Sites, sounds and smells of a grease junkie

When I ride, I feel like I am surrounded by the dead. I see them, rather feel them, everywhere around me. Their ghosts hang around on the edges, where I ride. That may seem morbid, but hear me out. Daily on my rides I see dead animals. Their corpses bloated and covered with flies. Or squished into the pavement. Often covered in flies. I try not to breathe when I go past them. I also feel a little sad when I see them. Especially turtles for some reason. Maybe it's because I think, they don't even have a chance to get out of the way. A raccoon or a bird at least has a shot of getting out of the way. But a turtle, not a prayer. Death's die has already been cast at that point and it is completely out of the turtle's control whether it lives or dies. Besides the animals there are the white crosses. The little roadside memorials for someone who was loved (and still is loved) by someone else. When I see them, I am silent of mind and mouth. When I pass I alwa...

The single greatest thing for me working in the bicycle industry is the people. There are so many great people I have worked for/with over the years. I'm not even sure I could name them all in one sitting. But, even great people have bad things happen. It's just part of life. It sucks. It's shitty. Still, part of life. What remains of Matt's block Found out today that a former co-worker and friend, Matt Lieven and his wife lost their home in the Waldo Canyon fire in Colorado Springs, CO. During Matt's tenure at Trek he was nothing short of rock-star status. Super positive dude and always willing to go the extra mile. Just a solid dude. So to Matt and his wife and all the other families affected by the fires in Colorado, Utah and elsewhere in the West, my thoughts and prayers go out to you. Be well out there.

This is indeed later than I had intended on posting this. C'est la vie. June 9 was the Trek 100, the annual charity ride to help raise money for the MAACC (Midwest Athletes Against Childhood Cancer). It's been a little over two weeks since I did the Trek 100. Overall it was a great ride. Overall, I felt just fine. I might not be the fastest rider, but I am consistent and just keep on trucking. The route was fine . It was cool to ride through places that I have not ridden before. I had never ridden that far north of Trek. There was enough stops and we stopped at all of them, that I felt fine. For the first 50 miles. The final 15 were a bit rough. It was properly warm at that point. It was also properly breezy. And we were riding directly into the wind. All of that would have been fine, if I hadn't blown through my two water bottles in the first eight miles. Even that would have been fine had my right calf not cramped up. So the final 15 miles were easily the tough...

I'm doing the Trek 100 this year. It's been a couple years since I've done one. This will be my third. Every other year I've done the 36-mile ride. This year, decided to cowboy up and do the 62-miler.  That's 100 kilometers for our metric-using friends. It came to me in a dream and I feel compelled to make it happen. This isn't my first time on the bike in a kilt. I've done a few events in a kilt, most notably the 24-Hours of 9 Mile in Wausau, WI. Granted, I have not ridden this far in a kilt, but if I can ride off-road in a kilt, I think riding on the road in a kilt should be relatively easy. Regardless, it is going to happen. It is going to be a blast. I'm sure I'll be hot and sweaty and ready to take the kilt off by the end, but regardless, it'll be fun. For me that is part of what the Trek 100 is about. It's a social event to help kids. Wish me luck!

Like a great number of Americans, I've had a long-standing love affair with the automobile. I'm not sure when that love started, I would guess sometime back before I even knew I had a love for cars. I'm more or less a reformed car junkie, though I do have a soft spot for certain combustion-engined vehicles. The "rumpty rumpty" sound of a big block running some clearly not street legal cam makes me laugh, manically. Bad Ass Wagon! While my testosterone and evil laugh belong to those big Detroit steel beasts, my heart belong to the wagon. Yes, you heard right, the wagon. Maybe as a kid I saw pictures of the Chevy Nomad and fell hopelessly in love. Looking at that picture of the cherry red and clean white, it's easy to see why I would have fallen in love. The car has gorgeous lines. It looks ready to hit the road and roll. It has the form and function I crave. Capt Ahab's nemesis My first real-world experience with the station wagon was the 1971...