chewykolchuk.com

Officially, for the record, I would like to say that I don’t care for idiots.  Idiots waste your time.  Idiots like to talk.  Idiots don’t usually say anything of real import, they just move their mouths and noise comes out.  Idiots are stupid and should have their own country where they can all stand around talking at the same time.

Occasionally in my job (and all the jobs I’ve ever had, pretty much) somebody will call in and ask questions about a bike or a bike part.  Excellent, that’s what I’m here for.  I’ll happily answer any and all questions you have because you want to know about bikes and buy the right bike or part that best suits your needs.  Perfect!  But when an Idiot calls in, forget it.  I just had one of them call and tell me at length how he needs a certain size bike because his knees are bad from skiing in Colorado, and he’s 6ft tall and he should have been 6’2″ but maybe his growth was stunted from smoking cigarettes when he was younger and he just bought this bike for $20 at a yard sale and how much is this thing worth and is it the right size for him and blahblahblah.

Well Dingdong, can you hold the bike up to the phone and let me get a real good look at it?  Of course, I couldn’t get that far because every time I opened my mouth to answer every stupid irrelevant question he had, he would start talking about other stupid crap that had no bearing on the subject.  Just the facts, man.  This guy had everything but.

Whatever…  I think that’s the one thing that IMMEDIATELY drives me fukn nuts.  I have no patience for mindless lip-flappers.  So much so that I had tell you about it.

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This morning I got spam from a guy named Hung Gustafson.  That’s so awesome, I had to post immediately.

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Some times I look back on what I’ve written and I think, “Jesus dude, you are longwinded. Shut up and get to the point already.”  Other times I think I’m a Pulitzer Prize-caliber writer with a rapier wit.

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If you have ever commuted by bike in the urban environment for any length of time, then you’re going to be familiar with the balancing act that is trying to stay between the cars in traffic and the parked cars on the side of the road. You have to be aware of traffic coming up behind you so that you don’t inch your way into their lane and become a hood ornament, but you also have to be far enough away from the parked cars so that you don’t end up getting The Door. Having been in the bike industry as long as I have, I’ve heard about The Door many times, and to this day I’ve been lucky enough to have avoided that. The Door is definitely at the top of the list of Super Sketchy and Painful Moments on a Bike. My fear was always that when the unsuspecting motorist person opened their door, the cyclist would catch the sharpest part of the door (you know, that super thin outer panel that tucks neatly into the contour around it? The blade part?) right between the knuckles and have it cleave right through the arm, between the radius and ulna, all the way to the elbow.

I’m not so much in favor of that for myself, ya know? Read more…

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