Darkened doorways.

Because we’re at the head of the summer bike cycling season, and with that, an array of bikecycling events, as has happened annually for the last twenty years or so, a revolving cast of characters has recently been showing up to sully my domain with their stink.

Why, just within the last week, I’ve had four such characters through my home for the simple reasons that the Tour Duh California is apparently happening right now, and secondly, because I charge less than a hotel.

Just the same, when there’s a knock on the door, my first inclination is to hide.

The initial gaggle who’ve strewn their possessions and bodies across my floor were Dan, Nick and Lanolin from Ritte Van Vlaanderingham. They’d had a group ride scheduled on Saturday with Cykel SF, which obviously I was unable to partake in because of that thing in Sacramento.

The other reason I wasn’t there, is that lanolin and I have a pact that states we will never ride bikes with each other as long as we two shall live.

There are a number of reasons we’ve decided upon this, the most important being simply because the universe probably can’t handle the catastrophic result of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Which of course is another way of saying even his chiseled good looks can’t sway me from my place on the sofa.

Just the same, as soon as they arrived, we adjourned to my basement and began shooting stuff;

And Dan told us long and sordid tales of his history randomly massaging people;

Or maybe he was talking about making pizza dough.

I can’t remember at this point, but I can for sure it involved hand gestures.

They eventually went their way, I went mine, and then while I was still gone, they returned home to gather their stuff and feed my cat;

Photo by Lanolin Lease Canyons.
Or at least to take a photo of him looking at the place where his food is supposed to go.

No sooner did the spot on my floor where they all slept Three Stooges style cool;

-did Ian from Castelli Stretchy Suit Company arrive to do some social mediating, food eating and beer drinking;

After solving all of the world’s problems on his first night in town, we devised a plan to ride bikes up Mount Diablo to catch the third stage in the aforementioned bike race;

So as you read these words, there’s a good chance I’m recovering from inching up the incline with a Bob trailer filled with camp chairs and refreshing beverages.

After which I’ll get back to washing bedding, and putting dishes away, but that’s the price I pay for opening my revolving door to ne’er-do-wells.

Anyhoo- Enough of that business. Let’s take a moment to open the mail bag and see what’s what in the world.

For friends who reside in or around Fullerton, California, and happen to like their music deafening, my homies in O Zorn! are playing a rock and roll show this evening at The Slidebar with Exmortis, and everybody’s favorite Early Man;

For the love of goodness, if you go and you care at all about the health of your hearing, don’t forget your ear muffs;

Unrelated to that completely, from Barney I received a heads up about a young soul who also happens to reside in Southern California, who got dealt an extraordinarily bummer hand;

“Stevil-

B”

I replied to him that I never gotta do nothin’, but in this case I will.

The short version is that last month while skating in Santa Monica, Ian Imes was hit by a driver who fled the scene. In the incident, Ian was paralyzed, and now his parents are struggling to cover the mounting, and astronomical medical costs;

Hit and runs are an unfortunate reality that any of us in the cycling community are all too familiar with, and I’m gutted for both Ian, his siblings, and his folks.

It’s a small gesture on my part to post his story, but certainly if anyone had a bit of scratch to throw in his and his family’s direction, you can do so here. I offer my best and most sincere wishes to the Imes family from all of us (pretty much just Buddy and me) at All Hail The Black Market.

In happier news, Loudass sent a tidbit on regarding the place where he once wandered the halls;

“Stevil-

A Heads Up On a Senior Prank That Gets Laughs The Hard Way.”

Naturally, I thought this was hilarious if for no other reason than because I was developmentally arrested at twelve years of age.

And speaking of which;

It goes without saying, When Dickbutt knocks, you answer.