Ok, so for those who follow the online fixed community, you’ll no-doubt know that when it comes to Australian sites, Andy’s fyxomatosis.com and Dan’s shifterbikes.com are the two leaders of the pack (bad pun). There’s recently been a little bit of controversy over a new website (fixxxation.org, currently offline) that’s sprung up, and its similarity to Andy’s site. Understandable, because the likeness is a little strong. We’re a bit low on content here at the moment, so I thought I’d post up my 2c, as cross-posted from the fixed.org.au forums.
Author: Mischa
Down but not out
It’ never good to hear about someone going down hard when they’re riding. Andy White had a heavy stack last week and is currently in hospital recovering after breaking his back. All’s in working order apparently, but word is he’s very lucky to be moving. Send out some good vibes for a quick recovery. Hope you’re back at it soon Andy!
Sometimes it all ends well
It’s nice to know that sometimes strangers have your back.
Never forget…
How could you?
Scream it until you’re coughing up blood
Against Me! are one of a few bands that really make me hurt. I mean a good hurt, deep down. Songs that hit me in a way I can’t explain. That make my chest feel like it can’t contain my heart. Their early stuff seems to make horizons open up and scream with potential. There’s an emotion locked inside those songs that wants to smash its way out every time I play them. I don’t know how many other people feel that, but I’d like to think a few others do. Maybe it’s the place I was at when I first heard them, maybe it’s the impact that band has had on where I am in my life right now, maybe it’s just that searing honesty that seems to tear its way through each lungful of air. Either way, it still hurts.
…and i cannot help but hold on to a handful of times when what was spoken was a revolution in itself, and what we were doing was the only thing that mattered.
Rites of spring
The weather’s toying with us lately. Warm days with the mercury pushing 20 degrees. Right now it’s 8 in the evening and it’s still sitting at 18 degrees. Shorts and t-shirts are once again suitable riding gear. We know it’s not going to last though, it’s just the seasons giving us a taste of what’s still a few months away; summer. Right now I’m thinking it may even be worth the wait. It’s been a dismal winter and I think we’re all feeling it. There’s definitely a desperate need for some hot days to burn away the cobwebs and bad moods. Bring it on I say.
I want hot mornings at the beach, afternoons drinking coffee, evenings sitting in a park downing cold beers, and riding in between it all. Sweaty punk rock shows and BBQs with mates. Sweat streaming down faces, the sun beating down on backs. Wading pools filled with cool water and summer days in the shade. Reggae days and thrash punk nights.
I want a revolution summer.
Back in full effect
Apparently web hosting expires, and so do credit cards. All’s well and we’re back in action. Content will be a little thin for the next 2.5 days, as the internet at BnC HQ has been shaped after downloading too many cycling DVDs. Whoops!
Keep it real.
Elemental
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of death,
Into the mouth of hell…– Tennyson
The hills can daunt you, the heat can roast you, the rain can drown you. However, when you break it down, the most challenging element to pit itself against a cyclist is the wind. It’s the unseen enemy that can destroy all your good intentions and hard work. The wind can fool you, cradling you gently as it pushes you onward toward your destination. It can lull you into a false sense of bliss, where each pedal stroke takes no great effort and you feel as if you could glide for miles. You thank it, bless it and sings its praises. Then you have to get home. Gone is the soft hands at your back, instead you’ve got a thick syrup dragging at your legs, invisible mud sucks at your wheels, and freshly pumped slicks begin to feel like downhill rock-grabbers running at 30psi. Hell hath no fury like the wind.
A headwind can sap every ounce of energy you have, and there’s nothing so solid as a hill to blame. You don’t arrive home drenched in sweat or storm. You’re left heaving into it, gaining little and losing everything. Observers sit oblivious in their cars and cafes, wondering why you strain so hard to tackle a flat road, wondering why your eyes are watering and each revolution is the labour of a thousand years. They couldn’t understand unless they were right there alongside you.
But it’s not the predictable headwind that is the dangerous one. It’s the fiendish wind that really tests everything you’ve got. The wind that will not let you anticipate its movements, nor guess its intentions. The ever-changing blow that pits you against nature at its most tempestuous. It leads a charge against your front, stopping you in your tracks and barring your way. You strain forward to push beyond it, only to find yourself thrown sideways as the blast turns against your flank. Suddenly every inch of handling skill you have is put to the test as your thrown sideways into whatever steel-driven death or bottomless grate awaits you. Any compensation you make is quickly counteracted as the gust once again changes. A momentary pause fools you into serenity, only to tear you violently awake again as you’re thrown in two directions at once. The intersection that normally sends only cars against you now become a raging cross-blast, throwing you into oncoming traffic with no warning and less care. Wave after wave of dust and debris batter your face and fill your eyes, grit and grime working its way into your mouth with every ragged breath.
Finally you make it to the front door. The letterbox lies tumbled across the front yard, torn from the fence by an unseen hand. The door slams shut and abandons you, stumbling amongst the blown leaves and street litter in the hallway. All that’s left to show for the battle are reddened eyes, a burning throat and the battered breath that gasps from it.
Books!
There’s nothing quite like a good book. Dive under the cover and lose yourself for a few hours or a few days. The ideal place to pick them up is a quality second hand dealer. They’re cheap, there’s always a heap of the classics, and you can tell that someone else has read and loved them before you.
By far my favourite thing is discovering an amazing new author, maybe fresh faced or maybe long dead. When a book’s only costing you $4, you can afford to take the risk and try something new. Or pick up an old childhood favourite.
Yesterday’s spur of the moment foray into Rapid Eye Books ended with the credit card out and me forcibly dragging myself away from the pile of ‘maybe I should get this one as well’ titles. It’s ok though, there’s something about books that makes it easy to justify spending the last of your food budget on a few good paperbacks.
August!
Damn, time flies when you’re riding bikes. Well over half way through the year, it’s a bit of a worry. Although it does mean summer’s getting closer. Bikes, BBQs, beer…let the good times roll I say.
Bottles and Chains put in some miles over the weekend, but unfortunately the age old flat battery curse hit my camera and there are no visual memories of the ride. Good times were had though, and those of us on track bikes managed to keep up with the roadies easily enough. More plans for leisurely sprints over the weekend, let us know if you’d like to join in.
Lola started out under a house, gathering dust and rust. Kaos Spurr spotted her and dragged her out, with intent to revive. The whole lot stripped and re-greased. Rust scrubbed off, dirt destroyed. Every piece of chrome polished and polished again. Now she looks even better than new.
The final re-build was accompanied by a few glasses of red and some good tunes, don’t say we ain’t civilised ’round these parts!
We’ve got another rejuvenation project in the works, hopefully it turns out look half as good as Lola. Full photos to come when I manage to catch up with KS long enough to take some.