Good fuck, is it Sunday already? Jesus Christ, the days have gone all turbo on me.
Anyway, I have roadrashed the living shit out of my left elbow & knee, the result of going riding with Joe Young on friday night. The bike I've been riding since I got here is Joe's old full-suspension Diamondback. Not the toughest thing out there (certainly not as tough as his current ride, which he put together specifically to go leaping off of anything leapable he might find in town or country), but enough for some simple bouncing around. Or, at least, enough for some simple bouncing around when the owner is around to say, "Yeah, go ahead and try to bunny hop up that curb and then go jump down those stairs." Which, yeah, I did. And I have to admit that there was a fair amount of flying-headfirst-over-the-handlebars-,-screaming going on, but, hey, chicks dig scars, right?
So, anyway, yeah, the upshot of that is that the Young has me half convinced to take that money I was going to put towards a commuter bike and spend it, instead, on kinda the scootiepuff Jr. version of a jumping-off-shit bike (around $450, SPT bike, good frame but a short-travel front fork, rim brakes & a wheelset that I'd probably turn from rounds into ovals in pretty short order) and working out a deal with him for the road bike that he's been putting together which has too large a frame for the Young, but would probably be just right for the Billyhank. And, shit, a road bike's better transport that a trail or mountain bike anyway (for those of you unaware of terminology, a road bike is a lightweight bike with no suspension and very thin tires [think old school ten-speed with about three times as many gears] and are really only suited for smooth, regular surfaces; trail/mountain bikes have at least a front suspension [and sometimes a rear as well], a heavy-duty frame built to take some abuse and knobbly tires that can get some traction on pretty much any kind of surface. The Diamondback I'm riding right now is a full-suspension job with tires like tank treads and a three-inch front fork. And it looks cool and all, but, shit, it's a lotta bike to haul from Sand Point to Downtown & back everyday.), and I'll finally be fast enough to beat all those jerkass spandex guys on their Dayglo Specializeds. Fuckers.
And then last night we (the Young, Psycho James & myself) went down to the Tractor to see Deadbolt, "The Scariest Band in the World". Great fun drunken times listening to great loud fun roackabilly hotrod surf rock until the last song of Deadbolt's set when James got jumped for no real good goddamned reason and I ended up peeling guys off the pile of bodies on the floor until I got down to the man and spent the next hour keeping one arm around his shoulders and trying to find the Young (who was feeling his drunkenness in a huge way and headed out early; understandable. We started the night at Azteca where we each had, shit, let's see, I had five margaritas [I know, I know. Sometimes I can drink any and everything, sometimes I can't..], I think James matched me, Joe was certainly in there, four or five, then some beers at James place, then many, many beers at Hattie's Hat & beer and shots @ the Tractor (James kept disappearing every ten mintes and coming back with a fresh round)....Good Lord, that was an awful lot of drinking, wasn't it? Suddenly, I don't feel so bad about feeling so shitty today.
Hmm.
Anyway, that's about it. Oh, also, the second band last night, The Octabites, kicked fucking ass. I only mention it 'cause they kicked fucking ass. And their CD is only $5. So, yeah.
All right, Harvey Birdman is on, so I'm out. Have some fun kids and I'll talk to you soon.
Anyway, I have roadrashed the living shit out of my left elbow & knee, the result of going riding with Joe Young on friday night. The bike I've been riding since I got here is Joe's old full-suspension Diamondback. Not the toughest thing out there (certainly not as tough as his current ride, which he put together specifically to go leaping off of anything leapable he might find in town or country), but enough for some simple bouncing around. Or, at least, enough for some simple bouncing around when the owner is around to say, "Yeah, go ahead and try to bunny hop up that curb and then go jump down those stairs." Which, yeah, I did. And I have to admit that there was a fair amount of flying-headfirst-over-the-handlebars-,-screaming going on, but, hey, chicks dig scars, right?
So, anyway, yeah, the upshot of that is that the Young has me half convinced to take that money I was going to put towards a commuter bike and spend it, instead, on kinda the scootiepuff Jr. version of a jumping-off-shit bike (around $450, SPT bike, good frame but a short-travel front fork, rim brakes & a wheelset that I'd probably turn from rounds into ovals in pretty short order) and working out a deal with him for the road bike that he's been putting together which has too large a frame for the Young, but would probably be just right for the Billyhank. And, shit, a road bike's better transport that a trail or mountain bike anyway (for those of you unaware of terminology, a road bike is a lightweight bike with no suspension and very thin tires [think old school ten-speed with about three times as many gears] and are really only suited for smooth, regular surfaces; trail/mountain bikes have at least a front suspension [and sometimes a rear as well], a heavy-duty frame built to take some abuse and knobbly tires that can get some traction on pretty much any kind of surface. The Diamondback I'm riding right now is a full-suspension job with tires like tank treads and a three-inch front fork. And it looks cool and all, but, shit, it's a lotta bike to haul from Sand Point to Downtown & back everyday.), and I'll finally be fast enough to beat all those jerkass spandex guys on their Dayglo Specializeds. Fuckers.
And then last night we (the Young, Psycho James & myself) went down to the Tractor to see Deadbolt, "The Scariest Band in the World". Great fun drunken times listening to great loud fun roackabilly hotrod surf rock until the last song of Deadbolt's set when James got jumped for no real good goddamned reason and I ended up peeling guys off the pile of bodies on the floor until I got down to the man and spent the next hour keeping one arm around his shoulders and trying to find the Young (who was feeling his drunkenness in a huge way and headed out early; understandable. We started the night at Azteca where we each had, shit, let's see, I had five margaritas [I know, I know. Sometimes I can drink any and everything, sometimes I can't..], I think James matched me, Joe was certainly in there, four or five, then some beers at James place, then many, many beers at Hattie's Hat & beer and shots @ the Tractor (James kept disappearing every ten mintes and coming back with a fresh round)....Good Lord, that was an awful lot of drinking, wasn't it? Suddenly, I don't feel so bad about feeling so shitty today.
Hmm.
Anyway, that's about it. Oh, also, the second band last night, The Octabites, kicked fucking ass. I only mention it 'cause they kicked fucking ass. And their CD is only $5. So, yeah.
All right, Harvey Birdman is on, so I'm out. Have some fun kids and I'll talk to you soon.
Comments