Sunday Cycles Bicycle Shop moving to prime trailside/bike path adjacent location.

Friends, family, colleagues: It is with the greatest of honor, humility, and gratitude that I announce the upcoming opening (October 2014) of the all new Sunday Cycles Bike Shop. The new address is 10880 North 32nd Street 85028. One block north of Shea Boulevard, on the west side next to Sala Thai Restaurant , Georgie Designs Handcrafted Artisan Jewelry, and Jabz Boxing Fitness For Women – North Phoenix. The new location will be double the size, feature some great surprises, and lots of group rides. We are conveniently located two blocks away from two great entrances to trail 100, and one block away from one of the greatest road biking corridors in the City of Phoenix. We will be carrying all the same great brands we carry right now, such as Santa Cruz Bicycles, BMC, Niner Bikes, Breezer Bikes, Felt Bicycles,Ibis Cycles, Fuji Bikes, SE Bikes Spot Brand, plus adding some great new features like monthly speakers, more youth bicycles, women’s bicycles, and a much broader selection of casual cycling clothing and accessories. We will feature a group ride for women, for families, for men of great size, and more for both road, and mountain bike.

Thank you so much for sticking with me all these years, and thank you so much for following us and joining us on the journey as we go on to the next chapter of our local family owned bike shop

Because of my bicycle

I remember, back in sixth grade, my family would drive past the Snohomish Slu, past the blackberry bushes, past Marymoor Park where the Olympic Velodrome sat and continue until we reached our destination in old Town Redmond. One day, I gotup the nerve to ride my 1985 Peugeot road bike on that same route. I cut off my sisters Espirit stretch-pants to make some homemade cycling shorts and headed out. Like it was happening right now, I can smell the fresh, fuzzy, wild blackberries as I rode by then stopped to eat handful after handful, I can hear the river I rode alongside as it sliced through foamy rocks and brush guiding me along, cheering me as we rode together. I can feel the soft wind and taste the goodness of the fresh forested air. I would continue on as I rode into the park and, snuck around the tall gates, and rode my tank of a Peugeot around the velodrome with a smile that extended way beyond ear to ear. I rode up and down those Velodrome walls as fast as I could for hours and hours on end clad in my sisters cut off stretch-pants feeling like I was racing in the Tour De France. Pure Bliss, unadulterated. Those first environmental senses that only cycling bestows still and always will course through my veins. My first memories of freedom, independence, and adventure. My family would take that drive a thousand more times, as I stared longingly through the foggy back window of my moms Oldsmobile knowing how much more amazing the trek would be if it was by bicycle. I would ride it a hundred times thereafter, going farther each time, faster, and longer with impunity. Though 31 years ago and thousands of miles away, I can still see it, still touch it, still hear it, smell it and taste it, that whole route, because of my bicycle. Because of my bicycle. Because of my bicycle.



Sorry bikes!

Its’s going to be 70 and sunny here in Phoenix today.  One of those days that the gifts of life are too many that they keep you from getting out and riding.  On a day like this, I could easily get five or six hours of saddle time without batting an eye.  I plan on riding December 31st and January 1st as I want to start and finish each year doing what I love the most.

Ever have one of those days, some of those days, too many of those days in a row when you walk past your bikes and feel guilty?  Mere mortals can’t comprehend or understand, it’s a cyclist thing, regardless of your level.  

For me, my bikes are like my dog.  I feel a need to take em out once a day, run em around, work em til their tongue flops out of their mouths.  When I don’t, just like my dog, they just stare at me, with that sad long handlebar face, slumping tubes and all.  As if they are saying “Joe, are we going for a ride, huh, hey Joe, oh were you walking to the door, or by the door. Please, please, please, take me for a fricking ride, squirell”

Maybe it’s just me, but my bikes need to go out once a day, or they’ll poo and pee all over my house and tear all the Dirt Rag magazines up.


Fat Bike Fantasy

This is the crazy journey I will be headed on starting next Friday. Totally uncharted, on fat bikes, through Mexico, and fully self supported. WTF are we getting ourselves into. Who knows, but if were all lucky, you will hear about it a week from Wednesday. With Dirty Biker Devon Balet Travis McMaster

We will be taking a “Phoenix to Rocky Point Shuttle” which we will have to pay for the entire vans seats as they will be required to remove all the seats to accommodate our fat bikes. Its looking like roughly 200 miles in deep sand and never ridden loose single track through Mexico, salt flats, the Colorado River Delta, across the river, through Glamis National Sand Dunes, and down into Yuma for a luxury filled Winnebago ride home.

This is the inaugural fiesta, and we have a great crew for our virginal voyage. We will be riding fat bikes: Surly Pugsley, Salsa Mukluk. As for now, a fat bike, poor decision making, an iron liver, and a death wish, seem to be the only requirements for the journey.

Stay tuned to our blog:, Drunkcyclist.com, and during the week of our trip. Those blogs will be blowing up with updates and picks.

A very special thanks goes out to Osprey and Smartwool for their generous support of our journey.