02.12.2009 | 1:55 pm
It’s been noted before that I “[know] nothing about the history of cycling, how it evolved, the industry, [or] who were the actors.”
Luckily for me, Billy Savage — the guy behind Klunkerz: A Film About Mountain Bikes — recently offered to mail me a copy of his DVD. This was an excellent opportunity to “educate [myself] in the matter.”
What Klunkerz Is About
Klunkerz is a kindhearted documentary of the birth of the mountain bike. Consisting of interviews and old photos and movies of the guys even I know the names of (Gary Fisher, Joe Breeze, Tom Ritchey) and some I don’t, it fondly recalls how a bunch of friends stumbled and innovated their way into the early stages of the sport of mountain biking.
Take note: I was not interviewed for this movie, and hence feel somewhat slighted, seeing as how I believe I can lay unchallenged claim to an important niche in this sport, being the undisputed inventor of the cycling / weight loss / comedy blog. Where would mountain biking be without me, is what I’d like to know.
But I am not bitter, and will not let my natural and proper resentment color my review, in spite of the gaping hole this documentary has, lacking my input.
What I Thought About Klunkerz
Watching Klunkerz, the impression that builds is one of niceness. All these guys have nothing but nice things to say about each other and the good times they had, and how smart they each were and how talented.
For example, I wrote the following in my notebook as I watched: “Joe Breeze seems like he would be the best uncle, ever.”
I also noted how Charlie Kelly — the original business partner with Gary Fisher — had nothing but nice things to say about Fisher. And Gary Fisher had nothing but nice things to say about Charlie Kelly. Except Fisher fired Kelly (Fisher describes the moment as “taking Charlie for a walk around the block”).
And now Gary Fisher is one of the best-recognized names in mountain biking, and Charlie Kelly moves pianos for a living.
But there’s no tension between them? No anger? Well, I suppose that’s possible, but if that’s really somehow the case, the documentary should have revealed how it’s possible that two good friends form a company, one of the friends fires the other and goes on to make it big, while the other…doesn’t, but there’s no animosity between them.
But Klunkerz doesn’t talk about the schisms that either did or did not form between Fisher and Breeze and Ritchey and others. And since it didn’t talk about how any schisms formed, it also couldn’t talk about how these schisms might have been bridged.
Without conflict, there can be no resolution. No triumph. Which means you have a film that feels more like a high school class reunion than an actual documentary.
It feels, frankly, as if there was considerable negotiating about what would and would not be said in the film before the cameras rolled.
Holy crap, this review’s getting a lot more serious than I intended.
Still Worth Watching
While the business end of this movie feels a little too careful, the more important part — the reminiscing — doesn’t feel forced at all. Both in the archive images (pics and what looks like Super 8) and the interviews, you get a sense of how much fun these guys were having as they rode and raced and built and crashed their bikes.
And that, as far as I’m concerned, is the real value of — and a sufficient reason to watch — Klunkerz: it shows how, right from the beginning, how much fun mountain biking is. And how, decades later, it still defines who these guys are.
It’s just too bad Savage overlooked the contribution of cycling comedy bloggers to the evolution of this sport, because then he might have had a really great documentary.
PS: You can learn more about Klunkerz at Klunkerz.com, and buy the DVD at Amazon.com.
Comments (23)
02.11.2009 | 1:26 pm
Last year,
I obsessively tracked Jill Homer’s ride / race in the Iditarod Trail Invitational (as well as navel-gazed about why I would never do it myself). And then, once she got back, I pretty much had her blog on 30-second refresh, waiting for each update as she told her story.
I couldn’t help myself. She had just done something I would love to do, if only I had the nerve. And if I liked being cold more. And if I didn’t get lost so easily. There are other reasons, but these are sufficient.
So, naturally, when Jill published Ghost Trails: Journeys through a lifetime , of course I ordered a copy. Here’s why:
- I love a well-told story of any sort.
- I love well-told stories about epic mountain bike rides even more.
- I love well-told stories about epic mountain bike stories by my friends most of all.
It’s that third point that makes Jill’s Iditarod story really worth reading, at least for me. See, even though I have never met Jill in person, she tells enough about herself in her blog that I feel like she’s a friend — and lots of other people are the same way.
So, provided you already “know” Jill from reading her stories and looking at her pictures — this book is pretty much review-proof. You’re going to like it, because you like Jill, and you like her stories about her adventures.
Still, I have a few observations after reading Jill’s book. Here they are:
I Cheated
When I bought Ghost Trails, what I wanted and assumed I was getting was a much longer, more detailed telling of Jill’s Iditarod Trail Invitational (ITI) race than what she tells in her blog. And — to a degree — you get that, although I felt like Jill told only incrementally more about her race.
Instead of lots and lots and lots more about her epic ride last year, Jill interstices chapters about sections of the race with chapters about going on a hike when she was a tweener, going on a hike when she was a teenager, meeting Geoff, hiking with Geoff, rafting with Geoff, biking with Geoff, camping with Geoff, and moving to Alaska with Geoff.
I’m pretty sure I get why she did this: by alternating chapters about her pre-race life with chapters about her race, we gain context about who Jill is and what might be going through her head as she rides.
And that’s fine. That’s an interesting strategy for telling a story.
But that’s not the way I read the book.
After reading a couple of the chapters the way Jill ordered them, I told myself that what I really wanted right that moment was to get immersed in the ITI. I would come back later and read the other essays.
So I skipped every other chapter, at which point — oddly, I guess — the book hung together much better for me.
Jill and I Have Different Stuff Going On In Our Heads When We Ride
Before reading Ghost Trails, I had what I now realize is a completely stupid misconception in my head: that the way I feel and think when I’m on a long ride is pretty much the way other people feel and think when they’re on a ride.
But as I read Ghost Trails, I found myself again and again thinking, “Wow, what a foreign thought.”
For example, when I am completely cooked and realize I am way over my head, ridewise, I tend to start having an interior dialogue. It goes like this:
Me: “Hey, nice work. This was a very smart ride for you to go on. If you want to die.“
Me: “I know. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
Me: “I know what you’re doing here. But I choose not to tell you.”
Me: “Hey, did you bring any extra packets of mayonnaise? I’m hungry”
Me: “Yes, but they’re mine. I’m not sharing.”
Seriously, I just get increasingly silly as time goes on.
In contrast, here’s something from Jill’s book, when she hits a wall on a cross-country bike ride:
“Geoff, who had put a large gap in front of me at that point, finally returned after I had been sitting in the dith, sobbing, for several minutes. “What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked breathlessly.
“I’m sorry,” I blubbered. “I’m not hurt. I tried to… but I just can’t… had to let it out. It’s too hard. It’s too far. It’s just too far.”
Jill describes episodes of misery like this several times in her book. As I read, I tried to picture her mindset — and I couldn’t.
This was actually my favorite part about Jill’s book: the fact that she’s willing to write with candor, and that this candor exposes a riding mindset that’s completely new to me.
My goofiness keeps me going. Jill’s essentially the opposite: her intensity (and often, let’s face it, despair) somehow keeps her motivated. Reading this book made me consider, for the first time, that there must in fact be an infinite number of personal reasons for staying on the bike when it would be easier to get off.
It was fun to get into a completely different kind of rider’s head.
I Miss the Pictures
My only disappointment Ghost Trails is that it has only a few photos. Jill’s a gifted photographer and has photos in pretty much every blog post she writes, so I expected good photography — even if black and white — to complement the stories. But photos come only at the beginnings of chapters in this book, and they’re generally pretty dark (not to mention greyscale). I’m guessing Jill saw how photos looked on this kind of paper and decided to go mostly with text, but it’s still something I miss.
Jill’s Book Makes Me Want to Never Ever Ever Do This Race
One effect of reading Ghost Trails was that I am now completely certain I don’t ever want to do that race. Because, if I recall Jill’s book properly, you only get to ride your bike about 3 miles. The other 347 you get to push it through waist-deep snow.
Except when you’re wading through a river or climbing an ice-cliff.
It just doesn’t sound like much fun. And to tell the truth, it doesn’t sound like a bike’s the right vehicle for the terrain.
So I’m glad Jill did it — and is doing it again this year — and is willing to tell the story, so I can experience it vicariously.
Comments (33)
02.9.2009 | 10:55 pm
I’ve gotten a lot of stuff in the mail lately. Bike-related stuff. And since my bike-riding antics are currently limited to spinning on the rollers while I watch an episode of some show or another each morning at 5:00, this seems like a good time for me to talk about what’s shown up in the mailbox.
In the next few days, I will talk about the following things, each of which has arrived in the mail: a book by Jill Homer, a book about the history of competition bicycles, a backpack, a video about the birth of mountain biking, a new flavor and packaging treatment for Shot Bloks, and an exercise video.
But first, I’m going to talk about the postcard I got last Saturday.
Here it is:
This is the confirmation postcard I look forward to getting every year — the postcard that tells me that once again my registration for the Leadville Trail 100 has been accepted.
I’ve started — and completed — this race 12 times, in 12 years. This will be number 13.
This year, though, I wasn’t sure I should enter. I mean, I simply do not know how I could leave Susan for even a single night, much less the three nights this race requires. And I mean that in two ways: first, there are things I help Susan with that nobody else has helped her with before, and that list is getting longer, not shorter.
But, obviously, I’ve signed up. Because this is one tradition I have a really difficult time imagining skipping, even for one year. As I registered, I told myself that August is a long ways away and I have time to get others to learn to help Susan, letting me take a few days off to do something I really love.
And that’s where the second way I have a hard time imagining leaving for a few days: Even if I figure out the logistics for helping Susan out while I’m gone for four days and three nights, I honestly can’t see myself leaving her for that long. I’m looking for a different word than “betrayal” to describe how it would feel — that’s too dramatic of a word for this — but I can’t think of one.
Maybe “selfish” comes close.
I understand that there was a huge influx of race entries for the Leadville 100 this year, partly due to the publicity that Lance Armstrong brings to it. I have no idea how many people didn’t get in, but I would guess the number goes into the hundreds, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it goes into the thousands.
Probably, at least a few of those people who didn’t get in will see this entry and pull out their hair, bothered by the unfairness of my new uncertainty about going to this race, when they would absolutely positively moved heaven and earth to do this race, had they only received a postcard like mine.
I would like to remind those people that my dilemma sucks much, much worse than theirs.
I suspect that I will, over the course of the next several months, piece together a way for me to go to this race, and do it in such a way that I can feel pretty comfortable in leaving Susan for a few days. Apart from being a hilarious and award-winning cycling comedian mastermind, my other real-life superpower is to figure out a way to make things possible.
Plus, I have a bunch of family members who know that this one race matters to me a lot, and they’ll pitch in. Especially now that they’ve seen me mope my way through this post.
However, I doubt that I will hang out in Leadville for quite so long before or after the race this year.
Comments (46)
02.9.2009 | 12:07 am
Back in August — almost half a year ago, now — I said that I had managed to get on the list for the not-for-retail-sale Gary Fisher Superfly Singlespeed (or, as I like to call it, The SingleFly).
Well, after the exquisite agony of this long wait — a wait for what I imagine as my ultimate dream bike — lookie what finally showed up at the shop last Friday afternoon.
And here’s a closeup of the dropouts:
And the fork — which I had expected to be white, like on the geared SuperFly, is instead black. Which is definitely a better match for the frame.
And the top tube.
Really, there’s just one problem with this frame:
It’s not mine.
Yeah, you read right.
Those pictures are all of Brent Hulme’s (owner / operator of SLC Bicycle Co.) Superfly SS. Including that one above of him gleefully licking it.
And it’s the wrong size, so I can’t steal it.
See, the frames are trickling in, little by little. And I don’t know if it’s a first-come-first-served order, or a size-based thing, or what, but my exquisite agony continues.
Geek Out
Here’s the thing, though. Having had this long to wait for the frame, I’ve had plenty of time to think about my build for this bike — and plenty of time to save up for some pretty nice parts.
Now, I should ‘fess up to something here. While I usually write at least somewhat for you, my audience, this whole post — and especially the rest of it — is pretty much for myself. Just me, drooling over all these presents I’ve given myself.
You’re still here? OK, but this isn’t going to be pretty.
Well, it’s pretty to me, but that’s not my point.
Here’s what my SuperFly SS build obsession looks like, as of this moment:
- Custom wheelset, built by Mike Curiak . Featuring pink Chris King hubs. It is my fervent hope that someday I will grow up to be Mike Curiak. If you read his blog, you will see why.
- On-One Carbon Fork . Yeah, I’ll also have a suspension fork, but I like riding my SS fully rigid, mostly.
- Truvativ Noir 1.1G Cranks . For no other reason than that they are beautiful.
- Avid Juicy Ultimate Brakes. I agonized over the brakes, and finally decided to go with the nicest ones I could find that still were likely to have parts available in most any bike shop.
- Time ATAC pedals. Just like on my other MTBs.
- Selle Italia SLR. Just like the saddle on all my other bikes — both mountain and road.
- Bontrager Big Sweep bar. I wonder if this mostly-flat, reasonably-light bar has enough sweep (12 degrees) that my right arm won’t go to sleep. That would be nice. (No link, because I can’t find it on the Bontrager site.)
- Titec J-Bar. I’m a big fan of Jeff Jones’ unusual designs, so I’m interested in trying this out — has the sweep I’m looking for, and the stubs up top might be nice for a change of hand position on long rides. (No link because Titec foolishly went with a Flash-based site, making links directly to a particular product impossible. Bad move, Titec!)
- An On-One Mary Bar. An earlier version of today’s post lamented that I couldn’t find my favorite bar of all time — the On-One Mary Bar — for sale in the U.S. In the comments section, Tinker (not Juarez, I assume) set me straight — U.S. customers can buy direct from the manufacturer, and the price, shipped from the UK, is totally fair. Also, Thom said he could hook me up with a Mary from his existing stock. Thanks for helping me out, guys!
- Arundel Dave-O bottle cages. Because they’re beautiful, and have the reputation of never ever ever ejecting bottles.
- Bontrager Race X Lite ACC . Carbon’s kinda a theme on this bike.
- Ergon GE1 grips . Thanks, Jeff!
- Bontrager XXX Lite grips . Thanks, Travis!
So now all I need to get is the frame.
Could Be Worse
Of course, waiting for a frame for this long is an excruciating lesson in delayed gratification. But I’m coping pretty well. After all, the weather’s not great for riding, yet. Having the bike built up and ready to go and then not being able to take it out and ride it might be even worse than not having the bike at all.
It’s hard to say.
Soon, though, Spring will be here. And so will my frame.
And then there will be rejoicing.
Comments (38)
02.6.2009 | 11:05 am
Today is the big LiveStrong Fundraiser over at Twin Six: half of everything they sell today will go toward the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
And, evidently, you people are taking advantage of the opportunity to get some great clothes while you fight cancer: so far today, they’ve sold $4800 $7700 $12,246 $16,530 worth of clothing, meaning $2400 $3850 $6123 $7500 $8,265 (!!!) goes to the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
Nice!
Love Is In The Air
I’d like to highlight a few things you might want to look into over at Twin Six. First up, be sure to check out their “T-Shirt of the month.”
Look at that: the wheels make a heart. Adorable!
Available in both women’s and men’s sizes, the Wheel Love T would make a splendid Valentine’s gift. Or you could buy one for yourself to make people think someone else bought you a Valentine’s gift.
Hey, you do what you gotta do.
Like all Twin Six T-Shirt’s of the Month, the Wheel Love T is trictly limited to 100. They won’t last through today. If you want one (or more), go order now.
Cool Stuff You Should Wear
Far be it from me to tell you what to wear on — or off — your bike, but Twin Six has got some pretty darn cool designs. Here’s just a sampling.
Now, go browse Twin Six and buy whatever suits you. And think about the fact that half of whatever you spend is going toward the fight against cancer. Click any of the images below to go to that catalog page on the Twin Six site.
For
All You People Who Wondered When You Could Get a Fat Cyclist Jersey, The Answer Is NOW.
A couple times per day, I get email from folks asking when they can get a Fat Cyclist jersey. Well, the answer is: right this second. While doing inventory, Twin Six found one box of Men’s Fat Cyclist jerseys. There aren’t many, though, so I promise you these will not last through the day.
If you want one, better go get one. [UPDATE: Medium is sold out]
[UPDATE 2: Large is sold out.]
Also, there are a few Fat Cyclist jerseys in Women’s Medium size. These won’t last long, either. [UPDATE: These are sold out.]
And by the way, I love the fact that half of your Fat Cyclist jersey purchase will go toward Team Fatty’s fight against cancer.
Everyone Loves the Fat Cyclist Wooly
Want to know a little secret? When I took the photos of Susan’s new jewelry, I used my new Fat Cyclist Long-Sleeved Wool jersey as the backdrop.
That’s an unusual use case, but still.
The thing is, I love this jersey. It is the nicest-looking, best-feeling long-sleeve jersey I have ever owned. And judging from some of the unsolicited comments from yesterday’s post, I’m not the only one who thinks this thing is a comfortable work of art.
Here’s the thing, though. There were — as of this morning — only 25 of them. As of right now, you can still get one in most sizes , but I kind of doubt that will be the case for the whole day.
Sure, they’re expensive — $150. But consider this: for your $150 you’re getting a really excellent jersey, and making a $75 donation toward fighting cancer. That kicks butt.
G
et A Fatty Misprinted T for Cheap…If You’re The Right Size
A few 2008 Fat Cyclist T-shirts were printed with the cursive “Cyclist” in orange-with-white-shadow instead of the correct white-with-orange-shadow. There are only a few, and they’re only in Men’s Medium and XXXL.
I guess it’s a good thing that the Twin Six guys — not me — do what they do, because I am pretty certain I would never have noticed the problem. Trust me folks, you don’t want me doing quality control.
Someday, these will be worth thousands, but for right now, you can get one for $16.
Comments (25)
« Previous Page — « Previous Entries Next Entries » — Next Page »
