Red Dragon Dammit!

Credit is due where credit is due. Bike Chain wheelie dropped the end of Cadillac today. Which was cool but, the ensuing adrenaline dump, and the super hero powers he had for the next hour were priceless.

So here's to you Red Dragon, nice one Bro! I am a supporter of the grand gesture. The heads were shaking, the boys were laughing, and we all did stupid shit trying to make ourselves feel better that we didn't ride that drop.

Logs were rolled, balance beems were parked on, then ridden, (by some of us sorry M-dub). End of the day, and you can't imagine how queezy this makes me, Bike Chain (.com-visit often-) won the day.

There I said it.

Ba, Bye, now

W.B.Z.N.

I sat in the waiting room reading three year old dirt rags. The others paced and chewed their nails. Not me, I was in, Pete was working on my brakes and that could only mean one thing: I would have to be careful not to go over the bars when I squeezed the levers. Yup, good ole Pete would put the mojo on.

It was best if you didn't talk when he brought your bike out. If you made any sudden movements, he would explain that whole inertia gravity equation. He once made me calculate what my tire pressure would be if I was riding on the moon. I had to take a vacation day.

The silence was broken, everyone looked at Pete. His face was sullen as he placed his hand on my shoulder.

"It'll work for a while but....it's not good."

I felt the Amex in my pocket skip a beat.

"What, what is it?" I asked with the trust of a child.

"Well you need new cranks, your middle ring looks like you have been sharpening your lawn mower blade on it, and the cassette is now and eight track.....of The Village People."

His eyes turned away and he took a deep breath, even professionals get shaken.

"Your chain...." He shook his head and took out a NASA certified chain thingy, measuring, dealie. He twisted some knobs and then held it up to my left eye. I tried not to flinch.

"Uh, what am I looking at Pete?" I said like a Wakulla guy at a Democratic rally.

"You see the blue and the red and how the little arrow is pointing to the middle of the red?"

"Yes." I said, like Igore submitting to Frankenstein.

"Blue is good and,..."

"Red is bad...?" I grunted, trying not to drool.

"Brakes, cranks, chain, cassette, $700.00 installed."

He pushed my bike to me and I turned to leave the waiting room. The others just looked away.

W.B.Z.N.

Poles

I haven't surfed since pipeline came to Mexico Beach via Katrina. I caught ten waves that day. I only got to the bottom of three, of those I made one. Seeing Big Worm scared to death and our buddy Loui go over the falls was worth the trip.
This was Jax yesterday. Head high, perfect and cold. I wasn't there. I am thinking about surfing and days gone by. Fifteen years ago, nothing would have stopped me from being in this picture. Hopefully the neck will the thaw out this spring and I will get a few. Even though I haven't been a core surfer for many years, I still mourn every swell that that breaks without me.
W.B.Z.N.

Could Be Worse, Could Be Raining!

Yes that's me, El Salvador 2004. Click on it, it's undeniable. The weak chin, wide stance, it's all me.
I never would be so vain as to publish a photo of myself, even one with a great cut back, but Juancho called me a liar. That is in between complaining about the pace, the bad weather and the length of the ride. You have to love a guy that invites you on a ride when it's raining and then spends the next hour talking about how hungry he is.
w.b.z.n.

Solo

Being alone in any endeavor is a tad duanting. There is no one to compare to. I am sure Jill, up in Alaska, would find my situation funny, but adventure is relative. If you have never been on a bike, and you roll to the end of the driveway with a higher heart rate, isn't that a first ascent?

I have been doing a lot of solo night rides out at Fern, Tom Brown, and Cadillac. I am trying to stretch out my comfort zone.

The other solo flight I am plotting is the music stuff. Before, I had a ton of people I could bounce ideas off of. Much like the real estate business, there has been a mass exodus. When things were easy, everyone was anwsering the phone and getting checks. You couldn't throw a rock (even in Tallahassee) without hitting a music professional. In 2003, I had a surreal experience at Floyds. I walked outside to use my phone. I was in the company of four other people, all managers for bands playing that night. All of us were on the phone, equally serious, talking for our bands. The funny thing was, we were the only band with a record deal and the rest were local openers. It made me question the validity of what I was doing. Maybe we were all "playing manager"?

Last night I got to the levy a lot later than I wanted to. On my way back in I had to turn my light on much sooner than usual. I am always on fern before I run out of light. For the whole ride back to T.B. the guy in the hockey mask was behind me reving his chainsaw.

I had a similar dilemma (I won't bore you with) that was equally scary. My instinct was to call the old stand by's in New York, not an option. If only I had a light that would make this ride a little easier. I guess that's the reason for the high heart rate. Cool.... Adventure here I come.

Trends

I am seeing a pattern developing here.

Blairstone Road

If you want to die, I mean really end your life, this is the place ot make it happen. Everyday on my way to work I see people that have to have their car in the bike lane. This guy set a new record 13 times in and out of the lane. In this shot you can almost see all of the car in front of him.

I have been toying with the idea of selling one of our cars, and riding everyday to work. This is the nightmare bike commuters face. Where do you get the guts to commute on a road with no lanes?

Food for thought.

WB.Z.N.