Category: Bike stuff

Six more weeks?

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments
The official NOAA jersey, guaranteed to take weather-forecasting rodents' eyes off their own shadows.
The official NOAA jersey, guaranteed to take weather-forecasting rodents' eyes off their own shadows.

That miserable rodent Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow again this morning, heralding six more weeks of winter. If it were up to me that furry forecaster would see the lands and grooves of a Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum, but not for long.

Now here’s some weather news you can use. Steve Anderson, a correspondent of mine at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), has teamed with a colleague to design some official NOAA cycling kit — jersey, shorts, gloves and cap. The club is an official USA Cycling outfit with some 40 members, from the current head of NOAA to the newest student intern.

I plan to order a jersey up because I’m certain that in addition to matching my eyes it will make me faster. Plus it will serve as camouflage should I decide to attack that Punxsutawney punk from the air.

20 and counting

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 6 Comments
It's not all strip malls, fast-food joints and Focus on the Family here in Bibleburg.
It's not all strip malls, fast-food joints and Focus on the Family here in Bibleburg.

It struck me today that most of my recent photos have been of cats, various foodstuffs and other items found ’round the house, and as a consequence you may think I never leave the place. Not true.

For example, instead of hewing strictly to my deadlines, today I broke out a mud-encrusted Steelman Eurocross and went for a short ride in the sunshine, up to around Mesa and 31st, where the bike path gives some spectacular views of the Garden of the Gods and Pikes Peak.

Then I rolled back to the ranch and whipped out the cartoon marking my 20th anniversary of drawing same for VeloNews. And no, you can’t see it. Not unless you’re a subscriber, a buyer of newsstand copies, or patient.

Back in 1989, I was running out of rope at The New Mexican in Santa Fe and less interested in cartooning than in the VeloNews managing editor’s job. I applied for it, got an interview, and was turned down for my lack of magazine experience (12 years of newspapering as a reporter and editor was worth exactly jack shit).

But the Trio — the troika of owners, which then included Felix Magowan, John Wilcockson and David Walls — said they would have no objection to my banging out some editorial cartoons for the mag. That worked out pretty well for all of us, “us” not counting the advertisers, various functionaries at cycling’s governing bodies and anyone else with an impacted sense of humor. The Trio hired Tim Johnson as ME, and a fine job he did, too, before they airbrushed him out of the company portrait. And I got to poke fun at people for 20 years.

I wouldn’t have lasted 20 months in that ME’s job. Too much like work, don’t you know. And I’ve always been much better than Tim at pissing people off.

Late update: Speaking of work, as I reached one milestone an old friend and colleague reached another — fellow writer and copy editor Hal Walter learned today that two weeks hence his services will no longer be required at The Pueblo Chieftain. The job was beneath him, true — The Chieftain should be printed on soft, perforated rolls of tissue and hung in toilet stalls so that it may be put to the use for which it is best suited — but nevertheless it paid in American money, so Hal will be examining his options, as he has a wife, son and several dogs, cats and burros to support. You can keep up with his doings via his blog, Hardscrabble Times. Indeed they are.

Things that suck: a continuing series

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments
Trainers are to cycling as wanking is to sex.
Trainers are to cycling as wanking is to sex.

The stationary trainer: Cycling without all that annoying fun stuff. I unfolded the Cateye and attached a bike this afternoon after catching a glimpse of tomorrow’s forecast, which calls for a chance of snow, wind and a high of 19 degrees. Not exactly a day at the beach.

But then I’m not exactly Old Whatsisface, either. Johan Bruyneel would not pronounce me to be in better shape than I was three years ago, not even for money. Herself would fall down in a giggling fit just trying to squeak the words out.

So sometime tomorrow, unless the weatherman is wildly off base, I will take another of those refreshing rides to nowhere, facing a fan, in the basement.

Mike Creed just tweaked me on Facebook, saying, “Get on down to Silver City. 50s and 60’s next week.” But there are mountains in them thar hills, if I recall correctly from my previous life as a New Mexican, and if there’s anything a 54-year-old fat bastard hates more than cold, it’s climbing. I’d look and sound like a Lycra-wrapped step van full of live pigs, and Christo would probably base his next daffy art project on me.

Two for two

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 4 Comments
Mia Sopaipilla has resolved to quit decking the holiday ornaments, in no small measure because we're putting them away.
Mia Sopaipilla has resolved to quit decking the holiday ornaments, in no small measure because we're putting them away.

It’s the first Friday of the New Year, and while I ordinarily loathe and despise resolutions (mostly because I can’t keep them), I’m going to try very, very hard in 2009 to (a) ride the bike more, and (2) write more online columns for VeloNews.com.

So far, so good. I rode yesterday and today, and banged out a New Year’s Dog Breath for the VeloSnoozers. You needn’t bother looking it up, unless you’re interested in seeing how a blog post (yesterday’s) metastasizes into a column. No, I take that back. We need the eyeballs. Click on over there straight away and then report back to me.

(Intermission)

Back so soon? Damn, that one must’ve really sucked. Of course, you’d already seen most of the good bits in the trailer, but still, damn. Whaddaya want for free? Next time you’re in the neighborhood, buy some Fat Guy jerseys, f’chrissakes. Scotch isn’t getting any cheaper, y’know.

Didja get any onya?

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 4 Comments

The Decider has finally turned the money hose on Detroit, and don’t I wish I were standing nearby with a bucket. One of my paychecks has mysteriously gone walkabout again and Visa would like nothing better than to get me by the plums with a downhill pull.

Meanwhile, in the spirit of the holiday season, there’s a fresh rant up at VeloNews.com. No charge. Think of it as my little gift to you this Zappadan.

Interesting concept, eh? I get paid (or don’t, as the case may be) to dash off my little online japes. The editors get paid to read and post it. And the publisher has to write the check (or not). But you, you lucky devils — you get off scot-free. Except for having to notice all those bloody ads for this and that in your peripheral vision, which does tax the eyeballs, does it not?

Not only is my stuff free to you, it’s easily accessible. Couple clicks of the mouse and there I am in all my pointless, content-free glory. It’s a pretty specialized delivery system, when you think about it. If all you care about is reading me, or Lennard Zinn, or Bob Mionske, you don’t have to thumb through a wad of other stuff to get to us. Click, click and off you go.

(More on this later. Herself is screeching that I look like a coconut and am in dire need of a haircut.)

OK, I’m freshly shaven and back to deep thought. I click the mouse for my national and international news, coverage of fringe sports like cycling, leftist political commentary and expert advice I can use to make my life richer (investment advice, recipes from elite chefs, and so on). I know where to go and how to get there.

I would like to read local news, too, and plenty of it, without having to wade through a wad of other stuff that is more easily available online: the aforementioned national and international news; pointless coverage of mainstream professional sports already covered to excess by TV; and the endless smelly pile of treacly features keyed to days of the week (Food, Life, Money, et al). But I can’t get local and regional news — not a lot of it, anyway, and certainly not reliably — with a click of the mouse.

If the Gazette were to do without all the trappings that defined the Newspaper v1.0 and become a strictly local news source, I might subscribe again. But if it keeps trying to be all things to all people, I’ll continue to withhold my pennies and watch it die a slow, lingering death.

Late update: Incidentally, if this post seems even more scatter-brained than usual, it may be because the cats were dancing on my head at 4 a.m. and set me to thinking creakily about some of the excellent comments in an earlier post.