Some days, the smashing of the State will just have to wait.
… very, very slowly.
Yesterday was one of them.
The high temp was 83°, which can be something of a shock to the system in April. But we’ve eased into it, starting with 50-something on Monday and jumping up 10 degrees each day.
Shoot, I’ve managed nearly 100 miles so far this week and it ain’t over yet.
Oh, yeah: And in case you think I’ve gone soft on fascism, I’ll have you know that I struck a blow for The People on yesterday’s ride. The gate to La Cueva Picnic Site was closed and locked, but I snuck around it and rode to the top anyway.
It’s a helluva note when you can’t hear the rumbling furnace over the thundering wind.
The sleeping last night was not spectacular, but a quick glance around the yard indicates most of the property remains in place, and we even got a soupçon of rain, so, yay, etc.
Still, as Mr. Waits has taught us:
The hawk had his whole family out there in the wind And he got a message for you to beware Kicking your ass in, in a cold-blooded fashion And dishing out more than a good man can bear
A man needs his shuteye in these dark, blustery days. You never know when the ICEholes are gonna kick down your door, demand proof that Great-Great-Grampa Conán was in this country legally, air-freight your ass off to a Salvadoran lockup, and lie to a federal judge about it.
Waking involved extra grumpitude because for some reason yesterday I thought it would be smart to ride the 32-pound Co-Motion Divide Rohloff on some narrow, mildly technical, occasionally steep singletrack, and in the opposite direction from the one I normally choose, too.
So there were missed turns and dabs and bad language and this morning I had a minor hitch in my never-too-suave gitalong as I crabwalked to the coffee.
But we’re not hiding in closets from tornadoes like the sis-in-law in Tennessee, or dodging fireballs in the Carolinas like my man Big Nurse, so it’s all good, yeah?
My 1994 DBR Prevail TT with its Neuvation wheelset.
John Neugent has gone west, according to Bicycle Retailer. He was 76.
Like many of us in the bike biz John wore a series of hats. His résumé includes stints at (or with) Sunshine Cycle, Service Cycle, Sachs USA, EV Global, Trico and Schwinn.
Eventually he went consumer direct under his own shingle — Neugent Cycling — and kept in touch with his customers via e-mail newsletter and a YouTube channel that he used as a showcase for his banjo chops and wheelbuilding skills.
John was an affable gent, occasionally mildly retrogrouchy, but without the grouchy bits, and he maintained a certain flexibility as regards the catechism. Here’s an example from a March 2019 edition of his newsletter:
It recently occurred to me that there is a generation, maybe two, who never used friction shifting. The type I grew up with that preceded index shifting, hyperglide, and electric shifting. Any real rider would also have downtube shifting where you needed to take one hand off the bars and bend over enough to reach the downtube. There are no studies done on this, because, in all likelihood, a bike like that made with modern technology would result in a much less expensive, lighter, and, one could argue, better bike. The real problem: They would be less expensive.
Imagine if you might how light a real 10-speed (five in the back and two up front) with downtube shifters and pedals using toe clips would be. Add tubular tires and carbon frames and rims and you are probably well under 10 pounds. Probably even more when you consider how much weight they could save in brakes, derailleurs, chain, sprockets, and anything else. I know there are grand fondos that require the use of bikes like that but they don’t use today’s technology.
At some point they are going to have bikes that pedal themselves. Oh wait, they’ve already done that. They’re called electric bikes and they are the new rage. How come I feel that many steps forward are really steps backward?
If someone presented a post-modern bike like the one I imagine I bet people would look at it with awe in the same way they recently did with single-speed bikes (known as track bikes 50 years ago). True spoke-sniffers like myself are not only dreaming of the possibilities, but are thinking about how to put one together with parts lying around.
John and I emailed back and forth now and then, and I always enjoyed his laid-back perspective on La Velo Nostra. I never got my DBR Prevail TT down to 10 pounds, but it wasn’t the fault of his Neuvation wheelset — I hung on to my heavy STI shifters, nine-speed cassette, clipless pedals, and ti’/chromoly frameset.
Peace to John, his family, friends, and customers. He will be missed.
And here’s your podium in the 2025 Dust Bowl Derby: Paul Atreides, T.E. Lawrence, and Tom Joad.
The “good” news is, beginning July 1 cyclists in New Mexico can enjoy the infamous “Idaho Stop,” which means they can treat red lights as stop signs and stop signs as yields.
The bad news is, they may not be able to see oncoming motor vehicles through the dust storms.
Just another way to get “dusted” in The Duck! City.
And I was glad I did. I’ve been caught in a loop of Groundhog Rides — basically the same 20-milers over and over and over again — and this was a refreshing change of pace.
There was a slight headwind as I rolled south on the lightly greened Paseo del Bosque trail to I-40, where I hung a right to snap a shot of the Rio Grande from the Gail Ryba bike bridge. More like the Rio Not-So-Grande. Too thick to drink, too thin for swimming.
Pic in hand, I pulled a U and enjoyed a tailwind to the Paseo del Norte trail, then took the usual route back to the rancho, along Bear Canyon-Osuna, up and over I-25, past the golf course and thence to Tramway via Manitoba, and home again home again, jiggity-jig.
Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I had to head south on Tramway to Rover and pull another U to collect enough mileage (kilometerage?) to make the nut.
And then I ate everything in the house and took a shower because hey: It was my birthday. I could do whatever I wanted.
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