Notches of ‘Nache

It’s been years since a certain fellow, a dear hombre of ours, opened a big greasy umbrella under which seedy Cycklebloggers could commiserate and stand sheltered from the industry’s funnyless precipitation.  Of course, this group of like-actioned folks aren’t the spawn of one particular region, one shop, one CAT, or one bar.  We creep deep, all of us.  We are nation-wide.

For years now, you’ve seen the likes of us:  a little more leather, a little more Slayer, a little more hungover, a little less careful, a little more fun.  Though our wrinkly, tissue-paper shins and calloused hands may not be as aero as those of the folks whose bikes we spent years fixing for beer and free used rear derailleurs, we have grown ever faster.  And we are still listening to Slayer.

Somehow, whether by effort or by the brilliant glitter of nature’s wizardry, we’ve been progressing.  We are old enough, skilled enough in the language of CreativeSuite, WordPress, bike swapmeets, and Pactimo Templates to be strutting our stuff, making friends, and riding sweet bikes for cheap.

That being said, your web-savvy surely has told you by now that Superissimo is an extremely enormous semi-global hub for elite level social media users who happen as well to have interest in one or some of any of the aforementioned skills/interests.  We’re casting a big net here, I know — it says to in Wired®.

I simply wanted to take a moment to thank the 20oz bottle full of readers and friends and Cyto-chunks we have so far amassed, and let you know that you can count on us to keep the good stuff rolling.  At Superissimo, our number one concern (after we’re done looking in the mirror before leaving for a semi-brisk mission to be seen riding in the general vicinity of the A/B no-drop tempo ride) is to pour fun and keep plenty of Rock in this big dumb Roll.

I’d go on, but Jaque is singing “911 is a Joke” while chasing JD3 around with a used syringe. Team management calls.