Given my spotty output over the last few months, I suppose this is coming a bit late, but I'm going to be taking a break from this particular outlet for a while. It's not forcing me to write as much as it is specifically meant to, things that I really want to write about at the moment tend to neither begin with the letter "B" nor lend themselves to formats which web-logging handles gracefully, and, all in all, every time I sit down to type I feel like I'm trying to jam strangely shaped pegs into quite regularly shaped holes. Straddling the personal and the public and the journalistic and the wholly discredited, in real time, poses some issues. Along with too many people I know reading this and not enough strangers, it amounts to exactly the awkward position I was eager to avoid.
Everything else seems to be changing right now, so hell, why not this, too? Granted, if a particularly delicious beer or an especially noteworthy ride happens to roll along, I'm probably not going to pass up the appropriateness, but, y'know. Some notebook's probably feeding me drinks somewhere. Don't wait up.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
BROKEN STRINGS! Broken hearts.
Sometimes, all the words worth writing are only worth reading in private. At least there are sad songs for the sake of sharing. Attached to shitty video. Sigh.
Friday, February 13, 2009
BROKEN STRINGS! Long live Pabstmobile, be it dead or alive.
This evening, the Pabstmobile walked into the sunset. After taking one last stroll down to 12th and Salinas with the venerable Marin Kentfield that saw me through my first two years in this city, I took a good, long ride, cruising many avenues and alleyways I first met aboard ol' PBR. Then, in the most fitting tribute to that bike I could possibly have managed, I bought a bottle of Lagunitas Olde GnarlyWine, came home, and got hammered.
In that still-inebriated spirit, I bring you my very first installment of "BROKEN STRINGS!" Or, the entries in my blog dedicated to music. This one's all classics. This one's for the Pabstmobile.
In that still-inebriated spirit, I bring you my very first installment of "BROKEN STRINGS!" Or, the entries in my blog dedicated to music. This one's all classics. This one's for the Pabstmobile.
BIKES! I am the hungry wolf, I run endlessly with my mate.
Sometime back in September or so, I made the decision to purchase a new bike. As much as I love Mellow Yellow, it's in a considerably limited state. It only fits clip-on fenders, which felt prone to slipping and slapping, and the narrow stay tubing combined with nervous handling on hefty grocery runs to convince me that mounting a rack wouldn't be wise. With the headset starting to go (or probably gone already by some people's standards), winter ahead, some cheese saved up, and a well-researched decision on the ride I desired, the time was at hand.
The bicycle knows many ways of testing my patience, indeed. I arrived at my preferred bike shop, the Peddler on North Loop, to discover that the last Surly Cross Check in my size was on its way out the door, and that some minor changes being made to the frame for 2009 would leave QBP out of stock for a few months. I considered checking some other shops around town, but the Peddler's treated me well, and if I was going to make such a large investment, I really wanted them to be the ones building it up. So, I sucked it up and waited. And waited. In the meantime, Surlys (Surlies?) kept popping up everywhere I went, winking sweet chromoly teases at me. Winter never really came but more drought did, and Mellow Yellow soldiered on but rattled for relief.
Well, the '09 Cross Checks finally shipped in January, and if the last two weeks are any indication, my patience is going to be paid back for some time to come.
Let the bike erotica commence.
The Build
This is essentially the stock Cross Check complete, with just a few different parts. The Salsa Bell-Laps were replaced with 42 centimeter Nitto Noodle bars wrapped in red cloth tape, the knobby cyclocross tires were swapped out for Schwalbe Marathons, and after a couple days I switched back to the scavenged Specialized saddle I've been rocking on Mellow. (The WTB saddle that's included has a shape I'd consider friendlier to female riders, with a noticeable slope at the back. That said, it's a nice, firm saddle, definitely better than the squishy seats a lot of bikes seem to ship with these days.) Surly doesn't include pedals, but since my pedals (MKS Sylvans with Soma clips and Pake straps) were the classiest component on the Western Flyer to begin with, I was all set. Additional accessories include SKS fenders and a Jandd rack I can't really tell you much about, since the Banjo Brothers panniers haven't arrived yet. I'm not sure if the photograph quite does it justice, but it is one handsome beast.
The build quality straight out of the shop was excellent, save for a couple minor criticisms and one pretty major issue. The rear fender bracket that attaches to to the bridge leaves space for the fender to vibrate and rattle: this was quickly muted with some small shims - same for the loose rear reflector. Also, after about a week or so of riding, the front shift lever slid out from the end of the bar. This was a quick fix, and I'm glad to know now how to remove and install barcons, but it's the kind of thing that might send the less mechanically inclined back to the shop upset. The major issue did send me back to the shop, however, as it reared itself when I was riding nearby on 51st Street. The back wheel somehow slid forward in the dropouts, causing the tire to sound a warning cry against the fender before things got any worse. A quick and apologetic adjustment of the quick release skewer left everything good to go, but it was a bit nerve-wracking regardless. An easy mistake to make and to fix, but nonetheless something that my journalistic integrity necessitates mentioning. Lesson being, double check the quick releases on any bike before you ride it.
Those gripes aside, the rest of the build was beautifully done. Steering is smooth as butter, the drivetrain is stealthy-silent even after a couple rainy days, and aside from personalizing the action on my brakes and dialing in perfect saddle position, I haven't had to fiddle with a thing. A glowing example of the quality you get from a shop where every hand is greasy.
The Ride
Along with my daily commute and all the other random traveling I've done, I've taken the Cross Check out on a couple good, long rides, with a little bit of the Lady Bird Lake trail thrown in with all the, umm, varying Austin pavement. Surly riders are a proud bunch, and there is no shortage of glowing reviews for their products, so to put it simply, this bike absolutely lives up to its hype. It's a goddamn tank. The bone-rattling potholes of Hyde Park get chewed up and spit out. On the smooth slopes of Shoal Creek, it glides. The Hike and Bike Trail is no longer a sketchy premise for skinny tires but instead the calm cruise it should be, and the 18 speeds have both sides of the steepest hills completely covered. The Cross Check frame has long been praised for its broad utility, and the components Surly chose for the complete build serve to further the Swiss-Army-knife reputation. It just kills everything I throw at it. It may seem odd to describe a notoriously heavy bike as sleek and graceful, but when you ride something that handles so well you couldn't lose control of it if you tried, utilitarian sturdiness takes on some much sexier qualities.
Alas, every bike on Earth has its issues, and with this one, it's toe overlap. There's really no way of avoiding a little interference when you're combining large toe clips and wide fenders, but that doesn't make it any less noticeable:
Toe overlap, though feared by many, is not a difficult issue to deal with, though it does require a little practice to adjust your pedaling technique, and plenty of awareness when making slow, sharp turns. Big endorsement of SKS: I've only had one nasty slip where I caught my foot flush against the fender. It could have been much more embarrassing, were it not for for the genius design which allows for the fender stays to release from the fork end mounts. Rather than falling off my bike, I just pulled over, let my heart make up a couple beats, locked the stays back into place and went on my way. A great, thoughtful, reassuring feature.
The icing on this cake is, without a doubt, the Nitto Noodles.
Find me a more comfortable drop bar and I'll find you a three-eyed cat. I was worried that the smallest width available might be a bit wide for my tastes; I stand corrected. There are no less than five distinctly functional, totally comfortable hand positions on these things. I was almost exclusively in the drops on my old bike; now I'm up on the hoods, relaxing on the back of the ramps, all over the place. Both long rides and quick errands are wildly more comfortable as a result, and my poor back is in love with Nitto for ever and ever.
Hell Yes
This bike has a hold on my heart already, and many, many miles ahead of it. I'm itching for my panniers, which will get the bag off my back, putting long adventures and lots more groceries within my reach. It's really the steel I believed it would be, and the folks at the Peddler made finally getting it between my legs a pleasure.
So now, it's time to say goodbye to the Pabstmobile. The first bike of my adult life has served me well, but it's been sitting sessile since summer began, and it's time for it to serve someone else. Off to Yellow Bike to pass along one set of pedals, then into the night to push the others.
The bicycle knows many ways of testing my patience, indeed. I arrived at my preferred bike shop, the Peddler on North Loop, to discover that the last Surly Cross Check in my size was on its way out the door, and that some minor changes being made to the frame for 2009 would leave QBP out of stock for a few months. I considered checking some other shops around town, but the Peddler's treated me well, and if I was going to make such a large investment, I really wanted them to be the ones building it up. So, I sucked it up and waited. And waited. In the meantime, Surlys (Surlies?) kept popping up everywhere I went, winking sweet chromoly teases at me. Winter never really came but more drought did, and Mellow Yellow soldiered on but rattled for relief.
Well, the '09 Cross Checks finally shipped in January, and if the last two weeks are any indication, my patience is going to be paid back for some time to come.
Let the bike erotica commence.
The Build
This is essentially the stock Cross Check complete, with just a few different parts. The Salsa Bell-Laps were replaced with 42 centimeter Nitto Noodle bars wrapped in red cloth tape, the knobby cyclocross tires were swapped out for Schwalbe Marathons, and after a couple days I switched back to the scavenged Specialized saddle I've been rocking on Mellow. (The WTB saddle that's included has a shape I'd consider friendlier to female riders, with a noticeable slope at the back. That said, it's a nice, firm saddle, definitely better than the squishy seats a lot of bikes seem to ship with these days.) Surly doesn't include pedals, but since my pedals (MKS Sylvans with Soma clips and Pake straps) were the classiest component on the Western Flyer to begin with, I was all set. Additional accessories include SKS fenders and a Jandd rack I can't really tell you much about, since the Banjo Brothers panniers haven't arrived yet. I'm not sure if the photograph quite does it justice, but it is one handsome beast.
The build quality straight out of the shop was excellent, save for a couple minor criticisms and one pretty major issue. The rear fender bracket that attaches to to the bridge leaves space for the fender to vibrate and rattle: this was quickly muted with some small shims - same for the loose rear reflector. Also, after about a week or so of riding, the front shift lever slid out from the end of the bar. This was a quick fix, and I'm glad to know now how to remove and install barcons, but it's the kind of thing that might send the less mechanically inclined back to the shop upset. The major issue did send me back to the shop, however, as it reared itself when I was riding nearby on 51st Street. The back wheel somehow slid forward in the dropouts, causing the tire to sound a warning cry against the fender before things got any worse. A quick and apologetic adjustment of the quick release skewer left everything good to go, but it was a bit nerve-wracking regardless. An easy mistake to make and to fix, but nonetheless something that my journalistic integrity necessitates mentioning. Lesson being, double check the quick releases on any bike before you ride it.
Those gripes aside, the rest of the build was beautifully done. Steering is smooth as butter, the drivetrain is stealthy-silent even after a couple rainy days, and aside from personalizing the action on my brakes and dialing in perfect saddle position, I haven't had to fiddle with a thing. A glowing example of the quality you get from a shop where every hand is greasy.
The Ride
Along with my daily commute and all the other random traveling I've done, I've taken the Cross Check out on a couple good, long rides, with a little bit of the Lady Bird Lake trail thrown in with all the, umm, varying Austin pavement. Surly riders are a proud bunch, and there is no shortage of glowing reviews for their products, so to put it simply, this bike absolutely lives up to its hype. It's a goddamn tank. The bone-rattling potholes of Hyde Park get chewed up and spit out. On the smooth slopes of Shoal Creek, it glides. The Hike and Bike Trail is no longer a sketchy premise for skinny tires but instead the calm cruise it should be, and the 18 speeds have both sides of the steepest hills completely covered. The Cross Check frame has long been praised for its broad utility, and the components Surly chose for the complete build serve to further the Swiss-Army-knife reputation. It just kills everything I throw at it. It may seem odd to describe a notoriously heavy bike as sleek and graceful, but when you ride something that handles so well you couldn't lose control of it if you tried, utilitarian sturdiness takes on some much sexier qualities.
Alas, every bike on Earth has its issues, and with this one, it's toe overlap. There's really no way of avoiding a little interference when you're combining large toe clips and wide fenders, but that doesn't make it any less noticeable:
Toe overlap, though feared by many, is not a difficult issue to deal with, though it does require a little practice to adjust your pedaling technique, and plenty of awareness when making slow, sharp turns. Big endorsement of SKS: I've only had one nasty slip where I caught my foot flush against the fender. It could have been much more embarrassing, were it not for for the genius design which allows for the fender stays to release from the fork end mounts. Rather than falling off my bike, I just pulled over, let my heart make up a couple beats, locked the stays back into place and went on my way. A great, thoughtful, reassuring feature.
The icing on this cake is, without a doubt, the Nitto Noodles.
Find me a more comfortable drop bar and I'll find you a three-eyed cat. I was worried that the smallest width available might be a bit wide for my tastes; I stand corrected. There are no less than five distinctly functional, totally comfortable hand positions on these things. I was almost exclusively in the drops on my old bike; now I'm up on the hoods, relaxing on the back of the ramps, all over the place. Both long rides and quick errands are wildly more comfortable as a result, and my poor back is in love with Nitto for ever and ever.
Hell Yes
This bike has a hold on my heart already, and many, many miles ahead of it. I'm itching for my panniers, which will get the bag off my back, putting long adventures and lots more groceries within my reach. It's really the steel I believed it would be, and the folks at the Peddler made finally getting it between my legs a pleasure.
So now, it's time to say goodbye to the Pabstmobile. The first bike of my adult life has served me well, but it's been sitting sessile since summer began, and it's time for it to serve someone else. Off to Yellow Bike to pass along one set of pedals, then into the night to push the others.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
BEER! Some things I've been drinking while I haven't been writing.
Having an employee discount which applies to the sweet, sweet nectar can be a mixed blessing. Perhaps in the monotone days before Jimmy Carter let brewers bloom like wildflowers, it would have been more of a straightforward asset. As it stands, though, our store is still in the contraction stage of its expansion, and the beer cooler's gotten hit pretty hard. Long minutes are often spent just standing and staring, trying to figure out which old standby I'm in the mood for while daydreaming of something more exotic.
Lately, though, there's been an impressive amount of rotation going on within the extremely tight parameters of our beer stock, and just when I think it's time to head up the street and spend exorbitant sums gambling on flavor, Shane wheels out something fresh and new. A couple of these fall into that category, another's been in and out for a bit, and still others, well... I can only be so loyal.
Great Divide Yeti Imperial Stout: What's in a name? Every once in a while, everything you need to know. As you may have guessed, I'm big on the stouts, and this one's definitely a keeper, though not something I'd advise wrestling with too many nights in a row. Filling a very particular niche - not quite the complex masterpiece that is North Coast's Old Rasputin, not quite the dangerously drinkable blackness that is Oskar Blues' Ten Fidy - it seems to fall right in its own gap. Roasty to almost burnt flavors are coupled with a hint of the Yeti's alcohol strength, but the real star with this one is the hops. I like hoppy beers, but I don't always like what happens when stouts attempt to be hoppy beers; this is a definite exception. Rather than overwhelming the Yeti's other aspects, the hops provide a nice bitterness underneath everything else before drying out the finish considerably. It makes for a slow-sippin' experience, but can also leave you a bit more beaten down at the end than other stouts with comparable ABV. Yeti, indeed.
Oskar Blues Gordon: This one went away for a while, then came back as singles instead of four-packs, a stocking decision that has been roundly rewarded. I had really forgotten how delicious this beer is, but it's been creeping back into my regular rotation. Hugely hopped in the stickiest way imaginable, yet somehow the other ingredients manage to hold up to the thick, oily onslaught. Pour it and be amazed to see such a seductive strawberry-blond syrup coming out of a can. Like the rest of Oskar Blues offerings, it's awful easy to drink for its alcohol content (8.7% ABV), so do take care. Those hop oils can also overwhelm whatever wanders across your tongue after them, so you might want to avoid putting this one down if you're planning on tasting anything more subtle afterward.
Lagunitas Ruben & the Jets: The latest in Lagunitas' Zappa tribute line, this one was... strange. I love me some Lagunitas IPA, and had really high hopes after the thoroughly satisfying "We're Only In It for the Money" tripel. Part of me wants to try Ruben again, while part of me thinks I'm better off just forgetting about the sensory confusion that came out of the bottle. Dark brown, really sweet, no evidence of the high alcohol content, no evidence of what style this is aiming for, exactly. If you're feeling adventurous, you could certainly do worse with four bucks, but if you're looking for something specific, you might not want to reach for the "BoppaDooAyDoo Style Ale." It's a limited release, so I really oughta give it another shot, but... strange.
Flying Dog Snake Dog IPA: Something about using Ralph Steadman artwork to sell beer bothers me more than it probably should, but apparently Hunter was pretty tight with the guy who founded this brewery, so I should stop it with the goddamn pinko sensitivity and embrace the bloody thrills of commerce. Branding aside, Snake Dog was a pleasant surprise. I picked it up at the convenient store purely on the basis of it being the most bang for my buck, but ended up enjoying it an awful lot. Surprisingly malty for an IPA, it's really got it's own thing going on. Another one that slides down a lot easier than it probably should, a characteristic that seems to be shared by all the beers I've been sampling while I haven't been writing. Hmmm.
Boulevard Irish Ale: The one I'm tossing back right now. This is the first Boulevard I've had since the Sixth Glass quadrupel from their "Smokestack Series" had its way with me. I have to admit, the difference between their higher end offering and this seasonal from their standard six-pack (or six-box, as it were) line is pretty clear; certainly no minds being blown here. That said, it's pretty tasty just the same, and the bottle conditioning seems to do quite a lot to reinforce a mildly sweet, summer-grass sort of flavor and malts vaguely reminiscent of New Belgium's recipes. Another one that goes down easy, but without the worrisome ABV. And here I am typing something! Imagine that.
Lately, though, there's been an impressive amount of rotation going on within the extremely tight parameters of our beer stock, and just when I think it's time to head up the street and spend exorbitant sums gambling on flavor, Shane wheels out something fresh and new. A couple of these fall into that category, another's been in and out for a bit, and still others, well... I can only be so loyal.
Great Divide Yeti Imperial Stout: What's in a name? Every once in a while, everything you need to know. As you may have guessed, I'm big on the stouts, and this one's definitely a keeper, though not something I'd advise wrestling with too many nights in a row. Filling a very particular niche - not quite the complex masterpiece that is North Coast's Old Rasputin, not quite the dangerously drinkable blackness that is Oskar Blues' Ten Fidy - it seems to fall right in its own gap. Roasty to almost burnt flavors are coupled with a hint of the Yeti's alcohol strength, but the real star with this one is the hops. I like hoppy beers, but I don't always like what happens when stouts attempt to be hoppy beers; this is a definite exception. Rather than overwhelming the Yeti's other aspects, the hops provide a nice bitterness underneath everything else before drying out the finish considerably. It makes for a slow-sippin' experience, but can also leave you a bit more beaten down at the end than other stouts with comparable ABV. Yeti, indeed.
Oskar Blues Gordon: This one went away for a while, then came back as singles instead of four-packs, a stocking decision that has been roundly rewarded. I had really forgotten how delicious this beer is, but it's been creeping back into my regular rotation. Hugely hopped in the stickiest way imaginable, yet somehow the other ingredients manage to hold up to the thick, oily onslaught. Pour it and be amazed to see such a seductive strawberry-blond syrup coming out of a can. Like the rest of Oskar Blues offerings, it's awful easy to drink for its alcohol content (8.7% ABV), so do take care. Those hop oils can also overwhelm whatever wanders across your tongue after them, so you might want to avoid putting this one down if you're planning on tasting anything more subtle afterward.
Lagunitas Ruben & the Jets: The latest in Lagunitas' Zappa tribute line, this one was... strange. I love me some Lagunitas IPA, and had really high hopes after the thoroughly satisfying "We're Only In It for the Money" tripel. Part of me wants to try Ruben again, while part of me thinks I'm better off just forgetting about the sensory confusion that came out of the bottle. Dark brown, really sweet, no evidence of the high alcohol content, no evidence of what style this is aiming for, exactly. If you're feeling adventurous, you could certainly do worse with four bucks, but if you're looking for something specific, you might not want to reach for the "BoppaDooAyDoo Style Ale." It's a limited release, so I really oughta give it another shot, but... strange.
Flying Dog Snake Dog IPA: Something about using Ralph Steadman artwork to sell beer bothers me more than it probably should, but apparently Hunter was pretty tight with the guy who founded this brewery, so I should stop it with the goddamn pinko sensitivity and embrace the bloody thrills of commerce. Branding aside, Snake Dog was a pleasant surprise. I picked it up at the convenient store purely on the basis of it being the most bang for my buck, but ended up enjoying it an awful lot. Surprisingly malty for an IPA, it's really got it's own thing going on. Another one that slides down a lot easier than it probably should, a characteristic that seems to be shared by all the beers I've been sampling while I haven't been writing. Hmmm.
Boulevard Irish Ale: The one I'm tossing back right now. This is the first Boulevard I've had since the Sixth Glass quadrupel from their "Smokestack Series" had its way with me. I have to admit, the difference between their higher end offering and this seasonal from their standard six-pack (or six-box, as it were) line is pretty clear; certainly no minds being blown here. That said, it's pretty tasty just the same, and the bottle conditioning seems to do quite a lot to reinforce a mildly sweet, summer-grass sort of flavor and malts vaguely reminiscent of New Belgium's recipes. Another one that goes down easy, but without the worrisome ABV. And here I am typing something! Imagine that.
BREAKS! Excuses, excuses.
Well, it has been a bit, hasn't it? It seems as though every time I warn you folks about my inconsistent output, I get that much less consistent. Figures.
Well, I have a couple piss-poor but entirely reasonable excuses. The laptop long held captive in my bedroom was not actually mine, but Shirene's, and as worthy a cause as granting me privacy with an internet connection may be, it certainly doesn't hold up next to donating a much-needed tool to the folks at Urban Roots. As a result, my typing time is now entirely dependent upon activity on and around the PC in the living room. Now, this is a piss-poor excuse because I usually blog from this spot anyway, but living room traffic has been pretty high lately, so I'm going to run with what I got. If anyone wants to drop a hot tip about local used Mac dealerships, I got my mitts on.
Excuse number two is much more reasonable, but equally worthy of an eye-roll: a Surly Cross Check is finally mine, and needless to say, I've been devoting a good chunk of my free time to breaking in that beautiful, beautiful machine. This excuse is made lamer by the fact that I haven't borrowed a camera to take some pictures of it to post in the ride report I know you're all not really waiting for. I'll make it up to you soon, but in case you're wondering in the meantime, it rides like this:
Sadly, the Cross Check fork lacks automatic weapon braze-ons.
Anyways, apologies for the slide. A couple shorter, lighter entries to come in the incredibly near future (tonight, even?) as a reward for your patience and giving of a damn.
Well, I have a couple piss-poor but entirely reasonable excuses. The laptop long held captive in my bedroom was not actually mine, but Shirene's, and as worthy a cause as granting me privacy with an internet connection may be, it certainly doesn't hold up next to donating a much-needed tool to the folks at Urban Roots. As a result, my typing time is now entirely dependent upon activity on and around the PC in the living room. Now, this is a piss-poor excuse because I usually blog from this spot anyway, but living room traffic has been pretty high lately, so I'm going to run with what I got. If anyone wants to drop a hot tip about local used Mac dealerships, I got my mitts on.
Excuse number two is much more reasonable, but equally worthy of an eye-roll: a Surly Cross Check is finally mine, and needless to say, I've been devoting a good chunk of my free time to breaking in that beautiful, beautiful machine. This excuse is made lamer by the fact that I haven't borrowed a camera to take some pictures of it to post in the ride report I know you're all not really waiting for. I'll make it up to you soon, but in case you're wondering in the meantime, it rides like this:
Sadly, the Cross Check fork lacks automatic weapon braze-ons.
Anyways, apologies for the slide. A couple shorter, lighter entries to come in the incredibly near future (tonight, even?) as a reward for your patience and giving of a damn.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
