I went to Pittsburgh, to see my family.  and I went to race.  on a course that goes across two bridges, downtown.  A nice short square 4 corner, .08 miles, with a slight rise and drop on and off each bridge.

Out of corner two and up and over Andy Warhol bridge.  into a headwind, and down into a corner three you'd could hit as fast as you could ride.   I did a couple of races, and held my own, but not placing well.

I think too much when I drive, stuck in the car by myself.   time just goes slow.
I am trying to talk myself into from being from Philadelphia, lived here now since '86.
Not working.

It's new to me, the years passing,  the older than me growing even more older.
Some of my family is not blood, but is family by law, and that don't matter, not a bit.
I visited my "step" grandfather.  The first time I met him years ago,  he reached out with his right hand to me.
To shake, I grasped, and his grip, firm, fingers pulled tighter,  and I gripped back,  he looked in my eye.

In his room was sitting one of those hand spring exercisers.  He look me in the eye and held out his hand, and I mine, and we shook again, firmer.
That first handshake, that grip, the look in the eye,  that did change me.

I ride a lousy crit.  I pay money, but I never finish well, well not as of late.   

my best regard, d.


the Surrealist

I was dropped only 4 laps in.
and I pedaled one by myself, was about just to ride to the car, and a small group came up on me.
I joined.  Soon I was at the front just going hard, pulling.  Some of us were sharing the work.
It was not for much, we were not going to catch anything, we'd all been dropped.
I was sitting four wheels off the front, and the dude had been up there pulling for a bit.
The next two, teammates were riding like we were coming into a finish, like to win.
I rode past them to the front to take him out of the wind.
I said, as I passed the two, "you can take a pull',  "we are dropped".
I dooled out what I had, at the front hitting the corners hard, and into the wind hard.

Riding a bit just after the finish of the race, one of the two, who'd not did work, I coasted past,..."that was no fun riding with you",  I said.

I laid on the couch at home, finally I was destroyed.  My mind, legs, lungs, heart.

and off, out,  despite the ache in the legs and wheeze out of the throat.   to a small gallery,  I just wanted to lay on the couch.

Just a simple empty two rooms.  Full of beautiful photographs.   Shawn Theodore's.
"The Avenues" Uptown & Gtown.

a fantastic show, really great stuff.    @ the iMPeRFect Gallery  5601 Greene St. Philly

The new book I am reading, quite good:

So I think the thing about surrealist, is the juxtaposition, you know the real and imagined, distorted, and where you've drawn your lines.

regards, dlowe.


Flames of Sweat

Woods - "Shepherd"

The Lu Lacka Wyco Hundo II
photo: Joe Mallis

I drove up to Wilkes Barre to ride the, Soul of Pat Engleman, the Lu Lacka Wyco.   Got a cheap clean room with Craig.  Went out for some Old Forge pizza to experience some localisms, and went to bed early.

It was a nice morning out,  off we went,  for a good day of riding.    I don't have any big long climb-ie rides in me, its been a while.  I felt good, even a bit peppy, in the front group, but they got going and I drifted back off, dropped, at about mile 40, and joined a group of peers.  We rode steady, joked, suffered, coached and pushed each other, on to the end.   Its not an easy 100 miles.   To finish at a brewery, Susquehanna Brewing Co., with lots of food, beer, laughing, that, that, was a great reward.  I have to say, I went up some of those climbs, staring at the ground, just hardly making the cranks go round, in the sun, suffering,  smiling.   This ride is a winner.   Dirt road, back roads, views, descents,  yapping dogs, Wind, and some climbing.

Thanks Pat Engleman, and your amazing crew of helpers.

I'd would of liken to take a plenty of pictures on the ride,  many, many, beautiful views, of suffering, and landscape.
The ride, it don't give you much room, to do anything, but give it your all.  Just all to the bike.

my Best Regards, dlowe

photo: Peter Bakken

                                           photo: Pat Engleman

                                                photo: Peter Bakken

      photo: Pat Engleman

                                             photo: Pat Engleman      




I was just gone a night and a day, and my wife bought flowers and put out the gnomes.
and it seemed as if while riding today
that I could watch the buds open to blooms

a very pleasant way to spin out the legs for sure.

regards, dlowe


how something so mundane and normal becomes special

Britta is over there on the far side of the stage playing bass guitar.  The band is Dean Wareham.
The music under this moniker is excellent, a good mix of stellar talent, and a laid back pursuit.
Britta would make it over to my side of the stage to play the keyboards right there infront of me.  The instrument placed facing the wall.
and She'd turn, pick up the rhythm shaker with the right hand, left hand on the keys, and twist to sing into the mic. 
Her short cut crisp blouse would pull untucked from the low rise black pants.  and above the copper pant button, a bit of skin came out, and a tiny peak of her belly button.  I found that pretty sexy.
I don't think anyone else could see it,  I tried not to give off what I was looking at, be rude.
that's one thing I try to appreciate on a ride,  those little tiny plain, everyday magic moments.

The War On Drugs -  "Eyes to the Wind"



today was one of those days, one of the rare ones.
I've been stale with the camera as of late.  After dinner tonight,  Ljiljana and I strolled just a bit, to enjoy the magic hour, the sun falling in the small dourer hamlet of Lansdowne.  I saw the light, coming between the buildings and got a
good, a snapshot that finally made me, happy again.

I'm sitting here  a bit sunburned.  From digging dirt, lots of dirt.  I did not ride much today.
I was a gigantic grand minion today, and that"s what made the day special.

I work over at the pumptrack,  just on the edge of a neighborhood,  a philly city hood.
during one break, I sat and drank some water, and look out across the dirt, the fast street, the train track, the steep tall weed cover hill, the trash thick and heavy on the top dumped right behind the row houses, at the windows, where I imagined one kid, in his bedroom looking out, down the hill, out at the dirt track.

later tonight I came across this, from Philly Pumptrack (

"Today was the most amazing day of my life. The coolest day that has revolved around cycling in the past 20 years.  We had a volunteer day at the Philly Pumptrack and nearly 30 people attended. Almost a dozen children. We moved tons of dirt. We moved tons of rock. We rode our bikes on the beginner track and met new friends. Henry, around 6 or 7 learned how to ride the track today! All this was great, but not what brings me to tears reliving it to you now. Around lunch, Heidi made a stop at the basketball courts and met a few kids on bikes and told them about the pumptrack and they followed her over! Two of the boys, Kevin and Aaron stuck around a while, rode, did some digging, rode some more, and then headed off home. I stayed late to water down dirt after everyone left, and as I was about to leave, Aaron was riding up with a friend. So I waved him into the park. And then there were 2 more friends behind him. And then 3 more. A total of 9 neighborhood kids came out to see the track! Some with, and some without bikes. I explained that they couldn't ride without helmets, but no one had one. I said we have some here, and bikes too (thank you SE Bikes). The kids were confused until I explained this was a city park, and these were not mine but "ours". The first thing they were worried about was someone stealing "our bikes". I explained stewardship. I explained having respect for communal property. I explained our "no helmet, no ride - No dig, no ride" policy. It clicked instantly with Basir and Aaron. Then someone dropped a wrapper from one of the snacks they were eating. "Whose going to pick that up?" Said one young guy next to the offender.  He said "I'm not picking up his trash". Who will?  I don't remember if it was Basir or Aaron - but one of them said "I will" ran over and picked up the wrapper and put it in the recycle bin. I stayed around for nearly an hour longer than intended with these guys. They helped police the track for trash, packed up all the bikes, lysol'd and put the helmets back in place and helped me close the gates. One of the bikes got knocked over during the clean up and another kid snapped, "Hey! Don't scratch our bikes!" As I was ready to leave, they asked when they could come back. How about tomorrow at ten? We will dig, then ride, then clean up, then ride. How's that sound? Every one of them said they would be back tomorrow. I don't know how many of those little guys will be back. But I do know that the last 4 years we spent getting Philly Pumptrack built was 100% worth it. If only for today. I will never forget this amazing day, or these kids. Thank you everyone who has helped the Philly Pumptrack made a difference in the kids lives in this photo. You helped make this possible.
Kenn Rymdeko"




The last couple of years this time of year I ended up out of town working.   I missed the woods changing, growing in.   Not that I ride the mountain bike much.  I'd leave, the woods dead, no green.  I'd come back, and out on the bike and the woods would be grown in green and dense.   The trails have a different feel, tunnels, curtains of green brush,  and I'd ride on the line.  

Past Tuesday, out on the drives ride, I'm a bit out of shape, but feel pretty smart about riding.  It made me feel good, when I got home and logged into strava, and saw that I got a KOM.   The first lap, from the Art Museum to the Falls Bridge, 4 miles @ 7:56.  30.4 mph average.   #1 of 710 riders.

today I took out my single speed mountain bike, and rolled over to the Wissahickon.  Its been a long time since doing a lap.  It kicked my ass.  That one lap pretty much crushed me.  You can't hide in the woods, you gotta ride, strong and fast.   23.6 miles in 2:31:57,  unspectacular.

I don't have work tomorrow,  so I'll ride, not sure which bike it'll be.  Or where I'll go. 
I just know that I want to ride.  Go somewhere.