By Joe Kurmaskie Alejandro Alverez had a way of moving a bicycle through space so effortlessly that, even though I stood half a foot taller than him, he dwarfed me with his skills. My friend from Monterrey, Mexico rode like it was the first AND last time he might own a pair of legs. I […]
By Joe “Metal Cowboy” Kurmaskie I’m just another traveller On another winding road I’m trying to walk some kind of line I’m trying to pull some kind of load. -Marc Cohn All explorers are convinced that there is something wonderful still to be found on this earth. I discovered that when the canyon is deep […]
That was Tom feckin’ Petty leaning against the bar with his sweaty, contorted cowboy hat pulled low, drinking a beer from Texas.
I lean the bicycle against a massive column. The main building is southern gothic plantation architecture. My backpack is heavy with mass-market tenth and eleventh editions, and used at that so Mr. McDonald didn’t see a dime from my recent purchases. I wait at the door. The surveillance cameras must be well hidden. I wait some more.
Winter commuting by bicycle; cold, wet, quiet mornings, just the sound of water slicking the fenders and one or more of my sons sniffling back a runny nose and asking me, from the back of the bike, about why only some of the geese have flown fly south by January. Sometimes the ride feels like that scene from Twelve Monkeys, when the Bruce Willis character comes up to the surface and finds snow and silence. There are still clashes between cars and riders trying to share the road, but winter seems to lower the frequency and intensity.
Having made the voluntary choice of weekend only access to a car, it’s also, at times, a harsh reality. Wind, rain, sleet, hail, sleety/hail, sideways rain, it doesn’t matter and it doesn’t last.
All I really need to know about how to navigate life starts and ends with the soothing meditations of a perfectly timed cadence. Here’s what I’ve learned at the University of Brooks and a few field courses at the College of Campy
By Joe Kurmaskie Speaking around the country about all things bike related has given me a few insights about where our communities stand in the evolution towards bike friendly Valhalla – we’re talking scalable, livable places where anyone can roll two wheels out the front door without fear… or requesting combat pay. Where a mix […]
As a college sophomore and member of Drexel’s Cycling Team, Doug was training on Lancaster Avenue in Philadelphia when a pickup truck pulling an ATV plowed into him. The driver fled the scene and left Doug alone and seriously injured. He doesn’t know how long he was in the street before help came.
The New York Times writes about Portland, Oregon as if it were always a two wheeled OZ, a place where cyclists, lost out in the urban wilderness, could simply click their clipless heels and be back at home in the saddle.