A couple of posts ago, I mentioned that I’d moved into a new apartment.  It’s a proper den of idiocy near the Lorimer stop on the L train.  A converted warehouse where I reside on the top floor with two roommates.  We have roof access and we’re steadily doing our part to up the awesome factor.  Incidentally, this also entails upping the amount of wine we drink while looking at Manhattan from our spectacular view.  Enjoy the video tour (and more) after the jump. 

Yesterday morning, we awoke to an unusual amount of noise coming up from the Unknown Biker’s (a Puerto Rican biker bar across the street, nicest dudes ever).  To our delight, we found that it was the 35th anniversary of their biking club.  We also learned the origin of the empty plot of land next to the bar (where in the video below you’ll see tables set up).  Turns out that back when Williamsburg was one of the roughest neighborhoods in Brooklyn – a mere 15 years ago, pre-condo build/hipster migration, myself included – the lot had a building in it that was a crack house.  The original owner of Unknown Biker’s decided he didn’t want to raise his kids with that sort of thing around.  So he did the most logical thing: burnt it to the ground.

Needless to say, these guys rule.  Below you’ll see a video of the very beginning of the block party viewed from my roof (with cameos from my roommate Kris and friend Sophie), the display of motorcycles, and the skid mark left from a dude peeling out in the most epic way possible: by drawing a circle and cutting it in half with his rear wheel smoking out the whole time.  So gnarly.