Battle NYC

I really need to carry a notebook.

This city throws crazy and absurdly bizarre thing at me by the bucket. A really big effin bucket. By the time my 10 or so hour shift ends I lose a lot of it, though. The most amazing material that I sew together in my head while flowing elegantly through a sea of cars is mostly evaporated by the time I hit the Manhattan Bridge on my way home. The blog just gets filed then reduced to snippets of random happenings by the time I put it down. The days are predictably unpredictable. The routine stays pretty constant but the things I witness on a daily basis lend themselves to madness. I've been really working hard to be a better and more commanding asshole. It's the only way to keep your sanity, really. My favorite lately is the "car-slap" or "swat". This involves smacking the door or window of a car as it turns left into your path just as you dive around around it. The cabbies hate it, the trucks hate it, the fancy wall streeters hate but it gets peoples attention. It also gives the rider some power by feeling more in control and helping to keep the "order". Of course, save for a few, most of the time this incites a certain amount of rage in the driver as well. When that happens I just keep riding because this is NYC and nobody gives a fuck when the moment is over. If I pulled that move in WV or VA I'd be worried about serious retaliation. Anyway, cars are the enemy. Pedestrians provide perhaps an even greater threat but, as was pointed out to me and absorbed, we're on the same side. Buses are in a category all their own. I have mixed feelings since they're public transportation and technically reduce the amount of cars on the road trying to kill me. They own the right side of the road and stay there for the most part so at least they have rules. Buses are cool except when it's convenient for me to right on the right side as well. This battle will never be won, so I'll stop (whin)(typ)ing about it. More on cars... The cabbies are bad but the black town car drivers are worse. Those guys point and gun, rally car style. Their cargo must be those re$pon$ible fellas down on Wall St. in a rush to man a sinking ship. So I was riding past 14th st in Union square and heard a soft, loud, CRUNCH. I slowed and looked to right with about fifty other passer byes and caught the after math of a full on side swipe collision between an accelerator happy nyc taxi and a black town car. Everyone one seemed pretty amused except the shocked drivers. I let out a hearty chuckle and kept moving, enjoying a clear path through the blocked intersection.

Every evening I usually end with a run downtown since it's my direction home. Broadway is my preferred ride downtown. It slants from the North west side of Central Park all the way down to the Financial district. I get a kick out of riding through all the boroughs of the city. Once I'm down I'll take Grand St through Little Italy and Chinatown to Christie. On this particular night I hit Christie and rode into traffic slightly looking for a gap when a rider came from my left and yell's "Nice Move!", like I almost hit him or something. It wasn't even close as I was doing a track stand barely even in the road. Good opportunity to be an obnoxious prick with no consequences, I thought to myself. As he zoomed by me and told I yelled, "fuck off, asshole!". He answered back with a matter of fact sounding," Fuuuuck You!", without missing a peddle stroke. As I continued along my route towards the bridge I was thinking to myself how retarded that entire exchange was since we're both supposedly on the same side as cyclists. Ah, well, lesson learned and I felt small thinking about the whole thing. When the I pulled up to the light before the bridge the dude was there, too, having taken a different path. He goes, "oh, you're going over the bridge, too?" Well, well, I thought and quickly discarded any notions of stoking the situation with more animosity. We're on the same team, buddy, I said with a menacing grin on my face. The guy was spindly and nervous looking. He answered back with a snappy, "wanna race over the bridge?". Sure, I said. "I don't know if it's fair, though, because I have better gear ratios than you". He had a road bike and I was on my fixed gear Quattro Assi. My competitive, subtle cockyness, flarred and I said, how about we race to the apex (top) of the bridge. All up hill. Then I asked him if I drafting was against the rules. He said no and it was on. He jumped first so I jumped on his wheel. We flew past other poor bridge crossers. My legs burned from the the previous 10 hours already spent shuttling my way up and down the avenues. With 100 yards to go I jumped and immediately dropped him. It was as exciting as my time spent racing up and down the pyrenees. He conceded before I had even crossed the finish line. We rode down the other side together and I told him to google my name if he wanted to know why I smoked him over the bridge.


Work Machine. Recycled from my old Team Gomart bike back in the day. Eno Fixie wheel Built by Timmy boy at SBC in the 'Burg. Thanks, man. It's awesome.


Not oversized.


WV Mine Shaft?

Went to a little Pittsburgh Punk Anti-Flag show last weekend with the Meems. All access because she grew up with those guys.