What's in the box?
Was it just a pair of HUGE socks?
Was it just a pair of HUGE socks?
No, there was a Gary Fisher Collection shirt in there too. But was that all? Why then is the box so darn big? That's an awful lot of real estate for a T-Shirt and a pair of socks, however big they might be. Oh but I do love me a big pair o' socks. So much so that I bought a gigantic pair of Swiftwick Embrocation socks off of James Morrison a few weeks back.
I often run into James, he basically lives in the attic of The Shop. He's up there sorting slick looking Embrocation goods for hours a day with the help of his not-stereotypically-short helper Elf, Pete Bradshaw. One day I'm up in the attic and I bump into James and he says, "Thom P., if you could have anything in the world, anything, what would it be?" And I replied, "Well James Morrison, I would desire a prodigious pair of blue socks with pictures of coffee pots on them, because there are two things I love in this life — big socks and coffee." And he said, "You're in luck!" And I was and it was great. Way more lucky than smashing my forehead on the hatch of the Subaru outside that McDonalds in New York that time so hard that it left a dent (in my head, not the car), a dent that quickly ballooned into a purple Easter egg looking thing which the cashier couldn't stop looking at as I ordered my overly sweet and overly cream-diluted ice coffee.
But here's the thing, I only bought the socks because they were big and look cool, not because I'm way into cross or rubbing Mace-The Ointment! on my pale appendages in the middle of winter. So I'm happy Travis and the guys at Trek threw some socks in with my super-secret weapon...or whatever it is that was in that box. The Embrocation socks will now be relegated to recreational use only, for wearing to super-cool bike industry events and whatnot. OK, maybe I'll have to broaden their application, if I only wore them to super-cool bike industry events I'm afraid they'd wind up just getting eaten by moths in my closet.
The Embrocation guys do have some sick design-stuff going on, check out these custom Cinelli bars:
Bradshaw had a pair in the shop the other day, but I had a rare episode of decency and decided not to snap a spy photo and post it before they got a chance to. More pics over on their site.
And in a hatchet-shop segue...
M and I went to check out that new Flatbread Pizza in Davis Square the other night. We went to the original Flatbread up in Waitsfield Vermont just a few weeks back, it was amazing, best brick oven pizza in the universe. The slick commuter pictured above was parked outside (that one's for you Georges). I.F.'s in Somerville are like rats in New York or deer in...upstate New York.
We got the Taco Pizza, which I insisted on calling "nacho pizza." I don't know, I've got a thing for nachos, it's an even stronger predilection than I have for big socks and coffee. Emotionally, I'm eight-years-old, whenever M asks me what I want for dinner I scream "nachos!" and do a little dance. It's all consuming. And speaking of all consuming...
I can't believe I ate the whole thing. Oh wait, no I can believe it, I'm a freaking pig, especially when you combine two things more valuable to me than gold and diamonds — pizza and nachos. This culinary triumph trumped the waffle fry nachos at Jake's Dixie Road House as my all time favorite thing ever.
What's it gonna be, 85° tomorrow? If I put the sweat suit on, wrap myself in Glad bags, and hit the bike path at noon, I can maybe make weight for the big bike race Saturday.