Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Wonderful Wool



Recently, Cycle Jerk did a post on Spandex vs. Wool. That made me think of the above article (click for big) which appeared in the 1992 Bridgestone catalog.

We year-round cyclists should be wearing wool right about now. So far, I've only had need for wool socks on some chilly mornings, and lightweight nylon shells. We had a mild (and rainy) November, and December is even more mild so far. According to the forecasters, we could be in the 60's (Fahrenheit) tomorrow.

Bring on the cold! Bring on the snow! I have the gear and I am ready.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Missing Håmmers


We followed the tracks up the slope and across the bleak plateau, but there was no sign of Håmmer.

“Are you positive that these are his tracks?” I asked Knud.

“Their tracks.”

Their tracks?”

Knud glared at me. If there was one thing I had learned in my short time with the Norwegian, it was that he hated to have to repeat himself.

“There were two of them,” Knud said. “They looked identical.”

“Two Håmmers?”

Another glare. Still, I couldn't help but wonder whether his witnesses were reliable, or even awake.

An hour earlier, when I had approached the detective back at the Håmmerfest police station and asked whether anyone had seen Håmmer, the detective furrowed his brows and studied me for a long time. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Hva heter han?”

“Håmmer.”

As it turned out, there were many town legends about Håmmer. And quite a few sightings. The most recent one had been seen just outside of town.

“They looked identical?” I asked.

Another grunt.

As we trudged up the slope together, I tried to engage Knud in small talk - topics that I thought would be of mutual interest: beer, bicycles, Danish women’s handball. He just muttered in Norsk.

“Regnbuen har mange farger.”

“Ja,” I replied. That is the only word I know in Norsk.

Then the Håmmer tracks came to an abrupt end.



How could Håmmer just vanish like that? I wanted to ask Knud, but I was afraid of his answer. Instead I asked whether the Håmmers could have climbed a tree. I could not think of any other explanation for the disappearing tracks. But Knud shook his head, pointing to a sign.



“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t notice that. And it's even in English.”

Then, barely visible in the snow, I saw it: A small gray trinket.

I picked it up, dusting off the grains of snow. Then I held it out in my palm, so Knud could see. It was a small plastic compass. The needle was spinning wildly, round and round, clockwise, then suddenly counter-clockwise, then clockwise again.

“What do you make of it?” I asked Knud.

“Hmmm... let's go back to my office,” Knud said. “I want you to listen to something.”

***

In his office, Knud lit a cigarette and pulled out an old, taped-up cassette player. He slid in a tape labeled: “lost radio transmission.”

“The Håmmers...” he started. “They speak of the compass. And the witch.”

“The witch?”

He glared at me again. Then he hit play.

Immediately, this barely audible snippet of conversation followed:

Voice1: This?! This looks like some piece of crap compass you got a yard sale for 50 cents!

Voice2: Trust me - this is no ordinary compass. I got it on the other side from the witch. This compass has some serious juju. You’ll need it later.”

Voice1: “What for?”

Voice2: “The real ending. The surprise one I told you about last year. This blog will end with a journey - a journey that begins with this compass.”

Voice1: “And how does the journey end?”

Voice2: “It ends with a four-letter word. More than that I really can’t say.”

Voice1: “Hmm. Well, alright then. Thanks I guess.”


There was a high pitched noise, followed by static. Knud popped out the cassette.

“Do you know what the four letter word is?” I asked. “Was it a profanity?”

“No -- luck.” Knud said.

“No luck,” I repeated. I had hit another dead end.

Knud just glared. Then he showed me the way out.

The search for Håmmer continues. If you find any clues, please drop me a line.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Freewheeling Roundup

"Excuse me, Mr. President -- there are some elegantly dressed bicyclists here to see you." Or you write the caption. Photo by Freewheeling Spirit.

Dandies & Quaintrelles: The Tweed Ride organizers commend riders on "an impressive and outstanding display of refined behavior; style and grace was demonstrated through the duration of the day – from registration to our post-ride social."

Random Duck: Getting Tweedy.

I am a Lefty: Tallyho!

Readysetdc: DC Tweed Ride video.

DC City Fix: Less cars, more bicycles; less lycra, more tweed!

Cycle Jerk: Spandex vs. Wool.

Bikesnob NYC: The Need for Tweed.

Bikes For The Rest Of Us: A dandy new line of bikes from Electra.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

D.C. Tweed Ride Photos

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Flickr: Lots more pics .

youtube: video by philip in dc

WaPo: Style article


A big thank you to the brilliant organizers!

Friday, November 13, 2009

Freewheeling Roundup


Dapper participants in San Francisco's tweed ride. Photo by Dustinj via Flickr.

Throwing Hammers: Farewell, Hammer.

Church of the Sweet Ride: A family bike ride on single track trails.

Planetary Gears: Why we should all be stockpiling Surly LHTs.

Yours For Good Fermentables: Vegetarian beer dinner.

Free Spit: Behind the sophomoric name is some sophisticated tweeting.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Freewheeling Spirit on Twitter


"Freewheeling Spirit" was too long for a username on Twitter, so I had to go with the shortened version: FreeSpit.

A Curious New Movement

Tintype photograph by David Sokosh for the NY Times.

A fashion article in yesterday's New York Times mentioned the upcoming D.C. Tweed Ride and featured a short interview with the man behind the ride, Eric Brewer. Here's an excerpt:

This flamboyance is part of a curious new movement called Tweed Rides, informal gatherings of spiffily dressed ladies and gents cycling leisurely through town and disdaining finish lines. Tweed Rides began in London earlier this year and have spread this fall to Boston, San Francisco and Chicago. As the directions for this weekend's Tweed Ride in Washington, D.C., put it: "Leave the fleece, Lycra and outer shell at home. This ride is for the dandy."


I see this as another branch growing from the slow movement tree. Or perhaps it's a limb sprouting off the slow bicycle movement branch of the slow movement tree. Maybe a tree is not the best analogy, given that the slow movement is spreading like wildfire.

But back to tweed. I've never considered myself a tweed guy. The Times advises that "the look works only if you don't go too far." I guess I have until Sunday to consider my options.

Sunday, November 08, 2009

Tweed Ride

The details are here.