Faith revolution: A long overdue "thank you"

As we packed up the M5 and prepared to strike out into the dark Tennessee night, my brother said something that has stuck with me. In saying our goodbyes to Curtis, Coop said "Thanks for making my little brother's dreams come true. And thanks for restoring my faith in humanity. I have to admit, I was a little wary when he first said he wanted to fly across the country and buy a car, but you have shown us how awesome people can be." I've been meaning to write a post about Curtis, the seller of what is now my car, for quite a while. But things pop up; first it was the journey itself, followed by the recent whirlwind of moving for the first time in 2 years, all while trying to get the M5 up to smogging standards. But more than enough time has passed, and I want to say "Thank You, Curtis."

The initial suggestion on MyE28.com to investigate the clean, reasonably-priced M5 in Tennessee seemed like any of my normal internet-based car searches: daydreams and wishes, wishes and daydreams. I was fresh off having an M5 so close I could taste it. It was local, it had 30k on a rebuilt engine, and I drove it. Hoowee, that sound, how could I say no to that? But it had plenty of blemishes, enough to make me pull myself from the tractor beam and into reality. If I was going to spend the money on my dream car, I knew damn well I had to do it right. But still, how the hell was I going to get a car that was over 2,000 miles away?

I toyed with the idea a little, mostly creating hypothetical possibilities with large amounts of skepticism. How does one ship a car? How do you know it is as it looks on the internet? How do you know that, despite the vouching of people who seem to have credible followings and trust on a most specific internet community, the guy isn't going to screw you over? How do you send money across the country safely? At the bottom of it all, how do you trust someone on the internet?

Well, Curtis was the man to put those worries to rest. I emailed him regarding his car. It was still for sale. He wanted to talk on the phone about it, so we connected. Over the course of several conversations about the cars, and several hours swimming in car-nerd talk, I got the distinct feeling that this guy loved this car. He loved it so much that he didn't really want to sell it, and he held such an interest in getting it to a good owner that he didn't care that he was getting far less than he had put into it. He could list the work put into it with such detail, often repeated casually in different discussions, that it became clear the car was real and his intentions were good. He offered to help take care of a few remaining issues he wanted fixed and split the cost with me, got a stereo installed for the trip back, and just generally held up more than his end of the bargain.

After documenting my journey, someone on MyE28 messaged me and asked about how to be sure of buying a car long-distance. It was hard to respond, because basically I wouldn't recommend doing what I did. Serendipitously, I found a seller who was a genuinely good person and held the rare quality of caring that I came out of the deal happy as well. I will forever be grateful to Curtis for his kindness and generosity. I don't think there are too many people out there like that, but then again, Curtis has affirmed that there are some people out there like that, and that's a good start.

Wee wee wee all the way home

After the long road west, a restful Thanksgiving week in LA was much-needed. Plenty of stories to come on this including failed smog tests, backwards tires, swimming in the ocean in November and charging up Big Sur. With work and moving to a new home looming tomorrow, those stories will have to wait. For now, hopefully some pictures will do.

Made it!

Landed in Manhattan Beach, CA. Stoked.

33 hours of driving, 2100 miles, and lots of memories. More later.

Californiaaaaaaaa

We have reached California! Woke up a little before 6 in Show Low. Turns out to be a card reference, as the 100,000 acre ranch it was in the 19th century was won in a bet to "show low," and one guy pulled the 2 of clubs, hence the main streets cumbersome name of "Deuce of Clubs." Grabbed some hotel breakfast and hit the road. Our hopes of fun twisties off the bat were thwarted by rain and eventually, and unexpectedly, a little snow on the road. Got past it though, and the descent from the plateau was truly gorgeous, highlighted by one of the best rainbows I've ever seen, at points it was even the mythical (or is that meme-able?) DOUBLE RAINBOW. All the way. The great scenery continued with great mountains and lots of cacti. Then a good chunk of desert once was were out of Phoenix, and we are still cruising on the long, straight desert roads of I-10, just now in California. Feels good to be back.

One funny anomaly in the trip was the realization today that the odometer isn't working quite right, and is ticking miles about 25% slower than actual miles covered. This was at first distressing as I wondered how long that's been going on and how that could affect the cars showed lifetime mileage. After informing Curtis though, it sounds like it may be from a recent sensor replacement when the brakes were replaced and it should be sortable once I get home. On the plus side, it means we actually covered more like 1600 miles yesterday in 24 hours, and accordingly our gas mileage is significantly better than we thought While it's no hybrid, the mileage is now within the range of quite acceptable, as opposed to "ehhh... Sorry earth."

Anyways, onwards to LA, and we can't believe we're going to make it there early this afternoon. The car is still a true joy to drive. Having this road trip to get to know it has been fantastic. We're still getting acquainted, but are much closer now than if I just picked it up and started driving it in my normal life. That said, I think having it day-to-day is going to feel really special, and I look forward to having it and Truck-E meet and hang out.

24 Hours, 1600 miles.

Holy cow. We made it. Well, we made it to a stopping point at least. We're crashing in Show Low, Arizona. Despite the weird name, it offered a good hotel just across the New Mexico border, and is just before a great mountain drive we're going to take in the morning.

We're exhausted. I wasn't able to sleep very well in the car, so I think I totalled about 3 hours of sleep. That said, it was a hell of a ride, and charging it is always fun. The Car performed beautifully, and as Coop said after filling it up before checking in at the hotel, "It's funny that after 24 hours, it's still really fun to sit in this car."

A brief rundown of the hell of a day we just had. After meeting Curtis at the airport, we went back to his place and went over the Car for a while. His attention to detail is mind-blowing and is a large part of why I was so confident in buying this car. More on that later. Anyways, he showed us around the Car and all of the spare parts he's amassed. He started up his E39 M5 for us as well, which is another great black beast. Once we couldn't really think of anything else to go over, Coop and I declined Curtis' gracious offer to stay and opted to get on the road and have some fun. Checking out a little after 8pm, we stopped at a gas station, filled up the tires, and headed onto the unknown roads of Tennessee. Tennessee quickly led to Arkansas.

We didn't see much of these first states with it being so dark, but we did see some serious lightning and rain through Arkansas. Oklahoma was similar, though we stopped at the Oklahoma City Memorial, a site that had left an impression on me earlier this fall. It was equally impressive early in the morning, and we were glad we stopped.

Oklahoma went by uneventfully after that, and then it was Texas. Oh, Texas. The coolest part about Texas was seeing some people on a bike ride across the country, and then getting out of Texas. 

After Texas comes New Mexico, which was fun in that we got off of I-40 on the recommendation of another MyE28 member and got on some great 2-lane highway backroads. It got a bit tedious still, and my inability to sleep caught up with me and made me start to feel pretty wonky. It all culminated with an incredible sunset at the Continental Divide, about 6,000 feet up. Truly mind blowing and the pictures don't do it justice. We were having a good time.

Coop made the final push through New Mexico and we landed a bit across the Arizona border in the aforementioned and oddly-named Show Low. Grabbed some food and a hotel room, hopped in the pool and then a shower to wash off a couple days of traveling, and now it's time to rest before we start it up again tomorrow. Our efforts today should pay off in making tomorrow nearly 1/3 of the driving time and landing in Manhattan Beach a day early. It was one hell of a push and I've never gone for 24 hours straight, but I'm so glad to be in Arizona tonight as opposed to Oklahoma, and every time I look at the car I can't believe I own it. 

Miscellaneous and out-of-order slideshow:

Devouring the road, all day, all night, wtf?

"I want to find a roadkill jackalope and keep it." - Cooper Rooks

It's 9am, and we've only stopped for gas, food, and driving switched since 8pm last night. Our initial aspirations of healthy roadtripping were eschewed in the face of limited breakfast options in Nowhereland, Oklahoma, and stopped for McDonalds. Plus sides: mcmuffins are delicious, and they had wifi through which we downloaded some interesting podcasts (This American Life, How Unimogs Work, etc.). Downsides: bathroom stops will probably increase. Back on the road though, charging through Oklahoma and nearing Texas, hoping to get through a good chunk of New Mexico today. Just checked the map, 38 miles left of OK, and less than 200 miles of Texass.

The Car is amazing. Pulls forever, drives easy but delightfully, is comfortable and constantly reminds me how funky and awesome it is. As warned, the gas gauge sinks solidly, a combination of small gas tank and a 3.5-liter inline-6 race engine. It doesn't get much worse gas mileage than the Toyota truck though, and the flip side is the miles click away deceptively fast.

New Mexico will bring a welcome departure from I-40 thanks to some recommendations from the same guy that got me in touch with Curtis on MyE28.com. Should be some curvy roads to explore the handling of the car, now that we've familiarized itself with its absolute domination of highway miles.

As of now, it looks like we may just keep ok charging. It's too much fun, too easy to gobble up miles, and having an extra day to spend with our aunt, uncle and cousin in LA sounds awesome. For now, I'm going to take a nap as I can feel the stress of an all-night drive weighing heavy on my body.

"This thing is so much fun to drive." -Cooper Rooks

Goodbye Tennessee, first driving switch

Crossed the Mississippi river into Arkansas and made our first driving switch. The car is doing great so far and I become a little more encamped with each mile that passes. Coop got some rest for a couple hours, maybe my turn soon. Just put on Neil Young's "Harvest Moon," a good cruising album that always reminds me of falling asleep at my dad's house.

Want to recount our time with Curtis, but would rather do so on the computer, not dorky phone blogger.

Cruising time.

Full tank of gas, 2000 miles to LA, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. Hit it.

Had a great chat with Curtis and now we're on the road. More details later.

The journey before the journey

Sitting in Chicago O'hare, I am weary of this penultimate journey. Planes are much less fun than sports cars, as I was reminded with the Windy City living up to its nickname as the entire plane nearly tossed up breakfast amongst children's screams alternating joy and terror. While the light at the end of the tunnel is bright, I have been mentally readying myself for this trip for weeks (months? years? decades?) and it's time to have the Car in my possession. Similar to the build-up of applying to college, standing on the precipice of achieving a life-long dream can play some weird tricks on a person. Self-defense mode kicks in, and the goal can seem silly, inconsequential, or unnecessary. Just as Stanford turned out to be everything I had dreamed of and more, I have little doubt that the M5 is going to be amazing in ways I can't even imagine. My brain and heart are just tired of thinking about it; time to DO.

My time-confused stint in Chicago has been fine though, with funny occurrences like finding an automatic toilet-seat covering system, seeing the crazy light displays I remember from my one other ORD stop when I was in elementary school, and enjoying some of the impressively fantsy food.

That's all fine, but getting the obligatory car magazine at Hudson News only served to remind me of the object of my mission and my desire to achieve it rather than ponder it. The 5th generation of the BMW M5 graces the cover, with the feature revealing it as another impressive "advancement" of the model, with continued unfortunate side-effects of electronic interference and weight. A nice reminder of how pure the original is, an how much I want to be driving it.

It is 4am, and I am stoked

Pretty quiet on the roads at 4am on a Saturday. Pretty quiet in my head too. Mostly I can't believe today is here. Ready to do this, and excited to see Coop. Eloquence is hard to come by, airport time.

Two revs at the SAME TIME

Big day today, with significant progress made towards both of my current revolutions, the new house and the new car. I turned in the lease for our new place, and went to the DMV and got a one-trip permit to drive the M5 home from TN. I was really nervous about the latter because there was conflicting information regarding how the permit would work out, but the permit showed up in the mail at 11:30am, and it all worked. Made the 2 hours sitting at the DMV anxiously totally worth it.

4 days. The response to my thread about the trip has been awesome on MyE28.com, with some amazing tips and support for both the purchase and the road trip. One guy read my summary of why I want the M5 on this blog and said it reminded him of the following story of another E28 M5 purchase, which I liked a lot and thought was worth reposting here. Read if you have some time.

Hey, so I bought one of these things a few weeks ago, I’ve been driving it around a little bit, dropping in the forums here and there and, along with my wife and my friends, asking myself “what the hell am I thinking with this old car?”  

Because the BMW E28 M5 is a silly car. Perhaps it was superlative when it was new but now it is a machine that time has left behind. It has a motor that isn’t particularly strong, (our family grocery getter, an XC 90 has more ponies, as they like to say in the auto writing world) it doesn’t go very fast, a new Toyota Camry can keep up, it isn’t particularly well built or appointed (again see the Camry example), it is loud and it rides like a forklift.  

Despite all this is seems to have acquired a small following, which now that I am part of, that might warrant some mention. And since I’ve been out shopping for one recently and in contact with a number of owners, I wonder if I’m in as good a position as anyone to comment on who owns these cars here in the summer of 2006. My biases are shaped by only being in touch with those who want to sell their cars and those who communicate on line; still I think a picture emerges.   

First off, this is a car that is owned by men, and primarily men age 30 to 45. One can speculate as to why, I wonder if younger men, generally, don’t have enough money for a cash drain like this and older ones have lost the burn, are selling out and, quite possibility, have wised up. As for a women, you are as likely to find a women talking about the chassis serial number, valve clearances and rims on her M5 as find one stuffing dollar bills in the G-string of an exotic dancer or entering the freshmen class at with. There is negligible gender cross over this car because this is a mechanical car, a linier car, a hierarchical car in the extreme and so far as I can tell it is only men with their mechanical, linier and hierarchical minds who are interested. 

So what men bite? The first general classification that appears to a buyer is the division between those who can afford the car and its upkeep and those who can’t. Since the cars trade hands for less than a new Hyundai, around 10K, a fair amount of them end up in the hands of people who aren’t ready for the upkeep bills. In the can afford category seem to be a lot of engineers and financial services types.  

The financial services guys are the ones who put their cars on e-bay photographed next to pictures of their E60's or who, like the guy I bought mine from, meet you at the airport in a new E55 AMG and are wistfully having you help them clean out their garage. These guys, like most guys who make a living selling bonds, trading currency or shorting coal have their limitations. They seem to own the cars as conversation pieces, ego boosts or a way to be different, however, in the distraction that too-much-resources creates, I’m not sure how much traction the machines gain upon their imagination. The ones who I talk to seem to have a limited understanding of the cars and they seem to take a limited hold of them. A telling comment from the guy who sold it to me was “Last week I’d left the E55 home was driving the M5 when I got stuck in traffic. I got off the freeway and cut through the Oakland hills to get home. God that was great, I’d forgotten how much fun the car is to drive.” What didn’t occur to him is to leave the E55 home every day in order to the cut through the Oakland hills, instead he was selling it to me and showing the guys at the office how big the 2005 bonus was by what was in his parking space. Each to their own.  

The engineers are in a different class. They know and understand the cars, they are the bedrocks of forums and thank God for them. Not a few of them seem to have traded in there Star Trek based obsession with which episode Kirk escaped Kingon armada with phasar enigmon 11 (or was it phaser enigmon 12) and debating weather Hulk could take The Thing in a fair fight with obsessing about the model numbers, build dates, and engine oil options. This is great, that’s why they are engineers they take wonderful care of the cars and thank God for them.  

The second major category of owners, at least from the point of view of this buyer, is those who can’t afford the cars. They also break down into two categories. First are those who think it’s neat to have an old black BMW that goes fast but don’t know much else. You don’t find these people on the forums but bump into them as they try to sell. They are clueless, they are not sure what they own, their cars have become beaters and they are to be avoided by the buyer.  

The last group of people who can barely afford their cars and are either looking to sell or are forgoing milk for the children in order to buy another quart of synthetic oil are the owners I like the most. They are the ones hanging in by will, grit and intelligence. They are all over these forums, thoughtful, restrained and quietly passionate. These are the men like the fellow who posted his experience changing out his timing chain. I bit my fingers as I read about how, after two days of trying, he finally got the dampner retaining nut off the shaft with a Dremal tool and nearly clapped when I read how after the job the car started up, the rattle came out of the chain as the tensioner kicked in the car has now gone 600 miles without a hitch. These guys are self-educated mechanics, resourceful and gutsy. They are the heirs to the men who staggered up the Plains of Abraham to attack the British garrison at Quebec, their grandfathers came off the farm, cursed Patton blue and kept the third Army’s tanks on line and barreling toward the Rhine. I’m proud to join them in this minor endeavor.  

But why? As Paul DeWitt started to attempt to articulate but eventually broke off, why care at all about these 20 year-old boxy, out dated cars?  

First of all, they’re better looking than you think they are. It’s obvious that their shape is in a different category than the ubiquitous, Chris Bangle inspired, rounded automobiles that the wind tunnels and friction coefficients have bent almost everything on four wheels into over the last 15 years. (Although there is starting to be a backlash, see the new Mustang and Charger). But different how? As far as I can tell the shape of the e28 emerged in the mid-seventies and its design language is rooted firmly in the Bauhaus where bold clear geometry was intended to convey strength and integrity. However the E28s save themselves from being Volvo 240s or Mercedes 300s by Marcello Gabrilini's brilliant slight swoop of the hood and that quirky, vaguely menacing backslash of the front grill. They are not quite graceful but not dull either and the tension between the box of the back end and the slant of the front is continually interesting. 

Beyond looks there is balance. Again, the motor isn’t that big, the tires aren’t that wide, the car isn’t that quick, the interior is that lux, however, like good wine, skillful diplomacy or a healthy marriage, this endeavor keeps its elements in balance. In a distinctly West German way I find that the motor, suspension, brakes and driver environment work together in harmony in the e28 M5, something like the tannins, oak, alcohol and grape work together in well executed wine. Therefore every drive, like every sip is a potential joy. Every time I’m in the car, particularly after being in new cars in it’s class (there are no older ones) I’m struck by how well all the systems dance together, how tight the car feels and how even for me, a guy who has been living in Manhattan and hasn’t driven regularly for 8 years, the car is cleanly responsive to my instructions.  

Finally there is great pleasure to be taken in the age of these cars. 20 years is a long, long time for a complex machine to run in harsh environment and anyone who has an old complex machine that is running well knows that only a magical mix of luck, and the focused labor or dozens of men working dozens hours has made the experience possible. Every experience in an old car is refracted through this luck and labor and is richer because of it.  

I didn’t really know any of this a month ago when I decided to get the car, though I intuited that I wanted off the shinny new car trail in on something different, preferable made by tight-lipped West Germans, preferably with soul, preferably something my employees would walk past in the parking lot that would make them more curious than irate.  

And so I found the car on-line, made sure it was what it was said it was, bought it and flew to San Francisco to pick it up and take it back East. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it initially but got my first hint of the future a day later on I-80 coming East out of Sacramento across the floor of the Central Valley just before dawn.  

There were just a few cars on a butter smooth road and the cruise control was set to 80 when some kid in a Mitsubishi Eclipse GSX came up weaving up traffic and ended up in front of me. He and the car in the right lane were running even at about ninety, no one in front of them. Hmmmm. I and put the M5 in the left lane crept up on that GSX in 5th gear until I was 10 feet off his bumper. Then I did what I like to think the white-coated, short-haired, bespeckled, clip-board carrying Hun who created my machine wanted me to do – I gave that GSX a long steady flash of my brights. GSX did just what I expected, he accelerated, moved over to the right hand lane and kept accelerating. I gave him a few seconds to declare himself and then I dropped into 4th and the 20 year old car pulled across 4500 to 6500 RPM, joyfully howling like a turbo jet, lunging forward until I put her in fifth and kept going until I was locked at 140 mph, the GSX disappearing in the rearview mirror as I hurled across the waking Central Valley into the riot of the coming sun.

Off to practice, but it feels great to have some key pieces come together.

Two revs, one cup

I find a great humor when life comes together, against all odds, exactly right. A good example is at the rowing summer camp I run, where I had open registrations capped only when the total number, boys, girls, coxswains, and rowers reached the capacity of the dormitories. I was thus quite amused when, by no actual skill or intention, the number of girls that showed up exactly fit 5 boats worth of people.

A similar situation then, as the day I arrive back in California with The Car (introduced in the last post) is the day my lease beings at my new apartment. As much as The Car is a revolution, the change in living situation is an equal or greater revolution. Sarah and I are moving in together, though this isn't a huge change as we have for all intents and purposes been sharing the living space every day for the last year. The real change is that I will not be inhabiting San Francisco for the first time in almost 4 years. We're moving to Menlo Park, CA, right next to Palo Alto where we both work. It's not a bad town, but it's hard to compare anywhere to the thriving culture, diversity, and general amazingness that is San Francisco.

We decided to move in together a long time ago, and I think the ensuing time to discuss, peruse, and compare has been invaluable. In the end, we knew each location had serious list of pros and cons. I don't feel like listing them all here now, but it made it tough knowing that neither solution would be ideal in the end. In the end, keeping costs and commuting times down won out, so we're going to try the Peninsula for a while. The place we found is really great, and we're very much looking forward to putting energy into our own place. A lot of change all at once though, with multiple revolutions concurrently. A very exciting and anxious time.

Different revolutions

The continued domination of autumn by work has led to little biking and even less blogging. Not so bummed about the latter, but the prior makes me sad. I ride to work sometimes, reflected in a slightly increased mileage counter, but today was my first day doing so in a while and I was extremely sad at how much my butt hurt by the end of it. Even without bike shorts, my ass should have a little more resilience after the miles I've put in! Maybe they're hidden, somewhere, deep... wait, that's gross.

Anyways, a new revolution is coming. I believe I alluded to it in the first post, but cars are obviously a huge part of my life. I even write posts for a car blog, which is fun. Well, every once in a while you get the chance to completely go 5 blades and take life by the throat and tell it you're the boss. If that chance comes, you should take it, because you never know if you'll get another one. One of those chances has come to me, so no matter how crazy it seems to some (and even to me a lot of the time), I'm going for it and making one of my dreams come true. Immortalized in the Big Lebowski is one of my favorite quotes of all time: "If you will it, dude, it is no dream." Originally by Theodor Herzl, I love this quote. There's plenty of humor in it, especially in Walter's choice insertion of "dude," but it's also a completely empowering and optimistic statement. If you have a dream, use your will and capabilities to make it reality. It then is no longer a dream.

Well, my dream has been to own a car. Not just any car; I have a "car," though Truck-E is certainly much more than the commuter appliances "car" often insinuates. But my dream is to own a sports car. And not just any sports car, but one from the 80s, because the cars in the 80s were the most advanced mechanical automobiles before computers completely took over. Clean, straight lines required subtly and creativity to make beautiful shapes, but hot damn did they ever make some amazing looking sculptures. But it's not just any 80s sports car, as I wanted a BMW. And not just any BMW, because on the whole, even if 80s Bimmers are sweet, they can still give off a tinge of undeserving snob. No, what I've been dreaming about since middle school is a 1980s BMW M-car, the M standing for Motorsports, BMW's special car division which is mirrored in Mercedes' AMG, Audi's Quattro, and now mimicked by Lexus' F. These cars are low-production with roots in true motorsport, and in the case of 80s BMWs, they are hand-built machines epitomizing "The Ultimate Driving Machine" and showcasing the highest levels of technology for the day.

The first M that I wanted the BMW E30 M3, a box-fendered homologation special, which BMW had to produce street versions of so they could race them. An insanely hot little car and one of the most successful racecars ever, the market for them has gone through the roof. Still attainable for the collector but barely for the common enthusiast, I looked elsewhere.

Call it rationalization, self-comfort, or whatever you want, but as I grew up I began seeing the M5 from the same time period as the car for me. First, it flies further under the radar, available only in black and with minor modifications leaving it much less ostentatious than the M3. Additionally, the M3 is a small-ass car with only 2 doors and a joke of a back seat. That's great when you're going to the track, but I don't (yet). I'm a big dude, and after 10 years of driving 2-door, 2-seater trucks, being able to fit more than 1 friend in the car without going family-style sounds great. And, conveniently, the lack of racing heritage means M5 prices haven't shot through the roof like the M3 has. As I read more and more and the years passed, it became clear that the E28 M5 had its own magic and mystique, both in pure mechanicals as a truly amazing handler and with an engine straight from a race car, and from being one of the rarest BMWs ever produced, with only 1400 coming to the US, all in black. Many will pass by it thinking it's just another old BMW. Those who know, well... I'm excited to see what kind of reactions it gets.

Oh yeah, I'm buying one. The one pictured just above. After perusing the interwebs for cars for the better part of a decade, and writing about found German cars for several years, I have the desire and means to jump in and will it to be no dream. I found a local example that proved underwhelming, and upon some amazing internet communications, found my ideal example in Tennessee. I balked at first, thinking there was no reasonable way to make purchasing a car that far away make sense. Transporting? Silly and potentially risky. Fly out there? When? Well, after reflecting on the lesser local example and some communication with the obsessive-compulsive and true enthusiast Tennessean who currently owns the M5, I knew what I had to do. I have 10 days off for Thanksgiving, so my brother and I are flying to Nashville, picking up the car, and having the roadtrip of our dreams in reality.

So, that's the backstory. Hopefully this new revolution will get me writing some more. With Truck-E requiring some work currently I almost asked myself what I was thinking, but the question needed no asking. I know what I'm doing. I'm willing it, because if you will it, dude, it is no dream.

Domo'd

It's been awesome to have some gorgeous days, manageable work from home, and a bike that's ready to go! It's also been windy as hell, which makes things a bit trudgy, but the sun usually makes up for it.

Put in another ride out to Tiburon, but tried a slightly shorter way that ends up cutting out some painful windy spots and only cuts about 4 miles out of the total ride. Was a bit easier to cruise without the extra wind-smacked expenditure, and I feel lucky to have that ride be some easily accessible bread and butter. Came up with some great inspirational phrases for this year, like "revel in the elation of crushing it." Right? Right...?

Then I got a bit uppity and decided that since I was back on the bike a bit, I might as well try Mt. Tam again. Headed out, it was windy but hot. As I kept going, it alternated cool and hot, each time I'd wonder if it would get uncomfortably so, but it did not. Had a nice little speed-check with a dude in some fancy clothes, passed him, he passed back, then eventually I got ahead and we crushed it for a while. Eventually, he went towards Tiburon and I went towards Tam, we exchanged some niceties. Energy expenditure here may have taken a toll later, as Mt. Tam ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED ME. Shit. I got owned. I made it to the top of east peak, which was great, but those last bits were slow and painful. My legs wanted to stop, and I had to keep asking myself "why can't you keep going?" They'd try to stop again. "Seriously, there's no good reason why you can't keep on. Why can't you keep going?" Eventually, I made it, and the descent was mostly worth it. Not quite as worth it as I'd told myself on the way up, but it was pretty good to bomb all the way down. Some nice long sweepers at 35- that's the good stuff. If only I'd been a little less tired, I might have enjoyed it more, but then I wouldn't have had it at all. That's how it goes, right?

I'll put some pictures up at a different time.

Arisen

Big surprise, I haven't kept on my blog in a while. Called it.

For good reason though. This summer has been the busiest of my life, and prioritization has become paramount. Running summer rowing camps got serious, but we made it through 5 weeks of day camps and 2 weeks of overnights. No one died. Guess that's the first cycle of a new revolution; hopefully year 2 of camp director will be easier.

Got a couple rides in recently, and although I hear Bolder is looking to new directions, I'm going to keep up my challenge and keep trying to log my bike rides.

Put in a couple of miles to and from Giants games, but put in 2 real rides too. One marked the welcome, albeit short, return of Donny Simkin, Spiritquester. After a challenging summer guiding river rafting trips in Oregon, he was back for a few days before embarking on a 10-day hiking spirit quest with none other than the Big Soft, Silas Newby Stafford. D and I rode around a nice foothill loop and had a great little brother-chat session. Only 24 miles, but it was nice for us to both take it easy and catch up on what has been an eventful summer for both of us. It's sad to see the cycle of his coaching at Stanford come to a close after such a brief stint as it was a great to be together for a year, but it's for the best.

Today, I rode out to Tiburon for the first time in a while. I'd been especially motivated to do this loop as I spent most of last weekend in Tiburon for my high school bud Matt's wedding. Definitely funny to poke around the small town that is usually just a turn-around destination for me. But, with the bike bag restocked and rickety headset serviced, it was time to get a ride in. Sun in the city was nice, but ominous clouds engulfing the Golden Gate made me question how long I'd be warm and comfy. Thankfully, it was actually a nice temperature on the bridge despite the mist, and the Tiburon peninsula was gorgeous. Took it easy in the afternoon headwinds, but felt great to just grind for a while. Kept thinking how it's fun to just be an engine, and nothing else.

Had some good thoughts about the impending crew year starting, which is intimidating but great. I'm excited to see the team and get back to some real coaching to offset the administrative work. Trying to think about how to best communicate the fire and drive this years' small group is going to have to approach each day with if they want to contend. I guess that's pretty cliche, but it's true.

Until then, I'm going to keep squeezing summer for all the juice it's got.

Independence is being on a bike

Had one heck of a 4th of July at my aunt & uncle's place in Manhattan Beach, CA. Uncle Pat is the most patriotic person I've ever met, so it's always special to be with them on July 4th.

After a cruise in my uncle's Vietnam Army-tribute truck, the "GroundPounder" (no joke)

my cousin, her boyfriend, and our friend set out to visit my (deep breath) cousin's-boyfriend's-sister's birthday party, so we donned our best red-white-and-blues, including recently-gifted PBR hats, and piled on low-riding cruisers and set out for the 3.5 mile (each way!) voyage.

And voyage we did, past all those streets you hear about in rap songs: Crenshaw, Hawthorn, heading to Gardena. I was told we would not be staying there until it got dark.

We made it back safe though, dodging fireworks, cars, and the darkness. It may have only been 7 miles, but it was a damn fun 7 miles, and I've been told I can count miles that aren't part of "serious" bike riding, so I'm gonna!

A bike ride!

A bike ride! I went for a real live bike ride today!

I've been on vacation in Southern California all week and there's been a lot of family time, a healthy dose of partying, but very little biking (other than one 4th of July excursion, to be discussed later). I brought my bike down in the hopes I would go for a bike ride with my 89 year-old grandfather, who picked up cycling in his late 50s and went on to be a baller age-group champion in his 60s and continued to ride 4-5 days a week until he was about 82. He's slowed down some recently, but is not unable and still rides occasionally despite having lived for 9 decades. His newly-rebuilt Litespeed with top-of-the-line Campy Record is a testament to a guy who's lived his life doing things the right way.

Alas, he's 89, and hasn't felt like biking. So I woke up before the rest of the family and hopped on the bike before 9, embarking on the same ride he used to take my brother and I on. Along the beach through Ventura, CA, onto the Ventura Bike Trail, up past Lake Casitas (site of the 1984 Olympic rowing events and eponymous setting for the classic rowing book Assault on Lake Casitas) to Ojai.

A gorgeous ride, passing several large groups of older riders, of which my grandfather used to be a more regular member. Just as I reached Ojai, my grandfather's hilarious old friend Ralph, who turned 75 today and was going for a ride with his stepson. I turned around and rode back to Ventura with them, catching up and stopping at a place along the trail that looked down the dry Ventura riverbed, up to the Casitas hill, and across to the hills.

Ended up being a 41.5 mile-ride, not a beast but not shabby, and certainly welcome after a lot of days with no miles at all.

Last night in SoCal and I hadn't been in the water yet, so I had to go for it. Jumped in and it was invigorating, followed by just plain fun. Caught a couple body surf waves as the sun sank, and headed home. After too many consecutive days with too much on my mind, this was a great Thursday.

Every day I'm strugglin

I should have started writing about my bike rides about 2 months ago, when I was actually riding. In the past 2 weeks, the only riding I've done besides hither-and-thithering was a 26-miler one Saturday morning. It was fun to be on the bike and my legs felt rested (too rested), but shit man. 150 miles/week is just not an option right now. Rowing summer camp, of which I'm the director, started up and all of a sudden I'm working 8-5 instead of super early mornings and late evenings which left me with the middle of the day to crush some mileage. I want to start commuting via bike which might help throw in some miles, but overall it just makes me sad. I had pushed my normal 2-3 week dedication to training out to over 8 weeks, but life still got in the way. All part of the revolution, I get, but I'm goddamn ready to get back on the bike. Gotta make it happen I guess.

Shit, work calls. Can't bike, can't blog.

Windigo

The past two rides, Friday and Sunday, have been dominated by the Windigo; when it's windy as hell but you still go. Friday proved to be the most misadventure-strewn ride I can remember. Departing in the crazy-ass wind, I thought I was pushing through and getting a ride in. Starting out to the ocean, I thought I'd go the bridge via the other side of the city and then go to Marin. Cruising down Sloat Boulevard, there was a bunch of unavoidable glass in the bike lane, and soon after I felt the horrible wiggly and jarring flat tire. My first flat since I've moved to San Francisco, so... 3-plus years of no flats. Pulled over on a grassy corner, went through the steps, but my vulcanizing rubber cement was mysteriously empty, perhaps it leaked. Anyways, no cement, no patch, no extra tube, one loser. iPhone to the rescue, bike shop 4 blocks away in West Portal, new tube and tire and some time with 3 old bike shop dudes.

Post-bike shop, I rode in the gnarly wind along the Great American Highway. The sand in the wind stung my arms and blurred my vision. Totally sweet.

Decided to cut my losses, went past my waterfall in GG Park and charged it home, blocked at Dolores Park by the  fallen SF firefighters procession and just gave in and sat at the park for a while. Ended with a disappointing 20 miles but could tell it wasn't my day.

Yesterday was... well, different than Friday I guess. Nothing went wrong the way they did on my way to the ocean, I just felt tired and heavy the whole time. The summer weather pattern, though favorable in its warmth and I shan't complain about that, brings some serious wind, which can sneak up and make it feel like I'm riding in Nutella. That was Sunday. Made it out to Tiburon and back for a 51 miler, but didn't feel very good about it. Kept thinking along the way: "Aren't all these miles I've been biking supposed to make this shit easier?" Guess not yet.

Well, the biking wasn't that much fun, and I guess that's reflected in how much I feel like writing about it. I guess that makes it a great time to discuss one of other namesakes for the this blog: my love of cars. In fact, my girlfriend calls cars my "one true love." Probably true. If you know me, you've probably heard me talk about cars or seen me get distracted by something obscure on the road. So, you're gonna have to deal with it on my blog too.

On our way to Sausalito on Saturday, we passed 5 Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwings, one of the most revolutionary sports cars in history. I'd never even seen one in person, and all of the sudden Truck-E was rumbling next to 5 cars each worth nearly a million dollars. They came in all flavors, too...

 I didn't realize how much I would love this car in red. It's incredible.

Pictures also never showed me how frickin long this car is.

We unfortunately didn't get any of the crazy, deep burgundy example.

They were all led by the new SLS, the modern interpretation. Doesn't have nearly the gravity as the 300s, but was cool to see and looks hewn from a single block of aluminum.

Another revolution began again today, as Stanford Rowing Camps started up for another year. 36 little bundles of joy today, and the wind was still effing with my shiiihhhh. One boat of 8 small children blew away from the dock so fast and so far that it took the next 45 minutes for them to just try to row into the wind back to the dock. It actually didn't go as badly as I had anticipated, so here we go.

This is great

Mileage makes champions

I started writing the mileage of my rides on our Bainbridge-Ometepe Sister Island wall calendar on April 14th. 56 miles. That was a serious ride for me at that point, and one I still love; a flatter, gorgeous run along the east coast of the west bay, from the Mission in SF out to Tiburon in Marin. From April 14 to June 1, the smattering of numbers had accumulated to 969.5 miles. I nailed my rear wheel on a pothole in Sacramento while coaching at the NCAA Rowing Championships (another form of revolution I will get to eventually), so my bike was out of commission for a while at the same time as the lunatics were posting thousands of miles on my Bolder challenge. Got it back earlier this week, had a day off, and decided it was time to bike. While 70+ mile rides have become pretty standard, my biggest ever was still riding around Lake Tahoe in the summer of 2005, when we did 82 miles in a day. I've felt that I could beat that for a while, but hadn't yet embarked on a ride to do so.

I don't set an exact course to follow when I leave, but I have a general idea and know my favorite bike roads pretty well. Marin Headlands, Highway 1 out to Stinson and over Mt. Tam, or the awesome and fast ride out past Sausalito to Tiburon and sometimes along Paradise Drive up to Corte Madera. Well, on Tuesday, I decided to go big before I could go home. I packed up some leftover pizza, a good playlist, and set out to combine my two biggest rides: Mt. Tam and Paradise Drive.

It's 15 miles of mostly flat to Sausalito, which I consider my warm-up time. On the way out, I pondered how to go about this. Do the long, rolling ride to Tiburon and up Paradise Drive and THEN try to drag myself up Mt. Tam? No, that sounded terrible and I worried that I would lack the resolve to force myself up the mountain after being over 50 miles in. Up the mountain first, then.

Thus far, doing Tam, I've gone up the mountain first, then descended to Stinson Beach and ridden back along the amazing coastal Highway 1. The descent is kind of switchbacky and bumpy though, so I decided to mix it up. I rode up 1 to Stinson and began the trudge up Tam. 6'3/220 is the worst build for a biker ever not exactly the "ideal" climbing build, so climbs are slow and arduous. But I did it, stopped at the top for a water and pizza break, and then charged down the mountain at 35+ mph, using a new "look at the exit of the corner" technique to minimize braking (funnnn!). Tam spit me back out by Sausalito, I hopped back on the bike path and headed along my route to Tiburon.

For most rides I don't stop longer than to fill up my water bottle, but as evidenced by my pizza stop at the top of Tam and a relatively-leisurely lunch in Tiburon, I knew however long my ride ended up being, it would be worth it to take time and get some fuel. So, another piece of pizza, coffee, and a fruit cup got me ready to go for Paradise Drive, another great rolling coastal road, just this time looking across the Bay instead of across the Pacific. I was pretty zonked at this point and a bit of headwind didn't help, but I was able to push forward and cruise. Turned around in Corte Madera because you can either shortcut back through Mill Valley to Sausalito there, or just do Paradise Drive in the opposite direction. I prefer the latter.

Though my butt was increasingly sore and my legs were leaden, the rest felt like it was essentially downhill home, at least mentally. Cruised my Sausalito route, back over the treacherous tourist-laden Golden Gate, and along Embarcadero for the nice cool down. One of my (many) neuroses, I only check my mileage once I get home (or at my block, at least), but I had hit 94 miles. New record, and a good start into the challenge now set out by my challengees on Bolder. My butt hurt bad, my knees were pretty painful, and I had have a pink stripe of gnarly sunburn where I had accidentally pulled my bike shorts above my rather distinct tan line.

But I felt really, really good. 100 miles probably would have been cooler, but for some reason I didn't care about those 6 miles at all. I guess that's indicative of how I feel about my riding in general: it's for me, and only my personal goals matter. I am stoked to have the Bolder community giving me additional support to ride as far as I can, but I've learned that my biking is about me, biking. Riding with people other than family/closest friends makes me feel weird and competitive. By myself, I just get to be competitive with myself, which is the truest, realest competition. I know when I'm being weak. I know when I'm killing it. I know when I pushed through a tough part and came out better for it. That's why my initial goal was very simple, and unfudgeable: 150 miles a week. No time to shave off, no speed to hit. Just gotta put in the miles.

On that note, it's a sunny day, I got some work done this morning, and it's time to go for a ride.

Why another blog?

Seriously, why another blog? Why create another blind-shooting self-indulgent personal blog when I'm (clearly) not a huge fan of them and have consistently failed at maintaining them?

I blame Eric. College roommate/friend is helping out at some friends' startup, Bolder. A new function in their great positive-actions-gain-rewards system has people make personal challenges, so instead of "eating organic and getting a coupon," it's more like "make friends food and I'll give you good recipes," or "run 3 days in a row and I'll run to work for a week straight."

So the next part, the main impetus for this blog, centers around my recent attempt to bike a lot. More on the philosophy of biking later, I suppose, but long story short I've been trying to use biking as a way to challenge myself, to get back into some not-round shape, and it's revealed itself to be something I love doing. It's my "Nate" time, zoned out, music in my right ear, miles of road running below. I set out a couple months ago with the goal of riding 150 miles per week (seemed achievable but seriously challenging), and with exception of a week and a half of a broken bike, I've been doing it. I think I'm close to 1000 miles down and loving it.

So, in launching their new personal challenge section, I was given the chance to make one. I figured "I'm riding a ton, how about for every 1 mile you ride, I'll ride 2." Great idea, Nate. Things started off simple enough, and actually even slower than I expected. People posted 3 miles, 6 miles, 10 miles. Then the bombs started dropping. "210 miles last week." Shit. 420 miles? Alright, I can do it, but that's gonna take me a little while. Then some smart alec rides from Vancouver, BC to SF. 1300 miles. Umm... 2600 miles? Plus 420? Plus the other 100 or so from the stragglers? All of sudden I'm staring more than the width of the United States in the face, realizing I may need to shift the timeline I had envisioned for holding up my end of the bargain.

Well, if the challengees got to stick it to me be creative with the timeline (i.e., including miles done before the challenge started), I figure I get to play by the same rules. So I'm going to include the miles I've done since I started my personal challenge, and use the other thousands of miles to be inspiration for staying on the bike.

Which brings me back to the blog. Eric, being the savvy genius that he is, encouraged me to blog about it. Well, blogging is for dorks (says the kid who writes for a German car blog), but it will be cool to document my biking, keep myself honest, and let people, challengees and otherwise, see what I'm doing to fulfill my role as challenger.

One revolution as a blogger at a time, I guess; maybe this one will be different.

Trying Again

I think Google says this is my third blog, of which the first two died slow, unremarkable deaths. I cannot guarantee that this one won't do the same. But at least I'll try, because recording the revolutions that turn my life is important and consistent. More on this later.