Enjoy the silence
I’ve tried it. Maybe I’ll try it again someday, but until then, I ride in silence. I need that silence. When I’m working I always have music on which is necessary for me to get anything done. But it is a stimulus. Add in Twitter, Facebook, RSS feeds, FriendFeed, and email and you’ve got a lot of crap running around your brain. When I get on my bike, it’s a complete separation from all of that. I get to concentrate on the ride, hear the wind, birds, cars getting too close, Cat 4 riders blowing past me too close, and well you get the point. I like listening to what’s around me. It simply clears my head. Almost.
I have deep thoughts about my hopes and dreams
On rare occasions I have epiphanies during my rides but mostly it’s sarcastic reactions to what I see. There’s a lot of interesting **** out there (at least in the DC/Metro area) and it usually sparks something. Unfortunately I end up forgetting it before I can get home. Well starting today, I’m going to try and record some of those thoughts during ride (iPhone recorder) so I can bore the hell out of you here. Hence the blog name. Plus, if you didn’t think it could get any worse, I’m going to force feed you my kit selection for the ride.
Today I was channeling Chris Horner. Okay, maybe just the jersey and the shaved head, but close enough. On second thought, maybe not the shaved head since Chris is bald and my Wahl clippers set on No.1 gets me where I need to be, but you get the point. Also, I know Chris is an Oakley man so my Rudy Kerosenes aren’t historically accurate. But I do have the team issued Louis Garneau yellow helmet that Saturn team wore. Unfortunately it’s past its freshness date so I can’t wear it anymore.
There’s got to be something wrong with me.
List of random ridiculousness!
- “Stand by THIS mutha****a!” – I was riding by two African-American boys no more than 10 years old walking towards a huge outdoor picnic/gathering. They were having what looked like a good time joking with each other. One of them had is arm on the shoulders of the other and it looked like a perfect scene from the movie Stand By Me. At that same moment the one with his arm on the other turned to look at me and his face instantly changed. “What the **** you lookin’ at white ass?” It didn’t exactly register and the kid didn’t give me a chance, instantly firing again, “Look at your white ass!” I just started to laugh and shake my head. That **** gets taught early. Very, very sad. He is right though, I’m Irish/German, I have no pigment. I just burn hideously, turning a grotesque shade of pink and fleshy red, then back to paste once I’ve healed. Regardless, hooray for race relations.
- Your back hair looks like a tramp stamp – To all guys: bibs are not strange. People who know, ride nothing but. In fact, it’s strange not to ride with them. There are benefits other than being Euro-racer cool. Like for instance, when your bargain Pearl shorts roll down in the back while your cheap sleeveless jersey rides up exposing your virgin lower back and tuft of butt carpet resembling the butterfly tramp stamp on the nice lady I paid $20 to shake in my face last night. Hers was magnificent and career appropriate, yours is a disgrace. As were the exposed skin rolls oozing over the edges of your shorts. Bibs keep my extra energy storage neatly tucked away.
- The wrong way is safer! – You know who I’m talking about. The walkers, runners, and for ****’s sake cyclists who insist on doing their thing against traffic so they can see what’s coming. I’ll admit in some cases it makes sense to be able to watch for oncoming cars. Some cases. In this case it is not. Hains Point is a big one-way loop. It has two lanes that are generous in size. If you ride on the right-hand side , the cars and busses can pass you on left, in their own lane! Problem is, these douchebags feel as though they can do any damn thing they want so they ride, run, walk, skate, saunter, hover in what essentially is a passing lane. This isn’t normal behavior so those that aren’t used to that idiocy suddenly see these people at the last second, swerving to the right. Yup, that means right into me. It happens a lot. So as a warning to those cyclists that see fit to ride the wrong way on a one-way street: If you cause me to be struck by a car or a frakking tour bus and I haven’t perished from the impact and subsequent dragging, I will find you, pass you, half-wheel your ass, and return not to see if you’re alright, but to piss on your open facial wounds. Enjoy.
- That’s your chain bro – To the dude with the Colnago EPS, Fulcrums, and Record: That sound means you’re cross-chaining. Don’t disrespect the bike.
UPDATE: In my haste to make this the worst post ever I neglected to mention where I stole my images from. Hopefully the limited amount of people visiting this site will visit their work as well!