4: Bikes
"Welcome to Black Rock City," Dex said to us and off we drove into the night. The wrong way. When we saw the sign for 6:30, we knew we had to turn around. I radioed for G and Wags again, the tenth time since we got in line, but we still hadn't heard back. They were probably already kneedeep in playa madness, but hopefully we'd at least find the camp. Otherwise it was going to be a long, interesting night. Dark, too. Moonless. A few people rode by bedecked in glow-sticks and rings but it was fairly desolate out there at the edge. Finally we found 4:30, hooked a left and then searched for Gestalt. A block in we found it and turned right.
"SLOW DOWN," Some one yelled at me, and sheepishly I complied. I had only been going 7mph, but he was right, I was kicking up mad dust. But dammit we had to find them! We drove down Gestalt till we hit 4 o'clock, turned left up the spoke, and then left again at Fetish, so that we were headed back towards 4:30 o'clock. They had to be somewhere in this square. The car barely lurched along at 2mph, but they were no where to be seen, and I was getting no response on the walkie-talkie. Back on the 4:30 spoke between Gestalt and Fetish, I made a choice. The car wasn't doin' it. We needed a more detailed approach.
"Let's ride," I said to Lu. "The camp could be just out there, in between the roads and we'd never see it from the car. On bikes we can weave in and out and search closer."
"Sounds good," she replied.
The entire ride I was afraid the bike rack attached to the trunk of our Honda Civic was going to fly off and demolish cars on its way to killing our bikes and people and everything. I'd heard horror stories of other softracks and I had no faith in ours. Turns out, that thing was on there and good. Took ten minutes of hard work to finally unstrap it and free our bikes.
So there it was, my bike. I hadn't ridden one in years before testing this thing out the previous Sunday when I went to follow-up on the craigslist ad. And now here it was on the playa, ready to go, handles tweaked just so, brakes and seat and tires fully inspected by my messenger friend, frame fully decorated in sequined fabric by my crafty wife Lu. She was ready, too. Standing over the frame, she looked awesome. Her bike looked awesome too. Hers was covered in a silver sparkle. My main theme was gold. Over the next few days, the playa would succumb to our legs and pedals and thick, rugged wheels, even as the sparkle succumbed to the dust. Headlamps, bike lamps, blinkly lights on the back. We had no glow and felt conspicuous with its absence. Into the night we rode for the first time, together, the playa grit kicking up behind us, our meager lights barely illuminating the way, and I thought about what this bike and I were about to do.
I knew the bike would be essential. It was made clear from the outset by Wags that without a bike, there was no way we were getting around. Finding the machine had been my biggest source of stress and worry for the few days leading up to our departure. At Burning Man, my bike became my prized possession, my toy, an amazing extension of me. Only one other device filled me with nearly as much happiness, but at the top, of course, was the bike. I loved the way we'd turned up the handlebar extenders, so I could kick back and cruise, and still hold on. I was thrilled with the way it held onto the sand, never spilling me. I was surprised by my ability to unzip the soft cooler strapped to the back rack, pull out a beer, crack it, drink it and return it to the cooler all without stopping the forward motion. The dusky reglowing meant each evening all our bikes had new visual configurations. I learned those configurations anew each night... how Wag's blinky blinked. How Lu's glow was strung through her spokes. The distinctive ring of G's bell as we rode across the playa, making it ours. The fastclick of the chain as backpedaled became a soothing sound. My only real problem was the seat. Days later, as a few of us walked around our 'hood, checking out Texas and the Stripper Pole and the place for Lapdance Lessons, I remarked to Steve how nice it was that there wasn't something being shoved up my ass, since you know, I was walking, for the moment, and not crammed onto that unforgiving seat. But by the time Sat night rolled around, and the day's libations and intoxications had their way with me, I was eager to hop on that seat again and own the playa as we had every night since we got there.
And right from the start, our bikes served us well. Our first ride was short, because halfway down Gestalt, between 4:30 and 4, I saw a sign on the right. The sign said Curvas Peligrosas and I shouted to Lu! The camp was on the other side of the street from where we had been looking. I thought it was going to be on the block bordered by Gestalt and Fetish. Instead, Camp Curvas Peligrosas was on the outer side of Gestalt. One block behind it was the final street, Hysteria.
We pulled into camp psyched to have found it, but then we were truly blown away, because sitting there on the couch were our two friends, G and Wags. They were with Vann who we didn't yet know, but the fact that there they were there, waiting for us, it was just unbelievable! That's what good friends do. They sit on the couch at midnight, waiting for over an hour as the madness of Burning Man churns all around them, just sitting there, knowing we're close and knowing that the only way the night can go great is if we all do it together. Lu and I were floored, flabbergasted and so appreciative. G and Wags gave big hugs and we loved it. Then it was time to get ready fast and then get out into the burning night.
We tried. We really did. But it just took us a while to: get the car, unpack the necessary containers, make drinks for the Nalgene bottle (which we call Festivus), don sparkely, crazy costumes, fill and strap on the soft cooler, get flashlights, drink a beer, fill other Nalgenes with water, strap on Lu's glorious silver basket ready to be filled with all the tools and madness and detrius of this Burn to come, go back for that thing we forgot, shout for joy again, do a shot, go back for the goggles, then again for the dustmask, open another beer, and then finally, finally FINALLY, the four of us got on our bikes and we rode into the night, up the spoke to the Esplanade where the gravity was strongest and the night was alight.
"SLOW DOWN," Some one yelled at me, and sheepishly I complied. I had only been going 7mph, but he was right, I was kicking up mad dust. But dammit we had to find them! We drove down Gestalt till we hit 4 o'clock, turned left up the spoke, and then left again at Fetish, so that we were headed back towards 4:30 o'clock. They had to be somewhere in this square. The car barely lurched along at 2mph, but they were no where to be seen, and I was getting no response on the walkie-talkie. Back on the 4:30 spoke between Gestalt and Fetish, I made a choice. The car wasn't doin' it. We needed a more detailed approach.
"Let's ride," I said to Lu. "The camp could be just out there, in between the roads and we'd never see it from the car. On bikes we can weave in and out and search closer."
"Sounds good," she replied.
The entire ride I was afraid the bike rack attached to the trunk of our Honda Civic was going to fly off and demolish cars on its way to killing our bikes and people and everything. I'd heard horror stories of other softracks and I had no faith in ours. Turns out, that thing was on there and good. Took ten minutes of hard work to finally unstrap it and free our bikes.
So there it was, my bike. I hadn't ridden one in years before testing this thing out the previous Sunday when I went to follow-up on the craigslist ad. And now here it was on the playa, ready to go, handles tweaked just so, brakes and seat and tires fully inspected by my messenger friend, frame fully decorated in sequined fabric by my crafty wife Lu. She was ready, too. Standing over the frame, she looked awesome. Her bike looked awesome too. Hers was covered in a silver sparkle. My main theme was gold. Over the next few days, the playa would succumb to our legs and pedals and thick, rugged wheels, even as the sparkle succumbed to the dust. Headlamps, bike lamps, blinkly lights on the back. We had no glow and felt conspicuous with its absence. Into the night we rode for the first time, together, the playa grit kicking up behind us, our meager lights barely illuminating the way, and I thought about what this bike and I were about to do.
I knew the bike would be essential. It was made clear from the outset by Wags that without a bike, there was no way we were getting around. Finding the machine had been my biggest source of stress and worry for the few days leading up to our departure. At Burning Man, my bike became my prized possession, my toy, an amazing extension of me. Only one other device filled me with nearly as much happiness, but at the top, of course, was the bike. I loved the way we'd turned up the handlebar extenders, so I could kick back and cruise, and still hold on. I was thrilled with the way it held onto the sand, never spilling me. I was surprised by my ability to unzip the soft cooler strapped to the back rack, pull out a beer, crack it, drink it and return it to the cooler all without stopping the forward motion. The dusky reglowing meant each evening all our bikes had new visual configurations. I learned those configurations anew each night... how Wag's blinky blinked. How Lu's glow was strung through her spokes. The distinctive ring of G's bell as we rode across the playa, making it ours. The fastclick of the chain as backpedaled became a soothing sound. My only real problem was the seat. Days later, as a few of us walked around our 'hood, checking out Texas and the Stripper Pole and the place for Lapdance Lessons, I remarked to Steve how nice it was that there wasn't something being shoved up my ass, since you know, I was walking, for the moment, and not crammed onto that unforgiving seat. But by the time Sat night rolled around, and the day's libations and intoxications had their way with me, I was eager to hop on that seat again and own the playa as we had every night since we got there.
And right from the start, our bikes served us well. Our first ride was short, because halfway down Gestalt, between 4:30 and 4, I saw a sign on the right. The sign said Curvas Peligrosas and I shouted to Lu! The camp was on the other side of the street from where we had been looking. I thought it was going to be on the block bordered by Gestalt and Fetish. Instead, Camp Curvas Peligrosas was on the outer side of Gestalt. One block behind it was the final street, Hysteria.
We pulled into camp psyched to have found it, but then we were truly blown away, because sitting there on the couch were our two friends, G and Wags. They were with Vann who we didn't yet know, but the fact that there they were there, waiting for us, it was just unbelievable! That's what good friends do. They sit on the couch at midnight, waiting for over an hour as the madness of Burning Man churns all around them, just sitting there, knowing we're close and knowing that the only way the night can go great is if we all do it together. Lu and I were floored, flabbergasted and so appreciative. G and Wags gave big hugs and we loved it. Then it was time to get ready fast and then get out into the burning night.
We tried. We really did. But it just took us a while to: get the car, unpack the necessary containers, make drinks for the Nalgene bottle (which we call Festivus), don sparkely, crazy costumes, fill and strap on the soft cooler, get flashlights, drink a beer, fill other Nalgenes with water, strap on Lu's glorious silver basket ready to be filled with all the tools and madness and detrius of this Burn to come, go back for that thing we forgot, shout for joy again, do a shot, go back for the goggles, then again for the dustmask, open another beer, and then finally, finally FINALLY, the four of us got on our bikes and we rode into the night, up the spoke to the Esplanade where the gravity was strongest and the night was alight.
posted by Bones at 6:31 PM
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