The Steampunk World
Thursday
I went for a little bike ride after work on Thursday. Singular's job required that she do some field work that day, namely Wrigley Field, and so I knew she would be at the game for a while. I cruised around my neighborhood and tested out my new Pollution Emission Emulation Unit (PEE-U), which was a stunning success.
Ran into a crazy guy (you can love bikes, but just don't... LOVE bikes) who identified my frame as a Sears Free Spirit. Sears has been producing Free Spirits in both bike and bra form for decades, so I believe it, though a preliminary google search doesn't turn up any pictures of my model year.
I was cruising by the famed Congress Theatre when I remembered that I'd been invited to this Logan Square neighborhood bike association meeting that took place on Thursdays "by the theater". I'm always up for beers, and fortune had found me near a place where I had been invited for beer. Perhaps my subconscious was what led me there. I peered in the windows but the place was abandoned. Next door was nothing but a block full of locked-up storefronts. Then a guy approached on one of those bikes that you can tell the owner is serious about it- stripped down of everything uneccessary, well-worn handlebar tape, and in this case, a smaller front wheel on a road bike for the super-dooper ass-in-the-air position. This guy is a serious biker, I thought, I'll bet he's going the same place as I am. I turned to peer into the theater again, and when I turned back, the guy's bike was locked up but he had disappeared. What the?!?!
I cruised around some more and happened back by the place when I saw someone coming out of one of the (seemingly) locked and abandoned storefronts. I went inside. A sign proclaimed that I had entered the A-zone.
Apparently, the A-zone is a sort of base for various activist operations, mostly centered around the big A, Anarchy. It looked as if it had been a coffee-shop at one time, or maybe they were just going for that feel. There were mountains of flyers, tables and chairs, and various tacklebox-faced freaks hanging around. They had a kitchen that said ABSOLUTELY NO ANIMAL PRODUCTS ARE ALLOWED IN THIS KITCHEN... EVER! on the door. It was clear that many different organizations used this place, from the artist space in the basement, to the stage where shows were obviously held, to the bike corner where my buddies were drinking beer and putting together bikes.
At this point the organization is pretty much a bunch of guys putting together bikes to give to neighborhood kids. They (and by my attendance, we) have plans for some community rides and such, but things are pretty loose at this stage. At the very least it's an excuse to have beersday, and at the most, who knows?
On my way out I put the two leftover beers in the fridge. I have no idea if beer is vegan or not. Uh oh. I could tell that this was not the type of atmosphere that would be very forgiving or understanding about that sort of thing. Fucking humorless Identiopaths. I giggled at the thought of there being a vegan riot upon the discovery of some beer in the fridge.
I headed home with Bikefreeek, who happens to live two blocks from me. Sure enough, the potholes of Milwaukee Avenue proved to be too much for Noam Chopsky's weakened state. The metal on the fork tore, and I took another dive, and had to do the Walk of Shame again. Bikefreeek understood, he's a big-time rat-biker (the Rat Patrol being a loose association of locals dedicated to building crap bikes out of junk and riding them into the ground) and has a chopper so untrustworthy that he won't ride it further than he can carry it. This point marked the end of a steady decline in fork durability that started the day I took Noam off that drop by the aquarium, although my previous wreck was unrelated to this particular weakness. Since so little weight is ever put on that front wheel, I think I can get by with buying another fork, replacing it, and NOT jumping, dropping, stair-riding, and standing up to crank my way up hills. If I'd never done any of those things it never would have bent at all. What does not kill Noam makes him stronger.
Walking the bike back, we ran into other dork-bikers who were excited about an upcoming geek-bike rally in Minneapolis on Memorial Day. Too bad I'm busy that day. I'm finding that there's a large population of choppers, tallbikes, funnybikes, and various mutants in the city, though most people ride something sensible and save their projects for the parades. The nice thing about this community is that it's wholly non-competitive, and there's no sense of who's cooler than whom. It's all about what you do. I have instant credibility with any of them because my chopping ability is right there in front of them, and anyone who got into chopping after me would receive only encouragement from me and the rest of 'em. These bikes are so dorky there's no room for cool. There's also no room for trash talking about what you're GONNA do. You just do it, put your metal where your mouth is, and you're automatically accepted. I have found a small pocket of anti-cool. I like this.
I went for a little bike ride after work on Thursday. Singular's job required that she do some field work that day, namely Wrigley Field, and so I knew she would be at the game for a while. I cruised around my neighborhood and tested out my new Pollution Emission Emulation Unit (PEE-U), which was a stunning success.
Ran into a crazy guy (you can love bikes, but just don't... LOVE bikes) who identified my frame as a Sears Free Spirit. Sears has been producing Free Spirits in both bike and bra form for decades, so I believe it, though a preliminary google search doesn't turn up any pictures of my model year.
I was cruising by the famed Congress Theatre when I remembered that I'd been invited to this Logan Square neighborhood bike association meeting that took place on Thursdays "by the theater". I'm always up for beers, and fortune had found me near a place where I had been invited for beer. Perhaps my subconscious was what led me there. I peered in the windows but the place was abandoned. Next door was nothing but a block full of locked-up storefronts. Then a guy approached on one of those bikes that you can tell the owner is serious about it- stripped down of everything uneccessary, well-worn handlebar tape, and in this case, a smaller front wheel on a road bike for the super-dooper ass-in-the-air position. This guy is a serious biker, I thought, I'll bet he's going the same place as I am. I turned to peer into the theater again, and when I turned back, the guy's bike was locked up but he had disappeared. What the?!?!
I cruised around some more and happened back by the place when I saw someone coming out of one of the (seemingly) locked and abandoned storefronts. I went inside. A sign proclaimed that I had entered the A-zone.
Apparently, the A-zone is a sort of base for various activist operations, mostly centered around the big A, Anarchy. It looked as if it had been a coffee-shop at one time, or maybe they were just going for that feel. There were mountains of flyers, tables and chairs, and various tacklebox-faced freaks hanging around. They had a kitchen that said ABSOLUTELY NO ANIMAL PRODUCTS ARE ALLOWED IN THIS KITCHEN... EVER! on the door. It was clear that many different organizations used this place, from the artist space in the basement, to the stage where shows were obviously held, to the bike corner where my buddies were drinking beer and putting together bikes.
At this point the organization is pretty much a bunch of guys putting together bikes to give to neighborhood kids. They (and by my attendance, we) have plans for some community rides and such, but things are pretty loose at this stage. At the very least it's an excuse to have beersday, and at the most, who knows?
On my way out I put the two leftover beers in the fridge. I have no idea if beer is vegan or not. Uh oh. I could tell that this was not the type of atmosphere that would be very forgiving or understanding about that sort of thing. Fucking humorless Identiopaths. I giggled at the thought of there being a vegan riot upon the discovery of some beer in the fridge.
I headed home with Bikefreeek, who happens to live two blocks from me. Sure enough, the potholes of Milwaukee Avenue proved to be too much for Noam Chopsky's weakened state. The metal on the fork tore, and I took another dive, and had to do the Walk of Shame again. Bikefreeek understood, he's a big-time rat-biker (the Rat Patrol being a loose association of locals dedicated to building crap bikes out of junk and riding them into the ground) and has a chopper so untrustworthy that he won't ride it further than he can carry it. This point marked the end of a steady decline in fork durability that started the day I took Noam off that drop by the aquarium, although my previous wreck was unrelated to this particular weakness. Since so little weight is ever put on that front wheel, I think I can get by with buying another fork, replacing it, and NOT jumping, dropping, stair-riding, and standing up to crank my way up hills. If I'd never done any of those things it never would have bent at all. What does not kill Noam makes him stronger.
Walking the bike back, we ran into other dork-bikers who were excited about an upcoming geek-bike rally in Minneapolis on Memorial Day. Too bad I'm busy that day. I'm finding that there's a large population of choppers, tallbikes, funnybikes, and various mutants in the city, though most people ride something sensible and save their projects for the parades. The nice thing about this community is that it's wholly non-competitive, and there's no sense of who's cooler than whom. It's all about what you do. I have instant credibility with any of them because my chopping ability is right there in front of them, and anyone who got into chopping after me would receive only encouragement from me and the rest of 'em. These bikes are so dorky there's no room for cool. There's also no room for trash talking about what you're GONNA do. You just do it, put your metal where your mouth is, and you're automatically accepted. I have found a small pocket of anti-cool. I like this.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home