Apologies for the radio silence...the job hunt has been all-consuming but I'll be back soon!
Especially because I did this this past weekend...
Thanks to Tom at Superb for packing my track baby with so much care!
lobsters and hogs
At family gatherings, I usually sat at the “kids’ table.” This usually consisted of me and my sister, plus the few cousins that could still relate to us. Given that my mom - the youngest in her family - pushed me out when she was 37, this meant that aforementioned cousins were at least 11 years older than I was. The kids’ table [or “the young people’s table” as it was later called] was fun for my sister and I, but looking back, I’m impressed that my cousins were able to even carry on a conversation with us. With the exception of cyclists, I find it difficult to talk to anyone who is over 3 years younger than I am. Toddlers and babies just make me awkward. I’ll point and pull sleeves of friends and say how cute they are, but when people give them to me to hold, I tense up. I’m deathly afraid of dropping the child or not holding him/her right or doing something wrong which will enrage the parent and result in them slapping me.
Which is why when Mike told me I could sit at the “kids’ table” at his family’s annual Lobsterfest, I muttered something like “um, nevermind” and found something busy to do. I imagined the scenario that unfolds before me when my mother has threatened the same thing: me sitting at a separate small table with my cousin’s 6 year old tyrant of a son, getting abused by a toy train or verbal abuse that’s meant to be funny but is just annoying, until I snap and then he cries to his mother who probably wouldn’t really care but everyone else will remember it forever and judge me by it, including my own mother. But hey, Mike’s American. That means he has loving, accepting, nonjudgmental parents [this is true]. The kind that dispenses hugs and stuff. And the hugs are of the cute, warm variety, not the stiff, awkward ones I’m forced into when my sister tries it.
So I agreed to go. Even with the threat of being dumped at a separate table with small children whom I wouldn’t know how to talk to [what are they even into these days?]. But again, these are American children, which means they are adorable. And have blue eyes. I even got to hold one. And no, I wasn’t there as the Asian nanny.
I didn't even drop the baby! A few minutes after I relinquished him to his mother, as more family members and their respective children filtered in, Mike offered to walk his mother’s new Specialized Ruby Elite [with 105] out to the garage. She said I could try it out, and I got to ride my first ever women’s specific CF bike.
It’s a 48cm, but easily fits my towering height of 5’2.5 [Mike’s mother is about 5’1]. Despite what everyone says about CF, this bike felt solid, like there was something there. It accelerates well [even in my Vans on clipless pedals], and although I only took it out on a quick spin, I bet it’s an awesome bike to take out on longer rides. Pedaling up the driveway, Mike appeared beside me on his father’s new Specialized Roubaix, another CF bike. With a fairly minimal paint job, the raw carbon of the Roubaix makes the bike look like the equivalent of a muscle car: fast and strong. The two bikes together make for an impressive pair and Specialized moved up on my list of wish bikes. I’d totally get one if Velo carried them [ahem!].
But then I rode this, and my life changed.
JUST KIDDING. And yes, that’s a Harley.
Then, as we were finishing up playing outside, food started coming out. Cheese, crackers, and fruit in the kitchen, steamers on the stove top and after we swung by the fish market in Mike’s father’s truck [I got to ride in a truck! Oh man, I love trucks!], lobsters. A big boxful of lobsters. We attacked them after we stuffed our faces full of steamers and after I ripped that crustacean apart, I was just about ready for a mid-feast nap. Mike and I just sat there for a while, feeling full and/or pregnant with food babies, staring at our swollen stomachs, until the entire family got together for the annual photo meticulously staged and taken by Mike’s father, Gene.
Then there was dessert. Oh yes the Spriggs like their dessert. I saw the cake on the table and silently thanked Mike and Cassidy for making me ride as much as I did last week. Then I grabbed a fork and ate a big chunk of that thing. I mean, it said “Mike/Rapha” and “Kaiko, JD.” WHY ARE AMERICANS SO CUTE AND NICE???
So after that, I went into a diabetic coma and had to be carried to the car and rolled home. But not before we flipped through the Winning magazines that Mike's uncle, Andy, brought for him [he had saved all but the first three issues]. We laughed at the awesomely 80s ads, and kept pointing things out to each other. It's a treasure trove of design ideas and just good cycling stuff in general. At least half of the issues featured some kind of pro female cyclist, too, which was definitely cool and appreciated.
Before I got into the car, I think I said something about how I have to ride and all that but that coma lasted well into Monday. But that’s okay, there’s always tonight, and tomorrow, rollers in my room, and from what the Internet tells me, Thursday Trick Nights at Superb...! So that whole fitness thing might win out over the whole flabbiness thing. Might.
nerding out
My entire extended family is cursed with the whole "unable to see clearly" thing. Literally. Family dinners will easily result in every single person wearing a pair of glasses. Once that fact sinks in, it's up to the ones who can sort of see to take one for the team and self-consciously take off their specs. Then we all pretend that we're not all blind.
It's a little embarrassing for all involved when caught in those situations. But Tuesday night, I was with a group of pretty cool people and we were all wearing glasses. And it was awesome.
To be honest, I'm still not sure what Jeremy Dunn and Slate were doing in town, but they were in Boston and suggested meeting up at Superb. Not one to say no to anything bike-related, I jumped on the track bike and made my way to my favorite Boston shop. It's been too long since I've actually just hung out; I was like hey, how do I do this again...?
But of course, not to worry, as the company took any self-imposed obligation to entertain off my shoulders. We hung out in Superb until closing, "covered" for Jason when he had to make some repairs by standing around and chatting, took pictures of each other, and shared tidbits of our respective lives.
I'd like to say that our collective awesome resulted in some mind-blowing stuff. Like we started making fashionable bikes out of our bare hands or something. But like the Clark Kent/Superman dichotomy, the superhero can only come out every so often, and we have events to save that up for. So we Clark Kent-ed by opting for chill beers, Kobe beef hotdogs [for the omnis], and fun times at Aubudon. There was iPhone-age and mucho twittering involved. And with a cell phone that can only 1. make phone calls, 2. take grainy pictures, and 3. text, I had some serious phone envy. And then PVB showed up, raising the IQ level of the table by about 100.
It was getting late too fast and with a 8.30am class for which I hadn't quite done the work, we went our separate ways after a few beers [for the guys; fear of riding my track bike drunk had me sticking to Diet Coke...I AM SUCH A VEGAN TEETOTALER, I KNOW]. It was getting cold, and without a hat, my ears were freezing. The sensation seemed almost surreal.
Talking bikes - even though it was only for 2 hours - makes it seem like spring is just around the corner...
a superb elite [party]
It's Friday night, and there's a hand sneaking in between my legs. Fingers brush my inner thigh as I squeal and giggle.
I wasn't tipsy at all. Just a little drunk off adrenaline from the Superb Grand Opening party.
I had cleared my schedule weeks in advance for this party [and not only because cassette was a sponsor]. With a Fuji Feather being given away, who wouldn't? But there was also the promise of "fraternaliz[ing] with Boston's cycling elite." And knowing Superb was going to fully deliver on that promise, it's a party I wasn't going to miss.
Arriving close to an hour after the doors opened, the place was already packed. Bikes lined both sides of the new shop, and people had spilled out onto the sidewalk. Squeezing our bikes into a narrow open space and locking them up, M1 and I ran into none other than Mr. Igleheart, the awesomely friendly framebuilder behind those delicious bikes that "ride like butter" [I wasn't kidding when I told him that I was saving up for one of his frames]. And as I turned around, ready to elbow my way into the shop, I waved hello to Marty of Geekhouse. This was going to be a really good party.
Inside, people swirled around the central display of bikes underneath the chandelier. There was a wave and thumbs up exchange between myself and Tyler of IF, an introduction to James of Revolution Bicycle Repair [he and M1 worked downtown together back in the day], and quick hellos to Croth and Kip. Lucas Brunelle was sighted, as was Joe of Sugar Coat and Geekhouse, and of course, all the hot Asian girls of Cambridge Bikes. Jason, the mastermind behind Superb, clearly delivered on his promise, and more.
Good beats streamed from the speakers as people moved around the room. Stepping outside to check on our bikes and cool off, another Boston cycling persona, Natasha of Pedal Power Photography, rolled up. In great company, we checked out the array of bicycles entered into the "Hot Bike Contest." The contestants varied from a slick Specialized to a swoon-worthy vintage Pinarello pursuit frame with a tri-color, glittery paint job. While I regretted not riding the Dolan in, even with its new fall/winter 2009 look [coming soon!], a part of me knew that it probably wouldn't have stood a chance with this kind of competition.
But I did take part in another kind of contest: $3 got Team Cassette 5 tickets into the raffle. With fingers crossed that we'd win something a Fuji Feather, we checked out the rest of the prizes and ate up some of Jason's time before we reluctantly headed out the door for a friend's birthday party. It was early, the party was still in full swing, but I didn't feel lame leaving. Superb tends to have that effect; there's no insecure pre-judgment of those who walk in the door, but you better be prepared to walk out feeling not only cooler but also like you've just managed to infiltrate Boston's decidedly unpretentious cycling elite.
Which would explain the big smile on my face as I rolled away from 842 Beacon Street, despite my early departure. Thighs even pumped harder as we sped around taxis in Friday night traffic, spinning wheels and pedals to the next scheduled event of the night. And on the way, that hand. My palms seared with cold nervous sweat in response.
"Got it," M1 said as he drew up next to me.
I relaxed as we surged up a hill - no longer needing to hold a motionless line - mashing en danseuse on the pedals, secure in the knowledge that the Knog Beetle on my seatpost was now diligently blinking red.
[More pictures of the event here.]
clandestine chandeliers
Sharing is caring, I know. But sometimes, I'm tempted to keep certain things to myself. Like those gems of whatever that you discover, and then hide away, at least for a little while, while you weigh who you'll let in on your little secret, and in what order.
The irony being that I don't really consider myself good at keeping secrets. Especially when they're good secrets.
Like the addicting soul of Eli Paperboy Reed & The True Loves that's been streaming out of my speakers for the past few days [not clicking on those links is your loss, so I'm not even going to demand you check them out]. Sure they've been around for a while...but with music like this coming from homey little Boston, and the NACCCs starting today, I feel just a little bit obligated to share this little gem.
And there's something else, too. And it's called Superb.
Conceived by Jason, it's the stunningly hip extension of Cambridge Bicycle's track bike boutique. The website went live earlier this summer, but it's the space that I want to talk about. The plans for it are unbelievable, and I've had the good fortune of peeking into the space [formerly that of Boston Bicycle] every few weeks and watching the whirlwind transformation. Gold and teal ceilings, custom damask, plans for a display that will blow your mind, and chandeliers.
I'll let you in on another secret, too. Jason was one of the first to know about cassette before her official launch, and when I dragged M1 to the space a few weeks back, it ended in a few iced americanos...and an idea.
A collaboration t-shirt between Superb and cassette, the idea was sketched out within 24 hours of that meeting, delivered to M1 and the concept finalized between 2 to 3am on a Sunday night and the hour before I boarded a bus back to Boston on Monday morning. The shirts were printed, cured, and mailed within 48 hours [did I mention we work fast?]. And just in time, too. Because with couriers from all across North America flooding the city, Superb is a destination spot, and then some.
Which is probably why I can't keep the fact that it's amazing and going to be totally awesome a secret. All exacerbated by the fact that late Tuesday night, M1 sent me an iphone shot of a test Superb shirt. I nearly screamed in excitement before reaching for the phone, the only words I could form being "dude...dude...that shirt...oh my god..."
"Yeah," he replied, "I want to sort of steal one."
And there you have it. Proof that it's a good one. And therefore a secret I am incapable of keeping. Want one? Stop by Superb...and make sure you say hi, too!
[And yes, it's Rapha Scarf Friday again...]
superbly hot
I'm really good at making faces.
You might not think it if you just met me. Or maybe you would. In any case, my Mom hates it. Which makes me just do it more, until, finally unable to hold in her laughter, she'll watch me contort my face with a mixture of disgust and amazement and say:
"You keep doing that and your face is permanently going to stay that way."
She might be right. At least about crinkling my nose too much.
But I have friends who are looking out for me, clearly. Because while I never tend to wear my own cycling caps, I'm building up an interesting collection via friends. And they're shielding my face and eyes from sun, wind, and crows feet. And for someone who habitually forgets to slather on the sunscreen, that's love.
So when yesterday turned out to be one of the sunniest in weeks [Jason apparently schemed with the weather for months to make that happen - thanks!], I was grateful that I was wearing one. Well, I've been wearing this one for a few days now, and for good reason.
It's the new Superb cycling cap.
Designed by both Jason and Croth, this hat is all about the details. The wallpaper background, when viewed from a few feet back, looks like innocent damask. But when you get close enough [to check out the person wearing it], you notice the bicycles and the subtle curves and flicks in the logo.
And then you get a little bit closer [because, please, anyone wearing this is guaranteed to be hot], and you see the underside of the brim. Teal or purple, it's a hidden sort of hip; the kind you don't need to flaunt for people to know you have it. But if you're the one doing the attracting, well, it wouldn't hurt to turn it up a notch and flip up that brim.
But no analysis of a potential mate is ever complete without a view from the back. And that's when this hat really works to your advantage. With "Boston" emblazoned on the back, you'll know where to find this hottie [or at least where to hang out to find such hotties]. And if you're the one wearing it, even better. You can still give the sexy look over your shoulder and saunter away into the crowd; because, come on, anyone with decent game can take a hint and at least try to break the ice with banter about the Bosox.
Lucky for you, this hat dropped yesterday. Check it - and the rest of Superb - out.