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

Happy Twenty Oh Eight!

girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes...

It is what it is

New Years Eve is an old Native American Term that translates directly as “Amateur Night” good luck with that.

Collecting hunting orange hats since 1997...

I like orange hats. I like orange...I like it a lot

Free Beer Friday at WA Legal

circa 1998 (above) Goldsmith photo and circa 2006 (below) 

PS What if on Messenger Appreciation Day, your boss tells you to take the day off and think about how much you want to keep your job? Just a half step away from firing you on the spot.

Narcissism, self absorption, self expression, late bloomers and boyish men in the messenger world


Of course this includes women, remember I am from No Man’s Land.  But the vast majority of messengers are men and most female messengers are relatively mature and do not linger in the industry for years and years drifting on waves of inertia.

You may think I’m full of shit, and I’d like to hear about it. But I’m the Erik Zabel of Seattle messengers, I’m the Junior Seau. I’m a late bloomer. I started in this job late, when I was older than most of you are now and that was 10 years ago. But most days I can pass for being 10 years younger than I am and I could be a Peter Pan Syndrome Poster Child.

If you think this is something I haven’t given much thought to, you’re wrong. I’ve been thinking about getting a job for years. Long before I got this job. Back when I graduated from one of the finest liberal arts colleges in the country, thinking my degree in and of itself, meant something to people, that people would offer me gainful employment doing things I love just because I graduated. 

Next Semester, at the College of Urban Cycle Messengers,  I will be leading a graduate level seminar centered on the concept of Peter Pan Syndrome.  Discussions will take place at various locations in downtown Seattle on Thursday nights, because Thursday has been the new Friday for a while now. Participation is open to any and all that wish to participate. But we expect some consistency and at least a hint of commitment. You will be expected to participate in discussions by sharing your experiences and  building on the topic of the day. Reading outside of class will be expected beyond the Nashbar catalog or VeloNews, and you will be required to write one well developed research paper and give one presentation to the group. Beer is not included in the tuition and class fees, because there are no class fees or tuition. Buy your own beer.
 

It’s that lame-duck stretch on the calendar between Christmas and New Years. For High Rollers like Cory it’s just another 9 day weekend filled with travel to warmer weather. For attorneys like Bob Anderton it’s a time to travel the world, turn on the voice mail and set the email to auto-reply. For low level support staff in large law firms it’s a time to update MySpace pages and cash in gift cards downtown. For Podunk legal messengers like me it’s a no-man’s land work week. Long stretches of boredom punctuated by brief periods of annoyance. Not much work, a drip, a trickle, just a slow leak, and slow leaks are annoying. Add to it some winter weather, 32 degrees and rain, and it felt like a long week. The downtime did allow for some reading,. I have never read the local papers as much as I did this week…movie times, horoscopes, sports.

Just so we’re clear on this, I am from No Man’s Land. I was raised by a pack of women in the foothills north of Spokane. I’ve got nothing against women. I really like women. And I can use the term No Man’s Land with confidence in a variety of contexts. I know what it is, I know what ‘taint.

Perineum

Mother, sister, grandmother in the absence of father, brother, grandfather

Or December 26 - 30.

Transfer. Shift. Jump. Look to context, search for meaning.

Today I caught up on some Steinbeck, and came upon one of the greatest paragraphs, ever. No doubt an important string of words I’ll refer back to in my never ending quest for sincerity, honesty, integrity, truth and the antithesis of half-ass bullshit.

It is what it is

It is

Be

What if every human's primary focus became the way in which she greeted the dawn, the moment, her every breath,,.and only then did she turn to face humanity's thorniest problems?

---David James Duncan

Thanks to Cat for the heads-up on the DJD article in the December issue of Conscious Choice magazine, excerpted from Duncan's section in a new anthology titled The Future of Nature

Good Morning.

good moaning to you.

Utility cycling...

Here’s to Christmas. Here’s to the holidays. Here’s to unrealistic expectations and self-inflicted pressure to achieve a level of festivity that doesn’t exist. That Brady Bunch Leave it to Beaver Walton’s Mountain Cosby Show It’s a Wonderful Life Christmas Story Bing Crosby Christmas ideal mixed with false childhood memories of incredible family Christmases.

Well, like Ice T / Body Count said, “Shit Aint Like That, it’s real fucked up…”

You’re putting all this pressure on yourself, just like you did last year, and the year before. Only to go back to work after the holidays with a big fat EMPTY feeling. You set yourself up. But hey there’s still time, look at what you’re looking for and perhaps you can make a few adjustments.

Salt Lake City, Utah; Paradise, California; Portland, Oregon; Chicago, Illinois; Minneapolis, Minnesota; Boston, Massachusetts; Atlanta, Georgia; Cincinnati, Ohio; Grinnell, Iowa; Aberdeen, Washington; even right here in Seattle…It’s just another day on the calendar. Turn the page.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the smell of Christmas trees, Christmas stockings full of goodies, lights, warm drinks, well wrapped gifts, dancing sugar plums, jingle bells and all that shit. I’m just trying to be a bit more realistic in my old age.

This picture is not out of focus...I'm just drunk. Legally drunk in all 50 states.

Friday December 21, 2007 4:44pm

Bumper to bumper gridlock on 2nd Avenue from Belltown to the Square, brake lights as far as you could see.

Traffic gets like this once in while and that’s why there are still bike messengers. Flowing through traffic as if it didn’t exist, like sand through your fingers, like water from your rigatoni flowing through your colander. You cannot see him in this photo, but Cory is a few blocks down 2nd white-lining all the way to Georgetown. Moving 10 times the speed of all those cars.

If you were a vehicular cyclist you’d be fucked, your rigid riding style and outdated Forester philosophy would prevent you from white-lining, using a bike lane, a bike path or even hopping on the sidewalk here and there. I’d respect you for riding your bike but question your staunch style and dedication to an idea that makes no sense in dense urban traffic.

Like Eric Clapton said, let it blossom, let it flow.

Like Robert Hurst said, "flow"

Like Mihaly Czikszentmihalyi said, "FLOW"

Let it flow.

Background, foreground and midground. What's going on here? wait, listen Kocoa told me, if you hear the Stones, something important is going to happen. Pay attention.

That's 50, (not that Five Oh, not Garda, not Jonny Law and not 87) That's Craig on the phone, gettting some more work from Mr. KnR.

That's Craig's bike, a trusty single speed that seems to glide all over the greater Seattle area with the greatest of ease. Craig just returned from Kansas City, where he placed well in the National Single Speed Cyclocross Championships. Racing in 10 degree weather on frozen rock-hard ruts, rocks, snow and ice.

What's that guy doing on the sidewalk there?

what's in the basket?

City Center Lobby

12:43pm

a large scrap of silver ribbon
stowaway remnant from the gift wrap kiosk below
caught in the teeth of the UP escalator
each step lapping against it
like closely spaced waves
on a wind swept alpine lake
Until finally a holiday shopper
kicks it free and lays it to rest

hazy, foggy, groggy, blurry, tired, fuzzy, hairy, heavy, thick...

Saturday. yes. finally.

This past week was one of the longest ever in the history of work weeks.

As this calendar year winds down, 2008 is nearly in sight and I’d like to take a look back at 2007 and examine a few of the things I’ve left behind:

277 12oz paper coffee cups (short Americano, no room)

84 16oz paper coffee cups (tall drip, no room)

50 coffee cups (Foster Pepper free coffee)

97 small Styrofoam clam shells (spicy Teriyaki chicken with rice)

92 large Styrofoam clam shells (café Zum Zum daily lunch special)

92 soft drink cups (café Zum Zum daily lunch special)

43 Styrofoam large deli trays (Dan’s grocery, meatloaf sandwiches)

43 Styrofoam small deli trays (Dan’s: jo-jos, chicken sticks, pizza pockets etc)

34 paper plates (Asian Express buffet)

257 plastic zip-loc bags (snacks from home)

478 chewed pieces of gum (scattered on the streets of downtown Seattle)

479 gum wrappers (in the bottom of my messenger bag)

203 plastic six pack rings

203 black plastic bodega bags

17 broken spokes

16 punctured tubes

12 trashed tires

10 spent brake pads

6 frayed cables

4 worn out chains

3 busted wheels

2 shark-finned chainrings

And a partridge in a pear tree

I don’t own a car. I don’t drive cars very often, unless my friends or relatives are too tired or drunk to drive or we’re going on a road trip (in their car). I am a big fan of FlexCars. So it’s easy to say I’m doing my part…and taking it easy on the environment. Yeah whatever, I don’t ride a bike because I’m worried about the environment. I ride a bike for a lot of personal reasons and the low carbon dioxide emissions are a side effect. But take a look at that pile of trash I put out during the work day.

Happy Holidays.

Cory said "do you speaka my language?" check this video from down under

Craig said "I'm goin to Kansas City" Cross Nationals in Kansas City that is.

No joke, Craig is racing this weekend with the big guns.

Doric, Ionic, Corinthian...whatever it takes.

bring it

My shadow is always a step ahead of me and he knows what’s up. He’s the one holding the camera, he’s the one that seems to have things under control. He’s doesn’t have many questions but he seems to know the answers. He’s smooth. He’s steady. He doesn’t get rattled. He’s consistent. He’s a fixture and he exudes a quiet confidence that has a calming influence on others.

So I said, “my ears are cold, so cold, they’re hot” And my shadow said,

“if that’s your biggest problem, you’ve got nothing to worry about. It‘s clear and sunny and 35 degrees and you get paid to ride a bike around town. Relax.”

 There are times when I let the petty shit get to me. I get really really pissed about stupid little things…but  right now I would like to take a moment and look you in the eye, shake your hand and tell you  I appreciate you. The cycling community and more specifically the messenger community. The brotherhood ( and that includes all you women too). The family. The camaraderie. The close-knit group. This is what is so hard to find in other occupations. This is what messengers miss when they move on to other jobs. This is what means so much more to me than all the million dollar law suits I file, all the save-the-day rushes I deliver, all the work, all the clients, yeah all of that shit, 10 years worth of it, doesn’t make a pile that means anything next to the family and friends.

My personal tuning fork sends out waves of energy that fall in synch with other peoples’ forks. When I get into a scrap, a tiff, a scuffle, a tussle, a discussion with someone on the street, even something as small as a hand gesture or eye contact…I’m sending out some waves that found a match and enough amplification to continue on.  Sometimes a little thing on the street will piss me off and get my attention, then  it carries over to the sidewalk, the bike rack, the lobby, the elevator, the office even the receptionist and of course, the dispatcher.

For example

 a bus driver cuts me off and honks, as if I did something wrong…and I’m pissed. When I pull off at my next stop an office worker is sitting on the bike rack, smoking and won’t move so I can  lock up, I’m more pissed, finally I lock up then head for the lobby and that same office worker puts out her cigarette and starts walking really slowly in front of me talking on her cell phone taking up the whole escalator, then she gets on the same elevator as you and hits three floors by accident because she’s holding a latte and a cell phone. The dispatcher is calling me but I can’t call back on the elevator. Then finally I get to the 34th floor and call the dispatcher back, but then the receptionist tells me to turn my phone down and take it outside. It all adds up and seems to feed off itself. Each little thing not worth my energy but each little thing takes a little more out of me.


It’s like that TV commercial where someone does something nice for someone else and it sets of a chain reaction of good deeds. Yeah it’s kinda like that but I’m talking about the negative waves of energy.  At times it’s very difficult to do, but if I can pay attention to it, really pay attention to it, I can re-direct it or channel it or turn it around and pay attention to what truly is worth my energy.

The more I try to put it into words, the more I realize it cannot be done.

Lots of questions and no answers.

What it all comes down to is…Friends and Family.

All else is horseshit.

The petty details of everyday life and work don’t mean a thing compared to Friends and Family.

Our thoughts are with you Phil and Devlin and Kevin.

I got my hands on issue #1 of COG magazine

it's good stuff. well done.

Well done.

check it out, you'll see some pictures of people you know, people that ride bikes.

I like websites, but nothing beats hardcopy. A magazine. Something you can hold on to. Something you can let your friends borrow. Something you can smell.

I wanna hold it. I wanna touch it. I wanna dog-ear the pages. I wanna set my coffee cup on it.  

Daddy why is he talking into a zip-loc bag?

Oh, honey that’s a bike messenger…he’s talking on a cellphone.

What’s a bike messenger?

Well, it’s someone that spends a lot of time in the rain standing by and riding bikes delivering things...do you smell that? Well that’s what messengers smell like and when you're a little bit older maybe I'll be able to explain it to you.

Angie... when will those clouds all disappear?

from the Seattle Times: 

Today's showers will be minor in comparison to yesterday, when Seattle saw 3.77 inches of rainfall — a record for that date. The most rain Seattle has seen in a single day was Oct. 20, 2003, when 5.02 inches fell.

I was working that day too, 10-20-3, subbing at WA Legal. Newman quit SeaLeg that day and I applied for his job and got it. Comes around goes around. Cycles. Circles.

dark days

long nights

wet shoes

wool socks

white lights

red wine

December 

He who hassle messenger, where park bike, work security, has no bike rack.

She who throw most stones, live in jankiest glass house

Crack open 24oz roadmaster, get dispatched ‘teener.

New batteries… blinky light bright. Blinky light get stolen.

30 days, no rain. Rear fender break. Heavy rain.

Bike outfit match, cost much, look good. Ride like chuffer.

1999...smells like only yesterday. The WTO meeting in Seattle, the shit storm surrounding it...now known as N30.

I was there, I smelled it.

Invitation Songs is a great CD and currently on heavy rotation on the pilderwasser soundtrack. I took this photo today and added the bike for scale...as you can see, these guys are big, as big as this sign on the side of the record store, and on the verge of huge. No joke. Matador Records Huge.

The Cave Singers are playing at the Crocodile N30 Friday Night.

I wouldn’t want your job on a day like this…

No shit

I don't even want my job

I’m not going to lie to you, or play dumb, or play high & mighty, or sugar coat it, or be a martyr, or say at least I don’t work in a cubicle. No none of that.

Today sucked...

...let me count the ways.

I got nothin.

just like Rilke said I'm "a tree in winter without a single word-leaf"

I prefer the abstract concept of incoherence in the face of great feeling to beautiful, full sentences that convey little emotion. ---Daniel Day-Lewis, NY Times Magazine 11/11/7

word.

I got nothin but this photo of some trees. Taken while sitting on a bench in GasWorks park enjoying a couple tall boys of Milwakee's Best on a clear cold late November day in Seattle.  

When I finally get out of this job I plan to take a job as a tenured professor at The College of Urban Cycle Messengers. It will involve some presentations and lectures. However the majority of classroom teaching will be done by my graduate assistants. My time will mostly be spent in research, writing and doing what I want to do, because I want to be free to do what I want to do. This college exists only in my mind, but it's very real. Here’s a sample from the 2007 Fall Semester course catalog:

Zip Tie Welding

1001 Uses for a binder clip

Duct Tape Survival Skills

Clothing Repair with a Stapler

Fix a Flat in Four Minutes Flat

Restroom Evaluation Techniques

Finding Free Food Fiestas

Avoiding Happy Hour Scheduling Conflicts

Rubber Stamp Doctoring

Stockholm Syndrome
An in-depth examination of the Lane Powell mail room employees

Snap Judgments
Human Relations in the 21st Century as a product of Elevator Chit Chat

What’s the problem officer?
Law Enforcement. The System. The Man, getting hassled by.

Traffic Whisperer
Interpreting the Body Language of Automobiles. Traffic trends and flow.

Peter Pan Syndrome
Narcissism, self absorption, self expression, late bloomers and boyish men in the messenger world.

Beer, It’s What’s for Dinner
Self Destructive behavior among artists, musicians, poets and messengers

&&&

Congratulations to Cat for getting out of the messenger biz, “cutting the cord” as she said and going back to school. Going back to teaching school that is. Word.

Wishing you and yours the very best smoky cheese balls this holiday season. 

We all make mistakes, get caught off-guard, hit a rough patch, dive into a corner a bit too steep, carve a line that includes a metal grate, roll across a wet crosswalk stripe, or get hit with a wind-tunnel focused cross wind out of nowhere. The important thing is how you react. Are you going to correct, compensate, roll with it, twitch your hips, let it slide, go with it, feather the brake, pedal through it, keep your chain tension, counter steer, relax, go gumby, go rag doll and ride it out?

Or are you going to point fingers, shift the blame, over correct, over compensate, white knuckle, back pedal, choke, grab a handful of front brake, clip out, foot down and bail out?

###

If you like Georgia O'Keeffe, check out Seth

Actually I’m down to three beers but I do have two red Bridgestones. The RB-1 has been living in Iowa since RAGBRAI, collecting dust at Jimbo’s house, and looking forward to next year‘s ride. The RB-2 has been getting worked daily on the streets of Seattle.

At times, I’m not so sure about the truth but the rest is definitely up to you.

go your own way

drink responsibly from Brandon Lockwood

congratulations to Shu. He's taking off for a long open-ended bike tour of New Zealand.

When you look at the calendar here in Seattle, as November turns into December, we're in for another dark wet winter. But way down under in the Land of the Long White Cloud, spring is here and summer is on the way. I'm enviously wishing you a great trip.

and thankyou Shu, for the good word, and the feedback,  I do appreciate it. The illustration below, from kickstand #17 is reprinted here for you. Word.

Standing by for a long while on a rainy day it’s hard to hop back on the bike and bust out a RUSH. It’s as if the air has been seeping out of my tires…literally, figuratively, mentally, physically, spiritually, philosophically, psychologically, anthropologically, professionally, romantically, existentially, cinematically, fatalistically, metaphysically, phenomenologically, athletically, artistically and analogically seeping from the inner tubes of both tires.

One day I’m getting run all over town without even a 7 minute break to wrap my hands around a cup of coffee. The next day I’m melting into a chair in the lobby of Two Union, drooling on my shirt for nearly 2 hours. How about a happy medium, some middle ground, a little moderation.

Now that nighttime in Seattle seems to go from 3:00pm to 9:00am it’s important to consider visibility. If you think your little blinky light is going to save you, think again. Think about the average driver after dark, toss in some precipitation outside, condensation inside, reflections off the windshield as well as an iPod, cell phone, latte, spouse, kid, dog, holiday stress, marital problems, work issues and you, yeah you on the bike, you don’t even exist. On a bright summer afternoon you're invisible to cars, and now, especially this time of year, you’re not even there. If you ride assuming that your little light means anything to a driver, you’re riding towards trouble. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a big fan of neon clothing or multiple high-powered lighting systems. I am a big fan of not assuming anything about a car or driver, except the fact that they can't see you. Accept the fact that they can't see you.

Meet me at Starbucks

I'd like to take a moment to look back with fondness on Dave's bike...

It had almost everything you needed, but without a doubt nothing you didn't. A single speed freewheel with no brakes, no saddle. Dave could roll this thing through the core in smooth flowing lines and actually get his work done. It was poetry. Closer to skateboarding than traditional cycling, it was fun to watch.

Foster gets international exposure as one of the cutest messengers in the country...

I found an old dictionary and I looked up "badass" and there I found a picture of the All Blacks. Then I googled it and, again, I found a photo of the All Blacks. Bad Ass.

"There are people who have money and people who are rich." -Coco Chanel

do you copy that five-six?  56 

That's Jeff as seen in the NY Times last week. Thanks for the link Jenny. 

If A then B

if B then C

A therefore C

Bikes, beer, coffee, cupcakes, roasted pig, deviled eggs, silent auction, live music, bike race, bike polo...

...to send more bikes, like this one that Chris is modeling, to coffee growers in Rwanda.

Matty Face won the alleycat and free Stumptown coffee for a year.

And lots of money was raised for a good cause  

yeah I know now what I knew then

but I didn't know then what I know now

That was then this is now. 10 years went by and I didn’t notice until the fog lifted, the smoke cleared, the dust settled, the clouds passed and the sun came out. Ten years. TEN YEARS. Even as a relatively green messenger in 1997 my right shoulder was already lowered by the burden of a messenger bag. How ya like me now? Those are passport photos. I started to apply for a passport, three times in the past 12 years. Well the third time’s a charm. This time it’s for real. And it only took 10 days, no expediting necessary, to show up in my mailbox. The Seattle passport people kick ass. Now I can go to Canada to play miniature golf. Or go to Mexico and paint watercolor sketches in my journal while sitting on a stone wall that’s older than the great grandparents of the Portuguese sailors who claimed to discover America. Gimme a call in 2017 and I’ll update you with the next photo in the series.

My favorite work bike is in “the shop” (my kitchen work stand getting the once over from Brad) because both wheels are tweaked. The front wheel is AWOL, due to a front hub that sounds like a pocket full of change. The cones are as pitted and rough as the surface of the moon. A complete overhaul may not even save it. So I hung it on the wall to deal with later, much later and put on a old front wheel. The rear wheel popped a spoke, again. I’d like to think it’s from the massive torque I put out and transfer into the drive train. But I think it’s from the uneven spoke tension in the wheel that I bought at the bike swap in February and never really took the time to round true and tension properly. I just slapped a cassette on it and rode it to work. When I think back to February and how much maintenance and time I’ve put into this bike compared to how many hours I’ve ridden it to work. I realize how lucky I am. Not just lazy. I haven’t really done anything to the bike but lube the chain and put air in the tires. And I just hop on and ride it work every morning. But today I need to replace a drive-side spoke and put on a new tire and give that rear wheel one more chance.

What we have here is, Texan Dan last winter outside the Four Seasons with some chestnuts-roasting-on-an-open-fire ladies.

My favorite Toni Braxton video of her singing this song was pulled from YouTube. I linked to it last year at this time, but this year you’ll have to just hum along and visualize Toni in a red turtleneck making even a Christmas song hot.

The holiday season started before the kids got home from trick-or-treating. The media’s incessant stories about retail forecasts and projected holiday sales have started. The cute little white lights went up in the trees on 5th Avenue this week. The time changed. It’s dark at 4:30 now and getting darker. I’ve already heard groups rehearsing their caroling in office conference rooms on their lunch breaks for a caroling competition that’s 6 weeks away. Frank at Foster has his shopping-days-left countdown well underway. Poinsettias will soon take over office buildings and “holiday” trees will pop up soon. Sixth Avenue will be backed up from the Pacific Place mall back to Spring Street, first during lunch hour and evening time, then just all day long, necessitating the presence of traffic cops at several intersections. Sidewalks will fill with shoppers doing their part to make this six week stretch greater in terms of dollars spent than the other 46 weeks of the year combined. Retail, retail, retail. The roads and parking lots fill with drivers who normally would not venture “downtown” and their driving style shows it. UPS hires thousands of temp workers as does the US Postal service. I deliver dainty little legal documents all year until the holidays when the wine, cookies, chocolate, smoked salmon, cheese balls, hard liquor and festive gift baskets come out. Holiday cards hand-signed by everyone in the office, oh, I’m all warm inside. thank you.

It’s not even Veteran’s Day yet but I was just anxious to link to Toni Braxton.

poached this photo from Swobo

That's Owen taking care of business on his Folsom

taking care of business

...

"I think I'll get up early and run some errands before work"

"I'm gonna sleep in then go to work and run other people's errands all day"

If it was 1987 I’d tell you to pick up the yellow pages and let your fingers do the walking. Use your land-line to make a few phone calls and find some addresses before you venture out into the cold cruel world to connect the dots. You’d find all those things within a few pages of each other in the phone book. Remember when people had phone books?

That was then. This is now. It is what it is. What is it? What it is. It’s not as though you are venturing out on a Saturday morning full of potential to purchase a bike, a barstool and some beer. I’m just setting you up so you have those items in mind, so you can connect the dots.

Are you a zen roadmaster? Or is it just roadmaster zen?

All roads lead to teletubby hill.

You know you’re dehydrated when you take a leak and it comes out like margarine. I can’t believe it’s not butter. I stopped drinking water in 1997 and started riding the coffee-beer continuum. My thirst reflex is incredibly low. Where most people’s bodies are telling them to drink more water, they’re dehydrated, they’re brains are shrinking, my body has learned to ignore that. Or my mind has learned to ignore my body. It’s even easier to forget to drink water when it’s cold outside, you’re wearing two sweaters and your hands are freezing.

This brings me to a thought I had last night while sitting on a barstool. There’s a recurring injury among bike messengers that I’ll refer to as: The barstool hamstring cramp (BHC)

Several related maladies exist, however BHC is the most common, visible, relatively pleasant and socially acceptable so I’ll stick with it for now.

BHC exists at the intersection where three roads meet, the confluence where three rivers meet, that special place where three conditions occur. Physical exertion, dehydration and alcohol consumption.

Physical exertion: bike messengers ride bikes, some of them ride their bikes a lot, cover a lot of distance, spend a lot of time in the saddle. Some of them don’t. But all of them have solid legs. The quadriceps become over developed, even massive (The Tripletts of Belleville) creating an imbalance with the hamstrings. And messengers are not known for their stretching regimens.

Dehydration: even in a static state, even in cooler weather, even in drab office cubicles…the body needs water.

Alcohol consumption: diuretic shmiuretic. Beer is mostly water. Of course those 4 tall boys you had earlier in the day might be having an effect on you, might be affecting you. But let’s focus on the barstool.

After a long day of bike riding, and perhaps a couple beers along the way, some messengers like to unwind at a local watering hole. Belly up to the bar. Hop on a barstool. Order a pitcher of beer. This brings us to that intersection, that confluence, that special place we talked about earlier. Sitting on the stool, the knees bend to an acute angle that depends on the height of the stool and the length of the messenger’s legs and when all the factors are in place the hamstring muscle will seize up. Locked like a cannonball hanging from a string of tendon.

Here’s where experience comes into play. The old crusty vets just wince a bit, stand up and walk it off. The young fresh rookies flop off the stool, writhing in pain on the floor, they create quite a scene.

from the Emerald City to the Land of the Long White Cloud...

the Morton Salt Girl looks great in Mary Janes or Galoshes or just bare feet or argyle socks or flip-flops or hiking boots or knee-high lace up bad ass boots or smart wool socks or high heeled ruby slippers

Saturday, November 10
Alley Cat Ride & Party
Stumptown Coffee Roasters - 12th & Madison, Seattle
4:20 alley cat begins

6:30 bike polo
7:00 auction
9:00 rock n roll
Come celebrate and raise some dough for BTR.

pre-register on line and read more about it right here

The kids from PDX have listed potential checkpoints and feats of strength

Strong, light-weight, efficient. Able to handle tremendous loads, absorb great shock and distribute huge forces far beyond expectation. Newton meters, foot pounds. Torque.

Bicycle, strong like spider web.

A spider web is incredibly strong. Strong enough to catch little insects for days. For its intended purpose there is no better design.

Rolling down the road, just riding along, riding a bike the way it was designed to be ridden, a bike is an amazingly strong and efficient machine. But it doesn’t take much to fuck it up.

Bicycle, delicate like spider web.

A well-tensioned wheel is very strong radially, and strong enough laterally, and it’ll get you where you want to go, until someone steps on it, or you hit a man-hole sans the cover, or you throw the chain into the spokes grinding up Spring Street and sheer off a few with your monumental torque output (too bad your derailleur was poorly adjusted)

A bottom bracket spindle puts up with a lot of stress, a headset takes a beating, the dropouts take it in the teeth all day. The whole package is truly amazing and I appreciate it. However, I find it beneficial to remind myself how delicate a bike can be. Riding down the road on two contact patches the size of communion wafers, and sometimes on only one, anything can happen. Toss in some rain, road grime, oil, balsamic vinegar, beer and a few bad drivers and you’ve got a colorful chef salad.

I call it a healthy respect, even fear. A respect for other factors out there. The knowledge of the possibilities. The fear of what could happen. It’s in the back of mind most of the time. Advancing, retreating. Growing, shrinking. Reminding, overlooking. But it’s there.

Actually I think it’s there in most people at varying levels. It’s sometimes referred to as stupidity, ignorance, youth, balls, bravery, wisdom, skill, experience, caution, flow.

Maybe it's Sunday morning, so I'm thinking about communion wafers too much...I'll take two.

Is this heaven? No it's Iowa

Are we in Kansas? No Dorothy, not anymore

Is this the Cha-Cha? No it's Bimbos

Are you my Bucky?

Bimbo's Burritos Beers Bicycles Bucky's.

(thanks for the link Alistair)

This photo is a couple years old. But I like to bring it out this time of year. Where you used to see 800 5th peeking though between the library and 900 4th, is now a 22 story luxurious condo, 901 5th. Built on the tiny tiny footprint of the drive-through bank-o-California.

Urban Density.

 work in progress...

that was then...this is now 11-2-07

Steevo kicks ass...but what if the best part of the photo was the shadow of the P?

20 feet in the distance next to the shadow of my head.  Not the woman on her cell phone, not the P, not Steve, but the shadow of the P...

what if? 

Amelia Earhart

lots of work went into this. Even her bike was dressed up. And those goggles, those are the real deal.

Pedro

He know's it's all horseshit

Maori gangbanger

This was one of my favorite costumes today. Simple, elegant, instantly recognizable, classic. Once were warriors. None of that "what are you supposed to be?" and New Zealand has been on my mind a lot lately.

wing it

Running a red light…$100

No Helmet…$100

No Brakes…$100

Blocking an intersection …$120

Seattle Police having nothing better to do…priceless


Bigger fish to fry, yeah, once in a while, if a fatcat republican politician is in town, or there’s some code-red crisis. But sometimes they can’t resist the guy on the bike, especially if he’s dressed like Santa Claus or has a tri spoke front wheel or caught big air off the wheel chair ramp. Or the attractive woman on the bike, pulled over for no apparent reason, only to discover the cop just wants her phone number. They put in 9 hours. and how many donuts can you eat in 9 hours? After 15 years, donuts get old. So why not pass some time with a cyclist. ?

An un-named messenger recently got a ticket for running a red light with an additional fine for not having any brakes on his bike. This is the first no-brake ticket I’ve heard of in Seattle. Portland got a lot of press last year about fixed gear bikes sans brakes and heat from the po-lice. Once again, PDX is ahead of the curve. Perhaps the cops here are cracking down on messengers and non messengers more because of a recent well publicized bike fatality involving a kid on a fixed gear bike. Perhaps he had no brake. Perhaps he had no helmet. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

I like bread and butter

I like toast and jam

I like putting all my eggs in one basket, all of them.

I like Jimmy Dean sausage

I like cooking up some sausage with a few eggs out of that basket

I like arrows. I like arrows a lot

I like white arrows and yellow Ps painted on walls

I like crisp clear autumn days

I like that this crazy month of October in 2007 is almost over. really

I like steel bikes

I like Elvis burritos, top shelf tequila and friends of friends that pick up the tab

Would you buy 16 bags of overpriced designer cat kibble at the local boutique pet store, if they told you the 17th bag would be “free”? Would walk a mile to collect your free bag of kibble? If you saw a pack of urban coyotes roaming the streets of Capitol Hill on a Friday night would it make you smile and pause to appreciate nature? or would it make you run for shelter and call the authorities? Would you be crushed if your overpriced designer cat was eaten by an urban coyote?

What does that have to do with anything? What does anything have to do with that?

10-9?

It makes me nervous to carry around my passport unless I need it. But I have no problem going to the Russian Consulate or the Japanese Consulate and picking up a stack of other people's passports, loose, no envelope, and tossing them in my bag for a few hours until I can drop them at the travel agent.

you down with OPP?

gimme a P 

Single story retail, mixed use, light industrial, residential, all of it, a thing of the past. A rare treat to be savored and appreciated in the core, like a soda fountain or a real donut shop or an honest lawyer. I’m guessing that in the next few years this Corned Beef fixture will be torn down and built over with multi-story residential/commercial with street level retail.

###

 
I picked up a large envelope full of “discovery” today in the case Cookie Monster vs. Hamburgler et al. It was rather bulky and lumpy and I thought I had a bunch of cookie cutters, exhibits in the case perhaps. It didn’t occur to me that this little Podunk attorney wouldn’t be handling a copyright infringement case, trademarks or even a case in U.S. District court. It did occur to me that what the messenger slip states I delivered needs to match what I actually delivered. So when I got outside, I checked. It was a large Ziploc bag full of homemade cookies. From one Podunk attorney to another, going three zones up the hill on a one-hour.

What do you do with an 8" magenta upper case P?

What don't you do?

there's a whole page of photos building up, click on it.

it's all about the font.

Kevin got hit today...

I don't know all the details, I don't want to spread rumors, but he's busted up. 

Our thoughts are with you Kevin, and we'll visit you and help out too... 

On-- Off

Hot-- Cold

Up-- Down

Black-- White

Yes-- No

All-- None

In-- Out

Hey Mr. Black or White, try some of this gray-scale pudding?

Copy that, Mr. Toggle Switch…stand by, Mid town.

Hello Ms Bi-Polar, would you like some continuum cake?

I hear you Mr. Deep End, and can I offer you some moderation?

You don't need to flip that switch just yet. Air it out, water it down, warm it up, simmer, chill out, add some sunshine, take a break, time off, time out, mix it up, mix it in, stir it up, make it up, write it down.

pilderwasser sold 7 shirts in the last 48 hours.

All proceeds were converted to beer and burritos, directly. I'm not joking. Seriously. For real. No really.

Do you copy? Cottage Industry... 

What are you looking at? Are you sure?

An ice cube tray, a diving board, a bunch of Styrofoam packing material, a cheese grater? A large office building. Is that blue sky and 70 degrees in late October in Seattle? What?

Enjoying refreshments and good conversation with Jewell on the back patio of 1301. Tucked right up under the Rainier Tower at High Noon, noticing how the arc of the sun in the late October sky is so low it doesn’t even clear neighboring buildings and warm up the patio. The patio that in summer is perhaps the hottest spot in the core.

Architecture, art, texture, context, content, contest, structure, structural, structural engineers...

I'm not aware of too many things

I know what I know if you know what I mean 

What are you looking at?

Molly's cross bike, built up for racing, but she rode it to work yesterday because of some issues with her other bike.

But isn't that my old saddle Are those Justin's pink crank's? Was that Todd‘s frame? There's a lot of history built into this bike.

Some would say it's scrapped together. And I would respond to that with "show me the money, show me some sponsors, show me an established racer working full time in a profession that affords plenty of disposable income and I'll show you a top-shelf cross racing bike".

What I'm showing you today is a bike that Molly is doing quite well on in her first season racing cross.

...out came the sun

and dried up all the rain

and the Flite's ti rails

began to creak again

Dissimilar metals, road grime, rain, neglect, heavy rotation, ridden hard, put away wet.

Do you hear that creaking?  

There are special procedures to isolate the source of “the noise du jour”. To pin it down to the rails of your saddle, stop pedaling and shift your weight around on the saddle, waggle your ass, side to side, front to back.  You put your ass in, you put your ass out, you put your ass in and you shake it all about…This may be amusing to your co-workers, other cyclists and passing motorists, but it works. They might think you’re attempting to adjust your chamois, or scratch an unreachable itch or that you’re just a strange one. And maybe you are.

Heavy rain, wind, leaf clogged storm drains, wet socks, road grime, cold hands. 

Wool sweater, dry socks, red wine, melted cheese, 

Carve pumpkins, old movie, bite size Almond Joys.  

October. 

Accuracy vs. Precision.

 Repeatable but unreliable. Correct but sloppy. Accurate yet imprecise. Well done, consistent just a bit off-target. I appreciate your consistent attention to detail. But why the hell are you focusing on those details?

What does it all mean? Not much. In the long run, I’m talking the big, long run, the run to end all runs. It won’t mean shit. It won’t make a difference. It won’t get you a gold star. It won’t get you an express VIP pass. It won’t be remembered by anyone, not even you. So why does it seem like such a big deal right now? Right here and now?

Where are you putting your energy, your focus, your aim? What’s your target, your intention, your goal? What’s important? What’s horseshit? Why?

Don’t know the answer. Don’t think there is a “correct” answer. Enjoy asking the question.

Yup.

today is my Friday. 

Pay attention

When Ron Sutphin looks you in the eye and says, “nice bike”

When the dental hygienist pauses and says, “nice teeth”

When David James Duncan says, “well said”

When your dog turns to you and says, “word”

When something hits you in the gut, with feeling.

Pay attention.

At the end of the week you can look back on what you’ve accomplished. Judging not by your checking account balance, not by the credit limit on your visa card, not by the amount of vacation time you‘ve earned. Nope, no, none of those. But by the number of six pack rings you’ve gathered, the number of black plastic bags you’ve accumulated, the number of local bodegas mom ’n pop’s you’ve cased, priced, evaluated and recommended to friends. Show me something real. Give me something I can touch. Say it to my face. Say what you mean. Get to the point. Tell me the truth.

Word.

Chris Murray photo...see comments on Dan and "just enough beer" 

how the hell can a person go to work in the morning

come home in the evening, and have nothing to say...

are you with me here? sing it ...

make me a buckle

carved out of plastic

make me some bike shoes with plexiglass cleats

strippin down to my skivvies

just to get in the courthouse

strippin down to my skivvies

is just a hard way to go...

Recently, powers that be, have turned up the suck on the metal detectors in the courthouse. I’ve been taking off my shoes to get into federal court for years. While at King County I could stroll in with a pocket full of change, keys, spd cleats on my shoes, a big rodeo champ belt buckle and a hefty wrist watch. But not anymore, those days are over. Now I have to take off my shoes and even my boy scout belt if I want to get in without getting the hand wand hold-up.

I ain't done nothin since I woke up today 

whatever it takes

 This is the third or fourth year in a row that Atom has asked me about putting a front fender on my bike, aka “admitting defeat”.  I have full fenders on one bike and a rear fender on three bikes but I’m not quite ready to put a front fender on my favorite work bike. Not quite…

sometimes I sit and think. Sometimes I sit and drink.

Sometimes I just drink, but most of the time I think...too much.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

--One of my favorite snippets from Hamlet’s To Be or Not To Be soliloquy.
 

City Grind circa 1999 

Meet me at City Grind...

It was a spot where you'd often find messengers, a great place to meet a driver for a handoff in the trips, a half block from ABC. A place to sit and lounge outside and drink good coffee. A place that would run a tab for you.

But now the vortex has shifted. And when you tell a driver to meet you at the old City Grind, they don't know what you mean. CityGrind rolls so much smoother than the church across from 800 5th.

ask Matt Case  he'll tell you

"the Old City Grind"  10-12-7 

Never had a paper route when I was a kid...but I have one now.

 You call it a weed, I call it a cash crop.

You call it a toupee, I call it a hideous piece of shag rug glued to your head.

You call it a career, I call it a compromise.

You call it growing up, I call it selling out.

You call it responsibility, I call it cop out.

You call it vehicular cycling, I call it rigid.

You call it reckless, I call it flow.

You call it peter pan, I call it living the dream.

You call it carbon footprint, I call it whatever…

You call it a business lunch, I call it getting loaded.

You call it drinking in public, I call it step into my office.

You call it this, I call it that.

You cry wolf, I cry don’t take it out of context.

You got a problem? I’ll give you a problem.

Have you been drinking? Yes sir, I have...for 22 years.

here's to that. here, here, there, everywhere. Tuesday

10-9? Huh? What?

Tuesday is International Messenger Appreciation Day, 10-9 Day.

There will be pizza, pasta, salad, icecream and soda-pop at Seattle Legal. All you can eat. It's north of downtown, out of the core way up at WizyWig...but your boss knows about it, your boss appreciates you and your boss will give you a head start on your lunch break so you can get some food. So get some food. It's your day. and it's Justin's Birthday too. Tell all your friends, all your drivers, all your dispatchers, all your messengers.

Free Lunch.

Nothing says October 6 like Helga in a wool turtleneck sweater, her hair in braids, German beer in hand and college footbal on TV...all day long.

I like Helga I like Saturdays. I like college football and I like beer too.

Friday October 5, 2007 8:53am

Riding up Olive Way, trudging home to feed my cats. Tired and dehydrated my legs feel like rocks my mouth dry with stale coffee breath. Wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday with no consideration or motivation of changing, even my socks. The only reason I’m riding up the hill is because I love my cats, and they’re hungry. I could just be chilling downtown drinking some more coffee and wait for work.

Friday October 5, 2007 8:53pm

Riding up Olive Way, trudging home to feed my cats. Tired and dehydrated my legs are heavy my mouth dry with stale beer breath. Wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday, every single item of clothing, even the socks. This time I’m riding up the hill to feed my cats, but mostly I want to go to sleep. I could just be chilling downtown drinking beer for 5 more hours and wait for something to happen.  But I’m tired.

Mark your calendars. October 5 was the first day of the season where I got out of bed and picked up every layer of clothing from October 4 and put them all back on and went to work. Just call me angel in the morning, just touch my cheek before you leave…Don’t get me wrong, I often wear stuff more than once but I usually give things some time off or toss them into a rotation, a transitional state and mix it up a bit. But now the it seems the temperature and layering will allow for some overtime shifts and long haul trucking in the clothing department. And it all snuck up on me.

In the summer a two T-shirt day or just a single sweat-soaked shirt does not lend itself to repeat use or marathon wear as a messenger. Take a whiff of the shoulder strap on my bag  or my watch band on a hot day and it’ll all make sense.

The smell of freedom.

Roughing it, stripping down to the bare essentials, with plenty of time to think about what’s really important. What matters. What’s fluff. What’s complete bullshit.

Getting back to nature in the parking lot of a middle school in small town Iowa, it’s RAGBRAI, and I did pitch the tent on a patch of grass but it was mostly smooth asphalt and there were hot showers inside the school and plenty of  electrical outlets to charge your cellphone and the gentle hum and soft orange glow of the street lights. We were 20 yards from the road and before the sun came up there were hundreds of cyclists heading out for a day of riding to the next town, the next beer garden the next cherry pie stand, the next girl scout fundraiser. Their headlights blinking in the pre-dawn mist, sound bites of their conversations drifting into my tent. And I was thinking “what time is it, and why the hell are you jokers riding already?”

It’s now October, but I want to remind you once again that RAGBRAI is an experience, a spectacle that I wish everyone could see at least once.

You saw me? Yeah, I bet I saw you too, why didn't you say something. Now I gotta pay $10 to leave you a message and then see if you'll call back and my friends are making fun of me. 

remember this ad?

The NY Times would not run it, saying it was "in poor taste"...

the Reagan Years.

a little slap on the ass, she's taller than he is, she makes more money than he does, in that short skirt she wears the pants, all that and more was too much for the establishment

She's very kickstand, 20+ years later...

kinda here kinda now. kinda hot kinda Wow

Big, bigger, biggest. Dumb, dumber, dumbest. Fun, more fun, most fun. Bright, brighter, brightest. Heavy, heavier, heaviest. Once in a while it’s important to take it to the third degree, when you describe something.

Bullshit, fucking bullshit and finally horseshit

Photo courtesy of Folly Moster

What you see is what you get. (WYSIWYG) wizzywig. The real deal, the whole package, no bullshit, there it is. How ya like me now?

Nice day for a bike ride.

Ten years ago when someone said wizzywig, I'd say Oh yeah I know where that is, over by Tower Records, 711 6th North. As in “…Wong Doody has a ‘teener to WizzyWig and you’re the only one clear right now and I know you’re at 1800 Westlake North but it’s all you buckaroo.” And you thought you were getting paid well for that three zone ‘teener but you found out later it was all discounted big client zone one prices that paid you about as much as a two-hour. You crossed 5 zip codes to pick up the disk at 216 1st South and got it up to WizzyWig on time, because you were young and motivated by other things. Yes, yes you were.

WYSIWYG is base, base is at WizzyWig, “come to base” has a whole new meaning, it feels different, Tower Records is long gone and there’s a QFC there now.

After a while a messenger can just run on autopilot. Traveling the same habit trails all day, repeatedly going to the same clients repeatedly, over and over repeatedly repeating. Hot spots, big clients, rush rushes. The same line to 1111 3rd Avenue, taken 217,000 times. When you switch jobs, the new client list changes things up a bit, causing you to create some new habit trails and autopilot won’t work for a few days. Which is, A good thing.

I need you to bring that to Base.

Yes.  

It was without a doubt an amount less than or equal to a boat load, truck load, shit load, shit ton or grip. At the same time it could be said that the amount was greater than or equal to diddly squat, jack shit, a pittance, a smidgen, a titch or a capful. I’d say it was a mouthful.

The story goes they were teaching this guy to ride a bike. But I’d like to think they all shared a hefty bag of mushrooms and took turns riding the bike on a sunny afternoon in the park with Partridge Family songs playing in the distance on a transistor radio.

recycling. cycling. bicycling.

If Pavlov's dog had a Nextel, he wouldn't have to be strapped into this archaic saliva measuring contraption. He could roam free with his Sprint-Nextel equipped phone and a small saliva sensor in his lip and he could cover a lot of ground. Pavlov could chirp Bowser at various times around town and saliva readings would be measured and recorded via bluetooth back on Ivan's laptop, while he sat around and smoked cigars and oogled women at the piroshky shop.

Let me tell you, Bowser's a real gravy dog, and that Nextel chirp seems to illicit a stronger response than the famous bell ever did. However, Pavlov is a horrible dispatcher.

wait, stop, do you feel that?

No...that. yeah that...did you feel that?

That was the bus tunnel opening up again today after a two year closure.

I didn't feel a thing 

I'd tell all my friends but they'd never believe me

they'd think that I'd finally lost it completely

How long does it take for an attitude adjustment? Not as long as you think.

How long will it last? Not as long as you want it to.

I've got that back-to-school feeling  I'll be back in the high life again, soon.

“Where are you going?”

Nowhere

“what are you going to do?”

Nothing

I’m taking the week off, between jobs. It’s been over four years since I’ve had this much down time. Riding RAGBRAI is a great busman’s holiday, but this, this is a whole new world. Exile, sabbatical, hiatus, break, down time, retreat, removal, vacate, evacuate, exit, check-out, disappearance, leave-taking.

Take rest; A field that has rested gives a bountiful crop. --Ovid

A life of leisure and life of laziness are two things. --Ben Franklin

They taught me how to work, but they can’t teach me how to shirk correctly… --XTC

... 

What do you want to do?

Why do you want to do it?

A worm drive Skil saw kicks ass. Ripping, cutting, shredding. Sawdust flying in a cloud of power. The distinctive scream of the blade echoing through the neighborhood. I can appreciate and utilize its power and efficiency.

However there is something to be said for the beauty and elegant simplicity of a fine hand tool. Wood chips slowly curling from the blade. The substantial weight and feel of an ornate hand-decorated handle.

This year we’re going to get a real Christmas tree, and we’re not going to buy it at the mall parking lot, we’re going out in the woods to find one.

Does that mean?

You’re going to storm the wilderness in your SUV hop out on the edge of the road and leave the engine running, fire up the Husqvarna and pulverize that poor little tree, toss it in the back and drive home. All the while the kids never leave the rig, never stop watching their DVD, never stop text messaging their friends about the stupid “nature” trip you’re on, never even look up except to turn up the volume when the chainsaw goes off for 5 seconds. The kids are annoyed with the excursion and complain about having to go the bathroom.

Or does that mean?

You’re going park your Volvo wagon at the ranger station buy a tree permit and hike in five miles through knee-deep snow until you find the ideal tree. Stopping several times along the way to point out some things to the kids and have some hot chocolate. When you find the tree you want you pull a bow saw from your pack and let the kids take turns sawing and sawing and sawing until that tree comes down. With some twine you lash the tree to your Flexible Flyer and pull it back to the ranger station. The kids are exhausted and a little wet, but smiling and they fall soundly asleep shortly after getting back to the car.

What do you want to do?

Why?

AVA Counterbalance Bicycles put on a good show today. Not only did they put on a great race, their racers did quite well too.

You won't see any amazing action shots here, or play by play, or race results or documentary commentary. Because I spent six hours in the beer garden.

But you can read about it here or here or there.

If there was a podium, Seth would be standing on it.

If there was any glory, Seth was basking in it.

If bourbon grew on trees, it would be illegal. Airplane bottles would be a slap on the wrist, unless you had a bag full of ‘em with intent to distribute, pints would be a misdemeanor and half gallons would make you want to retain an attorney.

Legalize it. Grow it. Sell it. Tax it. Think about it.

Saturday. 

today is my Friday. It's the end of the pay period. It's the end of an era. It's the final chapter. This time it's for real...

over

and

out

seattle bike polo

Making one of my favorite purchases at one of my favorite bodegas in the core. I pull out a crisp $10 bill and buy my item. You hand me a worn out old $5 bill and smile. I smile back and stuff that five spot in my wallet and carry on. The next day, same time, same bodega, same purchase…I hand you back that used up fiver and smile. Completing the circle. Finishing some unfinished business. Taking care of what I started. Tying up some loose ends. Yes

Around 8:15am every morning for the last 2.75 years at the corner of 7th & Bell when I don’t make the light and depending on how hung over I am or who’s around I’ll sit and wait for it, because I can, and depending on the weather conditions there will be between 6 and 14 commuters headed South on 7th in a gravy train motley pace line procession from the light at Dexter and Denny. And each and every day it makes me laugh to see them take that right turn onto Bell Street and signal with their left arm cocked up high at a 90 degree old-school-I’m-taking-a-right-angle. I always smile and joke to myself that they’re waving to me and I wave back.

White line here and there doing what needs to be done, flowing through traffic on 4th Avenue, headed straight to base just like I’ve done 1.6 billion times before. When a car rolls up beside me, rolls down his window and points at me, and says
“40 pounds”, then points at his car and says
“4000 pounds”
Then he floors it and gets ahead of me. And if I wasn’t bringing some bullshit hotfire driving work to base for some drivers that were sitting there at base doing their crossword puzzles, I know I would have caught the guy at the next five lights on his way up to Denny and I would have offered my well thought out responses at each of those five intersections. Oh well.

Yesterday I unlocked and hopped off the sidewalk at the PSP headed to One U. Traffic was backed up on 4th so I weaseled through it the wrong way towards University. A couple suits were jaywalking and I saw them all the way but they didn’t see me and one of them walked right into me. I ducked my shoulder to avoid him but his brief case hit my rear wheel. He tried to pretend nothing happened and I slowed down and kept looking back at him, waiting for him to look, so I could silently call him a dumbass with some eye contact, but he wouldn’t look my way. We were both doing what we needed to do…crossing the street…in the city…the small city, that’s no problem. Both breaking the law, it’s a tossup, except you hit me Mr. Suit, I did all I could to avoid you, I saw you the whole time. So I don’t feel bad. I’m all for intelligent jaywalking. Keep your eyes open.


Hang up and drive, YOU SUCK. You’re a horrible driver, can’t you see I’m trying to ride a bike here and talk to my dispatcher on my Nextel and not spill my coffee…shit, you suck.

How many tattoos do you have?

I don’t know, 10 or 12

Wow, I really find that fascinating, it’s really neat, that’s great, can I see that fish on your arm, wow that’s great, wow….(and so on and so on and if I wasn’t waiting for the elevator, I could have walked away…) that’s really great but you should’ve seen the last delivery guy that was here with the wild hair, the piercings, and the crazy clothes, he makes you look like a choir boy.

###

Yin

it was the best of times...

warm, sunny, relaxed smiles all around

lazy RV sessions with plenty of time to strategize and route the work

and you can't help but think, "is this the life or what?"

you want some of this?

OK, but you gotta take some of that too

Yang

it was the worst of times...

dark, rainy, cold

overworked, understaffed, no time to RV at all

a 45 pound stack of documents to file at King County with another pile of shit for opposing counsel, both are RUSHes. And you have to take it all.

and you can't help but think, "I'm getting fucked" 

I don’t read Hebrew, but I’m guessing the epitaph on great great grandpa Pilderwasser's tombstone reads something like: I did it my way so fuck you and I still won’t do what you tell me, life aint nothing but a good groove, bring it. Or something like that.

I've got a little schmaltz in me, but the family disowned great grandpa Pilder (Hirsh's son) when he married a Catholic girl...the rest is history.

Three strikes, I’m out. I’ve been hired three times and I’m quitting three times. Never been fired, but I’ve come close, as close as you can get, toeing the line, walking along it, almost falling over, but not quite. That’s all at one messenger company.

I’ve worked for six messenger companies. Three times at one of them and two times at another. I've never called in sick and I'm never late to work and I’ve never worked at ABC.

Burning bridges…maybe. More like just wearing them out, using them up and getting sick of them. Been there a million times, done that a billion times. Reaching the pinnacle of the legal messenger world, where else can you go? Topping out the hourly messenger pay scale years ago, it gets kind of boring. And there’s no way, at this point, I could go into the office go indoors, sit in that chair, or that chair or that chair, and answer the phone, in an effort to make more money. Nope.

It’s not so much a lateral move, but a well timed strategic maneuver. Fitting right in with the post labor day back to school turn turn turn.

Rekindling old flames, perhaps. Regression is a word that could be used, but I prefer cycle. Cyclical cycle bicycling recycling cycle. Coming back around again. Back where we started. Round ‘n round. Riding the merry go round, but each time I make the cycle, the scenery is slightly different, altered a bit. Familiar and experienced but slightly different. Riding down that same road, but this time I know where the potholes are, I know where the tree went down, I know when to ride high on the edge of the ruts, I know when I’m going to get bogged down in the mud.

do you copy that?

road rash.

the gift that keeps on giving.

a gentle reminder of what is, what was, and what could have been

Dude, this job sucks.

Congratufuckinglations to JL. He's graduating from the messenger industry today after 14 years of hard work.

Moving on to greener pastures. May the road rise with you...and all that hokey shit.

You know what I mean, let's have a beer.

Cheers to Justin.

My horoscope today said:

Gemini

May 20 - June 20

Ironically enough, your creative flair for joking and laughter may have succeeded in pushing people away from you instead of drawing people towards you, dear Gemini. It could be that you have made negative, off-the-cuff comments that you thought nothing of at the time, yet others have taken them quite seriously. You might want to be more aware of this tendency so that you don't end up outwardly offending the people around you.

I copy you. 10-4. Roger. Over.

Vestigial, not much going on, not much to look at, but for some reason they stuck around this long and don’t appear to be leaving soon. Usually harmless but with just enough to become dangerous in the wrong hands.  I’m not talking about your bar ends, I’m talking about your xiphoid process and your appendix too.

For best results squeeze from the bottom and flatten as you go. Shake well before opening. Refrigerate after opening. Oil separation is normal stir & refrigerate. Do not ingest, for topical use only. Lather rinse repeat.

What does it all mean? It means chicken Caesar salads for everyone.

Labor Day Weekend aka discarded futon frame weekend. A national holiday since 1882. A day to kick back, eat donuts and drink beer. A day to look back on how quickly summer has passed while rejoicing that the kids are going back to school. A day to inhale the aroma of football season.

What does it all mean? Whatever you want it to mean, man.

 I’m a big fan of being prepared. However, on the preparedness continuum I fall closer to the minimalist end most of the time. Once in a while I get a little closer to the boy scout end, but in hindsight those seemed overdone and burdensome.

I’m prepared, prepared to suck it up and take it on the chin and even walk it out.  It makes for lighter travel.

Being prepared for every possible contingency makes for one big heavy suitcase to lug around.  What if that happens? What if this happens? What if all of that goes wrong? You’re going to need something to deal with each of those things properly and perhaps a few more things just to deal with the difficulty of carrying those things you’re carrying. And how long is it going to take you to get ready to leave the house in the morning? What if it rains? What if this rain lets up and it gets really hot outside? What if you get a flat tire? What if your chain breaks?

What if? 

Tell me when to do something and I’ll ask why, what’s the point, why the deadline? Why do you need this letter to get to the judge’s mailroom by 1:30pm? I’ll get that letter there in 4 minutes, riding on the sidewalk with a cup of coffee in one hand…because I can. Your deadline is completely meaningless. If you saw the judge’s mailroom maybe you’d understand. Riding with coffee in my right hand has some meaning for me. I like to do things for random personal internal reasons but if you tell me what to do then I won’t want to do it anymore. Tell me I should, I have to, I ought to, I need to, I’m required to…and I’ll say, no thank you. I’ll wear a uniform to work because I feel like it, but if a uniform is required of all employees at all times, I won’t wear one. Tell me what I can’t do and I’ll show you that yes, yes I can.

PS. It's ok to go out wearing slippers if you're going to the liquor store.

Is that Buddha?

I'm not sure, you tell me.

Is that Buddha?

Is that Buddha I see, standing in the road?

Is that Buddha tattooed on your arm? 

An officetron on the elevator yesterday recounted his hard times to a co-worker.  He knew he had to attend a meeting at the Hampton Inn, a hotel on lower queen anne. So he map-quested the address: 700 5th Avenue North. However he apparently forgot the “North”. He printed out the directions and followed them step by step, traveling from his office at 999 3rd Avenue to the Seattle Municipal Tower at 700 5th Avenue, a mere four blocks away, where he spent some time searching for his meeting, before giving up and returning to the office, defeated. I’m still not sure if he realized what happened, what he did or why he did it.  Blaming the website for giving him faulty directions to the hotel. The hotel he knew was by the Seattle Center someplace. If he got it from mapquest it must have been right. If he read it online it must have been true.

He got what he asked for but it wasn't what he wanted.

tourist: Is there a restroom in this building?

Me:  Yeah,  about 150 of them

23 year old hipster kid: I've been drinking since 2:00, I'm wasted...

Me:  I've been drinking for 23 years

An abandoned JC Penny 24" Free Spirit road bike. With two flat tires. This bike in its prime, well adjusted, fully tuned and dialed-in would still suck. Yesterday it was in fullon suck mode. But what do kids do with their bikes when they're sitting around and they have some time to kill? They do some tricks.

Who can clear High Life tallboys in a single bound?

Leland can. He got big air on that janky DWI bar freespirit with two flat tires and bunny hopped that beer can.

I got the before. I got the after. But I didn't get the money shot of him in midair. I blame my camera.

How are you?

I'm fine, how are you?

the other 8 paragraphs have been omitted at this time, in everyone's best interest. 

it's really not a big deal. It's just a symptom of a larger problem. Take a step back and look around for a while. Focus on the underlying issues. Treat the problem at its source and all those little bullshit symptoms will go away. The bandaids on top of duct tape on top of bailing wire will no longer be necessary. The drugs prescribed to treat the side effects of other prescriptions will not be needed. The big picture won't seem so big. 

Wednesday is a whacking day.  

Business died down around 3:15. Not much going on. Hangin and hangin some more…then I was called into base for an LQA and the daily FedEx run out of Pier 70. I rolled through base then up 4th Ave onto Denny, crossing Broad street a BMW changes lanes and cuts me off, no problem. Then he changes his mind and goes back, no problem but this time I’m in his side view mirror on the driver’s side and I give him a gentle brush, a little flutter with the back of my right hand and some eye contact. Still rolling with it. Then he changes his mind again and switches back to the right lane. OK whatever. He got ahead of me and probably switched lanes a few more times. Then Denny turns into three Westbound lanes.  Approaching 1st Ave the light changes to red and I’m splitting lanes and rolling up to the intersection. As I roll even with Mr. BMW he's on my left  and he rolls down his passenger side window. I’ve got nothing to say to him but I’m interested to hear what he has for me. So I feather the front brake and hover with him for a moment. He’s got nothing for me but a great big grin. I’m not sure if he’s looking for an apology or going to offer me one, but all the while I’m thinking: if I wasn’t such a seasoned professional, I’d have a few things for you buddy…bodily fluids, empty containers, a U-lock, hand gestures, and an unprecedented string of profanities. He had obviously never dealt with an urban cyclist in a similar situation because he would not have opened that potential can of whoop ass through the passenger side window of his beautiful BMW by rolling it down for me in traffic. Apparently his driving style hasn’t proven its inefficiency yet. Perhaps he just moved back from LA and he still jumps on the chance to change lanes for no reason.

I rolled on. Through that light. Through the next one and then ghost locked at 200 2nd West. Holding the legal documents in my hand I stood and waited for my buddy to roll by on his way to his huge house in Magnolia.(the one he paid cash for I’m guessing with the profits from the townhouse he recently sold in Culver City) When he finally did I gave him my victory salute and he shook his fist at me. I won. Clean. Smooth. Professional. Not a word out of my mouth, not a stutter in my pedal stroke. He didn’t learn much from our encounter. Next time he may not be so lucky.

This photo could have been taken 18 hours ago, on the back porch at Linda's. Craig is smiling, Sam is philosophizing, Newman is tending to business. They're all wet. It really doesn't matter if it's raining.

But this photo was taken 18 months ago. The rest holds true.

is it raining out there?

Congratulations to the Kelly Benefit - Medifast team, including Mr. Jonny Sundt, for bringing home the win at the US Pro Crit Championships. Big Big Big Time Win for Martin Gilbert.

J. Devich photo from cyclingnews.com  

If your stepmom gives you a gift certificate to a large retail book store, record store, variety store or on-line megastore and you don't know what to buy with your $17.00, buy this album. Recorded in 1984 on SST records it will surely be the gift that keeps on giving. 44 tracks of greatness. One of the all time best. I'm not joking. Your stepmom has it and she knows how good it is, but she sure as hell won't give up her copy.

Word of mouth has made the Bandit increasingly popular. Three Thieves Bandit boxed wine. The retail price helps too. I like it. Not just because it's cheap but because I can toss three of these boxes in my messenger bag and ride home with confidence, hauling the equivalent to 4 glass bottles of wine at fraction of the weight. But  the next morning I still feel like I drank a lot of cheap wine. The doctor said a glass of red wine is good for you. So a few liters must be even better.  

I don't know this guy

but I know these two guys...

that's Justin and Dan in front of the PSP a few months ago. As seen in this week's Stranger on page 11.  

It's all about the font.

What's that g stand for? Is that a snake or a g? What's that? I don't get it.

It's not a g thing

it's a g thing

it's all about the font, the NY Times magazine knows The Road to Clarity

Here's to offering Nordstom quality at a WalMart price.

Route Service --- My Ass

thanks for the hustle guys, and you too Molly

photo by Dan Wilson.

The latest RAGBRAI slideshow is almost full. My site's server is almost full. Thanks for all the photos Chris, Lori, Wendy and Rusty.

RAGBRAI XXXV click to view

One way or another.

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. Sometimes you want to go where nobody knows your name. Sometimes you want to change your name.

What it is. What it was. What it's turning into.

Which is worse? Being painfully hip and trendy or clinging to a lifestyle you lived 20 years ago. From a distance they look similar. Ill fitting outfits, time consuming hairstyles.  To the casual observer they may even be interchangeable. And beneath the surface they may be rooted in the same insecurities and misdirected energy. One way or another. I find both conditions very interesting.

"You're going the wrong way !"

"How do you know where I'm going?"

RedKev knows what's up. 

sometimes this job doesn't suck.

sometimes this job sucks.

I wouldn't want your job on a day like this. If your job sucks more than sometimes...maybe you should quit. It's not my fault. I didn't put you there. We didn't put you there. They didn't put you there. You put yourself there. You sold out. Now you're paying for it.  You pay what you get for. You get what you pay for. 

It's not about the money. I know what a "living wage" is in Seattle. I know how much money you make. I know how much money I make. I know how much money I should be making. If it was about the money I would've kept moving in 1997.

You gotta do what you wanna do. Don't blame it on your family or your "responsibilities"

Do what you need to do.

Tyler's one-of-a-kind sampler

Your 3rd grade teacher was right. Your babysitter was just trying to help. Your parents actually were looking out for your best interests.

Back then you thought Mrs. Grier was full of shit. You thought your babysitter was a tremendous slacker and you couldn't believe she got paid to watch TV. And you thought your parents were way off base.

Thursday is a drinking day. I need beer to live, don't just look away.

Does it all make sense now? Don't worry it never will.

Chris Murray sent me a cd with 577 more photos from RAGBRAI XXXV.  I'll be updating the slide show with some great shots from Chris, Lori, Wendy and Rusty...one of these days. Thanks Chris

You are what you think about all day.

I was down on a frown when the messenger brought me a letter

take a moment and feel the summer. The rolling out of bed in a t-shirt and short shorts and rolling to work with barely one layer on, no need to bring three more. Sweating through a t-shirt or two. Well defined sweat lines. Working on a t-shirt tan. Dogging the dog days of summer. Just a little pause of recognition because it'll sneak up on you. One morning you'll feel it, a chill in the air. You'll smell it creeping in, autumn and football season. You'll feel it in the pit of your stomach, that back-to-school feeling. I haven't been back to school for years but it still gets me. I appreciate football season and crisp fall weather but I don't like that pit of the stomach thing. It's barely August but...you know what I'm saying.

Black T-shirts will always have a special place in my world. But soon you can buy American Apparel pilderwasser shirts in Cranberry, Grass, Orange and Olive. Sizes limited. Choices limited. It's nice to know your limits, to have clear boundaries, so you can step over them. You can't get what you want, 'til you know what you want. You can't always get what you want. Tell me what you want, what you really really want...

but here's what you can get:

small in Black

medium in Orange

large in Olive

XL in Black

XXL in Black

women's medium in Cranberry

women's large in Grass

Repeat as needed.

one for you two for me

one if by land two if by sea

one bell for up two bells for down

one more for the road...better make it two

two wheels are better than four

a bird in hand is worth two in the bush

a hand in the bush is worth two birds

one two  one two

This is Garrett. He's 8 years old and he has ridden 2 RAGBRAIs on a tandem with his dad. It's hard to see in this DesMoines Register photo but he's got a pilderwasser sticker on his helmet and on the top tube of his bike. He's also sporting an Evil sticker, he know what's up. He knows where it's at. Where it is at. He also knows that pilderwasser had a team member arrested in Blackhawk county, who then blew a .278 and spent the night in jail. Do you think anyone on team Evil could blow a .278?

168 cans of Busch Light

117 cans of Miller Lite

36 cans of Bud Light

6 gallons of Gatorade

17 gallons of water

18 bratwurst

11 Made Rites

16 BBQ pork sandwiches

7 pork loins

bucket of baked beans

tub of potato salad

18 ears of sweet corn

pie

ice cream

cookies

500 miles

7 days

1 bike ride

and I lost weight

No not pillowofficer, it's pilderwasser.

Oh is that German? What the hell does that mean? That's not very inspiring. What does that have to do with bikes? I know wasser means water,  but why is that your team name? Did you drive that thing out here from Boston?

take me home. Another RAGBRAI under my belt. Stories and more photos soon. This is JImbo and Dan yesterday morning on a beautiful off-route road heading into town to rejoin the circus.  

Iowa, I said Iowa. Not Idaho. Not Indiana. Not Illinois. Iowa.

RAGBRAI XXXV starts this weekend...actually it started this afternoon when Dan got off work in Boston and started the trek West with the core of the crew.

My third consecutive annual busman‘s holiday . If you're looking for interactive route maps, information on the overnight towns, weather updates, wholesome family photos, a where's-Lance-report, blogs from pampered DesMoines Register staff or anything RAGBRAI you won't find it here. You can find all that crap there And then in a couple weeks you'll find the truth, the real story, the dirt...yeah, you'll get that here or here

Standby, if I'm not back in 10 days, just wait longer. There will be photos and stories and sunburns. 

I don’t know the real story, but I saw this on the street today, took and picture and here’s what I think was going on:

These two office workers took the time to get everyone’s drink orders and write them down, then they took up a collection of cash, or just used petty cash from the office manager, then they got the little rolly-cart thing from the mailroom and pushed it two blocks down the street to Starbucks, where they waited for 25 coffee drinks to be prepared (and it appears at least 75% of the drinks were foo-foo) Then they slowly pushed the cart back to office and distributed the drinks, then stood around and talked about the drinks, Starbucks, the drink preparation and the drink transportation mission.

Limiting our focus to just these two office workers, we’re looking at 3.5 hours of productivity down the drain. When we bring in all 25 coffee drink drinkers, productivity for the day is shot.

If you don't feel like working, that's cool, don't go to work, take the day off. But don't show up and try to bullshit the day away with stuff like this.

Starbucks, foo-foo drinks, little janky rolly pushcart thing, sandbaggers goldbrickers slackers and wind baggers. Time wasting followed by talking about time wasting.

A tremendous display of horseshit.

I'll take a tall drip, black.

I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Are you talking about homeless people?

Oh, no. We're talking about bike messengers.

Cutoff Shorts: Abercrombie

Roadmaster Coozie: DANK Bags

Top Tube Pad: DANK Bags

Sporting all three at once: Too Much

When the temperature reaches 90 in Seattle, things change. Pickle juice drinking, ass crack sweating, cotton mouth scraping, dumpster rotting, honey bucket cooking hot, hot for Seattle. This was the only time you’ll see all three of these items in the same place. Photos by 87 Justin.

"Abercrombie Bitches" -Corndog's T-shirt

"too much is never enough, it's always too much" -Dan Murray

That's Jonny Sundt, the only pro racer sponsored by pilderwasser.

He won on Saturday.

Photo courtesy Wheels in Focus  

When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed...When I have nothing to say I hum a song from the '80s. Nothing says 80s like Ronald Reagan, the Reagan Years, The Say No to Drugs Administration, and the end of the Cold War

Ron Jr. and Nancy on a tandem, are you kidding me?

I have nothing to say.

on your left!

no I'm on your right!

Orange Whip?

A cultural reference from The Blues Brothers. Kept alive by guys like Chris Murray who inspire heavy drinkers like me to keep drinking.

This year my RAGBRAI training is in peak form. The bike riding is second nature but my gastro-intestinal training has surpassed anything I've ever done before. Aside from the over training I did in SF at the NACCC, things are going well. As I discussed with Claire, I am able to drink vast quantities of beer, eat several brats or a burrito and hop right back on the bike and ride quickly to the next beer garden. There are plenty of cyclists out there. Plenty of heavy drinkers. And lots and lots of eaters. But how many people can bring it all together and function at an elevated level on all three fronts?

A 24oz High Life, a mondo veggie burrito, a 'teener to 505 5th South. No problem.

Two pork loin sandwiches, six cups of Miller Lite, 15 miles to the next town. No problem.

orange whip?

RAGBRAI is seven days long. But this year I've been training non stop. It's like this and like that and like this, uh let's say you're a working stiff. Showing up for work, working your ass off every day. Working hard. Doing your job. Working not because you like it, but because you're working towards your retirement. Working your ass off to get to the day when you can retire. But the truth is, when you finally do retire, you're going to drop dead. So, you might as well enjoy yourself along the way, put a little retirement into your everyday life. Life doesn't start at retirement, the fun won't wait around for you until then so get a taste of it now. All work and no play makes Jack a real asshole.

Put a little RAGBRAI in your everyday life, no need to limit yourself to just seven days a year.

who can live RAGBRAI?

the messenger, the messenger can

the messenger can 'cause he mixes it with beer and makes the world taste good.

If you're out for a bike ride and you get a song stuck in your head...you can thank JP because he's winning or Justin because this one will be blowing through the jasmine in your mind for a while

If the driver of an SUV uses his turn signal and there's no one around, does it make a sound?

If you design a waterless urinal and convince the government that it's economical and good for the environment, will you make a lot of money?

If your girlfriend won't let you throw away a six pack ring without cutting it up first, where is your relationship going?

4 Brats, countless beers and a little bike riding.

Bratwurst, Beer, Bikes. Sounds like Iowa in July. Can you smell what I'm saying?

This morning I grabbed my bike and the rear tire was about 30 pounds low. So I pumped it up and went to work. I rode it all day, no problem, but in the early afternoon it was noticeably low, a very very slow leak that started last Friday. I kept checking it and checking it again all afternoon, reminded of a story 33 John told me years ago. He spoke of a late night winter bike ride with friends on snow covered roads around Salt Lake City. On the ride he was continually checking his tire pressure with a squeeze, unsure if he actually was losing air pressure or if the super-human levels of strength he achieved from dropping so much acid had allowed him to squeeze his tires harder than normal.

Thinking you have a stomach ache is the same thing as having a stomach ache. If you think you have a flat and you’re fixating on it, you might as well have a flat. It’s not that you’re hungover, or tired, or dehydrated, or hungry, or tripping balls. It’s that slow leak in your back tire that’s slowing you down… or at least you think it is. I’m a big fan of psychosomatic illnesses as well as the placebo effect. It’s all in my mind.

Sometimes a nice clean puncture, quick and painless, beats the long drawn out obsession with a slow leak. No energy wasted on the wondering, the questioning, the checking, the squeezing, the doubting.

I need to replace that inner tube. Or maybe I’ll just have a beer and go to sleep. Then in the morning I can pump it up again and go to work.

PS. 10 hours later

...it was July 3, the day before the 4th of July

I got up early and fixed the slow leak. I discovered an inner tube that had been patched once already sometime in the last six to eight months. When the temperature reaches 77 in Seattle you can expect the integrity of an old patch to be compromised. You can expect integrity in general to be compromised.

Traditionally when the 4th of July falls on a Wednesday,  tradition is out the window.

Speed: an asset

Solid Work Ethic: valuable

Bike Mechanic Skills: a bonus

Seeing the big picture : priceless

Victor Vanepps photo. Thanks Victor.

You want some of this? That's cool.

You don't want some? That's cool too. whatever.

Read the fine print.

I'm not running a business here. I'm not making any money. I'm not a T-shirt factory. I'm a bike messenger. American Apparel shirts retail for $18...so I'm hand screening these shirts and selling them to civilians for $2 over retail, that's a deal. My time is worth way more than your T-shirt. The margin of utility is as clear as ever.

From now on I will be "screening" the customer before I screen a shirt for them.

"imperfection is perfection" --Richard Sachs 

there are very few reasons to lock up to this railing at 10:30am on a Wednesday.

I didn't put the DANK sticker up...but I bet I know the person who did. It's perfect placement. Ideal. Reaching out and targeting the working messenger demographic without being overbearing or annoying to civilians. Subtle yet effective. Well thought out.

Tuesday is the new Wednesday and today is my Thursday. Thursday is the new Friday. 

You might be a cyclist if you have seven pairs of cycling shoes in your closet, four sets of flip-flops and only three pairs of civilian shoes.

Like I said before, I'm not a bike messenger, I'm an elevator messenger that rides a bike to the next elevator. Which means I walk around a lot. When I'm clipped in and pedaling a bike, nothing beats a pair of Sidi Shoes But when I'm sauntering around the Court Houses in and for the County of King, it's nice to have some comfortable shoes and Sidis are not the best walking shoes. Which brings it all back to compromise. These shoes are made for walking and that's just what they'll do...but I can clip in too, because sometimes I actually ride my bike.

When I was your age I wore Sidis all day everyday with no socks. Comfort was not my concern. I'm not so sure what my concerns were, but now I don't mind being a bit more comfortable.

I've owned three or four pairs of Lake MX-165 cycling shoes, a decent compromise with Vibram soles, perfect for sauntering legal elevator messengers. And now, I've taken the next step to the MX-190 same shoe with the deluxe added feature of a ratcheting buckle. I could go on and on and if I was sponsored by Lake, I would.

Go on.

The Cascade Bike Club offers classes and programs to encourage people to ride their bikes to work. A little nudge, a confidence boost for cyclists who perhaps don’t feel comfortable riding in the traffic they’ll encounter along the way to their place of work. I think this is a great idea and is a big part of what’s needed in order to get more people out of their cars and commuting by bike.

Yesterday I rode with Justin on his way home. A ten mile jaunt heading north out of the city. And as I tried to keep up with him all I could think of was the “bike buddy” program, as if he was my bike buddy showing me the bike commuting ropes. He was pointing out potholes, gravel patches and stuff like 4 way intersections that don’t require much slowing down. The highlight was the 5-way intersection at the Fremont Bridge. We were coasting down the hill on Dexter towards the bridge and he’s telling me about the cross traffic and what it tends to do and when it tends to do it, all the while watching the flow then he says “like now” and we gap the intersection at full speed passing a few commuters patiently waiting for the light who all turned and gawked and I was laughing like a small child.

did you see that Dave?

that light was red

did you see that? 

Do what I do professionally

To tell the truth I am exactly what I want to be

Well, pretty close, at least today, here and now. It's never too late to go back to school. There's plenty of time for that. However I think it is too late for me becasue of my attitude and feelings about organized learning and higher education and what it all means in the context of "work" anyway. I know a couple messengers with graduate degrees. I know a couple millionaires that dropped out of school. What does it all mean?

It means, I wouldn't want your job on a day like this.

cause I heard it in the wind

and I saw it in the sky

and I thought it was the end

and I thought it was the 4th of July

I smell a Corn Dog Race coming up.

It won't be on the 4th of July, but it's coming soon.

photo above: Hella Corndog III, courtesy MorrisPost.

Rock it, yeah. wait, I mean Rocket yeeaahhhh...

Yesterday during a pause in the action, a brief respite, a so-called coffee break, I was chilling with Cory on the backside of 999 enjoying a slice of pizza and a cold beverage. I was clear and going nowhere fast. He was headed south and getting dispatched more work.

When I think of a South run I think, 1201, 1191, 1000, 999, 1109, 801, 705, 811, 119, 216, 100 S. King, 401 2nd S., 705 5th S. Visualize each of those buildings and me delivering to at least one law firm in each.

But those KnR kids roll in a different world. Cory’s South run was 117 S. Holgate, 6100 East Marginal Way South and 4000 44th Avenue South. Can you feel that?  That little loop was more miles than I ride in 3 days bouncing and yo-yoing in the core. I get grumpy when I go to 701 5th eight times in one day or Pier 70 four times or the courthouse five times. It’s a different world YO. YO.

Copy that? Copy receive this. Copy?

NO GUM CHEWING

NO HATS

NO CELL PHONES

NO FOOD

NO BEVERAGES

read the sign on the courtroom door. The sign on the other door read:

ALL DELIVERIES MUST GO TO THE JUDGE'S MAILROOM

But the client told me to take it to the judge, so I threw open the door and walked in, chewing gum, wearing a hat, my Nextel blaring group channel banter and a cup of coffee in my hand. Interrupting a criminal trial to deliver some working copies for a divorce case that won't be heard for 18 months. I ignored the bailiff and looked right at the judge and said

"How you doin?...you sure are lookin good Your Honor, I've got a little something here for you if I could just get you to stamp the messenger slip, that would be great."

I didn't really do this, but some of our clients think this is what we do with their working copies for the judge. 

TANG, canned ham, French bread, red wine and a candle.

Buy your bikes at Counterbalance. Get your bikes fixed at Counterbalance.

Tell your friends.  

I'm not competitive. I don’t race. I don’t do alley cats. I don’t do bike polo. I’m not a team player. (I was a placekicker in high school, and that’s as far as you can get from being a team player and still be on the team). Not that there’s anything wrong with all that. Go for it. Race. Go fast. Get it. Atta Boy.

However, when I get worked at work all day, then go out drinking for 4 more hours after that, and then riding home, some car brushes me…touching the hairs on my left arm with his side view mirror just so he can get to the next open space in gridlock traffic, then it’s GAME ON. Out of nowhere I’ll get some energy because I know I’ll catch that asshole at the next light. And I’ve got the home field advantage because I’ve ridden this route 1.7 billion times. I know the lights. I know the traffic. I know I’ll catch up to them.

So I caught up to that asshole and gave him an oh-so gentle tap on the passenger window and a little point and nod to say “remember me? How you like me now?” then I left him in traffic and rode on up the hill.

Sometimes it's a good idea to plan ahead. Even if your plan is, to not plan ahead, I don't recommend this

It's only a month away.RAGBRAI And it's only 13 months to next year's ride.

Form follows function. Everything you need nothing you don't. Refined. Specialized. Focused.

There's nothing wrong with being a specialist. Being really good at one thing. The master of your domain. The king of your little castle. But I say there is something to be said for versatility. Why limit yourself, like a government worker who sticks to her job description so tightly she can't do anything that would help out the messenger or expedite the process, because it's not her job. Even though it makes sense, it's obvious, it's right there in front of her face, but no, that's not her job, she can't sign for that delivery. Take it to the next bullet proof window. Are you fucking kidding me?

High quality arm warmers do come in handy in this spring-like weather we've had for the last 6 months in Seattle. And they also come in handy for other things. Why limit yourself? Don't sell yourself short.

Ask Molly how many comments and questions she got today on her new AVA Counterbalance arm warmers.  

Thanks for the arm warmers Cat. I'm sending you, via bike messenger,  a coupon for one free pilderwasser shirt.

And remember...

don't change the things you look at

change the way you look at things

Carey Schleicher-Haselhorst and Jonny Sundt both recently spent some time in Minneapolis. Independently but at nearly the same time. Both of them rode bikes with Hurl and hungout at the One on One bike shop coffee shop art gallery hangout bike culture vortex. (Carey took this photo)

Both Carey and Jonny know a lot more than a little bit about bikes and bike culture and both have great things to say about this place. And I believe what they‘re saying. So next time you’re rolling through Minneapolis check it out.

I was born without the look-for-a-parking-space gene.

In its place I have the lock-up-next-to-the-door gene.

Traffic signs and arrows appeal to me, at a basic level.

Seattle is full of ONE WAY streets, but I see variations on the theme.

MY WAY

YOUR WAY

EITHER WAY

GET OUT OF THE WAY

SHOW ME THE WAY

GO YOUR OWN WAY

JUST GO AWAY

HAVE A NICE DAY

IT'S NOT THAT WAY

YOU'RE IN MY WAY

Yesterday I waited 20 minutes for a rush that wasn’t ready. By the time they finally brought it out my legs had turned to rocks and I had to ride straight up Pill Hill to a doctor’s office because these documents were “very important” and had to be there right away.

The whole way up I felt terrible, no air in my tires, brake pads rubbing, chain line way off, crank bolts loose, my cleats worn out and slipping out the pedals, my bag weighed 1000 pounds and I didn’t eat lunch. It was all in my mind…but it wasn’t.

This morning I reached in my bag to get some quarters to do laundry and this is what I found:

$3.59 in change
1 DANK docuholder
7 Perkins docuholders
New York Times book review
Various post cards and stickers
5 pens
1 sharpie
1 hi lighter
14 binder clips
13 rubber bands
46 paper clips
Wallet
Keys
Motorola i305 Nextel
Chapstick
Axley technical eyewear x (2)
Orange cap
Brighter Orange cap
Pearl Izumi vest
AVA Counterbalance arm warmers
Long sleeve shirt
Camera
DANK coozie 16oz
RAGBRAI coozie 12oz
Notary Stamp (Washington State, residing in Seattle)
Small notebook
Frame pump
Inner tube
Bike tools (minimal)
6 zip ties
Water bottle
Bag of raisins
Sugar free gum

That’s my bag in its “neutral state”, when there’s no work on board, no very important legal documents that must be filed right away, no passports from the Consulate, no Excise Tax affidavits to record. No beer. Just my purse.

I tossed the paper clips, took out the loose change, removed a couple  ballpoint pens, got rid of the raisins and  the book review. But the rest of it is essential.

The bag is about half a pound lighter but it's all in my mind.  

You're only as good as your last kick

...your last hit single

...your last big save

...your last profitable quarter

... or your last fuckup

You know who Scott Norwood is. Not because he was a solid kicker for years, but because he choked on one kick and lost the Super Bowl.

Atta Boy.

Ah Shit.

Do you know how many "atta boys" it takes to neutralize one "ah shit" ?

a lot, it takes a lot.

The difference between the hero and goat is about, -this much-

so don't fuck it up.

if you do...we'll let you know. Then we'll let you know again and again.

we don't keep track of the atta boys, we just react to the ah shits.

atta boy

don‘t cha wish your pilderwasser hot like me?

that's JP and that's Molly

and they're both wearing American Apparel pilderwasser shirts

don't cha wish you could sing loud like JP?

don't cha wish you could dance more like Molly? 

don't cha? 

Ali is pleased with his CETMA rack. He told me it translates to an extra $20 - $40 per day in bulk and box jobs he can deliver each day. If that's the case, your CETMA will pay for itself in less than a week. Yesterday he took a box from Kinkos Capitol Hill to Kinkos Convention Center and made $25 on that tag. Without the rack it would have gone to a driver. word.

Check out Kelsey's website for some great photos from SF. This is a Kelsey Wood photo of Seth in the NACCC main race. 

You wanna go? then go

You wanna stay? that's cool, stay there

But until you make up your mind...

...get the hell outta the way

Feel the pain.

Ride it out.

Pedal harder.

I’m a big fan of taking it for what it is. When it’s winter time it’s cold, wear a sweater. When it’s summer time it’s hot, take your shirt off.

When there’s a big hill pedal harder and grind it out. When you're done on the hill, turn around and bomb down it until your eyes water, until you can't see.

It’s like living in a log cabin in Montana and complaining about being cold in the winter or hot in the summer. Or driving a 1967 Ford pickup and complaining about having to parallel park it on Capitol Hill. What are doing? What did you expect?

Do you want to enjoy the good stuff? Then you have to eat the bad stuff too. Ups and downs. Yins and Yangs. Fronts and backs.

If you want to live your life in a pain-free climate controlled Popemobile…numb to the world, go ahead, ride it out, gray, middle ground, safe Blahsville.

Whatever you want to do is cool with me, but until you make up your mind…

Get the hell outta the way.

I want one of these. I don't need another bike, but the price is right. I could put a bigger gear on it and smaller tires and make it look more like all my other bikes. Brant has had one for a little while and he's already inspired several more people to get one.  It's 4130 Chromoly, of course. 

What if you do everything right, follow instructions, respect authority, play by the rules, obey the law, play it safe, drink moderately, eat right, get plenty of rest and don’t smoke?
Then what? What happens then? Will it all pay off in the end? Will things work out for you? Was it all worth it? Do you feel better? Are you doing what you’re doing because it’s the right thing to do, or because you’re afraid of getting caught?

Are you doing it because you want to?

Did you hear about the vegan who died of colon cancer?

Did you hear about the two-pack-a-day smoker that lived to be 112?

Can you do the right thing, by the book, be conservative and still enjoy yourself? Wear a helmet. Wear a seatbelt. Wear a condom. Wear a life vest. Wear a florescent yellow rain jacket every day of the year. Wear a sign that says you play it safe.

Are you wearing it because you want to? Do you feel strange without it?

Your zebra print cowboy hat and BonJovi T-shirt tucked in to your white Cipollini bib shorts.

Congratulations to Matt Case for his victory in the Ballard Crit yesterday. Amara Boursaw photo.

Wheels in Focus

I got this link from PJ. Thank you PJ.

Congratulations to Robert Ortega, he's moving on to other things. And this time it's for real. Really

This guy has been a messenger since the Reagan Administration, since a lot of you kids were in preschool, since back in the day, for a long long time.

here are a couple of my favorite Ortega quotes:

"never had a bad day"

Q: "why do old messengers keep coming back?"

A: "because they never learn"

Wednesdays, All You Can Eat Haggis at Ned & Edna's 

We've got a bus this year. (Chris Murray photo) History will unfold around this bus, stories to be told, and so on, and stuff like that. 

It may be too late for you to take the time off work for this year's ride, but next year you should be there.

I'm not joking. RAGBRAI. It's kind of a big deal, Google it...

today, Cat found Jesus

If I only had (A) then I'd be (B)

Fill in the blanks. If A then B. Repeat as needed.

If you think you’ve heard this before, you have.
It’s a recurring theme, Happiness…if and only if.

As a dog returneth to his vomit,

so a fool returneth to his folly.

just keep plugging away. Try it again. Do over. Repeat. And expect different results this time. This time it'll be different. This time things will work out.

Have you been drinking?

Yes sir, for about 21 years.  

Bret from ABQ sent me this photo. In the foreground that's a Surly sporting a DANK toptube pad with a pilderwasser screen on it. But a short distance off in the background, there's a snake. A 4.5 foot snake that Bret crossed paths with on the way to the pub and bunny hopped at the last second.

You don't see that in Seattle.

Cheers to the woman who approached me yesterday at 800 5th when I was unlocking my bike and told me she enjoyed the site in the morning with a cup of coffee...thanks for the good word.

It surprises me when people I know read this stuff, but I was quite surprised she knew who I was, because I didn't know who she was. 

When I told Justin, he said it's because of all those photos I post of myself on the site, of course she'd recognize me. So then I thought...perhaps she recognized me from this photo taken in the Six Arms. Yeah this must be  the one.  

cheers 

And on the seventh day she said "let the sinus cavities clear"

And it was good

riding around in the best weather we've had all year with a wicked sinus infection makes everything a bit surreal. If it was chilly and raining it would somehow seem more appropriate.

I’ve never really been a fan of folding bikes, but after Justin and I spoke with this guy he convinced me that if I were to buy a folding bike I’d buy a Brompton They’re made in the UK of reinforced steel with cast iron joints. British through and through with a Brooks saddle and Sturmey-Archer three speed internal rear hub. They have a little derailleur too making it a six-speed, which is more than enough to get you where you’re going. They’re not light, weighing in at around 27 pounds. But they’re solid and durable and fold up in less than 30 seconds to the size of microwave oven. Bromptons have a loyal following and they seem to look condescendingly towards Bike Fridays   which are made in the USA.

Bromptons easily fit in the overhead compartment on a plane. This guy, the yellow bike owner, has ridden his Bromptons all over the world with his wife and taken them on every form of public transportation. Avoiding the $80 charge that airlines charge to bring your bike on the plane would be great. If you travel a lot with your bike, a folding bike or one with S & S couplings at least would make sense. And your investment would soon pay for itself.

I took the red bike photo last year outside the Admin Building, and at the time I didn’t know it was a Brompton. It just might be owned by the same guy, or maybe it’s his wife’s.

If you stay in one place long enough, things will come around again.
If you travel a lot you’ll end up back where you started.

Does that relatively small oiled-canvas T2 bag radiate badass messenger energy? I'm not so sure. I am sure however that Craig here is the fastest fixed gear in North America and he is a badass messenger. You perhpas wouldn't have known this when you saw him in sandals riding the pink bike around.

That bag he was sporting yesterday is a prize he won at the NACCC in SF. When I was your age, bags that size were the norm. These days however, messenger bags are quite a bit larger, more comfortable and contain many more features and do-dads.

shortly after I told you about my seagull friend at 1001, he stopped by and downed a bag of cookies left behind by a lunching office worker

Dope, doping, dopers have been around since bike racing started which was as soon as bikes were invented. The only thing that has changed over the years is the definition of "dope". Pushing the human body through a 21 stage grand tour at world class speed is a super-human feat. Cocaine, red devils, blue demons, speed, crank, meth, pot, whiskey, beer, wine, pcp, epo, lsd, mushrooms, sudafed, testosterone, bovine hormone, human growth hormones, a cup of coffee. You name it, they've tried it.

I say draw the line somewhere and from that point on, be consistent.

But forget all the past tour winners, retired superstars and washed up domestiques coming forward now to confess. There's no reason to take away a yellow jersey, or kick someone out of the hall of fame.  Leave the past alone. Move on. I need some coffee. 

There's a seagull that hangs out at 1001 4th all day. I can identify.

Puget Sound is just a few blocks away, there are three very large lakes near by. He could be a lot of other places. He could earn a living doing a lot of other things. But he likes it downtown. He splashes in the fountain, admires the artwork, watches the people go by. He keeps an eye on the garbage cans, all five of them, especially near the restaurants.

Mr. Seagull's parents have lectured him many times about career choices, mostly about his lack of any career at all. Both parents have advanced degrees in seagull BS and retired to the South Lake Union area. His older brother makes a good living working the waterfront, eating french fries and clam chowder at Ivars. His older sister moved to Shaw Island years ago and she is so arrogant she won't talk to him anymore. His younger sister works the Bremerton Ferry 4 days a week and cleans up. But my seagull friend hangs at 1001 and spends a lot of time thinking. Thinking about what's important and what isn't. And what it all means.

I'm not sure what it all means but I know I won't do what you tell me

Are you going to SF?

Yes. Yes I am.

I'll see you there.  

And I won't see you here for a few days,

but I'll tell you a story when I get back and maybe I'll have some photos too.  

if anyone can gracefully walk the coffee-beer continuum, Jonny Sundt can.

Those cans aren't empty, they're still full.

Those aren't rings on his fingers.

Those aren't the glasses he rode in with. 

...Jonny Sundt can, 'cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good.

do you want to see another photo of Levi at the Tour de Georgia? Or Boonen? Or some cute kid on a bike? Or do you want to see a photo of Sebastian‘s drivetrain? And Seth has a photo in there too...check it out.

With RAGBRAI only a couple months away, the NACCC will be perfect training. If you won't be attending the festivities in SF here's a training excercise you can do on your own.

Go for a bike ride. Along the way buy a six pack of tallboys and drink four or five of them. Then continue riding along. Then buy and consume a couple pork sandwiches, a corn dog and some icecream. Continue riding along. When you feel nature calling continue riding for a while. Then ride some more. Then ride towards a large festival or gathering. The Folk Life Festival in Seattle, is a perfect example. What you're looking for is any public place that has lots of people and over used honeybuckets, aka Kybos. To really simulate RAGBRAI conditions you need extreme temperatures and extremely over used Kybos baking in the sun. But in your training you can imagine the details. If you're in an isolated area look for a construction site with a poorly maintained Kybo or two.

Now when you find a Kybo, don't give in yet, this is training. Stand in front of the Kybo for 5 or 6 minutes before you go in, to simulate the lines you'll encounter all across Iowa. Repeat as needed.

PS  A cornfield beats the shit out of a Kybo 

the time is nearly now,  almost here, around the corner, upon us. Here we go.

Eat, Drink, Be Merry and ride a bike in San Francisco with 1000 other messengers.

Tell the chamber of commerce how each messenger will pump hundreds of dollars each day into the local economy. Food, Drink, Hotels, Travel and Drink  some more food and a few more drinks too.

It's like the Tailhook convention mixed with the Shriners convention mixed with the Olympics then toss in some RAGBRAI crossed with an alleycat race as if it was all in Las Vegas. But it's in SF.  You get the picture.

This sticker traveled to Spain for 10 days with Craig, then it decided to stick around for a while and not make the  return to Seattle.

Thanks for the photo Craig. 

Just riding along thinking about this girl I had a crush on in Junior High...daydreaming...zoning out...zoning in...she blinded me with science---SCIENCE.  Then the brake lights on one of the parked cars on the right went out and I subconsciously looked for a face in the sideview mirror. Then the driver's side door opened slowly and I saw the driver's left hand...no problem. I've seen it all before and I didn't alter my line at all because I don't take lines that close to parked cars unless I have no choice. But then I saw the driver's left foot come up and kick the door all the way open, all four feet of it, as far as it could go, as fast as it could go...that's gonna be a problem. I was no longer thinking about Traci. I was reacting and existing a bit more in the present moment and moving to my left and verbalizing a few things to Mr. Car Door too...

Yesterday was Bike to Work Day. Which for many people meant it was actually Take the Bus Home Day, Leave Your Bike at Work Day, Call Your Wife for a Ride Home Day, Screw Riding Back Up Those Hills Day, Only if it's Not Raining Day, I am Really Tired Day and so on.

I am all for getting more people out there on bikes.

And riding at least one way to work or at least part of the way is a good start.

Campy Record bottle cage: $120

Campy Chorus bottle cage: $85

24oz can of Miller High Life: $2

Going your own way: priceless

Would you be seen with an old plastic bottle cage- you pulled off your '89 Rockhopper -on your full Record grupo DeRosa?

Would you be seen with a $120 carbon Record bottle cage on your '89 Rockhopper?

Can you fit a roadmaster of High Life in your bottle cage?

Go your own way go your own way  

What are you holding? what's your next stop? what's your line?  

tomorrow is Starbucks Bike to Work Day. There will be 38 commuter stations set up around the greater Seattle area. None of them fall on my short route to work. However I may leave early and re-route, taking a long loop into town and hitting two or three of those stations along the way and collecting a little schwag.

route, routine, route, rote, rote, rote, rut. routine. 

The guy on the left is Justin. The guy on the right is scaring me.

Ronald McD was hanging out front at the Hotel Monaco this morning.

There's a theme here someplace...

I see red people. 

After a long day of work, it’s nice to go out and have a beer in a low key Belltown bar. Then maybe have another, and one more and maybe one more after that. Today after work I had a couple beers in that low key bar, then went to the men’s room and when I returned Chris and Cory pointed out this big foam core poster disclaimer that with my presence I was apparently “signing off” on. I picked up the poster and checked it out and told them how confident I was that I could one-arm it all the way home. and then they pointed out to me that the reality show guy was right there watching me. Then we proceeded to take a few more photos with his disclaimer poster in descending levels of tastefulness. I told the guy at least once not to take it personally. Our actions were directed at “the man” not at him personally. We chased him off in about 7 minutes…but he most likely returned, when we left, so he could get a more receptive Belltown upwardly mobile reality TV crowd.

I'm withholding the other photos at this time because it’s in everybody’s best interest.

Landis, Basso, Hamilton...and all the re-absorbed unborn twins and shots of Jack... 

Let's take a moment and not focus on doping dopers and focus on DiLuca's mangina.  

My body is a temple... 

Inconsistently consistent.

Consistently inconsistent.

The end result, the bottom line, the sum total, the mean, the median, the average, the truth of the matter is the situation for all intents and purposes is the same. Same Same. Same as it ever was. One minus zero is one. Zero plus one is one. Are you with me? No matter how you slice it...

We're only making plans for Nigel

Why do some drivers with bikes on the rack still have no clue how to share the road with a cyclist? Maybe it’s because they drive their bikes to a bike path and ride around for 15 minutes, then put the bike back on the car and drive home.

I have a great deal of respect for cars from the 60’s and 70’s that are obviously being driven by the original owner. I will gladly share the road with these drivers because they’ve earned it and they don’t see me anyway.

I have no respect for Mini Coopers, Armored Trucks, German sedans full of frat boys and people who failed Driver’s Ed but their parents bought them a car so they’re driving. I respect the fact that they could easily kill me on my bike, but I do not respect them as drivers.

 Matt Case's bike. It was racked, then it fell off and got wrecked.

sing it with me. If you're having trouble here's some ideal music

Who can take a package,
Knowing when it‘s due?
Shred traffic and make a miracle or two…
The messenger, the messenger can,
The messenger can 'cause she mixes it with sweat
and makes the world smell good…

Who can take a chamois,
Wear it for a week?
Then pull it out next Monday and turn the other cheek…
The messenger? The messenger can…
The messenger can 'cause he mixes it with sweat
and makes the world smell good…


Who can take tomorrow,
Dip it in a beer?
Separate the bullshit and be perfectly clear,
The messenger? The messenger can, the messenger can…
The messenger can 'cause he mixes it with sweat
and makes the world smell good…
And the world smells good
'cause the messenger thinks it should…

The messenger earns
everything she makes
Eating and eating, riding bikes
Talk about your childhood wishes

some messengers drink like fishes

###

would you like cheese with that?

we've been feeling some growing pains lately...working in the coal mine. When I say feeling it, I mean really feeling it. Feeling plenty of pains but no growth. Where's the growth. Show me the money.

But what I hear you saying is, "have another beer...and just ignore it. It'll go away" There's a big payoff somewhere down the road for somebody else. whatever. Alan Thicke creeps me out.

Riding out. Get to where you're going. Then turn around and come back. There's a unique satisfaction to retracing your route and completing the round trip. Right back where you started from. Same line, different direction. Things look a little different when you hit it from the back side. You can always make a loop out of it and get a change of scenery. Or just start taking left turns and see what happens.

Maybe you're already part of my rhizomatic network and you don't even know it. Or maybe I'm part of yours and I just figured it out. This is a great article in today's NY Times Magazine. If you spend some time on-line, and I'm guessing you do...it's interesting. Round and round.

On the elevator at 4:10pm, thumbing through the stack of work in my bag. I had 15 King County filings, two of them monetary. No big deal. But I was going to wait for one more that wasn’t ready yet. A guy got on. I never looked up from my bag.

     He said, “what kind of bike do you ride?” and I said,

     “today, I’m riding a Bridgestone” then I looked him in the eye

     “oh, does it have gears?” as if he was doing his own little survey of messengers he was able to corner in elevators.

     “yes, seven in the back, one up front” then I said “do you own a German bird dog?” and he looked stunned and confused

     “no”

     “oh, I must’ve mistaken you for someone else”  still staring him in the eye, then he says

     “yes, yes I do. Yes”

     “yeah I used to live on North Capitol Hill by the park and I’d see you walking your dog every morning”  Those German wire hair pointers will go for a tennis ball all day long.

We're not all just antisocial drunk bike geek drug addicts. That smelly messenger on the elevator that's bringing you a subpoena just might have a college degree.

Jeff (that's  Mr. Jeffrey L. Kidder to you) who's leaving ABC soon, has a Masters Degree and is well on his way to getting his PhD.  Read some of his work here  

The days are getting longer. The shorts are getting shorter  

Seattle is a whole new world when the sun comes out.

There is nothing like pulling out a pair of shorts you haven't worn since September and finding some money in the pocket.

How many skull tattoos do you have?

10,000 registered riders. A few thousand poachers. Several thousand support staff. At least 250 guys just working on the kybos. Truck drivers. Bystanders. Onlookers. Sandbaggers. All that, all those people and I still got in the top 20 photos googled for RAGBRAI images with this here photo. It's a small world after all, it's a small small world. They had really cold beer...

Just a couple more months and it'll go 'round again.  

When you see me wearing these shorts and rolling this top tube pad, you won't be able to stop yourself from singing Sound of Music songs. Because when you know the notes to sing you can sing most anything. Let me remind you that Cory makes fine toptube pads, accessories and excellent messenger bags. You can find him in Seattle. M39, Steve Young, Dank Bags...whatever it takes. Money talks.

It looks like we're on the deck next to the pool at the Best Western in Reno between sessions at the "how to make money on eBay" conference.

But the truth is, we're bike messengers in Seattle sitting on the back side of 1301 having a little RV and waiting for the dust to settle, the smoke to clear, the shit to hit the fan. It did, it did and it did. 

The chairs and table are bolted down, right down through that weather resistant carpet that seems to magnify the sun. It was 20 degrees warmer up there on deck.

The sun came out today.

Is this the life or what?

Perhaps the highest Prize-to-Racer ratio ever in the history of bike racing. Not only did each racer get a prize, they each got four or five prizes. I had no camera but everyone else did and maybe I can link you to their photos. good show.

 Check out Brujo’s photos of the festivities 

This afternoon, I pulled my camera out of my bag for the first time in days and got a lucky shot of KNR Jr in flight as he ran the light and merged into traffic on Elliott West, which is like merging onto I-5, into cars and trucks speeding on surface streets. It's an eye opener to get buzzed by a dump truck going 50mph.

yesterday at the very end of the day I got a box job due in 10 minutes, which was no big deal because it was only going three blocks away and I didn't give it a second thought...until I got across the street and dropped it. It did a slow motion flip off my handlebars and landed on its top safely keeping the contents inside and in order, which is good because the box contained about 4000 pages of very important legal documents stacked up with nothing holding them together but their own weight and of course the lid to the box wasn't taped on. For a moment I visualized 4000 pieces of paper blowing around a rain soaked 4th Avenue at 4:52pm. Then I picked up the box put it back on my bars and delivered it.

For those of you who have never riden with box on your handlebars, you can simulate it at home by buying 10 reams of paper and unwrapping them, toss them in a file box, set the lid on the box but do not tape it closed, then ride around your neighborhood in traffic and pretend you're in hurry, and pretend that paper is very important legal documents. Try white-lining, try curb hopping, try talking to your imaginary dispatcher. And pretend you're getting paid  extra for your extra efforts, that's what I do. 

I don’t act this way because I’m a messenger. I’m a messenger because I act this way. Correlation YES. Causation NO. I was an autistic alcoholic artistic cyclist before I was a messenger. Now the same holds true and I’m a messenger but you cannot look at me and generalize about messengers as a group. And you cannot look at messengers as a group and figure me out. You can get pretty close. You can get close enough for government work. You can make your dart stick to the board if you throw it hard enough, but you won’t hit the bull’s-eye with that technique. Close enough may be good enough to get the job done. For all intents and purposes, you know what you need to know. Good enough. Extrapolate. Interpolate. Infer Classify. Label. Pigeon-hole. Stereotype. Predict. Connect. Lump. Group.

I’m a messenger because I ride a bike. I don’t ride a bike because I’m a messenger.
Once again correlation is strong but don’t go reaching for causation.

Do I drink a lot of beer because I’m a messenger…NO. Am I a messenger because I drink a lot of beer…NO, it’s not that either. There is so much correlation here, you can almost taste the causation, but it’s not valid. It would be so easy. It’s so obvious. It’s in your face, but it’s not a causal relationship.

You want some causation, here, here you go: I smell this way because I’m a messenger. My bike is trashed because I’m a messenger. My clothes wear out in certain key areas because I’m a messenger. My right shoulder is lower than my left, because I’m a messenger. I ride in traffic like a messenger because I am a messenger. There you go, there it is, straight up, direct results, causation.

If A then B.

 One of these kids is not like the others, one of these kids is doing his own thing...

But it all depends on what you're looking at. The shoes, the beer, the single malt scotch, the clothes, the hair,  the glasses, the smokes...what are you looking at? 

Ten Years ago this week, I got a job as a bike messenger. I quit that job more than a few times and came back even more than that. Usually I would quit and switch companies or quit and run out of money and come back to the same company. Or quit when they said I couldn’t have a day off, then they’d hire me back the next day. Or quit and try some other manual labor job that makes riding a bike look good. That first messenger gig was going to be a summer job before I went back to grad school and then got a real job. But that summer has lasted ten years.

My friend 09 Dave worked there and told me they were hiring, so I went in. They asked if I had a bike, I said “hell yes, I have a bike…or two” then they pulled out a map of Seattle and read off addresses like 1730 Minor and 401 2nd South and 10 Harrison and asked me to point them out. Then they asked if I could start tomorrow, and I said “hell yes”

I showed up for work and there were two rules: always wear your purple jersey and/or vest and don’t ride on the sidewalk. They gave me a purple jersey and a brick of a radio. And that was it. I was out the door, dispatched a pickup at KIRO going to 1809 7th on a two hour. I was a bike messenger. Cleared that job in 14 minutes and then I got dispatched to pick up a stack of plane tickets from Business Travel NW and spent the next couple hours delivering them one at a time all over Seattle and earning about $6 total.

At Elliott Bay messenger company we had at least 15 riders and 15 drivers on the road. Bucky’s had just as many and often times more riders out there. As always, ABC had a shit load of bikes out there. There were more small legal companies too and more bike messengers in general. Turnover was high and soon I was “promoted” to the 7:30am start time, which was supposed to translate to more money. Actually it translated to working from 7:30 to 5:30 with lunch breaks most days and way too many miles ridden per dollar earned. But I learned a few things about Seattle messenger work and had to make some adjustments when I got an hourly job at a little legal company that took advantage of my work ethic right away and used me to their advantage. They continue to use me to their advantage today, but I’m making a little bit more money.

When I was a rookie I looked at guys like 75 Max and Erik Jahnz and Tim Mason and thought they were crazy and crusty and that they did things that didn’t make any sense. But now I realize they had it all figured out.

I know now what I knew then

yeah, I know now what I knew then

but I didn't know then what I know now

-modest mouse 

the 2nd Annual Chica de Mayo race is this Saturday.

5-5 at 5pm at 2020 Union.

More info to follow

When the NY Times does a story on fixed gear bicycles, it feels like what you might say if you were trying to explain something to your grandparents, something you're familar with, something you take for granted, something that doesn't feel so cutting edge, something you know has been around longer than your grandparents. If you said,

"yeah grandpa, kids these days are riding those bikes on the streets" and grandpa says

"Damn son, I told you my first job when I was 9 years old was delivering telegrams in Chicago and you know what I rode on the street? a bike just like that. One gear. No brakes. So don't go tellin me that's something new"

the audio slide shows are interesting. Unstoppable in today's NY Times

congratulations to Stu. He's moving on after 8+ years at the same little legal messenger company. Straight through without quitting for about 9 years. 9 years of doing everything there was to do at that little company from ride a bike to dispatch to answer the phones to data entry to drive a car to make a Grant County filing.  That's unheard of in the messenger business. Congratulations Stuart.

A few months ago a few of these flashing signs shut down the city of Boston because authorities thought they might have been bombs. They were promotional items for Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Now a few months later a messenger was called to pick up one of the signs and return it to a large law firm, perhaps as an exhibit in an upcoming trial...then the messenger stopped for a moment to pose for a photo then another messenger stepped in for another photo then another messenger put the photo up on line, mocking the overly important serious vitally crucial profit driven justice doled out by the court system run by the frat boy network of large law firms. 

I’ve spoken many times about how messengers are very hard on equipment. Any bike, any bike part, accessories and clothing will all be put to the ultimate test if they go to work full time with a messenger. The bikes and cycling are fairly obvious and technical clothing and accessories are only a half-step away. However, I also believe messengers could be hired on as consultants in a variety of settings. Not only because many messengers don’t hesitate to share their opinions and feelings but because messengers are out there on the streets working in and around all kinds of obstacles every stinking day.

Imagine a messenger brought onto the job site for a day, paid a healthy consulting fee and asked to share his expertise on urinal design, urinal placement, automatic toilet flush mechanisms, stall size, toilet paper dispensers and hand soap choices. Or another messenger brought into an architect’s office to meet with designers about furniture choices for the lobby of a new office tower.

The list goes on. Traffic flow, traffic light timing, traffic mitigation devices, police relations, road construction, food packaging, beverage containers, daily lunch specials, advertising, happy hour menus, elevator design, transfer lobbies, elevator button construction and layout, user friendly architecture, building directories, building security, bike rack design and placement, breath mints, chewing gum, personal hygiene, sports drinks, dehydration, urban density, gentrification, affordable housing and so on and on.

Upon inspection, with some introspection, upon further review,  take a deep breath, put it in perspective, see the big picture, put it in context, take it out of context,  what it comes down to, what it's all about, the bottom line, what we have here is...

a quality of life issue

This is Tyler, he knows.

So gas is $3.50 a gallon...It's twice that in Europe.

Would you pay an $8.00 toll to drive your car into Manhattan? Don't forget you'll pay $30 to park it someplace. Would you pay $16.00 to drive your car into London? Would you pay $30 for an oil change? Would you pay $675 for car insurance? Would you pay $1500 a year for a parking space? Do you have a car so you can drive to your job? Or do you have a job to pay for your car?

I get pissed when I'm caught empty handed and have to cough up $7 at a highend bike shop for a long-valve innertube for my bike. Coughing up huge chunks of money for a car makes me sick. I've recovered from that illness. 

Tell all your friends, place your bids early. I‘m not joking

I put this frame on Craigslist this morning and sold it in less than one hour.

Just recently built up for RAGBRAI I never really rode it much at all. So I made some room in the stable and passed this frame and fork on to someone else because I bought an RB-1 from Todd.

This bike is screaming to ride across Iowa. I finished putting it together this morning and took it for a ride to the grocery store to buy beer. It's solid and ready to work. The Tommasini wanted to sit around and sip espresso all day and was worried about getting her hair messed up, she wasn't too excited about RAGBRAI and seemed a bit worn out. The Bridgestone isn't afraid to get dirty and kick a little ass on some gravel roads or cobblestones or silky smooth Iowa highways or choppy Iowa backroads. 

A saddle with its nose wrapped in tape is a common sight downtown. The first layer starts to peel away from the shell, then the padding is exposed, then it's a messenger saddle. At that point you can tape it up, tear it off, or just ignore it and ride it into the ground. When I see $400 carbon rail carbon seats in bike catalogs I laugh. I visualize one on my work bike and me hopping off and tossing my bike against a building to lock-up and the saddle crunching and grinding on brick walls and bike racks all day. 

I own three Flite saddles and two of them are wrapped in tape. And the third one hasn't started working downtown yet. That's two out of three and will be three in the near future. So, based on me and me alone, I can confidently say that 67% of all messenger owned flite saddles are wrapped in electrical tape.

Nick busted out the duct tape on his saddle. Leland hasn't taped up his Flite yet. Dave did a drastic tear-away on his ABC bike.  Travis used tastfully matching white electrical tape. I trimmed and taped my perforated Flite. and finally, Fever's saddle is a perfect example of riding a piece of equipment into the ground, then continuing to ride it for years after that.

This is a RedKev photo. But I've cropped and tweaked it a bit. 

It's 4-20 dude.

sitting at Monorail with Mike Reilly and Atom...Rachel rolls up and Atom says,

"those pants are so hot, I'd look good in those" and Rachel says

"alright, you wanna trade?" then Atom says

"Hell yes, right here, lets do it"

so they did, right there, on the street. I thought there was no way Atom would fit into Rachel's pants, but he got them on. They were rockstar tight but he got them on. As you can see, Rachel had no problem fitting into Atom's pants.

The Replacements song, waitress in the sky refers to flight attendants. As a variation on that theme I refer to some workers downtown in the same light as I sing quietly to myself throughout the day. For example:

Armored Car Drivers, you aint nothin but rent-a-cop with a gun and big heavy loud truck you can't drive very well and you park anywhere and everywhere without warning and with out fear of any punishment. You suck.

Building Security Staff, you aint nothin but a janitor in an ill-fitting blue blazer and cheap grey slacks and you must be bored out of your mind all day so you find reasons to hassle me. And you in the para-military uniform, you're even worse, You're bored out of your mind too but you're clinging to some image of self-importance in the context of a long painful experience of getting picked on throughout your adolescence, which makes for some interesting confrontations. Yeah well, you aint even a rent-a-cop, you're a janitor too. Keep working on that crossword puzzle.

You have a job to do, although it appears to consist of sweeping up cigarette butts and holding the door for attractive women. I have a job to do too. When you treat me like a professional, I will return that respect. When you go out of your way to hassle me, I'll make an effort to not say anything, the first time and the second, but then I'll share some thoughts with you the third time. Please continue to cling to your image of self-importance because I can't imagine how else you could get through a day of work without it. Just stay out of my face.

Don't get me wrong, there are some very cool security staff members here in Seattle. And like I said, I respect them, because they respect me. And Seattle is one of the easiest cities in the country in which to deliver packages in large office towers. I have heard security horror stories about Chicago, Cleveland and New York. We have it much better than we know we have it. But I still sing to myself.

Craig‘s photo of new Dankerwasser top tubes, in situ.

Take a week off the bike, hang out in California, and you'll feel like jumpin rope.

Like Molly here. Nice shirt. jump jump

Here in Seattle, it's mostly cloudy and 50 degrees for the next 7 to 10 to 30 days.

When Friday the 13th puts Tax Day on a Sunday, anything goes. Using a credit card to payoff the IRS. Using your tax return money to payoff your credit card. Debit. Credit. Whatever. Comes around. Goes around. Another day older and deeper in debt. Happy Tax Day.

I have trouble sitting on my hands, waiting to see what happens. Doing nothing until someone tells me what to do. I’d rather do it now and chill later.  I don’t like to chill for two hours and cook down deadlines to the last minute then ask someone to bail me out because I have six jobs due in 17 minutes and I was holding five of them in my bag all afternoon.  I’m an old man and I don’t need my dispatcher to tell me when my lunch break is over, to hold my hand all day. If I wanted close supervision and coddling I wouldn’t be a messenger.  Proactive feels better than reactive. Learning from past mistakes, remembering what went wrong last time, making minor adjustments to prevent a repeat performance. Simple preparation that takes a minute but saves an hour. Taking an active approach. Taking responsibility. Doing it yourself. Not expecting someone else to do it for you. Awareness of past mistakes and no attempt to correct for them makes me queasy. It’s a tremendous waste of time. I don’t really care if you’re a slacker as long as I’m not picking it up for you. I’m no team player. I’d rather go solo than ask for help. If I know a little heads-up to a coworker will save them a big fucking hassle I’ll share some information with them. Looking down the road seeing two steps ahead, taking an educated guess about what’s going to happen, and making decisions accordingly. As opposed to staring at the ceiling and waiting for shit to blow and then looking for someone to blame.

Riding a bike in traffic in a purpose driven, proactive, even aggressive way is much safer than daydreaming along in traffic aimlessly reacting to outside forces. There is still plenty of reacting going on it’s just more subtle and happens faster, looking two steps ahead, making predictions, acting accordingly. Proactively reacting.

…the status quo sure is great…let’s just stay this way forever, said the small business man.

If a pair of Sidi dominators mated with a pair of flip flops, they'd have a pair of kids that felt a lot like a pair of blue and yellow Sidi Mt Bike shoes from 1994. Many moons ago I was wishing for the best of both worlds, a solid shoe on the bike for riding and a comfortable shoe off the bike for walking. These bright old stock Sidis are perhaps as close as you can get. A good compromise. I got them on eBay a few months ago and finally brought them out into the world this week.

If you know anyone that rides a bike and owns a digital camera, there's a very good chance that you know someone who has taken a picture of their own feet while riding.

can't go over it

can't go under under it

can't go around it

gotta go through it

"did you not see me? or are you just trying to be an asshole?"

said Cory to the busdriver.

That line sums up the life of a cyclist in the city. When I started riding a bike in Seattle I thought everyone saw me all the time and they were just trying to be assholes. I was yelling and waving and getting worked up about a lot of stupid traffic incidents. Now I know that many people don't ever see me and I work with that idea. There are of course a few of them that see me just fine and really are trying to be assholes, and I can work with that idea too. When I need to I can still yell and get worked up in traffic, but I try to save that energy. I can be an asshole... be on my side, I'll be on your side....

How do you get from here to there in 3 minutes? First of all you need some elevator mojo and some traffic cops that pretend to not see you. And then it's white line, yellow line, sidewalk, skywalk, alley, one-way, two-way, wrong way, my way, your way, anyway And once you get to the courthouse, don't fuck it up. That's a Seattle District filing, not a King Superior, and don't take the judge's copies to the mailroom.

Several months ago I noticed a little overspray of paint next to one of the elevators on the 72nd floor of the tallest building West of the Mississippi. Just a little paint that snuck through the masking when they painted the elevator doors and frame. Just a smidge of gold in a vast field of off-white. Or perhaps a titch of harvest  wheat snuck into the ivory cream bone lace cotton natural vanilla field. A splotch. It would catch my eye only when the elevators were a bit slow and I had a moment to stare at nothing in particular. It would catch my eye because I've done my share of painting, residential and commercial. In commercial space all the floors look the same and melt together to the contractors doing the endless repetitive tasks that must be done to complete an office tower or hotel or apartment building. But to the tenants and renters who stare at those walls all day and pay to stare at those walls, god truly is in the details. The devil is in there too.

Several weeks ago I took a post-it note and wrote "touch up" with an arrow and held it in my hand on the way up and almost put it on the wall but I held onto it laughing out loud at the thought. Then the next time I went there I stuck it on the wall next to that overspray next to that elevator on the 72nd floor of that very tall building. Just as I did an attorney from one of the law firms on the floor came out of his office and saw me put something on the wall. He paused and looked at the post-it, at the overspray ( that he had most likely never noticed ) then at me in a double take questioning way thinking maybe I just knocked the note off the wall and I was pausing to replace it, then he got on his elevator down to a double tall non-fat vanilla extra hot no foam.

That post-it stayed there for a few weeks. Until finally it got someone's attention.

I had forgotten about it until today, when I noticed it was gone and the overspray was gone too, touched up, corrected, painted over. Touched Up. My guess is, if a tenant in the building went through the proper channels and placed a work order with the management and requested some paint touch up that small, that tiny, that minor, that insignificant in a 76 story building it wouldn't have been handled any faster than it was when a bike messenger stuck up a post-it note as a joke.

Should we talk about the weather?  

No. No we shouldn't. Today is my Monday.  

That's Jonny Sundt on the right, he's from Okanogan County and a little snow won't slow him down when he's on national television. When is the last time you saw a bike race televised on NBC? Never. But today Jonny was on the screen a few times when he went off the front and attacked in the US Open which took place in Virginia in winter cold weather. Those blue gloves looked good on TV

As the peloton approached Richmond a three-man break opened a small gap - Jonny Sundt (Kelly Benefit Strategies), Eric Boily (Equipe Vallee de L'Aluminium de Vinci) and Christian Valenzuela (Successful Living).

"My legs felt bad, so I attacked," said Sundt. "I'm never one to sit around. It was a circuit that suited me, and I wanted to get to those cobbles first. You look at the kind of crap Americans do to be on TV, singing in front of that critical British guy [on "American Idol"]. All I had to do was attack."

--Neal Rogers 

and Neal Rogers photo from 

-- VeloNews

4-7-7

Out came the sun

and dried up all the rain

and the itsy bitsy commuter

rode her bike again

fair weather commuters, like fair weather fans and fair weather friends are there for you when the going's good, when skies are clear, when the sailing is smooth, when the team is winning. But when the shit goes down they're nowhere to be seen. Can't Truss It. Where were all these suckers in February?

If you want something done right, do it yourself.

If you want something done right, right now call a bike messenger.

Ask Martin Selig. As we discussed here a while back. He's a multi millionaire property owner/developer and an artist. He hangs his own art in his own office buildings, because he can, because he doesn't need to pay no stinking artist to decorate his properties, when he can do it himself. This is Mary in the lobby of 1000 2nd Avenue, helping to put it all in perspective.

same time different day, same day different time,  same line different time, same line different timing on the traffic lights, same time different line, same line different traffic, same line Mariners game, different lines same address, it all pays the same. 

that's not chainlube

and that wasn't a bikeshop

Let's talk about Black and White. Depending on the context it could be the complete absence of color. Or the presence of all colors at once. The complete absence of light or a glorious flood of light. Nothing at all. Or everything at once.

Well what if we talk about the complete absence of any design aesthetic or architectural style. Is the absence of style a style in itself? I'm talking about 2200 6th Avenue, The Denny Building. This thing is crap. It's been at the top of my bad architecture list since I started as a messenger. This is the type of building you'd find in places like Spokane, Des Moines, Lincoln or Boise. Built in the late 60's early 70's seemingly out of asbestos tiles, styrofoam, stucco and whatever pre-fab materials were cheap at the time. It reminds me of florescent lighting and drop ceilings with endless grids of sound absorbing ceiling tiles. It's so high on the crap scale it's an eyesore.

I like simplicity. I like versatility. I like a solid foundation. Form follows function. Everything you need. Nothing you don't. But this building sucks. It makes a brutalist college dormitory on large mid-western rural state university campus look good. The isolation of the underdeveloped Sixth Avenue area really brings out the short comings of this building. Perhaps as condos sprout around it, it will fade into the city. Perhaps it will be torn down and replaced with a Trump Tower.

Here's how Clise Properties puts their spin on it. Get out your checkbook and prepare to rent some commercial space in the beautiful Denny Building? But before you decide on the office space you want, we'll take the janky elevator up to 11 and transfer to one of the smallest jankiest elevators in town and go up to the 12th floor penthouse, let's party like it's 1969. 

and now for something completely different

Check out some photos Craig took

and take a look at Jonny Sundt's friend Hoppy

Brad Lewis Memorial Criterium

Sunday April 8, 2007

A warm cozy seat on the monotone mundane monorail is not too expensive. It's predictable, it's safe, it's neither here nor there. It's OK. It's not too bad. It could be worse. It's nice. It doesn't get very high but it never gets too low either. The views are familiar. It's on schedule, leaving at the same time everyday, going to the same place. A comfortable routine. There's a seat waiting for you if you chose not to get off. Today is my Tuesday. 

You gotta love Chris Horner  

Cory makes some fine toptube pads. Including some limited edition pilderwasser silkscreened units like you see in the photo above. Screened less than an hour ago, some of them are still wet.

Talk to Cory, with cash, up front, because Money Talks.

...fair dinkum

Australian Slang meaning: True, or genuine.  

To the untrained eye, the naive tourist, the nearsighted office worker or the attorney who just can't see the big picture--a group of messengers standing by, might as well be a flock of pigeons eating up some pork fried rice that spilled from a plastic container tossed to the curb from a passing car. They make strange noises, they smell funny, they get in the way, if you get too close some of that filth might get on you, they're annoying, they don't ask for handouts but if you've got some they'll snarf 'em down, they seemingly come out of nowhere and all of a sudden there's a flock of them taking up the sidewalk but then you turn away for a second and they're gone. Messengers and pigeons are part of living in the city. Urban density. If you stick around a while you'll see that messengers are actually a bit more useful than pigeons.

as we discussed earlier, this is not a famous painting, it's bird shit, it's art.  

To anyone who can put a pilderwasser T-shirt on this father figure and snap a good photo and email it to me, I will provide T-shirts for you and your immediate family and a six pack of Milwaukee's Best.

The XXL shirt you wrestle onto daddy in the fountain will most likely be blownout and written off as a loss because you won't have time to get it back off, stretching it over those giant outstretched arms before the cops show up. That is assuming you can even get it on to daddy in the first place with your heart pounding and the fountain getting you soaked in cold water and the massive quantities of beer you consumed slowing your normal cat-like reflexes in a really bad wet t-shirt contest at 3:30am. Maybe I can screen a halter top for him to ease the fitting. If you're interested let me know.

How many Cory Bags (DANK, M39, WWSYD Bags) do you see in this picture? Look closer  

Do you see mini headless Ekimov voodoo doll in the USPS jersey?

Do you see a real camera that uses real film?

Do you see a big fat bouquet of helium balloons walking down the street?

Do you see Seth, Chris, Kevin and Peet?

Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?

oil on canvas, 1897 --Paul Gauguin

Do you ever feel like quitting your job and moving away? Away someplace different someplace warm someplace new and exciting. Paul Gauguin left his career as a stock broker in Paris, left his wife, left his five kids and went to Tahiti to paint full time. I'm not saying that made him happy, because he was an artist struggling with all kinds of things like depression and alcoholism but he did what he needed to do. Where are we going?

This is Bret from Albuquerque wearing a one-of-a-kind pilderwasser track jacket in situ. You don't see murals like that in Seattle.

I have in my hands Issue #19 of THE OUTCAST. I've been exchanging zines and t-shirts with these guys for years. They kick ass in a way that no one else can possibly kick ass. Bikes, single speed bikes, beer, nudity, they have it all figured out. You may not see this zine in your local bike shop so go on-line and buy a copy and a T-shirt and some stickers too. shonky one speed bollocks

If anyone is still in touch with Jeff Nachtigal, please let him know I am taking very good care of the beautiful Assos catalogs that show up once in a while in my building, mailed to his old address, an address that he hasn't resided at for perhaps 10 or more years. Jeff, I appreciate and care for your catalogs as well as or better than anyone else could. If anyone can use these I can.  I even share them with my coworkers.

Team pilderwasser has a bus this year. A bus. Bring us your poor, your tired, your kegs of beer and your money for gas. All roads lead to Grinnell, Iowa. This is not a joke. Talk to Jimbo we're taking applications. I'm talking about RAGBRAI here. We'll have memebers of  the Replacements and Soul Asylum along for the ride with live music on demand and a one time only top secret Husker Du reunion show is in the works. As you can tell, there's a heavy mid-west influence but like I said it's RAGBRAI.

And finally to the voice, the female voice that yelled at me today in the Market "GET HOT ROOKIE" thanks it made me smile. Because I'm not a rookie, I ride as fast as I need to ride and I was already hot, as in pissed off after my second trip to Pier 70 for some bullshit job and riding through the market the wrong way among the tourists it's good to hear a voice of recognition, if not familiar on a personal level, at least familiar with the concept.

The Selle Italia Flite saddle. A classic. It's been around for years and it's got a large following. I consider myself a member of that fan club. Low profile and relatively comfortable with clean simple aggressive lines. Visualize a perforated black Flite. OK now visualize that saddle on my bike locked up outside in the rain on a Saturday night for 12 hours. Oh yeah and by the way it's on my partly cloudy - mostly sunny dry day bike with no fenders. You can almost smell that perforated low profile thirsty little sponge of a saddle out there in the rain standing by. OK now imagine me heading out after the festivities and unlocking my bike for the ride home wearing jeans and cotton boxer shorts. The rain continues to fall buy it's not bad. What is bad is all the standing water on the streets, the water that rockets off the back wheel straight onto my Flite saddle soaked cotton clad ass. Toss is some sand and road grime. This morning I remembered how much I like full fenders. I like my Flite saddle it's not her fault. Next time I'll boyscout it out and maybe cover her in a bag for the long night in the rain and ride one of the bikes with fenders. But a wet ride home to a shower and dry clothes is no problem compared to a wet ride into work followed by 9 more hours of riding in the rain. But that's another story.

Three Piece Vertebrae by Henry Moore 1968. This sculpture is currently owned by the Seattle Art Museum. In 1971 it was purchased by SeaFirst Bank for $165,000 and installed in front of 1001 4th Avenue, the building formerly known as the Seafirst Building. The bank sold it later and then purchased it back for $2,000,000. It's worth way more than that now, and it's on the top-ten list of public art works in town. Here's a very similar Moore sculpture in Israel. 

Today you'll see packs of UW Art History students gathered around it, scribbling in notebooks. Or packs of junior high students climbing all over it like a jungle gym, riding it like a horse, while their teacher looks for a good spot for 34 kids to eat lunch on their field trip. Or clusters of tourists circling it repeatedly looking for the name of the artist. A local seagull hangs out in the water beneath it. And a local woman who dances to her own-some might say crazy drum beats- has been known to remove her shoes and dance in the water as well. That was a day I did not have my camera but it was a great scene. Building security eventually comes out and asks people to get off the thing, the art work, the icon, the sculpture, one of the most expensive jungle gyms in North America.

I'm a big fan of the corner store, the Mom 'n Pop, the little deli, the local bodega, the malt liquor grocery. A 600 square foot retail space with 500 square feet devoted to beer and the remainder to candy and cigarettes. Yeah, they have what I need.

This store however gets my attention because of the simple architecture. Basic, versatile, simple. This building has held a variety of businesses from light industrial to manufacturing to retail to mysterious gay bar to corner store. Much like the building next door, where the new Victrola has opened up. Formerly an auto shop. I like that. 

If you build an IHop it will always look like an IHop. Same goes for Pizza Hut and McDonald's architecture. If you build a simple versatile solid building like this one it will pay off. The hollow thrill of cutting edge technology loses out to the comfort and reliability of proven technology in my book. I'm a Luddite perhaps. You say I sound like a grumpy old man, well maybe you don't know how old I really am.  I'm a realist,  a pragmatist and a pessimist but I know where to get a six pack of tall boys for $3.50. 

I like to take pictures of nouns. People, messengers, buildings, bikes, sculpture, crazy people and piles of empty beer cans. And then some of them make it to this site.

Kevin took some pictures of me like this fine shot below. Look at the two peds in full stride as if they were paid extras and me out of the saddle pretending to grind up Pike Street as if it's a real hill. You can view much more here I hope to repay him someday soon with some photos of my own.

how was your day?

it was beige. It was pedestrian. It was luke warm. It was tepid. It was middle of the road. It was same as it ever was. It was as exciting as 720 3rd Ave. It was beige.

It was sunny and dry and the first day of spring. It was. Three Two One Zero Seven. It was.

I like your word. A neutral khaki tan vanilla word you use to describe someone and it comes out sounding a bit harsh, sort of spicy and colorful and derogatory. I like that.

I like this picture. The 720-915-999 combo in the sunlight. Each individual building is rather hum-drum but the triumvirate has a little texture.  

Here’s to:

Running really fast and not catching your bus

Playing off a giant hole in your pants as if you planned it

Riding like a champ across town on 4 zone ‘teener only to arrive to a fire alarm and no elevators

Busting out a same-day in 3 minutes because you need to use the men’s room

Riding out a flat tire to make court filing because you’re internally motivated

washing down multi vitamins with loads of Cheap beer

Cheap beer

Honest hard work

A well made pair of shoes

wearing the same clothes to work again and again until they fall apart

You lecturing me about how respect has to be earned

Me not giving you any respect

Grande non-fat decaf mocha extra whip

Two Big Macs large fry diet coke

Time trial bike aero bars on high rise stem

Bike rides with friends

Bike rides with hundreds of like-minded friends

Bike rides with tens of thousands of friends across Iowa

Not sweating the small stuff

Getting paid to do what you want to do

Doing what you want to do

You telling them how it is

Get Well Soon Dan

No, I said KBS.

As in KBS/Medifast pro cycling

Prepare yourself for the days ahead...

Jonny Sundt will be passing through. 

As you know, it's hard to drink all night if you start too early.

But you can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning.

wind down, chill out, cool off, ramp up, load up, drink up, smoke up, smoke out, pass out, pass it on.

Cranked Magazine #5 is out, I know it's been out for a couple weeks but I'd like to keep the dream alive.  Check your local bike shop or buy one directly from Cranked There's a great story about Craig Fergeson, I mean Craig Etheridge in this issue.

He who run fast

catch crowded elevator

stop on many floor

He who pause

take half step back

take two leap forward

catch next one

I’m not a bike messenger, I’m an elevator messenger that rides a bike between elevators. At least that’s how it feels sometimes. As a legal messenger spending all day in the core, downtown, in all those tall buildings with lots of windows, you know, the big tall ones, the ones with elevators, banks of elevators, I spend a lot of time pushing buttons.

I do believe there is some strategy and expertise that comes into play when routing yourself in large office buildings with multiple elevator banks. At some buildings I lock up my bike in different spots depending on what floor I’m headed to. And over time you get a feel for the elevators and the office workers and the cattle calls for lunch or packs of jurors heading back to trial at the courthouse after their lunch break.

You can tell the country bumpkins, the out-of-town relatives in for a visit, the contractors, the doctor’s office suckers and the tourists by their elevator mannerisms. Even some of the office workers have distinctive behaviors. For example large government offices and large health care corporations breed herds of slow, slovenly, overweight, especially chatty workers who like to go on a lot of  coffee breaks and bounce between floors. Visualize 700 5th Avenue and 1800 9th Avenue. These two buildings are perfect examples. Slow lazy city workers and slow lazy Regence Blue Shield workers. Elevator rides in these buildings can be painful.

Packs of investment bankers or attorneys on their way to lunch can also be very annoying. Back slapping handshaking chest thumping who’s the man -- you’re the man rituals. Yeah you’re the man, but get out of my face. I have a very large bubble of personal space and cannot stand crowded elevators and people that have no respect for other people’s personal space.  As the weather warms, perhaps the smell of freedom radiating off me will help with this.

In the lobby, going up, the cards are in your hand. You can play the odds depending on the building, the time of day and your destination floor you can gauge the crowd and get on whatever elevator you choose. On the way down, you’re not holding such a good hand, and usually you just have to hop on and deal with it. At lunch time on the 55th floor this can be rough. Or when 6 busses full of school kids are on a field trip to see a real live law firm in the big city and every down elevator that opens contains 19 kids. This happened to me last week at Preston and after passing up three elevators I just barged into the fourth one with two file boxes in my hands and big bag on my back, and somehow those 19 kids made room for me.

A couple weeks ago after a few cups of coffee, I went up to the 22nd floor of the nearest office building to use the men’s room. Then as I pressed the down button to get back to my bike, the fire alarm went off, the elevators shut down and hundreds of office workers poured into the hallways to await further instructions. I stood in that crowded hall for about one minute, then I took the stairs back to the lobby.

Blindly running with your head down, stressed out about the time, jumping on the first elevator that opens.

Or

Walking fast with your eyes open, aware of your deadlines, controlling what is within your control and working the elevators like a pro.

Smoothly flowing smoothness flows smooth.

This morning I got up and took a shower and had a cup of coffee and read my horoscope and it said:

What that says to me is don’t go to work today. So I called in and said “I’m not coming in today, I’ll be in tomorrow”. No bullshit excuses about my car trouble or family matters or sore left hamstring. Just the truth. I’m not going to work.

It’s not that I’m hungover, I am but I have 20 plus years of experience working with hangovers. It’s not that I’m sick, I am but I’ve gone to work countless times with illnesses that would put a normal man in the hospital. It’s not that it’s raining, it is but I live in Seattle and it rains here. What it is, is all in my mind, and like Dan says if you’re a threat to yourself or others it’s time to pull yourself off the street and stay indoors. A rare combination of factors aligned today and there was no way I could ride a bike and deliver very important legal documents.

When you work with a crew of only three bike messengers and one of them calls in sick it makes a difference. Working for commission and being understaffed translates into more money. Fewer people = bigger slices of pie. Working hourly and being understaffed, translates into taking it in the ass.

I felt bad for my co-workers for about 4 seconds then I got over it. Mostly because I have never called in sick. Never. And let me remind you that I’m a bike messenger, an under paid manual laborer. And I have never been late to work and never called in…until today. I don’t mean to dwell of this subject but this is rare in the messenger world. I’m not joking. NEVER.

I’m not going to say I’m sorry, because I’m not. What goes around comes around. I’ve been there. I’ve been there for years. And now finally, today I’m here.

buckets of chicken, boxes of wine, barrels of monkeys, bellies of beer, breakfast of champions, burritos of beef, blankets of malaise, blocks of buildings, building blocks, blossoming bullshit, be careful. Be.

am is are was were can could shall should may might must...be. Be.

On the left Craig Etheridge on the right Frankie Andreu, at the Bike Expo Saturday in the AVA Counterbalance Goldsprints. Craig won.

Here's Craig trying to comfort Frankie: "You want some more Mr. Tour de France? I'll kick your ass as many times as it takes."

Both photos by Brujo

meet the new black

same as the old black

the black T-shirt. Simple, elegant. Elegantly simple. Take it anywhere. Dress it up. Dress it down. Clean your drivetrain with it. Quality. Versatility. Simplicity. Utility. There's a theme here somewhere. Don't get fooled again.

I've got this song stuck in my head. Mary showed me this site, and I like it, I like it a lot. If I had a myspace page you'd be listening to it right now. 

I finally scrapped together the Tommasini. Built up with a mish mash of gently used Shimano bits. Every single part is used except for the chain, bar tape, cables and housing. I created a seven speed cassette out of nine speed cogs and seven speed spacers all on a free-hub body that would accommodate an eight or nine speed cassette but I had a brand new eight speed chain and I have a seven speed shifter. It's a piece of work. Today I took it out for a short jaunt...

and it's speaking to me in clicks, rattles, clunks and ticks. Most of which are not too serious. It doesn't inspire confidence however and does not feel like a solid well built machine. Not yet. It's as if you threw together a bunch of kids from different schools who had never met and asked them to play soccer against an experienced prep school team full of kids that grew up playing soccer together. But as you know the Bad News Bears and the Mighty Ducks come together and triumph in the end. 

I put together a bike full of parts from all over the place that have never met and I expect them to work well together. So now they're just complaining a bit, but they'll work it out.  

Life up here at the 47th parallel gives special meaning and importance to Daylight Savings. Springing forward is a symbolic step towards the time when it really really is "a nice day for a bike ride eh buddy?"  Yeah I know you want my job on a day like this.

There is nearly an eight hour difference in the daylight hours between our winters and our summers. And this little tweak of the clock on this end of that cycle is a reminder of that. In LA or San Diego or Miami or Atlanta losing an hour perhaps is just an annoyance. But for me up here is Seattle it's so much more than that.  

When the highlight of your day is crossing off the date on your desk calendar, or tearing off the page on your Ziggy calendar...maybe it's time to go for a bike ride, get outside, call in sick, or get a new job. The security guard at the Broadacres Building has a large desk calendar and each day is crossed off with a precise diagonal line, drawn with a straight edge, methodically, as if it was on his list of daily responsibilities. As mid month approaches and the tipping point turns, no longer half full but half empty...more and more days crossed off, the calendar takes on a new look. I like calendars but that calendar at that lonely little guard station is symbolic of working in a windowless cubicle. It represents having nothing to look forward to except nothingness. One brief shining moment of being proud of your precision in successfully crossing off 31 days. Only to tear the page off and start over.

some things for your calendar:

Saturday March 10 Gold Sprints go kick Frankie Andreu's ass at the Bike Expo

Friday March 16 the office chair races

Saturday March 24 Tape Worm TT

Saturday March 31 Too Much Scotty   in PDX

raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. coffee cups and muffins. elevator buttons and security guards. plush men's rooms with shoe polish and mouthwash. blownout Carhartts and asspocket U-locks. banana peels and orange peels.candy bars and gum wrappers. burritos and chili dogs. pedestrians and bus drivers. cab drivers and pedestrians. cops and cops. Police and the fuzz. Jonny Law and the five-oh. free food and cheap drinks. Mom & Pop stores holding on in the core. Service with a smile. Tall drip coffee no room no bullshit. Friendly receptionists. A well inked rubber stamp.  A direct question, a direct response. A quiet drive train. a well oiled machine. Competence, experience, confidence, respect. Getting what I paid for. Getting paid what I worked for.  Red lights that even the playing field, ie "I'll see you at the next intersection asshole" bike racks and bus stops. white shoes before Memorial Day. Dispatchers with issues. POD copy received signature round trip dedicated rushes. Are you a messenger? Do you know where the market is? Today is my Tuesday.  silver-white winters that melt into spring...these are a few of my favorite things. 

RAGBRAI and old school buses go together like beans and rice, like beer and bicycles, like Hall & Oats.

Get yourself to Grinnell, Iowa and get on to the bus. Bring your bike, plenty of gas money and lots of beer money.

As we speak team officials are working on the purchase of a bus. A team bus. More information soon. 

SWOBO has been onto something for years... High quality clothing and bike lifestyle accessories. Now they're onto something else, something I like to call utility cycling. Swobo is selling complete bikes Single speed coaster brake, a three speed internal and a fixed gear. Folsom, Otis and Sanchez. Perhaps the coolest names for bikes ever, names so cool, I would give them to my cats

Simplicity, durability, versatility all without sacrificing style. Urban cycling. Utility cycling.Where have you heard that before? If you're reading this I don't have to tell you again. 

I believe that messengers and other urban errand running cyclists have been riding bikes like this for a long long time. But now they don't have to strip down an old road bike or build up an old track bike. They can buy one complete from my friends at SWOBO.

Once again it all comes down to the bottom bracket. I went into my local bike shop, or actually my local permanent rummage sale that specializes in used bike parts and asked the proprietor for a 70 -118 -Italian threaded bottom bracket and he laughed and said,

"hah, good luck finding one of those, shit, you should choke your chicken while you're at it because you'll be looking so long you might as well enjoy yourself."

and I said, "uhhhhh, OK, alright thanks"

then I went to an established bike shop and not only did they have one in stock, they had five. So I bought one for my Tommasini  so I can finally piece it togehter and one for Justin too for his DeRosa, because you don't see those bottom brackets everyday.

Larry says some people are just born with the "wheelie gene". And I agree. Jason has is. Floyd Landis has it. Robbie McEwen has it and I have a strong feeling that Jonny Sundt has it. I do not have it.

This photo is Jason rolling a one handed rubber-booted totally chill wheelie all the way down the block...if I knew what I was doing you could click on the photo and see the video, but I don't, so just visualize it. It's genetic, no wheelie it is.

in a rare spell of preventative bike maintenance, this morning I removed my bottom bracket and cleaned it up and put it back in, rotated my chainring 72 degrees to even its wear, lubed my brake cables and cleaned three months worth of road grime off my frame. When I loosened the axle nuts on the rear wheel and pulled it out of the dropouts, both lock nuts fell off and hit the ground in four pieces, broken clean through. One of them was obviously broken for a while because there was plenty of rust on the exposed metal of the crack. I think the trauma to the nuts occurred one day a few weeks ago when my rear wheel slipped in the dropouts, pulled way off center on my way to King County at 4:22pm. The wheel was slammed against the non-drive side brake pad and it was like riding up a steep hill with the brakes on but I didn't have time to fix anything so I hammered through it all the way from 701 Pike to the courthouse. I'm guessing that's when I broke one of the lock nuts...

I am very lucky. Three weeks worth of Luck. Lucky I wasn't fixing a flat yesterday in the rain, dropping both broken lock nuts in the gutter outside 216 1st South when I pulled the wheel out, calling my dispatcher and walking up 1st Avenue to Mobius or Elliot Bay looking for some new nuts. Lucky. 

Having a great time...wish I was there. Brandon went, check out his photos

Utility Cycling is everything you need and nothing you don't. No bullshit. No frills. No fluff. Get the job done. The more you talk about it the more obvious it is you don't know what you're talking about. So shut up and work. That's utility cycling. The amount of shit talking you do about work is a very good indicator of how much work you actually do.

Jason is a member of the flat-bar tribe. He knows, he is well aware of the margins of utility. This is his bike outside the courthouse today. This is a bike I would be proud to own. Solid. Nothing more. Nothing less. Surly and the drunkards behind the product, they know what's up. No bullshit.

yesterday I had a couple beers after work, then I met Cory at the Six Arms and had a sandwich and couple beers, then on the way home Nick stopped me on Pine Street and bought me a beer at Linda's. And then later that evening, I thought about laying off the sauce, taking a break, maybe a change of routine.

Yeah I thought about it. It's the thought that counts.

today I had a couple beers after work. then I went to the Spitfire with Dan and had an appetizer and a couple beers. Then I went home. Same as it ever was. same as it ever was.  

Ceramic Ball Bearings. The smoothest of the smooth. High end hubs rolling on ceramic bearings, rolling and rolling and rolling. When I think of ceramics I think of Junior High art project ash trays or pottery wheels and touchy-feely community center art instructors with overcrowded kilns. I don’t think of really expensive bike parts. But ceramic bearings are the best. They’re smooth, hard, round, corrosion resistant and heat resistant. And I'm not just talking about bike parts. Ceramic bearings are everywhere, in all kinds of machinery, engines, weapons and space craft.

Sphericity is a measure of how spherical an object is. Ball bearings come in different grades. Measured in millionths of an inch. The lower the number the higher the quality, the higher the roundness, the greater the sphericity. A 25 ball bearing is sweet, really really spherical and durable, within 25 millionths of an inch of being a perfect sphere. A 1000 ball bearing is cheap, round enough, but a lower quality, perhaps softer metal. Ceramic bearings are very high grade, low number, hard, smooth and round. But it’s not as if you could reach into a bucket and pull out a handful of bearings and sort out the 25s from the 1000s just by looking at them. I like ball bearings but I think I like words like sphericity even more.

Fecundity is the ability to produce offspring, or creative productivity. For some reason sphericity brings fecundity to mind, at least to my mind. The connection, the correlation, the explanation is up to you. A lot of words, words you don't use everyday, you can take a stab at and come within a half mile of their actual meaning even with out acknowledging the Latin roots. But some words are just out there. Word.

visualize a beautiful ball bearing blossom in full fragrant bloom, just oozing high grade bearings. High sphericity and fecundity in one pretty picture.

Felicity she really brings it all together. I like Felicity even more than sphericity. word.

P.S. lubricate frozen nipples.

taken out of context certain phrases can take on new meaning. And it doesn't take a bored bike mechanic to illustrate this concept.

Register now. the price is going up March 15 and up again after that and up again if you wait until you show up in SF in May. And paying in advance helps the organizers get organized. It's for a good cause, a good show, a good party       San Franfuckingcisco

It's pretty dumb to steal something off a messenger's bike, in the core, during working hours. It's even dumber to show up later sporting that something on your bike and ride through the core during working hours.

Almost two weeks ago, Justin's top tube pad was stolen. This is a pad that I silkscreened and then Cory constructed it. There is only one like it and it's distinctive.

Justin recovered it this morning from a dumbass who had it on his bike and was riding up the sidewalk on 5th Avenue. I'll let Justin tell you the full story, but it proves the power of communication, direct connect and an alert collective set of eyes all over town. Cory and Rachel spotted the perp and alerted Justin and a short time later he got his pad back.

I live simply so that others can simply stay out of my face

nothing says--February in Seattle--like Mudhoney turned up to 11

nice day for a bike ride

The health of the local economy can be judged by the amount of new construction taking place. Not just permits being requested but ground being broken. The city of Seattle has plenty of construction projects going on as we speak. New condos, office towers, retail space, retirement communities, hotels and more, much much more. When all this construction takes place the roads often need to be torn up as utilities are retrofitted or installed or repaired. Contractors are brought in from all over, Snohomish County, Pierce County, Skagit County even. They do all kinds of stuff behind the scenes, under the surface, deep down. But they also set up lots and lots of orange cones and arrows and signs. And they pay off-duty cops time 'n a half to stand around among the cones and give you the stink eye or wave their hands once in a while. I like to weave through these cones like an elementary school kid at a bike rodeo...

when there isn't much traffic you can take them slow and wide and weave through every one. You can even try it no- handed and just twitch your hips to make the turns. When traffic is heavy you can still weave through a couple cones and just that will bring a smile to my face. It's also a nice change of scenery, an eye opener.  and you really appreciate the open roads when the long construction projects are over. 

Sold 2-26-7

thanks Craig. craigslist didn't sell it for me, but I sold it to Craig. 

the equilibrium is back. the force is restored. all is well. the Tommasini can get some attention now.

ones, threes, fives

Office Chair Races

Friday March 16, 2007 

in the Cascade Neighborhood

Please bring more office chairs, and ask PJ for the details

you think you might want to be a messenger. It's all just hangin out, drinking coffee, lampin, chillin, hitting on the hottest receptionists...successfully, posting up, frontin, hangin out a little bit more, drinking a bit more coffee, hitting on the hottest baristas...successfully... Bust out a couple jobs here and there and the money just rolls in. Chillow Mode. Riding the coffee--beer continuum around all smooth and silky like until quiting time...and then

and then you hit the bars and women just throw themselves at you. the bartenders just give you free beer and you just bask in the glory, the glory of being a bike messenger. It's all about the look, not the feel, not the smell. No worries. It's all good bro, check it out.

PS:

Kevin knows his shit. A link on Drunk Cyclist is worth a thousand hits.  

Yesterday I went to the King County Courthouse with a stack of jobs. Filings, copies for the judge, arbitration, family law, the Sheriff’s office, County Council, the Prosecutor, a research job and a big fat stack of documents to record at the Auditor’s office. When you see a messenger perhaps you think they just dart in and out of traffic all day, smoke pot, talk about bikes and think about what tattoo they want to get next. But some of those messengers have to pay attention to lots of little legal bullshit details. And on that run yesterday my mind was full of legal bullshit. I did all the routine filings and deliveries then I dove into the research job.

A very large law firm wanted copies of two documents from a 17 year old probate case. Even after you die the lawyers are still juicing you, 17 years later, somebody is paying for it. The case was archived…old school, olde skool, which adds some time to the search process. I found one of the documents but the other one they asked for was not there, or at least not under the name they were using. So I printed out the first document as well as the docket sheet so the secretary at the law firm could get a look at it and then be a little more specific. When she knew what she wanted we could then go back and finish the job. The messenger slip had $10 in cash attached to pay for the copies and at that point the cost was $3. So I clipped the $7 change to the job and moved on to the auditor.

Another small law firm that seemingly only works with probate cases--more dead people, once again families of dead people getting juiced by the attorneys--had a bunch of stuff to record with the auditor like a death certificate, a will, power of attorney, blah blah blah. After waiting in line for 12 minutes, then waiting for the clerk to sort it all out, the check was a dollar short. Their check was for $172 and they needed one more dollar. At that point I was in too deep, too much was invested, to have the clerk reject it over one lousy dollar. So I pulled a dollar off the other law firm’s job and covered the costs. We call it a cash advance. The law firm is billed for the cash we front plus the vig, the cash advance fee, the juice. Yeah we’ll cover you, but it’s going to cost you. It’s a win win situation for everyone but me and usually ends up being cheaper for them. Cheaper than a rejected job and return to the firm and then a second attempt. But I don’t like cash advances because it’s my money, my coffee money, my lunch money, my beer money. And when I pay a dollar for a client on a job, it’s a pain in the ass to try to get a dollar out of my boss to pay me back. When I pay eight or ten dollars for a client and my boss pays me back with a check…that sucks. A check for $8 won’t buy me lunch and my bank charges me to cash a check.

So about 5 hours later in the day that research job ended up back in my hands. The secretary finally knew what she wanted. So I went back to the courthouse and copied the second document. At that point the total cost for the copies was $3.50. So the huge law firm should have gotten their documents and $6.50 in cash as well as an invoice for about $50. Paying a dollar per minute for courthouse research and $10 for the two trips it took to complete the job. What they did get back was their documents, $5 in cash and the invoice.

I don’t want you to think that I just did this little shuffle without thinking about it, or that I took it lightly. I take very good notes on my jobs and keep track of things. I gave it some thought. The thing is I just didn’t tell anyone about it. I would much rather cough up their dollar, instead of my own. One dollar is sixty seven percent of a double short Americano. My company got their vig, the little probate law firm got their documents recorded, the big law firm got excellent efficient service from an experienced courthouse researcher and some handholding from our messenger company‘s office staff, but they got shorted $1.50 of their goddamn petty cash. $1 for the other firm’s job and the stupid fifty cents I tossed in my bag because it’s hard to staple two quarters to the messenger slip.

A very short time after the research job was returned to the huge law firm, the secretary called my office manager and complained that she was short $1.50. The $50.00 cost for the research job was no problem, not an issue. The shortchange on the petty cash was a problem. So the office manager called me and asked me what happened. I told him the story and told him to tell the secretary she can reach into my pocket and get the 50 cents back but the dollar went to another firm’s job.

My boss ended up reaching into his pocket. He put the buck-fifty in cash into an envelope and had another messenger rush it out to the secretary.

I’m talking about one of the largest law firms on the West coast. I’m talking about attorney’s billable hours clocking in at $400 per hour, broken down into 8 minute chunks. I’m talking about $750,000 settlement checks. I’m talking about property taxes that are 15 times higher than my annual income. Lunch with client $286. Seahawks box seats $875. Company picnic $22,000. First class flight to DC to meet with senator $1200. All of that is no problem. But when the stinky little bike messenger shorts us $1.50. One dollar and fifty cents. That’s gonna be a problem.

I saw a sweet Lemond locked up outside the Buenos Aires Grill a couple hours ago and it just had a little coil lock on it and it probably retails for more than I make in two months.  This bike here is the Buenos Aires model, because Greg has a soft spot for the city,  and I think that's cool, but the bike I saw was a few notches above this one...it's a small world after all, it's a small small world

Is this Heaven?

No, it's Iowa.

Oh, Oh yeah, is this that RAGRIDE thing?

No, not yet, RAGBRAI is in July.

OK, OK then what's going on, where am I?

You're a messenger in Seattle and apparently you've been drinking

that was then

this is now

The IRS offers an "alternative fuel tax credit" to owners of hybrid vehicles or other more efficiently fueled cars. Be sure to attach form 8910 to your return.

But guess what Mr. Tax man my vehicle runs on Peanut Butter Sandwiches, potato salad and beer. The most efficient vehicle ever invented. A bowl of rice goes for miles. A snickers bar is good for an hour. A person on a bike burns 35 calories per "passenger mile" while a car burns about 1800. Clean burning, quiet, small, low impact in more ways than one and economical...the bicycle. How about a little something for the little guy?

We're all just riding in circles on the coffee---beer continuum. Each of us holding down different spots, gravitating to our own preferences, depending on the time of day or the situation at hand. Like Patrick here. Even Jonny Sundt rides it. His line is a bit different from most, but he's still on the continuum. What time is it? Where am I? I'm thirsty.  

before

after

Today at the bike swap I spent about 30 minutes and all of my money. But I walked away with almost everything I needed for this road bike I'm building up. Sturdy old Shimano 600 was the theme of the day. Now I 'm only a few parts short of a group, but I'll continue to be a few bricks short of a load. Even if I had unlimited funds I don't think I would have found the matching brake levers or a beautiful aero tapered 600 seatpost in a 27.0. But I did find a wheel set with 600 hubs on Open Pros, 175mm 600 cranks and rings in excellent shape, rear derailleur, 600 calipers a dual pivot set and a set of single pivots, and another rear wheel with a 600 hub on Mavic. With a few more relatively small bits I'll have myself a real bicycle with gears. I got at least 67% more product than I would have gotten on eBay sans shipping costs and auction headaches.

I also got the official guide to the 1986 Coors Classic for $2. It's priceless in my book, featuring great photos of Hinault and Lemond and some excellent advertising that will come in handy in various out-of-context contexts like this website. I've had a '86 Coors Classic T-shirt for a couple years and four years ago at the bike swap I bought the 1983 Coors Classic program. Now I have a collection.

Next time I take a picture of this bike it won't be so boring because it'll be out on the road and I'll actually be riding it.

check out the new 4-rail CETMArack

"a magical 4130 steel...nearly a pound lighter than the old 6-rail"

How many ways are there to get to 1111? How many new exciting lines, routes, detours?  How many ways are there to get to Foster Pepper? 

I've been to the 34th floor about 17.3 Billion times and counting... 

...Ya just don’t get it, do ya partner?

Yeah maybe I don’t get it. Maybe that’s it. But I made that filing. And just so we’re clear on this: I made it, not because I care about the attorney, or the law firm, or the dispatcher. It’s a challenge, an arbitrary goal, a hill to climb, a hoop to jump through. I’m internally motivated, and arbitrariness motivates me as much as anything. It sure isn’t the money.

Pointing at a pile of horse shit on Fourth Avenue, while loudly exclaiming “horseshit”. that’s what it’s all about. No, really, that's what it's all about.

Sometimes…the poster is better than the original; the trailer is better than the movie; the cover version is better than the real one; the chase, the hunt, the anticipation is better than the score; the assumption is more entertaining than the reality; the gift shop is better than the museum; the memory is more erotic than the truth. Believe the hype.

Yesterday Justin's top-tube pad was stolen from his bike in the core. It's a one-of-a-kind legal advice pad seen here in the photo. I silkscreened it myself and then Cory made it into a toptube pad. If you see it please repo it and return it to its rightful owner and then tell Justin about who had it and he'll take care of the rest.  

workin in coal mine, goin down down...

Yesterday I burned about 12,000 calories at work but only managed to ingest about 8,000. At the end of the day I wasn't thinking clearly or moving very efficiently. By the time I sat down after work,  I could feel my body eating itself. I felt like one of the bike racers in the Triplettes of Belleville with an emaciated upper body and inflated quads. Today I've got nothing to show for my labor but a stack of done jobs, rubber stamped and priced to go back to the clients.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy

don't know much about history, don't know much biology...but I do know a little something about geometry, tube angles, fork rake, chainstay length, toe overlap and building a 46cm frame around 700c wheels. This just might be the cutest little headtube in town. Ask Peet about her bike.

checkout Kevin's videos of Sebastian rolling back into the core from Eastlake.  

I need a few more parts more than a few. But in 160 days this bike will be rolling across Iowa and those two bottle cages will be full of various beverages. I don't even have a seatpost yet. or bars, brakes, wheels or cranks, but I have two bottle cages, at they remind me of RAGBRAI. I don't usually roll with two. Sometimes I have one on my work bike on the seat tube because it'll hold coffee, water, juice or beer and freelocking, it keeps my lock up off my bottom bracket. But two cages says "Iowa in July" 

Yesterday Claire put on a great race, with an extensive list of addresses around Seattle. Each stop was a Matt Case-centric location. Old workplaces, messenger companies and places he used to live...from Beacon Hill to North Gate. And although there was some room for interpretation there was not testosterone fueled rage filled arguments about who came in first or who won or blah blah blah. Everyone got a prize.

Each racer had to get photos from two photobooths around town and turn them in with their manifest. The collection of photos that Clair has is great, and when she combines them and reproduces that montage it'll be a piece of art, Look for it.

I'm hungover...or maybe I'm still drunk.

there was some blood spilled, some sweat perspired and some beer consumed. And some donuts too.

send me photos of those boxers and briefs in action and I'll post them

pilderwasser@msn.com

For lots more photos look at Craig and Matt

 Bikes Beers Boxer Shorts. Fun to be had by all.

Prizes will include one of kind, limited edition, one-off pilderwasser glow-in-the-dark boxer shorts.  

do you know who this is?

do you know who this is?

maybe this will help jog your memory

do you know who this is? She is so Evil  

Hey you wanna go ride bikes?

and we could play with walkie-talkies too...

yeah.

that sounds fun

and we could do it tomorrow too

and the next day

and the next

and for 10 years

and never grow up

yeah

that's Jessica Simpson, the talented actress in Blonde Ambition ...thanks for the link Mary.

It’s not that I have nothing to say. It’s that nothing is coming out. My typewriter ribbon is all dried up and I’m typing away but nothing shows up. Luckily I’m typing on a carbon triplicate form and although the white cover sheet appears to be blank, the yellow and pink copies are coming through loud and clear.But maybe all you can see is that blank white page. When you finally catch a glimpse of the pink or the yellow it might scare you.

If David Byrne can claim to be borderline Asperger‘s then I’ll claim to be over the line, across the border, in another time zone.

Temple Grandin kicks ass.

librarians are hot. So are women that work in bakeries, women in landscaping and women that ride bikes.

Bikes.

thanks for the link  Mr. Matt Case

The Hanson Brothers.

I'm a sports fan. I ride a bike and I read the sports section of the Sunday New York Times way before I'll read the front page or the editorial or anything else. And I'd like to take this moment to wish the Sonics all the best in Oklahoma City. I liked watching the Sonics when Gary Payton was around and I liked Shawn Kemp too. I really liked George Karl and Ackerly was OK. Mr. Starbucks Schultz was a horrible owner and now I just hope they leave town. And I hope they change their name so they're not the Utah Jazz of the 21st Century.  A pro sports team in limbo, changing owners, threatening to change towns always reminds me of Slap Shot. A classic movie. 

Here's a little ditty 'bout lock nut lip clearance.

I've got six bikes now. One of them has a threadless inch 'n an eighth headset much like the one in the picture. One of them has a .833 steer tube, headset and stem combo. The other four bikes have good old dependable one inch threaded headsets. Retainer bearings are a quick, cheap, lazy way to pack a headset. Loose ball bearings are the way to go. Loose Balls are good. I'm not just saying this, it's true. You know those NJS guys sit around all day long and talk shit about sealed bearings, cartridge bearings and threadless headsets. Visualize the NJS committee meetings in a smoky bar and the topics of discussion.

So today I started to scrap together the frame and fork I bought from Chris. He threw in a new headset and mentioned several times that the one in the frame was trashed. With the assistance of my local bike mechanic and his beautiful headset press and crown race removal tools I swapped out the headset. Only to find the stack heights of the two headsets were not even close. Any kid on the street, any one with eyes actually could have just eyeballed the new headset and it's beefy stack height, and told you that the steer tube would not be long enough. But of course I didn't even look at or think about it. I installed the new headset and slapped the fork in, only to come up about 11mm short. At that point I evaluated my options. A new fork. NO. A new headset. Maybe. Put the old one back in and buy some new bearings...Yes. Yes, loose balls. Once again taking advantage of my local bike mechanics tools to remove the new and re-install the old.

Measure twice, cut once.

or

Have a beer, don't measure anything. Slap it in there and see what happens, then work backwards. But I'm proud to say that at least I did not touch a hack saw today and do any permanent damage by hacking up a brand new steer tube, cutting it off 11mm too short. I didn't destroy anything. I was just a bit hasty or maybe I was naively optimistic.

If I was in a band I'd write a song about loose balls and locknut lip clearance. Maybe I'll have to settle for a poem.

I don't feel so good

sometimes 40 hours per week feels like too much.

This week it did.

Today is my Saturday. 

that's not a truing stand, that's art

Hey "art art art" thanks for the locomotion link, it's interesting. I'm responding to your comment here so I can put the link up and people can click on it and read it because sometimes cut 'n paste is too much work and people don't like too much work. 

when Groundhog day falls on a Friday before the Superbowl, and it's a full moon...all signs point to

well I'm not sure what they point to.

not that this photo has anything to do with anything but proximity leads to association and assumptions and error. And I'm a big fan of parallax error, the doppler effect, and reading the meniscus correctly in a graduated cylinder. It's all about what you're looking at, what you're paying attention to, and how you're looking at it. The observer, that's YOU. you are here. I really don't like backseat drivers or watching TV with large groups of people or used car salesmen, but what does that have to do with anything. Put it all in a sentence and let the reader make the connections, the assumptions, the errors. It's all relative. It's up to the observer to take it all in and interpret.

The only thing between me and Pier 70 was a really really long train. The train in the photo. The train that stopped completely for about 10 minutes, then backed up a bit then slowly started rolling. I could have gone back to Pier 66 and over the foot bridge but I didn't. Once the sculpture garden is complete that overpass and stairway will be the ticket.

that's Matt Case in a Raleigh ad you may have seen in a cycling magazine. I'm not making this up, but I do like to make fake ads.  

Why are you a messenger? what are the benefits?

401k? no. not. The money? no, not there.No way. There's way more money in so many other jobs. A stepping stone to bigger and better things? shit. yeah, right if you want to do data entry in a messenger company office or dispatch messengers or answer the phone. Or go to the mailroom of large lawfirm. I wouldn't call any of those bigger or better. Benefits in the traditional sense of the word are non existent.

Fresh air. check. got it. The smell of freedom. Yes. got that too. Rock solid 24 inch quads, got those. The capacity to consume endless calories and burn them off ASAP, got that. The ability to chug a tall boy and eat a jumbo burrito and ride a bike immediately after...yes, yes no problem, I'll take two tall boys.

oh and don't forget, an "intimate" knowledge of the city, a front row seat for the craziness, one shoulder that's three inches lower than the other, a couple bullshit "jaywalking" tickets, and a few boxes full of destroyed bike parts. what's that smell? that's the smell of freedom.

I'm looking for photos of my t-shirts in situ. Like the one of Evil Dave playing softball with a track bike shirt on, that Jenny sent me. Or the ones of Erik Jahnz looking out over the Pacific.

I'm looking forward to photos of Jonny Sundt in a pilderwasser shirt in a bar in SF after a stage of the Tour of Cali. Or in a bar in Atlanta after a stage of the Tour de Georgia. Or a photo of Floyd Landis in one of my shirts in a bar in Vegas while he waits for the dust to clear. And Jan Ulrich would look good in a tricycle shirt.

I'm looking forward to photos of Matt Charnetski in Antarctica wearing a pilderwasser shirt on the ice, the seemingly endless expanse of ice.

email them to me...pilderwasser at em ess enn dot com

think I'll pack it in

and buy a pickup

take it down to LA

 the woman I'm thinking of, she loved me all up

but I'm so down today 

This year's route unveiled. I'll see you in Iowa July 21.

I've never met this guy, apparently he lives in Seattle. I stumbled upon his site. This has to be the most expensive, sweetest, custom made coaster brake bike in this timezone.  word

Fifty five degrees

Raining but my crack is dry

I've got full fenders

--Seattle Haiku, May 2003

I'm a big fan of fenders All my bikes have fender eyelets and clearance for fenders. And half of them have fenders on today.  It does tend to rain in Seattle and even when it's not raining the roads are wet a lot of the time. Deep down inside I think I'm even a bit superstitious about the weather and being prepared for it. The day you take your rear fender off is the day the clouds roll in out of nowhere. And the day you spend 38 minutes adjusting and installing your new full fenders before work in the morning is the day it'll be clear and sunny. The same goes for not wanting to haul your rain jacket around in your bag all day. The weather man knows nothing.

Those little black brackets that go on the front of SKS fender mounts...I used to throw those away. I thought they were a waste and clunky. Then one day while riding through Seattle Center a piece of wood somehow got pulled up under my front fender, wedged in and locked up my wheel. I launched over the handlebars before I even realized what happened. After that I started using those handy SKS quick release clips on the front.

I buy used fenders sometimes at Recycled Cycles. I spray paint the silver ones black. If I find black ones, I usually don't spray paint them silver. I have one rear fender that I bought 10 years ago. It's hanging on by a thread, a zip tie, two kinds of tape and a binder clip. But it's still functional.

I’ve been to Hell. I’ve go there everyday and I’ve figured it out as much as it can be figured out. And now when I’m there and I see lost civilians and I try to point them into the correct line. Or down ‘n out Pro Se defendants, I’ll help them out. Or the lost Fleetfoot messengers like fish out of water, I'll talk to them. But the pompous obviously stinking rich attorneys…I’ll watch them squirm in the wrong line, twice. They should've called a messenger.

PS: set your phone to vibrate

a couple hours after this photo was taken, the bike on the left was stolen. I heard the frame was recovered a short time later, sans wheelset.

Cory wants you all to know that starting February 1, people will be able to load bikes onto Metro buses in the core, in the Ride-Free zone. Which means that all three of these bikes could be loaded onto a bus and taken away, far away before anyone noticed. Bus drivers don't care if the bike appears to be "free locked" they feel put upon anytime someone deploys the bike rack on their bus and they sure won't be able to match the quality of the bike with the quality of the rider and finger an obviously stolen bike. Once that bike leaves the core and the watchful network of messenger eyes and gets unloaded in some quiet residential neighborhood or a park-n-ride in Federal Way, the chances for recovery are slim.

I walked into the bike shop and said

"I need a cartridge bottom bracket 68-110"

and the mechanic said

"wow, you're thinking clearly this morning, if I said 68-110, most people would think I was talking about some roads to get back to Tacoma".

all you bike geeks know 68 is the size of the bottom bracket shell, and 110 is the length of the spindle. Pretty standard, typical, normal, ISO. One reason I sold the Bertin was its French threaded bottom bracket and I prefer Japanese lugged steel to French lugged steel. Four months later I've built up a bike nearly identical to the one I sold Dan but this Univega frame is much much better than the Bertin and if I was going to Tacoma from here I'd take I-5.  

So I got the bottom bracket, the final piece of the puzzle and built up this Univega.

It's a whole lotta lugged Japanese steel. Triple butted chromoly. It's pink and heavy and slow and smooth like the LoveBoat.

the grand opening celebration for the Olympic Sculpture Park is this weekend, it's not quite finished but it's close. This is a work called Father and Son by Louise Bourgeois. Both figures will be in a fountain, however today they are still shrink wrapped in protective plastic and the work continues on the park. "Surrealism and its themes strongly influenced Bourgeois' early work and they inform this fountain..." hey, Louise I like this look, industrial, landscaping, shrink wrapped mummies. "Bourgeois' representation portrays an impossible and poignant situation as the two face each other with arms outstretched, striving to overcome a seemingly insurmountable divide" It won't look like this for long but it did today.

Today I bought an old Univega and I'm building it up as another single speed work bike. I just happened to have a 26.4 seatpost sitting around and almost everything else I need.  Unfortunately I do not have a bottom bracket that fits. It's a seemingly insurmountable divide, but I'll have to wait another day or so and build it up this weekend. 

for you hardcore urban cyclists there is no "off-season". There is no down time, no lull, no ebb and flow, no hardly getting over it, hardly getting used to getting by...because you ride a bike everyday, all year, all the time. But for your local bike shop this is the lean time of year. When paying the rent takes on special meaning. Profit margins are always paper thin in the bike industry but nows the time to really support your local shop. If you're looking at this page, you already know this, but tell your friends or buy your local bike mechanic some beer and some Thai food and offer to take out the trash or sweep the floor or something. You know what I mean.

Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things...

Counterbalance , Recycled , Wright Bros

let's talk about the weather. It's always a safe topic. A dusting of snow in Seattle is big deal. The schools close, the courts open late or shut down, the buses jackknife and block the road. The geography of the city makes snow and ice a big factor. It's not like Chicago or Minneapolis or Des Moines on big flat plane. Seattle is a bunch of hills, steep hills, and snow makes a difference. Add in the fact that none of the drivers know how to drive when it comes down. The city of Seattle has one or two snow plows, they do have a few trucks that can sand and salt the roads but that's it. The Sea-Tac airport may borrow that snow plow for their runways if it actually snows a lot here or they'll just shut down too. About six or seven residents of Seattle own snow shovels, because it doesn't really snow here. But it did last night and it has few times this winter. It has felt like winter here this winter. I can feel it.

What did you do today? Run 5 miles. do some laundry. go grocery shopping. get the tires  on the Volvo rotated. change the filter on the furnace. read the entire NY Times, including the book review. yoga class, followed by another yoga class. coffee with a friend. lunch with family. back country snowshoeing,  dinner with attorney. email final draft of dissertation for review. study for LSAT and MCAT. Volunteer with local homeless shelter. Rake leaves and shovel snow for the old neighbor lady. Adopt two dogs from the pound. Go door to door for city council candidate. Write a letter to editor. See a movie. 

I didn't do any of that...that's why I'm easy ask Skunk, that's her in the picture, she was there. I drank a few beers and watched some football. 

I'm buying on old Tommasini frame & fork from Chris and I'm going to rattle-can it flat black. The flattest of flat blacks. The most radar absorbent, stealthiest of all flat blacks. Can you visualize me diving into this clear coat, those lugs, those Tommasini cutouts with some 120 grit, just to scuff it up a bit, then spraying down with a can or two of Krylon? Don't worry, the frame Chris is unloading onto me is a few rungs down the ladder.

Skunk and Brad sent me to the store this morning to buy cat litter. A necessary chore, but no where near as satisfying as hauling home a case of beer. 20 pounds of cat litter or 20 pounds of beer. Both feel the same on the CETMA rack on the ride home, but each offers my household its own unique qualities. Each pays me back in its own special way.  It's 24 degrees in Seattle, that's cold.

Bikes are for kids. Yeah, that's true, but... 

So you're a dentist, or a doctor, or a CPA, or maybe even a chiropractor or attorney and you have some disposable income and you buy yourself a Harley to ride on sunny weekends in July on Highway 2. You don't know much about the mechanics of it, but you sure like the accessories and you decide you need a kickstand cover, a studded leather kickstand cover so you go on line and look for one...one like this

So you google it. But then you end up on pilderwasser looking at a slideshow of old kickstand covers. Welcome to my site Doctor Rosenrosen, but when I say kickstand covers, I'm talking about a little bike messenger zine from Seattle not that studded leather shit. But good luck to you. 

dig if you will a picture

the sun came out today in Seattle, clear, cold, crisp.

Icy roads everywhere in the Puget Sound area, except downtown Seattle, which was dry and clear, which works for me because I ride a bike in downtown Seattle. I'll take dry and clear and cold and crisp. thank you. thank you very much.

Today I filed a high profile case in King County Superior Court. A case so big that the press conference started before the documents were even filed. The court opend two hours late today because of the weather and the press conference went on without the essential info. The attorney handed me the documents in his office, then followed me to the court house. I beat him there, by about 9 minutes, but he caught up to me as I stood in line. I approached the clerk to file and asked the attorney if he wanted to do it himself and he said "No I'll watch you". He stood next to me and watched me to ensure that the rubber stamps were of the highest quality, and as soon as the cause number and judge were assigned he made a phone call, I finished stamping out the copies and he took it out of my hands. My question is, Why did it get in my hands in the first place? Perhaps because they don't teach you to sling rubber stamps in law school. Leave that to the pros like me. The clerk thought I was training the guy to be a messenger, she laughed when I whispered to her that he's the attorney. And then five hours later, I got copies of the documents back in my hands to serve on the defendant. And I served 'em, completing the circle. I like circles.

if your eyeballs need some protection and or some style try Axley . My promoter, my executive producer, my pro racer friend, Jonny Sundt got me hooked up with Axley. You cannot go wrong here. I am buying what they're selling. Quality. More information to follow as I put them to the ultimate test, the streets of Seattle.

If you live in Seattle, it's hard to tell what time it is or what day it is, in the winter because it all looks the same. But even if you don't live in Seattle you need one of these Calendars Women on bikes. Bikes. Women. Women. Bikes. Once again I am buying what they're selling. check it, out.

Congratulations to Cranked Magazine, they got a blurb in the Utne Reader The most press kickstand ever got was a tiny blurb in The Bicycle Paper in 1999 and a few shout outs from America Meredith in Voice of Da

Could you give me a wish if I tell you want I want

Would the price be no object

-Wishing Well

Bob Mould

I want this bike. I want to ride this bike to the corner store and buy a six pack, or a twelve pack, or both and a bottle of merlot too. I want to ride this bike to work. I want to ride this bike to the dentist.  I want to ride this bike across Iowa. This bike wants me to ride it across Iowa. Look at the Moots seatpost, the Moots stem, the Moots welds. Moots. Moots. Moots

I think I have one more issue of kickstand in me, I think I've had it in me for a long time but it has slowly leaked out into this website which a short time ago was not an option.But because of the multiple slow leaks, I haven't dumped out kickstand for almost a year. Start thinking about your poetry, haiku, photography, art and advertising for one more issue. This could be the last time. No really I mean it this time.

Speaking of advertising, one little "lifestyle sponsorship" check from large beer company or even a local brewery would pay for this website for two years or for a beautiful issue of kickstand. And I'm not talking about a lot of money here. I'm talking less than you'd pay for a quarter page ad in the Stranger or Weekly. Selling out? Whatever. Where do I sign? I've been ready to sell out for years. Bring it. I'll take sponsorship from anyone however I'd prefer to be "buying what they're selling" because I'd have trouble holding back if the money was all coming from a large right wing republican church group or a major automobile manufacturer. For some reason, beer keeps coming to mind. Beer crosses all kinds of party lines and can be non political non denominational non controversial. Beer it's what's for dinner. Tell all your big-wig beer company executive friends I'm seeking sponsorship, here and in kickstand.

YOUR AD HERE.

Last Tuesday I saw a ped get hit in the crosswalk at a very busy intersection in the core. It was 3pm and sometimes in Seattle it’s pretty dark and rainy by then. I don’t think the driver ever saw the guy. A relatively slow collision as the driver was trying to turn right, but still enough to bust the guy up a bit. As the cops arrived on the scene I gave the ped my number and said I’d be a witness. Soon I’ll be contacted by his attorney, then a short time later by the attorneys representing the driver’s insurance company and so on. It may turn into a hassle but I just hope the ped gets his medical bills covered.

Last Wednesday at 1:09pm I was hit in the crosswalk on 4th Ave doing a lazy roll from the courthouse to the admin building. A woman looking to turn right onto James was blocking the crosswalk as she looked to her left for an opening in traffic. I was approaching her on her left with a few peds too, she was looking through me, I guess, as I rolled towards her. Just as I got around her car she hit the gas and hit me. I unclipped my right foot and got it out the way as her bumper was in full contact with my bike. My foot came down on the hood of her car and I put all my weight on it. Standing on her car with my right foot and still clipped in with my left, holding my bike I was spewing random combinations of offensive words and looking at the driver thinking “can you see me now?” At that point she did see me and she had to take a moment to pause in her cell phone conversation and flick the ash from her cigarette.

 As usual, the Bike Swap is on a Sunday before payday. A payday when most of the messengers in Seattle get paid. So plan ahead, put some money in the cookie jar.

but some color schemes do. 

Today I adopted this pair of shoes via eBay. Never worn, with the box. The crazy blue with green and the classic yellow soles. They don't make 'em like they used to. All that set off by the purple, pink and green box atop the simulated wood grain...I got them for a price I was happy with. A win win win win situation. And I will ride them into the ground. Ride them like it's 1994.

Mark,

This bike was stolen recently from my friends garage and recovered less than 24
hours later at recycled cycles. Strangely, almost all the parts had been
switched out in what seems to have been an attempt to make a hipster type fixed
gear. Problem was, the person/people doing the job had very little idea about
bikes and the conversion was unridable. Presumably it was at recycled so that
their pro mechanics could put right the thieves half assed wrench work.
I had built a pretty nice front utility rack for this bike about a year ago and
the thieves had presumably junked it which was a real shame, there were a lot of
labor hours in that rack.
Anyway, my friend asked me to get the bike back on the road so I decided to give
him my interpretation of a useful city utility bike whilst trying to retain much
of its beater appeal.
Originally designed for 27" wheels and caliper brakes I brazed on some canti
studs and installed 700c wheels. This gained the clearance needed for fenders
and a chubbier (700 x 32c) tire. An old (but excellent condition) Suntour 14 -
34 five speed freewheel in a half step plus granny drivetrain gives a dishless
rear wheel and a good spread of closely spaced ratios for hauling groceries and
kids. Priest bars, bar end shifters, an old Tioga Tbone steel mtb stem, Brooks
saddle and the front cro-moly steel rack (finished in rustoleum, of course)
finish it all off. 
I'm really happy with how it came out. The only thing that would have made it
sweeter would be if I could have been there when the bike thief came back to the
bike shop to pick up his repair.

Alistair.

more photos from Alistair

That's a shame they trashed that beautiful front rack. But it's great the bike was recovered. Many bike thieves are incredibly stupid. Stealing a bike and taking it into Recycled Cycles the same day for repairs because you're such a lame mechanic you can't even build up a hipster single speed...that's funny. I hope you can at least go back and get a good story from the mechanics about the look on hipster thief's face when he came back for your friend's bike.

Which reminds me, PJ's SyCip was stolen a couple weeks ago in Belltown. It's a very distinctive frame, compact geometry, fixed gear, and no matter what color they spray paint it, it will be recognized. Look for it. This is a photo from a few months ago...but that frame is not something you see everyday...look for it. 

Mr. Brandon Lockwood sent me this link. Thanks Brandon. I do appreciate the beauty and utility of this bike. Cheers. 

context 

The last thing I want to do after a long day of riding in the rain is work on my bike . That's why, when I get home I toss it in the stand and mention to Brad and Skunk the issues I had with the bike during the day. Then I crack a beer and sit back and relax while they give it the once over and make the necessary repairs. Every once in a while they call me in to turn a wrench or torque a bolt, because they don't have any hands.

This is Brad about 20 minutes ago, turning away in disgust. He said take a picture it lasts longer. He was raised on square taper bottom brackets and cranks and is not impressed with these splined Ritchey cranks. The drive-side crank bolt works itself loose every few days or so and is rather annoying. The bottom bracket and cranks are the heart and soul of the bike and need to be dependable. Brad suggested some form of loc-tite and walked away, leaving it up to me. Skunk didn't even attend this session. I explained to Brad that I got the cranks free at the messenger bike swap from 32 Rob, and free is a good price, but Brad doesn't care because he doesn't know what money is.

P.S. 1-3-7

Lots of crazy people have cats. But does having a cat make you crazy?

Correlation Yes. Hell YES . Causation, I don't think so. maybe

 I'm more concerned about my crank bolts.

That's Brad and Skunk about 10 years ago with one of their first bikes. I got them from a kid at the school where I worked, I placed them in a backpack and rode my bike home that day, stopping a few times along the way to look at them. They've been around bikes their whole lives. Now when I grab the floor pump to top off my tires Skunk starts her shaky chattery cry. She doesn't like the hiss of high pressure tires when I pull the pump off the valve. 

 Today they're both professional hair farmers and utility cycling enthusiasts. They know how to fix a flat, how to swap out cartridge bottom brackets and how to lube the drive train. They leave the other stuff to me. They had an aluminum bike once. Then it was steel, all steel. Brad weighs 20 pounds and Skunk weighs in at 15 (Skunk is a girl) That's bulk, and I don't think they'd like to go for bike ride in my backpack now.