Friday, January 4, 2013

Ogre, Again

If you've ever been unfortunate enough to ask me about my Surly Ogre, you know that I'll talk until your ears bleed. It was such an incredible mountain bike this past summer and fall that I've enrolled in  an Introductory Ogre Languages class. 

Winter finally descended upon the front range, and while local trails are a mess, I refuse to hang up the big green machine. Ogres do not hibernate. 

Those are Schwalbe Ice Spiker tires, and their being awesome beyond description won't stop my from trying. Their awesomeness is infinite. They will not lose traction on anything, including a unwary pedestrian's eyeglasses. Really, you could ride straight up Donald Trump's ego with these tires. 

Obviously the Ogre can't compete with fatbikes in deep snow, but in the city where there is frequently a  layer of icy packed snow under a few inches of powder, the Ogre is winter commuting perfection. Those little ridges of frozen slush that try to slap your front wheel out from under you? The Ogre eats those for breakfast, farting out little ice crystals as it goes. 

With a Salsa Anything Cage, you can carry your thermos, too. My wife and I spent a lovely evening riding around the city looking at holiday lights and drinking eggnog. It was the first time I've felt like a kid during the holidays since, well, since I was a kid. 

Speaking of lights, I received this thing at a White Elephant party:

Actually, I received it and it was stolen, and then I opened another one and it was stolen, too, and then the Ogre and I stormed a castle and stole one of them back. It is a Monkey Light and it is neat. Yeah, take that, darkness.

Here's a picture I didn't take:

Multi-colored hearts? You may think my Ogre is too tough for these. Well, know this: the Ogre fears no love.

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