“Now it’s the same old song / but with a different meaning since you’ve been gone. …”
From our You Have Got to be Fucking Shitting Me Department:
The Colorado Bureau of Investigation is conducting a case review into Hunter S. Thompson’s death, more than 20 years after the fabled Gonzo journalist died in 2005 in his Woody Creek home.
The review was launched following a request from Thompson’s widow, Anita, and is being conducted to “provide an independent perspective” on the 2005 investigation, a CBI spokesperson said Tuesday.
An “independent perspective,” hey? The Good Doktor had that and then some, for sure. Maybe some other poor fool in Pitkin County finally saw those goddamn bats.
Scanning The New York Times today I recalled the words of the late, great George Carlin of Manhattan: “Here’s another pack of jagoffs who ought to be strangled in front of their children.”
First up for a vigorous and final throttling: Whoever coined the abominable “polyworking,” which sounds vaguely sexy, like “polyamory,” but actually describes the need for more than one job to cover the payments on the used Ford Focus in which one sleeps between shifts in the barrel(s).
Erin Hatton, a sociology prof at the State University of New York at Buffalo who studies the labor market, told the NYT that the practice can be “a way to take back ownership of work and one’s career in a meaningful way, pushing back against the sense that you are identified by one job, one employer.”
But Hatton conceded that not being identified “by one job, one employer,” is … not always optional.
“There is an element of gloss to it that minimizes the hardship and economic need that forces them to cobble together a variety of subpar jobs,” she said.
Will this be on the final exam? Doesn’t matter, I’ll be working that day, and all of the others, too.
Next: Come on down, Matt Schulz, chief consumer finance analyst at LendingTree!
Matt told the NYT — in a story about people who have to finance their groceries — ““If you’re living paycheck to paycheck and you’re on a tight budget and you have several of these loans out at one time, it can be very easy to get over your skis here.”
“Over your skis?” You need a short-term loan to buy your Hot Pockets and you’re over the skis you don’t have? I mean, shit, dude, read the room. The room that looks a lot like a Ford Focus without a (duh) rooftop ski rack.
And as George reminds us: “Try to pay attention to the language we’ve all agreed on.” It probably won’t help you understand the kids on TikTok, but at least you’ll be able to read your job(s) application(s) and the fine print on that buy-now-pay-later deal.
The Soma Pescadero takes five in the kitchen while the engine room refuels.
It’s probably a good thing that I couldn’t lay my hands on a Soma Pescadero back in 2020.
It was the beginning of the Plague Years, and bits of this, that, and the other — toilet paper, peace of mind, bicycle bits — were scarce as common sense.
Nevertheless, Adventure Cyclist had been in touch, wondering if I had any review possibilities in the pipeline, and the Pescadero leapt instantly to mind.
The Soma Fabrications website was pitching this old-school steel scoot as an alternative for “all-road” cyclists who wanted a classic looker suited to large rubber and long rides, but without the subtle insults to form and function posed by disc brakes. This put the Pescadero smack dab in the middle of my antiquated wheelhouse.
I was already a happy Soma customer, with two Saga touring bikes and one Double Cross cyclocross-slash-light tourer in the garage. And it seemed significant that Soma’s parent organization, the Merry Sales Co. of San Francisco, was born shortly after a previous calamity, the Great Earthquake of 1906.
In previous negotiations over review framesets, honcho Jim Porter and marketeer Stan Pun had always proved themselves reasonable, resourceful, and flexible — admirable qualities, suited to all situations, and never more so than when dealing with a small-batch, rim-braking, friction-shifting Luddite in search of the fixins for a bespoke bike in the middle of a pandemic.
So I fired off an email.
• • •
Longtime readers already know the background, so I’ll cut to the chase. There were no Pescaderos to be had, in any size. There was this plague going on, you see.
The New Albion Privateer, in matte black.
So Pun pitched me on another house-brand frameset, a New Albion Privateer, saying it resembled the Double Cross I already knew and loved, but with “a lower bottom-bracket height, longer chainstays, and heavier tubes.”
Steel? Check. Tange Infinity double-butted main triangle and other chromoly elsewhere. Rim brakes? Roger that. Your choice of cantilevers or V-brakes. Fat tires? Claro que si. Up to 700c x 41mm.
Say no more. I ordered one, reviewed it, and eventually bought it.
Had a Pescadero been available, I might not ever have become acquainted with the Privateer. Which would have been sad, because five years later it’s one of my favorite bikes, the one I tend to reach for first when it’s time to ride.
It was well suited to the Adventure Cyclist audience, too. Three sets of bottle bosses and a pump peg. Eyelets for racks and fenders front and rear. Versatile as a product manager in a pandemic. Ride it to work or the next town down the line.
And the Pescadero? Turns out it’s less about hauling a load, and more about hauling ass.
• • •
Last year I’d begun thinking about a new bike aimed at my friendly local group ride, something sporty for our senior-citizen shootouts. My old road-racing bike, a 20-pound titanium DBR Prevail TT from 1994, is fun but twitchy, with a really short wheelbase, really tall gearing, and a 25mm cap on tire size. A beautiful custom Nobilette from 2008 has a more geezer-friendly drivetrain and a less racy geometry, but can accommodate only a slightly fatter tire.
Thus I revisited the Pescadero, with its road-sport geometry — “between road-race and cyclocross bikes in handling responsiveness,” according to Soma — and its capacity for 38mm rubber, my favorite size. (My Steelman cyclocross bikes max out at 35mm.)
Lo and behold, this time it was in stock. The Soma people proposed a deal — some no-strings slack on the price for some straight-up thoughts on the frameset — and so here we are.
Now, I didn’t strive for the lightest possible build on either the Pescadero or the Privateer because I’m not a gram-counter. So my Pescadero weighs in at 24 pounds, 8 ounces, just 11 oh-zees lighter than the Privateer.
This is in part because the two share a number of component choices: 46/30T IRD Defiant cranks, IRD QB55 bottom bracket, and Shimano PD-A520 pedals; Shimano Deore rear derailleurs, S-Ride cassettes, and KMC chains; Selle Italia Flite saddles and Thomson Elite seat posts; Soma’s Hwy One handlebars and Crane stems; and 38mm Soma-label tires.
The biggest differences between the two are … not all that big. But noticeable.
On the climb to La Cueva.
The Pescadero ups the Privateer’s metallurgical ante with a lighter steel — heat-treated, double-butted Tange Prestige for the main triangle and Tange Infinity for the fork, as on my Double Cross. Its head tube is 15mm shorter than the Privateer’s, but the Crane stem/Hwy One cockpit still gives me a nice upright position and easy access to the drops without proclaiming me the King of Spacer Mountain.
The Privateer sets sail with a seven-speed cassette (11-34T) and Rivendell Silver friction bar-end shifters, while the Pescadero rolls with nine (11-32T) and Dia-Compe bar-cons, also friction.
Those two additional cogs (plus an Ultegra triple front derailleur, the only one I had on hand) add a small degree of difficulty to speedy shifting. But I’m rarely in a rush. That said, I may eventually give the Pescadero seven cogs (the biggest with two extra teefers) and a proper front derailleur, too.
Come stopping time, the Privateer uses Paul Components’ excellent MiniMoto V-brakes and Gran Compe levers, while the Pescadero sports the elegant and grippy Paul Comp’ Racer centerpulls and Shimano Tiagra levers that remind me favorably of the old Shimano 600s on my Double Cross.
The Paul Components Racer centerpull brake.
I waffled, briefly, while deciding on the brakes. The Pescadero can use centerpulls like Paul’s or long-reach sidepulls, such as the considerably cheaper Tektro R559. But I already had a set of those on a Rivendell Sam Hillborne and wanted to see how the Paul’s centerpulls checked out. Duh. They’re awesome.
Full disclosure: I’m a big fan of Paul’s brakes. Five of my bikes are so equipped and I have a set of MiniMotos in a box awaiting their callup.
Both bikes are handsome, but the Pescadero definitely has the edge in the looks department. The Privateer is matte black with white panels, stylish yet understated. The Pescadero is officially a glossy “slate gray” with pistachio-green panels. But once I saw it in real life I heard Mickey O’Neill saying, “An’ she’s terrible partial to the periwinkle blue, boys.” It was the color he wanted for his ma’s caravan in the Guy Ritchie flick “Snatch.”
So if this bicycle ever gets a first name, it will be Mickey, and you’ll know it has nothing to do with that mouse.
But your ma’s caravan — trailer, in British lingo — it is not.
• • •
Oh, sure, the Pescadero can accept a rear rack and front mini-rack, or frame bags, seat bags, and handlebar packs. But its wheelbase and chainstays are shorter than those on a purpose-built touring bike — even shorter than the Privateer’s. So, while light rack and/or bikepacking loads are possible, a serious tourist would probably be advised to check out some other model.
Ditto a gravel rider. The Pescadero is a roadie, its tighter geometry intended to provide a snappy ride on the mean streets while fitting a tire plump enough to blunt the bumps.
And it delivers.
When I rise from the saddle on the steeps the Pescadero leaps forward like a salmon heading upstream to spawn. Diving at speed into corners that have the Privateer murmuring, “We can do this,” the Pescadero shouts, “Let’s do this!” Its trimmer figure — less fork rake, shorter chainstays, and lower weight — sure get the party started. I actually found myself getting a little aggro’ in sharp turns, which is not at all like me.
The compact Pescadero is sprightly on the flats and rollers, too, and probably would be even more so had I not gone slightly overboard on its wheels. Two Wheel Drive here in Albuquerque built them up with Alex Adventurer 2 rims, Shimano RS-400 hubs, Soma Shikoro tires, and Specialized AirLock inner tubes. With cassette and quick-release skewers we’re talking a total of 8 pounds, 12 ounces.
The Privateer’s wheels, an ancient set from Excel Sports in Boulder — Mavic Open Pro rims, Shimano 600 hubs, and Soma’s The Everwear tires with AirLock tubes — are 11 ounces lighter, which is not insignificant when we’re talking rotating weight.
I’ve thought idly about stealing those wheels for the Pescadero. After all, that’s how the Privateer got ’em; I robbed them from a Voodoo Wazoo.
Alex Adventurer 2 rim with Soma Shikoro tire.
Plus, if I liberated those wheels I could shave off a few more ounces by going with 33mm tires. The 38mm Soma Shikoros on the Pescadero run 430 grams; the 33mms on the Nobilette, 350g. So, by downsizing the rubber I’d save an additional 160g, or 5.6 oz. Call it a third of a pound. Frost that cake by going to sealant-free tubes, 213g vs. 128g. Another one-third el-bee. Hell, if I keep this up I can make the whole damn’ bike disappear! Sail along “by sheer force of personality,” like Oscar and his comrades in Robert A. Heinlein’s “Glory Road.”
Or not. As I noted earlier, I don’t really care about weight. Albuquerque’s roads are a seamed and scarred Frankenstein’s monstrosity, and I want a stout wheelset and plump, low-pressure tires with puncture-plugging inner tubes saving my booty from the beast. I run those 38s at no more than 50 psi rear and 45 front, which helps.
Anyway, I like those Excel Sports wheels right where they are. The New Albion Privateer is spot on as is. I may try a lighter wheelset on the Pescadero further on up the road, for the sake of velo-science. But right here, right now, I’m perfectly happy with my new favorite bike.
And that’s probably a good thing. The Plague of 2025 — which is most definitely manmade — is sickening the global supply chain with insane tariffs, shipping hassles, and a general skittishness throughout, from suppliers to wholesalers to retailers to “end users,” who are certainly getting used in their ends.
If I were in the market for a new bike and had a garage full of parts, plus $799.95 that wasn’t committed elsewhere, I’d buy me a Soma Pescadero, like, yesterday. If I didn’t already have one.
You should have one too.
• P.S.: Soma has launched its Memorial Day sale a week early — as in this weekend through Monday — and is offering to slash 20 percent off all regularly priced items. You’ll need the Secret Code: memorialday25. Merry Sales will be serving up the bargains, too, with 15 percent off. Git ’em while they’re hot!
Headlined “The Church of the Open Road” — perhaps a riff on “The Church of the Rotating Mass,” which may be a Maurice “Dirt Rag” Tierney creation — it’s McCann’s recollection of a bike tour some four decades ago. On the road to nowhere, or so he thought when he set out.
A Catholic when he began, he encountered tiny Louisiana chapels and Texas megachurches, Southern Baptists and holy rollers (no pun intended). Slept in a pew, worked in a church camp. Inclined to listening, open to revelation, he collected stories as he went.
I won’t spoil this story by summarizing it. Give it a read.
Also, cast not your eyes upon the illustration. There may be some hidden meaning in there, but if so, it is obscured by a lack of historical verisimilitude. Forty years ago bicycles had neither integrated brake/shift levers nor disc brakes (especially not on the drive side). They did, however, have chainrings (and chains), freewheels, pedals, and external cables.
A journey of a thousand miles may begin with a single pedal stroke. But for Christ’s’ sake, you gotta have the pedals.
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