3 years of hair farming. And like that, it was gone.

Dear New York: After nearly 2 weeks, I've left the building.

Photos of myself taking a photo always draw out my inner dorky 8 year old and generally compel me to find the frame being taken in the photo of the photo-taker. In this case, a shot of Hobbs taken in front of Love Cycles while jamming with the Bolts crew in Phoenix. Photo in photo by Andy Carter.

Andy, city sidewalk wheelstand. Another Moto Monday down... check BOLTS for more in-depth trickle-down updates.

Concrete pipes. Last week, 7am, from the window of my truck.

A gift from Heidi. Morning coffee from this mug makes the whole day taste like marshmallows.

Recently kicked out a few images of a few famous Utah snowboarding hotspots to help Nike with their Greatest Hits contest, thanks to a couple good referrals (big thanks, Blotto and Jer). Get on over to Nike's site and put in your vote --- the feature with the most votes will be recreated in Mt. Seymour's park for all those kiddies who are lacking a travel budget... get on it. HERE.

(Via) Fantastic.

Pangea Andy jumps his rigid framed chopper. Our moto weekend in PHX crushed; more shots and details here.

“The basic idea of this contract,” he writes, “is that authors, journalists, musicians and artists are encouraged to treat the fruits of their intellects and imaginations as fragments to be given without pay to the hive mind. Reciprocity takes the form of self-promotion. Culture is to become precisely nothing but advertising.”

(Via. Found via Clayton Cubbit, who is amongst my favorite photographers.)

3AM; not sleeping. Taught Murder to wallride instead.

My little brother Nicky, fueling the plane outside Sacramento.

View from Little Cottonwood Canyon; January 10, 2009. Salt Lake City lives somewhere beneath the haze.

Hobbs, somewhere between Reno and home.

Out with the old, in with the new. TwentyTEN.