I’m in the paper! You can see why my back was so screwed up yesterday, and yes those are my underpants on over long-johns. I was told that was the right way to dress for the team.
Also, there a nice photo from Roller Derby with our friends Hanna and Sarah in it.
You go girls!
Rocking a little free underground internet here at the Embarcaderro. I got royally soaked riding down from the office at 10:30pm when I finally arranged my exodus. Such is life in the KoneZone of late.
It actually felt good to ride in the rain. Really good. It’s not ideal over the long haul, and I hope it clears up by tomorrow, but it’s been quite some time since I felt the spatter of cool spring water on my face; swishing down slick glinty city streets flickering with yellow orange sodium vapor light… It made me feel young at heart, free and easy, like projing on home to Brooklyn back in the day.
I used to be much more rugged and rough, much more obviously confident, risk-inclined. If my train went off the track I picked it up, picked it up, picked it up. Those were glory days. Not the glory days oh ye of the nostalgia police, but a set of days glorious and undeniable. Their memory is worth keeping alive, the better for their spirit to live again.
So in following the advice of Wu-Tang Financial Services to “diversify our bonds” and “protect our goddamn necks,” Chapter Three LLC is launching its first offshoot business venture, which is naturally a boutique fixed-gear bike business: Mission Bicycle.
Today we (or mostly our bike-savvy partner John from Cincinatti) were interviewed by the influential Bike Snob NYC blog, where the snobs are sounding off (fwiw, the frame does not “cost $25 including shipping.”). We’re doing biz in the Bay, with no immediate plans for east-coast distribution, but this is still a good chance for us to define our brand and get our name out there.
Here are some of my favorite quotes:
This is a San Francisco-bred bike. It can be pretty wet there. How come no braze-ons or fender eyelets?
It’s a slippery slope. A fender eyelet here, a brake mount there, and pretty soon you’ll end up with with 27 gears, lazy-boy geometry, and both of your Docker pant flaps pinned down by reflective yellow ankle bracelets. You can always toss a seat post mount or clip on fender if you’re really in trouble.
…
Will riding without a hooded sweatshirt, colored chain or top tube pad void the warranty?
We are consulting with our legal team on this one. Likely we would probably need to know a little bit more about the musical tastes, coffee shop preferences, ironical abilities, and jean size of each rider before passing final judgement.
While my own disdain for hipsters is well-established, this is clearly a part of the market we’re looking to hit once we’ve cleared our first and second-degree social connections. Don’t hate the player, hate the game, etc.
So, you know, you can get this off the internet the same way I get most of my video entertainment (savvy?), and I just watched it and it was really good. I don’t go for Moore’s coy, “gee mister, don’t people in Cuba have to pay for healthcare” character, but his films can be quite thoughtful, and this is some of his best work. The assembled stores really speak for themselves.
One thing that stuck out for me was this bit from France, where they make sure that if you’re poor and you need to take a cab home you can walk out with some cash. There’s a line where the French doctor says, when asked about paying bills, something along the lines of, “the only qualification for walking out is that you’re healthy enough and are going someplace safe.”
That hit home for me, reminded me of the bike crash that got me wearing a helmet:
Actually, the stitches are not that much of a pain. There were a few woozy moments in the ER, but the real damage is muscular. I righteously pulled out my groin and jammed by elbow, both on the left side. Heading in I could walk and move pretty well. Walking out of the hospital took me a full five minutes gimping along, coming close to out and out crying on the ramp leading to the street. It’s a hell of a thing to be totally incapacitated.
That was a real fucked-up five minute walk down a 40-foot hallway. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to make it, moving literally one foot in front of the other out to the street to get a car to take me back to Brooklyn. The way the hospital staff would look away as they passed by, or give this kind of sheepish “good luck” grin, still sticks with me. I believe the system we have is evil on a kind of spiritual level for creating moments like that.
Another thing that stuck with me was the first thing Dr. Miller (he was good; I remember his name) asked when he saw my head was whether or not to send me up to a plastic surgeon. I did a double-take and told him I didn’t have any coverage and he paused a beat and then said “I’ll do the absolute best I can.”
As like I said, he did good. Those stitches healed up straight and true and unless I’ve gotten a lot of sun you can barely tell they were there. And anyway, chicks dig scars, right?
I’ve lived largely without insurance since graduating from college, all except for the year I worked for MFA, and for the most part it’s been ok. I’m lucky to be strong and healthy in spite of my breakneck lifestyle and questionable diet. One time I got a bad flu and went to the San Francisco Free Clinic, which is a leftover from the 60s, but where I got penicillin for $3. The first time I really wrecked in NYC it was late and there was no traffic cop to see me go down and hustle me into an ambulance, and I didn’t need stitches or anything, so I biked home and just gutted it out.
I’ve done allright. I’ve been lucky. As I get a little older I get to feeling a bit more risk-averse. Soon we’ll have insurance through work, and that’ll be nice; but the truth is, as this film makes abundantly clear, an insurance-based, profit-driven health care system will always be extremely problematic, as it’s paradigmatically oriented away from providing treatment. Even for those with coverage.
I’ve said before that I want my first new car to be an alternative fuel or electric vehicle. Similarly, I’d really like it if by the time I have kids we’ve gotten our shit together to where health care isn’t such a humongous clusterfuck. Here’s hoping.
UPDATE: Oh man; I have pain. Ursa Vehicularis did great, moving like a tank through water, sand, and land. The kids are allright, and their infectious spirit — plus maybe the big bear balls hanging from the rear of the sculpture — earned them the coveted rider’s choice awards. I’m totally beat, but totally happy to have been able to take part.
I’ve been participating in the Kinetic Grand Championship, helping out my man Mark’s Pacific Coast high school team. It’s basically a three-day, 42-mile, human-powered machine/sculpture race covering roads, sand, and a section in Humboldt Bay. The motto: For The Glory.
I’m having a lot of fun with it.
There’s a lot of media on a blog KHUM set up. It’s a pretty well-attended event, and the number of people (me included) with little digicams assures there will be plenty of citizen coverage.
The story for us is rivalry with the Six Rivers Charter School team, featured here. Our Bear got out to an early lead — they had some mechanical issues — but they caught up with some well-timed bending of the rules. Cheating and sabotage are part of the tradition, so you can’t really begrudge them, though they were a little brazen about it. “Am I the only one who gives a shit about the rules!”
We overtook them on the final downhill home-stretch, though, so all is well. For today.
Tomorrow starts off with the water section, where the wheels will get paddles attached and pontoons will be inflated. Every team has their own strategy for floatability, but it’s well-known that this is the leg that most unsparingly separates the wheat from the chaff. I’ll probably have to miss that part and catch up later in the afternoon, but I’ll bring word of the final outcome for sure.
