what was that? is that all there is? who is this? this is it.

at interbike i saw a lot of this 1 x 12 shit. i saw some people i was really hoping to see. i saw some people i didn't expect to see. i saw a lot of electric fat bike bullshit. i saw some inspiring electric bike shit that could put some versatility back into my cargo bike. i saw some Cross Vegas velcro grass amazing UCI big time Euro racing machines from the VIP free beer viewing sections thanks to Sally and his substantial bike industry rolodex. 

i saw the PK RIPPER turn 40 with some sags and bulges in new places

i saw just a tiny bit of this

if you were there you would've seen this

i got really tired of it all and wanted to step out for some "fresh" air and all i saw was this. you can't get there from here. it's just across the street. but the street is an 8-lane freeway. please return to your casino and spend more money. 

Sally said "you're doing it wrong" and showed me the climate controlled consumer walkway between monumental casino hotels including the fake as fuck Irish pub that turned out to be more authentic feeling than any of the casino bars. then 1.5 days later kitty-corner from the pub I saw Pete Rose at a card table ready to sign autographs but nobody was there. nobody cared.

i'm holding back on my personal opinionated commentary on Las Vegas the city of unmet expectations false hope crushed dreams the overconsumption capitol of the world the ash tray of the US fake hair fake nails fake tan fake tits ask me how i really feel but after 2.25 days there i had my guard up as if everyone everywhere was trying to sell me something or get one over on me or overcharge me for a shitty cup of drip coffee because they were.  and all this paranoid skepticism this counterfeit authenticity this series of empty promises began to carry over into "the show" as vendors and pickle juice re-inventors asked if i owned a bike shop or if i wanted a free bike porn t shirt or if i wanted to buy a bunch of lanolin based bike lube as if a small independent bike shop that barely squeaks by using industrial sized wholesale buckets of tri-flo could switch to a lambs-wool lanolin lube from New Zealand and put an environmental spin on it completely flushing any chance of profit. 

along the way the mission changed from a sorta work-related trip to an effort to collect as many bike like key chain bottle openers and stickers and clip-on do-dads as i could for my kids with the added physical challenge of existing in the desert on only beer and free sample energy gummies with a few sips of an electrolyte replacement that probably reminds you of Craig Etheridge. 

3 Comments

And how many 8 speed barcons were foisted on you? A whole lotta none, I bet since that shit don't sell. As a friend of mine so succinctly put it: Change isn't necessarily progress.

copy that. and i don't want to be all paranoid debbie downer. there were some cool things there like the OURY grip booth. as old school as it gets no bullshit just a bunch of grips hanging on a no-nonsense rack like you'd see in any mom & pop hardware store staffed by perhaps mom & pop Oury themselves. these are our grips you can take 'em or leave 'em and we're not going to say a word.

Agreed,there are some stalwarts of the bike world that just keep going and going and you never have a problem with them.......but planned obsolescence "just because we can" is a bitch.

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