Wednesday, April 14, 2010



No Seriously,
Who Did Let The Dogs Out?

Because I have half a mind to sue them.


S
omehow I managed to finish the Superfly HTG build last night. (Somehow...I didn't sleep that's how. No some to it.) It went pretty well. It was tough getting used to the fact that the 5mm bondhus-end Allen wrench which generally resides in my right pocket when I'm doing bike-mechanicky-type-things was as useful as a chest-hair trimmer at Tom Selleck's house on this project. (I don't know, chest hair-trimmer...just came to mind, like a bolt from the blue.) Ya see, all of the Sram XX bits utilize a Torx bolt head, a T-25 to be precise. So Mr. T-25 booted Mr. 5mm Bondhus and that was that.

It was like when Daniel Craig took Pierce Brosnan's place as James Bond, no one was complaining really. Everyone knew that the new guy was superior in every way. Except for Remington Steele fans; they were pissed. They love 5mm Bondhus Allen wrenches...wait, what were we talking about?

Oh yes, Superfly HTG. So I did get out for a couple hours on it today and it was f—in' brilliant.





Heading out from the house: I love this time of year. For about four days in the spring Somerville and Medford Massachusetts don't look like total crap. By next week I'll be grumbling and threatening to move to North Carolina again.


I don't know if it's a symptom of getting old or what, but I do spend more time stopping and looking at things during rides these days. Especially pretty things. I just realized, as I'm sitting here writing this, that moments before I took this photo, like maybe two or three moments before, I was attacked by two Doberman Pinschers. I came out into a small park in Lexington, and a guy had two brown Dobermans, off leash. I could tell it was going to go badly by the way he kind of panicked when he saw me. He had some electronic device in his hand, presumably some shocky-torture thing to deter the Lads from devouring cyclists and children, but it wasn't working, unless of course it was meant to anger the dogs further. He was clicking the thing frantically as the dogs surrounded me. Being the dog-loving dope that I am, I held out hope that they weren't going to get all crazy on me: "Hey guys — HEY!" They were really going for me, teeth gnashing at my calves. I pulled my leg away just as one of them brought his jaws together with a sharp SNAP! I swung my bike at them and lost it, just freaking lost it: "GET THE F— AWAY FROM ME! I WILL KICK YOUR F—ING TEETH IN!" No joke, it was pure fight or flight and I was not "flighting." My cathartic, tourettes-like freak out caused the dogs to back off. The owner was stammering: "I got 'em, I got 'em!" "You ain't got shit! Get those things on a leash before they eat somebody's kid!"

Wow, I was mad. Rarr. But as usual, I kept riding (all that adrenaline felt great...until I cracked) and forgot all about it. I did tell M about it when I got home, but I did't get worked up then and I'm not getting worked up now, in fact, I'm falling asleep in my Harpoon Celtic Ale.



The other day I was riding up the totally sick Minuteman bike path when I had to stop to pee. I have a usual spot I where I duck off into the meadows, but there were some folks hovering around that area, so I turned down a different path, and found the trail pictured above. And there was a Superfly stuck between the V of that tree and a decomposing helmeted and lycra clad body in the ditch below, so I took the bike and didn't call the cops, and that's how I got this sweet, sweet bike. That's not entirely true. What I found (after I peed) was a really cool trail along a ridgeline. It only went for about a hundred meters, but I was wishing it went all day.


A couple days later I was riding with my buddy Colin. (Not Rooters, a different Colin, a hairier Colin.) I mentioned the awesome trail I "discovered." He informed me that he and his brother built the trail a billion years ago. Isn't that funny? Well I thought it was funny. Not funny ha-ha, but funny heh, or maybe funny nasal-exhalation-noise. Alright, forget it, I'm going to go talk to someone who "gets me," like this door knob or that cat.



I know this is going to make The Todd Downs' head spin like Linda Blair's in The Exorcist, but something I didn't have at the house was an Avid bleed kit, hence the massive snarl of hydraulic brake housing. Maybe he'll forgive me since I didn't link to his...oh wow, I was going to say "since I didn't link to his dead blog," and then be a wise ass and link to his dead blog, but it seems that Mr. Downs has a new, snazzy web-type-site. Very nice, go check it out. Unlike me, he might actually have something intelligent to say, in fact, I guarantee it.

-t

5 comments:

dicky said...

Look slow.. and flexy.

WV: milderti

George said...

I was chased by 3 dogs on the GRAVEL GRINDER mapping ride on Sunday, but they were lazy dogs. I told them in my "most authoritative voice" to "Go lay down!", and they did.

Raineman said...

Nice take down on the fidos.
Examples like realizing you are talking to the guy who built the "discovered" trail a day later happen to me/us every frickin' day. Being observant just means you have more experience than youthful multi-tasking clutterworld dismissers - or you are losing your sharklike edge. Pass the geritol.

Jonny Bold said...

Harpoon Celtic Ale.....YUM!

todddowns said...

Thanks, Thom.. it's good to be back.

Somewhere in that box of tools I still haven't had you ship to me should be a pair of Avid bleed syringes. There's no fluid though, and I can't remember if there are any barbs or olives left in there, but it might be worth a look.