So it's been a while since my last shout so I'll give her all I got. A while back after riding down to boston on the back of a dirt bike, after kicking it hard in cape cod for the 4th (great time by the way, met back up with some dear friends from vail for tons of shenanagans in the ocean and islands around marthas vinyard), after time in boston with another dear vail friend, I made my way down to the big apple. Had just a couple days planned with sara, amazing loud new yorker that had spent a month in vail, hooked up with a roommate of mine out there so she was practically a roommate as well. Situation was; she was paying double rent for july in the process of moving from manhattan to brooklyn so she had 2 rooms...reason enough to stick around for a while. I bought a $100 bike. A week turned into two. I knew it was time to get the fuck out and hike AT or some shit. Right before I'm about to make a move someone suggests that I give bike messenging a shot. Why the fuck not, right? So I apply a quite a few places. Turned down at all of them, I don't have enough experience. I finally decide that I will just have to lie, so I do and get the next job I apply for. Ding dong. In the process I buy a smart phone...need the maps for work. Bought another bike...super hipster fixed gear. It's not all complete, show it to you when it is. So I'm a new york city bike messenger. I have a boost mobile phone the a ring to dispatch with. They give me an address with a package, I pick it up and deliver it...on my bike, in manhattan. I see some of the coolest offices. One, chandeleer, is a huge open room with a buch a large apple computer and sculptures. Huge ones. A horse with bows and a wacky helecopter. Fuckin crazy shit. I take packages to and from, victoria secret, ABC, fuse channel, bath and body works headquarters, cosmo magazine. A lot of HD tapes for tv and a lot of prints from photography studios. I am always picking up packages from "major models" some modeling agency. There are always a bunch of beautiful people there. If someone is sitting waiting and they obviously aren't a model, I ask..."you a model?" We laugh, hasn't back fired yet. I secretly hope I'll be discovered delivering a package there. The mix of people that are messengers is interesting. Not a lot of super hip dudes. A lot of black dudes. Fun to shoot the shit with my brothers. I was riding up 6th ave around 40th to 5oth, a block east of times square, just ripping. Its 5 or 6 lanes here, another messenger comes along side and we start spinning fast. Weaving super tight traffic. I pick a faster line and pass him back. EEEYAW! He yells back and then we're ripping side by side pedaling our faces off. Diving in and out of a sea of yellow crown victoria yellow cabs. We go for 10,12 blocks like this just making yellows and then running reds. Fuck he was fast, but so am I. It feels so good to yell out in manhattan. The hoards of pedestrians standing in witness of a gay little sprint up an impossibly busy 6th ave. My man calls out that he's turning and I coast the next 3 city blocks. Fuck, when its good its good.
I've been at it for a week and a half now. It's pretty solo work. Just me and my bike, a cranky dispatcher and clueless folks making a shitload of money in swank new york offices who need their shit somewhere else in manhattan right away. I couldn't sustain life as I live it right now, messenging doesn't pay shit. Jack shit. Last week I grossed $240 before taxes. Fuck me right? I applied to a different place and got the job, don't know if I'll take it, might be just as devoid of earnings. I guess if my real goal was to be making money I would go at it some other way...just wish it weren't SO shitty.
Anyway, living in a new place in brooklyn, moved my backpack and bikes over here yesterday. I live in a nook loft accessable by ladder for 600 a month, pretty outrageous, cheap for here though. It's a big place though, very old industrial. The deal sealer is the roof, full manhattan view. I'll try and post a photo with my fancy ass phone. Having a droid is like having a two cocks, I just gotta make sure I'm not playing with my second cock too much.
Anyway. India after a bit then I'll be good and broke. I keep riding around thinking I might see a McLean chained to a pole, but alas, I never do.
Anyway, some photos. The track bike is a visp. Gaudy (sp?)? Yes, but I just have to dial in a no handed wheelie on a fixed gear. The one I ride around the city is a kona with a front brake and freewheel. Its got like a 40/18 on it so my spin is amazing right now. $100 bike with a $100 lock. That's nyc.
3 comments:
"McLean chained to a pole". Glad to see the "Z" man has my back.
Maybe, maybe not. I first met Taylor Z. at Odyssey of the Mind, a creative thinking exercise, when he was in first grade. He's been around off and on since. He was in love with vintage steel by the time he entered high school. He knows the McLean story. He may be covering himself.
Gunnar that is just fine. I worked in NY off and on in the 80's. and I am still well connected. If a black Crown Vic shows up on Z's door with two gentlemen named Guido and Tony he'll know what to do.
Jack "the wrench" Gabus
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