Caleb the Destroyer

Well, he can't be called Conan, because we already have a Conan.... a courier who regularly trashes his steed. But SPOKE's main man is no shrinking violet when it comes to treating a bike badly. Today he trundled in with his Nomad in tow, and related a story of doing a track-stand at some traffic lights (he's a real wannabe fixie goon) and nearly getting ejected over the bars as his chain tried to extricate itself from the rings. This is the shocking evidence we found.... please remove any children from in front of the computer now. I've seen blunter teeth on a White Pointer. It's ok, he says, I've got a new crankset. Better remove the bottom bracket cups then...
Mmmm sludge.... there were tadpoles living in the BB shell, I swear.
Time for a new cassette as well. Of course, it was jammed solid on the freehub body. But where there's Hope... there's beer.
Speaking of SPOKE, the new issue will be out next week, the biggest one yet, with reviews, stories and stuff by Josh and myself amongst all the usual great writing and superb photography. Caleb may hate his bike, but he loves his magazine.