went “home” this past weekend. “home” is indiana, where pops lives. it was wedding time, and snakehawk’s daddy’s, as it were. it’s never too late to call it love.
this is what the cycling turf of my youth looks like. on days when the wind from michigan was keeping the state from going anywhere, i’d pretend [...]
in the wake of (r)adness.
Racing is as Racing Does.
One time i witnessed big kitchen racing, foaming at the mouth like a shitty science project.
bleeding from the eyes.
the hair on the back of his hands had turned green.
his kitchen sink was clunking down the trail behind him, like a car bumper hanging on by a brake light wire.
mothers covered their children’s eyes. (but mainly [...]
WHAT.
the gaze of an eagle fixed upon the one hill in indiana –
it must be right behind the camera.
the hair: a taught burl of young promise.
a young cutter, legs ashine in the academic glow of a solid C average.
late for school again, the miles mattered most.
mini-truck, denim sweater, mullet?
no.
bianchi, race kit, wristwatch.
my senior picture weighs [...]
Our Bike Punk?
Haven’t heard much out of him lately. Might be time to send Big Pun across the pond to investigate.
“biking to work, i happened upon this bike punk, passed out on road. i think he knocked side mirror off car. he was breathing so i let him be.”
Source: flickr.com/photos…
what a nice timefuck he is
I felt that I should put together some of the shit that has been rolling around in the ol grape, it being a monday n all. There’s really no good reason to live the blog life unless you just make shit up. Gramps was a preacherman too. Then he died. Too.
This is what I bailed [...]
Hawk do Art
So i made some more crap. One of the craps is even bike-related. Whoa, dewds. Maybe you wanna check it out.
HAWK DO ART
This guy did the after party, which was rad, because I have a total mancrush on him, and he KILLS the turntables. You may not care about that kind [...]
Oh Snap! TGIF…
You’d think that after 15 year of this shit, I’d have built up some skin, but every day, my PMA takes it like Tyson in the 8th. Question of the day:
“Which of these floor pumps is lighter?”
Are you fucking kidding? Who’s letting these people procreate? I took the rest of the day off.
TGIF is all [...]
Papa?
Man, in my ever-continuing search for my birth dad, I keep running across dudes that, because of their ridiculous cool factor, make me think, “Hmmmm. Maybe that’s my dad…”
this week’s winner: