An Advent Toast

An Advent Toast


There is a certain time of year
When children lean in close to hear
The gentle ebb and flow of life
(And we disdain the hectic strife
Of jobs, and money's cloying pull)
—To hear the swelling anthem, full
Of whispers of the Coming One.

Have you not heard? We're due a Son.
Of God and human flesh combined—
Not demigod, but Man, divine.
He came to answer Satan's cry:
“If there be God, why must you die?
And why, if he be ‘good’ and who
He says he is—'not old, not new',
But everlasting Holiness—
Then why allow this human mess?”

So Satan says, and Pavlov's son,
(The middle one) agrees: "He's done
A poor job in creating us,
And yet he still demands we trust—
This 'god' who hears the baby scream
In agony, when who would dream
Of letting one poor baby shed
One tear, and not give up his head
To save that child from pain?”

How now to give this God acclaim?
(Thus Dostoevsky poses it.)
“Perhaps eternal bliss might get
For us our long-sought recompence
From Life. Perhaps. But then from whence
Will we seek justice when our hope
That 'God is good' has interloped
With all our need that God be God?”

And thus it is that Christ has come
As as God enfleshed (and yet His Son)
To be Eternity concealed
In Mary’s womb: to be revealed
As Man of Man, and God of God.
And so His ancient feet have trod
The paths worn deep by weary men
Who trudge through misery and sin
And lift their heavy gaze to ask:
“Why then does God give me this task?
Who can endure this darkened world...”

— He answers, like a rose unfurled:
“I have not come to give you pat
And easy answers. More than that,
I’ve come to answer with my Blood
The chaos like a rushing flood:
I AM your God! And on the tree
I proved you have more worth to Me
Than pearls or coins—what metaphor
Will show you that I love you more
Than Life itself?”

A gentle pause.

And then He stoops from holding stars
To put his nail-rent hand in ours.
“It was not just the veil He tore
When on that rough-hewn tree I bore
Your wickedness. My heart was killed.
And though, in hopeful faith, I thrilled
That now at last the human race
Would have its only chance at grace,
Do not for any moment think
That I was not upon the brink.
Yes, I am God. But I am Man.
Indeed, no theologian can
Imagine what it is I did;
Some things from human eyes are hid.

“And no, I did not deign to give
To Dostoevsky, while he lived,
An answer to his deepest plight.
And even now, in heaven’s Light
He will not eagerly disclose
The simple answer that he knows.
‘Far better does it seem to me
To walk and talk with him and see
It written on his Face,’ he says,
'I could say more, but I'll say less.'"

And so, my friends, the time has come
To lift our Nog glass filled with rum;
To sing our merry songs and smile
(Perhaps He joins us for a while).
But let us with our Yule-tide mirth
Recall that God has walked the earth.
And while he walked he bore our pain;
He suffered, died and rose again,
That we might also die to sin,
To live eternally with Him.

Christmas, Anno Domini 2008.
 

Jedediah Compton

A short and factual account of the group ride I went on last weekend. My group took a wrong turn, and ended up going about ten miles and fifteen hundred feet of elevation farther than planned. On the way, we passed a kind old farmer, with a hidden hillside farm who pointed the way.  When we saw him, he was doing something strange with some strange instrument out in his field...

Securing Your Bike

In my storied career, I've had stolen 1 saddle, 1 rear wheel, 2 setes of lights, 1 bike-specific coffee mug (including an old latte), and 1 complete bicycle. Even writing this list makes me feel a little violated. But I write it to emphasize the reality of theft for the uninitiated.

Because of the above occurences, I've gained a healthy respect for the lowness of humans, and a bit of practical knowledge on locking stuff up. The basic gist: attach your frame to some immovable object, then attach securely to the frame the removeable bicycle stuff (at least the stuff that a.) you're attached to, and b.) could be of interest to some cad). If this were the entirety of the formula, there would be no need to write on the subject. However, there is a controlling variable: you generally have to carry your locking mechanism with you while you travel around. So, you can't just use a length of chain from the anchor line of an ocean-going vessel.
The optimum balance I've found:

.... In combination with:

This Kryptonite U-lock (the "Evolution Mini") falls under the category of Very Good Things. (Other examples: that perfectly fitting pair of jeans, that deep-gloss black paint on a 70's motorcycle tank, my perfectly aged 1970 Brooks B15 Special Narrow... you get the idea.) This u-lock is strong, small, relatively light—and opens and closes with a smooth, precise, satisfying action. I use it in tandem with the 4' plastic-enclosed steel cable. Kryptonite sells a 7' cable as well, but I just can't bring myself to buy one that long. If they made a 5' cable, I'd snap it up. Then I could secure both my wheels and my saddle. As it is, I have to choose between my rear wheel and my Brooks, and the Brooks obviously wins. Though I don't have a quick release rear wheel, I'm setting myself up to be a victim of my own Point 3, corollary i. below.
At any rate, the below diagrams illustrate how I attach everything. If you have agressive geometry, narrow (steel) tubing, and a relatively small-diameter post to attach to, you can enclose the front wheel, the frame, and the post within the u-lock. You could then protect both your saddle and your rear wheel with the four-footer.
Forgive the drawings; I had my assistant Lucas do them. He chose to use Microsoft Paint and a mouse. Poor fool; I pay him minimum wage, and he doesn't realize that with work like this, he'll never go anywhere.

Fig. 1.1

Fig 1.2

Before I leave the topic, a few parting shots:

1. If you travel to the same place(s) every day, it might be worth your proverbial while to leave a large u-lock in each of the locations. Then you'll never have to carry the five-pound beasts with you.

2. Some people will take off the various components on their bike-- wheels, saddle, etc.-- and lock them all into the u-lock. This is fine, and certainly secure. I've done it. But it's certainly more work than is saved by not carrying a good cable.

3. A primer in the Philosophy of Theft

a) If you like it even a little, there is somebody that would be willing to steal it.

b) You cannot apply statistical analysis to the prevention of theft: if there is "only a one-in-a-hundred chance that someone who would steal this bike would be walking by today", then your bike will be stolen. If it is physically possible to steal your bike, its theft is ineluctable. (Of course, this within parameters. It's always possible, on some level.)

Corollary i) The only factors you can use to determine if your bike is secure are physical. Exempli gratia: My bike was stolen between the hours of 11:00am and 1:00pm, in the middle of the busiest part of a busy campus, having been locked to a secure base with a thick cable lock. Principle: I left open the physical possibility of its being stolen by not using a good u-lock, and I relied upon human factors. "Well, nobody would try to steal it here, in the middle of the day..."

It was once reported of a certain prudent: "He needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man." You are wise to apply the same to your two-wheeled Beloved.

Bike Commuting Clothing Dilemma

The bike commuting clothing dilemma: there are no wrong answers. Well, I guess unless you so badly underestimate the weather, and the business hours of public transportation, that you are forced to call a cab at two in the morning to drive you home. That would certainly be a wrong answer. But I've never done that.

Nonetheless, I have learned a little bit during my time commuting by bicycle nearly every day through an Oregon winter. The meta-question of the bike clothing dilemma can be distilled to: "Should I wear bike stuff, or should I wear my normal clothing?" This post will not attempt to be exhaustive, but will help you ask yourself the right questions.

Some background. During my final year of college, I worked at the local branch of a nationally-recognized coffee shop company. I would work the four in the morning shift, and then head off to class for the day. I will let my astute readers do the math: to be at work by ten till four, I had to leave my house at about a quarter after three. Which meant that I was biking through some of the least pleasant hours of the winter.

When I first started this routine, I attempted to wear my work clothes with rain pants and jacket over the top. I soon learned that even on a 25 minute ride, my legs, clad in rubber, could generate a substantial amount of sweat. Additionally, if it was actually raining, the rain paints were a sopping mess when I finished the ride. I then had the issue of storing my wet, muddy pants somewhere—I certainly didn't want to put them in my bag—until my shift was over. I eventually solved the lower body problem by wearing a bike-tights/cargo shorts combination. I was surprised that in all but the strongest downpours, my legs and my shorts did not get overly wet.

After a few months of similar trial and error, I settled on the following metric for deciding what to wear/pack: The less distance/hills/load/dress code/etc. anticipated for the commute, the closer to normal clothing you can get. For example, I currently bike to work every day. And I also wear a suit every day. However, I bike approximately... 400 yards to work. So, my rating on the above metric is relatively low, and I'm able to simply wear the clothes I wear for work on my ride.

Let's take the inverse: Suppose we are riding fifteen miles each way to school, with a shift at the local eatery thrown in. In this case, we'd most likely want to wear something that is bike-specific for the ride, and pack our clothes. Now don't get me wrong, bike-specific does not necessarily mean spandex. Just wear what you’re comfortable in on the bike; pack the rest. This will avoid the problem of sweating into the clothes you’re going to wear all day.

When October rolls around, and you start commuting through weather that’s not typically considered bike-friendly, you will have to adjust your wardrobe. Of course the normal adages apply here: wear multiple thin layers as opposed to one big layer, so you can adjust your insulation as conditions and your body heat change. As I said above, I found that tights under shorts worked well for my lower half. They were flexible on the bike, and worked well in weather from 60 degrees down to about 25.

I never invested in a good warm had that would fit under my helmet. I ended up finding a solution that worked well for me. I would put the hood of the sweatshirt and/or rain jacket I was wearing up, and put my helmet over that. It not only kept my head warm, it kept my hood tightly in place where I wanted it. Hoods are prone to blowing off in the wind.

A few one-word mentions of things to be aware of: Bike shoes versus normal shoes, neoprene booties (get them), gloves, fenders (will be adressed elsewhere, but they are essential, and have something to do with clothing, i.e. keeping you dry), scarves or something else to keep your neck warm.

Before I leave the bike clothing topic for now, let me add this: It is a great joy to get where you are going under your own power, in bad weather, while remaining very comfortable. There were many times that I found myself cycling in thirty-five degree weather, with a light rain, at three-thirty in the morning—and realized how snug I felt, and how happy. It is one of those secret joys, which one knows will not be attempted by most people. One feels like the explorer who just came back from the wilderness to exclamations of “Oh my! But wasn’t it dangerous?” Of course any good explorer will accept the adulations and perpetuate the myth, but inwardly he chuckles: It was actually quite fun…

Let’s touch lightly on another question: What should I use to carry my stuff? The two basic answers here are 1) Some sort of bag that you wear, or 2) Some sort of container that hangs on your bike. For the year that I was biking considerable distances with a considerable load, I used a large messenger-style bag. It fit everything I needed, and it was completely waterproof. I don’t think this is a bad way to go, but I’ve recently begun using a rear rack to carry the smaller loads that I do now, and it is certainly nice to get the weight off my shoulders. The potential downside to racks and panniers (those bags that hang down on the sides of the bike) is that your load will not be as portable when you leave you bike behind. In some situations, this is not a big deal. In situations like mine, where I was hopping off my bike to go to class here, a coffee shop there, etc., it was certainly nice to have my things already in a carrying bag.

The bag topic brings to mind another crucial aspect of bike commuting: the staging area. It is a very good thing if you have a locker room, shower, and/or simply a good storage place at your destination. But more on this later…

Introducing the Bike Commuting Series

There has for a converging variety of reasons been increased interest in commuting and generally travelling by bicycle. As more and more of my friends are beginning to explore two-wheeled alternatives, they've asked me for the occasional piece of advice. Though not an expert, I've decided to begin a series within the Bikes topic of The Miscellanies on "Commuting and Basic Maintenance". My approach will be a very beginner-friendly one. There will be lots of pictures. My instructions will be appropriate to the level of the repair under discussion: "Changing a Flat" will have some tedium for experienced riders. "Adjusting your Bottom Bracket" will assume some basic knowledge, etc. Please leave a comment if there is any particular topic you would like to see addressed in a future post.

Raleigh Sprite, Day 5, or: 'Back on Track'

The frame is primed, but will be on hold for a bit awaiting: decals, final paint selection, buying some big plastic things to hang from the ceiling to prevent dust during application, etc... More details on the process later.

Why BBQ's were invented.

For pizza, naturally... 

We tried our first pizzas on the grill tonight. Excellent, and something we will be doing a lot more of.

Notes: I found some tips (too late) on the blogosphere that would have aided the grilling. The primary thing that I will remember next time is to lightly brown the topping-side (sans toppings, of course) before adding the toppings and beginning the grilling proper. This allows the crust to cook evenly through. Why? Although naturally it's quite hot inside the BBQ when it's closed, it is not true convection cooking. So the tendency is to get a burnt bottom before the thing is fully cooked. I somewhat mitigated this problem by putting the pizzas off to one side, with that burner off, and turning up the other burner to create a more generalized heat. However, in the future, I would not only follow the brown-then-flip suggestion, but would a) heat the grill up hot prior to placing the pizzas on the grate, and b) subsequently put the heat on medium low, and attempt to keep the lid closed for most of the cooking time. The problem is, I'm such a tinkerer while I'm cooking, it's hard not to continually open the lid and see how things are doing. Net effect: I might as well just cook over a campfire, because I'm getting only radiant heat from underneath the cooking surface.

After dinner, we had a great walk/bike ride/trailer ride/running stroller ride.

Raleigh Sprite Detour, or: 'A Short Study in Compromise'

There comes a time in every man's life when he realizes that the dreams of his youth will not be fulfilled...

For some, this juncture passes with little conscious notice. As the great Waters once put it:

Tired of lying in the sun
Staying home to watch the rain
But you are young and life is long
And there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find
Ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run;
You missed the starting gun.

In the realm of vintage bike restoration, compromise begins with a slight dread of finishing the sanding job to prepare the frame for paint. It deepens as one realizes that perhaps one purchased the wrong wheels on E-bay-- at a great price, but wrong nonetheless. Soon, effortlessly, the idea of 'settling' develops from being distasteful and demeaning to being 'the practical thing'. If one adopts a certain face-to-the-wind, stoical attitude, the acceptance of "life as it really is" becomes almost enobling. One imagines oneself growing old, having given up greater dreams in exchange for "the middle way". And perhaps one looks back, calmly and steady-eyed, at a life of solidity and function....

No, I tell you! No! Bike restoration is a romantic undertaking, one which calls forth every fibre of impracticality one posesses! There is risk; there is uncertainty; there is the possibility of failure. If not here, then when? Tell me! In what part of life may we put it on the line and shout, "I will live to the utmost of my ideals! I will put aside all duplicity and doubt: I will make this bike perfect, if it costs me my fortune and my life!"

[All that to say, I found a Raleigh--a heretical, 1979, not-made-in-England Raleigh, but still a Raleigh--that is perfectly functional for all of Meghan's current transportational needs. It was a great price on Craigs, so I grabbed it. It will serve as surrogate until I finish the True Article. Incidentally, it has an internal three-speed Sturmey-Archer hub, which both Megs and I really like. So I'll probably do some sort of internal hub for the '76 Raleigh.]

Anyway, the Raleigh Sprite will continue its journey to perfection, but Megs and I will be able to ride together in the interim. (Enjoy the cameo: a special treat for my readers. Both of you.)

Raleigh Sprite, Day 4: "Raleigh Proprietary Threading"

Verdict: Raleigh-specific threading.
Reaction: "I was born ready."


Man hours: 2ish
Project hours to-date: 7.5

Here's the gist of how it went down...


1. Raleigh is a very old bicycle company (118 years now, I think). Back when they started making bicycles, there really weren't standards for part-matching, etc. Also, Raleigh made all their own parts &mdash they didn't just make a frame and shop around for the component mix to put on the bike. The upshot*: they made stuff how they wanted, and everything worked together nicely. One of the particularities was: Raleigh bikes had 26 TPI (threads per inch) threading on their bottom brackets and their headsets. "Big whoop." I hear you say. Well, round about the 70's, things started getting more reg'ulurized. I don't know that there wasn't some sort of guvment innerference. Be that as it may, the "standard English threading", or "ISO" (which is different than Raleigh specific) became the standard threading, and it measured... wait.... 24 TPI. So, you can't screw normal, post-1975 parts into a "Raleigh-specific" bike. So, after weeks of anticipation, I finally had the opportunity (after removing the bottom bracket as described below) to measure the threads on the Sprite's bottom bracket and it is, in fact, Raleigh proprietary threading. There are workarounds to enable modern componetry on a Raleigh-specific bike, but I will outline those when the time comes.
* Odd word, this. Looking up now... OED says that it originated from an English term for the last shot taken in an archery match. Pretty early on it acquired its analogous meaning of 'the result or conclusion of something'. Which confirms my suspicion that archery is an unusually productive source of borrowings, as far as martial sports go.
2. The real triumph of the day was the removal of the bottom bracket retaining cup without the proper tools. In short: I used Sheldon's already jimmy-rigged method of screwing a bolt + washers through the spindle hole, and added to the mix some additional hackery. Sheldon's method: you stick a big bolt through, add some washer and a nut, tighten 'em down real good, and then you can use that friction grip to unscrew the cup. Well, after bloodying my hand again using Visegrips to no avail, I thought I'd give his method a try. The problem: I had no nuts or bolts. And... it had just crossed the magic threshold of 11pm when Fred Meyer closes. But wait... there in my top storage bin was that excrement of vintage bikes: a kickstand! I had removed it from the Sprite when I first started disassembling it. It was held on by a thick bolt. No nut though; the bolt just threaded directly into the kickstand housing. Which, incidentally, turned out perfectly as I had no second large wrench to use. I stacked up the washers, tightened the bolt and kickstand as much as I could, and gave it a go. Even with all that force, the large washers dispersed the pressure enough that they slipped and effectively hampered applying the torque to the bottom bracket cup. Final solution: super-gluing all the washers together, and then tightening the bolt even more. After letting it sit for a half hour, it finally caved. (Another factor: despite indications to the contrary by Sheldon and the LBS, the side I was working on was reverse threading.)
3. There is an imprint of a figure in robes in the middle of the spindle (close up photo). I think it's a code, and my spindle might be worth a very lot of money.

A sunny Friday bonus post.

There's a Beauty in Suburbia

There's a beauty in suburbia
Encapsulated in
The concrete dappled symmetry
Of rain-wet streets.

March is optimistic, raining
Clean, wet truths.
Glistening on buckled driveways:
Hope, faith, love.

(It was 1955, and they
And their dreams were young.)

Raleigh Sprite, Day 3

Man hours: 2
Hours to Date: 5.5
$0.00

Removing cottered cranks off of a 32 year old bike is no trivial matter.

I carefully read the venerable Sheldon Brown's instructions on the removal of cottered cranks. (Cottered cranks are an older style of crank that is secured to the crank spindle by means of a tapered metal dowel [cotter] that is wedged into a hole through the spindle and crank arm.) I was able to remove the cranks without much difficulty after rigging up a contraption of 2x4's and firewood to act as a support for the bottom bracket cup. Sheldon suggests using a length of pipe, but, having none at hand, I placed the firewood directly under the bottom of the cotter as I prepared to bludgeon it with my framing hammer. Since the firewood was relatively soft, it accepted the struck cotter to a depth of about a quarter inch—just enough to loosen its bonds and allow me to remove the wood and give the cotter a final smack to remove it.



Removing the cranks aided in my sanding, and I finished removing the majority of the paint from the planar surfaces. I will have to attack the smaller crevices by hand. I'm considering using aircraft stripper or somesuch, but I have a strange attachment to a.) the lining of my lungs and b.) my state of malignancy-free health. So we'll see. Regardless, I think I'm going to be ready to paint next weekend—the Saturday of which is supposed to be 80 degrees and sunny: perfect painting weather, and I have no lack of faith in Google weather.

In other news:
I have wrapped (after re-cabling/housing) the starboard handlebar on my Felt racing bike. For Michael A.'s sake, I must say that it is perfect. Without the aid of lowbrow electrician's tape, it emerges as it were by generation from the bar itself—like a carbon fiber vine sprouting at the perfect distal interval from the stem, and winding its sinuous way round the hoods and drops in loops too symmetrical to be of human origin.





Another notable achievement: I had my first official success BBQing chicken. I was grilling up some breasts to be sliced for chicken caesar salad, and they actually turned out great (I've been through some chicken fiascos in the past): 6 hours in a basic herb marinade, and then I added a healthy dose of Shiraz to the plastic bag and sloshed everything around. I basted the upward side with the marinade whilst they cooked.

Stay tuned for Saturday's birthday BBQ for Josiah, when I attempt a Jack Daniels/pepper/garlic salmon feast. I think the marinade is going to go something like:
1/2 Cup Jack Daniels
1/2 Olive oil
1/2 Brown sugar (packed)
Like, 1/4 cup chopped up garlic
Some good shakings of Tabasco. Smoked Tabasco if I remember to grab it.
One half of a lemon, all mashed up and squeezed out into the bag.
Lots of peppercorn
A bit of garlic salt
[Whatever else strike me while I'm putting stuff into the marinade bag... maybe some halved grapes? Maybe some sauteed mushrooms?]

So, marinade for about 2 or 3 hours (since it's fish), lie by the pool, toss the frisbee... and then heat the grill up to high for 10 minutes to get it nice and hot. Then about four minutes each side, basting with the marinade.

Dedication: for Mike Arzie, with much love.

This was not premeditated.

Exhibit A: Notes/doodles from a more positive phone conference.


We notice in this piece a representative sampling of some of the typical ingredients of a Watsonion phone-doodle from the Software Sales Period. Most notable is the repetitive-generative pattern emerging along bi-symmetrical lines. As the pattern reaches the extremities of its extension, the initial propogation becomes obscurred and the fractal devolves into chaos. One senses the Ego seeking order amidst the blind and inexorable forces to which it is subject.




Exhibit B, "Phone Conference in Which Frustrating Things Happen in Regard to Prospective Client P_______ M________" is an aberrent work in which the mathematical precision of a typical Watsonion is left behind in pursuit of sub-concious emotional primacy. Linear symmetry gives way to a radial-pointillistic style that draws the observer in while punctuating its hypnosis with bursts of angst. One commentator has described the donut-like shapes as "Naked eyes-- stretching to infinitude-- that simultaneously rage against Fate and petition it for mercy."

Untitled

This untitled poem was the first poem of my adult life. I had written a few previously, but they represent an earlier ethos. This poem is dense; the references and images move quickly from young adulthood through middle age and to death.

I wrote this while on a business trip to Roseburg for a grinding door to door sales job.

Untitled

"I'm looking for a Taco Bell."

"Yeah, I'm hungry-- looking into real estate."

Young Sampson sees and she

Looks good to me. Visions of
Sweet nectar gluttony--
and kings.

"I think I shall invest in land
And work the soil with my hand."

(Delilah is the magazine that
Keeps him from his grand designs,
From all that visionaries dream,
From all that he would wish to build.)
His oxen glutes just turn the wheel
His frozen heart forgets to feel.
Kansas and a tractor lease
Reflect in cyan irises.
A suit, a card, but not a sword;
A plastic plaque is his reward.

The news will tell with humid buzz
The measure of the man he was:
"He killed Hugh Hefner's son today.
In other news, the mayor's gay."

Raleigh Sprite, Day 2

Raleigh Restoration, Day 2

Man hours expended: about 1.

$0.00.

Project hours to-date: 3.5

I made some progress on sanding the frame.

Megs and I also talked about colours (she often visits me while I'm working in the garage-- if Jos is to bed and Wynn is in between feedings etc.) We're thinking a milky celeste green, but different enough from a Bianchi to make it different. It will probably veer toward the blue side of celeste. It will have a moderately wide Brooks in one of the darker, whiskey-hued brown leathers. It will be gorgeous. Those are the plans at any rate, should we live and et cetera.

I also installed a stem riser on my Felt road bike, making it fit me and making it look kind of dumb.

Raleigh Sprite, Day 1

~1970 Mixte Raleigh Sprite Restoration, Day One:

Approximately 2.5 man hours, not including strolling around Fred Meyer looking for tools and buying Dr. Pepper and Hostess chocolate mini-donuts.

Total project hours to-date: 2.5

At this point, the bike is disassembled minus the crankset, bottom bracket, and headset. I had to get a few tools to further the cause. I found a great paint stripping attachment for a drill chuck, which I tested out on the downtube.

Challenges today: getting the chainring bolts off. They were very soft and the corners got chewed up with the slightest force. I managed to get two of them out, but the third precipitated my buying the Vise Grip, with which I was able to get a sufficient purchase on the bolt to remove it. Another difficulty is/will be the cottered cranks. I gave it a gentle go with the method I've seen on the blogosphere, but nothing happened (other than some dents in the cotter head.) So... I'm going to have to use the escalating severities described by Sheldon Brown on "Retro Raleighs".

Incidentally, on my Mac at home I can't format my posts very cleanly; thus the pictures not lined up, the text all over the place, etc. etc. Not a big deal, but I'm an obsessive formatter/fontist/layout perfectionist. Oh well for me.

1976 Raleigh Sprite

Last night, Megs and I acquired a ~1976 Raleigh Sprite mixte. For free.

The catch of course was that the rear wheel is destroyed, and there is a lot of rust on various components (not the frame, though, as far as I can tell.) I've been looking for a 70's mixte Raleigh to fix up for Megs, and this one will be perfect. It even comes with an authentic vinyl Brooks saddle.

Now every bike has it's own persona-- or soul, if you will-- and it is crucial that one chooses a bike that is compatible with oneself. If this bike had spent its formative years in a local backyard, rusting away its young life in the company of Camaros and pit bulls, I might be concerned that it wasn't a match for Meghan (an adventurous but always classy gal). Don't get me wrong; a restoration of the frame described above would be just as beautiful, but it might be more comfortable 'neath a slightly bigger-boned biker gal who would ride it to and fro' the local mini mart carrying 'packs of PBR in bags slung from the handlebars. Just saying.

However, such was not the youth of the Sprite that we rescued. This bike was lovingly used, and by that most bikeish of humans: the Portlander. It met its untimely demise in a most fitting way. The previous owner had taken the bike to Burning Man, and on the dirve back, in the middle of the lonely Arizona desert, the bike fell off the back of the car.

I like to think that Megs is the kind of gal that (if she didn't have other reasons not to) would be a carefree hippy with a bike on the back of her 1989 Toyota Corolla driving to Burning Man. Except something better than Burning Man. But some big gathering in the middle of the desert.

The bike had plastic flowers in the spokes.

So anyway, I will be resurrecting this bike. My methods are more Matrix-like then messianic. It will be a long process, with many of the parts spending time soaking in various chemicals. Then, like Neo, the bike will slowly awake to the world. First it will see "men walking about as if they were trees"... and then it will hear a voice...

Genesseret

Writhing fish of speckled face talked excitedly:
“The one of whom our fathers spoke has come
again to visit us—he who hovered on the Surface
and we jumped for joy.” Forgotten memories of a
blind happiness, when our cold blood was warmed
and we felt our scales tingle.

“Come now, brothers! Come; let us fly to his net!
Ecstatically let us jump above the waterless plane, always
Careful to stay within the rope-chains!”

On the dappling surface shines a face, a face
Brown as trout, furiously bright as the swordfish,
Fiercer than the shark, and older and kinder than
The grandfather blue whale.

And the turbid waters calm
And the silent silver arrows
Forget that they are more than fish.

The Precursor

"εγω ειμι ο αρτος ο ζων ο εκ του ουρανου καταβας ..."
The Gospel of St. John, vi. 51


Dusty bearded bodies: a million
Lied down hot and are waking cold.

It is still. Further east, enthroned
On the horizon waits the god.

Black tents like barnacles

Hold huddled sleeping patriarchies.
And the mothers crawl out
Quietly with skins to fetch the water.

High above the warming sand, arcing westward with the dawn,
Stately, yet he hurries: god descending to the dust.
He passes over waking hills that glow in recognition.

The adolescent Dawn takes notice, chasing with her playful gait.
Molten rays of golden fury: Light itself bends nearer
Lending contours to his back as it ripples with exertion.

Holy sweat, over broad scapulae running rivulets down his spine,
Glances off square gluteals, convex hamstrings, 
Freezes in the spheric sky.

Dawn catches him. He shouts
Joy and Triumph! He dissolves.
Diffused upon the desert floor
He feeds a million dusty throats.