Day Dreaming

I sit here in my office, In the River North section of Chicago, absolutely losing my mind. The weather has got me by the neck, choking off essential air to my tiny, tiny Brain. I’ve been endlessly obsessing about Dry Pavement, blazing sun and wearing only a kit, no hat, arm or knee warmers.. I’ve had enough, I can’t take another minute on my damn Trainer, No more one legged drillski’s, High Cadence pukalators or the Almighty 53/11 for 10 min at 60 barf-o-trons, blah, blah fucking blah…..I just want to be high speed and Free on the road getting tortured by my beloved friends and teammates, alternating between suffering and revenge a dozen times a ride….I long to limp back into town after 4 hours of 2 wheeled madness…



The Good News is over thirty of my team-mates and I are going to spring camp in San Luis Obispo, Ca March 8th thru the 15th …. 7 days of Riding and Vomiting thru the coastal mountains of central California….. This alone is like a beacon, calling me to the shores of sanity..
The countdown is on…… for a 25+ hour week on my bike… I can’t fucking wait……

Photo of the Day

This is why Trampolines are so damn dangerous in MIchigan

Hero of the Week

Bike Love Quotes

“What I love most about riding…..Is the freedom. When I was a kid it was my escape, An alternate reality ….and all these years later it’s still the same. When I’m on my bike I am completely relaxed and am only thinking about one thing, what’s in front of me”

“I love being on my clean burning, quiet, efficient machine in the city, ripping down streets, experiencing the rare life moments when everything gets quiet and seems to flow smoothly like I’m in the eye of a hurricane”

“What other sport could you be suffering till your eyes are bleeding and at that same moment look over and see snow capped mountains that are perfectly pristine and beautiful?”

“A day without my bike is a lost day.”

Man....I miss my friend... Summertime

Hurry Back

ARTIST OF THE WEEK

Looking thru my old CDs and Audio files, I was thinking about what influenced me as a young musician
Living in Chicago the last 15 years molded my tastes forever.....The mid 90’s were an exciting time musically. Styles were on their first laps, so to speak, Punk had spawned so many sub-genres and scenes .
I was a Huge fan of this band...


THE JESUS LIZARD, Who represents the Prototype 90’s Chicago Sound ..PERIOD, They effected so many, with those bombastic, driving Drum lines locked tightly with David Sims and his perfect post-punk snarly bass tone. Duane Denison painted over all that beautifully with a Tasty display of angry chords in a quazi-surf tone, very original and powerful …Lastly who can ever forget the unforgettable David Yow and his live performances. He was Like watching different Car Crash over and over again for 60 minutes leaving you slack jawed and sweaty…..more Later from the way back Machine

Hero of the Week

Very Important Job

Happy Monday

The Weekend...
Sub Zero..
Outdoor activity... Out of the question
Riding 2 miles to the gym sunday morning
I temporarily lost all feeling in my face and fingers...
Good times...
Other than sitting on my Trainer....
Trapped indoors..
I spent time doing these things...
A) Daydreaming of Backcountry Powder in British Colombia


Friends lives close and have invited, I'd be a dumbass not to go..

B)Netflix...Deadwood



Truly the most creative uses of the word "fuck" on television...pure poetry

Stay Warm....

Welcome to Detroit

Every child has his or her nemisis,mine was Brian Taylor, A tall bushy haired sixth grader with a mouth the size of a manhole cover. A real predator, He could sense my fear and preyed upon my shyness every single time our paths crossed.

I was a head shorter and unsure of my surroundings being new to city life, Brian Taylor had it in for me from the jump....Slaps, Punches and Insults would never end...The final straw was a Cruel, Cruel joke, He shows up one day in front of my apartment building acting incredibly charming......I should of known something was fishy,"There's a big football game and we need more guys, Jump on the back of my bike..I'll ride ya there". We show up to a field by the elementary school, no one's there except two of Brian Taylor's sidekicks listening to Boston on a giant ghetto blaster. Things get bad fast,a football is whipped at my head and I'm being shoved in three different directions while being showered in a cavalcade of choice insults outside my naive vocabulary. A milli-second before I endure a true beating i jet thru an opening in the fence and never stop until I get to the relative safety of my apartment and lock the door.



For weeks I avoid Brian Taylor's side of the apartment complex..he lived in the red brick buildings we called "The Reds"and I lived in the grey brick buildings shockingly called "The Grey's"..the Reds were no mans land for me...so The Grey's i stayed...

My best friend at the time Mark Oakley lived directly across the hall from me, A perfect partner for an eleven year old, We would race AFX slot cars thru flames, blow up army men with firecrackers and shoot his Crossman BB gun down the hall way under his fathers house rule we yelled"FIRE IN THE HOLE"before we blasted away at targets.

One saturday morning Mark and I were blowing up his Guns of Navarone army man set with several packs of black cat firecrackers and we heard a familiar voice outside the window three stories down, we peaked out the window and saw Brian Taylor under our carport smoking a cigarette with a friend.

I looked at Mark since he suffered similar tormenting from the person down below,We both instinctively looked over at the Crossman BB gun,our eyes simultainiously staring at the BB gun then back at our mutual shit eating grins, back and forth until I grabbed the Crossman and Mark grabbed the BB's.The gun was loaded instantly. If you have ever fired an air powered Crossman BB gun with pump action, you know several pumps is enough. I pumped that thing until it took both of us to close the pump to ready for action. I had one shot ........and ....one shot only.

We slowly and silently slid the window open about six inches and gently pulled the curtain aside just enough to acquire a sight line and fit the barrel of the bb gun out the window a couple of inches, Mark was whispering now like a seasoned soldier"breath slow,pick your target,gently squeeze".....I sighted up Brian Taylor,his back was to me,we were up three stories and across the street,he was standing still now, now was the time, I aimed between the shoulder blades and squeezed and saw the bb travel in slow motion and peg him in the back of his neck and bounce off, I slowly pulled the BB gun back and Mark quietly slid the window shut.....

The next sound we heard was the most satisfying and incredible fire truck like siren cry ever known to man. It started soft then developed into a wail as Brian Taylor jumped around like bee's were in his pant's before he broke into a sprint in the direction of the Red's............

To this day..........I hear Boston, I smile

Artist of the Week

Tim Biedron
Is a Chicago Tattoo Artist with mad skills in multiple mediums
Check him out

Electronik Supersonik

Rock This Shit

18 and Far from Home

18 years young, never shaven, completely unwise to the ways of University life. I chose Northern Michigan University or closer to the truth, It was the only school that would have me. NMU is in Marquette, Michigan, Deep into the Upper Peninsula five hundred miles north of Detroit, This was my first time away from home..

Day one....I arrive, My neighbor across the hall is loading motorcycle parts in crates and boxes into his dorm room, He says.."My name is Rich, Criminal justice major, Nice to meet ya".

The first Saturday morning in my new environment ,I discover fresh animal pelts hanging in the laundry room and "Rich" wearing a blood covered Carhart jumpsuit, He's wielding a large hunting knife and dirty animal traps are in the sink, The smell is ungodly, I ask "What cha doin Rich ?" , He say's" This is how I make my drinking money, Trapping and selling pelts", I nod, Say something intelligent like "Oh" and back up slowly, Politely smiling. Down the hallway I discover 3 upperclassmen watching cartoons in the TV room working their way thru a half gallon of very low quality vodka with a tang like mixer, Mind you it's 9 in the morning....

Being so far north and located on Lake Superior, Marquette, Michigan reaps snow averages well beyond 300 inches. It's not uncommon for 50 degree below wind chill factors during long winters from early October to mid April....As you can imagine dorm life was a bit Surreal with so many students suffering from cabin fever. We drank like Sailors on shore leave, Blend this with the creepy statistic of 5 guys to 1 girl .....It was like a Bizzaro version of Animal House directed by David Lynch



Third story window jumps into snow banks were a popular activity, until someone hit a bike rack, Criminal justice major "Rich" on the other hand would prefer to consume copius amounts of Yukon Jack and rappel naked in work boots,gloves and a hat, running across the side of the building over the windows of the women's floor trying to woo the ladies with his Wilderdude skills and furry physique...This would usually end up in a late evening of him piecing together his motorcycle from crates drunk as hell in his underwear covered in grease and oil listening Gordon Lightfoot, specifically the song "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" on endless repeat, mumbling incomplete sentences about those poor, poor bastards.




That winter thankfully became spring and Criminal justice major Rich and his bike in crates some how became a Harley Davidson and on that last day of school as we said our goodbye's, We helped him carry it down three flights of stairs and watched him ride away....waiving so long

Artist of the Week....Dosh

Best Flight Ever

The Day After Thanksgiving 2006
Departing Detroit 6am
I get to the Airport at 4:30 am
Bleary eyed from a night out with my Family
I endure the usual shoe removal and near cavity search going thru the
Gulag TSA Security checkpoint
Finally I board my flight to Denver
I'm near the front of the plane
Optimum positioning for the post landing exodus
Being in the aisle seat makes me unhappy
I much prefer the window for maximum slothing on any flight..
Eventually the herd finds their seats and we take off
I settle in nicely
My seat is almost agreeable
My neighbors fortunately don't have any obvious bad habits
They keep to themselves...Perfect....
The air is blowing on me, Maybe, I can Sleep
I"m actually enjoying this
The flight Attendants are lovely and professional
I take a deep breath and visualize riding down amazing trails in
knee deep in pow pow on one of
the 5 mountains I have a season pass to
Almost R.E.M.
Thru my subconscious I here the pitter patter of feet coming down the aisle way
franticly bumping into seats, Causing a commotion
I keep my eyes closed,It will pass............
At that very instant......
An odd sensation hits me.....
My right shoulder,Arm and leg feel Hot
As I simultainessly hear the culprit pass me
I open my eyes and notice......
That I'm covered in Vomit....Yes Vomit
People are screaming, Moaning and starting to hurl themselves...
I feel as though I'm in the eye of a hurricane...
Somehow I stay calm..and silent
The flight attendants jump into action
Their handing me napkins, Paper towels, Disinfectant, Soda water
Someone hands me Baby wipes.....
After many work intensive minutes.......
I'm able to remove all visible signs of Chuff
People around me are completely freaking out..
I look clean,but I certainly don't feel clean..
I'm calm on the outside but losing my shit on the inside
I'm a perpetual hand washer for fuck sake......
The aroma is amazing and the person across the aisle is dry heaving while
reliving the story over and over to his Neighbor on the other side...
Until....
I look him directly in the eyes with my best Charlie Manson stare and tell him....
Actually....I can't remember exactly what I said....
But his response was.."Ummm your right, I'm sorry, I'll be quiet"
I said ....Thank you.......
The flight Attendants kept trying to help as best they could,I saw
sincerity in there eyes, They felt awful for me...
As they were sprinkling Strawberry scented carpet powder on the floor
I asked for some....To maybe disguise my aroma slightly.....and I proceeded
to rub the powder in the affected clothing...
Perfect.......
I smelled like a giant Strawberry dipped in Vomit..for the remaining
2 hours of my flight...mmm

Best Flight ever