Last April I wrote about how my road bike earned it's name Broken Spoke. After nearly 3000 miles the bike claimed another spoke yesterday.
No one seems to have a non-race replacement wheel around this place. grrr
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Showing posts with label Bike Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bike Stories. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Saturday, November 14, 2009
The Art of the Bus Chase - Part 1
Since the time change my bike commuting mileage has declined drastically. I'm still riding pretty much everyday but been a slave to the bus. It's too cold in the morning to ride the whole way and too dark at night to ride over the notch. Gone are the weeks where I could click off 131 miles. I'm down to about 60 miles per week.
The funny thing is I'm more sore now at the lower mileage than the high mileage. I've never been one to ride slow, typically I ride the 13.1 mile ride home in 52 minutes. That's an average speed of 15.1 mph and I have a big hill ("The Notch") that drops my speed to 6 mph for five minutes or so. Yes, typically my speedo reads high teens and low twenties.
My morning commute is all of 4.1 miles when riding the bus everyday. I need to be out of the house by 7:15 in the morning to catch it at the college and I get off at the center of town. I don't pace myself too hard to get into work, it is work after all.
At night I need to get out of work right at 5:00 or I run the risk of missing the bus at a college just before the Notch. Here's where I push it a bit, I cover the 7.9 miles in 25 minutes or less (18.9mph avg). The bus leaves @5:30 so I need to be on my game and get moving to ensure I get to the stop in time.
It's not unlike some bizarre art form. Blasting through busy college and downtown areas, passing scores of buses and slowly moving cars only to catch and/or race bus because it's too dark for one section of road.
The funny thing is I'm more sore now at the lower mileage than the high mileage. I've never been one to ride slow, typically I ride the 13.1 mile ride home in 52 minutes. That's an average speed of 15.1 mph and I have a big hill ("The Notch") that drops my speed to 6 mph for five minutes or so. Yes, typically my speedo reads high teens and low twenties.
My morning commute is all of 4.1 miles when riding the bus everyday. I need to be out of the house by 7:15 in the morning to catch it at the college and I get off at the center of town. I don't pace myself too hard to get into work, it is work after all.
At night I need to get out of work right at 5:00 or I run the risk of missing the bus at a college just before the Notch. Here's where I push it a bit, I cover the 7.9 miles in 25 minutes or less (18.9mph avg). The bus leaves @5:30 so I need to be on my game and get moving to ensure I get to the stop in time.
It's not unlike some bizarre art form. Blasting through busy college and downtown areas, passing scores of buses and slowly moving cars only to catch and/or race bus because it's too dark for one section of road.
{backposted}
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Monday, October 26, 2009
The Fainting Bike
I did something tonight I have never done in 3500 miles of riding Broken Spoke. Something pretty dumb.
I typically ride along one stretch of road on the middle chain ring and tonight when I got to a small hill I realized I was still on the big ring. I click the shifter (brifter) and tick, tick ,tick. What the? (Sometimes when up shifting the chain will overshoot and fall off the big ring. Sometimes when downshifting the chain is slow to drop to the next ring. It's not an adjustment thing, it's just a finicky POS setup that sometimes has issues.) I look down and click the shifter again, tick, tick, tick and jump. The chain jumps clear off the small ring. Crap.
Now normally if the chain falls off I'd just stop the bike and fix it. Not tonight. I was being stubborn in trying to get the chain to shift and since the whole reason for wanting to down shift in the first place was the hill I was starting to climb, I didn't realize how fast I slowed down. And subsequently stopped....
I tried to get my feet unclipped quickly but couldn't; PLOP. Right on my left side in the middle of the road still clipped into the pedals. From a bystanders' point of view I must have looked like a fainting goat...or an idiot. I'm betting on the idiot analogy.
Finally the clips let go of my feet and I get up. I look over the bike, get the chain back on, and collect the one casualty in the whole fiasco, the front wheel reflector. I have no idea how that managed to shatter but but it did so in spectacular fashion.
There's something I haven't done since sometime in 2000 on the mountain bike only this time the only thing hurt was my pride.
g
I typically ride along one stretch of road on the middle chain ring and tonight when I got to a small hill I realized I was still on the big ring. I click the shifter (brifter) and tick, tick ,tick. What the? (Sometimes when up shifting the chain will overshoot and fall off the big ring. Sometimes when downshifting the chain is slow to drop to the next ring. It's not an adjustment thing, it's just a finicky POS setup that sometimes has issues.) I look down and click the shifter again, tick, tick, tick and jump. The chain jumps clear off the small ring. Crap.
Now normally if the chain falls off I'd just stop the bike and fix it. Not tonight. I was being stubborn in trying to get the chain to shift and since the whole reason for wanting to down shift in the first place was the hill I was starting to climb, I didn't realize how fast I slowed down. And subsequently stopped....
I tried to get my feet unclipped quickly but couldn't; PLOP. Right on my left side in the middle of the road still clipped into the pedals. From a bystanders' point of view I must have looked like a fainting goat...or an idiot. I'm betting on the idiot analogy.
Finally the clips let go of my feet and I get up. I look over the bike, get the chain back on, and collect the one casualty in the whole fiasco, the front wheel reflector. I have no idea how that managed to shatter but but it did so in spectacular fashion.
There's something I haven't done since sometime in 2000 on the mountain bike only this time the only thing hurt was my pride.
g
Friday, September 11, 2009
ARE WE THERE YET?
I realized last week that all I had to do was ride three days and I'd reach my bike mileage goal for the year.
After two days in the books on a holiday week, progress screeched into slow motion.
We all got colds. DaBoy was up most of Wednesday night. I went to the dentist at 6:30am. I just couldn't justify a bike ride so I took the truck on Thursday.
Tired and sick Friday morning I took the bus into work but rode the bike home.
I'm within 9 miles of the goal but won't get there until Monday.
Setting silly goals sucks!
g
After two days in the books on a holiday week, progress screeched into slow motion.
We all got colds. DaBoy was up most of Wednesday night. I went to the dentist at 6:30am. I just couldn't justify a bike ride so I took the truck on Thursday.
Tired and sick Friday morning I took the bus into work but rode the bike home.
I'm within 9 miles of the goal but won't get there until Monday.
Setting silly goals sucks!
g
Mass Transit and Biking
As I've mentioned before I can get to work in a couple of ways; by bike, by car, or by bike/bus/bike (some call this intermodal, I like b/b/b better!). The only problem is that the bus only runs during the school year. Since it is primarily shuttling people between colleges and the busses are driven by college students, I can't fault them for shutting down my route during the summer.
My route and the bus route are identical sans the zig zaging through campuses the bus does. When I rode the bus last fall and spring I had the bus routine down pretty well and could easily ride a ways and meet a bus at a stop of my choosing. If I were tired, or it was dark, or even if the weather was getting bad I knew the stop times well enough that I could pick a spot and catch a bus.
Today was a bit different. Due to a nagging head cold, I took the bus in the morning but left work late and couldn't remember the later times for the bus ride home (plus I lost my copy of the schedule). I didn't see the bus at the "mall" stop and figured it was in front of me already. Not quite. It flew past me just before the small town green and I saw it do a quick stop (like a quick step in dancing only with a bus) at that stop and tear off down the road. When it stopped at the church I passed it as it was trying to get back into traffic.
By this point I was feeling good and figured I could get to the 3rd college on the route and then decide if I wanted to ride it. How you ask? The bus is supposed to stop at the 3rd college and wait for transfers from another bus and let time pass to get back on schedule. The route time between the 2nd and 3rd stops is padded to allow for the traffic back ups that occur at that time of day. Those same back ups allow me to shoot ahead of the bus and get to the 3rd college just as the bus is getting there. Usually.
The bus flew past me, literally, just before the 3rd campus. Now I'm thinking "I don't want this bus passing me as I climb the notch, it's to much of a speed demon. I'll catch it at Atkins since he's probably going to quick stop the in-campus stops, blow off the wait time, and take a long break at the 4th college"
So I waited at Atkins...for 10 minutes...no bus. "Damn he must have shot though campus and beaten me here. There's no traffic and it could take the left turns with ease." I was getting cold and decided to ride up the notch anyway.
DOH! Guess who passed me halfway up the hill? Creeping slowly past as if to haunt my impatience.
I guess I need to learn my schedules again.
g
My route and the bus route are identical sans the zig zaging through campuses the bus does. When I rode the bus last fall and spring I had the bus routine down pretty well and could easily ride a ways and meet a bus at a stop of my choosing. If I were tired, or it was dark, or even if the weather was getting bad I knew the stop times well enough that I could pick a spot and catch a bus.
Today was a bit different. Due to a nagging head cold, I took the bus in the morning but left work late and couldn't remember the later times for the bus ride home (plus I lost my copy of the schedule). I didn't see the bus at the "mall" stop and figured it was in front of me already. Not quite. It flew past me just before the small town green and I saw it do a quick stop (like a quick step in dancing only with a bus) at that stop and tear off down the road. When it stopped at the church I passed it as it was trying to get back into traffic.
By this point I was feeling good and figured I could get to the 3rd college on the route and then decide if I wanted to ride it. How you ask? The bus is supposed to stop at the 3rd college and wait for transfers from another bus and let time pass to get back on schedule. The route time between the 2nd and 3rd stops is padded to allow for the traffic back ups that occur at that time of day. Those same back ups allow me to shoot ahead of the bus and get to the 3rd college just as the bus is getting there. Usually.
The bus flew past me, literally, just before the 3rd campus. Now I'm thinking "I don't want this bus passing me as I climb the notch, it's to much of a speed demon. I'll catch it at Atkins since he's probably going to quick stop the in-campus stops, blow off the wait time, and take a long break at the 4th college"
So I waited at Atkins...for 10 minutes...no bus. "Damn he must have shot though campus and beaten me here. There's no traffic and it could take the left turns with ease." I was getting cold and decided to ride up the notch anyway.
DOH! Guess who passed me halfway up the hill? Creeping slowly past as if to haunt my impatience.
I guess I need to learn my schedules again.
g
Monday, July 27, 2009
Nutty Squirrels
Have you ever had a squirrel dart out in front of you, as if on a suicide mission?
Of course you have. Squirrels seem to get a bizarre kick out of playing chicken with cars.
Have you ever had a squirrel dart out in front of you, as if on a suicide mission, while you were biking?
You probably have not, but I have.
I was riding through campus and there were no cars or people around (a truly strange occurrence) when this little black squirrel with a brown and black striped tail appeared on the other side of the road. He very cautiously crept across the lane starting and stopping many times as I approached. I stopped pedaling when I first saw him and was prepared for any necessary evasive maneuvers, I am familiar with their shenanigans.
This guy was stalking me.
I figured I was safe when at about 10 feet away he was stopped in the middle of my travel lane and I was a foot to the right of the white line in a "bike lane". I assumed I would just slide on by and maybe scare him to the other side of the road.
You know what happens when you assume right? You make A$$ of You and Me.
This little bugger faked left and then darted toward my front wheel. I tapped the brakes and he was within an inch of getting run over by the tire. Or more appropriately flipping me over the handlebars. Literally, if you made a vertical line from the leading edge of the tire to the ground, he was between that line and the tire. Much too close for comfort.
As the saying up North goes;
"Brake for squirrels, It could save your life"
g
Of course you have. Squirrels seem to get a bizarre kick out of playing chicken with cars.
Have you ever had a squirrel dart out in front of you, as if on a suicide mission, while you were biking?
You probably have not, but I have.
I was riding through campus and there were no cars or people around (a truly strange occurrence) when this little black squirrel with a brown and black striped tail appeared on the other side of the road. He very cautiously crept across the lane starting and stopping many times as I approached. I stopped pedaling when I first saw him and was prepared for any necessary evasive maneuvers, I am familiar with their shenanigans.
This guy was stalking me.
I figured I was safe when at about 10 feet away he was stopped in the middle of my travel lane and I was a foot to the right of the white line in a "bike lane". I assumed I would just slide on by and maybe scare him to the other side of the road.
You know what happens when you assume right? You make A$$ of You and Me.
This little bugger faked left and then darted toward my front wheel. I tapped the brakes and he was within an inch of getting run over by the tire. Or more appropriately flipping me over the handlebars. Literally, if you made a vertical line from the leading edge of the tire to the ground, he was between that line and the tire. Much too close for comfort.
As the saying up North goes;
"Brake for squirrels, It could save your life"
g
Monday, June 8, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
SHWOOOSH...
So on my way home I'm riding down the Notch, just coasting along, minding my own business with no need to speed then a GAME ON moment came!
Typically if I let the bike coast with no pedaling at all, the bike can hit 30mph, so what's the need to push it? While I was coasting, I heard the sound of air. A strange "shhhhaaawooooshhh" kind of sound. Not the normal air past the ears "shhh" sound. "What is that noise?" I thought. "Is that a truck?A bus? Do I have a flat starting?" Then the roadie I just saw climbing up the other side goes shooting by my left side. Naturally I followed my first instinct. I dropped the plastic coated, friction thumb shifter into high gear and started hammering on the flat top pedals after him.
Now one might think I was trying to catch and pass Speedy Gonzales but I was on Old Ironsides, a bike not exactly known for it's speed. An upright mountain bike converted to commuter with 1.75" road tires, fenders, and a trunk bag on the rear rack will provide no contest to an aluminum (or carbon fiber) speed machine like his. In reality I just wanted to minimize how much he pulled away from me. While I kept him close on the main hill, he started to leave me as the road flattened out. In the 2.5 miles I chased him he only had me by a 1/4 mile when he turned off.
I say I'm not competitive anymore but DaMom says "If you're not the best you don't even try." This in reference to me leaving everyone of our friends in the dust on every bike ride we have tried to take. What can I say, they were so slow! I haven't done that in a real long time and ride pretty slow now. I'd say this little excursion proves I might have a little spunk left, even when it's just for ha ha's and the guy I'm racing doesn't even know he's racing.
So what's the real moral of this story? 40mph on my commuter brick is frightening as hell!
g
Typically if I let the bike coast with no pedaling at all, the bike can hit 30mph, so what's the need to push it? While I was coasting, I heard the sound of air. A strange "shhhhaaawooooshhh" kind of sound. Not the normal air past the ears "shhh" sound. "What is that noise?" I thought. "Is that a truck?A bus? Do I have a flat starting?" Then the roadie I just saw climbing up the other side goes shooting by my left side. Naturally I followed my first instinct. I dropped the plastic coated, friction thumb shifter into high gear and started hammering on the flat top pedals after him.
Now one might think I was trying to catch and pass Speedy Gonzales but I was on Old Ironsides, a bike not exactly known for it's speed. An upright mountain bike converted to commuter with 1.75" road tires, fenders, and a trunk bag on the rear rack will provide no contest to an aluminum (or carbon fiber) speed machine like his. In reality I just wanted to minimize how much he pulled away from me. While I kept him close on the main hill, he started to leave me as the road flattened out. In the 2.5 miles I chased him he only had me by a 1/4 mile when he turned off.
I say I'm not competitive anymore but DaMom says "If you're not the best you don't even try." This in reference to me leaving everyone of our friends in the dust on every bike ride we have tried to take. What can I say, they were so slow! I haven't done that in a real long time and ride pretty slow now. I'd say this little excursion proves I might have a little spunk left, even when it's just for ha ha's and the guy I'm racing doesn't even know he's racing.
So what's the real moral of this story? 40mph on my commuter brick is frightening as hell!
g
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Old Bike - New Name
I don't normally name objects. Sometimes possessions attain monikers due to certain characteristics i.e., Exploder = Explorer (Ford had a recall for a fuel issue and my Explorer being the big wheeled, short wheel base, death trap; the name just seems appropriate).
My bikes have mostly been known by their color or function: Red Bike, White Bike, Blue Bike, Road Bike, Mountain Bike, etc.
A friend and canoe building instructor once wrote several posts about how small boat names need to be earned in his classes; whats in name , and yet another name , pick a name any name and of course "the blue streak" (some of you may recognize my dog and living room)
Anyhow, my 4 year old road bike finally has a name: Broken Spoke.
The name is an old indian name meaning "one who breaks lots of spokes." This is it's second in less than 200 miles. The LBS is recommending I bring it in and have the rear drop out alignment checked. Couldn't hurt.
g
My bikes have mostly been known by their color or function: Red Bike, White Bike, Blue Bike, Road Bike, Mountain Bike, etc.
A friend and canoe building instructor once wrote several posts about how small boat names need to be earned in his classes; whats in name , and yet another name , pick a name any name and of course "the blue streak" (some of you may recognize my dog and living room)
Anyhow, my 4 year old road bike finally has a name: Broken Spoke.
The name is an old indian name meaning "one who breaks lots of spokes." This is it's second in less than 200 miles. The LBS is recommending I bring it in and have the rear drop out alignment checked. Couldn't hurt.
g
Friday, April 3, 2009
Slave Driver
It is nice to know that my wife cares about me, but man, she can be a demanding coach!
When I ride by bike to work, I call her when I get there to let her know I have arrived safely. I will call her regardless of whether I rode the whole way or did the Bike/Bus/Bike thing.
My best time for this commute, on the road bike, with traffic lights in my favor, no pedestrians in the cross walks, minimal traffic and in the summer after plenty of time in the saddle was 40 minutes for the 13.1 miles. Avg of ~19.5mph.
My typical time on the Old Ironsides, not pushing it, with traffic, pedestrians, stop lights, etc. is 50 minutes. Avg of ~15.7mph
I was able to get DaMom to agree to give me 1 hour before she started with the search party stuff.
Today was the first time this year I rode to work the entire way. I was on Old Ironsides and he wasn't all that happy, I was feeling the ride, and I got stuck at several lights and crosswalks. It took me 65 minutes to get there.
Like a vicious Drill Sargent she was on the phone at 60 minutes looking for me and told the Office Manager to have me call her as soon as I got in. As soon as I got to my desk I did just that and was told "I expect your ride to take 1 hour and you to call me in an hour, there are no excuses!"
When DaKids go to school and DaMom goes back to work I think she should become one of those fat camp personal trainers who don't accept excuses for anything!
g
When I ride by bike to work, I call her when I get there to let her know I have arrived safely. I will call her regardless of whether I rode the whole way or did the Bike/Bus/Bike thing.
My best time for this commute, on the road bike, with traffic lights in my favor, no pedestrians in the cross walks, minimal traffic and in the summer after plenty of time in the saddle was 40 minutes for the 13.1 miles. Avg of ~19.5mph.
My typical time on the Old Ironsides, not pushing it, with traffic, pedestrians, stop lights, etc. is 50 minutes. Avg of ~15.7mph
I was able to get DaMom to agree to give me 1 hour before she started with the search party stuff.
Today was the first time this year I rode to work the entire way. I was on Old Ironsides and he wasn't all that happy, I was feeling the ride, and I got stuck at several lights and crosswalks. It took me 65 minutes to get there.
Like a vicious Drill Sargent she was on the phone at 60 minutes looking for me and told the Office Manager to have me call her as soon as I got in. As soon as I got to my desk I did just that and was told "I expect your ride to take 1 hour and you to call me in an hour, there are no excuses!"
When DaKids go to school and DaMom goes back to work I think she should become one of those fat camp personal trainers who don't accept excuses for anything!
g
Friday, March 27, 2009
My Best Bike Stories - Part 3 - Tornado Alley
Tornado Alley - 2000
On Memorial Day Weekend DaMom (at the time she was DaWife) and I went to Pennsylvania for a camping trip with a bunch of our friends from college. We had been in the working world for a couple of years and this was the first time we had all gotten together since college. The State Park we were camping at supposedly had a great reputation for quality mountain biking trails which was why we were there.
On Saturday only 3 of the 7 of us decided to go out in search of trails. Apparently I intimidated the others (I don't get it). We stopped by the ranger station first to get a map and ask what were best novice trails (D. and J.W. were afraid I'd leave them in the dust. Again what's with the intimidation). The Ranger pointed us in the direction of the trails on the southern side of the mountain where there were ample service roads to get back out of the woods if needed (or desired). The only indication to the trail conditions was a passing mention of "there are some trees down". Being from New England and understanding that every winter knocks trees down and it take a while to clear them in the woods, it never occurred to me that it would mean more than climbing over a couple of logs with bikes. Not a big deal.
We left the ranger station feeling prepared and ready for a good day of riding. J.W. and I had our Camelbaks on loaded up with gear, food and water. I had my full suspension bike (FSB) and D. had my old FSB both tipping the scales around 30lbs each and J.W. had a lighter hardtail.
We started down a nice twisting, fast, fire road that stopped at a downed tree. We hike over the mammoth timber and continue down some single track for ways. We come to a section of downed trees, climb over them and continue on. Then we come to more downed trees and wondering what the heck is going on. The trees looked as if loggers had come through dropping trees for a new road and never cleaned up the mess. All of the trees had no vegetation and were gray, so I knew this devastation wasn't recent but couldn't understand what happened.
In my life I've seen a lot of local woods be clear cut for the construction of mini-malls, McMansions, and to circumvent a conservation commission ruling that wouldn't allow more than X number of acres to be cleared at one time (he got the ~25 acres clearcut the week before the ruling went into effect and now 20+ years later that parcel still sits vacant). So I naturally thought some bonehead developer started dropping trees and was halted by something; cash flow, the court, or public outcry.
We lost any and all signs of a trail and start hiking the edges of the downed tree line trying to find one. After two horrendous hours of hiking with bikes, we finally found a fire road that is in service. We then start the process of figuring out "where the hell are we" and ride a couple of miles back to the ranger station.
We're all PO'd and want to know why so many trees are down. We walk into the ranger station and ask the same green shirted knucklehead what happened to the forest. His response was one for the record books; "What? Trees down?.............. OH YEAH! We had a tornado come through here last year......... Sorry 'bout that."
Gee thanks!
g
On Memorial Day Weekend DaMom (at the time she was DaWife) and I went to Pennsylvania for a camping trip with a bunch of our friends from college. We had been in the working world for a couple of years and this was the first time we had all gotten together since college. The State Park we were camping at supposedly had a great reputation for quality mountain biking trails which was why we were there.
On Saturday only 3 of the 7 of us decided to go out in search of trails. Apparently I intimidated the others (I don't get it). We stopped by the ranger station first to get a map and ask what were best novice trails (D. and J.W. were afraid I'd leave them in the dust. Again what's with the intimidation). The Ranger pointed us in the direction of the trails on the southern side of the mountain where there were ample service roads to get back out of the woods if needed (or desired). The only indication to the trail conditions was a passing mention of "there are some trees down". Being from New England and understanding that every winter knocks trees down and it take a while to clear them in the woods, it never occurred to me that it would mean more than climbing over a couple of logs with bikes. Not a big deal.
We left the ranger station feeling prepared and ready for a good day of riding. J.W. and I had our Camelbaks on loaded up with gear, food and water. I had my full suspension bike (FSB) and D. had my old FSB both tipping the scales around 30lbs each and J.W. had a lighter hardtail.
We started down a nice twisting, fast, fire road that stopped at a downed tree. We hike over the mammoth timber and continue down some single track for ways. We come to a section of downed trees, climb over them and continue on. Then we come to more downed trees and wondering what the heck is going on. The trees looked as if loggers had come through dropping trees for a new road and never cleaned up the mess. All of the trees had no vegetation and were gray, so I knew this devastation wasn't recent but couldn't understand what happened.
In my life I've seen a lot of local woods be clear cut for the construction of mini-malls, McMansions, and to circumvent a conservation commission ruling that wouldn't allow more than X number of acres to be cleared at one time (he got the ~25 acres clearcut the week before the ruling went into effect and now 20+ years later that parcel still sits vacant). So I naturally thought some bonehead developer started dropping trees and was halted by something; cash flow, the court, or public outcry.
We lost any and all signs of a trail and start hiking the edges of the downed tree line trying to find one. After two horrendous hours of hiking with bikes, we finally found a fire road that is in service. We then start the process of figuring out "where the hell are we" and ride a couple of miles back to the ranger station.
We're all PO'd and want to know why so many trees are down. We walk into the ranger station and ask the same green shirted knucklehead what happened to the forest. His response was one for the record books; "What? Trees down?.............. OH YEAH! We had a tornado come through here last year......... Sorry 'bout that."
Gee thanks!
g
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
my fase iz nub
What was I thinking?
Mr. Weatherman told me it was going to be cold and windy this morning but why would I believe him?
When I got to work the weather station on the roof said 27°F with wind gusts as high as 12mph.
That's a crock o' bull.
The 10 foot flag next door is straight out.
I think I can feel my face again.
g
Mr. Weatherman told me it was going to be cold and windy this morning but why would I believe him?
When I got to work the weather station on the roof said 27°F with wind gusts as high as 12mph.
That's a crock o' bull.
The 10 foot flag next door is straight out.
I think I can feel my face again.
g
Monday, March 23, 2009
My Best Bike Stories - Part 2 - The Nectar Debacle
I've wrecked a lot. My friends wrecked a lot. Whether it was youthful indiscretion or the lack of fear, we found ourselves on the wrong side of the pedals countless times. We did a lot of fun and stupid things on bikes. In this mini-series I will try to describe our most notable adventures, they aren't all fairy tales but they're not all gruesome either, some are even hilarious.
The Nectar Debacle ~1988-1990
As youths we were addicted to sugar. It didn't matter what it was but if it had high fructose corn syrup in it we were all over it. After school we'd stop at our local market, pick up our junk food and speed off to a place to scarf it down.
On this particular day there were three of us heading over to a another friends house. I was on my 12 speed road bike (and obviously in the road) with J and Jo on their mountain bikes in the sidewalk. (Yeah yeah yeah they shouldn't have been on the sidewalk in the first place but then there would be no story). We were in the old section of town and by old I'm mean most houses were built between 1700 and 1900. There were large trees and large hedge rows dividing the front yards and the sidewalk. The sidewalk was concrete, narrow and very bumpy.
So there we were, buzzing down this well traveled street with our sugar loot and screwing around as per usual. J and I were side by side (he on the sidewalk, me on the street, remember?) and Jo lagging behind on the sidewalk. J had bought a 2 liter of cola ("nectar of the gods" as my wife calls it) and was carrying it on his left arm like a football. His right arm was on the handlebar.
Next thing I hear is "OH SH......." I look to my right and J is gone. I look over my right shoulder and he's still no where to be found. I jack up on the brakes and turn around to see Jo doubled over on his bike. I ride up to hear Jo laughing uncontrollably and pointing towards the hedge row.
At first I'm taken aback by what I saw but then had to laugh once I processed the image in my head. There was J stuck in the hedge still on the bike just like he was riding it but his rear wheel was a foot or so off the ground. He was still clutching the soda bottle like a running back. "I saved it" he said glancing down toward the bottle. The image of him stuck in the hedges matched the last image I had of him riding down the street perfectly only with the rear wheel off the ground and him being stationary.
Then he said "help".
Naturally I took the bottle from him and threatened to leave him there. Eventually I did help him out and pull the needles off of him but we sure weren't going to let that one go for a while (20 years later and I'm still writing about it!).
Apparently he had veered into rock at the end of a driveway and was launched into the hedge. He and the bike were unharmed except for the blow to the ego and we continued on our way.
g
The Nectar Debacle ~1988-1990
As youths we were addicted to sugar. It didn't matter what it was but if it had high fructose corn syrup in it we were all over it. After school we'd stop at our local market, pick up our junk food and speed off to a place to scarf it down.
On this particular day there were three of us heading over to a another friends house. I was on my 12 speed road bike (and obviously in the road) with J and Jo on their mountain bikes in the sidewalk. (Yeah yeah yeah they shouldn't have been on the sidewalk in the first place but then there would be no story). We were in the old section of town and by old I'm mean most houses were built between 1700 and 1900. There were large trees and large hedge rows dividing the front yards and the sidewalk. The sidewalk was concrete, narrow and very bumpy.
So there we were, buzzing down this well traveled street with our sugar loot and screwing around as per usual. J and I were side by side (he on the sidewalk, me on the street, remember?) and Jo lagging behind on the sidewalk. J had bought a 2 liter of cola ("nectar of the gods" as my wife calls it) and was carrying it on his left arm like a football. His right arm was on the handlebar.
Next thing I hear is "OH SH......." I look to my right and J is gone. I look over my right shoulder and he's still no where to be found. I jack up on the brakes and turn around to see Jo doubled over on his bike. I ride up to hear Jo laughing uncontrollably and pointing towards the hedge row.
At first I'm taken aback by what I saw but then had to laugh once I processed the image in my head. There was J stuck in the hedge still on the bike just like he was riding it but his rear wheel was a foot or so off the ground. He was still clutching the soda bottle like a running back. "I saved it" he said glancing down toward the bottle. The image of him stuck in the hedges matched the last image I had of him riding down the street perfectly only with the rear wheel off the ground and him being stationary.
Then he said "help".
Naturally I took the bottle from him and threatened to leave him there. Eventually I did help him out and pull the needles off of him but we sure weren't going to let that one go for a while (20 years later and I'm still writing about it!).
Apparently he had veered into rock at the end of a driveway and was launched into the hedge. He and the bike were unharmed except for the blow to the ego and we continued on our way.
g
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Old Ironsides
I had a revelation the other day while staring at my bike on the front of the bus:
Old Ironsides, my trusty steed of a commuter bike, is old.
Which is strange. Old in a disposable society is not the norm. It is certainly not the norm in biking circles around here as every Lycra clad rider is on the latest carbon fiber speed machine. By contrast the college students seem to buy the $50 specials and dump them at the end of the semester. So yeah, they ride old bikes but they don't keep them.
It's not bad that it's old and there are certainly older bikes still in regular service, but I've been the owner of this bike for all of it's years. I don't think of myself as being old enough to posses a bike with such a claim. Having beaten it into submission numerous times and it still gets me around with little complaint:
I've changed it's attitude with the addition of fenders, rack, and lights.
All hail the Giant!!! Hip Hip Hooray!!!
g
Old Ironsides, my trusty steed of a commuter bike, is old.
Which is strange. Old in a disposable society is not the norm. It is certainly not the norm in biking circles around here as every Lycra clad rider is on the latest carbon fiber speed machine. By contrast the college students seem to buy the $50 specials and dump them at the end of the semester. So yeah, they ride old bikes but they don't keep them.
It's not bad that it's old and there are certainly older bikes still in regular service, but I've been the owner of this bike for all of it's years. I don't think of myself as being old enough to posses a bike with such a claim. Having beaten it into submission numerous times and it still gets me around with little complaint:
- I've ridden it down ski slopes and staircases.
- I've thrashed it down bad city streets and hard into curbs.
- I've performed countless balancing tricks on it.
- I've crashed more times than I care to count on it.
- I wooed my then future girlfriend (now wife) on it.
- I cruised the local beaches in my youth regularly on it.
- It is older than the two interns we have at work.
- It is old enough to vote.
- The first Gulf War was about to start when I got it.
I've changed it's attitude with the addition of fenders, rack, and lights.
All hail the Giant!!! Hip Hip Hooray!!!
g
Friday, March 20, 2009
My Best Bike Stories - Part 1 - My Big Wreck
I've wrecked a lot. My friends wrecked a lot. Whether it was youthful indiscretion or the lack of fear, we found ourselves on the wrong side of the pedals countless times. We did a lot of fun and stupid things on bikes. In this mini-series I will try to describe our most notable adventures, they aren't all fairy tales but they're not all gruesome either, some are even hilarious.
My Big Wreck ~1990
It was summer. It was dusk. I was late. I was wearing sunglasses. I was wearing headphones. I was not smart.
I was traveling home from a day at the beach with friends so the attire was minimal: ripped, cut-off jeans, a T-shirt cut into a muscle shirt, and aviator sunglasses the size of a bus windshield. (hey stop snickering, it was 1990!) There was no safety equipment in sight with Creedence Clearwater Revival blasting in my ears .
I knew the route well, I'd traveled it almost daily to get to my friends houses. It was a bike path along my street and there was a small downhill that we would try go as fast as possible down. OK, we tried to go as fast as possible everywhere, we were testosterone laden teens (wait, don't I still ride that way?). Any how, I remember checking my speed, 25mph, and then going ass over teakettle.
What the hell happened I asked myself as I was sliding, rolling, and bouncing down the street. When I came to a stop all I could think of was "where's my bike?" All I could hear was a kid screaming. When I spun around and found the bike it was bouncing end for end down the street. It stopped at least 50 feet away in the middle of the road and now my focus was on "I have to get it out of the road before someone runs it over". Yes my priorities were a little off.
I got up and tried to run to the bike. Something wasn't right. I wasn't in much pain but I could hardly walk let alone run. I hobbled to the bike and tried to roll it. It wouldn't roll. "What happened to my bike" I thought. A lot was racing through my head if you couldn't tell.
The scream soundtrack that I had been hearing since the moment of impact was from a 3-4 year old boy whose 7-8 year old brother I'd just hit. Once their mother calmed down the younger boy, the older boy unleashed a tongue lashing on me that only a sailor could give. He's was blaming me for intentionally hitting him. Hitting someone or something on a bike is not something one does intentionally.
Here's the rundown, so to speak; As I was coming down the hill, I checked the speedometer and veered to the left slightly. Just beyond a wooded section these kids were coming up out of a hollow out of their driveway. I never saw them or heard them.
Their mom saw how bad I was looking and figured her kids were OK and she took me home. Once at the hospital they X-Rays showed the tendon on my big toe had parted ways with the bone. Doctors recommendation: Don't try to move your toe for 4-6 weeks! Gee thanks.
Aside from the toe (which effectively prevented me from walking without crutches) I was a hurting unit. My palms, elbows, knees, and shoulders all had bad road rash. My hip was bruised from the walkman and the CCR tape was ground down after the door to the walkman was chewed off. The tape still plays by the way.
The bike was battered; potato chip like wheels, bent fork, ripped seat and bar tape, and scratched all over.
So what's the moral to the story? Always wear a helmet, gloves, appropriate eye wear for the conditions and never, EVER wear headphones on a bike.
g
My Big Wreck ~1990
It was summer. It was dusk. I was late. I was wearing sunglasses. I was wearing headphones. I was not smart.
I was traveling home from a day at the beach with friends so the attire was minimal: ripped, cut-off jeans, a T-shirt cut into a muscle shirt, and aviator sunglasses the size of a bus windshield. (hey stop snickering, it was 1990!) There was no safety equipment in sight with Creedence Clearwater Revival blasting in my ears .
I knew the route well, I'd traveled it almost daily to get to my friends houses. It was a bike path along my street and there was a small downhill that we would try go as fast as possible down. OK, we tried to go as fast as possible everywhere, we were testosterone laden teens (wait, don't I still ride that way?). Any how, I remember checking my speed, 25mph, and then going ass over teakettle.
What the hell happened I asked myself as I was sliding, rolling, and bouncing down the street. When I came to a stop all I could think of was "where's my bike?" All I could hear was a kid screaming. When I spun around and found the bike it was bouncing end for end down the street. It stopped at least 50 feet away in the middle of the road and now my focus was on "I have to get it out of the road before someone runs it over". Yes my priorities were a little off.
I got up and tried to run to the bike. Something wasn't right. I wasn't in much pain but I could hardly walk let alone run. I hobbled to the bike and tried to roll it. It wouldn't roll. "What happened to my bike" I thought. A lot was racing through my head if you couldn't tell.
The scream soundtrack that I had been hearing since the moment of impact was from a 3-4 year old boy whose 7-8 year old brother I'd just hit. Once their mother calmed down the younger boy, the older boy unleashed a tongue lashing on me that only a sailor could give. He's was blaming me for intentionally hitting him. Hitting someone or something on a bike is not something one does intentionally.
Here's the rundown, so to speak; As I was coming down the hill, I checked the speedometer and veered to the left slightly. Just beyond a wooded section these kids were coming up out of a hollow out of their driveway. I never saw them or heard them.
Their mom saw how bad I was looking and figured her kids were OK and she took me home. Once at the hospital they X-Rays showed the tendon on my big toe had parted ways with the bone. Doctors recommendation: Don't try to move your toe for 4-6 weeks! Gee thanks.
Aside from the toe (which effectively prevented me from walking without crutches) I was a hurting unit. My palms, elbows, knees, and shoulders all had bad road rash. My hip was bruised from the walkman and the CCR tape was ground down after the door to the walkman was chewed off. The tape still plays by the way.
The bike was battered; potato chip like wheels, bent fork, ripped seat and bar tape, and scratched all over.
So what's the moral to the story? Always wear a helmet, gloves, appropriate eye wear for the conditions and never, EVER wear headphones on a bike.
g
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