Saturday, February 09, 2008

frenchie freakbike!

a bike with a dashboard!

and a saddle the size of a small dog

Yet people love them.
These are the public VĂ©lib bikes in Paris. There are about 25,000 of them at 15,000 rental stations across the city. The first half hour is free and then its only a few euros after that.

Vive la freaky bicyclette!

Toowa Dow Nunda

"..But will it be all right your Supremeness Sir?"..."will we fit into the hole, Mr Overlord?"
Such was the anxious state of the Boneshakers before embarking on their first subterranean mission. In fact the average Boneshaker dimension of 1m x 1m combined with a naturally greasy outer layer is perfect for drain exploration. But more of that later.
After meeting at the weir the two premier Adelaide bike collectives headed down Hindley St then onward through the Friday evening crowds in Rundle Mall where we managed to make friends by harassing and crashing into various individuals. Then, barely pausing to yell at metrosexuals enjoying their al fresco lattechinos, we arrived at the Exeter. There we learnt of the secret legal drinking post after Bill Bone charmed the bouncers with his usual threats of homo-erotic contest. Then we hooked up with the ubiquitous Mr J Stash and his mobile sounds empire. Naturally he was up for going down so we blew out of the metrosexually saturated Rundle St. The Supreme One and Pasco Bone headed to Mal Content's for some herbal supplies then rendeavoused (oh so frawnch) with the main crew at the Arab Steed. It was here, as we observed Pamela Bone lying under his tasty new chopper "Rough Tongue Arse Bone Crack" in the middle of Hutt St, that we decided he might be a bit pissed, even by Tongue/Bone standards. Never the less we were on a mission so it was off to underground portal # 1 pausing briefly for some Tongue v Bone homo-erotic contest. Although Jungle Massive spent most of the bout inverted The Totally Impartial Supreme Overlord believes he came out on top in a pinned-helplessly-to-the-ground-kind-of-way. Finally we arrived drainside where we undertook to lower ourselves and macines, including 750+kgs of J-Stash velo-prime mover and sound studio, into the dripping primordial depths. This was all done with the natural stealthy quiet of your average pissed AFL cheer squad. Then it was 5km's of blissful eerie chopper cruising with the J-Stash sound system pounding out bass. Yes it is important to be equipped with tunes for this kind of operation. After an hour of beautifully creepy travelling we emerged for a bit of smoke flare action and a beer at the Hackney. From here we went our various ways
which for Bill, Steve, Aaron and Pamela Bone meant the last train from town. It was at the Adelaide train station that the Constabulary found Pamela languishing under his chopper at their very feet and decided it would be best for all if he spent the night in the comfy surrounds of the watch house until his Mum could pick him up in the morning.