Friday, April 30, 2010

An Inexplicable Procession of Bicycles and Police Suddenly Appeared




They Came Out of Nowhere


A Procession of Bicycles and Police on Bicycles






And Joggers and Kids and More Police on Bikes




And Stingrays and Springrays




And More Police on Bikes




And I Thought, Surely They Will Bear a Sign of Some Sort to Explain It All




No Sign Did They Bear But Two Wheels and A Road to Ride Down



Probably some unannounced or barely publicized end of Bike Month. Ride on, police-escorted runners and cyclists! Have a splendiferous Friday y'all! Get up. Go ride ride ride.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Stand By Me

Park Tool PCS-10: Meet the Trek 950


I just bought a Park Tool PCS-10 (PCS-9 + 1) repair stand. I already own a Topeak Prepstand Max, which supports the bike underneath the bottom bracket, which works pretty well, except for bikes with short pedal axles, or with cables that run under the bottom bracket and have a protruding thingy that carries them around the corner. Some of my bikes stand just fine on the Topeak (the Trek, for example), and some don't work at all on it for the above reasons (Yasuko, for example). The Prepstand has held up over time, folds up nicely into its carrying bag, and is pretty light in weight. In comparison, and I didn't really realize the magnitude of this difference between the two until I unpacked the PCS-10, the blue stand from Minnesota is a beefy hunk of steel that appears to have been designed to last forever. And the Park clamp rotates around and holds different sizes and shapes of tubes. It's easy to adjust and use, and holds the bike very securely. I mean, it is rock solid. If I put it outside in tonight's 20mph winds, I would have no concerns about it blowing over. Check out this picture of the hunk of steel at the base:

A Stand That Inspires Confidence


It is possible with the Topeak to get the bike into a position such that the stand feels unstable. For example, I learned not to take off the front wheel of the bike when it was mounted in the Prepstand Max without positioning one leg of the tripod under the rear of the bike, else the stand would tip over. Not a huge fault of the stand, really, since it's just a matter of knowing how to use it, and if you needed to carry it a long way, kind of a bonus that it's so light in weight. But since it is so much heavier, the Park Tool stand seems more stable. I may still figure out a way to make it unstable, but on a flat surface under normal use I don't see how. And since I don't plan to carry it very far very often, heavier works. And when I'm done using it, it still folds up into a more compact package that's easy to store. Very happy with the purchase so far. I'll report back in a year or so on it, assuming it lasts that long, and it probably will. Get up. Go ride.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

A Bike, A Park, A Kid, A Dog and A Kite on a Windy Day

The Dog Became Invisible When I Pressed The Shutter Button


That's a recipe for fun right there. It's cheap, it's healthy, it's a good experience. Although that kite looks like it might carry that kid away in this wind. Which would also be an experience. 15mph headwind with gusts of 25. That's kite weather, and an extra special workout on your commute home. Get up. Go ride.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

A Mystery with Three Bike Signs

pure fiction follows


Bike Storage Location on Phoenix Light Rail


I looked for the bicycle symbol as the train came to a stop, then rolled my ride through the doors and to the location with the hooks. There was one other bike already hanging there, a rusted old French road bike that looked like some old guy's weekend project. It was in tough shape. As the train started moving, the corroded chain of the bicyclette slipped off and clattered to the ground. I looked expectantly at the old guy sitting across from it, thinking he would reach over and pick it up, but instead, a woman around my age, wearing a tight-yet practical ensemble in black and green that somehow matched her makeup perfectly slid in, snapped up the chain, and sat down next to me. Initial impression: the bike wasn't hers. Processing: of course it's hers, but I didn't give the processing enough time to complete. "That's not your bike, is it?" I said, I a half-second too fast. She looked at the battered cruisemuter with fenders and rack hanging next to the bicyclette, and then at me, and said, "That one is definitely yours." It should have been easy for me to take the slight put-down, and strike up a conversation about bikes, but I was exhausted from a tough week at the grindstone, and she seemed wrapped up in her iPhone, of all things. She reminded me of someone. My stop came soon enough, and I rose to get my bike. She stood up at the same time.



The Button


She unhooked the bicyclette and set it down as if it were weightless, with a practiced movement of unconscious smoothness. I reached up to unhook the cruisemuter, but just as I took its weight, something about the way she moved grabbed my attention, and I turned my head to watch her go. As I did so, the bike hook snagged some of the spokes of my front wheel, and with a practiced movement of unconscious smoothness, I turned at the hips to set the bike down, and ripped the spokes right out of the rim. That wasn't as hard as it might sound: the rims on the cruisemuter were older, and I had noticed a few cracks around the nipples anyway. 

I rolled my crippled steed off the train just as the doors were closing, and bent to review the damage. Two ripped-out spokes, along with a third that looked damaged. So much for an easy ride downtown and around the park to get some video for the blog. I was going to have to take it to a bike shop to fix the wheel first. Fortunately, the Greasy Porcine shop was within (long) walking distance, or a short ride on the metro. I looked around for the woman with the bicyclette, to see if perhaps she knew of a closer shop, thinking she might be headed there to fix her ride.


I Yield to Bicycles

I caught up to her and asked her if she was going to the Greasy Porcine, or somewhere else, to get the chain of the bicyclette fixed. She said she was, but that she was supposed to meet a friend in this neighborhood who knew bikes, and who would go along with her to the shop to talk turkey with them. After a few moments of walking around, though, and looking at her iClock, she said, "It looks like he stood me up again. I'm sure he'll have a great excuse. Now what."

"I have to go to the Porcine now, too, why don't we go together?" She looked at my bike again, and I wondered if it really mattered to her that much what I happened to be riding at the moment. Would she have a different opinion if I had my carbon fiber road bike? What would she think about my mountain bike? My single speed? "Sure," she replied, "But stay away from my spokes."

One of the broken ones on my wheel had bent around and was preventing the wheel from turning, so I knelt next to it to twist around a nearby brother for safekeeping. "Hey, I know a good coffee shop on the way, you want to get an espresso?" It sounded so good when I said it. I could almost taste and smell it beforehand. But she didn't answer. I had some trouble getting the spoke to stay wrapped around its neighbor--I would bend it around, and it would spring back just enough to unwind and pose further blocking, so I tried again, finally just bending it more and weaving it through some of the inner parts of the wheel.

When I stood up, she was gone. I couldn't imagine where she had gone, or why. All I did was ask her about coffee. I reached down for the "Bicycle Use Push Button". She reminded me of someone. Maybe if I rolled back and took the metro, I could still catch up to her at the shop.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Flow Circles Part 1

My hand flaps out with a jerk to signal a turn, abrupt, without grace, uncool, and launches a thought train that chugs all day long. I wish for my hand signal motion to flow smoothly, apparently without effort, with ease and flow, not to appear as if I am suffering from some disease of poor coordination while swatting at flies only I can see. "Hey, he's turning right, and enjoying the ride," my gesture should shout, rather than, "Whoa, that guy can barely stay upright, let alone pedal and signal simultaneously." My right turn like the dance of one of those traffic wardens standing on the island directing traffic: smooth, practiced, focused, effective: a turn signal by Aikido master Ueshiba, perhaps, one that causes the grass on the far curb to rustle as the waves of ki flow out of it.




Flow Like This

Like Usain Bolt, from 4.6 seconds through the finish: an effortless application of motion beyond comprehension, yet possible, because someone is doing it. Not his speed (which is incredible), but his grace, power, rhythm and flow. Except on my bike, signaling a turn. THAT I should be able to do smoothly, without effort, with practiced ease and effective skill, minimal extraneous motion, in a dance-like manner, while spinning almost circles with my flow-aiding Biopace chainrings.

  Flow Free My Oblong Toothy Chain Eaters


I thought of various forms of the smooth flow I seek, but it is seldom seen. I could not think of any machine examples all day, since most machine motion actually breaks down into herky-jerky, stop/start cycles, like nearly all the machines depicted in one of my favorite movies, Koyaanisqatsi,  a movie without plot or dialog, consisting of various gorgeous photographic sequences set to the music of Phillip Glass. Then I recalled the unforgettable (for me) ending of that movie, which comes very close in the unintentional aerial ballet of the first Atlas-Centaur rocket exploding on May 9, 1962. I thought, put that on the blog, find that clip and use it to show what you are thinking about today. And then I found that, for whatever reason, MGM had posted the entire movie on Youtube. So that's below. Watch the whole thing, or at least click it and jump to 1:16:00, although you miss the whole atomic age threat machine domination life out of balance point that the movie pounds home if you just go to the breathtaking exploding rocket. But, as I'm out their pedaling away, always enjoying the ride, I need something: one perfect pedal stroke, round, effortless, pure, a flowing circular expenditure of muscle energy which could not have been better. One perfect ride, perfectly in balance. Don't know if I'll ever achieve that. But I know how to try: Get up. Go ride.
 

Go Ahead: Watch It. You May Cry at the End

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Bike Fuel: Today's Ride Powered by Leftovers from Tommy V's




Pasta of the Gods


I was kicking around plans for this morning. Another ride on the Trek? Art ride? More endless bike wrenching? Then, I found inspiration on my own blog, in the form of The Cheesy Chips Ride: sometimes, you need brain fuel to figure out what to do next, and to do it well, and I remembered the leftovers from our family night out to Tommy V's last night.

So, a brief digression on Tommy V's. Check out the menu on the page linked above. The leftover Spaghetti and meatballs was amazing. When I bit into one of those meatballs dusted with the freshly grated parmesan, I recognized that they had been created by a meatball master: the main flavor is in fact, meat, complemented by subtle spices that amplify the meat flavor, and it wasn't buried in fennel or other flavors. When you take a bite of this dish, you realize the glory of basic food cooked with a very high level of skill and care: handmade fresh pasta, tomatoes with garlic, meat, Parmesan. This is not a paid review, of course, the family and I went there for dinner last night, and loved it. The Osteria board comes with the day's pick of meats (we had prosciutto and sliced spicy sausage), cheeses, bruschetta, and warm olives. "V's Kick Ass Burger" is made from an unlikely combination of short rib, brisket, and Kobe beef ground up together, and it is of high rank in the pantheon of burgers. I had to force myself to try something other than the burger, because I tend to be a repeat-orderer when I find something I love. Tommy V's is a JR Alpha recommended stop if you're in Phoenix.

So, filled with happy memories of good food and leftovers of same, I mounted up the Trek burple bike (I will come up with a better name eventually, don't worry, but I swear to you that the color morphs from purple to blue and back depending on the light or my mood or something) and headed to Papago Park for some fun trail riding. Why Papago Park?


  Why Papago Park You Ask?

I went out there because it's been a long time since I rode a bicycle on those trails, and I was looking for something novel, yet undemanding, for continued testing of the no-suspension Trek. I had so much fun on it yesterday that I put my favorite set of Eggbeater pedals on it this morning. It had to pass yesterday's ride test to deserve wearing them. 

I wasn't looking for an easy ride today because I was feeling lazy, but because I have an injury that is slowing me down a bit. It's completely unimportant what the injury actually is, except that it does kind of hurt on rougher trails for longer stretches, so thus, Papago seemed to fit what I needed. It's within reasonable riding distance of my house, so I rode to the ride and then went through and around most of the park. It's almost silly how many trails are out there; it's kind of one big tangle of paths. No big hills or anything hard, although there are some fun, fast swoopy sections, and since I haven't been out there in a loooooong time, some fun surprises that were like reminders of long-lost adventures. I used to live nearby, and ran, hiked, and sometimes biked around this area often. I had a laugh when I crested the first hill and found a bicycle rack at the top. I shot some video, below, which shows some of the faster sections near the end. Get up. Go ride.

 

Saturday, April 24, 2010

PHX Trail 100 on a 16 Year Old Burple Mountain Bike: No Springs Attached




Ready for the Shakedown


After working for a few hours on adjusting, recabling and lubing the 16 year old mountain bike I just picked up, it seemed like it was time for a shakedown ride, to see what it is made of. Or rather, since it is made of the sweet hand-welded triple-butted OX steel that I was looking for, would it live up to my expectations on the trail? Except for the tires (more about those in a sec), the new cables, and the grips, it's stock. It's name is "Singletrack". It's styled a "mountain bike". So, here was my thought process:
 

1) It's a mountain bike
2) I can see a mountain with trails all over it
3) Go ride


I know it wasn't thought out very carefully. But screw it, it's Saturday morning, I need some coffee, I have a mountain bike, there's the mountain, let's ride, was how it went. I stopped at Trailhead Bike cafe for some espresso, then, suitably fueled, went to the trail.



The Mountain in Question


I've ridden 100 a couple of times on bikes without suspension before. I rode Yasuko, without a rack, out here once, and it was pretty harsh without a suspension fork. She's got a nice steel frame, but it's not something I want to ride on trail 100 very often. These previous experiences lead me to have some misgivings about riding the Trek out here, but I've already explained by reasoning, above. So, how did it go?

Made for Mountains


It was a great ride. The frame and fork felt very forgiving and comfortable on the rocky portions, and I let my knees, thighs and arms absorb the larger bumps. I didn't take any big drops or anything (OK maybe one medium drop), because that's not really my thing, but wow it was fun. It was a good workout for my muscle-springs, to be sure, but riding to the trail at Dreamy Draw, then down to Tatum and home again, was a complete blast (JR Alpha ride-to-the ride rule in practice). Now to the tires: I think many people want the tires on their mountain bikes to look rugged, knobby, and traction-y. Kind of a corollary to people who believe that street bikes need crappy front suspension forks. The tires I put on this bike to replace the trashed stock Big Kahunas are WTB Nanoraptors, viewed with scorn by pretty much everyone, I suspect, since they aren't knobby enough to impress people impressed by knobs, and are too cheap and low-end for hardcore mountain goats. But they were perfect for me today, very sure-footed and hooked up through turns, but fast on the straight sections as well as the street. I've ridden much knobbier Continentals and WTB tires on these trails, but the low, plentiful knobs on these really surprised me with how well they performed in the dust and rocks. I was running them at about 50 psi, which was still a little harder than would have been comfortable, but it worked.



Singletrack Indeed


The last stretch just behind the photo above was the most challenging, and also the most fun, the downhill loose rocky run to Tatum. You ride it one way on a bike with suspension, and a different way when you have no springs. You seek out a different line, care a little more about where the wheels are about to go, and have to keep your hands and arms really loose to soak up the bumps. I need more practice at it, since I definitely caught myself tensing up, holding on too tight, self-defeating my control and flow by stiffening up and grabbing too much brake. But the good news is, she forgave me my shortcomings, and carried me home with a smile on my face. Wait, did someone say more practice would be required? Maybe I should fill up the water bottle and get back out there. Get up. Go ride.
 

Friday, April 23, 2010

Commuting and Computing



Cargo Drama in the Desert


On the uncommon occasions that I take the laptop home from work, it gets strapped to the rack, as in the photo. I believe at the moment I took the photo, I was thinking of something along the lines of a connectedness between the Pony Express people in the "Passing the Legacy" statue and me commuting by bike with my computer. Mammal-powered cargo carrying or something like that. But, that's kind of a stretch. Then I remembered that the stations were 10 miles apart on average, which means that I commute a little farther each day than a pony in the express usually galloped between stations. They were all about speed and carrying the mail from point A to point B, while I am just out to enjoy the ride. So my analogy would have been pretty stretched out, but then it is a pretty long distance from this location of this monument in Scottsdale, Arizona to the actual route of the Pony Express, which went through Utah and Nevada 1860-61, so some elongation of perspective is perfectly in order. In fact, one commonly used search and mapping engine suggests this novel 729 mile, three day route to ride a bike from this spot to the historic Pony Express route. If you can ride 729 miles in three days on bike, you should be the freaking Pony Express. I don't think I would try to take the computer on that trip. Get up. Go ride.  

Sign Sign Everywhere a Sign

Do This Don't Do That

Peace Bicycling People
Make Circles Not War
Go For a Ride and Think it Over First
Pedals and Petals
Get Up Go Ride Far Out

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Virga at the End of the Mind




Virga, Wind, Palm



The palm stands on the edge of space
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.  
-from "Of Mere Being" by Wallace Stevens







Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Vector Control to Major Tom

Where Aedes vexans fear to tread


The first time I noticed this object (or rather, one very much like it) hanging in this tree, I was really curious about what it was, and how it worked. In the comments for that post, John was helpful in confirming that it is a flying insect catcher, but catch how? Placed by whom? For what purpose? All it took to unlock the answers were the four little letters on the sign above, and some focused Internet searching. It is an Encephalitis Vector Surveillance (EVS) trap, used to catch mosquitoes in the bag, which is then taken to a lab, analyzed, and the results used to determine what chemicals to use where and when. There's a great, if slightly slow-performing, map, here, which shows where all the traps are placed. Wow that's a lot of traps, spread in a methodical manner you must admit. And there's a sister page to that one which describes the type of beasties being trapped, and what they can carry, here. Those two sites took about four seconds to find, of course, once I had "MCES" to go by, but what the heck is the cooler on the top for? That took a little more hunting, but I determined that the trap is baited with dry ice, which sublimates and releases carbon dioxide, which the little flying disease-carrying blood suckers cannot resist. Then the little blue fan blows them into the bag. Take that, avid buzzing vectors of doom! I snort in your general direction derisively. You have to excuse this little diversion on bug traps. I had to know. Now I do, and can ride in peace. Get up. Go ride.       

Out of Filters: When It All Comes Crashing Down



The Horror. The Horror. Emergency Ride to the Filter Store

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Scottsdale Water Mark Followup


Scottsdale Water Mark, w/ Copy-Flip



 
Aluminum Horse, from Underneath Indian Bend Road


 Check Out the Lines on That One


Last time I was out this way, egrets were prowling around the neighborhood, these steeds still wore scaffolding, and some of their forelegs hung in mid-air, defying gravity. Now the scaffolding is gone, so are the egrets, and their forelegs are safely anchored with cement and brackets, waiting for the flood. It looks like the lights are also installed in the bases, but that will need a night ride to suss out. But, you are surely wondering, when will the flood come, when will the water roar through these beasts? That's up to the weather, and snow melt, and SRP, and so forth, but I nominated a faithful sentry to keep watch for when the waters rise. I'll keep my eyes to the skies, and if/when the floods come, will try to get back out here in time. Get up. Go ride.


  The Sharp-eyed Heron Keeps Watch

Monday, April 19, 2010

The Big Kahunas Have Seen Better Days

The Last Ride of the Big Kahunas


For the most part, I think people who ride bicycles fall into two categories: those who put on new tires too often, and those who never put on new tires. You know which you are. I tend to put on new tires too soon. Which is wasteful. One little hole, or sidewall scuff, or other minor abrasion, is no reason to discard a perfectly good tire. Unless you have torn off a three inch slice of rubber all the way through the tread and threads, allowing the inner tube to herniate outwards when you pump air into the tire, a little nick in the rubber is probably the least of your worries. On the other hand, the Big Kahunas that came on my GABA bargain bike have seen far better days. These tires are about fifteen years old. Cracked, roughed up, sidewall sliced up, with lugs torn off and more falling off just by touching them, it's time to put on some new rubber. So as part of the general cleanup, tuneup, fixup, and refurbishment, so long, Big Kahunas. Along with new tires, she's getting some new cables, new lube all around, adjustments, trued wheels, new grips, and a replaced shifter. And that seems to be all that she needs to be transformed into a forest service road rampaging mad woman. The cries of the crazy burple bike screaming maniacally will be heard along the Tonto National Forest or Coconino National Forest roads this summer. A legend is born. Get up. Go ride.    

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Tucson GABA Bike Swap Spring 2010: Swapilicious!


I Remember My First GABA Bike Swap


Imagine the wide-eyed lad from Phoenix, driving down Tucson way, seeking a classic steel mountain bike, but not having much to pay. He arrives in the wee dawn hours, digs through random crap, gawks at the happy bike people, then BAM! CRACK! WAP! Turning round a corner, we spied her steely hue, calling out BUY ME!, a rigid Trek in icy blue.

She is Mine for a Song


 This is What I Came For. Left with Same.


 Lots of Other People Came to Swap it Up


 A List, and a Kiss


 I But I'm Wow Look They Wuh Huh... Oh Man....


 He Plots Bike Polo Domination via Superior Fork Selection


 The Essence and Challenge of the Swap: Treasure, or Crap?

It was a commando run to Tucson since the pilot needed to be back to wage battle on the field of bike polo. But, we got there early, made a couple of trips up and down the street, skimmed off what was for us the cream of the crop, and headed home with a car full of treasure, and very similar-looking steel Trek mountain bikes. I left, feeling much the same satisfaction as a good VNSA Book sale, but feeling the same sneaking suspicion: is there a secret swap-before-the-swap, where the insiders gather to show each other their boxes of random crap, their sweet stripped frames and classic unbreakable components the night BEFORE the public, we the little people, get access? Maybe, maybe, but on the other hand, I think if you get there early, and catch people putting stuff out, you might just get the deal of the decade. The democracy of the open street market was in full swing out there. You can get anything you want at the GABA Tucson Bike Swap. Bring cash. Arrive early. Get up. Go ride.   

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Saturday in the Park

Me and Z

Saturday morning: track down and fix annoying and unacceptable whining sound coming from computer audio. Source turned out to be the onboard Ethernet, somehow, so went to the computer parts storage area, retrieved and installed gigabit card, disabled onboard Ethernet, no more whining. Installed new 1TB Caviar Black hard drive, cloned old drive, ran Windows Experience refresh, new disk transfer rating: 5.9. As it should be. Daughter suggested we go to park, read, play, and ride around. Agreed. We went to the park, rode around, played, and read. Returned home, posted to blog about how great Saturday has been so far, refilled water bottle, got single speed bike out, go hit the canal for a 30 mile ride. That and a good luck kiss from my love as I go out the door is all that I require from a Satuday. Get up. Go ride.

 
  Purple Day. Matching Water Bottle. Rack Needs More Purple.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Coffee Bikes for the Weekend

Bikes Ridden to Obtain Coffee

Friday Poll: Which sounds better?

A) I rode my bike to have coffee with some friends
B) I grabbed a cup at the drive-thru before getting on the freeway for my hour car commute

Personally, (B) gives me an ulcer just thinking about it. Have a good weekend. Get up. Go ride.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Waiting for One Hundred

 
Yasuko Enjoying the Shade of the Dendriform Columns

It hit ninety and above today with single-digit humidity, but I can't wait for one hundred degree days in Phoenix, when the pollen production shuts down, and the sneezy yellow eye-itch powder finally clears from the air. I dream of still, hot, dry, air and blazing sun, when the desert comes into its own, and the trails clear of casual riders. Noon, with saguaro: a cactus wren buzzes, insects hum, and I'm alone and riding in peace in the heat. Ninety degree nights spinning along the canal in a blast of furnace night air, just me,and the bats skimming the water. No more swollen, scratchy eyes or runny noses! No more antihistamine zombification! I know we're only half-April at this point. And except for the allergies, this weather is glorious. But I am ready for one hundred. Now, the flowers and green and new birth of spring is beginning to wear on me: it's time to fry all that is green and flowery, to bake the earth, and let the cactii and lizards have their long, hot days in the summer sun. Bring on the ultraviolet baths of summer. Bring on the lizards doing push-ups, and the birds panting in the heat. And ultimately, bring on the monsoon rains and winds, when I may need to seek shelter temporarily beneath the mighty dendriform columns that Frank Henry designed for the bank at 44th and Camelback. Beneath their spreading cement canopies, I would be safe from hail of any size. On my bike, heat is power, and driving monsoon rains make me laugh with joy. Get up. Go ride.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

ɹnoʇǝp

ɹnoʇǝp

Head toward the rusty fish, I guess.

The Envisioning Device, which was just to the right of the above area, was gone today. I guess that if you want to envisimaginate the future, you have to look quickly.

Here's one more shot from the Cycle the Arts Ride. The puzzle-like prickly pear framing the bicycle below is from Dennis Oppenheim's "Garden of Evidence". You can read about it and him by clicking.  There are six of these scattered around the District One Patrol Office. They are each different yet similar enough in appearance to confuse cyclists on a Sunday morning arts ride who are looking at a tiny picture of one on a map to use as a meeting place. But we worked it out, and got cold water refills and fig newtons. Which appear to be the perfect cycling food. Now, I like water jet-cut large prickly pear sculptures as much as the next guy, but I can't say that these spoke to me immediately, not like the Horseshoe Falls steam, or even the giant horses of Water Mark. Then I read that page linked above, and I noticed that it seems to want me to check out the shadow forms that the things throw. So I'll need to go back there later in the afternoon one day and have a look. Although I don't want the officers of the District One Patrol Office to wonder why I am hanging around. I'll just explain that I read online that I should study the "architectural scale prickly pear cactus forms [that] are placed within shadow forms which play with the vertical shapes on the ground plane". No wait, maybe I won't say that. I'm spending a night in the slammer for sure for an utterance like that. I'll just tell them I'm taking a ɹnoʇǝp. Get up. Go ride.

 

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Steel Tubing Flamingo Pink

It Caught My Eye: BAM! That is All

Tree Fort

Tree Fort

Seen on my bike commute tonight. Ready for summer vacation, ready for comic books, junk food and probably video games. Codes. Rules. Schemes, plans and dreams. The girl around the corner, and staying up there until dinner time. Get up. Go ride.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Envisioning Device

Ceci n'est pas une Autostereogram

As a followup to the "Cycle the Arts Ride" yesterday, I stopped by the much emptier bridge this morning (the picture above was taken yesterday) to see if they left up the semi-transparent thing that lets you see what the Soleri Bridge will look like when it's done, and also to try one more time to line it up perfectly. I found out more. Much more. It's called an "Envisioning Device." WTF?

  Envisioning Device: Stand on the Duct Tape X

Oh. There's a big silver duct tape X to stand on. Missed that yesterday. OK, stand on the X...OK, still not quite right...oh I see, stand on the X and be 5' 6" tall, OK, I'll crouch down quite a bit...hey, that's pretty neat. I took a photo from the exact X position but honestly it doesn't add much to yesterday's photo. But reading the sign I wasn't sure if I should envision the future or imagine it. So I kind of envisimaginated it. The future: envisimaginate it with this device.

Then there's this from yesterday. Too many pictures for one post. Get up. Go ride.

Sonic Would Totally Stay on for the Eight Seconds