July.

Everyday.

My Commute. My Stand.

Back From France. This is whats been going on.

Tanner.

The New SteamRoller, Trent.

New SEASIDE KIT. I have joined the Mafia and it feels so good.

Derikson with some wild bars and a busted hand.

The Last Day.

This is a little late but here are a few pictures of the tour and my encounter with some weird French people.

Early morning rise, can’t really keep my eyes open because of the white hot light of the sun flooding my room. I get cleaned up and get my gear together for the day, tube, spare tire, wrenches, levers, pump, helmet and bag. I always have my Paris 2009 book on me and moleskin. I head down stairs to grab my bike and drop off the room key. As I move onto the Sunday morning streets of Paris there is and eerie lull over the entire city. I suppose everyone is either at church or sleeping off a night of heavy drinking. Onto the main street, the weather in Paris this last week was perfect for riding, warn for a t shirt and shorts but cool enough so you wouldn’t work up a gross sticky sweat. Just being on those old roads was a thrill in and of itself, but today I was heading to see the final stage of the Tour. I get a nice breakfast and sit by a fountain, enjoying the sun and pigeons. A young boy races his small bike around the fountain ad a good speed for a little guy, it made me smile, seeing pure joy in the mere fact one is riding a bike. I embarked out to the cool summer air, encased by the cities smell, a mix of cigarettes, urine, and crepes. The city was still in the slow process of waking itself up as I pass Notre Dame to cross the Seine, there were other cyclists on the road heading in groups of two or three toward the Champs, I begin to encounter streets shut down in preparation of the large crowds expected to come and watch the weary cyclists roll through on the last stage of the end all be all tours of cycling. I get to the Arc De Triomph snap a few pics of the bike and head into the crowd of spectators. It’s still only ten in the morning and I have a long while until the riders roll in, I wonder around buy a few things get some food and a beer or two. Around three the sponsors parade starts and I find myself a spot. This was a cool time waster, a lot of people had claimed their spots early in the morning and this was the first sign that all their waiting will soon pay off. The floats came by making as much noise as they can to rev up the swarms of people eagerly anticipating the racers. At around four commotions erupts as the first signs of the actual race come to light. Then, and eruption of noise and everyone pushes for a spot to look on. Then up the Champs comes a Mavic team car and the breakaway group, just a minute or so behind the peloton, in all its glory and color. Where I was I got a look as they rode by to the turn around, then flashed by in a chaotic dance of gears, pigment and wind. These guys were hauling, I could pick out Contador by the yellow kit, and Lance by his number and Astana kit. The peloton is followed close by the team cars, another sight worthy of note, the cars are the camels of the team carrying all the necessities for on the road mechanical work. They two are in bright vibrant color carrying the most beautiful bikes I have ever seen. The riders made a few laps before the finish, I took pictures and a video for the first two then just sat back and watched, in amazement my jaw was at the concrete at the shear muscle and endurance of these men, gods on mechanized stallions.
The race was over, I mounted the Pista and rode back to my Hotel, and it was a nice ride. Most of the roads were still shut down so I cruised around with ease for a while. No particular direction, just soaking in and sucking out the marrow of the city in all its ancient prominence.
That sink in the stomach as you head over the grand hump of a roller coaster is what greeted me back into the United States. But shit was I ever happy to greet the customs man with a big old “Howdy!” and a smile. Now don’t get me wrong, I loved my time in Paris and France is a great place. It’s just that their airport is a fucking shit show. I show up and a lady asks me where I am going, I tell her Boston and she shuffles me into a small line of people, sweet quiet morning at CDG. I get through their loose security, but will later find out it’s not as loose as I would hope, and get to the ticket teller and she becomes very confused. “Oh, Oh, ooooooh, you have to head down to section 2, there is where you can pick up your ticket.”. Well shit, now I take my gear, wondering around with a bike box is a little bit of a bitch, and head on down to Section 2. I move towards Section 4 then 3 and as I turn the corner to 2 it’s a cluster fuck of people, bags, sweat and bike boxes. It seems everyone wanted to leave Paris that day and all take the flight to Cincinnati, well lucky for me I already had a ticked reserved and was short through the line after waiting to about five minutes. Starting to sweat through my flashy new tour shirt I meander through another security section and up to another quite attractive ticket teller. She soon becomes my worst enemy, these women took no pity, I checked one bag and then got my tickets and pleaded with her about my bike box. “You will have to pay a tax for that, 300 dollars.” “You Fuck” I thought in my head as rage and disgust for the French Airport system began to boil in my skull. Soon a smug prick walks over and tells me its two minutes till my flight closes and I better get my ass moving if I want any of my stuff on the flight. Again I move to another line and plead, all the people behind the “Tax” desk look at me at laugh, whispering things to each other in French and most likely calling me an asshole to my face. Well fuck you Delta, my stuffs free in Boston but three hundred fucking dollars in France, Stuff It! Concerned I would miss my flight and be stranded for another day with no money I over charged my debit card hurled my box onto a troll and walked to my gate, steam rushing from my ears.
I now sit in Cincinnati, waiting to get home and see July at Logan. It does feel good to be back and understand what the guy I am buying gum from is telling me.

The Build Up.

The Tour rolls into Paris tomorrow and Im super excited, there will be many more pics to come but here is whats been going on so far.

PAris Has.....

Bike Cops, Bike Sharing and DUI Bars.

Paris....1

Went out on the bike for the first time yesterday for a little trip to the Eiffle Tower and Napoleons Tomb, it was a good time. The paris streets are wild though, there are bike lanes but sometimes they just end and you get crammed between buses and mopeds. In all it is good riding, though I do need to get used to their traffic system it will all come together.

(Sorry I couldnt figure out how to flip the pictures)

Rolling in and out of Days.

I am here at last, it was a long trip and a very interesting first day. Right off the plane while waiting in line to get checked for passports a woman began to yell for the police, they arrived and took a man down for reasons I am un sure of. I got in at about 6 in the morning Paris time and waited to move through the lines like cattle, it was ok, I met a man named Pascal who had been teaching in Montreal for nine years and was just coming back home. When I went to get my bags I freaked out when I did not see my big bike box on the luggage belt, with a tear in my eye I said I would have to move on and get my car and call the airport later, well, as I walked to meet my ride there it was waiting with a bunch of other huge boxes at the exit, needless to say I just about yelled aloud with joy. With all of my belongings accounted for I moved out into the soft summer air and made my way to the center of Paris. My driver was a nice man, he drove like mad and I was amazed at how the motorcycles and vespas weave in and out of traffic with out a care in the world. I got to my hotel and was told my room would not be ready until 1. Thats fine, its 9 in the morning I will figure something out. So I left my things and walked about. Notre Dame was just a few streets away so I went there and walked around, its free to get in so I spent some time in there and wrote a bit. Other than that it was just walking around taking it all in and trying to stay wake. Things are off to a good start and tomorrow I will have some pictures up and the bike out. I just hope I can get through these 7 days with the little to no French I know.

Tomorrow..............

I leave for Paris tomorrow and am super excited, got a new camera and some cash in my pocket, this is going to be awesome.

Rain..............BlackJack.

So, I have turned 21, went to Lowell and had a Sunday ride to Kerouac Park and some bars. I was on a beat Varsity but still had a blast, the ride to Chelmsford was rough but I made it. Thanks for those who were there and the people I met, it was very layed back and nice. Since my birthday it has rained just about everyday, my commute is wet, I am giving up cigarettes as of now its been 5 days, this time I got some gum. I have acquired some new gear and parts, building a new road bike, getting a single speed together, building wheels searching for a new track frame and loving my job.

I guess it is time to start talking about my trip I have been planning. I will be heading to Paris for a week come the end of July. I have it all worked out except for getting my bike there. I do not think it will be much of a problem, i will just have to pay a few more bucks to get it on the plane. I am going by myself, friends showed interest but it was hard for everyone to pull funds to go. So thanks Scott for paying me so well at the shop.

I figure it this way, the best way to see a city is to ride it. A day is not enough time so I am doing a week and catching some of the Tour. It should be nice, I need some real time alone where I wont run into people I know or dwell on the things that have been rolling in my head for a while now. My home town is foreign to me, my Home is still the same, but the landscape and people of the place igrew up in has altered. I am an alien. I just do not feel like I am from here anymore, simply just hanging my cap for a few months until I head back to Amherst. I am a Nomad. These are some of the things I need to work out on the cobble streets of Paris, this is not so much a vacation as it is therapy, a quest for self discovery, explanation and exploration.

Summer Style......

So summer has come. I am back in Danvers and am now working at SeaSide Cycle in Manchester MA. Its a great shop to work at and I have been learning alot from the guys there. The bikes that roll through are a far cry from the ones at the coop, new Specialized Roubaix and Serrotas. I still get to work on the old beaters and bikes that should be retired to say the least. But I fix 'em and try and keep my own running.

For the first week I was riding my old Bianchi Stelvio that was my Dads, it was sweet with old Campy and Dura Ace on it, that not is up in Toronto because my brother has found a new love for riding and I hope he keeps at it as a training tool for hockey. We did go out on a nice ride before he left, just a little ride through Ipswich, Wenham Beverly and Danvers. It was a good short hour and a half ride, it was funny to see how he rides, not really knowing how one should act while riding with someone else and on the road with cars coming by you. He did well and the ride was gorgeous, some good farm land that one may over look unless they get off the main roads of the North Shore.

I had my Lemond running for a few short days, but I needed to swap out some parts for the Bianchi, Al doesnt like the vintage feel of down tube shifters, so that is now hanging as a lonely frame at SeaSide. For the last week or so I have been doing the 11.3 mile one way on the Pista. 48-17 isnt all that bad but I ordered a Surly Dingle Cog (http://www.surlybikes.com/new/dinlgecog_pop.html ) so the commute may be a little easier, as well I can still have the ease of switching it up to rip through the Viz.

Its weird riding by myself all the time now, I went from a great group of dudes to ride with to maybe two guys who might ride sometimes. I haven't even had a game of POLO yet this summer. Though I only played a few times at UMass I was hoping to get some more games in.

The solitude does have its advantages, I can yell at myself a nd cure the cigarettes I smoked with no one there to make fun of me for being to hard on myself. As well, I dont have to worry about anyone doing anything stupid in traffic. I noticed I dont get yelled at as much by myself either. Which is a good thing for sure.

Summer should get better, I am going to France in late July, catch the Tour and maybe ride with some locals if their down, if not Paris on a bike should be a blast, alone or with new friends.

More to come soon. Keep Riding. Big ups to all the Coop Rats.

The Shop.

Here is what our shop look like at UMass. Good times, small space.

MAKE IT RAIN!!!

So, another Friday comes, the day started out beautiful! Shorts and a sleeveless-t, nothings better. After the shop closed up a few of us rode out to NoHo to the Smith Bike Kitchen to say hello to the gals that work there. It was a nice ride, back roads not too hilly but burned the legs. We got there after a little search around campus, it must have looked a little odd for a pack of eight or so guys riding through the all girls campus, yelling at each other and not paying any attention to the people around us, I don't think people knew what to do when they saw us coming. Well, we find the Kitchen and introduce ourselves check out the space and start helping out with bikes. We were working outside then it began to rain. The Kitchen is no bigger than the Coop at UMass, but a little more out of the way and looks like Freddy lives there, but its a space and the girls there enjoy it. We say our goodbyes and are off to ride the 9 or so miles back to campus.


We get back, riding through some farms and nice mellow hills and some great flat sprints. It was raining pretty heavy at this point, so we jump onto the bike path ans I cruise back to my house, the path conveniently come out behind Amherst College a few doors down from my house. I take a shower, have a beer and re coop before heading out, grab a nice meal with Dorthy Mantooth and never call her again.

Well, now its raining really hard and it is Ten so time to hit the spoke, we don't get asked to move and hide under the over hang. We decide to hit one party and hang there as long as we can. its a friends house so we know it will be alright to be there all night. Route 9 in Amherst is a long stretch of strip malls and gas stations. It all starts with a big descent down a monster of a hill. We get going after our booze is picked up, the rain is still coming down hard and the roads are soaked, I forgot my rain pants and most everyone else didn't even have rain pants. Down the road we go, single file, not much talking or laughter going on like we usually do. I hang at the end of the line and look on as everyone rides on, my clothing beginning to collect the rain. I get into a rhythm, ten pedal strokes to every drop of rain from the brim of my cap. Smooth and fluid as the water around me. I just hang back, keep a mellow pace and just enjoy the hum and swish of the road. Then we get close to the house and I sprint to the front to show the group the drive way and we are there, damp and ready for a beer.

We enter and are welcomed, told the dryer was ours for the night and to toss our things in. This is nice, I grab a seat on the counter and don't really move say for another beer, or a quick dart outside.

Time to leave and we put our half dry clothes on and head back out into the cold rain night moving toward morning. We jump out onto Route 9, and jump on the bike path home. Bad idea, its dark and they mixed glass into the asphalt to lower the cost, this means a lot of flats, out comrade got one so we walked the three or so miles back with him. Well riding a bike drunk is easy, but walking one is a son of a bitch.

Next morning, wake up late and need to get to the Coop, 15 pieces of glass in my front tire, I walked, used the spare tube the day before. Just another Friday night, don't know the extent of it all until the morning.

HEY LANCE! THIS AINT THE TOUR DE FRANCE!

Another night another ride. We meet up, some are slow getting there and we aren't out and about until a little past 11. No matter the ride from my house was great, it had been raining all day and the roads were slick. We head out after a beer or two up College St. a large,steep, killer of a hill. Trough town and down through campus, there are a lot of "HEY LANCE" and "FAGS". Its fine, we were also called the "Green Hells Angles" a few times, that was kind of cool. With cool rain air and the spray from the wheel in front of you and a buzz from beer it was a nice ride. We head to out first party, just off campus, the place was packed, a band down stairs and a big mix of all sorts of people. We hang there, bumming everyone out, our friend cut a mullet the night before and made it his mission to get Red Neck wild, with a Bud heavy forties and short shorts he did just that. For the most part no one knows anyone at the party, but we manage to mingle in and talk to a few people before breaking into small groups outside. A little past midnight there are some bike cops spotted, needless to say they are sort of the carrier pigeons for the squad cars and it seemed the party was about to be swarmed. We assemble the team and head for our bike, it takes some time to get ourselves together and the bikes to be unpeeled from one another. Well it seemed we were not going fast enough for one host, and he began to yell at us, calling us a few names, but what he didn't understand is that at that time we were in a church parking lot having nothing to do with his party. Some people just want to start shit, we told him we were waiting for a friend to get his light that fell and we would be on our way. Back out into the cool air spray of April. We head further down the road to a house where we know good people live.The road there is an absolute shit storm of potholes and one of us gets a flat. This is where the night changed, we all went from being a little pissed off to realizing how fun this was. Though there was a flat we all pulled together, getting him a tube, levers, a pump wrench and getting him on the road, for a time. We get to the house and are welcome with open arms, not to many people there maybe ten and then the ten of us. Music was going and we fucking dance. Met a few people, danced and hand a good time.

Sometimes that is just how it goes on our Friday nights. No one thought we would be out, but we were, and in good numbers. We stuck together and helped each other out. Later on we went back to my house and just were loud and I don't really know if anyone said anything that made any sense other than goodbye, but it was fun and I thank you all again for these great night.

A bit about Work. And commute.

The UMass Bike Coop, a small, narrow high ceiling room in the University's Student Union. We try and make it work but space is an issue, to get an idea of the space its about two and a half bikes wide and maybe eight long, we have one stand which two mechanics can work on at once. But with the weather becoming nice here in Western Mass, the bikes are coming out. We do have a small storage space outside under an over hang. We are the underdog student business on campus, we are stereotyped as the goofs and underachievers, I can say we work hard to keep this shop going and as one of the two businesses that is not food oriented its hard for people to understand just what goes on in running things. For the most part, people bring in bikes saved from yardsales or attics, left in snow and rain or was their bike as a kid. Some bring in their trusty commuter, their weekend road bike or mountain bike. No matter what we fix it, we have to, in some cases we should just tell them to put it in the dumpster like some shops do, but they are just riding from their dorm to class of to the store downtown, let them ride what they want. Bikes are like people and people are like bikes. We all look at a bike and judge it, just like we do with people, so in a sense we judge a person by their bike. This is human nature and we can all get past this. I enjoy working on every bike that comes through the doors of our shop, no matter how shitty. Its great to see people ride away, being happy about their bike.

Maybe I care a little too much at times, I love my bike, I put just as much care and effort into others bikes when I fix them as I do my own and hope that when it leaves the shop they care for it just as much. It really is a bummer to fix up a bike and put alot of time into it and then see it back in the shop a month later mangled and rusted, all your hard work ruined. I tell people to treat their bike like a cat or dog, you wouldnt leave your dog or cat outside over night, leave them out in the rain or not give them the things they need to survive. A bike is the same way, if its neglected it will rust and components may stop working, you need to give it lube, air, and attention. Take care of your bike, bottom line.

Thanks Tyler

Heres some writing from my friend Tyler, I wanted to get other people i ride with to just write what ever comes to their mind, here is his, enjoy......

First off, you'll have to forgive the lack of direction with this post. I knew I wanted to write something, just not exactly what, or where I wanted it to go. I don’t know why I ever stopped riding. It seems that once I hit 14 I forgot about bicycles in general. I don’t particularly know why it happened, but here I am six years later feeling like I have rediscovered something great. When I was young, my bike was my only transportation. In the summer both my parents would be working for the majority of the day, leaving me home with no real way to get anywhere. If I wanted to head over to a friend’s house (more specifically a friend with a pool) I couldn’t ask for a ride, I had to pedal myself over. Georgetown had a small bike shop, and if I had some time to kill I was riding down, and would walk aimlessly around the shop (trying to appear as if I was looking to buy something, but secretly watching the mechanics work on bikes and trying to figure out what exactly they were doing, then going home and trying to do the same to my own whip)I think that bicycling is something I associate with my childhood. I can remember doing countless laps up and down my street, and going OTB when I tried riding no hands and no feet down my hill. Some of the first good friends I made were neighborhood kids who happened to be out riding one day, there was an impromptu game of red light green light, and then contests to see who could make the longest skid in some sand with their coaster brake. (So young and already having basic trackstand and skid comps!) To me, it’s not just the riding that makes bicycling so much fun. It’s the sense of community surrounding the activity itself. There is energy. It could be felt last Friday at critical mass. I don’t know how to explain it, but if you were there I think you know what I'm talking about. You could see it on the face of the little kids we slowly paraded by through Amherst Center. You knew that if they had their streamer rocking, top tube pad wearing, baseball card spinning bikes right then, they would have joined the fray. Our critical mass wasn’t as much of a protest, as it was a large group of riders looking to go for an easy ride with some friends. I like going. Nowhere in particular, just riding. It’s like going for a relaxing cruise in a car, but a bit more energizing and open to your surroundings. There have been several nights at 1 or 2 when I’ve gotten some funny looks as I walk my bike down the hall and out into the (until recently) cold frosty nights. I'm just going for a ride to clear my head and get out of my stuffy dorm room. Last night I gave a friend a call around 3:45 and we both went out for a short lap around campus. (I didn’t realize quite how tired and under the influence I was until we hit some moderate uphills- sorry if you were looking to ride around longer man!) Friends down the hall will ask 'Where are you going?' I just smile and respond with 'Just Going.'

We were out, and so were the Cops.

We have started to coordinate ourselves a bit better. We all show up at 10 or a little after organize and ride out. But the bar we meet at has become uncomfortable with our presence each Friday, saying the our gathering of bikes at a bike themed bar drives business away. So be it. It is true, we are not all 21 but when that time come I am sure all of use will show up earlier and grab a beer or two from The Spoke before we head out, but this is all an issue of public verse private space and who owns the side walk. This is an issue that I have run into before in my home town of Danvers Mass.

Unusually hot October day, I have been working since 7 a.m. at Marthas Bread Basket when 12 o'clock rolls around and the high school gets out for an early release. This is great for local business because all the kids flock down and hang out for a few hours before their normal time to go home. Sure it seems like a flood of kids at times, but its is also safe to say that a business can make a few hundred dollars more than any other normal day. So, there are a few kids eating some food and having a drink in front of my store when a cop comes up and tells them to leave. Seeing this I head out and ask what the problem is, the cop tells me the old ladies are concerned with the kids in down town, well it is none of their concern who is down there and what they are doing as long as they are not starting any trouble, which they were not. So because these kids "ruined" some old ladies lunches a massive attack by the local police ensues. After the cop tells me I do not own the side walk and that no one can be on our tables and chairs regardless of them buying anything in my store he leaves. I tell the kids they have every right to sit and finish their food then leave, five minutes later one of the kids has his face smashed up against the store front and is being cuffed, for sitting and eating a sandwich, this kid was only 16. I run out and demand to know whats going on and am met with a quick,"Shut the fuck up and get inside.", well I open my big mouth and yell at him as he parades this kid through town to his cruiser. No more than 15 minutes go by and three officers come into my store and ask me to go outside, I tell them I need to punch out and go with them. "Where do you get off calling me an asshole you fuck?" "You think you own this store and the sidewalk?", these are the questions I am met with as I am asked to turn around and get cuffed for disorderly conduct, not having my rights read to me or told until the next day at the court house, what I was being arrested for. It is in my opinion and the opinion of my employer at the time that the cops were the ones causing a scene, disturbance and over all poor conduct, they don't own the side walk either. So I got 20 hours community service and my record was cleared.

From being told to leave the bar front, we head to our trusty pals house and have a few before going out. We head to an undisclosed party and are welcomed right in despite our large numbers. Its a nice time, we all chat outside and slowly become inebriated. Things are going well and we have one of the best human pyramids to date, then flash lights and navy blue uniforms. "If you don't live here get out." a deep female voice rumbles from behind a mag light. All of us drop our beers, put them away, what ever and move out, we immediately have another place to go and swiftly go. Next party we know some people and are having a good time, giving each other knuckle tattoos and mustaches with sharpies mingling and what not, then another hush is forced over the group as word of cops enters. The party down stairs is being shut down and it seems that the one we are at is next. We leave again due to cops. Now, I begin to think they have us figured out and are using us to shut down parties and if that is the case then fuck. So we head to a party way out in the more rural part of town. The ride there is super fun however, all down hill, fast but scary because its dark as a dragons cave in spots. we get to this party and are informed its an underwear party. We all get down to our briefs and hang out. I'm out of beer at this point so I help myself to one and see whats going on. Not much, ex-girlfriend there making things awkward as usual, not saying hello, shitty stuff. I head back home with a friend and we tackle the up hill ride home, grunting and cursing the whole way. But I will say we charged it hard and my legs hurt in the best way because of it.

It is sad to think that we could have been the reason a few people got arrested last night. Or that the space of sidewalks will be disputed as public or private for a time to come. Also, why a group trying to do something positive and fun may be being used for the gain of a corrupt group of men and women who forget that they were once kids, they are human beings and are on they same level as you or I and that it fucking sucks to be arrested for something so petty and inconsequential as having a good time.

Just Whats on my mind.

The warm weather is on its way and bikes have been rolling in to the Coop. It feels good to have black hands at the end of the day. People have been coming in with their bikes that have been left on racks all winter, or the yard sale bike they got over break. Its great though, not all people are into riding year round and that's cool. As long as they are riding I am fine. What I don't like however, is when people are embarrassed of their bike. I guy came in with a Huffy mountain bike(not sure of model or year) and was apologizing for how crappy it is. Its fine, your twenty something and cant afford a good bike, does it get you from a to b, yes, good. Having a good bike takes time, its a slow process and should be. When I was a kid I had a BMX, it was right off the show room floor and a rode it for a few months then found something new to keep me occupied. It was not until years later that I started to race Mountain Bikes for the school I was attending, again the bike was handed to me. I learned nothing, I let other people work on it for me and treated it like shit. Then when I was a sophomore in High school I got a yellow Raleigh Sprite 27, for 5 bucks, I fixed it up and rode it until college. On this bike I learned respect for bicycles, I had to work hard to keep it in riding condition and had to work to ride it, it was a piece. College comes and I leave it at home, I entered UMass in the middle of the winter, here is where I began to get into road bikes and track bikes. I am now a mechanic and ride everyday no matter the weather. But it takes time, you cant go from one extreme to the other in a week. So don't be embarrassed of your bike, learn from it, take care of it and progress.

So, the forecast looks good for tomorrow and its the last Friday of the month so you know what that means, Critical Mass. Now, being out in Amherst Critical Mass may just be more of a nuisance than a way to help bicycle awareness. But, to me its a time to ride with my friends and acquaintances in a pack and have a good time. This is how I look at it, when I ride by myself I am aggressive and will let cars know I am there and to give me some room, but when you are riding in a Critical Mass there is no need to be aggressive and yell or punch at cars. During a Critical Mass people driving are aware of you they see 50 or so people on bikes and will get out of the way, this ride is more to express a point that we all ride everyday and cars should be aware that in a group of two or fifty we deserve the same respect.

My commute is short, 2miles, and I get through it with ease every day. Though the mornings suck all up hill the first half. But its quiet and not much traffic. Until the second intersection. Every morning I roll up to it and there is little room between me, the cars and granite curb. In this small space there are pot holes, sand and chunky pavement. On most mornings I slip through and race the cars into campus, this morning however I got pushed into the curb and jumped around a bit. I didn't fall over but it sure as hell woke me up. I gave a friendly tap on the passenger window and relieved myself of some saliva, she looked scared having not seen me, so I smiled and moved on. If you let them know your there, smile and give a wave, they are more likely to remember to give cyclist room. She pushed me a little so I pushed back, this is not eye for an eye but an exchange of "Hello", I am here you are here, we are both on the road so lets share it.

A little late, but I need to take it all in.

Ten in the p.m. and the red lights come flashing from in front of the Spoke as the early birds show up to ride. I get there, as an early bird and in about fifteen minutes we are a pack of about 20, bags at the ready with beer and goods for the night, red embers hissing and glowing from cigarettes. As the group forms and addresses are put on the table for party locations we move to our friends house to put a few back and wait a bit for the hosts to be in a more inviting mood. It is hard for a group of about 20 guys (there are only 3 girls if that in the pack on any night) to just show up at a party and not get kicked out. So, we have a beer or two, a toast and jump on the bikes. Away we go, down Triangle Street to Main, 699? was the location. Triangle Street is down hill to the intersection of Main, needless to say we are all a little buzzed and the skids feel like butter, but loose chain lines and potholes make for a harsh ride, about a quarter of us lost our chains coming towards the red light. My buddy Brian wasnt so lucky, he came to the light and went OTB from the sand on the road, or something the details are still up in the air as to just how he ended up face first in the pavement.

With some cheers from the rest of us we were on our way once the light blinked green and down Main in a hurry, this road is longer and steeper than the last with a few more potholes. I think the term "Masshole" cmae about not because people from Mass are assholes, but for the abundance of potholes to screw up anything on wheels.

Well, in one piece we make it to the house, right away things look out of place. Not to many cars in the driveway and no noise coming from it either. The door opens and a small, average college guy comes to the steps.

"Who are you guys, who do you know here?" the figure askes to the group, one dude who "Knows someone" speaks for the group. I never knew what was really said untill days later, but i went up took one step in the door and turned to leave.

"To my house!"

So we end up at my house, a little place that looks like a Doll House, I live with some Hockey guys and my brother, its alright.
We are there for about 15 minutes before the guys come home with a look of anger and defeat on their faces, it was time to leave again.
Out to a house where i know a few people, most of us never make it inside and just stand at our rack of bikes telling every drunk bro the same thing abotu how our friday night works.
I dont know about the rest of the guys and girls I ride with but I get a great sense of pride everytime I have to explain my motives for riding my bike.
That party was cool, nothing all to crazy went down, from here the group split, people heading off on their own, to their girls/guys place or sticking around.
A majority of the group and I went off to a small house just about on campus. This place looked dead from the outside, and as we moved closer looked like a satanic ritual was going on on the inside. We stand outside waiting to get the okay from someone who knows someone when our connection comes out in a white hat and sun glasses and tells us all to come in and have a beer. We have a 30 handed to us and start dancing, there were only about ten kids from outside our group in this place and we swarm and take over. As we get a roaring thing going some girl crys out, "If you only know the guy in the white hat, Then LEAVE!"
Well, it sucked but we had our time and beer there so we left, stealing another 30 on the way out and heading for home.

First Things First

So, there is a group of riders, mechanics and all around bike nerds that attend The University of Massachusetts Amherst and get together every friday night to ride. I am one of them, a mechanic at the University Bike Co-Op. It is a very small student run Co-Op that helps the University and local bike community for a little to no money ethic as well as build a strong group of friends and over all bike community. This blog does not however speak for the whole group, I am a single person who is involved with this community and feel that writing about my time and adventures with these people helps to take a weight off of my mind. As well, document a part of my life that is important to me and many other people apart of this community.



Along with telling stories of the FGDT (Fixed Gear Drinking Team) I may tell some more personal stories about my life and its relation to bicycles. I may even say a few words about some things in Bike Culture around the world, who knows I am using this forum to get things out and relate them in some way to a big part of my life, bikes.