Today on the Tandem

Aly and I dressed for work and rode the 1970 Schwinn Twin tandem to work this morning - instead of our usual commute, which involves us each with our own bicycle.

There was a mix of laughs, confusion and head shaking from onlookers.

Not to say I blame the head shakers.  Mixing in with rush hour traffic on Hennepin with a 9 foot bike gets somewhat ridiculous.

Do tandems do more to save the environment than two typical bicycles?

Regardless, that's what I shouted to those onlookers.  However, my cred was shot because the shouts were from the back seat.  Aly was driving.

Birth Right

Fellow cyclists,

A friendly reminder:

Spandex is an earned right, not an inherent one.

TOMRV

Chugged back to the Quad Cities last weekend to do a bike tour - Tour of the Mississippi River Valley - with my dad and brother.

Rolled into town at 2:00 a.m. and up at 6:00 in the pouring down rain. In wet wind, we scooted a 120 miles north to Dubuque, IA. This set my new personal daily total milage record on a bike.

Setting a another personal record, breaking my previous attempt of zero, I had the reluctant pleasure of riding a bicycle with speeding automobiles on an open 4-lane divided highway. Three times.

I'll be the first one to tell you that I do not make smart choices on a bicycle. But what I witnessed on this trip made me look like a bicycling honor student.

The first time riding on a 4-lane, while biking down the on ramp, the 50 year old guy I was riding with yelled over, "Whatever you do, DON'T ride on the sholder!" I proceeded to watch him merge with 60 mile an hour traffic and pedal down the middle of the right hand lane. Like he was off to the market and this was just a typical thing for truckers to see on the interstate.

I was so freaked that I shoved it to the sholder and rode a half mile on speed buzers while trucks and SUVs came close enough to spit gravel against my shins.

Arriving at the overnight location, I drank three beers while watching old, white men dance to a Jimmy Buffett cover band. Two hours later, I was asleep with a half a Clif Bar in my hand.

The next day faired better with weather and miles. We took the shorter route, ending in Preston, IA. Although we caught the sag wagon the last bit of the ride, we put down around 175 - 185 total miles - not a bad outing.

Ines Brunn

Wow.

All the To Do

Andrew was in town the past week interviewing for jobs, as he is moving back to the City of Lakes. In a word, I could say Minneapolis crew is "excited," but don't think it would account for the foaming at the lips, jittery anticipation, that everyone is physically displaying.
We, along with the usual suspects, spent much of the time biking, drinking beer and scheming plans to combine the two in a way to make a million dollars.

In the spirit of him moving back at the onset of summer, we participated in one of my favorite exercises - list making.
On a cocktail napkin titled, "2009 Summer To Do's," we listed out everything that needs to be accomplished by the Autumnal Equinox.

I assumed this went M.I.A. around 11:00 p.m. To my surprise, the following email turned up in my inbox today.

The list, and the additional reasons I will love this city this summer:

Renovo Bicycles

I remember reading a review for a Renovo bicycle this past fall in Men's Journal.

This was around the time I put it in my head I wanted wood accents for my fixed gear and was completely blown away by such a supremely engineered piece of wood.

I cruised the site for info, made my first attempt at wood handle bars and have since tried to figure out a cost-effective way to make functional parts.

While we were in Portland last month, Team Motts emerged from Roots Organic Brewing Company around dinnertime to come face to face with a middle aged guy with an insanely unique bike.

The guy happened to be Ken Wheeler, owner and brain trust, of Renovo Hardwood Bicycles and the bike happened to be one of his own:



No doubt, the pint of beer had something to do with our wonderment but seeing a piece of maple wood fashioned into an everyday pony-whip has a way of making your jaw drop.

Check out Renovo's website.

Ken has put up some interesting information and even more interesting bicycles.

Artcrank 2009

The Artcrank poster show at One on One Bicycle Studio, was nothing short of amazing.

Aly and I came home in beautiful rain with a handful of posters, like the two below.





There are few things better than bicycles, beer and local artists. Tie them together, and that was our Saturday night.

Smokin' Busy

I wanted to share this with you because it makes me happy. Stepping back to the days when cigarettes made you better at everything.

Cyclists, and the broader public, used to see cigarettes as miracle sticks.

Look younger!

Be cool!

Lose weight!

Messages and beliefs, I can only assume, created and reinforced by ancestors of my industry - advertising.

In the case above, cyclists believed smoking opened up their lungs. Which would result in more oxygen intake. Which would result in more energy to your muscles. Which would result in a faster, stronger rider.

It actually resulted in polluted lungs. Which resulted in killing blood vessels. Which resluted in hightened cases of emphysema. Which resulted in heightened number of deaths.

Eh. C'est la vie.

A Portland Fix

Fixed gears on the streets of Portland are required to equip thier bike with either a hand brake (hell no) or a, wait for it, stick (hell yes).

Check out the bike-folk having a stick-stopping competition:

A Bike Tale: Intermission Part Deux

A ride with Team Motts, in still.

Click here to enjoy some fresh apple juice.

A ride with Team Motts, in motion.

Click the, well, the sideways triangle thing:

Portland, you are a beautiful thing.

A Bike Tale: Intermission

Catch up to the story here and then here.


Le Tour de Portland (The Tour of Portland)

Entracte (Intermission)


Courtesy of The Lips, photos.


Courtesy of The Voice of Reason, Team Mott's next four trips.


Courtesy of Team Mott's, the best way to spend a Saturday.


For the sanity of pedal energy:

A Bike Tale: Part II

Le Tour de Portland (The Tour of Portland)

Mars 5 (March 5)

Une jours (Day 1)

The Grand Depart Minneapolis

The Dreamer, The Lover and The Voice of Reason began their journey in the majestic Humphrey Terminal.

At O'Kelley's. With Guinness's. And grins.

An elated bar tab carried positively onto an delayed airline flight. So much so, in fact, the boys' social commentary earned a round of beers from the Nestle salesman seated in the row ahead.

The stewardess doted upon team the team with the curiosity of a brood hen hatching another species.

Mott's was established as team sponsor mid-flight after The Dreamer declared to the fuselage, "I got the Mott's" and a round was distributed.

Henceforth, team MVP is awarded the iconic room temperature apple juice.  Like Gatorade on the football coach or chugging milk at the racetrack.

Only less appetizing.

Arrive Portland, OR (Arrive Portland, OR)

How do you fit Team Motts, six bags and one snowboard into a wagon?

Head to the gas station and buy the following:

1. 6 6-packs of local beer


2. Lolly-pops


3. Cigarettes


4. A framed poster of Al Pacino, Scarface incognito

What went to the airport as an A4, returned home as an A6.

CJ Dirt (formally Colin J. Lebens), The Smoker, accompanied the team to home base, in NW Portland city where bags were unfurled and toasts were had.

The night progressed to Gypsy Restaurant and Velvet Lounge.

It had karaoke.

Zim, The Lover, sang this:

Except, he sounded like this:

..and looked similar.

Our first meal of Day 2, Friday, took place at 3:00 in the morning at an all night diner called Roxy.

Five of us ordered a delicacy called the "Heart Attack Platter."  Issac's pancakes were made fun, but The Voice of Reason has the last laugh in the morning.

All six ordered, not a mug of coffee, but a carafe.  A piece.

The theme of the weekend was established that night as "overkill."

Stage winner:  Issac, The Voice of Reason.

Stage loser:  Passengers on flight 596

A Bike Tale: Part I

As it is, looking back as it was, the best 72 hours of our lives...

Introducing the peloton:

Team Motts

CJ Dirt: The Smoker (Captain)

Andrew: The Lips (Lieutenant)

Freddy: The Drinker (Domestique)

Zim: The Lover (Time Trialist)

Issac: The Voice of Reason (Climbing Specialist)

John: The Dreamer (Sprinter)

Standings will be updated daily.

B. Ike, P. Town

Ten hour countdown until the two-wheeled ponies are cut loose in Portland.

I'm back Sunday, in time for Funday Monday - which includes images, videos and storytelling.

-Dreamer

Bike Portland

Life is better on a bike.

Everything is booked.

I, along with four of my closest bike nerds, am flying out to Portland, Oregon, for three days of two-wheeled pony rides.

We are picking up our bike of choice at a local bike shop and embarking on epic rides to Mount Hood, Tabor and Helen, respectively.

Things that I'm excited about, by the numbers:

28 microbreweries

15 trail recommendations from local bike shop owners

7 speciality bike shops

5 cyclocross bikes

3 mountains

1 "?European Style?" hotel room

The pieces are coming together nicely.

Das Bus

Hello.

My name is John.

Today marks the fifth consecutive week that I haven't ridden a bicycle.

I may lose it and need you to talk me down from the ledge.

It's not just not riding my bike that's driving me crazy. It's that in combination with hemorrhaging public transportation.

Before I dive into this, kudos where kudos are due:

The past two mornings have found Aly and me, coffee and gym bags in hand, running for the bus stop. Two grown people, chugging down the street, running for a bus.

Also these last two mornings the bus has begun to pull away from the curb, stop in the middle of the intersection and let us hop on.

The same elderly woman has been behind the wheel and on both occasions and has welcomed us on board with smiles as well as provided play by play commentary of each stop, our current on-time status and tips on how to retrieve lost mittens.

Not an unpleasant way to start you day. However, I tell you that to tell you this.

There has also been mornings we have stood at the same bus stop for 20 minutes in negative temperatures, to come on board in a suit and tie and sit next to a young chap who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to take a swig out of a brown bottle and hock a loogie against a handrail.

Either way, I miss my bike.

The one perk that public transportation does afford is unparalled people watching. One of, if not my top, hobby.

The Minneapolis busses are laid out with sideways facing seats in the front and in the back of the bus. The middle of the bus hosts forward facing seats, two to a side, and one row of forward facing seats across the back of the bus.

Anyone who rides the bus could probably attest to the unspoken, but understood, prefered seating locations on the bus. The sideways seats are always last to be filled due to the awkward eye-contact avoidance game you're forced to play once someone sits across from you - with the one exception of the seat directly next to the door, which is usually occupied by an elderly grandma and her walker.

The forward facing middle section isn't bad - but your still forced to deal with the semi-awkward, stranger touching my leg, situation. This gets especially hairy during the winter, when everyone has forced themselves into multi-layer poofy jackets, which easily spill into the personal space boundry.

The most coveted seats on the bus are the forward facing seats, wedged into the back corner. You are first class indeed enjoying more leg room than the peasants in the middle of the bus, a slightly more reclined seat and the fact you are wedged into a position that ensures your interaction with other people will be kept to a bare minimum.

Last Thursday I was riding the bus home, and found myself enjoying such a seat.

The stop after I board downtown is busy, and typically fills the bus quickly. Another twenty-something male boarded and sat next down next to me.

He was on the phone. This didn't bother me as much as the fact that he was wearing womens boots. Due to the number of riders causing personal space infraction, it was all I could do not to overhear his phone conversation.

"Hi Boo. Yeah, I'm on das bus. Yeah, I'm on my way home, I'm right by the Walker."

What made me raise an eyebrow was we weren't by the Walker. Not even close. We were in the direct middle of downtown. True, the bus we were on eventually rounded the corner by Loring Park and passed by the Walker, but that was a good 10 - 15 minutes from where we were located.

I gave him the benefit of the doubt. When I'm running late, and I've told Aly I'd be somewhere - I tend to exend my location a bit. He went on,

"Yeah boo. I'm getting off das bus right now. Well, I got to go - I don't my hand to freeze in the cold."

He had literally just sat down. Unless he was planning on walking to the Walker, which was suspect to being his final destination anyway, he didn't seem to be in a rush to get off the bus. He had is phone out and was running text messages as fast as his keypad could keep up.

15 minutes or so later we were cruising past the Walker and he gets out his phone. In a much different tone, he muttered,

"Yeah homie, I'm here. Okay? Okay! Good, good. Right. Okay."

In front of the Blockbuster, he slams his phone shut and jumps off the bus right before the doors close.

This was a fairly uneventful interaction between he and I. However, I found the whole vibe so strange, I put my book away and thought about it the rest of the ride home.

Undercover agent? Prostitute on the side? What the hell was this guy up to?

I landed at my bus stop before I could deduct a legitamite answer to that question. As I got up, with a perplexed look on my face, I caught eyes with a guy in lowly side seat.

I could immediately tell we were both thinking the same thing. As I rose from my seat, he made a vauge pointing jesture and mouthed to me,

"What the hell was that?"

Wood Handle Bars Part II

Follow up entry to my post earlier this week on the recently completed wood handle bars for my fixed gear bike.

As promised, photos: 

My next project is inspiration from Fast Boy Fenders.  I'll let you know when I get this started.

Also, I'm slowly realizing that posting photos of bicycle handle bars makes me a huge nerd.

I'm strangely okay with it.

Thanks for understanding.

Wood Handle Bars

They are finished.

My first attempt at customized wood bicycle handle bars.  The final clear coat is currently drying and I've never wanted to beat my chest in manly type fashion more than I do right now.

What's better than riding a bike without brakes through the streets of Minneapolis?

Riding a bike without brakes with wood handle bars.  As if the brakeless excitement in itself wasn't enough - factor in handle bars that may splinter into a thousand pieces at moment.

Simple and fantastic.

Curious what wood bicycle handle bars looks like?  Check out WoodHandleBar.com.  Ken Carroll just launched this website and was a big help emailing a few starter tips.

I'll get some some pictures up once I have them attached to the bike.

Go ride.

Big Gingers

We were bred as Americans to think that the apple hitting us on the head moment is to come sitting at a bar stool.

Not to say there is anything wrong with drinking and ideation - only that's the fall back expectation as to what we think should be happening in order to have that great idea.

I dream of my big business idea happening at a bar.  There's something romantic about the idea of opening the "Who We Are" page on your company website with "It all started with a pen and a cocktail napkin and a Corona.."

Or, standing in front of a thousand people as a keynote speaker stating, "The trick is (enter regurgitated corporate quote).  Now, let's go get a beer - first round is on me."

My latest moment happened Saturday night.

I was at a friend's birthday party at The Local in downtown Minneapolis.  The nostalgic Irish pub serves three things, in no particular order, Guinness, Jameson Whiskey and Fish.

Fueled by two of the three, Freddy, Zim and I began talking about Zim's latest fixed gear bike quest (pic to come as soon as the back brake is uninstalled - in true manly bike fashion).

We had an epiphany for a bike business.*

As the beer fueled innovation escalated, the idea spiraled into a mega-business.  The course of discussion when like this.

John: I'm telling you, this is what we need to pull together.  People would pay for this.  We just need a shop to get this started

Freddy: What kind of shop?

John: A bike shop?  Aren't you following along.

Freddy: I don't get it.

Zim: Shut your face!

John: How does it not make any sense?  This is genius!

Zim: YYewwwEAh!

Freddy: Ok, you're right.  Can the place also be a bar?

John: I don't see why not.

Freddy: Can I bartend?

John: No.  Well....Okay.

Zim: What else can we add?

Freddy: How about a gym mat in the basement?  You can just prowl around down there and squelch at patrons.

Zim: YYewwwEAh!

John: We need a sign.

Freddy: Like a real one?

Zim: Why the hell not?!?!

John: Let's put a sign above the men's room.

Zim: What's it say?

John: "Zim's Gym"

Freddy: That would have to go above the women's room.

Zim: YYewwwEAh!

The conversation ended with arm wrestling.

There aren't many pearls in this post.  Only, I'll probably avoid liquor when I put together my business proposal.

*I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. 

The Varsity

Bomb-proof Schwinn Varsity

It's finished - my second fixie.  Deep V Velocity rims, profile bar ends and sawed down handle bar.  Wanted to keep as many original parts as possible.

Look for it on the streets of Minneapolis.