This is a custom bag from RELoad, just look at the detail!
Just got back from a 2000 mile plus trip around the east coast, down to Raleigh NC, to Philly and back to Wisco in a week. Saw a bunch of family and freinds, and packed a bunch of great stuff into just a short period of time. We had the great pleasure while in Philly to not only eat some cheese steaks at Delassandros, but also to stop by RELoad Bags again. There are tons of bags out there these days, but I don't know why you'd buy anything else...Cool store, nice folks. Parked right out front was a really bitchin' Bilenky cargo bike too. Stayed for a couple of days near Manayuk, PA, so of course we stopped by Cadence to checked it out and I got my Rouleur fix on.
And got to ride some singletrack in the Wissahickon. Highly recommended. Thanks Lil C.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
This is a Photo James Lalonde took last year at Sun Prairie of Erik Jellum and Marko Lalonde racing through the beer pavillion at the Angell Park Speedway 'cross race. This year, I'd like to see 10 times as many folks packed in there cheering. Although this year isn't the State Championship, it will still be a great race.
I know for myself, last year's race set the standard by which all other 'cross races are measured. If you aren't doing anything this Sunday, Nov. 18th in the afternoon, come out and watch. Hell, grab a bike and jump in the fray!
And afterwards, we'll roll the five blocks back to Casa Powell where the beer and Tequila are on ice, the fire is warm and the laughter will be loud!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Friday, November 09, 2007
Friday, November 02, 2007
A friend of the Snot Rocket, Charlie Brigham, is riding his bike around the world. You can follow his progress here. He left from Madison a couple of months ago. I recieved a dispatch from him this morning describing each state he has visited since leaving. This is what he writes about the state of:
The sun is setting over my shoulder - not much time left now. It's the end of a day of pedalling, I'm hungry and fatigued. An hour's time, a little less, is all my window allows; any more and any site I pass will be invisible to my eyes. "Where will I rest my head?" I ask, without any vestige of a plan; just peel those peeps a little wider in this final dusky drive. There's a likely candidate, that hill there, topped with trees... but wait, a driveway looms ahead, a house is back there, close. Too close. Around another bend then, another possible spot, off the highway's bank; a dense-woods thicket, well concealed and never tread. But brambles yawn from everywhere, and how will I get down on in? I can't, or if I can, I'm sure to fill my gear with holes, and those gray clouds don't look too nice tonight. Keep searching then, let's see what's up this hill. Finally, I find a path that leads way back; no tires have marked its ruts in ages, though the rusty gate and sign proclaim my guilt. Whatever, fine, it's too late to continue now; it's this or ride in the dark, one lonely biker out alone; and at night I'd rather have concealment: its dangers are more predictable than a DUI or joyriding teen.
Yet still, I'm extra careful, in those high-risk slots of time - Is anyone watching me slip in here now, and are they making sinister plans for after dark? No, I'm just water-breaking, till the traffic's out of sight, and until I hear no dogs that bark, nor their master's eyebrow raised.
Okay, I go, and make it - now at least the road is blind; I search around at first, way deeper than I need, to catch a view from other sides: I'll need a foot-tall fire. I'm kind of clean here, I say, not harming anything at all; but if the morning tractor route goes past my little hedge, or a consummate woodsman decides to take a midnight stroll, I'll have to use my wits, and quick, and if it's going to come to that, then....
Anxiety; it bubbles in my mind as I quietly clear a bed; I try to keep it calm, but visions of what might just happen keep popping in my head. The loudest noise I make is sticks, no more than I should need; I break them under my tarp or tent, imagining the directions soundwaves fly. A zipper here, or velcro there, I've learned it doesn't travel, but still I stop and freeze to listen at frequent intervals, and learn what's out there hearing. I'm on my toes like this until I'm all set up for food, and then a different sneak of sense begins - the fire. It's pure stark light and smoke, and shines upon the trees quite high. It's not as bright as LEDs but licks and flashes, catching eyes. I've got to eat tonight though, and man I love that blaze. I have to trust my positioning, and see from others' sight - this far from where they'd be looking, it's at most a random flash, and at this distance from that road or hilltop house, they'd really have to try. Tomorrow daylight may illuminate the smoke, but tonight I'm sick of worrying, and illogically over-wrought with fears.
These things combine to justify some calm, and as I sit and heat my food I relax a bit, and let my thoughts unwind. I get used to the sounds around me, and the distances of each, and soon I only flinch at falling flukes, a walnut or dead branch. In the dark of these woods, it's hard to tell a critter from a sneaky man, but as I worry which it is out there, I know it goes both ways. Perceptions and the sense of such, each play half in this tricky game. A game I'm good at, I remind myself, and all that effort I made tonight will keep me safe from harm. A sleepy yawn and thoughts of rest come on, and the coals have all burned low. Eventually it's late enough that no locals will be up, it's time to fall to dreams; of course rest lightly just in case - oh wait, what's that, I bolt upright; oh shit, it's Saturday, that's a drag-racing pickup truck I hear, just over that next hill!
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Back in the day, some buddies started keeping track of the holidays in Marquette, Michigan by riding the Holiday Crit Series. Kind of like alleycats, but with less posing, and no messengers, or prizes...they were bike rides at the bro level, and damn were they fun. There is still a core group doing them, in this the 7th year since that first race. Below is a ride report from Jeremy Pickens detailing last night's ride:
dude, the ride last night set a new precedent. Starting in the fit strip about 45 minutes late(typical), about 35 proceeded to high school for some beers. From there, to the wright st. cemetary for some more beers and bottle rockets. after which, the group splintered at tourist park with some proceeding to the next stop--the dead river bridge--while others went to the Wright Place to refuel. Well wouldn't you know it, as my group rolled up the to the dead river bridge (underneath as if you were going to ride the nct) there was ligh, not artificial, but fire light. with the thought that some group had poached our intended destination, it was revealed that no, another group had not poached our spot. rather, the fire was contained in dozens of carved pumpkins there to greet us. more impressive, however, was the fully stocked 12 foot bar with stools that Speck and Stella had brought out there while we were en route. seriously dude, an entire homemade wooden bar, stocked, with accompanying stools. amazing! I'll send you some pics when i get them downloaded. Goetch was in rare form, setting of fireworks like it was his job. from there, a game of foot down behind the dome let to an after party at Larsen's that capped the evening. Nevin resurrected and rode the pbr cruiser, and no cops to speak of. all in all, a good ride. poured a little out for you.