Archive for the 'Don't Try This at Home' Category

Going to Hell Twice Without Leaving the Kitchen – A day in the life of a framebuilder.

Fail Harder

I got up, let the dog out, and jumped into the shower. No sooner had I pulled on my favorite pair of shop pants and an old t shirt, than a voicemail appeared blinking on my telephone. I hadn’t had my coffee, and already I was missing calls. It was Bicycling Magazine. They wanted to ask me a few questions to go along with the photos they took a couple of weeks back. Where is that coffee? Are we really out of sugar?

I returned the call, left a voicemail, and drank some coffee while checking my emails. A customer had a few questions about her bike design which presented some interesting possibilities and a couple of conversations later, we were looking at an intriguing and innovative solution. The computer, which was going to be packed into the backpack to head down to the shop, was now plugged into the wall while I plugged my ideas into BikeCAD Pro to try them out.

This design would be pretty new, so I got on the phone to review some of finer points and a few calls later I found myself talking to Grant Petersen. He asked me a couple of questions to gauge what he was dealing with, and then he asked point blank if I was mostly using carbon (he said “plastic”) forks on my bikes. I said I’ve used them on two bikes. “Well, then you are only going to hell twice.” I hoped he wasn’t the final authority on that, so we moved on to bottom bracket drops for 650B bikes and he offered his brake reach-centric fork designing method.

Back in the kitchen, the dog needed a treat. I administered a frozen treat-stuffed kong, and got back to BikeCAD. Since I was already at the computer, I started digging into some methods of making some of the technical decisions easier on my customers. A little while later, I was neck deep into Basecamp and had enlisted a couple of customers to be guinea pigs.

Uploading pictures of cable routing choices for mixte frames, I got the call I had been waiting for. Bicycling Magazine had questions for Sweetpea. Sweetpea was on her second cup of coffee and was ready for a lively interview. Talking about bikes and why women deserve the best gets me pretty stoked. It gets me thinking about all the really fantastic women who are in line for a Sweetpea, and reminds me just how lucky I am to be doing this.

After the interview I called Michael Sylvester, my bicycle fitting mentor to check in about some of our upcoming Sweetpea fittings. We went over some outstanding decisions and decided to gather some information and meet back for a bike design jam session. Next thing I knew his 4 o’clock appointment was calling. Really? Was it that late? I hadn’t even looked into the lathe purchase I am thinking of making for my new shop, let alone touched metal all day. I spent the next chunk of my afternoon coordinating a shop visit to look at some machinery and getting an education in the benefits of large spindle bore diameters on metal lathes. (To sum it up once and for all, bigger is better.)

By the time Austin came home and the puppy was roused from her slumber beneath the kitchen table, I had packed in a full day and barely left the kitchen. When you come home brushing metal shavings off your sleeves and wiping oil smudges off your forehead, you know that you’ve been making something. On days like this, work is a bit less tangible. Important work? Yes. But it doesn’t quite feel real unless something is getting bent, chopped, brazed or filed. Its days like this where I have to remind myself that if its a small failure not to touch metal, then there are times when you just have to fail harder.

Cigars and Onions

An Onion

A long while back, Natalie and I thought it would be important to take up some bad habits to offset all the cycling, running, and multivitamins we take; so we decided to start smoking.  We now smoke a cigar together every six months or so.  At first, I wasn’t quite sure how to do it. . . that is, be a smoker.  What I found was that it wasn’t that hard to do, but it was hard to do casually.  The first couple of times we fumbled around with things, and I think we have the hang of it now.  But a couple of months ago, I was taking a slow draw off a cigar when something hit me.  It was the taste in my mouth and the smell in my nose.

This shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise as this the what the whole deal is about.  But what was so remarkable was that in a single moment I was instantly reminded of my grandfather.  He used to smoke cigars regularly, and as a kid when he would lean in and give me a kiss on the cheek, I would be able to taste the smell in my nose.  It was only when he leaned in close when that this would happen, and it was something I had not thought about in nearly twenty years.  And now, it reminds me of him and conveys a certain perspective: I don’t just remember him, I remember him when he was close.  So now when Nat and I cozy up to a big cigar, I can lean back and remember my grandfather.  And it’s nice.

I would have never been reminded of this had we not done something entirely new and completely out of character.  Which of course brings me to the subject of onions.  When I was growing up, I would look at my parents completely aghast as they consumed raw onions on things like sandwiches and salads.  This in my mind was tantamount to eating dynamite.  And I was recently reminded of the horror I felt in college when I saw a friend of mine who during a play had to eat an onion like an apple.  So imagine my surprise when at breakfast some raw onion made its way into my mouth accompanied with some bagel, cream cheese, capers, tomato, lettuce and lox.  Maybe it was the combination that made it possible, but I really liked it.  I think that the feeling I felt afterward is termed cognitive dissonance.  I guess I knew that tastes change as you get older, but what I didn’t realize was how those changes are connected to things that have been deep down a long time.

A Public Service Announcement from Sweetpea Bicycles

I got on the train yesterday afternoon, put my bike on the hook, and sat down on a free seat across from a young woman.  She looked at me and gently started to cry.

Its summer.  Please take a minute to wash your helmet straps.  The non-biking public appreciates it.

Confessions

Over the last couple of months, a number of cyclists have been stepping up to the mic and admitting to using, thinking about using, standing next to someone who was using, kicking ass while using, drugs.  And now that Le Tour is Le Underway, I have a few things that I need to get out in the open.

Austin and I have long discussed the pharmaceutical spectrum of performance enhancement.  I mean, where are on the line are Flintstone Vitamins and EPO?  Is an oxygen tent used to simulate high altitude training really so different from blood doping if it has a similar effect?  Where does the glory of human potential turn into a miracle of science?

Like everyone else, I too want my star athlete at the top of his game.  Therefore today, in order to shed the burden of guilt, I would like to make the following confession:

For the last three months, I have systematically implemented a regimen to enhance the athletic performance of my star athlete, Austin.  In close coordination with local coffee brewers (see Exhibit A) I have been supplying him with Stumptown Coffee in the morning, a sack lunch, and a snack in order to support his daily bike commute.

Exhibit A

(Exhibit A)

There is no yellow jersey to return.  No other teammates to implicate.  All I can offer as an explanation is that the pressures of Bike to Work Week were just too great to overcome.  We commit ourselves to riding clean from here on out, and hope all our fans can forgive us.

Fight. Evil. Crime.

Lost

Lost

We just moved into a new neighborhood. This means a lot of things: Living in a mountain of boxes, chucking the stuff we don’t need or haven’t seen for years, and taking 20 minutes out of our morning to look for where we packed the soap. But the really big project is finding new running routes.

So last night around 7:00, we took off exploring. We had heard of some trails nearby and wanted to find them. We hit some pretty crazy hills right off the bat as well as some roads where bikes fear to tread. And finally after trucking up this huge hill, we found a small poorly marked trail to our left. Perfect.

An hour or so later, we were completely lost. Let me rephrase that: An hour later, we were completely lost in the woods within the Portland city limits. We finally managed to crawl our way out into a residential area and stopped at a gas station to ask for directions back to town. The attendant said with a heavy British accent “Go that way, down the hill, and if you get to hell you have gone too far.” Maybe a little dramatic, but it was a little misty out and it was getting dark.

So having been out way longer than was on the schedule, in fading light and finally on some city streets, we started heading down the hill back home. . . when we noticed another small poorly marked trail to our left. Time for a little more adventure. We got home after 9:00.

I love the fact that I can get lost in the wilderness in town. Sure, I am not going to run into anything big, but that doesn’t deter from the fact that we are running on an unknown trail only a foot or two wide. Most days I am content running what I know, but I always have to remind myself that the real joy is in getting off the grid and exploring. The difference between being lost and exploring, I think, is knowing what is behind you. That, and possibly the thrill of taking an unexpected left turn.

Filmed by Bike: Opening Night Throwdown

FilmedByBike

There are a lot of events that could qualify as “The Best Bike Event of the Year”. The Alice B. Toeclips awards ceremony, the Bike Craft Fair, S.S. Pussycat, Multnomah County Bike Fair, Pedalpalooza, anything featuring the Sprockettes.

But ranking way high on the list was last Friday’s Filmed by Bike Opening Night Throwdown. I wish I could convey the spirit of the event, but there really aren’t words to describe the kinetic mayhem that was Filmed by Bike. Just know that it rocked. Hard.

There were messenger movies, a movie featuring unicycles, and a couple of bike love stories. Natalie was lucky enough to be nominated to the esteemed jury, and was also in one of the films (a safety video/horror comedy). But I think our favorite was this fantastic movie out of Canada which is seriously worth the price of the DVD.

skiboys

A few words about the global undie crisis.

The Elements of Style

A genre is sometimes defined by its conventions. The Epic Poem, for example, starts in medias res, has the obligatory trip to the underworld, and features the almost divine hero figure. Think Homer’s Odyssey. Or Virgil’s Aeneid.

The bike messenger movie on the other hand, has other, different conventions. While some of these conventions may overlap, the bike messenger movie usually features excessive drinking, the punk or metal soundtrack, physical injury, and the mad bike skills. Here is one fine example.

The Leaky Roof

It’s been a big week at the Towne Storage building. As summer gives way to fall, so comes the rain. And with the cooler weather, the leaves changing, the shorter days comes. . . gambling?

As we were walking out of the building last Wednesday, we were invited to take part in the Leaky Roof Pool put on by the building’s management. Presented with a layout of the top floor, people were encouraged to bet on where the roof would leak first. One Dollar gets you in, and the first to report a leak at their location wins. If multiple people chose the same spot, they divvy up the payout.

Do you know the end to this story? You should, because we are in fact blogging about it.

Total winnings: $6.00. Good for a fancy drink coffee date at Stumptown. Doubles. Extra whip.