Spring essentials; tunes

Hey, it's like, really nice outside. 



  Sometimes I feel left out when I hear "thank God it's friday". For most folks out there friday is the start of a weekend, a time of rest. For those like me, friday marks the start of the busy time of week. Friday, saturday, sunday. To me these are not the three days of rest and cutting loose but my days of work, I've worked almost every weekend since age twelve, when I got my first job. That's not to say I don't enjoy enjoy the same the things the non-weekend-working class enjoy. 

  Monday, let's talk about that sweet glorious monday. My typical weekend is monday-tuesday, that or some random weekdays. In many ways it's nice, while everyone is grumbling over they're monday paper pile and spambox full of emails, I get to relax. Ride my bike, drink coffee, do whatever I want. 

  I'm not missing out per se, I actually get the best of both worlds. I get to do all the weekend stuff, then I get my own weekend, the city to myself. Ever been to a grocery store on a monday afternoon? Dead. Sure, all the drivers are just a little crankier and most of the good booze has been drunk already, but I'll take my weekend on the weekstart. 

I stopped in at Thom Bargen for a cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun. Check these guys out, they're great. 

Smiles for miles, Its the weekend!


Fast Friday [funday]

Friday night, ride bikes. Everyone's doing it.

Bring a bike. Meet at 9:30~pm in the 143 Pinedale garage.


Self preservation.

I always tell people, if you don't feel you need helmet, you're not trying hard enough. Strap on a brain bucket and try not to fill it. 


Hey, have you heard of punk rock?

Brew yourself a nice pot of strong coffee, throw some fireball in that shit,  and listen to the soundtrack to my life.

Now go freeze your ass off


Go exploring

Finding myself turned around on the river banks I grew up terrorizing I realized that you never really know where you are. Especially in the winter, on foot. Put your head down and just keep gong till you're too cold and have to turn around. Go faster to warm up. Bring duct tape. 


It's in my blood

My Mom sent me a bunch of neat old pictures of pictures today, the first thing I noticed is that my grandfather had great hair.  Then I saw these two pictures;

This is my Grandfather Marcel, from whom I received my middle name, with his sweet hair and his bike. 

This one is my great grandfather Prospere involved in some kind of bicycle race, and it would seem trickery as well. My kind of man. 
So now when people ask me "why do you like bikes so much?" I'll be able to tell them, it's not a choice it's a family trait.