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V.19 No.45 | 11/11/2010
Jesse in his room at Endorphin Power Company.
Sam Adams

News Profile

Pedal Power

Green-thinking recovery center gets its motor running—but still needs fuel

Jesse was far from home last winter, detoxing at a rehab facility in in the Midwest. The 23-year-old recovering addict returned to New Mexico to take up residence at the Endorphin Power Company. At the transitional living facility, exercise helps addicts kick their habits, replacing the euphoria of drugs with endorphins.

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news

The Daily Word 09.30.10: Un-naked Santa Fe, Ochocinco Os, Color Me Badd

Apartment fire kills a baby.

Albuquerque balloonists missing in Italy.

For all his talk of government spending, Jon Barela's company sure does like those film tax rebates.

Santa Fe stiffens its nudity law to prevent another World Naked Bike Ride.

A distant, Earth-like planet that may have life.

Canada's throwing out its anti-prostitution laws.

Drivers text anyway.

Tony Curtis died.

Lobo Club won't spend donations to buyout (fire) Locksley.

Chad Ochocinco cereal box accidentally advertises a sex-talk phone number.

Obama likes Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity.

AIG says it's totally going to pay us back.

The men of Color Me Badd tell their story.

It's OK to vote against stuff.

Does gargling salt water help anything?

News

Descansos

This week, the news section talked about ghost bikes, memorials constructed around the state to mark the spot where a cyclist was killed by a vehicle. One went up in Laguna for the young activist who was riding across the country to raise money for breast cancer research.

The all-white bikes first began appearing in St. Louis, according to this site, but they've been installed across the country. They're reminders to drivers that we need to be aware and considerate of cyclists.

But many municipalities remove the ghost bikes. New Mexico's seen it happen. That bike in Laguna was removed by the state's Transportation Department. It was later re-erected after one activist found her way through some red tape. New York City is considering a adding a rule to the books on the "removal of derelict bicycles."

The problem, some say, is that the bikes are not treated as descansos, or traditional roadside memorials. Alibi.com ran a special websclusive article by Patrick Lohmann this week about the fight to keep ghost bikes in New Mexico.

V.19 No.36 | 9/9/2010
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Neverending Stories

The Ghost Bike in Laguna

John Anczarski, 19, was cycling across the country with three friends to raise money for breast cancer research. The University of Colorado student began his trip in Pennsylvania and was heading for San Diego. He was 10 days from his destination on June 21 when an SUV in Laguna, N.M., ran him off the road. He suffered head trauma and died the next day at UNM Hospital.

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Neverending Stories

A Question of Descansos

The city and state have gone back and forth on whether they will allow ghost bikes to stand. Jennifer Buntz, president of the Duke City Wheelmen Foundation, champions the memorials for cyclists killed by motorists around the state.

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V.19 No.34 | 8/26/2010

Hail, Velocipede!

Trail-a-Week: Kirtland

Mission not accomplished

There's a U.S. Air Force Base in the middle of Seoul, South Korea. If the myths of the American expatriate community are to be believed, they've got a Taco Bell in there. After three or four months of nothing but gim, bap and gimbap, I’ve witnessed otherwise-reasonable American civilians so thirsty for Fire Sauce they start to plan insurrections and armed raids. While I was in Seoul, my craving for Enchiritos never reached such a fever pitch, but I finally understood that urge to overthrow the government this morning when I went to ride my bike out by Kirtland Air Force Base.

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V.19 No.33 | 8/19/2010
Betty Sprocket

Hail, Velocipede!

Trail-a-Week: Paseo de las Montañas

Jeez, you guys, I’m runnin’ out of trails. For this, my penultimate week on the bike path beat, I had to search the map and my soul to find one I haven’t already written about. I couldn't remember ever having been on Paseo de las Montañas, and I couldn't exactly figure out why. The map showed it intersecting Tramway just south of Candelaria, a stretch of road I've traversed too many times to count. How could it be that I'd repeatedly ridden past an inviting bike-only turnoff without ever even noticing it? The answer is that there is no inviting bike-only turnoff. I made a couple of increasingly bewildered circuits on Tramway's western shoulder before giving up and hauling my bike through the grass until I found the trail.

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V.19 No.32 | 8/12/2010

Hail, Velocipede!

Trail-a-Week: Paseo del Volcan

"Dammit, Sprocket," panted my buddy Drew as I mushed him down Rio Bravo like a sled dog. "Why do I always get more than I bargained for when I hang out with you?" Our leisurely Saturday ride on the Paseo del Bosque turned into a militaristic crusade after a conversation with another cyclist at a rest stop about our mutual loathing for backtracking. "If you don't want to turn around here," he advised us, "go down Rio Bravo. You can get all the way out to Paseo del Volcan. It's great out there."

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V.19 No.31 | 8/5/2010
The autoless portion of the Tramway trail near Candelaria
Betty Sprocket

Hail, Velocipede!

Trail-a-Week: Tramway

"Gross," quoth my boyfriend when I told him I'd be riding and writing on Tramway Boulevard this week. "That road is home to the most aggro asshole cyclists in the whole city. I'll never understand why they insist on riding on the shoulder when a dedicated bike path is just 50 feet away."

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V.19 No.30 | 7/29/2010
Betty Sprocket

Hail, Velocipede!

Trail-a-Week: Paseo del Bosque (North Half)

Mmm, how about those gravid gray rain clouds lately? August, our wettest month, is nigh. When that musty creosote tang is in the air, a low sun shining under the numinous pillar of a classic anvil-shaped thunderhead, I always feel inspired to buy a blank canvas and demonstrate my searing love for the desert monsoon season by painting an extremely trite watercolor landscape. Alas, nothing that springs from the brush of Sprocket will ever be worthy of even the shittiest Old Town gallery, so I choose to express myself through the medium of bike rides.

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