I haven’t posted anything cycling related for a while, and I think we could all use some inspiration. I hope to be riding in another 40 years time too.
Something for all of us to look forward too. What will our grandkids think of our carbon bikes then?
Yesterday, on the way back home from our long weekend away, I received some news that I knew would eventually come but not so soon. My uncle Marc (Gaëtan) Nemorin passed away after a battle with acute myeloid leukemia (AML). He was a happy man to be around and always had a smile on his face and a tale to tell. Marc is and always will be the husband of my godmother Ghyliane Nemorin, and is also survived by his two children – my cousins Shaun and Ariane. He was a good father and took care of his children well. Marc loved football (soccer) and was an accomplished referee who officiated at the top level of the sport in Australia. He kept very fit, and I feel that he has been robbed after living a very healthy life. Marc was definitely a child of the 60s and 70s and the influence in his tastes in the arts stem from this period. I remember vividly to this day this painting – “Wings of Love” by Stephen Pearson, that he had hung up in his lounge room. I did not know the meaning of it as a child, but I just remember how vivid the painting was and the depth to the fantastic scene.
His other love was always music, and he had some cool taste in music. Marc enjoyed singing and jamming with bands often in the studio crooning out tunes. And if there is one thing that he has imparted on me is some of his musical tastes – it is because of Marc that I love Roxy Music.
Marc has been taken away from us far too early, and I feel a great loss not only for me as one of his nephews but the great loss for my godmother, and my cousins who have been robbed of a grandfather for their children.
Gaëtan, may you rest in peace and live on in your children and their children. Enjoy a bit of Roxy Music up in heaven – I am sure Bryan Ferry would not hesitate to jam with you.
There is nothing like a move of house to reinforce the need to declutter your life of material objects. I have been away from this blog for the last couple of weeks for this very reason. And the shocking reality of my hoarding nature has dawned upon me. It is not that I am a hoarder by nature – and definitely nothing even close to those people that hoard like on the Discovery Channel documentaries where there are boxes stacked to the ceiling and 6 inches of passageway through a room. But in over seven years in one place I have definitely accumulated and held onto too much “stuff”. Part of that stuff is the result of the appearance of The Pok (AKA my son) who has assumed the mantle of king of the house.
Some of it is ridiculous – like the fact that I have kept every copy of The Economist newspaper (magazine) I have ever bought – apparently they now have an online subscription. Other bits are just plain clutter, like the set of golf clubs that I was gifted with in the hope of converting me into a metal stick swinger (sweet FA chance of that happening – I am a cyclist). And then there is just the plain old fact that I have so many clothes that I don’t wear anymore and need to be taken to the charity bin for someone more worthy.
The move has finished now and we are waiting for essential services to be switched on, with the key one being internet. The service levels for doing a simple switch at a telecom exchange box apparently is four weeks. If they had given me the keys to the room I would have gone in there and done it myself in 5 minutes. So I will be able to hook into this blog again (and all the other blogs I follow) soon.
But I think the immediate life priority is to empty some of the boxes directly into the garbage bins. Then get back to normal life and writing my blog.
Firstly, it has been a glorious Autumn weekend here in Sydney and the riding was awesome. Which brings me to my story, not related to riding.
My chief riding buddy is my brother Marc. Now that he lives in Melbourne we don’t get to ride together as often, as we are separated by some 900km. A year ago we all celebrated his marriage to my awesome sister-in-law. So it was a trip down to Melbourne that we all made looked forward to all year. For the wedding I was entrusted with only two tasks; witness the signing of the marriage certificate, and bring my brother and his future wife’s overnight bag to the wedding reception.
The first task was easy, I got a look from the newlywed couple in the church and that was my cue to issue my autograph. The church ceremony was beautiful and went off without a hitch.
We returned back to the apartment we rented for the trip to drop off the Pok with his babysitter for the evening. This gave me a chance to pick up their overnight bag and make our way to the reception by taxi so we could enjoy a few glasses of wine for the night. It was a great venue in the middle of Albert Park on the lake.
Arriving at the venue we were greeted out of the taxi by the venue staff and the other guests who would be celebrating the wedding. We were keen to jump out and get stuck into the festivities, it was turning out to be a great wedding. I got the chance to mingle and talk to some of my family members while waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. It was when I was talking to my Aunt that I realised mid sentence that I had left the bride and groom’s overnight bag in the boot of the taxi! Sh!t! I ran back to the doorman, leaving my Aunt to wonder what she must have said to offend me. By that stage 45 minutes had already passed.
So I told the doorman my dilemma, and he asked me how we had arrived? I told him that my mode of transport was a Melbourne taxi, and it was yellow. With that he let out a chuckle. See the image below.
So here is the thing, 99% of taxis in Melbourne are yellow! He asked me if I knew what taxi company it was from. Being from Sydney, I had no idea what companies operated taxis in Melbourne. All I knew was that it was a yellow taxi and it had a large boot with luggage in it.
The doorman said to me he would put a few calls out, but asked me to give him some time and don’t tell the bridal party just yet.
Marc and Sal arrived after we took our seats. I informed my wife who reminded me of how stupid I was (absolving herself of any shared culpability – it was my job after all). As the speeches commenced and the entrees were served I was sweating it. I was not enjoying the wait, with no promise of a good ending. I cast many glances over to the doorman who just shook his head, indicating no luck so far.
As soon as the entrees were finished and there was a brief respite in the reception ceremonies I rushed over to the doorman to get the latest update. He had managed to contact all the major taxi companies and they said that they would put out a call to their drivers. But I had no idea whether the driver would be working through the night or finishing his shift. A lot of weekend taxi drivers call it quits before the drunken idiots decide they need a lift home. The sweat continued.
The reception party continued with the speeches, toasts, and main courses served. I was not relaxed at all. My wife continued to enjoy the evening, and with a few glasses of wine under the belt the story began to spread. Thankfully my brother and his wife did not get wind of it.
By the time two hours had gone and I was “bricking it”. The music had started and I was thinking of all the negative outcomes, and there were many. Another half hour had passed and the doorman called me over to provide me an update. He started by saying, “We managed to find the driver, but…”. I could not believe what I was hearing! But he got the response that he wanted, it was a wind up. They did manage to track the driver and the bag down. The bag was safely delivered and stashed away in the storage room for later use.
At that point I pulled out a $50 note and handed it to the doorman – he earned it. And their overnight bag had done a veritable evening tour of Melbourne city.
I could now finally enjoy the evening and have a beverage or two, while my wife proceeded to retell the story to any member of the family who was willing to listen (many). My brother and his wife were looking strangely at us and my wife in particular as they got a slight inkling that a funny story being told. Little did they know that it was at my expense.
The next day we all met up for post wedding drinks at the pub. I informed my brother and his new wife of what went on. He asked me why I even bothered telling him after the fact, and that ignorance would have been bliss.
I guess I got a lucky save.
Happy anniversary Marc and Sal!
I never thought I would be writing this, but the man who stole my bike has been identified and caught. It turns out his brazenness and stupidity in not trying to hid his identity coupled with leaving the tool he used in crime behind has led to his apprehension.
I was contacted last week by the NSW Police from my Local Area Command and asked to come in and provide a statement. The Police Officer quickly told me that my custom MTB had not been recovered (I had already resigned myself to it not coming back). The officer asked me to bring in the “bike specification” sheet that I had provided to the Police and the my local bike stores. I provided my statement at the same time as identifying the thief from many previous mugshots – fifteen to be exact. It was easily matched to footage from our apartment’s CCTV cameras. Fifteen mugshots means he has been arrested fifteen times.
So who is this guy? Turns out he is a drug addict who resides in Sydney’s Western Suburbs. He is about the same age as I am. A single fingerprint lifted from the adjustable wrench he used to break into my locked up cage was matched to a string of other outstanding thefts in which he has also been implicated. He has a string of other thefts in his “work history”, and previously had a history of stealing automobiles and “chopshopping” them. All of this in the name of maintaining his drug habit. When the Police apprehended him after raiding his residence, they found his shoes and trousers that he wore in the break in. He admitted to the crime, and his hearing will be later this year.
Will I get my bike back? Probably not. He doesn’t even remember where he offloaded it. It was only when the photo was shown to him that he admitted to the incident.
At some point this guy made a choice, or series of choices, to take on this life. This is what I will never understand. I grew up in a house where the only two drugs consumed were coffee and alcohol, and both in great moderation. None of my immediate family members smoked, and most of my extended family members did not either. When I was growing up at school and through university some people would have a go at me for being boring… for not trying this or that. I could never understand this, because how many times do you have to be told that this is the path that leads to nothing good.
I got a real education lesson when I provided my statement. Sitting with the Police Officer at the station provided me with the opportunity to ask some questions about how the theft likely unfolded. The officer told me several things that got me thinking a lot since that day.
As it turns out, bike theft if rife in Sydney. Apparently there is even some huge guy who loiters around the suburb adjacent to ours who through sheer brute strength can bust open bike locks with his bare hands. The thieves, while not the sharpest tool in the shed, do know the difference between a top end bike and run of the mill.
The officer told me that the Police could probably attribute 90% of thefts to the support of illegal drug activities. Theft in the aim of hocking the goods for cash. I was even told that most thieves do not steal so as to contribute to a future positive outcome – like use the proceeds of a theft to help them go on a holiday.
We spoke about the fact that the thief probably didn’t even get paid in cash, but got a stash of drugs for his fix in exchange for the bike. And he probably offloaded it to a ‘house’ before he even returned back to his place of residence. As it turns out, if someone ‘innocent’ lives in one of these ‘houses’ and cannot be proven to be directly implicated in the stolen goods operation they will not get charged. Aiding and abetting in this case is not how it is like on CSI.
And here I was thinking that he might try and take it into a bike store to get the busted spoke in the front wheel fixed.
I can’t comprehend why the Police receive constant criticism and apprehension from the general public. Sure there are bad seeds in the bunch and there are examples of corruption, but this is a vocation that deals with the worst side of society and is often not backed up by the legal system. Plus, I could probably tell you of many worst examples in the corporate world of unethical behaviour.
The Police Officer I dealt with told me about the first six months spent on the job. About the countless dead drug addicts that the officer encountered, who had overdosed on some chemical concoction or another. And about how the legal system does not support them in doing their job by locking the criminals up, or the lack of support groups to try and rehabilitate the addicts to bring them back into society. I asked if there was hope for this thief, but the officer responded that he has hit middle age and this is probably the life he will lead until he is six feet under.
The Police have a pretty thankless job. Yes they are not perfect, but nobody is.I was dealt with in nothing but a professional manner by all the officers I dealt with, and was never bullsh!tted to about the reality of the situation. I want to thank them for taking the effort in apprehending the thief, and I wish they got more support to be successful. As for the thief, right now I can’t forgive what he has done to myself and so many others. He will probably see jail time for his crimes and I am indifferent to that. Based on the life he has lead so far, he has shown no appetite to make a different choice – and everyone has the ability to make the tougher choice.
Does all this make me feel good? No. I just think about what a waste of the opportunity of life.
OK – I can’t hide the fact that I am a little bit excited. I will be getting a new MTB steed!
After the emotional rollercoaster of having my custom made from scratch MTB steed being stolen by some dodgy [#!{/?#$ insert expletives – multiple], I waited nervously for the insurance company to do the assessment and see if they could fix me up with a new ride. Having never had anything of value stolen before, it was uncharted territory for me. I did not know how to deal with the guys from the insurance company and everything I had heard before was that insurance companies would do everything in their power not to pay the sum insured. I felt terrible writing up the claim form and attaching all the documents for the assessment, reliving all the memories in my head of putting the steed together. I think they were a bit shocked when I was able to provide them with a full specification of the bike – and if you asked me over a beer I could probably recite it back to you, tyre valve and all. I had a receipt for pretty much all of the components too. In all, the claim assessment form was 15 pages long. But they came through, though they did note that mine was an unusual case as the steed was bespoke (no pun intended). In some respects I wish the [#$@%*+~ use different expletives this time] thief had stolen my road steed, it would have been a straight swap for a new model of the same ride.
Here is where the next challenge commenced. There were two complications with my replacement requirements; 1. it had to be a 26 inch wheel ride, and 2. it had to come with QR skewers. If you know your bikes then this reads pretty straight forward (and you think to yourself hmmm…), but for the non-riding geeks here it is in more detail and why these two requirements created complications:
It seems that in the few short years from when my old bike frame I purchased was made (2009), the whole MTB world has flipped and invented new wheel sizes. This shouldn’t be a surprise to cyclists because from the time that Gary Fisher was creating custom MTBs back not long after I was born, mountain bikes have evolved in leaps and bounds. Innovations have included the evolution of rigid frames that then copped suspension forks, then the rear triangle copped a suspension rig too (and this whole suspension thing is getting uber complicated if you check out this system from Lapierre). Brakes have gone from caliper brakes to… V brakes to… disc brakes – and pretty soon these discs will be made of carbon, ceramic, and silica composites instead of metal. And wheels have gone from 26 inch to… 29ers to… 27.5 inch / 650B. Confused? Yep – me too! Here is a graphic that explains the sizing, and it is not as simple as measuring the diameter dimension of the wheel (this article explains it in detail)
It would seem that the world is moving away from the wheel size that pretty much lead the growth in the sport so that riders can roll better. My challenge was that I had a second set of true off-road wheels with tubeless tyres being made up at my local bike store that set me back over $600 (mostly funded by my boss as part of a work bonus – give me MTB wheels instead of a ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine I said). And they are 26 inch wheels, which would go to complete waste on anything other than a bike that is made for this wheel size.
The secondary purpose for my bike is to tow my son in his trailer when we go riding as a family. It is one of the main reasons I go recreational riding and requires a QR type axle on the rear so that I can fit the socket joint for his trailer. As this article from Bike Radar clearly states, “Gone are the days when all mountain bikes had 9mm quick-release skewers front and rear. At the front, 15mm and 20mm through-axles are now common, along with 135 x 12mm or 142 x 12mm setups out back.” What is behind this is that the thicker axle setups are stiffer and offer the rider more control, rather than flex. This one like the first seems a bit of a ploy from the manufacturers to generate reasons for upgrading your ride, no matter how solid the mechanical principles are. Still didn’t change my requirements, I just want to use a set of these.
I searched the local bike shops for what they had on offer and it was a bit concerning. Giant had moved their entire MTB range to 29ers. Trek were going all funky with 29ers as well and with some out there axle mounts that no doubt will sell them a few more expensive bikes. Specialized, Yeti, Cannondale, GT, Scott… more of the same. I was getting worried that the MTB universe had moved on from my needs. I was getting more worried that I would have to revert back to an alloy frame, a kick in the guts after waiting for years to get the green light to move into the world of MTB carbon. Then I went to Velosophy in Moore Park – and the heavens peaked open slightly. I spoke with Klara at the store and asked her about some of the BMC mountain bikes. She told me that the entire range doesn’t get shipped out to our antipodean shores, but she ran me through some of the models. Klara then told me that BMC were trying to get rid of last years stock and that there were some stonking bargains to be had (as it turned out I was significantly under-insured, I insured myself for the cost of the components which were purchased at anywhere between 40-60% off the original price i.e. I had built a $6,000 ride for just over $2,500). The one ride she know about was a BMC Fourstroke, though she did not have all the details. Klara said that she would call me back on Monday to find out the specs and if they met my requirements.
When I left the store, I was not expecting a call back at all. Poor customer service is a hallmark of Australian businesses. To my shock Klara called me back like she promised and had the details direct from the BMC sales rep. There was one missing specification (for the forks), and she said that she would follow this up the next day. Again Klara called me back and had provided me with the further specifications. After a bit of thought, maybe two minutes, I told Klara to get me that new bike and the insurance company would be in contact soon. It just goes to show you how taking care of your customer can reap you benefits. Sure the ride is a dual suspension, and not all the groupset components are to the same spec as what I previously had, but the sum of the overs and unders is pretty much spot on. Below is a photo from the internet of my new ride, and I can’t wait to take my new steed for a spin. I will pick it up later this week, which should give me a chance to get over the nasty bout of bronchitis I have contracted. Who knows, it may even get a name. I may learn to love again – ha ha! Can’t wait!
OK – first thing to set straight – I LOVE LEGO!
Good that is out of the way. Even now as an adult, I achieve the same sense of wonderment from a simple set of plastic bricks. For me it is like building a puzzle, but with no set form and untold number of possibilities (and the most phenomenal statistic that I uncovered was that for 6 – 6-sided 8-stud bricks, the classic Lego brick, there are 915,103,765 possible 6-brick combinations – I have found that statistic out on How Stuff Works).Left to my own devices I could build and build and build, restricted only by the time commitments of being an adult and father.But I have not gone down the path of master builder as this would also probably be the path of divorce for me.
But with the birth of the Pok, I have a new reason to play Lego! I probably pushed it a little too early, buying him way too much and constructing a lot of it for him when he couldn’t possibly interact. I do remember him sitting there in his first year watching me as I built him towers and cranes whose arms rotated above his head. We are not playing with Lego proper just yet, more Duplo, but it is great fun nonetheless. Below is our latest incarnation of a tower building, our Lego rendition of the Burj Khalifa (the tallest building in the world) – not quite the match that we would hope for, as we are stuck with the 90 degree angles that Duplo blocks push you towards. Obviously, the real thing is the one on the right.
What is funny is that the civil engineers who design these buildings do so to account for huge wind loads. We have to contend with apocalyptic Godzilla like attacks from none other than the Pok. Which shouldn’t really be much of a surprise given that there are not many real play opportunities for a big tower made of plastic bricks after it has been built. Hmmm… maybe a Lego Duplo Godzilla may be next on the cards – Pok would love that.
Hmmm… notice how he looks innocent again?
As he has been growing, I have waited patiently for him to connect two bricks together. You can imagine my joy when I saw him for the first time connecting the bricks, and then over and over again as he discovered a new found dexterous ability. But now our plotting and scheming is lifting up a level in our creations. The Pok has become quite interested in all things mechanical, and Lego is a great avenue for this. We were watching Cars 2 the other day and saw Mater become a secret agent with all sorts of gadgets. That gave me an idea, how about we make a cannon! But not just any cannon, a proper cannon that can target anything in the room. Below is the creation we landed with.
You cannot believe that amount of cheeky giggles that we have got out of this contraption. First target of course was Mummy of Pok. We sat on one couch and shot at her on another – 100 times. The beauty of this little contraption is that it has a full 360 degree arc of fire in the horizontal axis and 90 degree arc of fire in the vertical axis.
Now he is probably too young to learn trajectory physics just like a little Napoleon.
I will wait until he turns three years old before I teach him this. The creators of Lego Duplo would probably have a heart attack when they found out that one of their customers was building mini projectile weapons systems from the pieces of the Agent Mater set (the cannon), The Deluxe Train set (the blue struts), both the Play with Numbers and Play with Letters (the support bricks for the bridge), the Stone Quarry set (the turntable to support the base platform) the Car Wash (base platform), and the Big City Zoo (the tiger log bridge which rotates on its supports).
Some people would probably call me a bad parent, but I think that every boy (big and small) needs an outlet for these militaristic tendencies. Hopefully I am nurturing a young engineer, let’s hope he doesn’t turn into a fiendish weapons manufacturer – like Tony Stark.
Plus, he has his mother to teach him about cooking, music, and all of that stuff. 😉
Sometimes, it is too much for the little man and he has to do his own thing. More creations another day.
One of my old school mates coined a phrase at a poker night that he was at the bottom of the remote control hierarchy. In most regular people’s home life, this is the only pecking order that really matters. And so it is that I too find myself at the bottom of this hierarchy. But I take solace in the fact that I am not the only one.
Jens Voigt was once quoted as saying – “In the hierarchy of the family, I am just above the dog. But I like it that way.” Now he is in a very different situation to me in that he is happily married with five kids and the family dog. Me happily married, one kid (who eats enough for five), and no dog (Pok would eat his food too).
In a side note to the main topic, the Jensie (as Jens Voigt is affectionately known) also has plenty of other quotes in his ever growing repertoire. These include:
For those who don’t know the Jensie – he is a twitter legend amongst cycling fans and some people reckon that in a bout between the Jensie and Chuck Norris, Walker Texas Ranger would go down! I would really like to live in his head one day, there is some funny stuff going on in there. And if you want to see how tough he is, this is horrific:
But some of the comments about him are hilarious, like – ‘Jens Voigt crashed spectacularly during the 2009 Tour de France. The resulting impact created a mound of earth that is visible to this day. It is called “Col du Tourmalet”‘. It doesn’t hurt that he is a tough as nails, clean, and hard rider who always has time for his fans. But the true mark of the Jensie is captured in this story and you can see why we all love him – A Gift from Jens.
Anyway, back to the hierarchy. Little Pok woke up during the night a few weeks back. As is customary he came charging into the lounge room, with a grip on his pillow in one hand bottle of milk in the other. I was sprawled out on the sofa watching some late night news about to go to bed, and he came up to me and said two words “Mickey Mouse”. BOOM – I was relegated to the bottom of the remote control hierarchy. This happens on a regular basis, whether it is first thing in the morning, when I get back home from work, or late at night when he is restless. The hierarchy as it stands now is somewhat close to:
But you see the hierarchy extends to other aspects of the household as well. Food is the first one that comes to mind, because it appears that my plate and its contents is up for grabs for all higher ranking members. I can’t have my breakfast without Pok coming over to me with those big eyes saying “Daddy, my have some. My have more please Daddy.” What can I say, I am a sucker. Travel hauling is another, where all luggage is carried by me – AKA Sherpa Tenzig, though this one can safely be argued that this is my job. Cycling is probably the other, when we are all out on wheels – I am the rickshaw man. As for the real estate of my bed I was already on a bad wicket before the Pok arrived, now whenever he wakes up in the night and comes into our bed I find myself sleeping with a foot in my face on about 20cm of width at the edge of the mattress.
I suppose like the Jensie, I rest content with my lot. I accept my fate in the knowledge that any (potential) additions to the brood will move me further downward in the standings, and there is really no hope for a reversal in the RC leaderboard. I would just like to, once in a while, switch on the Playstation and shoot something without the possibility of Thomas the Tank Engine or the Food Channel displacing my viewing pleasure.
I guess this is how the RC elite roll. A ride this weekend I think, then perhaps a spot of photography. We shall see – good weekend to all, it has been an eventful week!
Judge: All rise. The court is about to hear the case of ‘Parents versus Pok’. The charge is Mummy assault and battery. How does the defendant plead?
Defense (Pok): My want ice cream, not guilty
Prosecution (Parents): The prosecution wishes to show the court exhibit A – also known as ‘Bettie’s Train Truck’. The blood splatter on the corner of the vehicle is consistent with blunt force trauma inflicted by the defendant on our victim. This can be seen as highlighted on the photo.
Defense: I object, that is not blood that is ‘red glue’ (quote from Pok). My want blueberries!
Judge: Overruled, this house does not contain ‘red glue’. You had already had blueberries for breakfast this morning.
Prosecution: The prosecution wishes to call to the stand it’s one and only witness – Mummy of Pok. Mummy, what did you do in the moments immediately after the attack?
Victim (Mummy): I called out for Daddy of Pok and immediately went to the emergency room. There I was treated for the trauma, it hurt!
Prosecution: Can you describe what the wound looked like?
Victim: Like a cut when a boxer cops a hit to the brow and they have to stop the bout and put on that magic cream thing. It occurred right up here.
Prosecution: The prosecution rests your honour.
Judge: Defendant, what do you have to say?
Defense: Mummy – my want ice cream, that is my truck. Puffing down the track, choo choo.
Judge: In light of this irrefutable evidence, the court finds the defendant guilty! Does the prosecution wish to press charges?
Prosecution: No, we will accept a good behaviour bond.
Defense: What happened Mummy?
Ah, the joys of raising a two year old.
Something for Kiki and the Pok 