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Bikes. Parts. Chaos.

So a few weeks ago Trevor and I were lucky enough to head over the sea and visit some of our riders, dealers and get some riding done and drink a beer or two.

Every time I go out of the country I inherently ready myself for the major differences in culture that I’ll be experiencing; and each time that I do that, I’m struck not by the cultural differences (which I believe are skin deep at best), but more by the personal “sames” that I witness.

As I talk to people about what they do, about what they ride, about what they love and what they hate, it makes me feel like we are far more similar that we would otherwise fess up to.

Sure we all “talk funny” to each other (which makes communication tricky)(not that it wasn’t before, I mean, seriously, how many times a day do you have to “clarify” yourself to someone who is from the same culture, who speaks the same language in the same dialect?), sure we look a bit different (I got made fun of for wearing shorts around town, and wearing “trousers” on my bike)(I’m so weird!!), and sure (ultimately) we are different.

But we’re more the same (at least that’s what I would argue).  We all have wants and desires that are pretty in line: Food, shelter, love, happiness, family, beer, bike rides.  We have, I suppose, different ideas of how we get those things, or how we keep them, or if we even can keep them.  

I’ll stop being a sermonizing hippy about it, and just say that we got to see some friends from last year, which was awesome, and we got to meet some new folks, which was also awesome.  This year we got to ride our bikes a lot more, which kicked ass.  It kicked ass because we got some time in the saddle, and also because we got to ride with so many people.  After I’ve ridden with someone it forever alters my experience of her or him, and I believe, visa versa. It gives us something in common.  Something that means something, or at least something that means something about goofing off on a bike and getting drunk, or something like that.

Okay, I supposed now it’s time for “enough of what I believe” and I’ll show some pictures of the trip.

Trevor and I both rode Ice Cream Trucks the whole trip, and I’ve got to say, beach, sandy single track, muddy single track, dry single track, over hill, over dale, the Ice Cream Truck beat the shit out of all of it!

Front, right side view of a green Surly Krampus bike, leaning on 2 trees of a snowy hill, next to a trail in the woods

Glasses of mixed drinks, sitting on a granite bar top

A group of cyclists and their Surly fat bikes, standing on a sidewalk, on the side of a street with buildings behind

Front view of a blue Salsa fat bike, and a Surly fat bike, with their rear wheels angled in towards each other

A group of cyclists, gathered on a large rock with a blue bike laying next to them, on a cloudy day

A view over a bay, at sunset

Side view of a sign showing, Burgh Properties Limited and TO LET, altered to show TOILET, on a building at night

\Close up, right side view of 2, muddy, blue Surly Ice Cream Truck fat bikes, leaning against other fat bikes

Rear view of a muddy pair of black pants, with a person holding them up from behind, in an interior room

That's what his pants looked like AFTER we ran them through the washer.

Rear view into a van with open back doors, loaded with fat bikes and gear

Two people standing inside of a narrow bike shop

View front the outside of a storefront, with a clown, and Something Surly this way comes, painted on the front window

Left side view of a blue Surly Ice Cream Truck fat bike, on a sidewalk, leaning on the left side of a double decker bus

A view from the inside of a bus with Surly bikes parked sideways and leaning against each other

A view from the top of a hill, overlooking a small lake in the middle of grass hills, with clouds in the sky

Front, close up of a clown head mask, mounted on top of a black base with a Surly patch on it, sitting on  a table

Two children wearing orange t-shirts, sit across from each other on a picnic table, with people and bikes behind them

These were the two kids yelling, "Oy, get a fatbike" at folks who passed our ride.  The begining of a Surly App? Only the great creatrix knows for sure

Right profile of a Surly Pugsley bike, red, parked on front of a garage door - acorn graphics below tires

Next Time:  What the hell happens in a “Surly Meeting.”  (inspired by Matt from Manchester)