Fixed in the Mean Streets of Falls Creek
*editor's note: Satire and Sarcasm, please enjoy*
Life wasn't always easy growing up in a small town. Small town life has it's disadvantages...Sure, we are sheltered on occasion from the crime and drugs that dominate mainstream cities in the US but small towns...they have some mean streets too! Just getting by from one day to the next can be a game of survival here. Trying to fight the system and keep your head above water...who wants to become another casualty. Another struggling GED toting yocal playing softball for the local bar or church league. Hanging out drinking beer at the local fire hall and polishing fire trucks in your spare time. I sure didn't want to end up Hanging out in the "empty lots" and tuning up a Dodge Neon while jamming to Vanilla Ice. No way. It can get bad here. Just like anywhere else.
Just riding a bicycle here can be a hard fought battle in itself. In the town of Falls Creek, we don't even have one stop light! How about that for traffic control? If your not careful you could catch some two ton rubber on your hide and wind up in a pine box! Just the other day, I cut through town and was passed by two cars...damn close. Hooligan for sure man...buzzing stop signs here on the back streets, renegades! Hooligans supreme! That's what I am talking about.
Rivalries exist in the burbs just as they do in the cities. Gun play and drive-bys may not be as prevalent but there are still some differences that sometimes need settled. Sometimes the old fashioned way, head to head! Sharing the roads in tough sometimes...especially the back roads. Sometimes, they aren't fit to squeeze two Honda Civics past each other...Civics...another evil in these small town areas. If you don't keep your nose clean. You'll end up wasting your hard earned $ in decorating one of these shit pies and then cruising with it for local chicks with summer teeth 1 and blue eyes 2.
Tripping into town one day on a fixie cruise. I broke out my Bob Jackson, vintage 1980, for another adventure. Trying to stay out of harm's way and out of the path of evil influence in this town, I headed straight on through...only easing to backpedal once near the post office as a elderly gentleman hobbled across the road toward a $5 haircut. Crazy guy didn't even look!
The Jackson...now the Jackson is equipped with a front and rear brake. I seldom ever use them except when descending some of the hills in my area. Some of the hills can be quite treacherous in grade and speeds on a road bike can easily surpass 50 mph in areas. On this day, I was heading out of the town to a smaller area called Coal Glen. The uphills as you can predict from my description of the downhills are much the same...steep....and thus require gearing of intelligent choice. I use a 39 x 16 on my Jackson. It is a nice spinnable gear just about everywhere...sure you don't get that higher speed push on the flats but on these hills and roads, it is good enough!
A typical summer ride on the fixed will conjure up a assortment of road hazards. Numerous roadkills spot the "trails" and a new adventure in "tar and chipping"3 lurks around every corner. Most of the time, it lurks on that 50 mph downhill directly on the hairpin corners. It's a real treat not to mention the occasional horse "land mine"4 dropped in the shadows on the roads. That 's a freakin blast to use toxic chemicals to remove the tar from your legs and excremented hay from your bike tires. If a cyclists around here shaves his legs...it isn't for aero points, weight savings, or even massages...it's because of this God-forsaken-tar!
So riding here is a fun adventure, riding fixed on some of these uphills is a feat in itself just to make it up...so I don't ride for best times. I ride for fun. Into Coal glen I spin. Up some mean hills and begin the descent. This descent is an easy 40+ on the roadie so I am bearing easily on the brakes today on the fixed. No need to spin out of control or blow a knee or aorta. At the base is a sharp turn then I make a left...into the loose chips at the base of what I call switchback hill.
Beginning the climb, you travel straight up and switchback (thus the name) around a farm...where the evil stairs and cocky comments always seem to flow from the bovine spectators that line the fence to witness your agony as you climb past. today was no different except what lie ahead...there...about a hundred foot up the road. climbing slightly slower than I. The click clack tell tale sign of a competing rival for the road burrows ahead on my route. The Amish!
I mean, these guys have a full horsepower under the hood, a rather good horsepower to weight ratio, the nerve to drop flares as they go down the road to deter their rivals from drafting. They can be a mean bunch. But I am a fixed gear Hooligan and I am damn proud. I have another mile of climbing to reel them in and show them we mean business. I stand and pick up the tempo...feeling like il pirato, I climb with the ferocity of a squirrel running up a greased pole. Dang this hill is steep. I slowly churn ahead...dodging the trailing projectiles that the buggy leaves...churning and muscling my way up alongside.
Gulping in a breath and then looking over, our eyes meet...sure...they smile and nod and say Good day...but you know it is a front. That's ok. I can play this game too. A coy smile and a silent wave leaves my hand and I try and conceal my utter pain and breathless status. looking ahead again, I stand and attack. Pulling ahead I slowly move over and continue up the steady grade not daring to peer back...to do so would only grant them satisfaction. The psychological edge of knowing I am hesitating in my decision and commitment. No...don't look back. Press on. Show them what you are made of...let them know your not one of those beer drinking, firetruck polishing, softball playing high school drop outs typical of this area. Let them know you are a hooligan. An ill tempered vagabond on a bike. An outlaw from the norm and society. A rebel...a hapless soul who is going anaerobic just to try and stay ahead of a horse and buggy before the next hill begins!
Glossary of terms:
Summer teeth - Some teeth are here, some are there.
Blue Eyes - one blew this way, the other blew that way.
tar and chipping - similar to tar and feathering but done of many Pennsylvanian roadways. Chips usually last til first heavy rainfall, tar last until you remove it from your freakin' legs with gas or paint thinner.
horse "land mine" - horse shit
CLARIFICATION:
Falls Creek is actually a quaint little town that indeed has no stop light nor major stores and a population below 1000. Quietly nestled off Interstate 80 it consists of some very nice folks. Outside of falls creek lies many Amish families who are very pleasant hard working people who would bend over backwards to help you. Buggies dot the roadways at times in areas and many of them can be found fishing on the weekends at local Lakes. Summer teeth and blue eyes are not just predominantly found in this area. Most softball players still suck and Honda Civics and Dodge Neons are just cars...nothing more so please don't try and race them. you are just getting in other peoples way of passing you.