Black Dad Knows A Lot But Grandad Knows Everything Shirt, hoodie, tank top
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Black Dad Knows A Lot But Grandad Knows Everything Shirt, hoodie, tank top
does most of his post-production work.
Before Brian became a filmmaker, he was a bike racer. As with everything in his life, his approach to racing was as unconventional as it was obsessive. There were the 10 or so years of racing during his messenger days, of course. Then, while vacationing in Mexico in 2012, he started helping out a friend who was organizing the 2014 Cycle Messenger World Championships, to be hosted in Mexico City. He wound up staying six years, during which time he started a messenger business and eventually met his wife, Ninna, a Californian with dual citizenship.
It was a joyful time, though a lean one. Brian was already used to living in the financial gray area of a contractor, and he’d endured many of the dangers that messenger work entails. He’d had angry motorists try to run him off the road and knives pulled on him. One time a drunk driver got out of his car at a stoplight and approached him brandishing a gun. But Mexico City posed a different set of challenges. Work was scarce, traffic fierce, air pollution so thick he could practically feel it deep in his thorax. On top of that he was broke, sometimes so broke he had to skip meals. The threat of homelessness was always on the horizon. As a way to save money and get healthy, Brian put drinking on hiatus and rode his bike more and more while taking a keen interest in fixed-gear crits, like the Wolfpack Hustle and Red Hook.
“I decided that if I got a chance at one of those races, I wanted to win it,” Brian says, reflecting on the uncertainty of those years and what a victory in a race might represent. Though never one to have an exit strategy, Brian began to view fixed-gear racing as perhaps a way out of his predicament. “I wanted to prove a point straight away and get some support.”
Picture Brian as he climbs out of the tumult and smog of Mexico City on his track bike, pedaling high into the Ajusco-Chichinautzin mountains, putting in 100-mile rides all on a single speed. Wheeze alongside him as he ascends upwards of 7,000 vertical feet, grinding away on a 16-tooth rear sprocket, and then coasts down the descents with one foot on the top tube and the other on the back tire to brake. Smell the hot rubber, the heavy petroleum vapors of baking blacktop. Imagine Brian coming home, some days without enough money for food, and doing box jumps to build up the power he thinks he’ll need to win a race he’s not even sure he’ll ever have the funds to get to.
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