Good Karma Opps: Yet Another Reason To Ride A Bike

Traveling east on Sunset this afternoon in Echo Park I look down and pass a California driver license face up smack dab in the middle of the bike lane, just as is seen on the right. Doubling back to retrieve it, I'm next looking at the potentially thuggish mug of a young man named Israel who resides in the 90042 and wont' be 21 until next July.

I pocketed the ID and went about my business and the first thing I did when I arrived home was put Israel's address on an envelope and enclose a note which read: "Sometimes the best gift to give or get is the kindness of a good deed." It'll go out in tomorrow's mail.

New Year at the Golden Gate

in the biciblog email this week:

Hello, my name is Jason. I am bicyclist hailing from La Mirada (about 20 min from you). I just wanted to let you guys know that I am planning on heading up to San Fran to ride across the Golden Gate Bridge at 12am on New Years Eve. There is not any sort of significance to this little outing, except for the fact that it seemed like a totally sweet idea. I was hoping that maybe you could post this on your blog, calendar of events, or something like that. I have included links to two posts I made on craigslist (SF and LA), feel free to print them out and staple them up to your billboard or whatever. Additionally, feel free to post my email address if anyone has questions about the get together. Hope to see some of you folks there!
jason

on fixed gear riding

found this on The gallery

...The track frame and wheels are taut as a bowstring. My body is both the arm that draws it and the flying arrow. My eyes just lock onto the way ahead and my mind empties. The road, the bike and I are in perfect equilibrium at last. The hypnotic syncopated rhythms of my legs, lungs and heart correspond perfectly to the spinning cranks and wheels. The purring chain is my very pumping blood. I can pedal like this forever. The road a Mobius strip that leads me to myself. The demand of the pedals is precisely what I want to supply, no more, no less. I can stop this flow and the bike will carry my flaccid legs around or I can explode and drive, bouncing forward, to an ultimate, cadence-limited speed. But I am perfect as I am. There is no boundary between me and the bike...

by Matthew Boorer

LADWP Festival Of Lights Bike Ride

December 13, 2005 / 7 p.m. / Griffith Park

old school kitchen. free your bike.

i was lurking in the old pantry the other day and i found this flyer from the old BYOB days. rumor has it that jimmy lizama is the author and pink used to be the color of choice

Ridazz Conquer Hollywood

I was finally able to participate in my first Midnight Ridazz tonight and rather than drown my enthusiasm at the dive bar at the journey's end, I came home to try to make sense of it all. But it'll take awhile to come down from the adrenaline of the overall experience, not to mention splitting the lanes going the wrong way on a gridlocked Hollywood Boulevard like we fucking owned the place -- which we goddam did! So all I can offer is: AWESOME, and a small pre-ride photo set here on Flickr:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/wildbell/sets/1547946/.

UPDATE (12/13): Two brief bar-level POV videoclips from the ride can be found here at the Google Video site

Damn Glad To Be Here

By way of an introduction, I've been acquainted with the Bicycle Kitchen for more than a year, but it was only last August when I ventured inside to participate in the BK's inaugural wheel-building class, which changed my life.

Well, not like totally changed my life, but with the help of Jim Cadenhead it did kickstart a resurrection project on an abandoned road bike that I'd rescued only to let it sit around for so many months. Outfitted from the tires up now as a single-speeder with new everything, a home-brew paintjob, and a whole lot of assistance and support from Jim, Ben, Thomas, Somer and so many others, the ride I dubbed "The Phoenix" rose again and she officially rolled a couple weeks ago with that Sunday afternoon groupride down Sunset to the Not A Cornfield project. I've put about 50 miles on The Phoenix since that Sunday ride and this past weekend participated with about 15 or so other cyclists leading the Echo Park Holiday Parade. Good times.

There's not a trip I make on her that I don't feel a special bond. To some, though such talk is goofy. They don't get the connection that's made. To them, a project like that is just a big "so what?" and it's tough to make them understand the pride that comes with taking a rusted up and destroyed bike destined for the scrap heap and returning it to a new life on the road with my heart and my own two hands. They say they'd take the money I spent and buy an off-the-racker (or even two) at Costco, but where's the sense of accomplishment and adventure in that?

So I guess what I'm saying is that while the Bicycle Kitchen may not change your life, it can certainly change your point of view. So if you're new and curious as to what the Bicycle Kitchen has to offer, go on down and talk with one of the cooks on duty and hook yourself up with a project bike of your own. You may not believe there's joy to be found in replacing a bottom bracket or threading a brake cable, but there is.

Some photos of the cyclists in the parade can be found here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wildbell/sets/1503152

toxic bike

someone sent me these articles and even after this window popped on my screen with a radio shack add when i clicked on the link i decided to read them.

Nobody Bikes in L.A.
But they'd be a lot happier if they did
By Andy Bowers

The Bicycle Diaries
Is it possible to live in America without a car? Uh, sort of.
By Bill Gifford

you know, high gas prices, and the character decides in a heroical act of defiance to try and ride a bicycle and comes up with all this remarcable experiences that, why not, could make a great article, a little extra cash and a good excuse to the editor for showing up all sweaty once in a while. there seems to be a good intention in them. the idea that it is possible to ride a bike is permeating greater media. but they end with bitter commentaries that return happily to the confort of the car, after the picturesque adventure of the bicycle. pretty much in the fashion of the serialized tale where things go back to their normal state at the end of the episode.

these articles are cathartic tales in the sense that they release emotional tension (about driving your car, about paying so much for gas, about your long commute)but then lay down the reader in the unchanged shores of the real world (where there is nothing to do, unless you take the path of the deviated). i believe this format diminishes the power of the subject , marking it more as something in the world out there and less as something to incorporate to your life. bikes are presented in a prophylactic fashion. sorrounded by the bubble of the freakish.
their radical toxicity fogged by a quiet condescending chuckle.

Olympic BL. between Veteran and Fairfax SYNCHRONICITY AHEAD!! (All Over Los Angeles)

Scott G. sent this one to the cooks email list. i took the liberty to post it here, i guess you can reply to the original author to this anonymized email adress: anon-109781582@craigslist.org

Found this in the missed connections section which I am so fond of reading while I should be working.enjoy.
Scott.

Date: 2005-11-08, 11:42AM

You: Riding your bike down Olympic during rush hour.
Me: Nasa cap wearing commuter cheering you on from the interior of my transport bubble!

You: Amazing creature.
Me: Standing and applauding your tenacity, bravery, and enviromental friendliness. Or is it a case of frugalness? Maybe just effectiveness. Whatever the motivation. Your behavior riveted my stuck-in-traffic-listening-to-All-Things-Considered attention. LA radio sucks. I need to get Sirius.

Well enough with the compliments and asides-on with the story. Included herein: personal character flaws, like shyness, driving during rush hour, bitterness, and a sense of betrayal . And remember that little bit of PR in the tagline: synchronous events (not one but two) are in your future!

I first noticed you riding your ten-speed East on Olympic. At first I was like, this has got to be some homeless tweaker bitch fucking up rush hour and had no where really to go. Then I saw the ass-light, blinking red from that cute little dunk undulating in the swaying headlights of the car behind you. Wow, safe and legal. I never use my ass-light. I feel too much like a dork, but you were motoring right in the middle of the lane-a little like the tweaker above, but more I came to realize, like the serious biker you are trying to haul ass to your destination, no bullshit, your strategic riding caused you to pull way ahead of me several times. Of course slipping in and out of the assholes on Olympic riding up to the lights and hitting the green hard and pulling forward. That's the way to do it girl. I ride in rush hour once in a while and I know you just gotta take your advantage when you can. Enough of this B.O.B. I was actually entertained by your journey and rooting for yo
u. But
of course if you pulled too far ahead I could not see you. Blast, evil traffic--the cause and structure of the arc of our drama. Finally I passed you.

Radiant.

Thin and blonde and clad from neck to mid-calf (pant leg pulled up to avaid chain-age) in black. Curvy and cute, your hair pulled back in a pony-tail. Wow. I was smitten. Though I could not see your eyes, I know there was determination there, a hint of anger and the twinkle of victory.

I can't look long because the bastard in front of me has jammed his brakes, and whoosh ahead you pull. Staring ahead to see your progress I notice the beat up Escort has some out of state plates (probably Washington now that I think of it) with the word OLYPIAN. Yes my darling you were my slick OLYPIAN sliding through traffic down Olympic. Now I always take note of these events, we call them COINCIDENCE. One thing relates to another (yes the vanity plate was refering to olympian as in on who particpates in the Olympics or one who lives in Olympia) and of course Olympic was named in honor of the 1932 Olympics in Los Angeles. So this is just as I saw COINCIDENCE (keep reading Sychronicity still ahead).

I pass you finally three times. I lose you somewhere around Fairfax, which is good, because I blew a couple red lights in my furor to find you and I was worried about how you would make it through that long crazy intersection, too many lights to many crossing streets, a distracting Starbucks. I was sad, but I was making great time now to my appointment in Los Feliz.

As it would come to pass I was way early for my appointment, my appoinmentee was running late so I killed some time at Soap Plant, Wacko, La Luz de Jesus Gallery. It like a potato gun of stuff packed to bursting ready to exploded wackiness and underground art all over your face. I like the place don't make it there enough. So the rude-yet-o-so-hip clerk yells for us to bring our purchases to the front and leave. As I walk up I see a blond, cute and thin and dressed in black and I think. They must be everywhere. She's talking in a very familiar way to the rude-yet-o-so-hip clerk. Probably an S.O. Cool. But I happen to flash a look back in the door to verify your cuteness (Okay I was checking out your ass) and okay here's where my brain exploded just a little bit. ASS-LIGHT!!!

Yeah. No. What the fuck. The cosmos is fucking with me. Fuck you cosmos. Fuck you in the fucking ass fucking piece of shit cosmos. It is my Olympic Racer. Hot as ever and pant lowered to proper ankle length. But of course her body language said. "i'm talking to someone I really care about" so I didn't approach, because I was too shy, and I was glad I didn't go with my impulse to shout out my window earlier, I was glad I didn'y honk flash my highbeams or any other drawing of attention. That's just my bullshit shyness, but also in this case, well I did see her again. Fuck. O well. So this is the where SYNCHRONCITY resides. I looked for her bike. Locked up there right in front of Soap Plant, Wacko, La Luz de Jesus Gallery. And this is where my brian threw up on itself. This is where reality became a reality show, this is where all the acid and mushrooms loomed there ugly flashbacks. The model of bike she was riding...


Just guess...

Go ahead...

Yeah.

Olympic.

Fuck me.

At that moment I felt that the universe wanted me to come in there and sweep you off your feet and take you away from the torment of a 10.27 mile ride. Take you away from that clerk. When the store was finally closed I saw the two of you walk off arm-in-arm-arm-in-bike. The cosmos mocks me. But alas...

I recognize your soul. Really. I love to ride in traffic- the glory, the pain, the physical, emotional and spiritual satisfaction. I know. I understand.

this is my MC. I am drained.

Of course as I finished meeting with my writing partner, around midnight, I think I saw your ghost again. Smoking a cigarrette behind the restaurant at the north west corner of Vermont and Melbourne. My Olympic Racer, I think I could love you.

it's SOMERSET

to get to the skid flick

Things you find on your bicycle

On burlington, beween third and beverly, on the last little hill before home, this was a cry I couldn't ignore.

I put him in my pocket and walked the rest of the way. Cleaned him up, he's sure dirty, fed him and held him wrapped in a towel until he fell asleep.

HE (i think he's a he) NEEDS A HOME!!!

email Kelly at fireweed43bike@sbcglobal.net if you're interested.

Bicycle Kitchen Benefit Party!!

Lost and Found

I found this piece of paper folded up and nestled next to my rear tire
when I came out of school the other day. Of course I eagerly opened it,
wondering which sly friend had left me a secret message. But, no, it
turned out to be another one of those fascinating things that finds its
way into your path when you choose to ramble the city on two wheels. A
random person's hand-written budget. This sudden and unsolicited intimacy
with a passing stranger is interesting enough all alone. But as I read
it, it turned out that in fact it was a message! And it was loud and
clear! It was saying to me, "Remember that huge piece of metal that used
to cage you in? Remember the financial burden? Remember how traffic used
to be not fun? That aweful stress of trying to stay legal and maintained?"
and on and on... and I said to myself, "Yes! Yes, self, I do! Thank the
bicycle gods that THAT is long gone!" And so it is. This budget could
have been mine a year ago. At least half of it is car-related. But last
February I took the leap that seems so unfathomable to most in this city:
I got rid of my car. It was the best decision I've made in quite awhile.
It may still be this poor person's plight, but for me priorities #1 and 3
and 4 and 7 now only have four wheels when a friend is next to me, and are
fed by oil only when the tacos are especially yummy.....and I couldn't be
happier about it.

-Emily

riding stairs in naples

I have just gone round southern Italy by bike and now I have a place in Rome. Yes, Rome is a dynamic environment for riding. I really love it but the wide roman boulevards and the generally polite drivers cannot compete with Naples for sheer death-wish heart-stopping nighttime riding. I have never before been is such wonderful chaos. After I took off the panniers I went out for a pizza and beer in the spanish quarter. Riding in there is like being caught in a flash flood. the streets are rough with trolly tracks and broken glass. the cars and scooters are held together with tape and some do not even have lights. They come and go oin the narrow alleyways at will--always fast. From a sidestreet may shoot a stroller or a truck but nobody stops or even slows. hey, a vespa with a 13 year old smoking and honking after his girl. Chase him if you can its like playing with wasps. in the center of a rotunda it is a no-mans land. No other biker is fast enough to to enter or exit. in fact, there are few othe cyclists. Maybe they have been afraid, or killed off. And for dessert, try riding the tricky stairs that go all the way from the fortress on the hill to the sea. You will be very happy if you survive.

by David Sanford

media coverage

a video of the 2005 Cycle Messenger World Championships Skids finals. featuring our incredible skidding Somerset wearing a first edition fool bag. courtesy of bikeTV.

our ridazz

I've noticed that someone has been uploading pictures to flickr with the tag ridazz so i joined with a batch of scanned spoke cards. i'd love to see some more, not being much of a collector i've lost a few, but i managed to get the 1 year aniversary s.card, the Death in Venice s.card (to the left) and the symbol for the GUIDING LIGHT of TRANSVELOSTANTIATION in s.card form.
keep on taggin' those ridazz pics, and if you want more documentation don't forget the ridazz yahoo group and the mailing list. ridazz has been mentioned by some other L.A. bloggers: eric richardson who also made a nice flicker photo set of the august 2005 ride. blogdowntown has noticed and so has mr. hexod (who also made some link research about ridazz). our friends at cicle.org wrote a little piece with some cool pics. and there are two threads on bikeforum titled "
"Midnight Ridazz in Los Angeles and playing Dressup?" and "LOS ANGELES. MIDNIGHT. FRIDAY the 13th.". a post by Complacent P -oh man, this is a lot of e-attention- and sure, there is a podcast on bikescape. thanks to all for the web-cred and keep it midnight, keep it real.


updates:

october/2005
some nice nice pictures of the october Midnigth ridazz (Dead Theater Ride) by Mark Nealey. Thanks Mark!

bike boom

a calendar of cycling events in the Los Angeles area. i think this one sprout from bikesummer is not to be overlooked: calendar.bikeboom.com

bag culture

Eric Zo, the maker of legendary Zo bags is celebrating 20 years of bag making. retrospective of his work at lincart gallery. check it out if you happen to be around sanfran in september and send me your meditations about the role of bags in bike culture. i'm very intrigued by that subject as some of you might know.
congrats and respect to Mr.Z!

the voice of L.A

did i forget the sound? i mean. i ride and i ride, and i hear the sound of the street but it's so much more intense when i've been inside a car and then i ride the bike again. but the thing is, i haven't been in a car for a loooong time, thanks to the cycle gods, and now i feel habituated to the sound(s). oh, sound sense of marvel, come to me!
it will. i'm sure. but i do love when it comes to others, and they write it (mentioning the bike kitchen by the way), mr reed writes at the lavoice.org:

...Biking L.A. at night is an intimate romance with the streetscape. The smell of frying onions, the splash of tires through puddles from a carwash, the visceral WHOMP of passing boomcars ...

may he be blessed, and all of you who smell, feel and hear from your two wheeled vehicle-friends.

visitors from outer state

monday at the kitchen. one of those casual visitors walks in. this cool guy from chicago who works at the Working Bikes Coop. just checking out the place. kelly and i and vlad received him with some of that bici-warmth. it's cool how that interconnection happens. simple as that, and yet, complex informational procedures taking place. two wheeled empathy if you want.