The Vogel family hardly looks like a clan of serious cyclists. In their pictures, John, Nancy and their twin 8-year-old ankle-biters Davy and Daryl are often wearing cotton, sometimes denim, and no sweat-wicking jerseys in sight ever bear so much as the oft pervasive sponsor logo. Is that what a cyclist should look like anyway?
No, not necessarily. A cyclist is someone riding a bike, end of story. If anything, the Vogel folk just look like a standard, chipper suburbanite family headed down the driveway and around the block for a Saturday afternoon of some wind in the hair.
Except they didn't go for a short spin. Instead, they threw down over 9 thousand miles on a ride across the U.S. and Mexico.
Last I heard, Jackson, Wyoming is enjoying a lovely 10-degree low and taking on an inch or two of fluff during some awfully pleasant snow flurries. They say the skiing's not that great this year, either. So prepare yourself. Corners of the American Sonoran Desert are invoking cliché lyrics to Jimmy Buffet songs at 74 degrees during the day and chilling the bones at night around 45. Those are facts, so pack the bikes and come on down. 38 Photos . . .
In my day job, my customers are artisans. They're people, mostly men, who build custom furniture and cabinetry and other things out of hardwoods with their two hands and then sell them for far less money than they should because we live in an age in which consumers are so disconnected from the knowledge of how things are made to care much about the craft and sweat that goes unseen. I'm just as guilty here, but how many times have you thought, "40 bucks for that? There can't be any more than 10 bucks in the materials"? As if that's the end of the story.
What makes this short piece unique is its perspective: most of this is shot from a radio controlled helicopter, giving us not just an aerial view, but also a view on the move.
Enjoy.
* * * The Sunday Morning Chillax? Here's the idea. It's Sunday. Maybe you're up early and enjoying a cup of coffee in the quiet morning while your kids sleep in. No need to read, this is always a video; something to give you happy thoughts about mountains, fresh air, stoke, fun, or being outside. Enjoy. Relax. Not guaranteed to be weekly . . . hey, you get what you pay for.
When Stuart Wickes and Kirstie Pelling got married, they honeymooned for six months in South America. Actually they rode their bicycles through South America. Not a bad way to celebrate the blissful bells that mark the blessings of becoming ball and chain. Six months later they arrived in Tierra del Fuego. As you can imagine, this was one incredible adventure honeymoon full of sweet memories. For example, the pair took a week's work as a crew on a yacht, negotiating the fjords and island clusters of southern Chile.
It was no ordinary vessel. You could say it changed their lives . . .
It may be that the only thrill that's more intense than being a boy who's riding a bike is being the dad who takes him out for a morning of some tasty singletrack. Watch this.
* * * The Sunday Morning Chillax? Here's the idea. It's Sunday. You're up early. You're enjoying a cup of coffee in the quiet morning while your kids sleep in. No need to read, this is always a video; something to give you happy thoughts about mountains, fresh air, stoke, fun, or being outside. Enjoy. Relax. Not guaranteed to be weekly . . . hey, you get what you pay for.
The best part of autumn, at least the best part in Arizona, is fickle and wandering. That would be the temperature. The mornings frequently greet you . . .
A mother and son get around on two wheels at University of Arizona
Progress comes in many forms, and it seems like more people riding bicycles is a reasonable sign of it. Michael Mckisson of TucsonVelo.com, who let us share this photo, just posted a report that bike commuting for 2010 in Tucson, Arizona saw an impressive resurgence by 58 percent from 1.9 percent in 2009 to 3 percent in 2010. This also moved Tucson to the 6th position on the list of top U.S. bicycle commuting cities . . .
I remember the first day my dad removed the training wheels from my bike and launched me down the neighborhood road aimed right at the certain death he maintained was "just the cul-de-sac, son." I have to be honest and confess that I cried in terror. If only this little dude was my bud at the time. Watch and listen to how stoked this kid is to have learned to ride his bike.
I commute 44 miles to-and-from work every day of the week, and a couple of days I'm also in charge of drop-off-and-pick-up for my daughter who is in pre-school. Her school is five miles in the opposite direction of my office, which means an additional 10 miles for me on those days. So not cool, and so not possible on a bike if I value sleep.
Shortly after she started school, I sold my lifted-with-oversize-tires Jeep Wrangler for more money than I hoped for, and bought a used Audi A3 that sips a gallon of gasoline for every 30 miles I drive. I'm so pleased with that improvement. And sometimes I can manage to ride to work on a Trek mountain bike that I've bastardized with a rack, panniers and a set of skinny Serfas road tires. Sure it's kind of goofy and miscalculated, but it also meets my budget. It is what it is.
We might not know the origins of the mighty unicycle, but there is no doubt whatsoever that we all get a little giggle and must stop to stare when we see someone riding one.
The American author Sloan Wilson wrote in his memoir, What Shall We Wear to this Party? The Man in The Gray Flannel Suit, 20 Years Before and After, "A shaky child on a bicycle for the first time needs both support and freedom. The realization that this is what the child will always need can hit hard."
Well, what says freedom like a unicycle? And I can imagine all the aid a unicycle brings to parenting:
"But Dad I want a bike!" "Start with this. You can have the second wheel when you earn it."
Or for that 16-year-old daughter who became a sweetie over night because she's dying to get her own Jetta:
"You get one speeding ticket, I'll take away the car, your phone, your bike. You can have a unicycle."
Almost three years ago, in June of 2008, the Vogel four hopped on their bikes in Alaska and pedaled south, getting to know the nuances of a bicycle seat with, well, that part of your body you can't see. When they left, the twin boys were 10 years old. This week they're all finishing their trip at Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. To put that in lucid reality, that's a 17,000-mile bike ride. No wonder it took them over two years. We had to catch up with the Vogels to allow them a moment to reflect on what this meant to their family, how they've changed, and what they intend to do next.
Here are seven questions and 10 photos. Check this out.
The bliss of riding a bike on a sunny day in your flip flops and otherwise purposely bereft of a slick jersey and fancy-schmancy equipment is really hard to beat. So much so, you ought to share the whole experience with the people you love. Like the old saying, "Show me, don't tell me."
Americanized safety standards aside, this is a fine example of one happy South American family off to go do their thing for the day. Hit the market? Visit abuelo y abuela? No matter. We're smiling, we're with each other, we're outside on a perfect carefree sunny day.
I just love that little dude standing there in his backwards hat and blue Chuck Taylors.
Clark Griswold would have a hard time keeping up with that babe in the Ferrari if he was in this family.
The Vogel's - mom, dad, and 11-year-old twin boys - hit the road on their bicycles two and a half years ago. Check out this video from the road in Utah.
Brooke was prepping for a bike ride with my parents just yesterday, and she committed a serious mistake. Are you sitting down? She asked my dad if he had a bike helmet. This is grave because she didn't understand that she was peeling back the lid of a smelly can of worms when she asked.
She thought she was making conversation.
Oh . . . no no no, no. No. No.
This was my dad. I don't even know what to say other than that. My. Dad.
Modern American Rule #1: The road is no place for a person who's paying attention.
Let along one who's on a bike. With a little baby in a trailer. But we did it anyway and enjoyed an evening of wine, women and song (more like beer, family, and jazz, but whatever) by bicycling down to the Chandler Jazz Festival way back when Chloe was just a little 8 month thing.
Brooke was prepping for a bike ride with my parents just yesterday, and she committed a serious mistake. Are you sitting down? She asked my dad if he had a bike helmet. This is grave because she didn't understand that she was peeling back the lid of a smelly can of worms when she asked.
