Tune in, Turn On, Dropouts

Needs fenders, rack, bar tape and extras but it's coming along.

Dropouts. Yep. Speaking of bikes, I mostly finished my new Cross Check. In some fit of stupidity I overlooked an obvious incompatibility issue. The rear wheel that came off my old Malvern is a 120mm track spaced hub. That ain't fitting in my Surly Gnot-Right 132.5mm drops. Oops. For the time being I spaced out a cog on an old road wheel I had laying around. I'd rather it were fixed, but for now it is just a single speed.

Special thanks to Erik Noren, the Liberace of bikes, for facing and chasing the frame in his illustrious shop, the world headquarters of Peacock Groove. Order a frame from him. He builds STEEL -- no carbon; no Ti; no Scandium, Unbendium or Unobtainium crap. Steel is real. That is all. Thanks, Erik for letting my frame into your steely sanctuary, the "Church of CroMo" -- yeah, that's got a ring to it. One day I'll order a frame from you, my friend.

A miscellaneous box outside the PG headquarters. The blocky font and all caps juxtaposed with the imploring message of compassion somehow struck me. These are good words to live by.

More photos to follow after the bike is finished.

If You Can Read This, You're in Good Company

This just in -- Mpls is the most literate city in the US:

Overall, the top 10 most literate (and wired) cities included:
1—Minneapolis, Minn.
2—Seattle, Wash.
3—St. Paul, Minn.
4—Denver, Colo.
5—Washington, D.C.
6—St. Louis, Mo.
7—San Francisco, Calif.
8—Atlanta, Ga.
9—Pittsburgh, Pa.
10—Boston, Mass.

Minneapolis, Seattle, Pittsburgh, Denver and Washington, D.C., have made the top 10 every year since 2003, when the survey first launched.

St Paul coming in 3rd, not bad. BRose will be happy to see that Pittsburgh made the Top 10 list. Hey, Milwaukee may have us for the honor of most liquored-up, but at least we can read the Surgeon General's warning on our beer cans!

Goobye to another friend

It is a sad day when you have to say goodbye to a bike. It's one thing if you sell a trusty steed (see post below), quite another if you break it. It seems I broke my favorite snow bike -- my fixed gear Malvern Star. Sheer simplicity: cross tires, a flat bar, clip on fenders and no brakes. Nothing to jam up, foul up or freeze shut when you're riding through slop and slush. Last night while cleaning the bike I discovered a circumferential crack where the seat tube joins the bottom bracket shell. The lug is cracked all the way through. I guess I'd heard some creaking and noticed my crank was bending in on the down pedal stroke. I elected not to ride it although failure would most likely not be catastrophic since the seat tube is wedged against the BB shell. But it certainly does make for a sloppy ride. The worst part will be telling Timmy G from work. He fished the bike out of the trash many years ago. He sold it to one co-worker who gave it to another. Then I bought it for $25 with a seatpost and headset last fall. I think I got my money out of it, but I am always sad to see a good lugged frame bite the dust. And Tim was always excited to see that Malvern in the bike rack at work.


Here I am a year ago with the bike, Burley attached, on a ride to a New Year's party. The next day I started this blog.

Quite serendipitously I was in the bike shop not only to clean my winter ride but to also clear some space to begin prepping my new Surly Cross Check frame for building. It will be a fixed gear. Looks like it will be the bike that replaces this old departing ride. Now, of course I am excited to be building up a new bike, but still sad to see one go ...

A Whirlwind of Weather, Gifts and Screaming Toddlers

A Christmas tornado in a trailer park? No. It was simply the Fleck family foray to Iowa for the Holly Day. We departed somewhat reluctantly on Saturday as we all felt crabby and the weather (like our direction of travel) was only supposed to go further south as the day progressed. Like many spur of the moment family decisions, the matter was decided out of mutual desperation for the inability to decide the best course of action -- i.e. "To hell with it! I don't care if we get stuck in a blizzard -- we're leaving anyway!"

BTW What's playing now? (A la Johnny Kohtz) Pink Floyd, "Dark Side of the Moon" (And, yeah, I'm remembering watching The Wizard of Oz many years ago, stoned out of my gourd, while a friend played this album ...)

The drive began uneventfully enough. A stop at a rest area about one hour south of Mpls left us with some doubts as the attendant shared a rumor that I-35 had been closed at Faribault due to glare ice. We pushed on wondering whether our sluggish start would result in a turnaround. Long story short, the coot was lying and everything was fine ... until Iowa.

Iowa, oh Iowa. Iowa most frigid and wintry considering the heat of the Democratic candidates' endless shuffling and hot-forced-air rhetoric. Things quickly got interesting in Iowa. I slid (figuratively, luckily) into the pump at our usual gas stop in Waterloo.

The ground was rapidly collecting a blanket of snow atop a thin layer of ice. It was entertaining actually to watch the cars slipping and sliding while I fueled the Subaru. Further on we spotted so many cars in the ditch I lost count. Traffic was backed up for a bit due to a flipped truck and attending emergency vehicles. Blowing snow blocked vision for occasional stretches of 100m or so. Only an hour behind schedule, we arrived safely and were happy to be out of the car.

The worst was yet to come overnight as the high winds drove snow into beautiful, deep drifts. Temperatures in the low teens made certain the snow would stick around for the day. We took off for some visiting and shopping. It was obvious that downtown Iowa City doesn't often have to deal with such weather carnage. Thankfully, the front wheel drive Subaru plows right through surprisingly deep banks of slush puppy mix. While downtown April and I even helped push one car out of the snow. A good samaritan with nothing better to do could have spent all day doing that.

Graffiti in downtown Iowa City reminding me that I am not far from home.

I had a fun time driving (gasp) since I'm not too afraid of the white stuff and I am well aware of what our car can and cannot do. I also believe in slowing down appropriately when bad weather hits and doing my best to think while I'm driving. I find that lack of knowledge (i.e. ignorance) and its attending deficit of mental awareness are problems of drivers at both ends of the spectrum: snow causes some people to crawl along at 20mph when they could safely be driving the speed limit because they are scared and fear is fed by ignorance; conversely, some drivers pass a line of cars on a snow-clogged road or continue to drive 75mph after the road is coated with ice because they are stupid (ignorant) and/or just aren't paying attention. I relish in the rare occasion when I see them in the ditch up ahead.

Anyhow, this is a merry post, not a rant, right? We'll just get into some snappy photos:

Grandma Alice is a marvel. Because we didn't make it the day before for the scheduled brunch she fed us leftover casseroles. They were amazing and wonderful (and probably not good for my recently discovered high cholesterol, but it's the holidays!) Grandma Alice made a trip to Italy last year and isn't showing any signs of slowing down. Here Sylvia endures a forced pose with her great-grandmother.

Coralville Mall -- Dad is dressed in dark colors carrying a bag (both of which seemed to be out of vogue. Oh, will I ever be "in"?) while Sylvia is in a seventh heaven driving her faux car. Why don't they make kids' toys in the shapes of bikes?! (I think I've pondered this rhetorical question before.)

April with her dear friend, Marcus. He lives in Ireland these days and will soon hold a PhD in math. I wish Marcus lived closer. I also wish I had a scanned copy of their senior homecoming portrait together as Merlin and Mordred.

The best (healthiest) meal we ate all weekend was Xmas eve dinner. We prepared side dishes like spaghetti squash salad and sauteed kale to match Brian's grilling of two pork loins.

Brian (aka Dad) in his element -- t-shirt, beer in hand and ready to go. The smoked pork was excellent, in case you were wondering.

Erin is pondering something but it doesn't appear to be the rather curious presence of her buttered bread atop her beer.

This was Sylvia's most gendered Xmas yet. Here she models her new princess outfit. I hope we have a son next so we can pass it down to him. ("Now, son, your sister worked hard for this princess outfit and you're going to wear it with pride.")

Hannah tries to snatch a private moment to read following the gifting festivities.


Chef Sylvia shows off her latest creations. She didn't put down that basting brush the whole way home. She even calls it a basting brush. How many 2 yr olds know what the hell a basting brush is? The mini wooden kitchen she received from her grandparents has seen non-stop use since we go home Tuesday evening.

And that's a wrap! Merry Christmas and all that jazz from Clan Fleck! We still haven't completed our family holiday newsletter ... maybe by Valentine's Day?

Iowa Xmas Bound -- 58 hours and counting ...

I can't take credit for this bicycle brilliance. It's an image of a friend of my father-in-law's bike. His name is Curt. He gets definite points for style and initiative. You just don't see things quite so elaboratedly done when it comes to bike decoration in the Twin Cities.

I'm rambling and backtracking again. I never posted photos from Thanksgiving weekend in Iowa City. End of semester got the better of me. I love Iowa. I could see moving to Iowa City someday soon. The pace of life is just a little slower. Geographically it's not so stretched out. There aren't fixed gear cranking hipsters with bulging U-locks on every block. Of course, there's also not the bicycle-friendly infrastructure to the degree of Mpls. And I'd have to guess the "scene" is a little more cozy, too. But the place has a lot of great things going for it -- cool, artsy folks; history and natural beauty; and a friendly co-op that's not chock full o' Wedge fascist types.

We're headed back to IC this Saturday for a fun-filled Fleck family Christmas. It's never a dull time when we get together for family holidays.

Here I am showing my approval of the Thanksgiving feast along with Hannah, Julian and Sylvia.

An angelic (and cherubic) Sylvia surveys her domain.

An attempt at a family potrait for Dad and Sabra.

Sabra and Dad prep the feast. I can't wait to see what surprises await us on our next adventure to Iowa ... just two short days away. Iowa -- the focus of the Democratic candidates' efforts; Iowa -- the land of raptors and endless cornfields (sheltering food for those majestic birds); Iowa -- the mythical "middle" of America.

A Well Rounded Weekend

My semester ended last week and it feels good to be done. I am one class, 4 credits, away from graduation. That final class will be completed via internet study. I've actually attempted this class twice before but dropped it because I was taking too many hours. I also have to admit that I'm not such a big fan of internet courses. I like the ritual of attending class. I like taking notes. I enjoy real-time discussions. But this time it is my only class, my last class. And, besides, I have no choice!

Where the magic happens ...

Thursday night was my last big push. I got home at about 4. I wrote until 2am with an hour break for dinner. Geez, though, I was on fire. I have not had such a productive (academic) writing session in about 6 weeks. I wish sometimes I could just crank out good writing whenever I needed to, but I do best when the muse visits and smiles favorably upon the keyboard as I compose. I've been lucky to have several professors who've been flexible in their deadlines!

Friday at work I was tired but I felt like the gravitational pull of the earth had magically weakened without the burden of coursework weighing upon me. It was a fun day. I snapped a photo of my next door cube mate's (that would be Alix K) cool poster with Skiles showing a little love in the background.

Tanner gave me a Xmas cupcake. It made me think of the donut-crazed Surly guys lying in their own private corners twitching from hyperglycemia.

After work we went to Joel and Faith's Xmas fondue party. It is always nice to see old friends (even if it meant I had to eat fondue). Fact of the matter is we just don't get to spend as much time with a lot of them as we'd like to. Sylvia especially enjoyed the mystery gift game and she volunteered to open packages for most everyone!

April models her new "I'm a Bad Girl with Good Intentions" t-shirt. That's gonna look dead sexy stretched over her pregnant belly.

Adrian was there and we share a mutual fondness for good whisky. I broke out the flask and even managed to get a shot of Joel trying a little sip of Ardbeg islay malt.

Just a brief FYI -- if you like good scotch (and who doesn't? Freaks) then you need to try Ardbeg.

Saturday night was Tanner's surprise birthday party at the Triple Rock, organized by his awesome better half, Amber. It also turned out that The Sword was playing. Because of that my classmate, Skip, was there as well. And so were a number of the usual suspects.

Hurl, Zito and Rollin taking a turn before the lens.

I ended up paying the $12 to see the show which was awesome, gruesome live metal. I'm not a huge metal fan but I can dig it. I haven't seen a live show in a while. It rapidly degenerated into a chaotic evening splitting time between friends on the non-music side of the club with my mates who were at the show appreciating the face-melting doom rock action.

The Sword shaking the foundations of the Triple Rock.

Amber's sexy fishnet stockings. I'm thinking these could be team kit for 'cross season 2008.

Becky and Marian smile for the camera.

Emily picks her nose while her friend Chris shows his obvious disgust.

Obaid bought several shots for the birthday boy. I just happened to be caught in the crossfire. Here he is paying one of the many tabs he generated on behalf of his inebriated friends. I was treated to a number of free drinks thanks to my friends. THANKS!

Skip and a friend after the show. Skip was kind enough to pile me and my bike into his Toyota van and give me a ride home. It was better than riding, all things considered.

The next day I was shocked how much money I actually came home with because people bought me drinks. I was not shocked how slow and retarded I felt. April went out with a friend to wrap up some Xmas shopping. Daddy and Sylvia got to do a little shopping for Mommy. It's always a treat to have the day with Sylvia.

Fake eyes never look red in photos. Therein lies the problem.

Sunday night was our designated decorating time. We got out the tree, the lights, the stockings and all of our ornaments. We also took a couple of Xmas photos for a card we will probably not succeed in sending out prior to the arbitrarily labeled date of Jesus' birth. Oh well ... that's why we call it the "Holiday Season"! The fun event is this Saturday -- Solstice. After all, that's when the real magic happens.

ONE of the Top Ten Worst Things I've Ever Done

Dear Sexy Yellow Casati,

I miss you. It seemed so easy to let you go. It's been about 10 months since your tastefully bold Italian paint job and full Superbe Pro track gruppo graced my bike shop. There was another bike in the works, of course. And you knew it. That other bike has yet to materialize, meaning it's actually still in pieces. Sadly, you probably are too.

I should have known better than to do it, if for no other reason than the fact that I have regretted selling every bike I've ever parted with at one time or another (well, except for the Treks). You were one of a kind. The California sun you basked in before I bought and had you shipped to Minnesota treated you well. Not one spot of rust. A nice ride and one truly classy machine.

My biggest regret is not necesarily that I justified selling you. I wanted to build a pretty celeste Bianchi Pista Concept. And if I ever finish it, it's gonna be a nice bike, too. The source of my real remorse is that I sold you to a track bike pimp named Gina in NYC. Her schtick was good. I really thought I was sending you to a good home. She played like the bike was for her and that you'd be ridden at the local velo. I realized what was up after I subsidized the shipping and that ho-bag wouldn't even return my emails to offer to pay the difference. She is the lowest of the low in the bike industry -- surfing Craigslist postings of other cities in search of good deals to turn in her trendy little boutique serving the inflated, track-crazed market of NYC.

By now I wouldn't even recognize you I'm sure. Like meth sweeping through a rural Midwestern town, the damage that can be done with electrical tape, top tube protectors, spoke cards, a sloped seat and a set of chop-n-flops is irreversible. I've learned my lesson, that's all I can say.

I miss you ... and I'm sorry.

Love,

Patch