It's all about the bike

Mostly, I guess. It's mostly about the bike.

A little over a month ago I was thrust into an acquaintance that ultimately led me to Lucky Wheels DIY Motorcycle Garage in downtown Los Angeles. It was here on a quiet Saturday night that over 1,000 people came to check out an all-women's motorcycle show. Put on by Alicia (The Moto Lady), this event had 27 bikes made by or for women. It was pretty cool to be able to geek out over motorcycles while sipping on PBR and listening to some pretty cool one-man bands. There was a forging demo and a welding demo. Mostly it was neat to see over 600 bikes blocking the street and the incredible support the biker community has for this. Sadly the cops shut it down, but not before everyone was able to have a fun evening.

 

52 Weeks - A Photo Project

52 Weeks     -  A Photo Project

Fifty-two week photo project.     Week 1. OLD

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I'm taking off on a 52 week photo project. One photo per week. A day in my life. I have themes for each week, but they won't be revealed until I put the photo up every week.

 

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Four AM

Four AM

The thunder cracked, breaking the deadening silence of the snowstorm. The white sky was alight in a myriad of blues, greens, and a tinge of neon yellow. The wind stirred the snow piling up around me. Sitting in a curled ball on my rope and backpack in a small cave, I looked over at my climbing partner. Eric’s face was pale, eyes wide, and he was shivering – from both the cold and unfiltered fear. I was trembling; my eyes darted around as the sky exploded violently around us. We were isolated and dependent on each other.

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Growing Up

Growing Up

I curled my toes over a rock outcropping, staring at the alpine pond we had come across still half-shrouded in ice. The warm Sierra sun shined through the trees, illuminating the verdant grasses around the pond in an almost magical way. The air was still and silent; crisp, cool, yet warm and inviting. I could hear my heartbeat; I could hear the rustling of clothes being stripped off by my friends. The anticipation was palpable. It was juncture in time that the path of my life transitioned.

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Weekend Power-Backpacking

Weekend Power-Backpacking

As the patrol agent slowly came by I prepared myself for my usual rant and rhetoric with overly assertive peacekeepers. Though, it was raining - no pouring out - and I was on the move. I casually passed and with a smile, nod, and a polite wave the Border Patrol agent continued casually down the road. Here I was at the often ballyhooed start of the Pacific Crest Trail. Alone with all but Maura, my ride, in the sleet/rain/hail/maelstrom from the sky. Before you ask, no I’m not hiking it… all… this year. Maybe someday in the future, but not now.

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Superelevation

Superelevation

On a chilly Tuesday evening in April I made my way down the block to a field across the ravine from the parking lot for the Zoo. Having read about it and seeing track I was excited to find out that there were races and that this oddity wasn't just a training ground. San Diego is home to one of four Velodromes in California and one of 28 in the united states. It is here that you can witness the sport of track bicycle racing.

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