Sunday, April 29, 2007

"Well, I have good news, and bad news."

The good news is that Morgan took 8th. On the Mielgeot. I brought home 11th and a gift cert to OCB, despite an unscheduled off-course excursion on the wrong side of Terminal Ave and a "fuck it, it's nice out, let's just take the scenic route" jaunt through Stanley Park with Adam. Which turned into "Ayo, y'all finna tear up that durrrtay-durrtay, son?"

The bad news is that Morgan's clavicle ain't lookin' so hot. Oh, snap. I suppose I shouldn't mention that there were ramps at the afterparty, too.

Shadow pretty much summed it up:

"I'm not a fake courier, I'm a fucking BMXer."

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Safe, sane, and consensual.

So as I'm gearing up to go over to Leanne's and eat all of her food, Morgan "Drift King" Tsaylor rings me, and he's all hepped up on some n+1 business because he bought a new BMX, and I think he's trying to offer up his old tank as some kind of compensation for getting scooped on the GT. He sounds like he's been into the tall cans:
"Dude, do you realize that there are people who actually just get on these bikes and do jumps and shit? Like, they're not breaking any parts or hurting themselves or anything - they just ride the fucking things?"

Damn, son. If I even look at a bike with 3-piece cranks these days, my body involuntarily shuts down and I wake up rocking back and forth in a corner muttering to myself about bottom bracket shell standards. So yeah, the ol' wrist ain't doing so well. It's been a rough couple of weeks, and having a veiled offer of an indestructible 20" hackmobile (with pegs!) waved under your nose after losing out on a $300 track bike isn't making it any easier.

It's a rugged life, son. It's war out here in these streets. Burrard St at full chat dropping down northbound past triple-seis last week. Nitwit pedestrian steps out into the bike lane between two parked trucks. Car in the lane to my left, nothing but door on the right. Of course, when you ride with a bunch of random hoons, one learns to watch for the quick leg-twitch and react accordingly: quick metal-on-metal bark up front to scare the shit out of him and set up the weight transfer for a full lock on the rear. Hip-drift onto the grease strip, breaking traction for just the sweetest, neatest little Scandinavian Flick six inches into the left-hand lane and another flick back to the inside because if the juice is flowing, I am coming down that hill like a wolf on the fold. Like fucking plague. Captain Trips, son. M-O-O-N spells "Get money."

Sunday, though, we were all Tom Boonen. And B-O-O-N-E-N spells "owned." Sure, maybe you didn't get to bring home the Queen of les Classiques, but it was mos def one hell of a dance, and everybody got to come home bloody, dirty, and drunk. And on Sunday, Mr. Boonen rocked quietly back and forth on the Grandview Park polo grounds, and tried to piece together just how it all went down. Something about taking a moment to compliment Mr. Luciano (the hardest-working man in show business) re: a fine last-minute wheelbuild from Rob, and then borking it not five minutes later via a kamikaze derby run at Kelly. And making her cry. Work bike vs. polo bike. Comedy wins. Mavic Open Sport and short-term memory lose.

Except that out sur la pave, Tommy Boy is getting the first ever custom-molded bicycle frame to accommodate 13mm worth of back discomfort, and out on these streets, kids can't even get a muthafuckin' dental plan. Shit, some of the hardest female riders in this city are wrecking themselves because they can't even get a frame that fits.

How can you be bitter, though, when guys like The Artist Formerly Known as Nagasawa Mike are screaming "PACK-A-GESSSSS" at you in the elevator; or when Bun Guy appears out of nowhere just as the bonk is coming down; or when you get stopped out of the blue to show off your Midnight Mass emo-button for a Momentum Magazine photo shoot; or when Skylar gets screamed "EYYY! FUCK-A YOU, AH!" on him within seven minutes of leaving the house for a breakfast hoon run out to the Drive?

Or when you're three knuckles deep into the smoothest, juiciest run ever, and the Asian chick smoking a blunt in the black AMG is checking you out and bumping this shit as you lock up:

My roof back, my money rides
I'm on the pedal, show you what I'm runnin' like

Steady on that grind, son.

More shit from the B-Tionary:


Timing your turns so as to keep a vehicle or pedestrian as a barrier against oncoming traffic. Shields up, Mr. Sulu!


BK1 cheque delivery to a junior mining firm of dubious credibility. Cashout-n-dashout. A good 30% of these offices are shuttered by the time I get there, and I can only hope that their officers and directors had the good sense to break out like Stuart O'Grady to a non-extraditable country before the hammer drops. I suspect that in some instances, I've made it mere moments in advance of the process servers.

HOT BIEK RACE ACTION THIS SATURDAY. BRING INTERNET MEEPING AND A TALL CAN TO CRAB PARK AT 4:20PM. For the record, my race strategy is "Don't fucking hang out with Wendell, Skylar, Leanne, Tara, or Kelly the night before, you fucking degenerate, and maybe you won't be dry-heaving at the starting line this time around."



Stay tuned for more sporadic alcohol-fuelled updates: the long-procrastinated Project-B winter gear review wrap-up; gettin' dirty with MEC, Park Tool and Filzer; the unkindest words we've pretty much ever had to say about a cycling product since fucking BioPace; and the finest in girl-girl makeout action that the internet cycling press has to offer. As always, somebody gonna get-a hurt real bad.

(photopropz to Trent)

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Today, we are all hoons.

I know it's been a couple of weeks since I updated, and there's been much hilarity to chronicle, but today, not so much. A true hoon has passed over to the other side. One of God's own prototypes. Not a cyclist, but someone who nevertheless taught me that when a car gets too close for comfort, kick a fucking hole in that shit.

Vaya con Dios, hermano. Viva la Raza!

RIP Zilla.

Monday, April 23, 2007

Tall Bike Rampin'

Looks like I'm not the only one riding a tall bike like it's a BMX. The video won't embed properly, so click here for tall bike quarter pipe action.

Enter: The Cunny

I finished the Cunningham's wheels yesterday and took it out for a rip through Eastvan. This thing is pretty tight for sure.

I'll let Morgan report on the aPOLOcalypse and the game of T.R.A.C.K. as he made out like he was at a work less party. I'm going to try and not stare at this new bike for the rest of the day

Thursday, April 19, 2007


Proj-B's east end went out this evening to take advantage of typecasts in the bike community. Yes, Lyle decided it was time to buy a set of post-winter roadie rollers. Attention Everyone: the days are longer and the weather is nice. Time to sell your rollers and do your training on the road. Then you can buy new, upgraded rollers in the fall!

We headed out, BOB in tow, with the tripod to make sure we captured the first moments of new awesomeness in sharp focus. The trip would be wasted without a stop at Kingsgate for some tall cans of Shaftebury. Remember when those were on sale last summer? $1.79 including deposit. That was rad.

As complete newbies to rollers, we thought it would be a good call to learn right away. After loading up, we headed for China Creek North Park to give it a go. We cracked a beer, and got lolling. Lyle was able to get it going without too much trouble, and was soon rockin' it eastside in the grass:

As we realized that rollers on grass was not ideal - they were sinking in - a '63 Impala rolled by on 13" wires, all but dragging the rear bumper. How appropriate. We then took it to the streets, Great Northern Way style:

Unfortunately, the rollers were set up for a longer wheelbase than the tight-angled KHS and, though I was able to get moving on them, it was easy to get bucked off. Lyle's Bianchi was perfect though, and I lolled off into the sunset.'s Commuting forum was a fun time today, as Lyle and I both posted in their Show Us Your Dashboard thread. No computers, HID lights, or excessive cables and levers here, folks!

... and continuing on the topic of bicycle typecasting, here is a very well-written, albeit slightly dated (Aug '06) article from PingMag, called "Bike Messenger Style." Whether we'd like to admit it or not, even those of us who don't courier have been pegged in at least some part of this piece; it goes into much deeper detail than the average article. Somehow, it has me wanting to build 40-spoke wheels, just for bling factor.

Our friend Leo is shown in one of the photos, apparently from the book Messengers style (thanks Mark). I'm sure he's got some great stories to accompany that. I really want to do a project with Leo: some type of custom bike, maybe another tall bike. Great conversations with him were a big part of my building the Mielgeot. If not for that, I may not have ridden it through the fountains at Queen Elizabeth Park!

That image was shot at Tuesday's Hey Fixie by Damon, who is from Melburn, and will be over here for the next while. He's very excited to get involved with the Vancouver bike scene, with plans to help map bike routes and gain knowledge by becoming immersed in another city's bike culture. Imagine going to Critical Mass in another large city... Damon gets to do that in Vancouver for the first time this month. Eventually I hope to do something similar - possibly the 15th anniversary CM in San Francisco in September. Anyone in for that?

Back to the subject of the PingMag article, another consideration is their mention of the flowing, high speed urban riding that "couriers" are known for. With both Nick and Lyle having had car-bike incidents (on bikes with brakes) in the past couple weeks, I've been pondering is whether car-bike incidents are higher in amount of occurrences, but less dangerous overall when riding a very assertive style in traffic.

We associate such riding with an oft-used label on this blog, and a term we use to describe ourselves, which has an almost-accurate description on wikipedia: hoon. Yes, we share a moniker with a group of Australian street racing, car modifying hoons. Definitely one for the B-Tionary. Primer grey anyone?

The part about "consensual sodomy amongst the tribal adult males" is a bit odd and, considering the well-reported-ness of the rest of the article, seems like it almost might be a joke. Well, Camilo and Skylar, we've yet to see that one through - but that's a topic for a completely different blog.

I know we make some fairly complicated manoeuvers and, though we have run-ins with cars, we often see them coming in advance and have already slowed down to expect it. When riding in a group, we communicate with each other very well, informing of bus signals and the like. So, back to the original question: higher amount of incidence, less catastrophic results? Or am I just making all this up?

In terms of injury, Project-B has a much higher rate of getting hurt riding BMX at the skatepark or falling off a proficiently trackstanded tall bike because someone grabbed the rear triangle to "help out." Who knows, maybe someone will injure themselves trying to learn how to ride backwards on the new rollers or, even worse, riding them on a tall bike.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Buy Me This

Regardless of the current consumerism argument going on in the "Buy Me This" thread over at FixedVan, I still want a pretty geared road bike. This Eddy Merckx would be very appropriate, and is in my size. Dura Ace on lugged Columbus, unghhh.

Monday, April 16, 2007

Sun Run

Yesterday I woke up in a strange hotel room overlooking Burrard and Nelson. Things were strewn about as though it had been ransacked. The fountain out front had been filled with soap, and I don't think I slept more than 3 hours.

Yet, the bikes were still there. (The Sheraton people had offered to store them for us earlier, but when we looked at the tag that said 'not responsible for loss' we decided to park them in the room)

At 8am Rhiannon and I hit the streets to check out the start of the Sun Run. We played bikes on a closed off Georgia, and watched people warm up.

Then we hit the course ahead of the wheelchair racers and headed towards Stanley park. At the 2.5km point I was overheatin' something fierce, so I doused myself in a cup of water from one of the water stands. Winning the Sun Run isn't easy.

We then hung out at English Bay to watch the wheelchairs, then the fast runners go by. At this point I should mention that the fast runners were led by a Trio of promotional H2s and H3s driving in reverse delta formation. We told them to get some bikes.

After we got bored with watching runners, we went back to the Sheraton to drink the last of the courtesy alcohol, and gather up our stuff.

We had stayed there because Rhiannon was nominated for two journalism awards, at a dinner/party hosted by CBC personalities Gloria Makarenko and Zack Spencer. In packing up, I started to think it was a mistake to have had flowers sent to the room.

Why a mistake? Well, I hadn't really thought ahead, and didn't think that I would be the one to have to transport the flowers when we checked out. Back through downtown with a loaded bag, and a boquette of Lilies, Roses and Dendrobiums. Who's a posenger now?

Honestly though, that was pretty fun. Signalling lane changes with a large mass of flowers seems to work pretty well, and lots of post Sun Run pedestrians were pointing and smiling. Imagine if I were riding a tallbike!

I'm feeling pretty good about this weekend's events and don't think that they'll be topped too easily. But now it's work time for me.

PS- This week's Projekt-Breakfast had a special semi vegan guest star. I'll let N1ck report on that however.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Everybody wins at the MC3 ride!

Since Lyle and Nick have already shown you their prizes from Friday's MC3 ride, I thought I'd make it a full round. My new 16" Haro BMX performed flawlessly, taking high speed stair rides and 180s off ledges like a champ. The aforementioned hoonery was no doubt a factor in the rear wheel damage incurred by the rest of the B-Team.

You may be wondering, "if the mini came out unscathed, what's the prize?" See Exhibit A: a bruise that extends from above the ankle right down to the sole of my foot, accompanied by some nice looking scrapes. From now on, the mini will be ridden with my Hammer 2Z shin pads.

In my travels today, I found a 44T Haro BMX ring for $1.00, which will fit on the mini even if it requires use of the "bmx tool" (more widely known as a hammer). With its 16T freewheel and 16" wheels, this will give me 44 gear inches - a 22% gain over the previous 36/16 ratio. Hopefully that will help me hold off from doing a cassette conversion on the mini just a bit longer.

Monday, April 09, 2007

Well, this doesn't look quite right, either.

180 to LOL.

On that note, Lyle has been officially dethroned from his brief reign as Vancouver's tire clearance king. Nagasawa Mike showed up to 885 rockin' less than a mil on his new crown, and the local fixed-gear scene is primed for a summer of ridiculous one-upmanship.


Kill Kill Die Die Kill Kill Die!

So.. what did this?

Tail tapping the planter at the Gazebo?
Dorp2falt at the false creek stop?
180 on the Granville tow lot bank?
Dropping the kinked stairs under the Burrard bridge?

It doesn't matter. I knew the wheel was a time bomb.
Friday was the night it went off.
I <3 MC3

You can bet I'll have this shit tight again soon.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

According to my calculations...

My kill ratio for the last month is averaging one wheel per week, and the MC3 ride/travelling circus attracted just under 60 boozehoons - and it's only fucking April.

Yesterday had it all: Project Breakfast; a solid wrenching session at Lyle's with Brandon's new POOOOK (sexy crown, yes) as special guest star; the best damn Americano I've ever had; pre-noon tall cans; porchbeers with Kelly (who is now the new Skylar not by virtue of BMX prowess but by virtue of me stealing beers from her Chrome); the MC3 ride deteriorating into alcohol-fuelled hoonery before even departing the GZBOH; non-BMX things breaking by virtue of being ridden like BMX things; the calling of footdown derby; and Camilo's bike being recovered by none other than the vigilant eyes of Mr. Paul Artel.

Mood: fly
Music: Thirstin' Howl III & Rack-Lo: Lo Down and Dirty

Get your ass down to Dream Cycle

Word on the street is Darren is putting on another vintage show and shine today. The last one was rad-awesome. Old-timey bikes and old-timey people, drinking beer and ogling. I'll be heading down there after work, then over to Grandview Park for some hot east van bike polo action.

Thursday, April 05, 2007

Will do thug shit for $1500, inquire within.
Early 1990's Schwinn Paramount OS built at the Waterford plant. Mavic grouppo with Mavic Open Pro rims. 16 speed solid steel bicycle. Kept indoors.

That's about my dream road bike right there, folks.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Can It Be All So Simple? (the remix)

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, yoyoyo man, yo son, I'm hit, I'm hit son, I'm hit. . . N***az trynna assassinate me, man."

On that note, I am proud to announce Project B's official endorsement of Directive 2003/102/EC of the European Parliament. As a self-proclaimed automotive design geek, I do mourn the passing of low-frontal-area designs. Everything looks like a fucking Yaris now, with the panache of Bertone and Pininfarina taking a back seat to jellybean-with-steering-wheel stylz, and the era of the supercar might pretty much be over.

In all seriousness, though, that went about as well as it possibly could have. Having learned my lesson re: taking it on the shoulder, I pitched the bike away and tuck-and-rolled it across the hood. Chach Romano behind the wheel seemed to recognize that fault lay about fiddy-fiddy and took his scratched-up B200 like a bro, and I kindly refrained from U-lockery, or even any supplementary commentary about "base-model pimpin'." The front wheel is going to need about fifteen seconds on the truing stand - didn't even have to dial in the barrel adjuster on the Modolololol.

On behalf of the 'jekt, I congratulate DaimlerChrysler Canada on their early adoption of VRU-friendly design standards and a hood design that just lovingly (albeit boldly) cups your shit like a bikechick on eleven beers.
"Fly chicks... This is the remix yo... The real side..."

Its just THAT simple.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

"Do I come in to *your* office and start doing tailwhips?"

16" BMX + 885 West Georgia = comedy + panicked pedestrians. Morgan is the new n+1. DeBernardi paint chips are the new breadcrumbs.

Some guy apparently quit Novex mid-shift, causing Tara Borg to wind up with 30 trips in her bag. She seemed slightly less agitated than the random street shaman from yesterday, who was rather distressed re: what the movements of the Great Sun God portend these days. He seemed pleased with the rockin' aviators he found in the garbage, though. I'll ask him to divine the location of Camilo's bike the next time he comes around.

Around lunchtime, some Kiwi tourist got all snotty about how we could possibly work in all this "smog and filth" and was encouraged to "Go back to fucking Calgary, then, you fucking hick."

It's all elevators and ice cream, son.

More Proj-B footage


This is for our upcoming 'Road hoons' video. We buildin' the hype now so you can be assured a quality product.