Your bike rides should be more fun...

By now many of you poor shits are riding in cold. 

Possibly snow.

Oh yea, you got a fat bike.

Sorry 'bout forgetting how badass and ahead of the times you were.

In case you didn't realize it the Fat Bike craze is...

Well,  Huge as Fuck.

Which makes you a little less cool than you think you are.

Sorry.

In fact a lot of you think they are for snow only.

Welcome to the world outside your box.

Muther truckin pool riding, pedal grinding, and the bastard ain't even fucked with snow yet.

While all that shit is great

I feel like someone in our high society of bike loving, beer drinking, love making, ass hattery should have thought of this...

Like.

A 

Loooooong time ago.

Just get few dumber than your average girls to slut it up and place handle bars on their hips.

Don't worry I am sure they got Fat versions also...

See?

( was that mean? )

thisbikelovesher

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder....

I have switched teams.

Not in the sense that 

that statement now takes form.

But in another sense.

I have left behind sweltering,

pavement contorting,

face melting 

heat.

I moved to the mountains.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire,

way too literally at this point.

As most are well aware, this state is one of fire breathing dragons. 

Each taking their turn, leaving nothing in their wake.

These dragons come in many forms,

lightening, natures stimulant;

an errant car dragging a muffler along;

my least favorite dragon....

the two fully engorged douche nozzles

who decided shooting a full propane tank

was what the day called for.

Igotnothingonstupid.

It was supposed to be my land of dreams.

Epic rides, leaving behind manicured society,

and grabbing my bike to bridge the gap between man's control

over environment,

and it's epic dominance of us.

tuning to the news,

both local and national, 

the stories are of grief

and flaming.

I learned to ignore, 

grabbed my bike, and head into the hills

To hide from the false prophet,

man.

I turned wheels to trail with an old friend from the waving hand of the north.

We sought out refuge from the delusion of society.

We grabbed a few hours worth of escape,

and realize,

just pawns in one big chess game. 

Which leads me back to switching teams.

myhandsnolongertoilforthebitch.

I sought refuge from the retail Cussed o mer.

Two jobs ago I lost my soul.

I started this here writing 

to cleans my mind from the filth I spent my days in.

That filth was the retail environment I was taking wage from.

This particular establishment

tiptoed around the dollar bill.

This $$$ was god almighty.

With it you could do no wrong.

If you possessed $$$ you ruled the kingdom for as long as you wished.

You could swear, spit, cuss, and threaten.

You were always 100% right.

You had $$$

There was no

"divorcing the customer"

" removing the cancer"

there was only 

$$$.

Andthatshitruledyourass.

This was no mom and pop.

This was 

corporatefuckinginsuranceandvacationsickdays

hell.

Folks I strayed.

I fell hard for the hook.

soulwassold.

I lost.

After too long I returned to the flock.

I found refuge in a mom and pop,

but there was a catch...

another evil????

The beloved Triathelon shop.

The fall from grace of every wrench...

or not.

Brothers and sisters

let me tell you it

was.

the.

best.

shop.

I have ever spun a wrench at.

The Tri geek was extreme here.

It had much force.

And it delivered.

Payed for every recommendation given.

No arguing over labor charged, if done right,

and with a mechanics intent

to make it right

to make it perform magic.

This was heaven.

Evenformyeverlovingmountainbikingass.

That's right kids,

I loved a TRI shop.

And.

I.

Am.

Ok.

Then life happened. 

We moved.

And now I work behind the Wizard's curtain.

Industry Job.

yourbikehatesyou

Leap Lemmings Leap

We are the circus clowns of the industry.

We make no decisions on what people are offered.

They flock like sheep to the newest offerings.

Half of which will never work.

(sram front derailleurs).

But they are offering it in Black now...

who is the fool now?

The industry works in crazy ways. 

We think we are different than the rest.

We cycle.

In fact, we just repackage the same crap in different boxes.

Anodized bits and pieces anyone?

‘Cause that was never done before...

Neon?

Nope never been done before...

Now I am probably joining the old grumpy guy club,

but someone has to use their head.

How much more fucking nonsense

are they going to feed us????

A 

fucking

LOT

Never ever seen that eh?

or...

K2

So really?

How many more bad ideas are we going to pony up a ton of money for?

I am a betting man.

And I am willing to bet 

that a shitton of you are

going to go jump on road disc brakes.

Fuck.

That.

How can I possibly trust that a frame manufacturer

is going to do their homework?

I mean real fucking work.

Like for say,

 compensate for some idiot putting too big of a rotor on his bike?

You know,

for more power?

Right. 

US mechanics know there is more than one idiot out there.

Like the one who will put SRAM on their bike.

Let's just say until they can figure out how to make any mountain bike brake work,

Fuuuuuuck that.

No sir, not me.

That shit is dumb.

Don't get me wrong.

I like the technology and the advancements.

But slow your fucking roll.

There is no need for it.

No one needs electronic shifting.

Hey.

gobackupthereandreaditagain

Really.

You

 don't.

Is it badass. Yup.

But realize, as you continue to vote with your dollars and 

keep up with the fucking Jones',

the rest of us,

live in reality.

What the hell was ever wrong with this?

Honestly, its lived longer than most of you, 

and certainly longer than a lot of the media/marketing lemmings

who are pushing this down your throat hole.

You going to call an electrician

or roll down the street to the bike shop?

(trick question asshat, we all know you are loading the Bimmer right now to drive

two blocks over to Starfucks, and then coming down in a hizzy

because you just had to win the Tuesdaynightshoprideworldfuckingchampionshits.)

Bring me a beer.

I am the one giving you the grimy handshake.

the wrenches speak the truth.

We get paid either way

but yelled at only one way.

yourbikedoesnotneedelectric.

Of Whale tails and Mustache rides.....

I am all in for creativity.

This gem is pure creativity.

Not too sure about functionality....

Yup.

You are seeing that.

A mustache seat.

An all day epic aboard a 'stache.

Everybody loves a mustache ride right?

Everyone except your nuts if you try to get back over the seat.

Right about now there are a handful of

Drunkcyclist.com guys trying to imagine

a scantily dressed lass perched precariously over this "saddle?"

I scoured the interwebbage and could not find anywhere

to procure this fancy.

I did find 

which seems fair. 

Really.

I found this also.

A bit of tickle added I guess.

But they are a far cry from the full blown

saddle sore inducing

mustache ride

OG.

Looks like a one off but hell....I'da made a lot of them.

Sell them like hotcakes I would

I did not try to mount it.

Seemed a bit odd for me.

I mean who am I to 

ride another man's mustache?

I am full confident in my manhood.

It was just that

this 

particular chap.

Was about 6'4.

and rocking 240lbs.

I was clearly not partaking of his 'stache.

This is what we do....

Sorry. 

I am not cut from the cloth of lemmings.

There has never been a pied piper playing a tune I 

felt the need to follow.

The only suit that has ever fit consists of shorts and t-shirts.

jeans fall in there from time to time but

the point is I wear what fits. 

My hands are grimy.

It takes a simple look to know that these are the tools of my trade.

My hands.

Cracked.

Scarred.

Sometime they betray me,

 they hurt,

 bleed,

 and fail to follow the inputs. 

I have no desire to get the corner office. To punch a 9-5.

I want to make your bike sing fucking sweet songs.

Click.

Whir.

Swoosh.

There is a simple pleasure you can never understand about making a bike sing.

We wrenches.

We make your day,

 your night, 

your weekend.

We make the tool you use to escape, better.

We punch in and grab a Joe,

 clip the apron over our heads,

and prepare to dive into your filth.

You never bring us the clean bike.

Yours is a dirty bastardized version of what it should be.

You are too busy to notice, 

the bike becomes the street urchin spanging ( that's begging ).

You only notice when it makes a noise or goes flat.

Wrenches become the police you call to rectify the distaste.

Your lack of preparedness causes us grief you'll never understand.

Wrenches aren't there to be holier than tho.

We just turn.

Turn tubes,

turn tires,

turn gears,

forever spinning in a tornado of dust,

sports drink crystals, 

and your pure fucking filth.

All we ask is some respect.

We make pocket change for wages,

life ain't all about the greenbacks.

It's about doing for those who cannot,

shredding the proper piss outta whatever two wheeled device

puts a rise in your pants

or a wetspot in your underlings.

For wrenches...

its.

about.

fixing.

It's Friday.

Bring 

your

mechanic

a 

cold

sixer.

yourbikehatesyou.

Dead Weight....

Say you are a weight lifter.

( which is dumb shit to do...pay money to join a gym and lift weights. I mean for fucks sake,

you can pick up rocks for free.)

You are looking to add a little cardio to your routine,

drop some chub and get a bit of fitness.

Running would be shit when you weigh

260 and don't have a neck. That would suck a bag of dicks.

So logically a bike is in order.

But fuck man use some sense. Not this bike.

This is a cousin to 

The Shitbike.

Take a look at the whale dick err seat beam.

That ain't gonna work forever, or maybe it will, but I am not willing to test it.

I certainly have a neck, and am fond of me nether regions, so sure thing buddy

take your 260+ pound 'roid ridden ass and plop it down on the beam.

Them Aero Bars are sweet.

Choo borrow them from Lemond?

I have rarely, if ever, discouraged anyone from riding a bike.

This time I had to.

Imagine how many people muscle guy would have beat the shit out of?

I mean a big mass of man muscle pedaling around on this?

Tell me you could refrain from laughing.

Some shops have a lot of extra time on their hands....

most of the shops I ever spun wrenches in 

are too busy to play with that type of nonsense.

But hey,

It's still a better use of a trainer than sitting still and pedaling 

for hours on end

with no 

differentiation between you and a 

hamster.

thanks Dirty for the link.