"My son made that bike"

But first the pre-ride dinner Saturday night with my Dad who is in the Bay Area on business. We went to Nick's Crispy Tacos on Polk Street in SF. We are both Native Texans, and both have a taste for Mexican. We were both very impressed and quite happy with the tasty burritos and tacos. I think we also finished one of the plastic ketchup bottles full of hot sauce off, too.

Dad had fully loaded burrito, and I had one carne asada taco and one grilled pollo taco. I also choose to 'Nick's' my taco complete with guacamole and cheese. We both opted for the Negro Modelo (sorry Ron, there were not Lagunitas in sight). Most excellent eats! And then we continued to drink at the bar for awhile which we speculated that back in the day was probably a bordello to put it politely. Dad tells me that he may get sent to New Zealand on business...wheels start turning, and I ask October 2010, closer to October 23rd? I am not opposed to traveling with the Dad. No, 2012 he says. Drats! @#! But, still good to have in the back of the mind.

I think I dreamed about those tacos last night. I was still craving them again this morning.

So, Sunday morning arrives complete with sunshine and 61 degrees forecast. YAY! It's time for a long ride. Yes, indeed it was. Over the Golden Gate, into the Marin Headlands, up the climbs, down the hills - basically any road I could find to ride, I rode. Even if it dead-ended itself. And then it happened.



I cruised into new territory - Rodeo Beach - to sit for a few and watch the beautiful waves crashing. A man approaches me and strikes up conversation related to my bike. I swear it seems every time I ride my bikes, there is ALWAYS a complement to be had in some way shape or form.



Anyways, this gentleman asks how long I have had my bike - it took me a moment and then I said about 2004 or 2005. As I am typing this, I realize it's 2004. Six years strong! Woot. Okay, back to the story. I think we talked a bit further, and then he says to me, "My son made that bike." I say to him, "You are Sean's Dad!" Big smiles all the way around, and a few more words. Then, I met Jane, the Mom. Of all the places, and all the days. It was great!

Let's see, then kept riding into Sausalito, to Mill Valley, and then looped back. Stopped at Cibo Bakery for a cup of coffee and a quick bite - just enough to get me back into SF.

We do have winter here ,sometimes.This most recent Grasshopper managed to fall between rain days,barely.We had wind instead.The pro teams did they're own thing somewhere over the horizon.Us mortals had a good slug fest of our own.Thanks to Panaracer for the fresh road rubber

A bicycling way of life....

Back when I was a—more of a—greenhorn mountain biker, sometime in the early 90's is my mind's reference, and in the beautiful town of Bloomington, IN., I had a few cycling heroes. While most US cyclists doted on Greg Lemond and Miguel Indurain, I looked up to Art Keith and Matt Battin. These two were (still are) the local mountain bike studs that won/win a lot of races (locally, regionally, and nationally) and also won a lot of respect through their low key teach-by-example style. They taught me a lot about bikes and ‘attitude’ and inspired me to ditch the car and make bicycling a way of life. Well, this past weekend I experienced the thrill of being part of a 24-hour relay team that included the same Art Keith, who is now a great friend (and still fast as hell) and lives in Flagstaff, AZ; Matt Battin, who (also still fast as hell) flew out to AZ. from Bloomington, where he is a bike shop owner in Columbus, IN. (www.thebicyclestation.com/); and local Arizona cycling legend, great friend, and the fastest bicycling-as-and-alternate-form-of-transportation-revolutionary I know (www.azdailysun.com/news/local/article_a5aeed98-7334-543b-a544-80eaa0547867.html ), Randy Mason.

It was quite a thrill I tell ya’.

For the proverbial icing on the cake, we had nearly perfect Sonoran weather for the 11th (my eighth) Annual 24 hours in the Old Pueblo (www.epicrides.com/twofour/24.htm) and the race was on. Although I wish I could have ridden faster (I'm still slow) for these guys, I, nevertheless, had a great time, and I was once again reminded me of how important mentors and good friends can be--rather, are. Thanks guys.

I also want to thank Ben Proctor, Will Viktora Rob McPherson (and Tess) and many others for grand entertainment and superb support. Nice work to Soulcraft’s Keith Marchando—I wish we could’ve hung out a bit more. Next time.

Picture supplied by Ben Procter via Randy's and CJ's new bike show at www.flagbikerev.com

snow ride

up to valpariso again. been there alot this year. good rolling hills on the way up and back. had a good group today. might be skiing again tomorrow. there had been snow on the ground since the beginning of december. about to go crazy. thanks to cornbread for the pic.

All this snow is good for some things

Like skiing down the middle of the roadAnd storing excess beer

I Wanna Tell You About Stan Beaver & The Big Pink...

If you've spent any time around the single speed dirtbag scene, you've probably witnessed the high-powered, rocket-fueled shenanigans of one Dan Cheever/Stan Beaver. Dashing Rod Stewart döppleganger by day, liver product tester by night. Well approximately 8.5 years ago, during one of said Wednesday Night product testing sessions, ol' Stan Beaver decided to take a little nap. You no-nevermind that his chosen spot for respite was in the front yard of some unknown western Mpls suburban locale. When Stan woke up, his beloved pink (real) Salsa™ single speed was awol, and from that day onward we always wondered where it ended up. Well wonder no more, ye fans of bicycle recovery stories.

At yesterday's Twin Cities Bike Swap I was busy setting up my table of highly desirable bicycle detritus, when my retinas were assaulted by the unmistakeable Pepto Dismal® pink of Stan Beaver's Salsa, now just a frame+fork+stem. Wasting no time, I rushed over to the table, half carnival barking, half demanding "WHO'S GOT THIS PINK SALSA!?" A father and son team piped up. Their price tag said $500 obo, and the dad said he had bought it at a police auction, "10 years ago." "More like 8 years ago," I replied, and I told them that I know the original owner, giving them the run down on the "situation." While it was obvious that these two hadn't played any outright role in the Pink Lady's abduction all those years ago, I made a pact with myself that it was not going home today with anyone other than one of the Mpls Mafia. And certainly I was not going to shell out $500. A few twats, emails, and calls were put out trying to track down Cheever in Portland. Eventually we got connected and put the "seller" in contact with him. After some, uh, "negotiations" (involving Geno agreeing to give the young kid a deal on a frameset that he was essentially hoping to buy with any "pink proceeds,") I handed dad $200 cash, grabbed the frameset, plus the FSA crankset off his table which I recognized from the original build.

Time to make the donuts...

As it turns out, traveling with The Boss was a little more difficult than I expected. Every minute of every day he was slapping fork fulls of cake out of my hand, reminding me to stay hydrated or telling me that I needed to take the stairs as opposed to the elevator. "Remember, you're on my team now. As such you have to act like a responsible representative of the brand."
It might be time for me to renegotiate my contract.

Touring in France

well, these pics from my brother's
and my tour in France are a long time coming,
but they are certainly worth the wait (to me,
at least).
Last summer, my brother and
I landed in Paris and took a train outside of the city
to Versailles. From there, we hopped on our
bikes and started riding.
We quickly realized that there were several issues
with the planning of your trip. First, neither of us spoke French.
Second, we had not planned where we ouwl stay each night.
And third, the roads we had envisioned as being quaint country roads
with patched pavement were actually full on, three-lane freeways.
Eventually, however, we made it to Saint-Malo to see the epic castle,
le mont st. Michael.
Then we rode through Rennes
and down to the Loire Valley, staying at hostels and hotels
along the way. Upon arriving at the coast, it was
10:00 PM and we had nowhere to stay. So we asked around
at peoples front doors. After being turned down by six different people,
we were finally invited to camp in a family's yard. So we spent the night,
and woke up at six in the morning to continue meandering up the valley.
This was the best part, really, because we got to see sweet wine storage caves
built into the side of the cliffs.

We basically lived off baguettes and Nutella for the entire trip,
with the occasional meal here and there. All in all, it was an epic trip, and
I certainly learned a lot about myself, how irritable I get when I have been
riding for nine hours, and about bike touring. It was a rough awakening to the
potential problems associated with bike touring. Next time I won't
have a giant trailer swaying behind me the whole time!

On a different note, the riding in Colorado remains great aside from the
occasional muddy spots. Of course, it looks like the mud here is nothing
compared to california right now. I wish I was there doing grasshoppers! This
last one looked like a blast! Until next time,
this is daniel signing out