Chinese sausage

ball, Plaza Bogota

Weird intentions

Broken in Chile

Why it seems like all of the little annoyances in my bike, like missing bar end plugs, loose spoke or constantly moving grips, are some way in straight connection with the rest of me. Suddenly appearead knee ache, slowly healing finger that I somewhat unwisely left between door and its frame of my friends old VW van allmost disengaging it from what is rest of me, and stiffer than usually lower back seems to have everything to do with nuisances written above. They come and go in sync. I don't know if you have any idea what I am talking about, but it seems to escalate especially here in Chile. Hence, I own only one bike in which, as a deep hater of all most all the other forms of moving, I am most dependant.

Have I started to be religious with my bike or bikeing in general? Did I, in some point, thought that there is actually Zen hanging around me and my bike just because it has no brakes? Right. For some reason I think that more than a little maintainance for my bike and streching for me, it is time to have a small reality check. Like most of annoying little details even these shall past.

Perseguido por el Perkele

At 20.30 friday night. Approximately sixty bikers and buddys are gathered at Plaza Bogota. Perseguido por el Perkele is about to start. Well, we are still missing one of the organizers, but things will happen in time if you are willing to adopt a chilean way to think about it. 

2 laps, a bit over 10 km track through Santiago borough as a race against the clock is the job for tonight. 16 riders take the chance. First straight is a lazy shoot through few traffic lights comparing to what is about to come.

Two kilometer  descent at 3-4 laned av. Matta is giving nice speeding with cars certainly taking their space. Through few darker alleys track reaches it midpoint and come-back ascent at av. Matta takes what riders still got to offer.

Winning time with gears: 00:36:50 is made by Erik, same rider who ruled previous Santiago alleycats with fixed gear some month ago. Minute and fifty seconds slower comes first one- gear taking second place in total score. Winners are awarded with products of friendly local brewery DieM and miscelanious goods. Polo and party keeps on going until last of the brave poloists wreck their mallets and it is time to head home.

Polo, Plaza Bogota

Polo, Plaza Bogota

Pray

I might -and you must give me a right to do so- hold an experience of first frame building almost holy. It just might be the hardest thing I ever had done with my hands. I don't know if I have ever been so afraid of anything. When I got the set of tubing and lugs my friend -and in some other things my mentor-, had brought to Finland to get his frame to be build by me I, quite literatelly, only stared at it too afraid to do anything to start working with it for first two months.

"Dude! Its a pile of steel! Finish it!" You might think. But hey, we all have our weaknesses. Mine seems to be piles of steel. Or getting started. Well, my time in Finland at this point started to end and I had no choice but to get my hands dirty.

My emotions through the process varied from total disappointment and failure to hippie-like feeling of being one with the steel. I was scared, and until Pauli succesfully rides with this frame for some time, I keep on being scared. In many ways the frame is far from perfection that it's fine italian tubing and casted lugs and owner would deserve, but it is going to be rided. Ye, go ahead and laugh, but untill you become Tim Paterek or Samuel del Valle I am gonna be ten inches higher from ground than you.

Game is on

Pancho comes too see me at Plaza de Italia. It is only once that I have seen him and Wladimir before. Still, he is here to bring me a bike to borrow and guide me through Santiago. From mayhem of Plaza de Italia, with 54cm single speed Bianchi I take my first ride in Santiago. Ten blocks I drive behind Pancho before we reach the Plaza Bogota, home of Santiago bike polo. 

At the south side of Santiago is a Plaza seeming allmost made for polo. Smooth paveing surrounded with steps to chill is lightened at night. Game is good. Warm hearted people, ball, bikes and beer is something that makes my arrival to the city of beatifull hod dogs more than perfect. 

Riding back home through city unknown, when pavement varys from silk to sooth sickness is a state of consiciousness and bulleting through a narrow passageway flanged by red rear lights seals my day of perfection.