Meat and Potatos

I try not to eat meat, or the flesh of living creatures things. 
its just a simple idea, that it comes from, I love animals.
like racing, they all participate, fight  and compete in this world, contribute to it, and want to stay alive
and enjoy the sun, lounging, maybe a laugh,
feel the same wind, cold, rain
protecting their young
I don't have the heart to take that away from them

I ride the same hills more than I seek out new ones
my house,  the old neighborhood, its built into short rolling hills
and each hill has its own grade, punch, calmness,

I ride out, and like looking at a menu, what am I in the mood for?
working, toiling, punch the gut, kick in the balls, just suffer
constant smooth grade up

I don't travel for work much, but am on a job, the last couple of days down in Atlanta
then Chicago, Dallas, San Francisco
good fun gig, for sure, and is full of interesting work, and goodfriendship ...

sometimes, I hit the gym early, or run the steps of a tall hotel
and miss my bike

I like these water crossing, and this year, waiting for them to be opened,  they are closed for the winter, symbolically announce the start of green, warmer weather

I ride into the water, one foot unclipped up in the air, the other a few ratchet pedals and across the stream we roll.

its what my diet needs,  I try to do right by me.
so tonight I'll sit on the porch, kill this wee little 1/2 growler, easy. 
pack and shit.
sneak in an am ride tomorrow.
maybe a bit of bourbon
and it all seems to make me sleep well
a bit a poetry before I reach over and twist the knob to shut off the light
laying my head back with a bit of a buzz, and the windows are open



chuck taylor

what to look at, you know
to focus on,

what are the results you want?
I just love riding the bike, by far I am not the best tactical racer.
Which is strange to me, cause I love the nuisance of the pack
No one fears the fool.
I don't.

 For years, he drove a white Cadillac across the country with a trunk full of shoes, living in motels, and with only a locker in the company's Chicago warehouse as a permanent residence

Charles Hollis "Chuck" Taylor musta been one bad ass salesman.
can't imagine. 

so I did some racing, then out to see Orange Goblin,  I saw them a bit ago, there were great.
What happens when you play 100's of shows?
How do you keep it like the early days, sexy?
I don't know, they were good
not on the podium

its 12'30, so you'd think I'd be asleep.




I saw Bob Dylan play the other night, up in Lehigh
in the university's arena.
a smaller place,  just chairs set out in rows and chalk numbers at the end of the rows so I could find where you sat.

on the bike I'm starting to get it down,  I want to ride invisible in the pack.
so I pay very close attention to where my bike sits to hold onto a wheel
or when I can slip through some gaps and move up a bit
I don't want anybody to notice me
just moving along, riding.

I watched Dylan play, sometime it was a nod, sometimes he'd point back and the song change, end, move on, pick up.  it never fell apart, just chugged along,  making it work.

I've been using that a bit on the drives, just a hand in the drops, coming by someone you know, who rides with their eyes open, and I'll just open my hand and the fingers flash a bit
a slight response, a nod, and I slip back into the line.
you see a rider on the front, working into the wind
and as they come back to you,  I block the young bloke a bit off his wheel.
and let him slip infront of me into the line moving back up to take a pull again.

I'm glad that Dylan has vaporized to me, that I'm into him.
at the end of playing, he walked to the center of the stage and stood
a confident man, performer, the band a step behind
and gazed out across the audience,
10-15 seconds
I am Dylan.
the lights came down and the old man left.

I was lazy and tired today, so just tooled about.     Found some city stables, stopped a bit to look at the horses.     Told them I wanted some good legs tomorrow for the crit.  
I love how horses smell, I love there hair.   gotta go back and take some pictures,
meet them.    I guess I'll just knock on the door and introduce myself.

cheer, my friends. dlowe.



I had luck today, my location was the Horticultural Society plot of land.  
over by the Japanese House.

steve earle - "remember me"

I'm reading the Kinski book, just a few pages at a time
savoring it.
Its vulgar, degenerately written, no whim for decorum, starved n' over enhanced life, I'm loving it.
In fact a few pages at a time, its enough.

I've also started in on dark coco bars, 82%.

at lunch, I had a sandwich, blueberries, strawberries and a coke, I  was able to take some pictures, and read a few more pages.
hard to go back to life, on the clock,   sometimes.

tomorrow work, and then I hope to make it up to see Bob Dylan,
fell in with him during my stay and time in Louisville.
so I got a ticket a while ago, and now the shows tomorrow night.

the Drives ride has been good, well I've got a bit this year, its fun being the old bloke
holding onto a wheel,
and running out of gears in the sprint.

a good spring.

cheers, d.

might sound, vulgar, in english,  its  spring, indulge ... go fuck



the ss mtbike, its a Ponce de León, I am ageless, agile,
flesh, bone, muscle
the chain groans
sidi's crest and
circle again
and slowly crest and
almost come to a holt, a stall, push forward and up
we climb.
I got a full lap in as the Wissahickon, from my door, back home. to a nap to a Chaat house in W. phila for dinner to a chair with a beer and a new book.

I've started reading the Klaus Kinski book, his autobiography.  I've been waiting almost 15 years to read this book.  It was published then pulled, to lurid. its free again, to buy and read. 
The first word is good, the second better. 

after clean uping Belmont, I took a strool down and walked through the old trolley line tunnel.
Like a dope I stopped and stared up at the loose bricks,  looking like ready to fall.
the ground had a bunch of them.
nothing fell on me.

while I am pedaling, I do, I feel no age.     and I feel like a cave man, with a stone trying to draw a bison, that's what writing is like for me.



a little english

I put  8 tall pints, a book,   my work gloves into the left basket this morning.  I set off a bit early. 
I wanted to sit and read a bit first,  have a beer, enjoy the view.

the bike was not hard to ride,  I did feel the unbalanced weight in the rear.

I like riding in a gusting strong wind, how it pushes the bike, lets up
the invisible, force.
how I've learned to relax, or lean into it with,  a bit of dutch.

so after a bit, I don't even notice the tilt or non tilt.

Its a was very short ride anyway, not windy, just a bit, lopsided.

the reason I got out, cause today,  was a trash pickup day at Belmont.
I don't know who got this going,  I haven't paid attention neither to who puts it together, 
I show up, get to work
and Its amazing how much shit gets done
I like sometimes just to work.

I went back up to the plateau,  got a bunch of pages read, its a good book, kicked another beer.

and a
quiet night at home.

cheers, d.


what should be Normal

at the age 50, I have finally got it together a bit.  I know that I've been saying a lot about this bike, the SS free spirit, but not since I was a kid, have I been out pedaling about to get to places and get things.

why is my heart and soul, my mind so attached to this bike?   Its silent as I pedal it down the road. Just simple, one gear.  I feel a breeze, I see the houses.   I lock it in front of a store, pick up the consumer goods I need.  Unlock and ride on.  Its not carbon, or the right fit.  Its the bike that puts the biggest smile on my bald skull.   I pedal past my car, turn right, and head out into the world,  In the world, not in my car.

riding to get what you need, it makes you shop local, small store, for sure.
I tried to ride to Whole Foods in Plymouth Meeting to get my growlers filled.
Not safe.  Not a place you can ride to.  The big box stores, are set up, to drive up to.

Your local bike shop, its full of characters,  much like the old days vinyl record stores.  The people there love riding, love the bike, and despite their idiosyncrasies, love you shopping there.
Philly is a town full of people that love to ride their bikes,  and not just Philly, the whole area around here.  

the bike in your garage, be it 5, 10, 30yrs old, it... its state of the art and most likely a fine machine.
Get it running again,  You need a shop,  there are plenty of great ones around here.  Ask one of those shaved legged with logos all over their clothes,  riding a $5000 bike,  and they will be happy to chat, and point you to a shop that they shop at,  and maybe even get you a little break on the $, or quicker service.
Yo, if you need help, let me know,  my home shop, Cadence, in the heart of Manayunk will set ya up,
and I'll get you a bit off the price.
but really all the shops,  Breakaway, Keswick, Bicycle therapy, Mainline cycles, 
ALL the local shops... they are all great shops, that are staffed by fine folks,... who.... love to ride... and want you to ride.

and if you live in Pittsburgh, more great shops, Vermont,  California, yep, all over the US.  Just let me know if you need a local shop, and most likely, I can refer you to one.    Like the old punkish music days, the world of bike riders is interconnected, we all share the love of riding, and know each other.
and we are everywhere.
We love our bikes.  Talking bike, reading bike.
and nothing makes me feel better, than sharing this love I have, Like a good beer or great painting, this riding thing, seeing someone else enjoy, that's mighty fine.

Cheers, dlowe.



I knew when I first saw it, discovered, realized, being Bad Ass, that's what I wanted to be.  I knew, at that young age, a white, spindly lad living in the most bleak of averages cities, the city of   Columbus Ohio, that I had no real chance of being a Bad Ass, for sure.   I'm not sure columbus is a city of anything, like a big apple, or brotherly love.   ..............of course its a dandy fine place to live.
I don't remember who was the 1st bad ass in my mind, Woodrow Hayes, Nick Cave?

I think Tex Cobb is a Bad Ass. 

Hunter S. Thompson.  Bukowski.    Mr. Rockwell Kent.
Certain periods of times,  the 1895s-1930s  had some bad ass-a-ness
58-78.  got some more.     and them S. American's  some good ones too.
writers, painters, a few politicians, some boxers. 
eastern Europeans are blessed with natural bad assness, but few harness the gentle side of the soul.
 Actors/filmmakers.  Klaus Kinski.

Now, not a better time for a bad ass to appear.    tough one now, to out live, think, beat all the jabbering data flying about,   but it sure is fertile days.  Lots of shit.

I try to live a bad ass life.   Big heart, evil, darkness, humor, clever, strongness, perverse, addicted.
so you should see me grovel in some of the corporate places I work.
and I shake and shudder at a bit too many undefined fears.
to get anywhere
more than a 1/4 mile, few steps here and there, nowhere near bad assness.

so I just sit with my ego,  and it still believes, in me, my being a bad ass. but I know, its never to be.
the saps a rising, the feral inside, spawning,



Mr. Kent
so to wrap this all up,  make sure, that if you are a bad ass, to get a nice portrait of yourself.
If need be, drop me a line, and I'll see what I can do for you.   
wink. dlowe



nippy, a bit, for sure
my light jacket, flapped un-aerodynamic in the wake of pedaling the bike.
I don't know, but I don't think there is much better than pedaling around your neighborhood
coming home
at night.
Growlers are 1/2 priced.
George's row house is on the end of the row.
He has a nice back porch.
with a common alley along it.
every once in a while you say salutations to someone.

I pedaled tonight, cloudy night dark.  Riding along. 
Just me.
a short ride,
it'll last forever.

cheers, d.



I'm prepping for Paris Roubaix.
I'm not riding the Monkey Knife Fight again.
I look forward to making a Brussel's omlet for my wife's birthday breakfast.

I think a bottle of Rodenbach Grand Cru is going to go fine with the strong black coffee

I will go out for a ride, after some sleeping off.   The cross bike, Gladwyne, for sure.

raced today, held my lines in the 6 corner crit, chatting it up a bit in the turns, "I'm good on this line,..."  "thank you very much"    Legs got pop, rolled the dice, craps. 17th.  

 I feel like a poor King, david.  cheers.