spooky bikes

This isn’t Friday’s blog post

Posted in Random, Uncategorized by Mickey/SpookyBikes on January 27, 2011

Shaun-
I’m not sorry we covered your gold-plated tour bus with Spooky stickers that one time. Not one bit. Someone had to show you a proper East Coast welcome with your shiny pinstriped forearms and Budweiser grin.

Palmer at 97 worldsWhen I was 16 I HATED Shaun Palmer for “ruining” mountainbiking with his poor attitude, shitty fitness, perceived misogyny, and baggy pants.

I was jealous of him and Vories for bogarting all of the chicks, among other things.
I suppose I was a grade A hater, XC weenie and most definitely a Straight-Edge fascist who knew as much about having fun as I did about John Coltrane– The word Ecstatic meant nothing to me.
At the age of 30 I’m building grass Slalom tracks, drinking beer between runs and wearing the same pair of Zoo-York jeans and red hightop Half-Cabs that I bought from Dans comp in 1998 after seeing the Malcolm Fearon picture of him on the cover of Dirt#7.
These revelations make me;
1. Wistful
2. Pissed
3. Fucking Stoked
4. A poseur

(more…)

KITT-sans ’82 TransAm

Posted in Clothing, Random by Mickey/SpookyBikes on January 23, 2011

Y’all:
We’ve got a few frames that we were holding on for team riders for 2011 that we no longer need.

AND We have some clothing:

For the unicorn stuff we have;

1 small kit
1 pair of small bibs.

In the team clothing we have;

One team jersey in small

2 pair of team bibs in medium, one pair in large.

$75 a piece for this stuff

What we have for frames:
1x Large Darkside in black ano.

1x 545 Supertouch CX frame in green ano.

1x 535 Supetouch in raw

1×535 Supertouch in green
Any of these things can be yours for the reasonable sum of $820

CX geo

Skeletor Geo

Darkside:
Medium
18″ center to top st
22.8″ tt
12″ bb height
71/73 angles
16.7″ stays
4.9″ headtube

Large
19.5″ center to top st
23.4″ tt
12″ bb height
71/73 angles
16.7″ stays
5.3″ headtube

What pearl white looks like:

Because of time issues and concerns about delivery I’d rather sell these as frames instead of completes.

Interested parties should hit me up-
loot@spookybikes.com

Thanks!
-mickey

A change will do you good.

Posted in Random by Mickey/SpookyBikes on January 21, 2011

The Floyd haters just don’t get it man.

Anyone who knew him before all of the USPS provided dope and concomitant greed made him go fucking crazy can attest to the fact that he was a friendly fucking animal that …batted around other East Coast mtb pros like a tiger kitten playing with rats.

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Another Rock and Roll Christmas: Bikes! new ones.

Posted in Random by Mickey/SpookyBikes on December 13, 2010

spookytshirtsaleI must be getting old, but I’m digging on Christmas music this year.  I don’t believe in God per se, I don’t believe in Santa, but I do believe in mirth.   Lots of Mirth.  And Bikes.

Click that image over there and buy spooky fashions—>

‘Tis the (pre)season

It’s a Season, for sure, but it’s not about presents.  A time of light, a time of birth, a time of redemption, giving, friends, thanks and hope.

Bikes.  New ones in aluminum and steel.  Preseason Skeletor pre-orders, post haste.  Emerging info about stock and custom steel — all forthcoming.

New website, new bikes- fresh direction and a neutral balance sheet.   A Holiday Miracle.

(more…)

for real?! …yep, for fuckin’ real.

Posted in Random by Mickey/SpookyBikes on December 12, 2010


risen from the ashes:  spookybikes.com. tomorrow, 13 december.

Bikeage (live) 2011

Posted in Random by Mickey/SpookyBikes on November 19, 2010

New website 11/27                      413.230.8733          loot@spookybikes.com           webstore

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History Lesson Part II

Posted in Random by Mickey/SpookyBikes on November 15, 2010

Click on that banner up top to go too the e-closeout bin.  You will regret it if ya don’t

 

Matt and I loaded up the bus and headed out to Highland MTB park up in NH for closing day. Highland is one of those places where you ride a chairlift up and a mountainbike down. They’ve made a big investment there- the lodge was built with timber logged and milled on site. They’ve easily put a million dollars over the years into trail building and maintenance, and Mark, the owner has easily put more than a quadrillion of his own dollars into the mountain over the 4 years it’s been open.

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Hardcore locomotion of a new type

Posted in Random by Mickey/SpookyBikes on November 5, 2010

 

I take no pleasure in commuting, only satisfaction.
Before August I hadn’t ridden more than an hour and a half since March, hell I didn’t even have enough parts to build up anything other than my BMX bike.
When you are depressed and broke bike riding can feel like a real struggle.
Having the best riding in the country at your finger tips, or better yet riding straight through it every day without having the freedom to leave the beaten path is a bitch.
Bicycling blueballs aren’t worth it to me any more, so it’s a real bummer to look in the shop window too much, so to speak, and my mind has tricked me into believing that if I’m not going as fast as I used to that I suck and that it’s “just not worth it” to go riding just for fun, shits and giggles.

I spent the first half of the year snapping my bmx bike into corners in flat dirt parking lots, slap-chopping the hell out of things making big ruts, dust storms and skid marks. It was cathartic. Sprinting through the streets and launching curbs as made me realize that if I’m can get stoked I can find pleasure in unknown places. No bike is too small, the riding is just too big, at least when it comes to riding on the edge.  College kids on 12″ wheels is firm proof of that.

Before I knew it I was comfortable enough on the bmx bike to shred around town for an hour and a half or so full-tilt boogie, sweat flying and head pounding-straight up fucking roosting through the corners, Shit man I was two wheel drifting corners and scraping my pedals through them at 20…
A real Fucking hoot and a half and all of a sudden i’d rediscovered bike riding.
I was good at something new, another novel, shradical boned-out discipline-all I had to do was realize that I was riding Bicycle Motocross. Tricks and jumps ain’t shit if you don’t have that sweet roost, that all bicycles really are the same.

It’s all from the hips, the center of the body, Newton said so, physical mass projection, completely subliminal.
I spent hours carving on flat ground, driving my hand down into the ground, following through with my hips and snapping my chest around to bring it all back over.
Bicycle longboarding, or something ike that.
Hardcore locomotion of a new type, hot-dog, I was stoked.

Shredding, Carving, Roosting and Railing all rolled up into one, with the bald tires to prove it. All killer, no filler, 100% Stoked. Sweet lord hallelujah.

Coming home from a ride on the street with gravel in your front pocket, sweat-soaked and stoked brought back some of those old feelings of “really” being a bike rider. The ability to find pleasure in the mundane, as scaled by wheel size and contact patch, riding flat out on any tool you are given isn’t a skill as much as it is a way of thinking.
Confidence isn’t the right word, and neither is ability. It’s the perfect balance between challenge and skill, or as sports psychology calls it, “flow”.

Being a bike rider, a real one, a pro, is a sacrifice. Bikes are too wicked a creature to be mastered by anyone less than a demi-god. Sports writers talk about “heroic efforts” and it’s true, real Pros are fucking heroes, big hulking men like Achilles with hollow hearts and brutal tendencies. Dudes who lash and flay and smash and stultify the minds and wills of the men they face. I’m not and never will be one of those guys, so I have to work harder to stop being a pussy.
The “Professional” title doesn’t just apply to salaried dudes with sunglass tans, it applies to those who perpetually seek flow, and that pretty much necessitates a specific lifestlye, one that elevates the sensations you get when riding to the top of the priority list. It’s a life of comfort and privilege, no doubt.
Once, I was on the cusp. I could taste the blood and believed in the glory of all the suffering.

The blood turned into bile and I turned bitter, yet I remained a true believer in the heroism of heros.

I now see myself as a hobbyist, and amateur, a doppelganger passing in the wind, not the “almost-one” anymore and not the “never-was” my self talk has often implied.
I’m hoping just to be the guy who is pretty good at riding bikes, is stoked and likes to shred.
I won’t be at all surprised that if I manage to find some courage, I’ll find more success than I’ve yet seen as a racer.
I still haven’t found the steel reserve to force the shoes on to my feet and go out and roost like I’m supposed to.

This is why they call the overlap of Heroic and Enthusiastic sensations as being “stoked”.   You need to build the fire constantly until the steam moves the shaft with enough force to overcome friction, and the more stoked you get, the faster you can go.

So, um, yeah. I’ve got to go get stoked to get stoked to get stoked now.

I’m going to try to eat my vegetables and look for gravel parking lots to roost in to stay sharp enough to slay a giant.

Are you not human?

Posted in Illiterate, Random by Mickey/SpookyBikes on June 9, 2010

Humans;
Put down the computer and the I-phone for a few days every once and a while.

We’ve been trying it lately here at Spooky, and  it doesn’t take long to remember that life can exist without this inhuman, unhealthy and ultimately destructive hive-minded metacognitive shitshow.

Rise Above.

Read some books, ride without the phone and the goddamn powermeter.  Put down the helmet cam, avoid the messageboards.   If God’s day is Sunday, let Saturday belong to You.

One day a week- wake up, read the paper, eat food you prepared yourself out of foodstuffs not “food product”, ride your bike without the GPS.   Don’t stop and take pictures to show other people.   You don’t need satellites, you don’t need need a helmet camera, hell, you don’t even need a car to be free.

Your life is your life, not your Network.  We all use the internet to sell things, and sell things only, don’t kid yourself.  We look to the networks for affirmation, connection and entertainment.  It is not free, it is not spontaneous and it is not tangible or real without your participation.  Commerce, commerce with a face is totally awesome.  The non-consensual economic warfare being waged on our rights to communicate freely is a big deal to us, and it should be a big deal to you too.

We produce for the people who know about us and like us- if I wanted to I could target every one of you directly.  I know what you look like, where you ride, who you ride with, I can estimate your socio-economic class and your budget.  I can look at your race results, hell, I can check your credit if I want to.
Do you really want this?   I don’t, and we don’t mine information on our Facebook and Twitter followers, even though we could.   I could certainly sell 3 or 4 more bikes a day consumer-direct if I went out hunting for you.  We could sell you the bike we want to sell you instead of the bike you need.  We could convince you to bump up to carbon wheels and lightweight prestige-oriented products that offer limited return just to squeak a few extra bucks out of you.  We could pester you non-stop.  We, as corporation, have free and unlimited rights to speech and access to tools you will never have.   You don’t have a chance unless you take action.

Take back your life every way you can.  If you don’t Newscorp, Comcast, Verizon. AT&T, Twitter and Google will continue to have more control of your than you will.   They can use their unregulated corporate speech to drown and asphyxiate you.  We corporations can cut off your access to information- we can sell bald-faced lies and perverted truths to maximize ROI and shareholder value.   We can force you to buy a new derailleur every 8 months or an Iphone every 18 months via planned obsolesce.

We can plan the obsolescence of your voice, your will.

Fashion is cyclical-  I would posit that there haven’t been any truly new ideas in the physical world since the invention of the birth control pill.  Nature has been soundly defeated for half a century but progress marches on.

We are reaching the end of a wild, spontaneous  and unchecked human epoch.

From Marx to Merckx to Merck- We have now entered a new era of feudalism.  This new world, for it is a new world, exists already- we will see the final struggle in the millenia-long battle to imprint Man’s hand upon the earth and the climax of the ancient struggle pitting Men against Man in the pursuit of unchecked power and dominance before today’s U23 XC racers start racing in the 30+ class.

In the next few years, while you are watching Lost in syndication the land shall be struck by an open palm from above and and from the ground we shall slither to the rocks and the caves- no time to simmer the Sturm und Drang of bourgeois existence will be found.

Regestalted human civilization will entail a rapid process of internet- based de-humanization and disenfranchisement that will seem familiar to those who have studied history.
The human animal is about to evolve- the machines will make it so.   There are already organs we carry that have no utility- the relentless march of light and time and space will see more redundancies added to the system.  Evolution is undeniable, irrevocable and natural.  That is known.  Do you want to help engender serious chromosomal mutations to the species that will leave us poorly equipped to live in the physical world?  Do you?  Are you really that apathetic, that disconnected from yourselves?  I think that the answer is a resounding yes from a huge portion of the species.  This is a real evolutionary shift- but we collectively posses the power to preserve our unique animal capacities that have seen homo-sapiens rise to such great heights of development cognition and freedom.

Head to the high ground- head to the sea- head into the dead and dying cities and fight for humanity.  Disassemble the power structures that we have all helped to create.

Plant, grow, make- talk, compose, send, dig, ride, fall, bleed and breathe.   That is YOU.

The fight hasn’t been labor against  capital for more than a hundred years now, the corporate state sealed the deal before World War One.  The new battle is not for the body, but for the will to act and the right to exist with the current level of freedom that we have come to expect in Western Society.

Turn it all off, turn yourself on and start shredding every day.

Don’t Devolve.  Rise Above.

Slayer-The Weekend

Posted in Random by Mickey/SpookyBikes on April 23, 2010

Website is down for maitenance- 413.230.8733 or Info(at)spookybikes.com if you want to talk about bikes or Liege-Bastonge-Liege/

Back to our regularly(hah!) scheduled blog-cast.

(yes, apparently VH1 plays Slayer now)

This weekend is the first race of the Pro Gravity Tour- the first legitimate national DH race series in 5 years.   Race one is in Port Angeles, Washington.   The Second race is at Plattekill.   Holding a UCI categorized race full of some of the top racers in the world at the mountain that might as well be the Wailing Wall of US downhill is pretty mind blowing if you remember the early days of racing at Plattekill.   Cross a Slayer show with an even larger orgy of violence and destruction, and you have the Platty parking lot in the early part of the last decade.  My friend Dan’s mom wouldn’t let him ride there because she thought the parking lot was paved in Cocaine-   I know I didn’t dare ride there for a solid 2 years after I started racing downhill, as the reputation of the mountain, and it’s parking lot was hella intimidating.

Those fears were unfounded.  No matter how much perceived chaos there may be in the parking lot, once you get onto the track there is no room for fucking around.   These days Plattekill has the best race scene in ‘merica, and the most dedicated volunteer trailbuilders and race co-coordinators you will find anywhere in the world.   It’s still a morass of anti-social antics and unbridled hedonism, but passion and dedication for the scene has always been the organizing factor there.

I doubt I’ll be the only teary sap when the kids I grew up coaching and racing with load onto the lift for one of the biggest races of their lives at the mountain that weaned them.  In my mind, and in the minds of hundreds of people across the country, Platty IS downhill.

This weekend is the annual trail work/ride for free weekend.   I can’t be there, but if anyone who reads this has the weekend free, it might be the most important and fulfilling weekend of your life.   It’s our scene.   It’s our race.  It’s Downhill as it’s always needed to be.   The best grassroots venues, with the most passion promoting the best races in the country.   Support the Scene!

I spend a solid 13 years NOT racing downhill, but I’ve always been a fellow traveler.  The first real expeiences I had that formed my mtb racing career was breaking my collarbone at my first DS race, and having Missy Giove bunny hop my head at my first DH race.  The same race where my best friend and traveling companion ended up in a North Georgia hospital for two weeks with blown out lungs and a few broken bones.   Thus began his slide away from bike rider to Codeine abuser.

That first shot at DH was my first time riding a bike down a hill, I’m pretty sure.  Things were different then;

Across the parking lot, i heard the same voice, rougher and louder, coming from a Jeep on the other side of the parking lot.
It was 2004, and the nazi-fucking shithole was Helen, Ga, round one of the 1994 Norba nationals series.

I’d done my first mountainbike race 6 months prior. I hated my fucking life. We’d just moved to Hilton Head from southern Maine. I was really smart, a total dick and angry as hell. I starting racing after I’d moved away from where the riding was. On purpose. I just wanted to get the fuck off of that turf covered sandbar, avoid my classmates and do something interesting.
Helen was the 2nd”real” race I’d ever been to. My first “real” race was a dual slalom race up in Elijay the previous fall where I snapped my collarbone on my first run.

I was skinny, riddled with acne. The textbook only-child, terribly bad at throwing balls through hoops and more experienced talking to “my parents colleagues” than kids. In 5th grade I’d been a guest singer with the American Boys choir.  I’d read every single thing I could find on the US space program, and was kicked out of class for arguing about the improper nomenclature he used to describe a “microgravity environment”. I could run a 4:45 mile though.
I craved suffering at that point in my life. Pins, walls, fire- I just wanted it to feel and see the hurt.

When I finally slipped on my assos-slimed Giordanas (Shimano on the side and a leather chamios) and made it across the parking lot i found myself peering sheepishly into a trailer full of bikes and mud.
What I saw was a group of skinny guys and a chick and a couple of round guys with shaved heads, nose rings, Cargo Shorts, calf tattoos and canvas Vans Oldskools with the Real California made Wafflesole. They were all about 10 years older than me, and they wanted to know if I wanted any candy.

I ran into some people in a parking lot at a bike race, and 16 years later, I’m doing the same thing.

Thanks Anthony!

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