Tag: Read
-
For The Ages
Click or not: For The AgesAll the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts. Somehow these lines are still swirling around my head; penned by Shakespeare centuries ago, they have managed to outwit my stunted short term memory and defunct… …
-
Around The Bend Around The Lake
Click or not: Around The Bend Around The LakeWhat does it feel like to race in a New Zealand peloton full of hard Kiwi blokes who seem like they are filled with extra testosterone and frothing at the bit, only to leave you for dead on the side of the road for a stray dog to feed on? It’s actually quite painful and… …
-
The Long Format Brodown
Click or not: The Long Format BrodownThere has to be a saturation point. The threshold for how many different-but-same storylines, reviews, and general commentary has been quite high since content started to be pumped out at an almost intolerable pace. I feel that a lot of what ends up on the front page of a website these days is a watered… …
-
Laying Groundwork
Click or not: Laying GroundworkBombtrack are one of those little companies with a big heart and a true ride-centric philosophy. They brought together a core of friends who helped build the brand for a gathering in the south of France to do the things they love best; ride, drink, laugh and ride some more. After you’ve got wanderlust envy… …
-
Gorging Yourself Part 2
Click or not: Gorging Yourself Part 2Roads are in thin, smooth scabs in compliant earth. Suture-work fencing is pulling the surfaces inwards. Chemistry-set soil leachate agitates raindrops. The hillside scars with exposure burns. Liquid ghosts vapourise, implode and cough rearwards, propelling two boys in a station wagon, wishing for the best. The air makes eternal sounds, scattering. The city is serviced… …
-
Curse Of The Turbine
Click or not: Curse Of The TurbineThe cranks rotated, the once steady turn of the pedals was now a thing of the past. “The easy miles are long behind you now mate”. The thought was expressed as the grunt through gritted teeth, a dry throat wouldn’t allow for speech. Words were an unnecessary luxury at this point, and there was no-one… …
-
Kaimanawa Dreaming
Click or not: Kaimanawa DreamingBundled up inside our frantically friendly fuzzy ragdoll-esque trailbuilder’s buxom Hilux, we bounded onwards into the central North Island night, lulled by the raucous and jarring sounds that are the preferred listenings of the independent gravelsmith. A full complement of beer and bicycles, brandished in his blunderbuss of a boot, told of the degenerative activities… …