|Wetlands next to the Verde River, Deadhorse State Park, Cottonwood AZ|
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
|Rainy bench and thought-trigger|
|Reflect and fill up|
|Mountain and tree, fog and water, basin and range: volume and void|
|A mountain not used to fog, but which wears it well|
It's time to crank up that quiet volume, and ride with it. I think it could involve cycling out to those places of volume and void, and jumping into them with enthusiasm, and with an open mind, to learn from them--they are without limits in what they might teach, I think. So try, stay strong in it, and do not be distracted by fleeting noise when something so much more is attainable.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Perhaps it's my slightly upright position due to the slightly swept back bars I'm trying out. Maybe it's my flashing rear light commanding attention. Maybe my bike-specific black jacket with the white reflective piping makes me look like a guy from the movie Tron in his headlights. I glance in the mirror again and he's still not coming around me. Guess we're all just waiting for the green.
|Bip with saddle bag mounted in the not-really bag loops|
Off the bike there's so much to do. The list is long and the time is short. On the bike there's only to ride, though, and in the night my attention seems to center even more by the singleness of purpose involved in pedaling through the dark.
|Sackville saddle bag mounted in the sorta-loops on the Specialized Sonoma Gel|
The Sackville has a rear tail light mount which points the light perfectly rearward, and for that I love it deeply. Many are the bags which I've tried which send red flashes every direction but straight back. At night, you see, it's all about the focus and the flow, and if I can ride in peace knowing that the machine is working well and silently, the bag is holding it's own, I'm learning about the mirror, and the lights are both helping me to see and to be seen, then my attention and my scattered thoughts can pull into the one-point singularity of purpose of my own motion. Alive at night I'm riding.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
|A stack of leather washers tensioned with three spokes between two handlebar binding rings|
These are Brooks Plump Leather grips, made from stacks of leather washers cut from scraps from fabricating saddles. I embrocated these with some Obenauf LP, tensioned them to what seemed like a reasonable adjustment although I admittedly lack previous experience in tensioning stacks of leather scrap washers with spokes to use as handgrips, and mounted them on the new-to-me bars.
|The bars are getting rotated into different positions until I find just the right one. This ain't it.|
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
|The monoliths from my earlier post about Red Bull Illume are lit up at night|
Large screens bearing sports-related images are lit up at night along the Scottsdale Waterfront now. My review: I like them. I'd like to say they are life-changing, or ennobling of the human spirit, or something similar, but having experienced something actually life-changing this week, unexpectedly, I am hesitant to call big screen TVs setup along the canal the same thing.
I happened to buy some leg compression sleeves at the GABA bike swap. They were cheap, I have been thinking about getting some on the outside chance they might help with my night time leg cramps, so I picked them up. Low, behold, my night leg cramps have been totally cleared up by wearing the compression leg sleeves a few hours before bed. Sleep is so much better when you don't get roused at 3am by a rigid, painful calf or foot cramp. Not totally sure what it means, medically speaking. My leg veins are apparently not efficient enough at clearing out the waste products from cycling 12 to 40 miles a day. The compression sleeves apparently help them out with that task.
I should probably speak with a medical professional further about this, I realize. I'll get to that eventually, in case something else is going on, but at the present moment, I'm just more or less ecstatic to make it through the night without a wicked foot cramp. Super-happy, in fact. So while the big old photos along the canal are nice, they aren't as nice as that, not life-changing. But, on the other hand, maybe I just need to spend a little more time with the photos to see deeper. Sometimes, working longer hours, I feel like a get a brain cramp. Maybe photos like this can serve as decompression sleeves for the mind.
|The big screens are watched day and night by security guys|
|I'm not sure if the images change over time or not. They stayed the same while I watched, any way.|
|They are arrayed in a line across the bridges, and stacked like cards along the path, appealing to my OCD|
Some of the photos are rocking action shots, while others are quieter, requiring some contemplation to appreciate. There are some benches set up nearby, for pausing, for reflecting, for considering. These light up when darkness falls. I'm not sure how late they stay on, but I'm thinking about stopping by here later on in the evening, when it's more likely that fewer people will be around, to sit and give the images a longer viewing. Perhaps while wearing my compression leg sleeves, in order to sleep clear until morning, having cleared waste products from both legs and mind.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
|Pre-dawn light on Picacho Peak on the drive to the swap, stunningly early in the morning|
If your main impression of Tucson is from going to several GABA bike swaps like mine is (view the whole glorious string of secondhand gear here), you would come away believing that the city is fit, friendly, and steeped in bicycle culture beyond other cities that I am more familiar with. It's an interesting way to distort my understanding of a city.
|Once more excellent coffee from the Peddler on the Path Mobile Cafe|
|The bike of the Gray Wolf, a highly modified 25th Anniversary Eddy Merckx AXM. Watch the video.|
|There's just the one shifter, since he moves the front chain by hand|
|I love it when GABA does their MEGA clearances and sells jerseys and stuff for $20. Get there early, though.|
|The nicest people at the swap in the Robdogs truck made this "Homewrecker" with jalapenos, chili, and cheese for me|
|I notice they still make the tricycles from steel and not carbon fiber. Just sayin.|
|These were not technically up for swappage, but they caught my eye just off the street|
|Parking Day, too. You know, I was so tired by this point that I couldn't even make a decent tandem joke|
|The weather was rocking and so was the crowd|
|I got a bunch of good stuff. Including 25 reflective bike stickers.|
I know that Tucson on Bike Swap day is not the whole of the place. In some ways, it's a temporary fiction constructed for the benefit of bicycle aficionados in search of bargains and dreams, put up for the day like an imaginary park in a parking space, then taken down that night, to be replaced by the normal workaday streets teaming with cars and trucks.
But when so many of us turn out for the swap, it not only reinforces my distorted view, but also pushes the warm attractive essence of the fiction few steps, or pedal turns, closer to reality. I'm not saying the real parts of it which do exist--all that bike stuff, the people who know and greet each other, the regulars you see every time, the actual bike knowledge and bike culture which are apparent and deep--are not substantial or significant; quite the opposite. They are intensely real. But concentrated, focused, amplified like this along a few streets on bright, warm morning after I've driven down there from Phoenix, it's overwhelming. You can't help but get carried away with it and think of Tucson as a place where lone gray wolves ride off fast into the desert while the streets are filled with people who love or are attached to bikes for many different reasons. You just have to arrive before the sun comes up to watch it unfold fully, and also to get the best bargains.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
|The black monoliths appeared suddenly, and except for a single radio burst at Jupiter, have been silent|
An array of dark, wired monoliths appeared suddenly and without warning on the path along the Scottsdale Waterfront.
Closer examination shows they have something to do with the nighttime display of compelling images. They are part of Redbull Illume, which I assume means that it's a simulation of how the inside of my eyes look, and how my mind feels, at 3am if I consume energy drinks.
|New motto for this blog: THE QUALITY OF THESE IMAGES IS REALLY QUITE MIND BLOWING|
I can drink a couple pots of coffee in the morning and still sleep well that night, but for whatever reason, energy drinks tend to leave me sleepless and wired in the middle of the night. I put that down to a personal insufficiency in metabolizing their key ingredients in a timely manner. So I tend to stay with coffee as my energy drink of choice.
I imagine that riding a bicycle past these at night will be REALLY QUITE MIND BLOWING.