I’m borrowing the title of the post from this, of course:  check it. (or crink here to their Myspace for a listen.)  shit’s good. We all do ride bikes, and in a set of words similar to some words that Stevil Kinevil say when he’s not flushing mulch and marbles out his mouth:  people using [...]

They were the bane of every mechanic with whom i wrenched, these corn bespeckled wads of Christmas cheer.  The product of bullshit efforts that rode tandem with the sweatpants boner explosion of corporate BMX,  the Everyman’s Dually instantly reeked of rotting integrity.  As wrenches from coast to coast began having to massage these turd lumps [...]

Eskimo has no real equivalents to our words “create” or “make” which presuppose imposition of the self on matter. The closest Eskimo term “to work on” which also involves an act of will, but one which is restrained. The carver never attempts to force the ivory into uncharacteristic forms, but responds to the material as [...]

I’m not clowning around right now:  it fucking kills, all this nonsense.  people go down so hard.  riding bikes — that’s the way to be getting around.  you should be so lucky, to be so young, so fresh, so blameless — and so vulnerable. It does hurt to see the news of these losses, these [...]

Friday night.  Pops in town.  The Hawklet sleeps, as does her Momma.  They all went to bed exhausted after hours of me telling stories of how absolutely adorable I was as a baby, and how i make people feel sort of awkward by being sooooo handawesome.  (i’m going bald.)  Family as fuck, for sure, but [...]

I’ve said it before (this always predicates me saying “I’ll say it again.”) and I’ll say it again:  he is not a mesh hat.  he was not fodder for rip-off artists at white trash beach superstores.  He was Von fucking Dutch.  Kenny Howard, dammit. In his own words, “I make a point of staying right [...]

pro sports is my game.  i eat the wins.  i kill the poor.  the losers are toilet paper.  the fans scream.  the winner is me.  i win.  vote with my dollar.  we are the ones who play.  others lose the wad.  sympathy = loser.  winner = hamburger.  i win with ketchup. here comes the weather.  [...]

it’s weekend as fuck over here.  time to get cracking. never pick up hitch hikers.  DO pick up beer.  and while you’re at it, pick up some cigs, and since you’ve come this far, you may as well just go ahead and rent some videos.  do it, sissy. celebrate the re-launch of this site.  i [...]

there was a little comment somewhere down there by the maestro, jonny.  “fucktard,” it said. seems like not too long ago, there was a contingency of west coast travelers exchanging couches, chain lube, scabs, dabs, pork, torque, bikes, boards, tales, fails and tails. when it snows in scottsdale, unplug your coffee machine and dump rounds [...]

They might make you look like a shamelessly lazy fat pig, but these things are great for catching up with the ice-cream truck.   Thanks, VICE. Their harsh is always on time.

i thought giantcu92 were talkin’ bout summa dis right here: keep it ghost.

i rode this big jerk of a bicycle up a big jerk of a hill today. it’s metal as fuck and weighs in just shy of the 50lb mark, what with its lo-ten tubes and all.  i once gave a tap of the screwdriver on the top tube to see what sort of pretty ring could [...]