Singing This Song.

Ok, ok, I finally did it. You may now add me on twitter:

http://twitter.com/xbrendanbaileyx

I'm still figuring out how to use it, but man, when I have it sorted, it's going to be awesome.

We Stand On Guard For Thee.

The fun thing about riding alleycats is there are so many variables - or, to put it in simpler terms, there are so many things that can go wrong. This was certainly the case during last night's Love Is A Battlefield Valentine's Day alleycat. Lane and Safa were tipped to pair up and smash the field, but Lane's dodgy knee convinced him to give it a miss, so Safa was left with Dimos. The two of them are apparently still looking for Flinders Bridge, which is usually known as Princess Bridge. Benzy and Coffee Ben looked the goods, and even recovered quickly when Coffee kieren bumped not one but two moving cars, but tripped up on the same hurdle. Chaz and Ryan flatted out. And Sime nearly had his arse kicked by some angry homeowner when he was caught stealing a sunflower.

And me? Well, I was supposed to be having a rest day, and had to come up with a way of resisting my own temptations - ie, to smash it. Given it was a Valentine's day theme I was paired with Casey, which helped, and riding her pink Malvern Star Park Avenue helped a little more. The Park Avenue was apparently the source of much discussion - kids with tricked out, colour co-ordinated fixies couldn't quite believe that I was going to race on it (obviously they were too fresh to remember old mate riding a girl's step through in Sime's Scavenger Hunt Alleycat in 2007... and winning, only to find out he had an answer wrong). They also seemed quite surprised when I flicked them, hooked them and tried to put them into the gutter every time they went past. Like the Boy Named Sue, you gotta be tough if you're going to ride a pink bike.

It was the pink bike, however, that was our downfall. I was able to cope ok with it being stuck in the one gear, and that gear feeling a bit like an 88. But I wasn't too good at remembering its other limitations. Popping it up off a gutter on Sydney Road probably wasn't the best idea, and by the time we hit Pigdon Street I had a flat. I hadn't really prepared for this contingency. In my bag i had my usual emergency kit - pump, levers and a spare tube - but the tube was a Schwable Racelight 700. The wheels were 27 inch. They're not the same. And, to further the issue, when I pulled the old tube out, the rim tape came too, eventually disintegrating in my hands. We wrapped the rim in electrical tape (I am always well prepared for the coming apocalypse), shoved the tube in and limped back to the museum.

Ten minutes later Jay and Coopz rolled in, taking out first. Jason and THE JAMS came in second, and I can't remember who came third.

It was a benefit alleycat, and apparently the organizers - Zoe and Maija - were able to raise $400 for the most excellent Spokes In The Wheel project. Nice work, folks.

Slow Train Coming.

Will include handicapped racing / the minute challenge / chooka challenge.

Get there!

Consider Someone Else.

It's bad enough that people eat eggs, but when fucking piece of shit bogans in commodores start driving around with open cartons of chicken period just so they can throw them at random cyclists, it's time to bring the vegan jihad.

The Young Offenders.

Kung Fu.

From my old life: Picaresque / You split zine launch this Thursday at Sticky. Starts at 6pm. Zines, music and vegan muffins. Get there.

What Was That Reason?

From http://www.ritteracing.com/

"Cycling for recreation and sport is a silly silly thing. Seriously. Most of us are grown ups who shave our legs, wriggle into spandex, and fret over color coordination to such a degree only a hipster could understand. We’re all just riding around on bicycles for shit’s sake. And perhaps to make the scene even more absurd, we’re racing each other, like little kids at recess. The next time you’re on a group ride, sprinting for an imaginary line just think about how inherently silly the situation is. And then to take it a step further, we pay lots of money to organizers to let us sprint each other to actual lines so we can get points and race against people who are even deeper in clutches of the Obsession. We ratchet down our shoes and become nothing more than little boys and little girls. And that is exactly the reason why we should love our sport so damn much."

Soothe Me, Baby.

I've just moved house, and as per usual Optus are taking their sweet ass time to get me a new modem. So no updates. I'll get back to you soon.

If You Have To Ask.

Entries have been extended til Saturday. Will be a shit tonne of fun, except for the one hundred lap motorpace, which will hurt. But not if you're just watching.

What Will Sustain Us Through The WInter?

Andy "Fyxomatosis" White, perhaps feeling the loss of the Cannonball Run, decided that he would head over to Adelaide to watch the Tour Down Under. On his bike. In four days. Now, I grew up around Western Victoria, and if there's one thing I can tell you, it's that once he leaves the volcanic plains around the Western Suburbs, he's in for a whole lot of up and down. With very little in between. He asked me if I'd be interested in riding to Hamilton with him, but after I blew up in Kinglake on Sunday the answer was clear to everybody.

Good luck and godspeed, brother.

It Was Just That The Time Was Wrong.

If I Could Walk, I'd Be A Miner.

I've been having some trouble with my hips lately, perhaps due to the aforementioned attempts to 'go harder', and as such called up Dom to make an appointment. Instead of asking me what time I was available, however, he asked me if I ever caught the bus to work along Bell St.

"Yeah, why?" I replied.
"Because I saw you walking. And mate, your walk is fucked!"

In the consequent appointment he told me that I wasn't ever locking out my knee, which means I load up the joint and throw my hips and back out. That slouchy teenage insouciance was coming back to get me. So now I have to re-learn how to walk. Which is totally fucking hard! Imagine trying to alter something you have done thousands of times a day for thirty years. Having to think consciously about something you've been able to do subconsciously all your life. Overcorrecting, in the hope that when you stop thinking about it you'll fall back into the correct gait. Looking stupid in the meantime. Looking something like this.

Master! Master!

When it comes to holiday reading, my second favourite genre of book is 'badly written auto/biography' (my first favourite is, of course, 'well written auto/biography', but let's face it, those are few and far between. Especially when it comes to cycling auto/biographies. I mean, fuck, have you read the Lance Armstrong book? That shit blows). This summer my parents generously overlooked the Cadel Evans book - perhaps sensitive to my recent defeat at his hands - and purchased for me the Anna Meares book. It is, true to form, terribly (ghost!) written, but seems to have left an impression on me nonetheless. I think I'd been getting a bit slack before Christmas - not pushing myself hard enough at training, settling for podium finishes in racing - and reading about the training that she and her peers at the AIS do has given me the inspiration to push myself even harder. Every effort, every race, every training ride. It's on.

Which Won't Actually Be A Song Song.

Good mate Campbell Townsend is in the hospital today, courtesy of a driver running a red light at 60ks an hour. His leg is apparently broken in three places. As you ride past, on your daily commute or your way to get coffee or your training run down to Beach Rd, I encourage you to yell out for him to "Do A Skid!", as an act of solidarity. It ain't much, but it will let him know that the community is with him.

He's on level seven. Yell loud.

I'm Going To Tell God.

So, you have a track bike, right? And you occasionally head down to the velodrome to roll around and take some pictures, right? Well, now it's time for you to give back to the community!

The Brunswick Track Open is on Saturday the 30th January. It has become tradition for fixed.org.au and members of the fixed gear community to sponsor races. Last year we were responsible for the "I'm A Potato" B Grade Scratch Race, and the "Buy A New Bike" A Grade Scratch Race.

This year I'm thinking the "Siq Barspinzz" Handicap, the "Don't Flame Me Bro" Keirin and the "Industrie Fixed Gear" Elimination. But this sponsorship (and their hilarious names) depends on your donations!

If you are interested, please send five, ten or even twenty bucks to paypal and I'll work it out. Should be a great evening and fully sick racing.

Cash to me in person, Paypal to ndf at undershorts dot org or

You should also come down on the day and watch! The highlight will likely be the 100 lap Henry Hill Motorpace. Folks will be dropping like flies.

Feel free to repost in all of your networks.