T-minus 10

well, here's my long slow goodbye.  as of the time you are reading this i have less than ten days left in Nashvegas... assuming yer reading it the day it's shot through Al Gore's tube all over the internet like the after party of Lisa Sparks next record breaking moment.

so...  what's next?

well...  dunno actually.  the current plan is to load up the truck with bikes and beer and camping stuffs and what nots and this and thats and roll outta here toward the Specific ocean.

here's the route:

fuck yeah.

the drink.ride. tour could be coming to your city.  there's a couple days i need to be certain places, but outside of that, i'm open to most anything.  in fact, if you live in or on the way to Austin Tex-Ass, Tuscon Arizona, or West Oakland Cali-forn-i-a, you'll be on the first leg of the trip.  there's one deadline of rolling into the city on the bay the second week of april, cuz i have to be an adult and work toward an income so i can afford the biggin's, but that doesn't mean i'll start working immediately... but i might.

so unless something in San Fran ties me down, the slog to the east coast will commence the following week.  and next stop on the tour is Minneapolis Minnesota for the Almanzo 100.  that will give the drink.ride. crew a little rest and relaxation before heading south to permanently disfigure and or destroy Decorah Iowa, and then it's on to Emporia Kansas for the Dirty Kanza.

and that's kinda where it all falls apart.

well, sort of.  haven't quite got to planning that part yet.  the one thing i do know is, you've only got one shot at this, and it will not be wasted.  but no matter what, there is only one rule.

no problem.

real bicycle advocavy

Ride for Reading.

i have been so lucky to be a part of this organization.  delivering books to children who actually want them, by bicycle, with local businesses helping out.  this is what a cycling community is.

it is a force.  a collective of people that know giving back is the greatest reward there is.

but you know the one thing that i never see people understand?  when a child has a pleasant, respectful and understanding experience with an unknown cyclist, one that is not only of caring and the joy of helping others, but of learning and bettering oneself.  and you know what happens?  that kid has something positive to believe about those people riding their bicycles in the street.

these people give a fuck about the kids, their well being, and hope that the small, almost insignificant time they spend together picking out a book, or talking about it, or just walking away and watching the children basking in the love and care of the whole event, they hope to give that child a positive and educational experience that lasts a lifetime.

and some of them do.


kids speak the truth.  when a parent is driving the child, and they come upon a cyclist, the kid will have a connection with them, simply because a local bike shop owner closed their business to attend, a local state worker called in sick, and a local professional took a half day off to deliver some books to a school on a bicycle.

this changes the biggest problem cyclists face today, us versus them.

it creates empathy ...and there is no better advocacy.






so now that yer brain is all twisted into a ball of "whatthefuck?", get yer loin cloth on and join us tomorrow for the Fuck You Everybody.

because it works

ride local?

buy local.

simple as that.

Wal-Mart does not give a fuck about you riding your bike to shop their stores, even if you got it from them.

nope.  i promise.  if this person is common enough that a whole website could be devoted to exploitation... for years...  they just do not care for you to ride your bicycle to the store.  you don't spend enough money.  you won't.  ever.  and this is target, kroger, whole foods, all of 'em.  you don't take a buggy full home in the panniers you got a good will that are strapped to some rickety old rack atop your 1984 Schwinn.  nope.  and they don't want to sell you just a couple things.  proof?  self check out.  they don't even want to spend the money on a 15 items or less lane.

local cares.  even if they don't know it.  when you ride you bicycle to a local business, it shows them you live in the neighborhood of their business.  other customers that live within a mile or so will see you, and maybe on some sunny saturday afternoon, they put on pastel sweaters, Ray Bans, and pedal those old beach cruisers down for lunch.  hey, your community is becoming bike friendly.

Holy.  Shit.

you know what?  your house is started to work it's way around, and not be upside down.

really?

yup.

did you ever think for a second that the more people out on your street, walking around, kids playing, riding bicycles...  you know, more eyes on your shit, and your neighbor's shit, and across the street's shit... the less crime will occur?  uh, duh.

the less crime, the more desirable the neighborhood is to live.  the increase in people moving in, gentrification mind you (we all know this is how it works), brings in a higher class.  then restaurants.  retail.  tax dollars rollin' in.  property values rise.

who wouldn't want a piece of that?

revolution, community style.

bitch.

let's jus sing it together

well, it looks like i'll be waking up in nashville for just a couple more weeks, and then i'm off to roll around the countryside aimlessly searching for the next place root up, tear down, and pay taxes for an undetermined amount of time.

and that's more than enough time to tear this mother down.

so for once i didn't spend the weekend drinking, riding, and making others upset.  so if you are looking for the usual nightmare and vicarious worry for those that tow the line with me, sorry, i cleaned the kitchen instead.

i do a lot of thinking while scrubbing on my hands and knees in my french maid's outfit, and i thought about starting a kickstarter to buy an old school bus to pile as many people and bikes in a possible in order to build an army of drink.ride. minions, but originality is much more important than profit or personal financial gain, and it's already been done... so why rip off another person's ideas?  hauling bikes in a school bus just to unload them and ride around is stupid anyway, and definitely not green.  i do care about imposing my wants on other's environments... not really.

so where did i decide to waste MY money...

that's right.  my own branded sockx.  the slogan was stolen from Shep, but i'll be buying him out with the help of whiskey and answering questions with questions.  i searched long and hard to find a sock company that could produce a product up to my standards, in quality, quantity, uses of child labor, made in amurika, and is willing to put "fuck" on their product.  ...and best of all, they won't be putting their own logo on it cuz of the slogan.  i love making people uncomfortable about the decision to work with me but somehow still do, that shows trust.  funny enough, the deal was penned in Denver after eating way to much food, drinking way to much booze, and a yellow-snow ball fight.

once they arrive, you'll be able to buy 'em from me if you can find me.  but i did partner up with a local shop in Nashville that will have a small stock of 'em for $15 a pair.  but they don't have them either so you will have to wait impatiently.

it doesn't look like we'll be able to don them in time for the "Fuck you Everybody Invitational Bicycle Ride and Back Shaving Convention" happening this saturday, but the winners get a free pair at some point, so if you think you got what it takes, you can save $15.

so while you try to convince yourself to wrap how you really feel about the rest of the world around your ankles, which is much like the first time you let your partner tie you up and touch yer butt hole, set back, relax, and enjoy some rock and roll.

monkey bear

remember just a little while ago i was talking about the fact we are still animals?  yup, National Geogariffic calls it the warrior gene.  i call it we've only had power for a couple hundred years, and technology and fear has really triggered a response much like a monkey behind the wheel of a semi doing 75mph.

dude knows shit's about to get real, and something has to be done, but with no concept of motion beyond what he can do on opposable thumbed feets and hands, never mind the beeps and buzzes and blinkings all screaming in his face, and the single best thing there is to hold onto is the steering wheel.  that little monkey is loosing his shit, violently.  and monkeys don't fit in seat belts.  they don't even know what they are.

so for your enjoyment, ifin you like, and also because of Glamour Shot cover, here it is in it's full on love and effection.  and yes, there's a hug at the end - you can just start around 43.00 - embed sucks sometimes, so here's a link.



yup.  Rollins.  you can have your own TV Party tonight.  you should invite Glenn and talk about cats.

it's like Dr. Phil featuring your cool high school science teacher.  you know, the one that smoked weed.  we all had one.  the best scientists in the world are teaching in every school in the country, but they smoke weed.  ...and weed takes the math out of stars.

let's move on..

ever see this shit?

 

i wonder how much warrior gene this dude has.  bet it had something to do with his upbringing.

what i can't figure out, what happened that you were put into a position that you have to shave a bear.  who would shave a bear?

like, who's got the balls to snap those sheers and plunge into a bear's belly.  you know, right in the middle of that all four thrashing claws part, with bone shattering teeth on one side, and his balls on the other... but closer to his balls.  and that's where yer gunna take a big ass electric motor driving two stainless steel centipedes at racing speed and just stick in on in.

and after that, you gatta shave his ass.

hey Rollins, wanna make a few bucks?

anyone can polish a turd

oh shit!  i'm back... kinda.  my kidneys still hurt and i can't quite figure out how i spent so much money when i was blacked out half the time.  either way, four days in Denver surrounded by a bunch of gawkers with a pen-ash for the extreme was about enough for me, and after the bumpy flight back, it's nice to be back on a familiar throne.

so i went to the North American Handmade Bicycle Show and saw all the same shit you did online.  there is nothing i can add simply because i am not a: a real photographer, and b: i am not a real writer.  bare in mind, i can't weld more than plumbing, but i am rather good at mitering, so there's that.

the one thing i am really good at is calling out bullshit.  so that's what i'm gunna do.

case in point, this here weld.

 Kent Erikson is a magician.

this is what a textbook weld looks like.  unfortunately most of the bikes shown at the handmade bicycle show were doused in paint, powder coating, or rocks.

yup, rocks.  now, just to say it again, i am by no means a frame builder and if i ever was to show up at this shindig with a creation of my own, i would fully anticipate and welcome the lashing bashing slashing and dashing of my ass right out the door tar and feathered to be cast away to a remote island never to be seen again.  because that's the skill i currently have.  i bet my miters would be ok though, but they would not be good enough fo sho.

i will tell you this, i painted professionally for a few years, and you can hide a whole lot of shitty work under the right layers of mud and paint.  yes, when painting you need a good sub straight in order to make it easier to coat, and the thinner the paint, the more it shows... and the mark of a good painter is to enhance the builders work, not cover up their shit.  case in point...

mind you, the paint and powder that glared into my eyes was out of this world, and having been a painter it was wonderful having conversations with some of the best in the biz.  but the thing that astounded me was how few unpainted and unfinished frames were shown. 

bicycle frames, much like the skeleton of a moving object, is the most important part of the structure.  it is what sets the tone for what the bicycle is supposed to be.  if i was there to purchase a hand built frame, fully knowing it could be months, or years even before the tubes are selected, i'd kinda like to know what i'm getting.

and now this is where my arrogant diatribe makes sense.

it seems the vast majority of the people there had no idea what they were looking at.  they had no idea about the craftsmanship, years of trials, the thousands of welds, miters, files, and blood sweat and painstaking anger that went into so many of these creations, never mind the failures.

i shook hands with bent and charred fingers missing nails with a grip that only someone that has toiled for decades could obtain.  and over and over again, the raccoons with their little lemmings in tow couldn't stop spouting about colors and parts and a bunch of bullshit that has nothing to do with the experience of owning a true custom bicycle, and nowhere close to what it takes to get to the point that you even have the balls to get a booth and subject yourself to a bunch of judgmental assholes that couldn't even light a torch, let alone ride a fucking bicycle worth a damn.

the vast majority of the people i witnessed staring starry eyed into their own reflections at the love and dedication built into these gifts, had no idea what they are witnessing.  i got the feeling so many people were there to come home with something to brag about, as if coming home with a t-shirt and a pint glass lifted them to a higher status because they simply bought a ticket to a show.

i worry that the true respect for craftsmanship is following the rotary phone right down the path of good riddance, and that par work polished to a keen shine will become the mainstream understanding of what it takes to be an artisan.  just open up any bicycle magazine next month and look at what is inside.  it will be nothing but internet fodder and lip service, with no mention of true craftsmanship, art, or legacy.

FROM STEEL: The Making of a Soulcraft from michael evans on Vimeo.

so take heed you little raccoons and lemmings; next time i find myself in the middle of your herd, i'm gunna chuck a fist full of nickles on the floor just to enjoy the ensuing cacophony of shutters smacking in a frantic spray and pray with hopes of obtaining the lifetime of experience and education needed to stamp a coin with nothing more than a single tour of the mint, a camera, and an internet connection.

me eat rocks

we are simply a fart away from being primates.  we have harnessed electricity to be in most every household in just the last hundred years.  telephone?  computers?  internet?  shit, we have only begun to touch the surface, let alone even sharp enough to scratch it.  the internet has only been rolling strong for twenty years.  just in the last four or five have we seen the huge technological leaps of utilizing a yelp page to realize or criticize.  keep your pants on kids, we've a very long way to go.

our evolution has been slowly moving, cuz evolution is slow as a snail on a frozen lake waiting for it to stop snowing.  seriously, like plate techtonics slow.  we are still killing each other because we believe in different gods.  so arrogant to our neanderthal tendencies, we're just a breath away from being a pig in lipstick.

we're still fighting over shiny shit, stupid cars, debt, credit, borrow, worry, payment, loan, so caught in the cycle it can only be drscribed as a dozen raccoons posturing and fighting over ten deblumes. now the crazies are getting so angry they are going out and just shooting up places and people for who knows what.  every body is freaking out.

yeah, if you watched that, we have obviously only just begun.

i saw this on a ride this week.  this is security.  can't even handle a segway, gatta have a front wheel.  this is supposed to be intimidating, and it is to most people.  we look like a bunch of clowns.  seriously.  and people wonder while aliens won't visit.  uh, maybe cuz in every alien movie ever, we kill them.  or at least try to.

Barnum and Bailey people, all of it.

so i encourage you to take a moment to sit back, breathe, and take a look around.  tear off the blinders, buck your lemming tendencies, and listen to this sermon.


and in keeping with the circus theme and all the things you lemmings line up to oogle in a frenzy of unconditional to the actual art, i'll be headed to the North American Handmade Bicycle Show in Denver this here shortly.  you can follow along with my dumb ass on instagram in the comfort of you own bed and flannel jammies.  or follow along with any other of the bazillion bicycle dildos that will be be joining me to all but inundate your electronic live feeding tube for your rapid digestion.

i'll see you here next wednesday for a preview of what the big box guys will be copying in the next few years, as well as making fun of people who think brazing a bunch of shiny bits onto frames is makes you an artisan.