Well, hello there. You probably don’t know me. I’m the new guy. FNG to the Surly crew. As I type this I am less than six months into my stay here at Surly Intergalactic HQ and I gotta admit it’s been a gnarly screecher of a hell ride. I’ve been charged with connecting our 4130 steel to the nether regions of this great counties’ people. A new job to Surly, and one that I am more than happy to execute.
I’m a born and raised Yankee. I love the winters here, and I love having all four seasons. The South has always been too damn hot for my tastes. I got nothing against the south, it’s just I don’t deal well with heat. (Think hangry, but with temperature) Don’t get me wrong, summer has its place, but this guy, is a thick blooded-northerner to the core. My ancestors ran the Romans out of Northen Europe during winter. A friend of mine once told me that Minnesota is the Texas of the north. And the more I think about that, I think it’s pretty neat way of thinking about it.
This summer, I saw many miles traveling with Trevor Clayton, my Brother in Steel on some super-secret training mission out West. This fall, however, found me venturing out on my own to the South East on my first solo trip. My new region.
With some thought, I decided to call this little trip The Surly <mis>adventure.
The idea was to gather a bunch of maniacs, rides bikes in an urban/semi urban environment and have fun. Simple, got it. Easy enough, “Go forth and spread the 4130 gospel?” OK Boss, here I go. I bought a mix of the new Krampus, Karate Monkey 27.5+, Ice Cream Trucks, Wednesdays, and some Flat Bar Cross Checks.
And thus, I departed. I partnered with Surly Alumnus, the always venerable Greggers.
Here’s the punk telling me I’m going the wrong way.“I’m pretty sure the skin bar is that way!”
First stop, Halcyon Bike Shop in Nashville. Andrew and the gang over at Halcyon did a great job of setting up the ride route, and convincing people to come hang out with a couple of odd jobs like us. By our hazy account, we had over 50 riders on this stop. We weaved through downtown Nashville, over a beautiful pedestrian bridge and a quick stop at Blackstone Brewery for a couple cold Steveweisers before finishing up our ride back at the shop.
Now, fair reader, this is where things got interesting. As fate would have it, I got sick. Not the food poisoning/scorched Earth-intestine type stuff, but full-tilt boogie allergies/head cold type stuff. I lost my voice, lost my mind, and almost lost my way.
The next day all hoped up on meds, I headed towards Atlanta to Loose Nuts Cycles for the second installment of my <mis>Adventure. Just across the Tennessee/Georgia border, the van broke down. Now to be fair, the van-or as I call it, “The War Rig”, has given us many trouble-free miles in its tenure. Steadfast in its four-wheeled goodness, it's a German engineered-demigod of righteousness, I hold it as a pinnacle of automobile ingenuity. I search, I find a diesel shop, I proceed, slowly. Barely winging the Rig in, I get it diagnosed. Nothing super bad, a cracked air intake hose. No turbo and very little acceleration. We’ll be ok. I get teh part number and schedule maintenance for the next morning. Was I going to let a little head cold and a slight mechanical van issue stop the raging from happening in Atlanta? I think not my friend. The good people of Georgia are counting on me. You can’t stop this steel. With the blessing of the diesel shop, we press on. I apply a generous amount of duct tape over the crack in the air intake hose and fire the Rig up.
En route to Atlanta, I reupped on a few Emergen-C’s and got to Loose Nuts without a moment to lose. The ride went off without a hitch. The Southern warriors of steel went what we Northerners call, “Ape Shit.” Check it out:
We ripped abandoned rail beds, rode through parks, jumped some huge steps, and tore ass though some of Atlanta’s best alleyways. We finally stopped and had our fill of suds at a place called “The Earl”, or as I like to remember it as, “Earl, The Pearl”.
The night concluded with Loose Nuts’ own Chris helping Greggers and myself load the van. High fives were had, stoke level was high considering my state of health and that fact the War Rig almost didn’t make it.
Getting up early to fix the van we headed to Charlotte to meet up with Kevin, Greg, Dread and gang at The Spoke Easy. Here’s a shop that has it all figured out. The shop is located on a quiet side street with a friendly trolley that periodically checks drivers’ parallel parking abilities as it hums up and down the street. Inside, a beautiful shop adorned with all shapes of bikes. A beautiful assortment of Surly goodness is had on one side of the floor space and the other, sits a full-length bar with a small wall mounted TV playing muted, subtitled reruns of Bob’s Burger’s. (Aaand, just lemme just have a seat!)
After we parked the Rig out of striking distance of the trolley, we doled out the 4130 and got down to business. Charlotte has a beautiful greenway that runs along what either is the Little Sugar Creek or the Briar Creek. Whichever it was, it was an amazing way to view the city. Especially when we climbed up and out of downtown and stopped at our main beer stop, a secret secluded “city park” of sorts. Here, we could view a bit of the city downtown, imbibe our sport drinks in darkness and enjoy each other’s company. My playlist ran its course of selected 90’s thrash metal, and we headed back to Spoke easy for last call.
From Spoke Easy we headed to the first annual Cyclofest. This was a new venue for us, which turned out some great views, great trails and great companionship:
Having already spent a few months aboard a Karate Monkey 27.5+, I got my real first taste of the new Krampus riding the trail system surrounding the US Olympic White Water Training facility, the housing site for Cyclofest. I can’t say enough good things about these bikes. Updated geo, updated wheel compatibility, and endless options for goofing off with your friends in the woods with the form of fork mounts and bike-pack compatibility galore.
Here’s Greggers, putting the Krampus to good use.
After four days of Cyclofesting, we finally departed Cyclofest. From here, I had but one final stop to make-Oak City Cycling Project, in Raleigh (RAW-lee). Like the other urban <mis> adventures, this one did not disappoint. Departing the shop after eating what I think was the biggest pizza I have ever seen, we found ourselves cruising the rolling landscape that is Raleigh. For those of you have never been, Raleigh is like an unending urban roller coaster of hills. So much fun to commute because there’s always some coasting for my tired ass after each climb. Being in town right before Halloween, Jared from Oak City led us to a “festive” home where we posed for a family portrait. The house was what I can only describe as a Griswold-esque Halloween front yard nightmare. In front of this jokers’ house everyone posed for a photo. As I readied my camera phone I asked to the ride crew, “Middle Fingers or thumbs up, pick one.” This resident psycho jumps out of the giant clown mouth with one of those, "I'm goign to get shot by a conceal-and-carry angry Dad"-evil clown costumes. I wasn’t scared, I Swear. I wasn’t even mad.I was just glad that I didn’t shit my pants. For the record, I hate clowns more than Michael Oliver in Problem Child. We ended up asking dude to join in the picture where he presented his birds-akimbo. Well done sir.
After saying good byes to Jared and crew. I departed Raleigh, and my <mis>adventure concluded with a quick stop say high to a friend in Asheville, and a quick ride up Kitsuma trail in Pisgah.
A few months ago, Mom and Dad leant me the keys to the station wagon. I’ve been lucky enough to be given a chance to show people what we are all about. I’ve seen some beautiful views along the way and met some pretty awesome people doing good things for other good people. I’m pretty darn excited to have the opportunity to see more of this country as I do my work. Consider this my introduction.
Surly means a lot of things to a lot of people. It means a lot to me. At its core, Surly is a brand for the people. You don’t need to don a super hero costume to ride one of our bikes. our riders are super heroes. Our uniform is but a silly grin and a sense of humor. The people you see in the photos above are perfect example of what’s right with this mantra. My time in the South East left me with a greater impression of the people of that area than I ever had. Everyone down to the mechanics I shot the breeze with while my van was being looked at were, at the very least, good to great people. Even through difficult times, these people made me laugh and reassured me the there’s a lot of good out there. Sometimes you just need a little mis-adventure to see and hear it.
You’ll be noticing a lot more more Surly out in the world. We are the road crew.
See you out there, Space Cowboy.