Singlespeed & Fixed Gear - notes about my freeday, playing hooky

It may be impossible to prove, either in a court of law or the Court of Philosophers throughout history, that crazy people are NOT in fact having a conversion with you when they appear to be talking to themselves; afterall, who is to say that eye contact alone only necessarily denotes that two people are in a conversation and who is to say that you can't also be a third in a conversation that also includes one of the voices in another person's head?
Breaking away at a stop sign or stoplight, arms lock, full force pumping forward may be one of the greatest natural highs know to man/woman.
Time to oneself may be the greatest single commodity lost in the hustle that is the contemporary economic high point that our country currently "enjoys" and it is absolutely free, gratis.
The stories of Sherman Alexie may be the funniest stories and most redeemingly pleasureable reads you can give yourself in these sad days of too much work and not enough time to reflect on your life.
It is massively fun to ride down Halsted street through Lincoln Park when you can ride super slow past trixies who are waiting for you to pass so they can park their Beamers and you go slower knowing that life is short and sweetest when you can irritate those you love to hate and that riding past them slowly makes life as sweet as it possibly can be at any given moment.
Sitting at a coffee shop eating one of the best cookies on the planet can be a paranoid experience when you start to imagine your coworkers walking onto the scene after you have called in sick for the day.
Sleeping in to 11am is totally underrated no matter how beautiful watching the sun rise may be.
Practising track stands all day will still not be enough to master track stands, damn it.

Breaking away at a stop sign or stoplight, arms lock, full force pumping forward may be one of the greatest natural highs know to man/woman.


To beat that, running full speed up to a red light praying for it to turn green getting to the crosswalk as it then turns green AND THEN HAVING A JET PLANE COME OVER BANKER HILL IN FULL THUNDER NOT EVEN 500 FEET UP and getting the thunder of the jet to your bones as you blast through the intersection just past the red light runners.

That is just about as good as yours.

Track stands:

My kryptonite as well.

To beat that, running full speed up to a red light praying for it to turn green getting to the crosswalk as it then turns green AND THEN HAVING A JET PLANE COME OVER BANKER HILL IN FULL THUNDER NOT EVEN 500 FEET UP and getting the thunder of the jet to your bones as you blast through the intersection just past the red light runners.

That is just about as good as yours.

Track stands:

My kryptonite as well.

Nope, yours is better.

very cinematic, i must say.

[reminds me of run lola run]

fssb
sparky

Breaking away at a stop sign or stoplight, arms lock, full force pumping forward may be one of the greatest natural highs know to man/woman.

Ever notice that when you do that, the car next to you that you just flew by has to pass you much quicker than they normally would just to show you that they are in fact faster than you?

WTF is that all about?

I think they feel threatened. Especially the ones in the tricked out Civic. You know the one with the Coffee can muffler and the high flow air filter. All that extra air going though the engine makes these cars SOOOO FAST! They must pass the cyclist so they know the hundreds of dollars they sank into high performance headlights didn't go to waste.

I really miss playing hooky from anything. Those were the days.
Beating cars off a light rocks, incredible, especially the look on the redneck's face as you blow past his diesel dually that he thinks is a very manly truck. Hey dude, you just got beat by a long haired guy on a bike, have a nice day.

I wish I could play hookey.

I wish I could do a track stand.

"Sitting at a coffee shop eating one of the best cookies on the planet can be a paranoid experience when you start to imagine your coworkers walking onto the scene after you have called in sick for the day."

Not quite as bad as calling in sick on a springlike winter day; and being captured by the noon newsteam as 'a cyclist taking advantage of this beautiful weather'.

Fortunately for me, no TVs in the office. Unfortunately for me, my wife was watching TV.

"Sitting at a coffee shop eating one of the best cookies on the planet can be a paranoid experience when you start to imagine your coworkers walking onto the scene after you have called in sick for the day."

Not quite as bad as calling in sick on a springlike winter day; and being captured by the noon newsteam as 'a cyclist taking advantage of this beautiful weather'.

Fortunately for me, no TVs in the office. Unfortunately for me, my wife was watching TV.


:roflmao:

Sounds like a scene from a John Hughs movie. But better.

Nice.

I love the feeling of coming up to a long line of cars at a stoplight, winding your way between the parked cars on the right and the stopped cars on the left and their always impatient and stresssed out drivers, trying not to hit the right-side mirrors with your elbows or bars, or squeezing "ever-so-carefully" so as not to "bump" or "scratch" the car that intentionally moved over to the right to try and box you out, at the same time looking for people in those parked cars just waiting to door you and then coming up to the light as it turns green...only to have to do it all over again at the next red light and so on, and so on...

I wish I could play hookey.

I wish I could do a track stand.

just be glad ya got a place to pee.

just be glad ya got a place to pee.


Everbody has a place to pee!

Late edition/question:


Riding fixed as hard as you can, until your leg muscles burn reminds me of riding when I was in Jr. High and time seemed endless and afternoons rolled on into a future that had an endless horizon of possibility and life on a bike makes he feel something like immortal. Anybody know this feeling?

Coming over a hill that has taken everything you have, to just crest it, and then there is that moment of satisfaction before you start to pick up the pace and spin ever faster in a death defying plunge downhill just like when you were 8 years old and rode your bike a far away distance from your home against your parents wishes and felt so exhilarated that you were finally free and on your own. That is what riding fixed gear means to me.

fixedgearhead

Late edition/question:


Riding fixed as hard as you can, until your leg muscles burn reminds me of riding when I was in Jr. High and time seemed endless and afternoons rolled on into a future that had an endless horizon of possibility and life on a bike makes he feel something like immortal. Anybody know this feeling?


Yeah when I am on my road bike I constantly think, what if I just left ? Just pick a road, stay on it and go as far as it will take me... its hard to make myself come back home sometimes (no family, no wife, no kids, just a job and school...). I always kind of fantasize about just doing that some day and winding up in Utah or something.

Coming over a hill that has taken everything you have, to just crest it, and then there is that moment of satisfaction before you start to pick up the pace and spin ever faster in a death defying plunge downhill just like when you were 8 years old and rode your bike a far away distance from your home against your parents wishes and felt so exhilarated that you were finally free and on your own. That is what riding fixed gear means to me.

fixedgearhead


I remember when I was 10 and mom said "You can ride out of the court now". I rode 22 miles one way from San Jose to Morgan Hill via Coyote Creek park and old Monteray Highway. I called from there and she freeked the **** out. So I asked her if she was coming to get me, and one of those uncomfortable silences came up. She never complained about where I rode, and I never asked for a ride.

Worked out great. We were strained at best anyway.

and one of those uncomfortable silences came up.

translation = "I can't wait till I get you home where I am gonna..."

translation = "I can't wait till I get you home where I am gonna..."

Pretty much, pretty f@cking much.

It may be impossible to prove, either in a court of law or the Court of Philosophers throughout history, that crazy people are NOT in fact having a conversion with you when they appear to be talking to themselves; afterall, who is to say that eye contact alone only necessarily denotes that two people are in a conversation and who is to say that you can't also be a third in a conversation that also includes one of the voices in another person's head?


someone once jokingly told me (or i read it somewhere) that crazy people who are seemingly talking to themselves are in fact having a converstion with another person across town, and if you could hear both ends of it it would actually be quite sane.

someone once jokingly told me (or i read it somewhere) that crazy people who are seemingly talking to themselves are in fact having a converstion with another person across town, and if you could hear both ends of it it would actually be quite sane.


hmmm... That sort of insanity may actually be quite sane. Now how I get those people to talk back to me?

Heck who isn't crazy? Functional that's the key. What's that mother? Kill them all?

Track stands, that's where you go slower and slower and the light doesn't change so you fall over, right? That's how i do it.

Heck who isn't crazy? Functional that's the key. What's that mother? Kill them all?

Track stands, that's where you go slower and slower and the light doesn't change so you fall over, right? That's how i do it.

I bet you can't out-cynical this: everybody's crazy because everbody keeps propagating the continuence of the human race on the planet.

That said: I want to make babies.

Track stands? Looks like we are pacing each other well.