The End is the Beginning is the End is the Bar Floor.

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The last time I up and left Flagstaff “For Good” was in 2008. During my last night in town, this happened thanks to THE SHINDAGGERS.

CAUSE.
CAUSE.

And:

EFFECT.
EFFECT.

Sometime next week, I will be leaving Flagstaff “FOR GOOD” again to head to Colorado Springs. That means my life is currently in boxes and my bikes are for sale. Well, just one bike, and it’s for more than one reason:

My Bitch.
My Bitch.

So far I’ve had no luck selling this steed, which is crazy because it’s  a sick ride that I would otherwise take with me, but my back (and my wife) say get rid of it and buy a squish bike. Selling bikes always conjures up memories of bikes past, and how I always regret selling them. Take, for instance, this guy:

You're Right. I AM Intense.
You're Right. I AM Intense.

Or how about this monster:

There was about a week when I thought I was a dirt jumper.
There was about a week when I thought I was a dirt jumper.

I don’t so much miss this one as I missed the opportunity to replace it with another squisher:

Early 2000's Gnar.
Early 2000's Gnar.

Then there’s the crown jewel, my college ride:

Knee Basher
Knee Basher

And who can forget the one that got away:

The ex I call up drunk in the middle of the night.
The ex I call up drunk in the middle of the night.

There are several more, but I won’t waste your time with more glamour shots of my past bicycles.

Flagstaff is, if nothing else, a microcosm of bike dorkdom. I’ve owned more bikes in my six years here than I’ve owned pairs of underwear. I ride, I fall down, I ride more, I wrench on bike, I ride more, I break bike, I ride more, and so on. And in between, I go through long phases of just not wanting to ride. Yet as I sit here on my couch, and I see my mountain bike in the kitchen (yes, it’s in the kitchen…why not? The house is a disaster…), I am overcome with an immediate sense of relief just knowing the bike is there.

I’m not stoked on Colorado Springs at the moment, but as long as there’s a bike there, I’ll be fine. So I sell away Flagstaff to upgrade (?) to Colorado Springs. Maybe I’ll regret it, but at least I’ll have the pictures to prove I owned it. Sayonara, Flagville. Keep the hippies in the coffee shops and the tourists out of the streets.

IMG_1485-8

About D2

I am a writer and a photographer. I never killed a man in Reno, but I once rode a bike through a casino in Vegas. Bikes are cool, huevos rancheros are for breakfast, whiskey is for dinner. Denver, Colorado, USA

14 Replies to “The End is the Beginning is the End is the Bar Floor.”

  1. I wouldn’t even try to ride when I was drunk. My balance on a bike was beyond retarded after just a few drinks. Crashed every time. Actually talked to a doc about it and he said it was probably cause of my eye(blind in left eye at birth). Stopped even trying.

    Good to see I ain’t the only putz drunk on a bike.

    Best of luck in Colorado Springs brother.

  2. Those Klein fullies are goofy as shit. A buddy of mine rode one until the drive-side chain stay snapped.

    Around here, the only bike allowed in the house is the Trophy Bike. All the other bikes (the ones that touch dirt or mud) live in the carport, the shed or my office.

  3. The Klein bashed my knees with that ridiculous pivot about a billion times. That’s why I ended up getting rid of it. Funky little ride, though. Lot of fun while it lasted.

  4. Just stay west of I-25 and life will be better. Stop in post ride at trinity brewing or the ancient mariner for a good time.

    I like the bike you’re selling feel free to shoot me an email if you’d be willing to ship it.

    Good luck in C Springs!

  7. we have the same INTENSE bike in my garage. my roommate loves it, it belonged to her dad first, but it needs a little TLC.

  9. #2,3,4 all ‘dream bikes’ of mine at some stage. Is that a Foes fork on the aweosme vintage M1? Sweet rides.

  10. It was, indeed, an M1. Bought it broken and rebuilt the bastard after a few phone calls to Foes. Thing was badass.

  12. There are worse places than C springs,,,,instead of Hippies you will have churches and right wingers. But the hills are right out the front door..

  13. Springs is a horrid place filled with freeways, chain restaurants, air force arseholes and insane bible thumpers. The riding, however, is amazing. So, yeah… not really sure where I was going with that. Good luck I guess.

  14. …for any of you old schoolers, the esteemed mr bill woodul lived in colorado springs…

    …although bill passed away in 1999, i gotta believe ‘the springs’ is still a better place for him having lived there…

    …god dammit, bill…i’ve got both a tear in my eye a big smile on my face just thinkin’ about ‘cha…love, bgw…