Are you really THAT ignorant?

You insult the hell out of someone when you hand them 

a tire with SHIT on it,

you further that insult when 

I have to change the damn tube inside said tire.

You are a fucking moron of epic proportions. 

A fucking giant.

You are a full grown adult who cannot change a flat?

Who fucked your childhood?

You're probably one of those "gamer kids",

scared of the light and shit.

Listen, doucheboy.

Grab a $7 set of levers and spend the next 

ten minutes figuring out how they work.

Hell, youtube it you lazy bitch.

So I state "gross" rather loudly,

grab a pair of blue gloves.

Snap them on loudly.

and place the most expensive 16"

tube I have in your child's stroller wheel.

Tactically place the shit wheel facing you and ring you up.

And I watch.

In.

Disbelief.

As you touch shit.

But I am not done.

I must make you aware of your full douchebaggedness.

( Made that fucking word up just for the occasion )

"Hey, you might wanna be careful where you grab that."

"why?"

"Because it is covered in fecal matter."

So have an nice lunch you poop toucher.

Want to figure out what's wrong with society?

Like nail it?

Wait tables, tend bar, or spin a wrench.

It is amazing that people can belittle one another in so many ways.

Do you really want to piss your server off before you order food?

But, yet you think it is ok to piss off the guy you are going to 

pay to work on your bike?

the same bike you are going to win the 

Tuesday night world championships on?

( Or your lame ass Sprint Tri?)

Really?

Drive by Eliptigotted

Remember this?

I can barely forget.

Working on that monstrosity 

was less than fun.

Can't clamp that in the ol workstand.

So it brought me to my knees.

So what do you think was going through my mind 

when this pulls up?

I turned to my co worker and let him know he had the next two repairs that walked in.

I ain't lying.

I did not want to even talk to the fools that were ballish enough to 

buy TWO of them things,

let alone be brazen enough to get a roof rack installed

and haul them everywhere.

That shit ain't right.

Turns out the poor bastards had a job.

This job was to drive around and try to get people like me to take them seriously.

Not.gonna.happen.

I had their job. 

Only it was bikes.

real bikes.

very nice bikes indeed.

not this.

I don't have the best job in the world.

I work on your piles of shit.

But I don't have the worst job either.

It has to be tough when the least expensive one of those 

is $1799!

But I do deal with morons.

Daily.

Some try to sell me shit at work.

Standy, standback, trackstand....cue the sony keyboard it's the bikers we all love to hate...

Hipsters.

Really?

No like,

do you believe in unicorns
 really?

Shit man, maybe I am getting to be my dad or something.

But Holy hell

Wear you own damn jeans,

not your sisters.

Cheerleading shoes are for cheerleaders.

And Fixed gear bikes are for the track, real messengers, and cyclists in general.

I can't fucking stand it when some three pack a day

college douchebag wannabe

comes in and takes 45 minutes to explain that their tire is flat.

No shit.

What,

did you piss off your unicorn?

I want to knock that guy over.

It would probably take him 27 minutes to count all his change to pay for the flat fix.

Standing in front of me,

asking me about deep V rims,

bitching about how much they cost,

fucking fingernails on a chalkboard.

He probably practiced all week for this,

his shining moment of glory.

the trackstand poseur.

Now tri geeks are a special breed.

so what the hell do you get when you cross a fixter and a tri geek?

ahh holy hell

I just puked in my mouth.

Brother

Brah

Bro.

NOONE

wants to see that. 

 Put a shirt on,

pull your tight pants up,

and color coordinate your glasses for the love of god Brah.

And I want PBR back,

you fuckers find some other beer,

that shit ain't for looking hip.

It's for drinking on a ride, or for wrenching on my own rig.

Them bastards that pinned a Blue Ribbon on that can 

never meant for dudes wearing girl jeans, cheerleader shoes,

and Kanye West shades

to tilt it.

Ya'll are worse than frat boys and a J crew catalogue.

trendy little bitches.

I got nothing.

( the photos were stolen off the interwebs, and the photog has nada to do with this site)

Detroit has a skyline too...

Bonus points for figuring out that title.

Post it if you got it.

No google.

Use your brain.

So back in the day,

back from whence I came,

A city of hard buildings...

A city where your chunk of the earth was a square you put a house and yard in.

You measured your worth by the size of your square,

and what you had within it.

Trees grew up surrounded by cement, 

and showed their disdain by pushing that same captor upwards.

Strollers would catch that piece of hate and stall.

Mothers would wrangle the stroller over the pushed pavement,

old people would stumble,

and us kids....

Well, we were different.

That crack,

that slice of tree hate,

that was our launching pad.

I learned back then that bikes were fun,

a toy.

The brothers on the block also taught me that they were transportation.

A way of showing the man that they were determined to make it.

A way of saying,

I got this.

They had style.

They made style.

And damnit,

 they invented the holy grail of old white people.

The comfort bike.

OG.

We call it

 Detroit style.

( I am sure Chicago,Philly, and NY had something to do with it also )

Them dudes worked hard all day.

They had no interest in getting bent out of shape on the way to or from work.

Bam!

The first comfort bike.

yourbikehatesyou.

Epic Win....it's been happening for a while now.

Your bike sucks.

Your wheels can't compare to this.

There is no off the shelf,

over the counter.

or prescription that can 

make your parts big enough to handle this.

Most of you have seen this on

Drunkcyclist

If you have not then your webs are in all the wrong places.

This here is a zombieapocalypse winning bike.

It can handle you,

your whining pathetic little ways.

It has a cult.

Cliques are for nancy boy/girls who ride Specialized.

These believers will crush your soul.

Having shredded with Slappy I can testify that them wheels

keep rollin.

Yo!

That shit is actual size and will 

crush/materialize

every dream you have ever had.

Religion was created to allow big 26" wheels to crush

your 29. 

No one gives a shit about your 29.

I can attest that 26 is in fact the new 29.

Why?

How?

Pugsley.

Game fuckin over.

26 just won the wheel war.

All your wheels are belong to us.

Disclaimer

I don't own one yet.

 I am getting the light shed upon me.

Brothers and sisters,

that light is bright.

It's coming for you.

(google that for scary) or light

Yourbikehatesyou.

It 

Has 

Seen 

The 

Truth

be gone for a bit

Finally going to get some time off.

Which of course means I am going to work on my own bike.

It truly hates me.

I am unaware of a more intense hatred than that of a bike owned by a wrench.

Never ridden enough.

Never.

There are things we do to our own we would never to do the consumer/customer/asshat.

You would piss solid vinegar if I told you the tale of my cassette.

Chain?

I should be killed.

But I know one thing.

My bike shifts,

it remains quiet,

it rarely if ever causes a pause on the ride,

and it remains true.

Make no mistake about it, there are things that are done to my bike,

that never should be done.

Any and everyone who has ever turned a wrench will tell you that.

It is the only trade secret.

Our shit works when there is no way it should,

when common sense screams fail,

we push on.

Why?

Because we don't get to ride the same as you.

We hear different than you.

We feel things you cannot imagine.

But mostly.

We know how damn good that beer is gonna taste.

See you next week. I am off to destroy some cells with the likes of some 

Drunkcyclists,

and a ragtag group of guys who just want the ride to include beer and other good things in life.

Cheers till then.

Angry Buddhist.

Love is a many strange thing...

A relationship with your bike can be a love/hate thing for sure.

as a kid your bike was the first real taste of freedom.

You could jump on it and pedal away from your home, 

watching your yard and parents watchful eye disappear.

Pot ain't the gateway drug.

Your bike is.

You get high with it, and it drags you to lows you never dreamed humanly possible.

You meet strange new friends, lose strange old ones,

and go to places you have never been before.

Face it you got a crew when you got your first set of two wheels.

you would explore further and further away from the safety

and confines of the block. 

Skidding was the first sign you were the badass.

No hands gave you the feeling of getting away with something,

stealing extra amounts of freedom.

But face it.

Guy or Gal.

True bikeness was attained when you got off the ground.

THAT 

feeling was different.

Sorta like when you first got on a road bike.

The efficiency and speed were very new,

strangely unifying.

This is where roadies and mountain bikers/BMX

separated themselves.

Sure you do both,

but somewhere you are just one.

UH, so what the fuck happened?

Oh honey,

if that's love,

 you are twisted.

Maybe in a good for the night way,

but not in a good GOOD way.

Lube is good.

Lube is bad.

It can do wonders for longevity,

or lead you to naughty, DIRTY, dirty places.

Lots of lube does not equal lots of love.

Sometimes love makes you crazy.

Makes you see things in a different light.

Sometimes it opens you up.

Other times you just see shit ass backwards. ^

Most of us keep our love life and relationship close to the vest.

You may open up and tell your friends somethings,

to help you vent,

to help you sort shit out.

But brothers and sisters,

when you bring your love to my shop...

any shop...

You spill your deep, dark, dirty secrets.

You cannot ever hide them from the wrench.

It knows.

We know.

Most of you should be disgusted with yourselves,

ashamed even.

But you are not.

You think we don't know.

Believe me.

We.

Know.

Everything.

PS. Look me up on the facebooks.....

Easier on your darn phone things i guess.