Happy New Year

This New Year starts off all old and crusty.  It’s like I got rum-drunk in a shrimp shack full of drifters and fisherman, stumbled to the beach, folded out my broken Corona beach chair and passed out.  When I woke up with sand in my crack and the sun in my bloodshot eyes it was 2013.  Who’s ready to party?  In actuality, the last days of my 2012 were spent in similar fashion, albeit a little more responsibly.  I did hang out in seaside tiki huts.  I did eat copious amounts of fresh shrimp, washed down with Budweiser.  I even met some fisherman.  In fact I enjoyed one of the best Christmas days in memory.  It consisted of sitting on the beach in the Florida keys with my closest family, sipping down watery beverages, swimming in salty water, staring at girls in bikinis (some not so nice), and eating the freshest seafood that money can buy.  In fact, the only way it could have been any fresher would be to personally kill the fish with my own teeth.   But large grouper are scary looking, so I’ll let someone else do the killing. 

  

It's good to be King.

Then I came back to Colorado, where it’s cold and crusty.  Nothing moves very fast.  The thought of riding in this environment, after running half-naked next to the ocean only days beforehand, is hard to grasp.  Along with my unwillingness to brave these conditions and disdain for them, it goes that I’ve been singlespeedless for almost three months now.  The real crustiness of this New Year was hanging on my wall; a beaten down and broken bike frame that had served most of my purposes in the last couple of years.  So upon my arrival in this frozen tundra, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  Armed with a hack saw and the desire to put this piece of steel in its final resting place, I went to town.  On a less dramatic note, to be able to get a new Niner frame at a discounted price, what they call a “crash-replacement” (not sure how this applies considering the absence of any crash in my situation), they make sure you thoroughly destroy your frame by cutting the bottom bracket out.  I could have used a power tool for the job.  But I felt it was my duty to put some blood and sweat into killing this machine that endured my constant abuse for so long; a last hurrah. 

So at some point in the next couple of weeks I should be seeing a brand spankin’ new fresh as frozen fruit sparkly hand-robot-welded-Taiwanese-made bicycle frame show up, in all its mass-produced yet still considered “small-box” glory, with full singlespeed capability.  It will undoubtedly be an upgrade from the old SIR9.  Although not their top-of-the-line crabon fibre model, it will still be a whole lot lighter, stiffer and more race-worthy than Old Golddy.

I am also awaiting the arrival of, or word of, or even half-brained ideas on my custom Generic Cycles titanium hardtail.  The builder has been less than responsive about its creation or any other details.  You could say that he’s been completely unresponsive, but I’ll cut him some slack.  He does build bikes for an awesome brewery up the road from me, and with that he stays in good faith.  That being said, parts are starting to arrive for this build.  Parts that, aside from a completely custom hand-built titanium frame, I cannot wait to try out.

Next up, the tingle that goes down my spine when I think of riding in Moab and Sedona; and on  a bike capable of such.  These are not places that were designed, through millions of years of volcanic activity, wind and water erosion and the harsh desert, for a hardtail race bike.  No sir.  To fully enjoy the fruits of our earth’s labor, one must be on a machine of squishy forgiveness.  The same reason you let your wife get fat.  So in addition to prepping new builds for the upcoming season, I’ve also got my eye on some fun-candy.  The race bikes are that apple you got on Halloween.  What I’m spying is the full Snicker’s bar.  Tell me which neighbor you liked better?  

And when not drinking beer, in preparation for the upcoming season, one can always find solace in a 35 pound bucket of peanut butter, in all its creamy goodness. 

I'm going in!

Happy New Year!