Archives for category: Thoughts from the Saddle

Guess why? I got a new, full-time job! Yep, it’s a great job, love the work, get to commute by bicycle on a dedicated bike path, enjoy my co-workers, have a great big office, the hours are flexible, the manager is helpful and hands-off, and the day flies right on by again and again.

Aside from all of this, I think I’ll be very skilled at the job. And, being very skilled means I’ll be quite financially successful.

At this time I’d like to give a hearty double Fuck You to all the people who wouldn’t even review my resume for jobs I applied to in the past. I had my fingers crossed that I’d get hired to teach bratty little asshole kids and get paid fucking garbage.

Now I’m going to make a great living, I don’t have to deal with assholes, and I can come and go as I please.

Yep, life is suddenly 1,000,000 times better than it used to be just a few weeks ago.

2014 Tour de France – Etape 5

Ypres to Arenberg Porte du Hainaut

Winner: Lars Boom

Have you ever wished they’d fit Paris-Roubaix into the middle of a Grand Tour? Well, today’s stage provided that. In the wind and the rain, the race was blasted apart over the cobbles. Even though the organizers removed two secteurs, the race was still a battle with the road and the elements. Defending champion Chris Froome crashed twice and slumped into the team car before he even made it to the cobbles.

Crashes galore, including one by Kittel, meant the racers were fighting just to keep the rubber side down. A fast pace was set in order to get onto the cobbles at the point end and avoid the crashes. Despite the conditions, the stage was completed in an utterly astounding 47 kilometers per hour. If this doesn’t mean much to you, see if you can get up to this speed on a flat road. Then see how long you can hold it. PROs exist in their own realm of awesomeness. Yet again, I have a new level of respect for the Skinny Men in Lycra. Fuck, that is fast.

Nibali flew across the cobbles like a man possessed, giving a big Fuck You sign to the 500-1 odds bookmakers placed on his win.

An incredible display of timing and power saw Lars Boom, the Dutch hardman with oh…a cyclocross World Championship on his palmares denied Nibali the win, but he finished only nineteen seconds back, putting huge time into his rivals Valverde and Contador. He was led home by the Danish do-it-all’er Jakob Fuglsang.

What a display! We know Nibali can fly down mountains, now we know he can fly over the pave du Norde. Fantastic!

This is the coolest bicycle in my collection. And that is saying something because I’m fortunate enough to own a few different nice road bikes.

It’s a 1990 Tommasini Diamante frameset with a 1991 Campagnolo C-Record gruppo. It has the Columbus “Multi-Shaped” tubeset, which is completely bonkers. Round, ovalized, hexagonal, this bike has tubes in every shape imaginable when you’re working with steel. The ride quality is sublime, the paintjob is busy, the bartape is original. I acquired it in more-or-less New Old Stock (NOS) condition. I put on my own saddle and pedals. And there she is in all her glory. The detail of the frame and the paint are crazy. There are small diamonds throughout, include a little pressed in diamond on each seatstay where they meet the seatpost cluster. “Diamante” is Italian for diamond.

The best thing about the bike, aside from the obvious awesomeness, is that it’s so fucking nice it effectively ended my search for my own holy grail. I will never find a better bike that I enjoy riding (and looking at) more than this one.

Some specifics:

– 8-speed Campagnolo C-Record gruppo

– Campagnolo Delta brake calipers

– Campagnolo rims + Record hubs

– Campagnolo Aero Seatpillar

– Cinelli 64 handlebars

– Cinelli XA stem (it’s a 90mm, would love more reach, gotta source a 110mm)

Sometimes I dress it up in a “classic” set-up, with gumwall Veloflex Master tires and a Selle San Marco Regal with silver titanium rails and rivets. At other times I’ll dress it up in a “neo-retro” outfit, with limited edition Michelin Grand Prix 4000S tires and a Selle San Marco SLR. Oh, sometimes it gets white LOOK Keo Max pedals, sometimes red Keo Sprint pedals.

Enjoy!

Oh yeah, I’ve also been lucky enough to have this bicycle, and the story behind it, featured on my favorite online cycling community site, Velominati. Here is a link:

Guest Article: Ron’s Tommasini

Tommasini Diamante "Classic" Set-Up

Tommasini Diamante “Classic” Set-Up

My Tommasini Diamante in "Neo-Retro" Get-Up.

My Tommasini Diamante in “Neo-Retro” Get-Up.

I was doing work for my dissertation last week and this story popped up. More importantly, this photograph popped up. Isn’t that big smile on Ronnie’s face priceless? And look at ol’ Nan lending a hand! I wonder what Skipper’s face looks like?

As if it wasn’t abundantly clear to me at this point in my life, talk about money & power giving forth more money and power. George Romney the governor, Skipper Romney the millionaire businessman, Mitt Romney the billionaire businessman and near-President. Ah yes, and everyone in America has the same chance at success and wealth. Yeah right.

Click on the link to see the Los Angeles Times photograph from 1967.

Romney’s Lunch with Reagan

Has it really been that long? Around ten years ago I had recently returned from a trip abroad, during which I was lucky enough to live on the north island of New Zealand for awhile. Whenever this experience came up in a conversation, people always wanted to know more about New Zealand, the unknown land sitting out in the middle of the ocean near the bottom of the world. Due to this interest I finally decided to write things down, to tell the story of living there right after a graduated college. It was a period of transition for me, as one chapter of my life closed, another was about to begin. I was fortunate enough to spend it in such a wonderful location. Where to go next, I wondered from way down there.

When I first wrote this story I did it more as an exercise in reflection and dedication, determined to write a sort-of memoir of my life to that point. I guess that is why I’ve let it collect virtual dust since I finished it years ago; the goal wasn’t really to publish a book but to write a book. Yes, way back then the ol’ internet was around, but there really weren’t personal sites like this one.

Well, it has been awhile and I’m sure a lot of the writing is rubbish and that my outlook on life and perspective has changed. But, this happens to everyone when they create something from nothing – in hindsight it’s tough to remember the person who created that, to recall where your mind was at when you put it together.

Oh well, does a tree falling in the woods make any noise? I’m going to put up some chapters and if they are horrible, well, nobody will probably read them so the worst that can happen is they remain silent.

Kia Ora.

Your Rudeness is My Business.

I try to be optimistic about the world and the people around me, especially those I encounter in my daily life. It could be the people I work with or the people sitting around me in the library, or maybe even other folks at the grocery store. I hope that they’ll obey the easiest rule of etiquette, the Golden Rule. Simple, really, right? Just act towards others as you’d appreciate they act towards you. A measure of conscientiousness, a degree of consideration, and an understanding that when you’re part of a group (which happens every time you leave the confines of your own dwelling) you have entered into a social contract, one easily orchestrated according to a single, simple rule.

And yet, my optimism is shaken, or shattered, on a continual, daily basis. Everyone today is a snowflake, unique, pristine, and worthy of praise, if not adulation. This is the message that is hammered into us by advertisers, corporations, products, and even school teachers. One’s own happiness, we are told over and over, whether directly or more subliminally, is paramount. We must seek it through purchasing goods and houses and cars that make us happy, make us feel good about ourselves, and confirm our own conception of “who we are.” We must also seek it through an expensive diet of only the most organic, perfect foods. We might even seek the help of a doctor, coach, or better yet, a personal coach, to help us find our own happiness. We pay good money for fancy water shipped from Fiji to help make us happy. We even take pills to cure our inability to concentrate, our inability to engage in coitus, or our inability to feel calm. Seek happiness, personally, is now the modern Golden Rule, as least from what I can see and confront on a daily basis. Just imagine how drastically the message is changed when it shifts from “do unto” towards “seek” or “attain” or “get,” all buzzwords used by those selling things to put you closer to your of personal happiness.

As I’m eternally perplexed, dismayed, frustrated, and angered by how people act towards other people in public, I could go on about this. Take your earbuds out so you can engage in a conversation with the cashier. Stop driving as if your were drunk because you are texting. Don’t pollute my environment with your enormous truck and all the garbage you generate from prepare drinks and foods. The message from scientists, of all types, is alarming. We are destroying the planet at a rapid rate. We are destroying our bodies at a rapid rate. We are destroying our mental health at a rapid rate. And yet, people continue to go about seeking their own personal happiness at the expense of everything else. And this is the biggest problem: seeking your own personal happiness, at any cost, both figuratively and literally, has consequences for everyone else.

In the exchange of the Golden Rule for the Me-First Rule, everyone pays. I pay with my peace and sanity and happiness. You pay with…your peace and sanity and happiness. The seeker is unable to see beyond their own nose, thus stifling their ability to truly engage and enjoy their world and those in it. The pursuit of personal happiness strangles to death all of the benefits of community. Monks might seek happiness alone in a temple in the mountains. This seems to work for some of them, but takes isolation and focus. They have willingly made a choice to forgo community in order to seek their idea of happiness. On the other hand, seeking your own personal happiness, while being blind to the community around you, serves to isolate the individual and tax the community. The individual chasing personal happiness takes and doesn’t contribute, thereby depleting and damaging the ability of the larger system, the community, to function properly.

The other day I saw an episode of the television show “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” The show is an amusing comedy, but what the creator and star, Larry David, have managed to do is point out how selfish, rude, and egotistical many people you encounter during daily life have become. From the coffee shop to the movies to the road, Larry is continually encountering rude people. Not the most creative idea for a show, right? But I think one reason many people fervently love the show is not the absurd situations Larry finds himself in, but the reason he often arrives there – he is willing, despite what might result, to point out to those around him, from friends to strangers, when they are being assholes.

Larry is standing near a parking area when he notices someone parking improperly. It isn’t a lack of skill, but a lack of caring about the Golden Rule that causes the driver to park in such a fashion. We can guess as to why they’d park in such a fashion and then refuse to correct their error. They are in a rush. They’ve had a bad day. They were distracted and not paying attention.

After a conversation, which is more closely described as an argument with exchanged insults, the man says to Larry, “”Have a real nice day.” He doesn’t mean it, of course. And what does our Hero Larry David tell the man:

“I’m sure you will too…at everyone else’s expense.”

The scene perfectly sums up my belief that in the simplest, most ordinary daily tasks, such as parking a car, we’ve exchanged the Golden Rule and in place inserted a paramount regard for Personal Happiness.

As long as I’m happy, that’s key!

More of us should be like Larry David. It’s not an easy fight and you are going to be insulted, but I don’t think anything but vigilance and assertiveness will turn back the rising tide of Personal Happiness. Of course, throughout the show Larry is constantly called or portrayed he’s an asshole. Why? Because he has the fortitude to tell others when they’re putting their happiness above the simplicity of common courtesy. He’s the asshole, not the Pursuer. The problem is that, in their search for Personal Happiness, people have their vision clouded and all they can see is themselves, making it impossible to see how their actions affect those around them and thus, making them highly sensitive to being told they’re being rude. Why are the most boorish people also the most sensitive to criticism?

It’s just a television show, right? But just like any art form, it’s a commentary on life. Today’s modern life in America is bankrupt and misguided, at many levels, but because on the simplest level we’ve forgot to practice the Golden Rule towards those around us.

Thank you, Larry David! And to those of you out there acting like Pig Parkers – you’ve been warned.

Last week at the 2013 edition of the Giro d’Italia, the cycling Tour of Italy, wound its way to a finish after three weeks of racing, news came out that a rider had tested positive for a banned substance. Does this sound familiar? It was just a few months ago that millions of people around the world, including even the most uncommitted cycling fan, sat down to watch the world’s most famous cyclist confess to years of doping.

Doping is cheating and people don’t like cheaters, at least not until they are caught. Every time the topic is raised, whether by fellow tifosi like myself, (hey, I’m half Italian and I cheer the maglia rosa chase from home) or a more casual follower of the PRO peloton, I’m conflicted about how I feel and what I might say to contribute to the conversation.

As a historian I realize a few things about doping in the sport of cycling. One is that when there is racing to be done and money to be won, people are going to cheat. A runner, Rosie Ruiz, once jumped on the subway in order to assist her win in the Boston Marathon. Horse trainers have been put in jail for injecting their racers with powerful, illegal, performance-enhance (and life threatening) drugs, a crime seemingly worse than an outright cheat, as they have a say in whether or not they ingest banned substances. I also can put the “EPO Era” in perspective and view it as only a part of a very long, rich tradition of bicycle racing. As a person who likes to look back, I also know cycle racers have consumed risky, and sometimes illegal, substances in order to aid their performance.

As it turns out, speed of all kinds, from foot-based to hoof-based to wheel-based, cannot untangle itself from the lure of speed-assistance substances.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. A cyclist was caught doping. A sad joke with punch-line that is all too familiar right now. I don’t doubt racers throughout cycling are still cheating, but there was at least some hope that things were changing. Maybe I’m being too hopeful, and naive, since what is really going on is a witch hunt to rid the peloton of one form of dope (Erythropoietin) as another one seeps in beneath the Radar as we sit thinking we’re watching a (mostly) clean peloton race. EPO is dead, right? Now the drug-of-choice to make you faster, or dead, is ominously known as GW501516. It turns out that during clinical trials the drug induced a variety of cancers and serious side affects, prompting an end to any hopes of it being used safely for medical purposes. I guess there wasn’t much need to name a drug that was made in a laboratory and wouldn’t be advertised to paying customers; the mice were content with a simple, unsexy train of letters and numbers.

I don’t know if the surprising part is that a high-profile cyclist was nabbed for doping and disqualified from a Grand Tour on the heels of revelations, admissions, and penalties for other doping cyclists.  The rider actually was tested ahead of the race, so there is the possibility he was racing “clean.” But with the letters EPO on the minds of anyone following the PRO peloton, and even those who don’t really follow the sport, plus a testing process in place to detect the drug, at was at least surprising the rider would choose that dope.

Sadly, the unsurprising part of the story is that the rider has a dirty past: he was suspended in 2007 for his associations with a banned doctor. (Yes, not only do they ban substances, they also ban doctors.) And, he was also suspended in 2009 in the very same Grand Tour after testing positive for a very similar substance to EPO, known as CERA. Same race, same rider, same result – a positive confirmation of a banned substance in the racers body.

Danilo Di Luca, known as “The Killer,” has effectively killed his career and also the hopes of some that the peloton is cleaner. Or, at least that the EPO Era is dead. Old habits die hard. Some believe he knew Father Time was watching his wristwatch, since he was thirty-seven years of age, the twilight for even the best cyclists. Others equate his continued use of the same drug for performance-enhancing benefits to be no different than the continued use of any unprescribed drug – both are junkies.

Whether he is addicted to the drug or not, Di Luca’s positive test will raise more questions than it will provide answers and leave even those with hopes for a cleaner peloton, while accepting the historical connection between racing and cheating throughout racing of all types, a bit disheartened.

The Killer, still killing the hopes of cycling fans years after his first, and second attempt to stomp them out.

Would I lie to you, baby?

Would I lie to you, baby?

I live in a downtown neighborhood, situated a hundred meters from a park, a short distance to the university campus, and down the street from what could be considered the “downtown strip” of shops, restaurants, and even the local history center. The location is central and yet sublime, tucked away from the busy streets just so, making me feel at once in the thick of it and isolated. It is a prime location, one I’d venture attracted many of my neighbors to this block. By foot, by bicycle, by skateboard, by rollerblade, by tricycle the city is within grasp.

Yet, most of my neighbors rely on their automobiles as a conduit to move from their house out into the city. Each morning, as I walk my dog, I see them hurriedly slam their front doors and rush to their cars, jerking them into the roadway almost before the engine has had a chance to come to life. While I do not know the destination of all their trips, I do know that many of them travel no further than the campus, which is quite literally down the block. I also know that many of them leave for nothing more than liquid or solid nourishment, from the grocery, beer store, or caffeine dealer, all within shouting distance of the block, yet still remain possessed by their automobiles.

I’m aware of the allure, the fascination, and the attraction Americans have with and of the automobile. I see every remaining, alive-and-kickin’ WWII veteran driving around a Grand Marquis or a Town Car. Interstates and enormous, petrol-guzzling automobiles were their god-given right, have kicked the hell out of the Nazis and bombed the hell out of the Japanese. They say it takes a generation for any paradigmatic perspective on the world to die out, to peter away as hearts and arteries slow and clog and die out.

But how do you explain the graduate student attending one of the best universities in the nation, if not the world, who is trapped by this same paradigm? Trade the Grand Marquis for a Mini and you still have a person who takes their automobile, the cheap supply of insurance and fuel, and a vast array of paved roads for granted, a given right to drive anywhere and everywhere anytime. Trade the “Retired Navy” license plate holder for a “Coexist” bumper sticker and the mindset of twenty-five year old is a mirror of the seventy-five year old in terms of relying, and relishing, the freedom provided by the divine automobile.

The dangerous and pressing issue, however, is that the vehicular freedom is increasingly extended to millions of new drivers in blossoming nations around the world; our Western freedom is now their Eastern freedom and since we all share the same crowded planet, we must frankly ask where this is leading us. The fact is that it’s not down a country lane towards a bucolic field but, towards a planet that simply cannot function under the extreme stress of petroleum consumption and pollution.

I try to see the world through less cynical eyes, but how can I remain hopeful for change when my peers, the ones supposedly free of past assumptions, aware of how personal decisions affect the entire planet, still cannot be bothered to forgo their automobiles even for the shortest of trips? The stickers and shirts and words they possess all tell me one story, but the roar of their engines tells me a very different story.

I’m working and hoping for change. I am not a saint, and I often sin, but I still try to piece together the small things I can do into an effort to cause less harm, to tread with a lighter step. I’m trying to remain optimistic. However, each day I open my door to a perfect setting for cultivating change and all that I witness emphasizes the hopelessness of my dream.

This is from John Nugent, founder/owner of Neuvation cycling. And, it’s hilarious.

Chicken Admits to Doping
An organic chicken, of the bantam class, has admitted to doping. Exact particulars are difficult to confirm due to its lack of command of the English language, but his oversized thighs and succulent white meat breasts led authorities to suspect this was no normal bird.
Authorities enlisted the aid of a chicken whisperer to pry out the facts. The chicken didn’t admit to knowingly dope, but suggested it must have been in something it ate. Breeders, even organic breeders, have long been suspected of giving the birds “a little extra juice” to fatten them up for harvest.
“This is an ongoing investigation, since we suspect this involves more than one bird. We believe this practice is widespread and could even be linked to school lunch programs.” commented the Chief Poultry Officer.
First word of this came from a first grader who noticed a particularly succulent chop and immediately calculated how much he would make should he win a whistle blower suit. The kid happenes to excel in math.
It’s also unclear what disciplinary action the chicken could face. Sanctioning would seem trite, since chickens are normally executed.
This is a breaking story. Thanks for reading – John Neugent

It is a moving feeling when a short, simple piece can make you feel something every single time you listen to it. I selfishly wish it was longer, but what a knockout song!

Never Going Back Again

Written by Lindsey Buckingham

She broke down and let me in

Made me see where I’ve been

Been down one time

Been down two times

I’m never going back again

You don’t know what it means to win

Come down and see me again

Been down one time

Been down two times

I’m never going back again

Not the best audio, but you get the idea: