building

the beauty of having a friend who's always late is that you get to stop and smell the roses, per say. wet commute on the evening of art walk. felt good to breathe deep, feel speed and not have a deep ache in my heel. i reacquainted myself with the idea of breaking a sweat and found my legs pretty snappy on the ride over. burrito and beer with stump, then mounted the lights for a night urban cross ride. 15 minutes he leads, i have to follow, then 15 minutes, i lead. leader picks the route. 2 hours later, totally clapped out and muddy the door swings open at the villard street pub and i clomp, clomp my cycling shoes and muddy face up to the bar to order a pitcher of something cold to enjoy by the outdoor firepit. shoulders and forearms were sore. legs were deep and twitchy. mud mashed flat in the creases of my smile. it felt good to be out having fun instead of caged in fiberglass and the 4 walls of my home. no expectations, just enjoyment of the gift that opportunity and creativity afford us. leaves are on the ground. snow is on the mountains. mischief is afoot.

classified

lost. one right calf muscle. last seen being encased in purple fiberglass in the early morning hours of the 2nd of october. calf is white in color, with a slightly tanned hue. measuring approx. 14.5 inches in diameter. please return if found. reward offered.

tao of taro

autumn, though brief in the willamette valley, arrived some two weeks ago with maple trees that shone their gold hue across the cascade range. last fall, while mountain biking through the dense dark trees, we would be shocked while passing through the larch groves. bright yellow leaves lighting up the trail with a sharp gold shade. moist dirt from evening frost and interspersed precipitation made corners super tacky, providing traction of divine proportions.


the cast comes off friday. there is mischief afoot...

bjorkissey

vinyl

overheard while sitting in the waiting room...

nurse: how did you break your collarbone?
goth chick: whiskey and somersaults.

the equinox of the projected time in this cast has passed without incident and minimal scratching. the true test comes when i get on the plane to return to tobacco country in a few days. it's the day of travel that i dread. i have it mapped out and will be one of those wankers on those airport golf carts getting shuttled to my gate with the old people. so it goes...

the leaves are turning and falling. even as this is typed the rain is beating them into submission and tomorrow morning the sun will rise and my yard will be filled with yellow. i'm okay with that. tis the season. balance is to be expected.

the cross bike wimpers in the corner, now partially built, confused about why it's been stripped and left without a drive train or wheels. upgrades are coming. i felt that since the rider was needing to be healed and rebuilt, it was only fitting that the whip get the same treatment. i told it what they told the six million dollar man, "better, stronger, faster". maybe we'll get a chance to spin around the course at nationals in bend, most likely, it'll be kermesse style dirt road and double track riding which probably resembles the commute that meriwether and tank take daily when the homeostasis is restored here in my world.

until then, though, it feels like a vinyl kinda night.

late edit: congratulations to my alma mater for winning their first collegiate cycling national championship!

abbey

"may your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. may your mountains rise into and above the clouds. may your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you --- beyond that next turning of the canyon walls."

--Edward Abbey

gogol bordello

this is how we do it from the rafters. leg up with a beer in my hand. thank goodness for good friends and flat pedals.