SDS and commentary

Money's tight these days.
I was gonna abandon the SDS ride,
mostly on account of how much it would cost me to get up, get it on and get back. Additionally a near total lack of preparedness (9 rides over 1 hour since January?!) was seriously anchoring the whole of my confidence.

There is a certain respect for living - and riding - within ones own means, and this year caused me to sincerely hold that in question.

Carpe Diem.

I know the riders and rides now will simply not be available to me later. So north by northeast I went.


Guaranteed, a day will come when there will be no more long rides, and then...no more rides. Physical impairments or limitations, or a mere fading of my kinetic spirit to the burdens of age or circumstance...I know there will be a last century. Perhaps it can be demoralizing or outright morbid to consider this, but on the other hand I consider it an opportunity to remind myself why I am compelled to keep my bikes rolling. The memories of long rides, even after a mere 20 years, are just too damn good to give up contributing to my own history that way.


I'll never forget:

We all rolled out of the lodge, a bit cranky, holding our breath on account of rainy weather and carpenters 3rd bike. Quickly though, we were enveloped by the dramatic beards hollow: A narrow V cut deep into the Alleghany country rock through which some CCC workers managed to bench cut a trail some 80 years ago. It's an Appalachian canyon, capped with 13 switchbacks that carry the trail up to mountain side - another world class trail.

Everyone was awestruck heading up the hollow. It was clear to everyone at that moment that this was indeed a magical part of the weekend - I can't remember seeing riders so collectively euphoric.

Etched in my head forever is the train, winding around those switchbacks - everyone laughing and yelping up and down at each other as the line wrapped around itself, 10 feet higher each time.

Thanks for reminding me why I ride.

Thanks to everyone for their company, conversation and to the mtb widows for their cuisine support. I wish I could package my experience and serve it back - minus the suffering of course.

IFP Tool and TALAS workings...

Well, the cost of having a TALAS cartridge serviced by Fox, PUSH, etc is so heavy, that I was able to make a few mistakes and still come out well over 100 bucks ahead of the game. Additionally, I now have a genuine understanding of how my fork works so I can continue to keep it working without the Fox Service umbilical. Also gained some more hum-drum practice in basic machining with mild steel.

Pictured is an IFP tool I made for myself - ones I sold on ebay tended to appear more refined.

In the works is a java applet that illustrates the TALAS system in action - a simple enough mechanism that is far from complex: Best described as clever and finiky. Initial Charles' Law calculations using empirical volume measurements and pressures indicate the system is only marginally linear under a narrow band of ideal STP. An idea is brewing for an infinitely adjustable TALAS type system that offers better linearity with less finikyness.

Riding Fast

Not riding messes with one's head.

No wonder people who don't ride are so strange to me.

Content.
Satisfied.
Learning what the man says to learn.
Following his instructions.
Working 8-6.
I've stopped riding for the time being:
Following instructions,
living like everyone else,
driving to work,
doing my homework ontime,
getting all As,
keeping the bossman happy,
it's all so damn easy now.
Watching the evening news.
Buying new khakis online.
Going to bed at 10.
A great life is achieved.
All my friends do it.
They love it.
They've been waiting for it,
the real job,
after 6 years of prep,
it's the climax.

Entropic, ambient forces.
Social gravity.
The rank of lowest energy.
Being reduced to a lowest common denominator.
Everyone is the same.
EVERYONE IS THE SAME.
You should work during the day because that's when everyone else works.
Oh wow, a job offer!
It's 65k!
Fine Print:
We expect you to be like everyone else,
drive to work in the city,
buy an overpriced shitshack in the burbs,
eat lunch at noon,
don't ask any questions,
obey.

Hmm, this job is
in Charlotte.
Raleigh.
Knoxville.
Philadelphia.
Boston.
Cleveland.
They only want 50 hour weeks.
...To start.
No pension, profit sharing or 401k though.
But...It could work.
Those cities have bike paths.
I could drive to the mountains on weekends.
Its only
4 hours
6 hours
8 hours.
...one way.
As long as I obey.
I'll go for a ride to think about it.

Viaduct.
3000 vertical...down.
The gravel rumbles,
the rig floats.
A return to the top
The southland in the springtime
Is there anywhere else to be in April?
I rise out of the piedmont,
into the high country.
The view collects in my soul.
I know the city, the job, the life,
would crush it.

And I could just never obey.
not that way.

"Withdraw resume from this online application?"
click.





"I must create my own system or forever become enslaved by another man's."