Pretzel Logic

Sub atomic particles appear and disappear at will. Some particles can be in two places at one time. Virtual particles can become real and be measured. Some particles leave virtual turbulence when they disappear.

I do not pretend to understand physics. I suck at math, but every time I hear someone (like Stevie B. Hawking) talk about the little universe, I immediately make the jump to what I have thought forever: One disturbance in the chain can disrupt the universe.

For me it started with San Felasco prep. I'm a responsible kind of chap. I like to head things off at the pass. I like to hold up my end of the bond, and I have little patience for the unprepared of our planet. I took my bike to get fixed and upset the order of the bicycle. New parts were introduced, and problems appeared that were previously not there. As those problems were addressed, new parts and mechanics were brought into play, and the issues deepened. I tried to keep my energy controlled, but the more patience I applied, the less logic occurred. Whenever a problem was solved a new one took its place. I rode through the virtual and actual turbulence with varied results. All the towns greatest minds converged on my vehicle with equal amounts of victory and defeat. Finally the issues whittled down to noises and annoyances. The latest was a creek in the cranks which Worm (insert black hole theory joke here) fixed. Immediately after the relief set in, and I believed quiet riding was in my future, a pedal began to squeak. Just as mysteriously as it appeared it vanished. Ten minutes later, I had the worst Asthma attack of my life. My particles are disturbed and it doesn't end with the bike.



I find no humor in the fact that my new TV is a container of volatile Plasma gas. Since I brought the new TV into my house nothing has been the same. It emits high EMF, which played havoc with my infra-red remote control system. My home theatre, which had worked perfectly for years, developed a series of symptoms, that no logical audio video tweak, could connect to the new television. My five year old DVD player will not sync to the new set. They are of different HDMI eras, and a digital hand shake is impossible, due to one pin in the new wires. For reasons that deny explanation, my powered sub woofer works only after I have decided it will never work again. Just like sub atomic particles, the act of observing them changes their behavior.



The Bike Chain Crew was last together at San Felasco, since then members have been randomly appearing and disappearing. Sometimes we run into people on the trail that didn't know about the ride. Sometimes people say they will ride and don't show up. Sometimes we all start rides together and finish in different places. Some members exist but are never seen. I can not take any more of the random disorder.



I could go on for hours (like Dennis Hopper at the end of Apocalypse Now) but I suspect that you too have disappeared and are in an alternate Blogiverse as we speak, even though you seem to be in this dimension, or else why would I be talking to you?



I long for the boredom that preceded this period of flux. If any of you see my lost particles appearing in an alternate state would you please send them home? I fear if it does not happen soon, I will cease to exist....if I ever did at all.



W.B.Z.N.

Needles and Pins

I have a lot of aches and pains. I can trace every phantom twinge to a past injury. My body is a time capsule of nerve portraits, of all the risks that didn't pay off. All the times the dice lied, the cards didn't come, and the inevitable moment when the chips drift away, as if by magic. These little reminders make me wonder, if there was ever a time I didn't carry some arthritic petroglyph, of a battle lost.

I love it when things are working. I believe that everything from bicycles to relationships, connect at the molecular level. How else could you explain how two guitars made on the same day, have such different voices? You throw a new surfboard in the ocean, and it glides like an arrow. A stolen glance, a sentence of small talk, and you meet your partner for life. Someone wasn't watching, their foot never touched the brake, and you never sleep through the night again. Door number one has a new car, number two has a goat. Roll the bones.

I was preoccupied with my issues when I pulled on the Lycra yesterday. I wondered if my back pain would return. I wondered if I had enough sunlight. I led a solo debate on which route would be best. I had ridden them all a thousand times. I searched for the combination that would open the lock. I fumbled for the keys. I stopped on the levy to stretch my aging neck. I opened and closed my hands, trying to squeeze away a lifetime of abuse and injury. I looked up and the sky was exploding. I couldn't look away. Suddenly the ride was not a worry or a plan. It was a moment, a memory, a picture, and a cure.

I rode home in no particular hurry, got to the tracks, and meandered back to the pavement. I forgot about my neck, my back and my hands. I couldn't remember what I was worried about. All those aches and pains are my badges of a life well lived. I remember how I earned them all. They are not ghosts of my failure. They are not my sins. They are the only memories worth having. The times when I risked it all for a frontside air, a crystal blue reef break, a bike race metal, or a multitude of dreams that never came true. They hurt and soothe in the same breath.

I will keep them all.

W.B.Z.N.