"Everything is everything," I thought. "And in this world, anyone is anyone."

Many mental pot-holes today. Riding this wobbly wheel leaves an uneasy feeling; like the wheel on which I now ride is slowly falling apart underneath me. Spokes, rim and tire. The whole fucking wheel. It's probably not safe. But I gotta hold on, and keep moving.


The town is packed to the gills with strange faces...I hate San Diego. A new start, something drastic; a cataclysmic geological event is in the works to get myself out of this place...

Nothing new. Haven't biked in a few days. Weather's been odd...and It's gonna be a real long time before Tasty is back up to speed. It sucks, but hoping this weekend will prove different.

A measly evening tonight...at least the mist was nice, feeling it mix and mingle with the sweat of my brow and fogging my vision...as well as rusting up the frame a bit. But as this old bike ages, like wine it only gets better with age.

Maybe it's time to buy new batteries for my headlight...seems a bit dim.

Here is what he felt:

A different kind of Cadence. Tonight a new pedal feel. High gear to low gear, shifting left and right uphill and downhill. More resistance than usual, but clearly enough. (whew!) The feeling of resistance against the pavement when transferred from feet to legs was intoxicating. Like solving a math problem; perfect cadence is plug-in and go, precise and rhythmic. You know when you have it right.

And now the evening divulges at Lestats, the local coffee house, except…there is no power. Total blackout. A return to the dark ages. Candlelight. An hour of romance behind the darkened screen of a silicon computer. No action. Just the sweet jazz and faces concentrated, fascinated by the tiny, eternal flames from lamps emitted by tea lights on the tables. Eerie, beautiful silence. Not unlike the silence of slipping through dark city streets on the heels of speed, that new cadence.

Okay. So. Here's the situation. I'm gonna need a new rear wheel and a new rear derailuer. We're looking at about $140 bucks to get Tasty back up to performance. Until next weekend, it looks like I'm riding a fixie...which I don't really like, but at least I can ride, a little.

1910 Pierce with a chainless drive system! The 'Kelly' handlebars swing around from a 'Cruise mode' to a 'Sport mode' for faster riding. It also features a hydraulic rear suspension. This bike was top of the line in 1910, a nice alternative for a citizen before cars took the mainstream. A true beauty, they don't make bikes like this anymore!

So I got my new front wheel today, thought, "Oh yeah, time for a great ride today!...." About halfway to dowtown, my brake cable snaps AND my pedal crank is loosened to the point of falling off. I take the cycle to the shop AGAIN, get that fixed, start riding home, and half-way home a spoke on my rear wheel snaps......

Today was definitely a one of those 'bad days' cycling...(no shit).

This is the price of having a vintage bike.

Man today is so nice...waiting till Monday now for the repairs to finish. Now it's just of matter of griding my teeth until I get a cycling fix.

San Diego's civil engineering isn't bicyclist friendly. The city's bicycle crowd is spotty...and with events such as Critical Mass...you either love it or hate it.

For starts, nothing beats the thrill of bicycling through downtown SD at night with a bunch of comrades. The group has an awesome message of but for the most part has turned into a big nuisance...

There are lots of BUI's going on, and there have been many incidents of bicyclists getting hurt, both from cars and each other.

I avoid CM like the plague. It's just not fun anymore and hasn't been for a while.

I enjoy going out on a single-run, maybe in the middle of the week really, really late at night. I've been looking for others to go ride with, but motivation and willingness to go the distance isn't some people's strong suits; strange, given a lot of bicyclists I know. I guess there really are 'recreational' bicyclists you see on the boardwalks at the beach and serious bicyclists who ride until where or who knows when.

I'd really like to meet a serious bicyclist with a vagina. I get nods for my having a vintage bike all the time, but it never seems to get me laid.

Bicycling, as life is; is time and space constantly in motion. You pass a stranger, another bicyclist, wave, nod, and that's all the time you get. Everyone is going somewhere, and then they disappear.

I've been breaking my old routes, exploring and taking new ones. Some nights the rides are beautiful, and others I wish I'd just stayed home.

A while back, I did encounter a bunch of riders playing Cycle Polo, I cruised over, joined the game and left happy.

I guess I just need someone who can keep up with me for those long hauls. If I meet a girl who can do that, than everything may be alright.

I have no bearings...

...when it comes to where I'm going/riding. I hop on and just GO...and that's what I love about riding a bicycle - The absolute freedom to go anywhere, unhindered by a tank of gas, or the burden of pollution.

This week however, faulty wheel bearings are proving to be a pain. Tasty is out of commission once again this weekend as I overhaul the front hub. I think she needs new bearings or she needs some lube...har har.

The problem could be more serious, it's possible the cones are fucked and pitted, in which case it may be difficult to track down cones for Araya rims from the mid-80's. But I'm no expert. Off to the bike shop!

Music is Essential

...although it's illegal to have headphones on if you're riding a bicycle; I have to forgo the law sometimes for the perfect mood when I go out for a ride. Here is my playlist from my iPod this past weekend. Enjoy.

Artist/Song


Autechre - Kalpo Intro
Gary Numan - Me! I Disconnect From You
Roni Size - Watching Windows (Ed Rush & Optical Remix)
On a Friday - Give It Up
Clint Mansell - TT r^2
Massive Attack - Black Milk
Infinite Number of Sounds - Exorcise w/o Air
Beck - Motorcade
Massive Attack - Group Four
Can - I'm So Green
Massive Attack - Heat Miser
Moby - Life's So Sweet
DJ Shadow - What Does Your Soul Look Like? (Pt. 1)
Fluke - O.K.
Massive Attack - Blue Lines
Sasha - Wavy Gravy
Stereolab - Interlock
Lo Fidelity All Stars - Battleflag
Bjork - Human Behaviour
Talking Heads - Sax and Violins
Radiohead - Talk Show Host
Tristeza - Utopian Bridge
Massive Attack - Risingson
New Order - Age of Consent
Radiohead - Climbing Up The Walls (Zero 7 Remix)
Gary Numan - Conversation
Taras van de Voorde - Lairze

New City

In the evening I have a compelling urge to just get outside. It's like an invisible force pulls me from the dormitory of my mind. I end up in the darkened city streets of some trip-hop induced fantasy that is both surreal and real at the same time. I get caught in the thin tailored strands of my thoughts while The Boulevard glows and hovers vividly in the late hours or urban decay.

The electric hum of transformers is like a transmission from another world in the vacant hours of the night; the hour when it's so dark out that only the cats become your companions. Everything is illuminated as I ride my bike through the shady parts of downtown; rustic-hidden passages and fog on the waterfront gather like pot smoke in the attic of memory.

A tower looms overhead like a majestic equestrian steed while I ride across a grand bridge into those colonial dreams unknown; traffic roars beneath, into a valley of construction, skyscrapers and sirens. It is all madness beyond compare. I’m stuck in the exposition of Horton’s New City, a city that doesn’t know what it wants to be; no true identity. Hazard’s ghost wanders here and not at his Plaza; like Charles Foster Kane in Xanadu; this place is a tomb capsule for him and so many others.

Some nights, my favorite things to do are just wandering from place to place, going to cafes, interacting with people, but mostly observing. I might dip into a club every so often to see all the creatures in motion, maybe dance a bit; receive a kiss from a municipal beauty. I trade in conversation with night-crawlers in pilgrimage of momentary ecstasy. When I go for a ride and descend from those Abnormal Heights, I feel good.

Tasty

People always wonder if I’m on something…

High, tweaking out, mentally disturbed,

…Or just pretty crazy.

What am I on?

I’m on an eighty-two twelve speed

Forty-One-Thirty tempered steel Schwinn.

Made in the USA

A pure racing machine,

Bontranger Pro Performance tires

With Araya rims balanced to perfection,

Made in Japan…

She is blue,

As blue as a California-summer sky,

Aged and oxidized in some parts,

Yet her figure is still as sexy as ever.

Little is required to get her in forward motion,

When she gets going,

She’s the one on top.

The pedals,

Pulling away,

Try desperatly to rejoin the back end of the rear-dérailleur’s mid-gear,

Which starts out at a very fast tempo,

That has stretched the shifter cables long and thin.

Her speed is relentless once I get her going…

When I first bought the bike,

A sticker which read;

‘Tasty’ in calligraphy,

Sprawled out over the seat cover…

While I took the sticker off…

The name stuck,

And after we went for a first ride,

I understand now why she earned the name,

Tasty.