Monday, November 21, 2011
Friday, October 8, 2010
That word inspired me to adapt The Rifleman's Creed as such:
This is my drive train. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My drive train is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. My drive train, without me, is useless. Without my drive train, I am useless. I must shift my drive train true. I must shift more crisply than my enemy who is trying to outsprint me. I must pass him before he passes me. I will...
My drive train and myself know that what counts in this war is not the attacks we make, the noise of our burst, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the podium that counts. We will win...
My drive train is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its derailleurs and its cables. I will ever guard it against the ravages of weather and damage as I will ever guard my legs, my arms, my eyes and my heart against damage. I will keep my drive train clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will...
Before God, I swear this creed. My drive train and myself are the defenders of my team. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life. So be it, until victory is ours and there is no enemy, but peace!
Keep fighting the good fight, all.
Friday, June 4, 2010
I'm the guy riding southbound in the Kedzie bike lane, right towards you. You're completely not paying attention, yelling something to someone across the street. Situational awareness? What's that? (psst, they don't sell that at Hollister.)
Whoa, I'm closer now since you're standing still, in the bike lane, and I'm still riding. You step forward. Progress, I like it.
You step back into the bike lane. Shit - make up your mind.
I'm closer now, about 20 feet. You FINALLY look to your left, and you take a step forward, where you freeze like a deer in headlights...that's standing in the middle of the bike lane.
Knowing there's someone behind me, I manage to scream "UP UP!" and dive to the right, hoping my friend follows my lead. Unfortunately, he doesn't have time to react.
You two collide. I don't see it, but I hear the unmistakable sound. Stop the bike, look back to see a pile of humanity and bike. No good.
Everyone's shaken, stirred, and scraped up but no bones are broken. Your dad calls upon deities in various languages, yells at you. Apologizes to us, tells you to apologize to us. You're crying, but manage to get the words out.
Accepted, on one condition: Next time, DON'T STAND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO TRAFFIC.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010