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I'm about as sure of your reasons for visiting this blog as my reasons for keeping it. So sit.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Hey, let's be careful out there. [Esterhaus]

From The East Bay Express:

So That's Why People Live in Piedmont

Between 7 a.m. and 3 p.m. on July 5, Piedmont police records show reports of a house being egged, a loud leaf-blower, a blocked driveway, two off-leash dogs, a car parked too long, "a suspicious person carrying a plastic bag," a dead rat, and a dead cat. That's it. Within those same hours in Oakland, police records show five shootings, an assault with a deadly weapon, three armed robberies, a strong-arm robbery, an assault with a deadly weapon, and an unexplained death. That's it.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Gypin' N Rippin! The Shops. Part 1.

Schultzie,a good buddy of mine, and former bike rat coworker, reminded me of a bike shop episode that begged for blogging...and he's right, it's priceless, but it will have to wait. It got me thinking of where it all began, back in this tired old rag of a neighborhood in Detroit, at the indefatigable G & R Bike shop. The Frenchman bought the place from the original owners who had decided there was more money to be had in gas stations and rep'ing. They gave the Frenchman, then a current employee, terms he couldn't refuse, and he found himself the sole owner and proprieter. I don't think he was yet 24 at the time (I plan on confiming this...). The was one small catch. The name had to stay. Now, as I said, this was kinda sad little section of Detroit, circa 1979. Not rough in the gangbanger sense, people generally just trying to get by, but pretty rough around the edges. Petty theft was an everyday occurace and everyone of age in the shop was packing or had one at the ready. Not a single bike on the floor had pedals installed thus ensuring a fair foot race if one should suddently find legs. During the summers, an endless parade of yoots loitered in the shop, killin' time and hassling us for sport. Once in a while they'd buy a patch kit. Mostly though, they just heckled from the isles. One particular day, I was being grilled by a young pair of citizenry on the price of every bmx bike we had on the floor, color commentary retorted to every price I slung. Finally, one yoot asked what the initials in the name of the shop stood for? His foil beat me to the bell. "Gypin' an Rippin' Yo! Game, set and match. We laughed all summer.

Friday, July 11, 2008

"This number is also very trainable."

Harumph. That's a direct quote taken from a write up of a fitness test I just completed. Translation: You are one outta shape M-Fer. More dis-heartening is what that sentence implies; that my other suck-ass performance metrics are here to stay. Why oh why can't I just accept that fact that my genetic makeup predisposes me to a sport requiring a significantly less aerobic/anaerobic talent base...like cribbage.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Cycling Goodness from Monkey Dust!

Called out.

So gewilli called me out today and I am deeply humiliated.I tried, I really did. I'm so embarrassed. It was a moment of weakness...and a very expensive one. I didn't want a power meter. It just showed up. Really. I didn't want FTP, STP, power profiles, CNS, CVS, WKO+, REO, CPV, TSS, NP, MMP, NAN or any of that other crap. I opened up Pandora's box and all those acronyms just came spilling out all over the floor. Now gewilli is thoroughly disgusted with me AND I've got one hell of a mess to clean up. Oh how do I get back in thine good graces? Would telling you I also got a coach work?

There is an upside. Being the self-loathing defeatist that I am, being able to quantify ones suckness in multicolored graphs does hold a certain morbid appeal.