WHY DO I RUIN MY CLOTHES?

When I was in high school a friend of mine gave                         me his brother’s Van Halen concert shirt.                        Well maybe he didn’t give it to me exactly,                        but I did end up being its owner, so the point                         of it being “given” or “stolen”                        is moot. So anyways, this shirt was true to                         its late eighties hard rockin’ roots;                        faded black, bad graphics, and the sleeves had                         been removed to emphasize just how hard core                         of a rocker the original owner was. Its inclusion                         in my teenage wardrobe was the beginning of                         a new world of fashion for me.
                       
                        I started cutting the sleeves off all my T-shirts.                        It’s not like I was doing it to show off                         my guns or draw attention away from my hair                         (which at the time was shaved on the sides,                        spiked with gel on top, backed up with a bleached                         mullet in full effect). I must have been doing                         it because it was just the METAL thing to do.                        My mother did not approve of my fine scissor                         work, and she often asked me why I was ruining                         my clothes. I figured that as long as I was                         wearing them I wasn’t ruining anything.                        The shirt still served its purpose (which must                         be nipple coverage) so I would have to argue                         its functionality should have never been called                         into question.
                       
                        Short sleeves don’t do anything other                         than hide unsightly armpit hair. If the atmospheric                         conditions are of the cold variety you need                         long sleeves, but short sleeves are as useless                         as ties. I would have to surmise that the same                         genius that invented the tie also had a hand                         in putting useless sleeves on perfectly good-to-begin-with                         sleeveless garments. I guess the only people                         to ever figure out a useful function for the                         short sleeve would be the Brando-inspired                         greasers who would roll their cigarettes up                         in them for safe keeping to serve as a badge                         of pride, stating “I don’t fear                         cancer, I wear it” to the rest of the                         world.
                       
                        Let’s fast forward through my college                         years of sleeveless Anthrax and AC/DC shirts                         and move onto my post-college years. I just                         got into mountain biking, but it was years before                         I could afford my first poly-pro jersey. When                         I finally got one it was an abomination to mankind                         and a sad reflection of the state of cycling                         garb in the late nineties. I found it in the                         Nashbar returns bin which meant it was cheap                         and too ugly for the original owner to actually                         wear. Even though it was hideous, I couldn’t                         imagine cutting the sleeves off my newly acquired                         high performance kit, but I hated shoulder shrouds                         all the same. I got to the point where it was                         them or me, and since I need me to be me, I                         cut them away.
                                               
                        Since then, most of my jerseys have been modified                         to fit my very rigorous wardrobe standards.                        Superfluous material has hit the floor time                         and time again in the name of cool comfort and                         metal mentality. Bargain bin finds, purchased                         on sale, or race podium schwag… they all                         fell victim to the blade.
                       
                        After I won the 24 Solo Single Speed Worlds                         I received an email from Brent at Twin Six asking                         me if I would like to rock some thread for T6.                        I had to be upfront with him and let him know                         that some of the graphics that he and Ryan had                         put so much love into creating were going to                         be cleaved from the shoulder down. He didn’t                         flinch, and my love affair with Twin Six has                         continued to this day.
                       
                        I’ll admit that some of my jerseys have                         never seen the pointy end of a pair of shears,                        as I do have some common sense. When the temps                         are cold it sure is nice when my arm warmers                         meet some other material on my body to cover                         my pasty skin. Some of the fine duds that Twin                         Six has provided me over the years are just                         too pretty to circumcise. The sleeves either                         have some bold, stand-alone graphics that are                         too close to fine art to be shit-canned, or                         they are emblazoned with graphics that tie the                         jersey together like the rug in Dude’s                         living room. I have the guts to fight fashion,                        but sometimes even I can’t destroy the                         creativity of a couple of artists.                     

The Dude would understand.