filtered

floating through a late evening run. streets are calm as taking to the neighborhoods to visit humanity through filtered eyes. strode past houses with flickering tv's and open windows bellowing the music of the olympics. cheers, jeers and know it all announcers. looking up at moths dancing in the streetlights. the moon is making a comeback and starting to share illumination. fled the scene and took to the silence of the trails. clipped on the headlamp and startled the deer feeding on the berries near the trailhead. sought to erupt out atop the butte and take in the scene. rewarded. calmed the mind and the breathe and flew into my descent. emerged in the town, again to hear the updates of men's gymnastics from the open windows of houses seeking fresh air. passed a house cat pouncing on imaginary movements in the grass. found the street where i reside and shut it down. went into a stretch and saw the patterns forming on the concrete from the sweat dripping off the chin. tried to draw a little chicken, but it ended up headless. kitty in the window, watching.

fire and metal

it's sat in various stages of assembly for close to 11 months. i went into the first tubeset with impatience thinking that my one previous frame build under a very watchful eye could easily be duplicated. i was wrong. i realized very quickly i had had a lot of help and that help was not around to do it for me this time around. so it sat. machined, milled and ready. waiting. into the jig went various repairs of old steeds. cracks. dropout conversions. more brass and higher heat. more to clean up, but when it was clean they were starting to get smoothe and beautiful.

working with fire and metal has had me into the catacombs of hells bells and hematoma's. it's a very small part of what i do, but when the chance comes up i leap towards it. more than a few times this year fire and metal have sent me out the backdoors of the shop on two feet to soothe my inner demons and reclaim rhythm because the cursing and wrangling at either my impatience or ineptitude were taking a toll. that has all since passed.

i dusted off the box where it has sat. time to take the lines and numbers on the sheet and transform them into a ride. fire and metal.

chaos theory

the concussion of beats keeps the walk smooth and steady. the way too heavy door blocks me from pissing 3 seconds sooner. hardlegs in the bathroom smoking. opening act is killing it and the gatorade and beer are asking to be set free from my body. the night ride over here was cooler than usual. goosebumps from weather instead of...felt the satisfaction in killing my lines in the sprinkler slalom and showed up dry while my ride mates cussed at wet chests and helmets. rolled out on the phuket bukket so i wasn't concerned about it's presence in the bike rack once i came out. paused to recall the faces pressed against the glass as i hopped the median and manualed through an intersection to beat a stop light and turning bus. i remember when i couldn't hold a wheelie for shit. headliners hit the stage and the willamette amber starts to fog the senses. broke out of the scene because i couldn't take it and headed for the paths. i needed to ride and sit. found a high jump pit and just collapsed. checked out the stars and quelled the anxiety that had built up. cell phone blowing up with texts and calls. "where the fuck are you, dude?". i'm going home and starting anew tomorrow. my body and mind has seen enough.

motherlode

the location is a poorly kept secret that is protected by the effort it takes to get to. no parking lots. no parkway leading to the entrance. no farmers market vendors. no signage. the word is passed along like a treasure map's secret.

choosing to take the journey leaves you on hallowed ground. these bushes were planted here by dreamers a long time ago in a century where gold and a fresh start were on the mind of many. the harshness of the area took or drove off all but the berry bushes. they remain and thrive. running on foot, you travel lightly, eat your fill and thump trail in return. you could hike, but the round trip would require an overnight stay. two wheels seems to be the best option. first attempt, the contents were loaded into the pack and were mostly mashed blueberry juice by the time i got off the mountain. the trail is that harsh and you are not idle in the saddle. i returned this time with an idea. two of the largest, empty water bottles i could squeeze into my frame plus two more bottles in my back jersey pockets.

voila!