My New Look

I have a friend, Johnny Atmos who is a graphic designer. No, ‘Atmos’ isn’t his real name, and he probably doesn’t like to be called ‘Johnny’ either – but that is what I call him. He is a graphic designer though, and has designed some sweet signs and such for several local businesses.

John reminds me of ‘Sergei Belov’ from the movie ‘American Flyers’. You can see Sergi in this clip at the very beginning, about 30 seconds in, and then the classic scene about 1 minute in…


John used to role with a big beard like that and sported a very similar brain bucket. Also note the upper body muscles which are somewhat counterproductive in a bike race – I think John has some of those too.

Anyhow, John reads my blog and apparently likes it. I’ll admit that I am pretty flattered about that, but the fact that he also really likes the movie ‘Cannonball Run’ helps keep me grounded.

So on our really big race team ride John and I chatted briefly about my forthcoming book, and my need for a logo. John put a few together for me…







I am pretty stoked about it. As you can see I incorporated it into my blog design, and switched backgrounds to make the entire thing look a little more angry. Very, very nice in an angry sort of way if I do say so myself.

If you don’t like the logo maybe you should read John’s story about it here…

http://cperspective.blogspot.com/

If you still don’t like it maybe you should look at it a bit longer…

Merry Thanksgiving Everybody.

The Wedgois

I have been riding long enough that most of my ‘first time on a bike’ moments are long since past. You know, the first time I fell off, the first time I got hit by a car, the first time I flipped a driver off…

You get the idea. Anyhow, last Friday I had my first ‘first time on a bike’ in a long, long, long time. So there I was stopped at a stop light with one foot clipped in and the other foot out – the pose that 'winter camouflage spandex guy' and other big time cyclist use to pee from. Anyway, so there I am when something incredibly embarrassing happens…

You’re thinking I fell over right? Well you’re wrong – I did that one years ago. No, this was worse. You see, somehow my chamois went wvoooop! Up my butt – a most unprecedented chamois wedgie.

In case you don’t know what a chamois is, it is the pad in bike shorts. It is pronounced ‘sham – E’. Don’t ask me why. I live in a state where Dubois is pronounced ‘Do – boys’, Kamiah is pronounced ‘Kam – E-I’, and perhaps most puzzling Pend Oreille is pronounced ‘ponderay’.

So there I am with a wedgois. I don’t know how it got there for sure, but I speculate it was the result of northward pressures from the bibs, lack of southward friction from the seat, and the torquing action of the one foot in, one foot out position. All combined to create the ‘Perfect Storm’ resulting in a tectonic chamois shift to the north.

I do the first thing anyone would do. I looked around to see if anyone noticed. No one seemed to notice, not even ‘sidewinder guy’ – the bike commuter behind me. Sidewinder guy is a story for another day...

So that’s good – no one notices the monumental wedgois I seem to have developed. It was so bad I think the IMT on the butt of my shorts had turned into IT, or at the very least INT. So now what? Do I dig it out there in public like a teenage girl pulling her underwear out, do I leave it, do I learn to love it?

I had gloves on so pulling it our wasn’t a real option – I wouldn’t have the tactile sensitivity or precision that this extraction would require. Besides I wouldn’t do something like that in public?

It was like 4 more miles home. Four miles of the bike seat shuffle. If you have ridden very much you know the bike seat shuffle – right cheek for a little bit, shift to the left cheek a little bit, slide back on the seat, slide forward on the seat, out of the saddle for a bit, and repeat as needed.

When I got home I waddled strait to the bathroom and performed the requisite extraction. I threw away the shorts. Then I had to take a shower because I felt dirty.

Correcting for the School Bus...

Took this beauty on the way home last night. It's blurry because the sick wind was blowing me around - but why worry?

Signs, Signs, and a Freak’n School Bus

Riding home from work the other day I see this sign…

It says 'No Waiting' on the part you can't see. I was just thinking to myself, ‘Self, you know what we need? We need more impatient drivers around here’. Apparently someone else thought so too. Interestingly, a pedestrian got hit by a car at the same intersection this morning just before I rolled through. Go figure.

It’s ok though, further into my commute I saw this sign…

Yeah, the one right behind the school bus. Stupid school bus. You will have to trust me on this – there is a sign on the other side of the bus that says…

“Why worry when you can pray”

Yep, why worry about your finances, your health, your responsibilities when you could just pray. I hope that works out for you. If it doesn’t maybe you can get in on that bailout thing.

Since we are one sign short of a Tesla song, I will throw this one in too…

I’m not sure what a DOMN is, but apparently there is a slow one near the Park Center Bridge. That’s what the greenbelt sign said anyway.

…everywhere there’s signs…

5 Miles of Fame: My Greenbelt Commute

The past few weeks I have made an effort to get back into the bike commuting thing. Finally yesterday it started paying off in a big way - more greenbelt tom foolery.

So I’m rolling home yesterday and role up behind none other than Kordell Stewart. Well, at least I think it was Kordell Stewart – that’s what his jersey said anyway. Didn’t look like slash from his Steelers days though, skin a bit pastier, hair was a bit stringier, and I didn’t think Kordell would roll on a Road Master. It made me feel a little down seeing him in such bad shape – I am a big Steelers fan. He did compliment me on The Red Sled though, but then that might be indicative of his situation – it has been a long time since someone complimented that bike.

Anyhow, not long after Kordell, I saw none other than Mario Cipollini urinating on the green belt. I am sure that it was Mario, he is the only one I could think of that would wear a winter camo bike kit. I never would have thought it, but winter camo has a spandexivity of about 9.5. To give the dude credit though, he did look like a real bike racer and could most likely kick my butt on the bike. But really, I mean who wears camouflage spandex – I guess maybe if someone gave it to you…
Besides, who pees on the greenbelt, I mean really. Feel free to mix in a bathroom, or in the very least dismount the bike and step into the bushes – it is the greenbelt, not the Tour de France – you won’t lose any time. Whatever.

So while I am cogitating that one I role into Garden City. I come around a corner and a few guys are coming right at me in both lanes – the one that is going to collide with me is Jeff Gordon. Yep, Jeff Gordon in the DuPont jacket riding the #24 Huffy. Couldn’t see me cause his Foster Grants were looking the other way. Reacting on instinct I called heads up and shot the gap between Jeff and his buddy. I put Jeff in the wall and his buddy off the other side – it was probably the coolest thing I ever did on a bike. That’s rac’n Jeff.

It was pretty tame after that though. I did see Kenny Chesney fishing for steelhead down by the Glenwood bridge though. I could be wrong though, he may have been after bass.

Dog Days of November

I’m honestly not sure why they call the August the ‘dog days’, but I am pretty sure that it isn’t because they are dogs favorite days of the year. Actually, I am pretty positive that my dogs favorite days of the year come in November.

I have two dogs. I call one ‘big yellow dog’ (byd), and the other one ‘little black dog’ (lbd). They used to have real names, but I try not to use them. Every time I say one of their real names both dogs come running expecting something great to be in the offing. The same thing happens when I make eye contact – that’s why I wear sunglasses so often.

Anyhow, both dogs love November. There is bird hunting, time with family, rotten fruit falling from the apple tree, and best of all doody minesweeper. Most of the time a person can navigate my backyard without stepping in doody. In November that changes. I have a maple tree that drops red leaves, an apple tree that drops yellow-green ones, a willow tree that drops yellow ones, an oak tree that drops brown ones and a handful of bushes that drop purplish ones. It makes for a nice looking carpet if you don’t know what lies below.

So I go out to do doody duty yesterday. Naturally the dogs go with me, but they stop and watch at the end of the patio – they know what lurks beneath. I make it like three steps, the fourth step is a soft one, the fifth one slides a little bit then stops – argh – the old double doody. I look at the dogs. The dogs are smiling. My dogs love November best.

The Double Eagle

Driving to work this morning I get behind a car all but parked in the middle lane of a three lane road. Cars are streaming past on the left and right, but you can guess where I am – yup, right behind the idiot.

It’s an old dude and he obviously wants to make a left at the next street that is like 10 feet ahead. Rather than take responsibility for his own driving ineptness and go ‘around the horn’ to the next cross street and back track – he decides he will make everyone else pay for his bad driving decision – so he stops in the middle of the freak’n road waiting for a gap to move his car over. Of course the gap will never come because people just keep veering into the other lanes to go around him. I guess I shouldn’t be angry, it is the American way – making others pay for your bad decisions.

Anyhow, I sit behind the guy. I scratch my bum. I fidget with the radio, and defrost controls. I run my hand through my hairs (both of them). I notice that the guys license plate says DBL EGL.

Is it a sign from God? I do have a double eagle coming – should I use it here? I cocked my fingers and got ready to unleash the double eagle, but pulled back at the last second. A double eagle in a car is like a tattoo on your ass – no one will see it. Double eagles (and tattoos) are meant to be shared.

Yup my double eagle is going to be something to see. It’s going to come while on the bike. I might even throw in an iron cross. Oh yes, arms crossed on my chest and both birds flying – the rare Double Eagle Iron Cross. It will be spectacular.

No Where To Go

There is nothing worse than when you get all dressed up in your sexy bike clothes only to go into the garage and find your bike with a flat tire. That’s what happened to me this morning when I went out to go to work. Eff, all dressed up and no where to go. So I fixed the flat and rode to work.

In the big picture, that makes 7 flats to only 4 birds, in my flats to birds ratio. The way I see it I have scientifically proven that there is a relationship between birds and flats soooo – I have got a big double eagle coming. It’s like a pair of free bird coupons. I could probably throw in a bonus eff you – and still be golden. Look out everybody!

Maybe if I tried to fit in a little better I would get fewer flat tires. Maybe I could get one of those hipster fixed gear bicycles. I could role with no brakes and no helmet because – well it’s cool. I could get some deep dish velocity rims – because it is important to go fast when your gear is fixed and you have no brake. It would give me room to post special anti-establishment, or anti everything messages like “You Haters Suck My Balls” or simply “Fuck You”. Now that would make me cool and hip.

(http://bikesnobnyc.blogspot.com/ is the best bike blog on the planet btw)

I could even throw in a spoke card from an alley cat. It doesn’t matter that I don’t really know what an alley cat is – or that even If I did know that there are like 2 bike messengers in Boise (and they are both unemployed dudes that just like to ride fixies around town). Yep, then I would never get a flat. I could even throw on some bull horn handle bars, or those nice curved track handle bars – because you know, we will have a velodrome here soon – well we will if it doesn’t fill up with water before the concrete is poured. It would be a nice pond.

I think I will just buy a few more tubes.

Liberation

So I voted yesterday. I went to my local polling location and was greeted by a line out the door and general disorganization.

Turns out there are two precincts at my polling location. Never has been in the past – this must be one of those new improvements they have been talking about. Yup, add a precinct, but have them vote at the same place – good idea. That way you can get to the polling location, wait in a really long line, only to find out that there are really two lines – one really long, and one really short. Precinct 133 had a long line. Precinct 134 had a short line. Turns out most people don’t know what a precinct is, much less which one they live in. I know which precinct I live in – you can probably guess which one.

So I get to the front of the long line. There is a stop sign to wait to get into one of two more lines – based on your last name. One line is A-L, the other M-Z, one is long, the other is short. I shouldn’t have to tell you which one was long.

At the front of line 2 they ask me my name. I give it. They ask my address. I give it. Insurmountable security, couldn’t work around that. They give me a ballot folder. I open it – empty.

Line 3 is the ballot line. I see people in front of me that showed up after me and had to register. The registration line was shorter than line 1. You can skip from registration straight to line 3. Anyhow, I get to the front of line 3 – there is an old lady there with a pad of ballots and a rubber stamp. Each person walks up, she peels a ballot off, stamps it, and puts it in the folder. Couldn’t have done that stuff before hand. Couldn’t have found someone without arthritis to perform that task either.

On to line 4. This is where you get to wait for an opening in one of the origami cardboard voting booths. They remind me of those temporary trash cans that they use at events – hmm. I wonder if these things say BFI on the side?

So the little old lady at the front of line 4 holds you there and points out when a voting booth opens up. It might have helped if they chose someone for this task that had a little better eyesight. I guess she did have to make sure that everyone was using the official voting pens – the ones that someone spent hours taping a fake leaf to.

Finally I get to vote. Rubbing shoulders with the big dude on the left and the smelly chick on the right I eagerly grab the pen and start filling in bubbles. It took all my concentration to stay in the lines, and to avoid just drawing pictures with the filled in dots like I did in high school.

As I try to figure out what a trustee for the College of Western Idaho is, and why I am voting on them I reflect on the new style ballot. Another new improvement. Apparently moron proof – and it only takes 5 times longer to count than the old ballots. Nice improvement?

So I make my choices, then proceed to the longest line of the day, yes line 5. With my ballot secured in the security folder and the folder firmly in my hand I wait. After a while I give up and engage in small talk with my fellow voters – mostly about the speed of the line, and the fact that Chuck Winder didn’t have an opponent in the election and how bad that sucked. Did I mention Chuck Winder was two people ahead of me in line?

Still in line five.

Still in line five. Dude has to look up your name and call it out, then you can put your ballot in the box and collect the all important ‘I voted’ sticker. Dude has a nice call out voice, very good in fact, but his alphabet skills need some work – hence the delay.

Finally at the front of line five I say my name, toss the security envelope, and jam my ballot into the slot – like a fat kid on a donut. After a little scolding for dropping the ballot in the box before he read my name off the list I get my sticker and am liberated.