Documenting the Collection, um... Passion, um... Obsession

My mother is an avid shopper.  Deeply avid.  I know avid suggests that, but let's be clear that the woman shops.  And buys.

I have some of her tendencies in this area and own more shoes than I need.  I also own many many products of Apple.  Too many, probably.  I don't buy clothes much, though, for complicated reasons I'm not going to get into. 

I am impulsive when it comes to car purchases.  Of late, I've turned cars over every three years.  That's too often, really.  I like my current car a lot, though, so as I slide toward year three, I'm quite confident we'll make it to year five, at least.

Then, there's bikes. Towit:

• Cannondale F400.  Sold to get Gunnar (see below).
• Want road bike.  
• Trek 1200.  No, too harsh, too small.  Sold.
• Lemond Zurich.  Scared it would break. Sold.
• Ibex Classic.  Bought for parents house.  Too small, terrible riding.  Sold.
• Surly Cross-Check.  Too small.  Cross bike brakes don't work.  Sold.
• Gunnar Rockhound.  Yep, still in garage.
• Gary Fisher Kaitai.  Lives at my parents house.
• Soma Smoothie ES.  Sold.  Didn't ride.
• Kona Dew Deluxe.  Good, but harsh. Going to get Sold.
• Surly Karate Monkey.  Getting the Kona's parts as we speak.  Anyone need a Kona frame?

So, I've turned over (in the last seven years or so) ten bikes.  I still have three, one of which lives 3000 miles away in may parents' basement.

See what I mean? 

I used to collect, well, collectibles.  But, I stopped.  Seemed wasteful, really.  You run out of storage.  And then they're just plastic.  Or ceramic.  Or whatever.  I still watch antique/collecting shows on tv. 

Of recent years, I must confess to a bit of a bag collection.  Passion.  Obsession.

I built a little wire container system to hold them.  I take some comfort in knowing I'm not the only one. 

There's the Bag Collector Blog.

Yeppers.  He's inspired me to document.  Ready?  (Since no one actually reads this anymore much, go with it.) 

Or not. 

Let me note, before I begin, that bags have come in and gone out without making the current collection/cut.  I bought some, didn't like them, and let them go.  They were mostly Timbuk2, some Chrome.  One or two Crumpler.  Some bought cheap, others full retail.  I wish them well in their current lives. 

In college I used an LL Bean backpack.  I then have a memory hole until I bought a Hartmann leather bag at their outlet mall in Camarillo.

I used the Hartmann for a number of years.  It's a nice bag.  Heavy, but good quality and I like it.  My one criticism is that it doesn't have a top handle, which makes it hard to move around.

I wanted a lighter, sportier alternative.  And thus did my fascination with Timbuk2 begin. 

I ordered a custom messenger to "match" the Trek 1200 (see above). 

This bag was made of a less shiny nylon than most of their bags are.  I worried and worried over the color panels.  Ultimately, they ended up sort of meh.

So, I tried again with Timbuk2.  They were doing a spate of special fabrics.  As documented here I wanted the Eames fabric one.  I bought (can't tell you why, really) this one instead.

(You can embiggen these pictures of course, should you want more detail).

It didn't hold up well, the special fabric.  Tore a little, got dirty from regular use.

Then Timbuk2 went brushed canvas, in a line they call Single Speed.  Happy sigh.

That's the relay.  Love that bag.  Got it in bigger, too.

That one, Honey and I call the "PIF bag" as I used it to carry my very large, very unwieldy Personal Information File (or PIF) for my tenure and promotion decisions.

I still use the Relay (smaller one) sometimes.  It's well worn, with some ink stains inside it. 

I like the idea of Timbuk2 custom bags a lot, though I'm not sure I've ever gotten then color choices right.  I bought and used a Eula for a while.  It's their "girl" bag.  Somewhat purse-like, and small.

Dark green and silver.  What was I thinking?

Now, as I noted, I like me  some products du Apple.  And they need to be carried.  So, I tried out some Timbuk2 products designed to carry computers and an tablets and other things Cupertino.

Above you have The Blogger, a 333 line laptop bag, and the Freestyle.  That last one kind of broke me from Timbuk2.  They've moved a lot of their manufacturing overseas (the custom ones are still made in San Francisco).  I still like them, but the straps have gotten shorter and shorter (I like a LONG strap).  I used the Freestyle some, but, with the exception of the Relay, none of these bags do much for me anymore.  I tried to sell the 333.  My love affair with Timbuk2 is over.  I appreciate them, but don't heart them any more.  Basically, those last three bags are available to someone, if they'd promise to use them. 

The intersection of bike stuff and these bags is pretty clear.  They're all meant for carrying on your back while you ride a bike.  I realized from reading online that Chrome seemed to have a lot of credibility with bike folks.  So I tried a regular Chrome, with the seat belt buckle.  Did not like.  When they came out with their "lifestyle" bags, I haunted ebay and managed to get a Vega.

I've used it a fair amount and it's still in light circulation.

Honey bought me this Keen for Christmas in 09.  It's a great bag.  In medium circulation.

My disillusionment with Timbuk2 laptop bags led me on a search for an alternative.  Steepandcheap to the rescue!  (Don't know about steepandcheap?  It's like woot for outdoor gear, except for one item a day, it's one item after another.)

This is an Osprey Astro.  It's my go-to when I want good padding for the laptop or the iPad.

Bonus points for the Osprey: it's made of recycled plastic.  Nice long strap, too.  It's a little voluminous for non-electronic everyday use.  Plus, I'm much more likely to have the iPad than the laptop. 

Enter...

My current favorite bag company. 

By a lot. 

Rickshaw. 

They're (to me) what Timbuk2 was once.  San Francisco made.  Committed to sustainability.  When I was up in San Francisco in January, I stopped by their "store," which is the front part of their factory.  They gave me a tour.  Told me about what they do.  They have bike parking, a sofa to relax on, and seem a great company.  Their core bag is called the Zero messenger.  No fabric is wasted making it (thus the "zero" part, zero waste).  It's mailed to you (all their products do) in a "round trip shipper" (a canvas envelope) which you send back to them to use again.  Their prices are really reasonable.  I have an iPad sleeve and have managed (in a very short time) to acquire four Zero messengers.

My first one was a small.  Orange and brown.  Not a bad color selection (given that it was me doing the selecting).

When I went up there, I ordered a medium zero, made from a fabric made of old soda bottles.  They rushed the order and I picked it up on the way out of town.  (They made it for me with a longer strap!)

I love this bag so much that I have trouble keeping others in circulation.

It's brother (bought on ebay) hasn't even been out for a spin yet.

Not that I'm a champion anything.  (Those stripes indicate that the wearer is a world champion in some bicycle endeavour).

My latest Rickshaw is a purse.  The call it the Zero mini.  It's a purse.  I am actually occasionally using it as such.

My latest bag (in violation, I must admit of my agreement with Honey to take a "one-in, one-out" approach to bags was acquired with a birthday gift card.  It's already loaded to be next week's bag.  Seems a good size and I like the design.

Crumpler soupandsalad.  I like Crumplers, but they cost too much.  This one was on sale at REI.

There are lots of other makers out there I'm interested in.  Honey sighs as I write, though she doesn't know why.  Some of the more respected companies don't do much for me design-wise.  I know people really like REload and Baileyworks.  Maybe someone could tell me why.  The former seems too busy, the latter too plain.  A lot of the American made bags seem really spendy, too.  I'd say that was a function of what it costs to make stuff here, but then I remember how much Rickshaw charges.

Oh, and just to be completest.  My trusty Canon Rebel xsi, with which the above pictures were taken lives in a camera-specific bag, called the Crumpler 5 Million Dollar Home. 

Anyway, Crumpler aside, I'll go back to one-in, one-out now.  So, someone please please take one of the Timbuk2s so I can look for a new bag.  I'm thinking Seagull or Black Rose. 

A craigslist interlude in time

Late last week I came down with yet another cold. This makes about four (maybe five) this calendar year. I'm sick (ha!) of it if truth be told, but there's not much to be done about it other than suck on zinc tablets and stay home. I've given up on trying to power through it, especially during the summer. Things are quiet enough that I can stay home and watch the celebration of Norma Shearer on TCM and the world and university will not come to a screeching halt because I'm not there. Besides, if I stay home and actually watch old movies on tv, then I don't have to sit I my office mad at myself for not being productive and I can just try to get better. This strategy basically worked. Instead of being sick for ten days, I've managed to mostly feel better by the end of day five. I also haven't needed to take much OTC medicine, which I don't like doing in some weird throw back to puritanical ancestry. (That and my Dad has always resisted OTC medicine, so my reluctance could be linked to a more recent forebearer.)

I did decide yesterday after having a bad taste in my mouth and coughing up little chunks, which turned out to be called tonsil stones, that I needed to have my tonsils out.  I haven't backed up that conclusion with any member of the medical establishment other than mayoclinic.com.

I didn't want to go anywhere yesterday and we were expecting a handyman to come fix our faulty drainage tube for the HVAC.   (Should I take a potshot at Sears? I have not been happy with Sears vis a vis our HVAC installation.  Not even a little bit.  So there.)

This conspiracy of forces (HVAC, sickness, Norma Shearer) coincided with a little craigslist focus in our house.  Last weekend, I had a fit of pique wherein I decided my customary chair was no longer the least bit comfortable and that I wanted another one.  After going to some unholy number of furniture stores, I had come to the conclusion that the only chair that might do as a replacement was an Ekornes Stressless recliner.

The problem?  They're a little spendy.  The Ekornes recliners.

Then I had a thought; why not check craigslist?  Sure enough, there was one listed for 1/4 of retail in Bell.  In case you're not wildly familiar with Southern California, Bell isn't exactly a vacation destination.  Currently in the news for wildly inflated salaries of civic employees, it's down off the I-5 in an area near, well, Commerce.  And Downey.  Yep.  That's the LA everyone knows and loves.

Nevertheless, down to Bell we go last Sunday night and I procure the chair.  The ever versatile GTI accepted it willingly into the hatch and we headed home.

(Not that there weren't any subsequent moments of concern.  I did have a near panic attack the next day that it was a fake.  Also my bank was pretty sure someone had stolen my ATM card because I kept going to the ATM to try to get money, not knowing what my daily limit was).

The chair was duly installed in the place of its predecessor, which now lives on campus at the Women's Center.  As my friend and co-worker who helped me get it over to the Women's Center noted, "they won't know it's not comfortable any more.  For them, that's how comfortable it's always been."

So, this weekend, what with the cold and the handyman, we decided to list some stuff for sale on craigslist ourselves.

On offer:

1) Two of our six bicycles.  We don't need six.  We probably don't need four.  But we certainly don't need six.

(That's the one of mine we're selling).

2)  One of my Timbuk2 bags (I admit that the pile of them in the front closet seems to consitute a collection at miniumum and an obsession if honesty is in my heart).

I have two sort of like this, briefcasey with a laptop compartment and I like the other one better.

3) My Tony Little Gazelle Elite.

You remember Tony Little right?  Screaming guy on the informercials sliding his feet back and forth on this thing?  Circa 2003 or so.  I bought it off craigslist.  Now, when I work out at home, I ride one of my bicycles (not that blue one above henceforth, to be sure).  The gazelle has been folded up, next to the hutch in our already small dining room.  It needed to go away.

4)  What Honey calls my barbie motorcycle helmet.  That "calling" goes sort of like, "it's a barbie helmet, barbie, barbie helmet."

I bought it online and didn't think it would be so, um, well, barbie.

Nice, huh?


So, we pop these things up on craigslist.  (Or should I quote "Your Mama" The Real Estalker and say we "heaved" them up on craigslist)

Honey starts getting e-mails about her bike right away.  The ratio of annoying to not was about 2/1.

I get an e-mail about the gazelle.  Could he come tonight?  He has lots of questions.

Now, it's time to tell you how much I was asking for the gazelle.  $25.  Yep.  And he was offering $20.  Which I said was fine.  But still, he had lots of questions.  I answered and tried to be nice.  He said he'd call and come get it in the morning.

He did not.

So, I listed it in the free section.  Which prompted an hysterical e-mail from a woman asking that I hold it for her.  She also called it an elliptical.  Um, no, not an elliptical.  Something you stand on and swing your legs in the air on.

Anyway, I went out to check to see if it was still there, though I was not inclined to hold it for her.  That mf was so hard to move that my shins got bruised just looking at it.  It was gone.  Probably for scrap metal.

No e-mails whatever on my bike.  It's now on ebay.  We'll see.

The Timbuk2 bag has gone back with its friends in the closet.

The barbie helmet is bound for Goodwill next time Honey goes.  (That will be this week, I'm sure).

On the upside, she does have interest in her bike, and not just from the guy who didn't want to raid his daughter's "colleg" fund.  I think she'll sell it soon.

Here are some lesson I learned:

1) My panic aside, people don't counterfeit Norwegian chairs and then try to sell them one at a time from their living room in Bell;

2) No one feel responsible for following up on their e-mails.  Civility and the social contract don't really exist on craigslist;

3) No one much uses full sentences, proper grammar, or punctuation in e-mails.  They don't even make a pretense at doing so;

4) Modelling grammar, civility, etc. for people in your communication with them will not result in their reciprocating;

5)  People are way too willing to give out their cell phone numbers;

6)  Teresa has better "taste" in bicycles than I do;

7)  Gazelles are played;

8)  Everyone has better taste than I do/did in motorcycle helmets;

9)  Everyone wants a bargain.  Perceptions of bargains are not shared across brains.

I'm glad our time with craigslist is coming to a close.  I won't miss it.

I did like the generosity of the woman who offered the fat from cooking her cats' dinner to anyone who wanted it, but wasn't sure she'd have any takers.

I suppose I can glance through that window into modern American Internet humanity now and again.  There's certainly something to learn.  Perhaps a bargain to be found.

Still and all, why do I think it's safer over at Etsy?

Two wheels (motorized division)

For those of you who have read and still read my homages to randomness, you know that occasionally I lapse into discussion of bicycles.  I am aware that no one but me wants to read these lapses.  Yet I persist.  It's a little like my current occasional behavior of defying the Garmin Nüvi.  I just can't help myself.



See?  My Gunnar Rockhound. Don't tell me to turn on Roscoe.  I just won't do it.

Today, though, I am coming clean about a new two wheeled addition to my life.

Here it is surrounded by its non-motorized friends...



Introductions all around, shall we?  In the back top, we have my newest bicycle, the Kona Dew Deluxe. It's not REALLY a hybrid if it has disc wheels, right?  Underneath it (and mostly obscured) is Honey's Gary Fisher Tassajara.  To the right on top it my (now sold) Surly Cross Check.  We never quite got along.  Below the Surly is my Gunnar.  And in the center is my Kymco People 250. (Honey's Orbea Onix was inside at the time the picture was taken and her Honda Magna was in the shop--see explanation below).



There it is...

Let's go back a few years shall we?

When I was in graduate school, I decided to get a motorcycle.  Why did I decide to do this?  Well there were a few reasons.  UCLA let you park one for free.  UCLA didn't let you breathe for free.  They also didn't let you park a car at all unless you lived in Amarillo and could prove your commute was too long by bus.  So, parking a motorcycle in any number of highly convenient motorcycle lots (including one right behind the building my program was in) seemed fab.

Also Honey had one.  I like doing what Honey does.  She's my honey, after all.

Honey, being the independent sort that she is, had learned to ride her bike on her own, taken the DMV test on her own, and was all set.  I'm not that adventurous.  Instead, I decided to take the Motorcycle Foundation Safety course.  It consisted of two in-class session that were a little like High School driving class.  Taught by an older guy who said he never drove a car, they were a little boring, but ok otherwise.

The class also had two riding days.  We rode little motorcycles in the parking lot of Pasadena Community College.  I was the only woman and the instructor thought me pretty much incapable.  Those two days were among the most stressful in my life.  I can, right now, conjure my late 20s self standing at the trunk of my car, on a break, my legs trembling, eating some string cheese and a nutri-grain bar.

Somehow, despite his dislike of me, I passed.  He wasn't done, though.  His parting shot was, "do some of what you're doing out on the road and you'll get yourself killed."

Pedagogically, a very weak approach, I must say.  I don't know WHAT I did wrong that was going to put me in danger, but I do remember the fear and humiliation.

Anyway, I got myself one of these:



It's an 84 Honda Nighthawk. I bought it in 95 or so.  I rode it to UCLA for several years.  Didn't get myself killed, obviously.

I sold it in 99 or so.  I needed the money.  I had stopped riding it once I finished my degree.  I must say that I never quite got over the MSF guy's warning.  I was relieved when a nice Air Force officer bought it from me.

I always regretted that Honey and I didn't ride more together.  We did a long ride once and I was barely able to get through Malibu Canyon because of fear.  She was fine.  I'm scarred.

Honey kept her motorcycle and it sat in our garage for a long time, inoperable.  Last summer, with gas at almost $5 a gallon in California, she decided to get it fixed.  That's her story.  My story, typically, is to follow along with Honey's enthusiasms.  No motorcycle, though.  Not this time.

I wanted a scooter.  Cute, fun, feet flat.  Automatic.  A Vespa.  I'd wanted a scooter for years.  I remember checking the alternative weekly in Washington when I lived there for one to buy. Didn't have to be a Vespa.  Any decent scooter would do.  It was going to be different this time. I was going to be different this time.

So, I investigated.  Discovered that there were, essentially, four types of scooter manufacturers:

Italian: Vespa, Piaggio, Aprilia.  Uber-cool, super-expensive, and probably out of my league.

Japanese:  Some of the usual suspects, Honda, Kawasaki, etc.  Moderately priced.  Not a lot of choices.

Taiwanese:  Lots of choices, decent reputations, brands I hadn't heard of:  Kymco, Sym, Genuine

Chinese:  I gather to be avoided.

I ran into a problem.  I wasn't the only one who thought to buy a scooter last summer with gas the way it was.  Quelle surprise.  Finding a scooter in a showroom was hard.  Verging on impossible.

What you could get was a 50cc.

That Nighthawk?  It was a 700cc.

50s are great for gas mileage.  They'll get 80-100mpg.  They also only get up to about 30 miles per hour.  I test rode one.  I really liked its looks.



I was a total freak about riding it.  Nervous and tense.  Once I got going, though, I remembered.  What to do.  Where to look.  How to use my hands and feet.

I might have bought it right on the spot, but for the 50cc thing.  And Teresa calming me down.  Bless her heart.

Most scooter manufacturers make a 150cc.  Yamaha 150s would be available in October (this was July/August).  Vespas could be sooner, but they cost $5000+.  Genuine Buddies were too small.  The world seemed to be tilting toward a Kymco.  The Kymco dealer was getting some Agility 125s in.

I haunted craigslist and ebay.  The same scooter popped up on both down in Orange County.  It was a 250cc, which seemed better for hauling my ass around.  I talked to the guy and made arrangements to come see it.  I even bought a helmet.  I brought some mountain bike gloves.  I got out cash.  Carrying around a lot of cash makes me nervous.  So does buying motor vehicles.

Teresa and I agreed that it would be better not to take it on the freeway.  Getting from Orange County to Los Angeles County without using the freeway is not easy.  I think it took about three hours.

By the time we pulled into the scooter dealer (it needed service), I was exhausted.  I was also pretty sure I had made a good decision.  It ran well, fit me nicely, and it was fun.

I ride it a couple of times a week, at least.

Sometimes, I act like a goober and stick my knee out when I turn.  Mostly, though, I just ride it.  Sitting up straight.  Following all the laws.  I never split lanes.  I always wear the gear (jacket, full-face helmet, armored gloves).  Gas costs $2 a gallon just now.  It cost me $3.11 to fill up the People last week.





Honey and I have ridden a couple of times together.  We'll ride some more, I'm sure.  Maybe not Malibu Canyon.  Maybe to the movies again.

Vroom.

One MILLION Dollars

So, this guy, who's from my home state, tried to deposit a one million dollar bill in a local bank. When the teller refused to open an account for him, he became abusive and they called the cops.



The United States has never issued a one million dollar bill, just for the blog record.

The two largest bills ever offered by the Bureau of Engraving and Printing were the hundred thousand dollar bill and the ten thousand dollar bill. The B.E.P. should not, by the by, not be confused with the Mint. The Mint does the coins. And has a lame gift shop.

Here's a picture of the 10K bill:



Know who's on that bill? What, you don't recognize him? Come on! Salmon P. Chase is a household name. Still not ringing a bell? He was one of the leaders of the Free Soil movement, Lincoln's Secretary of the Treasury, and later Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. While I'm sure you're now all thinking, "oh, right HIM" here's another factoid. Chase Bank. Hokay.

You may do better with the 100K:



Wilson. As in Woodrow. It wasn't really a circulating bill, so much as it was a gold certificate, though William Jennings Bryan would have me note that it was issued (in 1934) after the gold standard was repealed. It was used for interagency exchanges of money and was orange on the reverse. Roosevelt (as in Franklin) was the man behind the 100K bill.

The 10k, really, was the biggest bill ever in circulation and featured pilgrims disembarking from the Mayflower on the reverse. The 5K bill featured James Madison and Washington resigning his Army commission. History on the money!

Nixon did away with all bills larger that $100 in 1969 to try to better control organized crime. That worked out really well for him (and us). I've long been a proponent of doing away with the $1 bill. We should use $1 coins. Oh and we should also eliminate the penny. I should stop mixing Mint issues and Engraving and Printing issues. Still, those are my money opinions and I'm standing by them. Also, we should go back to the silver standard.



Ok, maybe not, but I do like the idea of being able to go and demand silver somewhere. Hey--here's a five, gimme some silver!

When I was in college, I was friends with a number of economics majors. They contended, usually when a little drunk, that the great tragedy of my life would be not taking economics in college. (My dad sometimes contends I should have taken HOME economics in middle school. I wish I had taken typing.) My usual counter argument to the econ majors was that the tragedy of their lives was not taking philosophy. I still think I'm right, but I do wish I knew a little more about economics. Oh and there have been other tragedies more significant than my lack of economic understanding. Plus, I've read Marx and Engels. Doesn't that count for something?

I'll settle, for the moment, I guess, with knowing that there is no such thing as a million dollar bill. I wish I had a real one so I could but people I love the things they want. Lately, I've been wanting to exchange bills for another metal. Why wasn't there ever a titanium standard? I'd love to trade a slip of paper for two of these (one for me and one for my honey):





The problem is, people who sell the above want those plastic card things. I learned about that once, but have forgotten most of what I know. I seem to recall you have to use the regular money to pay back what you spent on the plastic dohickeys at some point. Like in graduate school, when I took out student loans, and was required to go to a meeting wherein the main message was "YOU HAVE TO PAY BACK YOUR LOANS." I sometimes misunderstand messages. For example, Honey and I went to see No Country for Old Men this weekend. As we were walking out of the theater, she said, "so the message of that movie is that everything is going to be ok." It was not the message I got. Maybe my college friends were right. I just reread the "Cross of Gold" speech and Bryan says nothing about titanium. I'm going to have to think on this. In the meantime, if anyone has any deep thoughts on economics or moving toward a titanium standard, please let me know.