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Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Dear Wheel,

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Thank you, dear Wheel. It's been a year and a half since I designed and built you with friends Sheldon and Miller. Yes, you were more difficult to raise than the average 3-cross, and I had to lace you more than once before I made you right, but when I finally finished, you were strong and beautiful.

Since we've been together, you've done so much for me.

Like a good luck charm, it was the day after I first rode you to polo that I landed my first bike job.

Besides hundreds of commuting miles, we've shared a few alleycats, I've played countless games of polo on you, spraypainted you for a tweed ride, cyclocrossed you more than once, and generally given you the kind of abuse I've raised you to love. You've even helped spawn a cousin—a wheel I never would have had the courage to ride across America if it weren't for the trust we had built.

Now, with one side of your hub stripped beyond any threadability, and the other cog'd with glue, I cannot remove your broken spokes, and joke about you as my "custom 30-spoker," as a loose nipple rattles between the walls of your rim.

Thank you, wheel. You have done so much for me, and, even after I build another, I will continue to ride you until you become dust. And then I will put you on my wall, with other decommissioned bike stuff.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

reordering time

This forgotten bike has been locked up outside Millrace Studios for
weeks, deteriorating. Today, I was so tired of looking at it,
sideways, rear wheel out, I healed it with my pocket tool and a few
spare minutes before class. Planning to slowly fix it up over time as
a secret performance piece. Maybe its owner will take it back by the
end of the term.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

fueled by oppression

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Friends from polo Ian and Rose have a band with their friend Joe. They played the Jackalope last night. I recorded a few songs, one of which was actually bike-related.

It was a really fun set. Aside from the music, highlights included general sassines, darts, beer, and watching Ian try not to drop a tambourine while playing the melodica.

They're called Fueled By Oppression. The songs mentioned above are probably called "End All Be All," "Life Not Lawns," and "Fair Weather Cyclist."

PS there were a couple polo bikes there; check out this knuckle guard Boone brazed to his left handlebar:
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