skitbraviking

"Taking your work home with you" after 10.5 hours of work.
Ten minutes after I get home, out I go on my fixie.
The world is all around.

Add to the thread below.

pitboss

From my ride after work today:

Porofsky
Schulman
Gordon
Barr
Kreitman
Cemeteries are the worst places to try and learn names. But I wasn't there to learn anything new, just to remember.
This past Sunday, I called Jeff to see how his trip to Taiwan was, but I actually wanted to call him and brag about my new tat. All that aside, we fell into conversation ranging from the upcoming Effigies 'reunion' show to a brief discussion about where I am staying currently: 35 miles northwest of the heart of Chicago. Jeff brought up a now dead friend of ours, Joel, and that he is buried not too far from where I live now. Joel had been buried at Shalom Cemetery and I decided to ride there today.
Last I saw Joel was around 2 years ago in the city on my ride in to work. He was working as an electrician and seemed to be doing well. His mohawk was long gone, but the same person I met at The Metro in 89 was still inside. We exchanged phone numbers and decided to get together in a couple of weeks. I found out 8 days later that Joel OD'd on cocaine and herion.
So here I am standing near a pond in the cemetery, failing to remember his last name. Not that I would ask to see were he is buried - I didn't come here for that. I pick up a small stone and toss it into the pond. My way of saying, "Joel, I was here too."

cyclorat

the first day in ages with a dispatcher that doesnt suck. get a line, flow around, call in clean, joke on the radio, have crazy moments, burn thru a tire and get offered a new one for free, have a car run, see the sears tower get struck by lightining while floating down upperrandohlph hill, duck into lower wacker when the rain starts, pop out just as the rain stops, by luck, ride crazy and free...

it was a good day today.

and no coasting, no brakes :-D

habitus

24th ave.

when i moved to seattle about a year ago, i knew it was going to be tough. i knew where i would be living, and knew where i'd be working/schooling. the former location being close to the highest natural point in the city, the latter being at the bottom. a good 500ft elevation change. going down would be tough, but coming up would be tougher. it's not just the hill, either; it's the cars. it's the buses. it's the people who can't share the road.

the first couple of times were epic. i've never spun so fast, never cranked so hard. it wasn't pretty. it just wasn't natural! it had to get easier.

it did.

one of the problems is that picking up speed at the bottom doesn't really matter because the hill is so damn long. nonetheless, i get a high cadence going as i approach the bike shop at the bottom at which i'll often stop for a breather and some shop talk on the way home. not today though. as i begin my ascent i think about my checkpoints along the way. make it to interlaken. then make it to crescent. then make it to the steep curve in the road where i've almost been sqeezed onto the cracked an uneven sidewalk.

at interlaken i start to think about getting off the saddle. nah. it doesn't matter. i don't need to. stay on it and pull up on the bars. clipless is good. gotta use all you've got right now. hit crescent. think about pulling off and circling around for a few. nah. it doesn't matter. i don't need to. shove my water tube between my lips and keep pumpin'. finally, hit the curve. can't look back, can't look ahead. i look down. the sweat is taking my glasses down with it. think about getting off the saddle again. yep. it matters. i need to.

2 out of 3 ain't bad.

auk

A few cups of coffee and out the door with an effortless glide into the pedals only to meet that moment in the morning as the sun is cresting above the tree line and you slide through the dense morning air. Nothing moving but your shadow and the silent glide of fixie across the pavement.

Dave

danielmolloy

Riding home at 2am through downtown Munich, out past city limits, through the countryside. No streetlights, just the reflection of the moon off the fields, the quiet breeze, and the noise of my tires. Completely silent drivetrain, and a mystical feeling as I pedal effortlessly in the darkness. I wish I could go for 50k like this, but alas, the house is only 15k away. Riding at night is absolutely the best.

absntr

Night is the best, indeed. Post band practice, usually Monday and Wednesday nights I leave the space at Superior/Chicago/California and cut through the Puerto Rican neighbourhood, watching the wannabe G's on the corner, the lady tending her Supermercado's fruit crates and passing old timers sitting on stoops. I make my way across Western down Division and cross into different territory, pass the superfuturistic hospital (Saint Mary of Nazareth) and now onto hipster Division marked by funky boutiques, coffee shops, sushi joints and brunch places. I people watch keeping the stroke smooth till I hit Damen. I make the turn and run it all the way to THE corner, Damen/North/Milwaukee. I almost always catch the light here and wait. For a few minutes it's people watching heaven, as they pour out of the Double Door, Filter or Red Dog.

Light's a go and I cut down Damen into Bucktown where it's been turning yuppie, shouting at the odd valet parker or the silly pedestrian who has now decided that this is a good time to step out into the bike lane and get their toes run over or an elbow in their face. I zone out though, these things pass like drops. I just concentrate on the ride, down Webster and then into Lincoln Park all the way to home, two blocks of Wrigley Field. If the Cubs just played I'm weaving and cutting through drunk Cubs fans not giving a rats arse and just playing with them, purposely riding by close so they know to look where they're going. I pull up outside my apartment, still watching the Cubs fans walking by. If it's a quiet night I sit on the stoop in the courtyard and take a quick breather - I'm sweating nice and hard, feeling alive, feeling good.

MKRG

I am not timid.
I am not afraid.
This is MY city.
This is MY street.
You will do as I say.
I own the night.
Sometimes they don't listen, sometimes they do.
Every day, every night I grow stronger while they gut rot in their mobile seclusion.
Life is better when there is no glass barrier between you and the world.
"Get off the road!" "**** you!"

HereNT

Leapfrogging with a bus down a mostly empty Nicollete Ave. on a steamy august morning after the worst night I've had at work in a long, long time. Seeing 3 pretty bike commuters on the way. Feeling like the sweat I am coated in washed away some of last night.

Sitting down to bikeforums and jameson afterwards.

Schiek

DC has great traffic circles. It's the Parisian influence that our forefathers seemed to dig. I used to think the best part about traffic circles, and being on a bike, was that instead of having to go 3/4 of the way around to your street, you could bomb through them clock-wise (against traffic) and put a couple blocks on traffic as they made their way around the circle. Now I ride with traffic. Flying in and out of the fray when you know the cars can't go but so fast, and--for once--are more concentrated on trying to figure out what lane they are supposed to be in than effing with you is liberating. Lean to the left and blast full speed ahead...lights and lanes be damned. Watching the sprinters in the Olympics come off the turn in the 200m race reminded me of riding through Logan Circle on my way to work each morning.

jfmckenna

and round and round you go. you can sense the proportions. the birds are massing on the wires now. time to go. nothing. looking through the glass you see the safety or the danger. one more turn into a sunset of freedom.

Mayonnaise

turn into the tailwind at Chicago and Kedzie for the last leg home to 51st, it's rush hour, spinning 125-130, poverty thickens, black guy in mocking white guy voice says "hello officer Bob" which means only time a white guy comes in this neighborhood he's a cop, moving as fast as traffic, decide to take the whole lane if I can maintain speed, not a shout, not a honk, not a fist in anger taunt me, earning their respect the motorists yield, on that sunny afternoon southbound Kedzie, from Odgen to 51st is owned by a guy on a fixed gear bicycle.

gilby

I keep encountering the same kid on my Sunday night ride home...I get the feeling that he waits for me to come by. I can't help wondering why he's out after dark in this neighborhood with no helmet or lights; he's maybe 9 or 10 years old at the most, riding a BMX. Still, this has become my favorite part of the ride home. He rides as fast as he can with me, from the sidewalk on the other side of the street, for about 15 blocks. I stop at reds, he doesn't, and my downhills on the fixed gear bike give him another chance to catch up and even pull in front of me from time to time. Still, we hit the same hill the last 5 blocks of my commute and I leave him behind on my climb. One of these days, though, he's going to pass me, and that will make my evening.

*new*guy

ate too many clif bars
but who could resist?
they were on sale at the LBS
so i clench another in my fist
peel back the wrapper
and yield with dismay
get my ass to the crapper
too much fiber today