A Ghost Bike in Bloomfield

For anyone who knew Paul Hughes or is interested in showing support after this loss to Bloomfield and the cycling community I've added the information below on his funeral service and an associated memorial bicycle ride this Friday.

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Join us this Friday, Aug 1, Valley Cycling will host a ride to the funeral of fellow Cyclist - Paul Hughes at 10:15 out of Starbucks in Granby, CT (10 Hartford Ave). The ride to Paul Hughes Funeral will be slow, everyone will wear a black arm band - if you have one or can make one - bring it (piece of a black trash bag works fine).

Paul's service is at Old Saint Andrew's Episcopal Church, 59 Tariffville Road, Bloomfield - about .5 mile from where he was killed. Go past the ghost bike and take the Tariffville Road exit from 189 and go right at the end of the exit onto Tariffville Road. You will go down and then up a hill and see the church, a quaint, beautiful white New England structure, in front of you.  After the service, if anyone wants to visit the ghost bike and lay more flowers, please join Caryn Stedman in doing so.

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A reminder that we've got to look out for each other out there.

Heya folks.  Be careful out there, whether you're driving a car or riding a bike someone's life is on the line.  Looking at your lap for 30 seconds to check that random text message about cute kittens isn't worth someone else's life or livelihood.  A cyclist was killed last week in Bloomfield, and it probably wasn't an accident.  The cyclist was killed on a stretch of road that I've ridden often, and there is a wide shoulder.  I haven't seen the police report (if someone gets a copy I'll post it), but I'm guessing the driver was distracted and drifted into the shoulder striking Paul with the right corner of the car - where you see the damage to his truck in the news story.  Overtaking type crashes such as this are supposed to be very uncommon, but with distracted driving now the norm the trend may be changing.  Put down your fucking phone!  The fellow driving the truck may have been a nice guy, but now he's going to have to live the rest of his life knowing that he's murdered a fellow human being.

Note the huge shoulder!

The following information and photographs were provided by a friend of the cyclist that was killed, Caryn Stedman.

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Ghost Bike Installed for Fallen Cyclist

Friends and fellow cyclists installed a “ghost bike” Tuesday morning, on southbound Route 189 in Bloomfield, near the Tariffville Road exit,  the site of the crash that took the life of Bloomfield resident and Maple Syrup maker Paul M. Hughes.  Paul was an avid cyclist who rode for the joy of riding and for his health. He often rode the Duncaster Road, Tariffville Road, Route 189 circuit, a popular cycling route for recreational, training and fund-raising cyclists.  Paul was killed Friday afternoon, July 18th, at about 5:15 p.m. when he was hit by a pick-up truck along a section of Route 189 with a wide shoulder well-marked for various fundraising bicycle rides.

Ghost Bikes, an international movement, are eerie, haunting memorials to fallen cyclists. They are placed at the site of fatal cycling accidents to remind drivers of the fragility of life, that cyclists have road rights, and to drive carefully.  Ghost Bikes help remember the life and love of the fallen cyclist, provide comfort for the family and friends, and remind other cyclists to ride safely. Hartford cycling activist and blogger Anthony Cherolis donated the bike.

Paul is survived by his wife, children and grandchildren, as well as his maple sugar and cycling friends, and his Spaniel, Henry. Hughes Maple Syrup is well-known in the Hartford area for its quality and flavor, a craft he in which he took great pride.  A memorial service will be held August 1 at Old Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church on Tariffville Road in Bloomfield, just around the corner from where he was killed, on August 1.
For more information on the Ghost Bike movement, go to http://ghostbikes.org/.

Related Articles:

• Ghost Bikes: Moving Memorials and a Warning to Drives 
• Cyclist takes on mission to spread ghost bikes all over Houston
• Ghost Riders
• For Whom the Ring Tones

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Using the Wrong Tool

This came to me today while I was riding home on Main Street East Hartford.  I noticed a bicycle lying in the back of a full size pickup truck.  The kind of pickup truck that hasn't ever been used for a construction job.  Spotless paint and shiny.  A vanity truck.  17 MPG and obviously the wrong damn tool for the job, unless the job is compensating for something.  How is that truck the right tool for picking up groceries or commuting?  It's insult to injury to see a bicycle in the back of a vehicle like that.  The funny thing is that they were probably driving to a bike path.

The ultimate lean machine

As an engineer, I think a lot about efficiency.  The entire reason that P&W is still in business is the geared turbofan engine, a step change in air travel efficiency.  At work, we're trained in things like Lean Principles and improving a Value Stream.  Being so trained, it always amazes me that folks, especially P&W engineers, don't apply some of those concepts to their day-to-day life.  Not so much that life gets boring and work-like, but just enough to improve your quality of life and save some wasted time.

For example.  So, so many of the engineers I work with have the typical house in the burbs with the sprawling lawn and the long commute.  They complain about cutting the grass, talk about their "new expensive tools" needed cut the grass faster, and bitch about getting stuck in traffic.  If they spent 30 minutes evaluating the things they like to do (consider that their value added activities) and then listed the fluff and suffering (non-value added activity, wasted time, and rework).  Consider the list below for example.  I know some folks enjoy cutting the lawn and their jobs, but let's not get stuck on that.   You can make your own list, it will be different.  The important thing, I think, is to actually make some sort of list like this once in a while.

Value Added (increase these)

• Spending time with family and / or friends
• Unstructured time spent relaxing or recreating
• Going out to a nice dinner
• Seeing shows or attending cultural events
• Exercising and staying healthy
• Improving my community

Non-Value Added, Wasted Time (reduce or eliminate these)

• Stuck in traffic.  Commuting to work and other things.
• Time spent at work - assuming that your job is stressful and you'd rather do other things
• Cutting grass
• Standing in line
• And it could go on and on...

With that list in hand, a reasonable person might conclude that their lifestyle is set up to maximize non-value added activity.  The full hour spent commuting per day in a car.  The two nights per week spent cutting grass or pulling weeds in the lawn.  The 400 yard long driveway that requires an industrial snow blower.  How did they get there, in a life overweight with wasted time and busy work?  The opposite of a Lean lifestyle.  Spending their valuable time during the week making money to support expensive after work activities that they don't even enjoy.  Tirelessly chasing the suburban dream until they retire and full time commit themselves to the non-value added list.  If they moved closer to work, down sized the lawn (moved near a park), and changed some structure in their lives the balance of the list could change.  

A side benefit of a value added life is that things get more interesting.  As soon as someone starts talking about mulch, cutting the grass, or highway traffic - it's the most boring thing in the world.

The closed section of Mountain Road over the ridge into Tarrifville

And we'll be hip deep in the "right tool" on Saturday, June 7th.  In the morning, there is a bike swap meet in Wethersfield.  Then Dinner and Bikes that evening in Hartford.  After Dinner and Bikes, there are local bands and DJ's at Arch Street Tavern - come get some Shag Frenzy.  This is what I call maximizing the value added activity.  Huzzah Hartford!

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Two Months, Two Wheels

On the evening of October 9, I drove my 1996 Buick Regal to East Hartford, handed over the title and keys and left with my registration and a small handful of cash money. The next morning, I rode my bike to the DMV in Wethersfield to turn in my plates and became officially car-free. Today marks two months.

Not long before that day, on a late September Sunday evening, I drove the Regal to the Mansfield Drive-In with Schleppi for their last show of the season. We saw Premium Rush and Finding Nemo. The bike movie was a fitting choice. Beyond that, there was something particularly satisfying about sitting at a drive-in theater in an American car with a bench seat, a dying breed of machinery standing proud in its vanishing natural habitat. It was a fond and fitting farewell to the car I had inherited from my father in 2009. The Buick's residual sentimental value was sky-high, but that only goes so far. It was time to let go.

I liked my car. It was smooth and comfy, but I have little use for sedans and I drove it very rarely. Eventually, the battery died and wouldn't hold a charge. The car sat through the spring and summer as I prioritized paying the mortgage and other bills with my then part-time wages over resurrecting a car I didn't seem to need. It was vandalized in my driveway. When the insurance lapsed, Geico ratted me out to the DMV and I was fined $200 for failing to insure an undriveable car as it accumulated dust and pigeon droppings. It had become a compounding burden in my life.

A new full-time job at the end of August was the final push I needed. I bought and installed a new battery, repaired the damage wrought by vandals and others, changed fluids, touched-up, buffed, waxed, and detailed the paint until it shone and looked half its age. I insured the now-operable car for road use. I knew I wasn't going to profit from this final investment of time and money in a modest, 16-year-old sedan, but I had to feel like I was doing right by the thing. I needed to allay the guilt I felt about giving up that which I never stopped calling "Dad's car." The sale itself was unsatisfying, but it was done. The Yuba was my car now.

On that October 10 morning, It rained. A shard of glass on Wethersfield Avenue penetrated my flat-resistant rear tire AND the flat-resistant tire liner within it, popping the tire in the middle of the busy Airport Road intersection.
 

The tire change made me late for the DMV and subsequently late for work. The rain soaked through my jacket. My first official day as car-free transportation bicyclist was a cluster of setbacks, irritations and discomforts.
And it was fine.
Good, even.

Everything worked out. An empty strip mall portico provided shelter from the rain for me to change my tire. A previously forgotten energy bar in my pannier provided me with a timely snack and a wrapper-boot for my breached tire. The DMV visit took less than ten minutes. My tardy, dampened arrival at work was met with sympathy and hot coffee. I called Geico at lunchtime and saved hundreds on my car insurance with one immensely satisfying cancellation (though I still have the lapse fine to pay, eff you very much). The modest proceeds from the sale of the Buick covered the month's mortgage payment, a practical and necessary use of funds that would have likely met my pragmatic father's approval. It was the right thing to do, and I don't regret it.

A few days later, I rode out to Trader Joe's for an evening grocery run. My own procrastination meant I was running out of everything, so I ended up piling two bags of dog food, a cooler full of perishables and a couple of bags of canned and boxed goods into the Yuba's bulging panniers. The bike looked a bit ridiculous, and probably outweighed me at this point. I pointed close to 300 pounds of bike+rider northward and began the 5.5 mile return trip.

I rode home, unburdened.




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Bicycle survivalism

While riding home in the rain from school with a pannier full of books, cat litter (unused) and groceries, in addition to a 12 pack of Miller Lite on my front rack, I realized that the zeitgeist of the beat bike blog is bicycle survivalism. We don't really race all that much and we're only mediocre advocates, but we really enjoy talking about putting our bikes in weird places and carrying weirder things around. Things are scavenged and jury-rigged together, but it's not really DIY in the cool sense (like this, I guess?). It's more functional, but irrationally functional.

While riding, I was trying to consider why we do this. It is generally much more fun to get around by a bike, even if it's in adverse conditions. Yet, carrying heavy loads in freezing rain on icy streets in the dark on your bike is very perverse fun. So, I'm guessing our attitude is something like akin to smugness, but more along the lines are a feeling of superiority of beating society at is own game by developing self-imposed rules to make it more difficult and then claiming that's all possible with reliance status quo. I don't know. What do you think? Read more!

Reflect on This

American exceptionalism and auto-centric culture go hand-in-hand. These foolhardy beliefs make me want to get back to investigating handlebar-mounted weaponry. Maybe a bayonet?

A local teenager was recently struck and killed while riding his bicycle. For possibly the first time ever, the newspaper had the decency to not delve into the blame game, leaving any mention of helmets, reflectors, or distracted driving out of the article. They even used this as another reason to support better treatment of pedestrians and cyclists. Fucking unheard of! And the first comment on that editorial?

I totally agree however even though stated, more emphasis must be put on bikers. I leave the house in the dark every morning. On my way I pass people on bikes with no rear (maybe no front) lights, dark clothing and maybe a reflective stripe on their shoes. This is on country roads that aren't that wide and curve around. Often you see them very late and although not difficult to avoid a moment of distraction and it would be tragic. They may have the right to use the road, but they also must use it safely.

I see dark cars with tinted windows often driving with no lights on. Sometimes the annoyingly loud music is the only indication that a car is nearby. Those with hearing impairments would be at total loss. Typically, because such motor vehicle operators can not be bothered to either fix or turn on their lights, they also can not be bothered to stop at intersections or pay attention to others on the road.

All of this is to say, what the hell is your point? Most suburban and rural cyclists make themselves visible from outerspace with neon racing gear, reflectors, and lights. Urban cyclists are a more diverse lot, but even people who are more difficult to see are not invisible. If one is driving his vehicle with headlights on, he should be able to observe people, animals, and other objects that might also be on the street. I drove rural Connecticut for years and never hit anything while I was driving the speed limit. I mention this because I killed an opossum and the guilt with haunt me for as long as I can remember it locking eyes with me that split second before I crushed its head with my tires. I was going well over the speed limit on a winding country road. If I had been driving more slowly, I would have had the ability to miss the creature. Every time other animals -- squirrels, dogs, cats, raccoons, deer, chipmunks, and one emu -- darted in front of me, I was able to avoid contact. I could be wrong, but not one of those bastards was equipped with reflector vests or lights. Read more!

Over Hill, Over Dale

Honestly, anytime I venture into Farmington, I am surprised by its existence. That's how far from my daily consciousness the place is. A colleague once spoke of how the trails enabled her father to have an easy commute to work-- a factoid I quickly forgot as this little world had no relevance to my own. Then, after a different coworker raved about the trails -- she is over 60, had not ridden in a long time, and decided to hop on the trails one day, during which she easily, effortlessly rode about 20 miles -- I felt more inspired to see what exists on the other side of Death Avon Mountain.

She directed me to take Route 44, then Route 10, and park in a lot that would be visible fairly quickly. I found the Farmington Valley Trails Council site and stared at the intricate maps for awhile before having a duh moment. She meant going from her house on Route 44, not from Hartford. Finding the parking lot was probably the simplest navigation-related part of this adventure, and before I start hearing all kinds of judgment, Interstatement challenged me to bike to the trail from home before the end of summer. At the lot in Avon, we tried to plan our route by using the posted maps to guide us. In the future, we will print out maps to take along. Some sections of the trail were well-marked; others, not so much. I found myself yearning for the faded ECG emblems painted on the sidewalk in Hartford, if that tells you anything. The most confusing section we encountered was in an area undergoing construction. We kept looking for where the trail continued, only to learn later that we were riding a segment that uses the road. This stretch was not terribly long, but when you have no clue where the trail may or may not pick up, such things seem like an eternity. Just as I was ready for a fullblown meltdown (feeling lost, riding in direct sunlight, and having to pee), we arrived at Stratton Brook State Park. There, we found shade, the path, and a restroom with running water, hallelujah. This park has a beach, places to kill/torture fish, and a few cool bridges. Our original plan was to ride in a loop, going through Collinsville and so forth. So, we continued out of the park, expecting to find clear trails once more. This did not happen. We rode down a very rural road past about ten firetrucks, casually parked there, as if it were their natural setting. Just as I thought I could hear Dueling Banjos in the distance, we came to another small park with picnic tables and a sports field. There was a cool playground that was absolutely deserted.
I find it utterly depressed that kids would rather go to the newfangled plastic-everything-no-sharp-edges-playgrounds than to a little one (next to an equally deserted pond) where there is a metal backhoe with which to dig in the sand. It used to be that getting a bruised knee or removing a splinter was a routine event. Now, if a kid so much as has access to a metal slide, people panic. Being raised in a culture of fear makes it understandable why children are prone to obesity and videogame addiction; they simply are not allowed to have real fun.
We biked a little past the playground to see if there were any signs indicating where we were or if this was the trail. As the road turned into gravel, with no sign of ending, we said to hell with it and turned around. On the way back, we caught more of the bike trail that ran through Stratton Brook. Originally, we had missed the loop turn and had taken the trail North. It looks like it goes to or beyond the stateline, but we did not make it quite that far. This section runs along/through another park and has nice views of the Farmington River. I noted the picnic table which could come in handy on another day.

I was taken aback by how many cyclists were using this trail, as well as how many riders get their kicks apparently training for some race or another. If I want to sweat, I'll just ride downtown during Friday evening rush hour.

We obviously aborted our original plan, but shall return, at least to see if we can navigate the other half of the loop we did not quite get to attempt. Read more!

Postcard from Glenwood Canyon in Colorado

Interstate 70 finds a way through the west side of the mighty Rockies via Glenwood Canyon, a beautiful drive many of us have prolly made driving cross country. This time, I noticed the multi-use path along the river and decided to check it out since I had my bike with me. Wow! This thing is a feat of engineering in which the builders really worked hard to preserve trees and the canyon and not just blast though....and it shows! If you ever find yourself driving through here and want a fantastic break, bust out yer bike or walking shoes and go exploring. I think there's about a dozen or so miles of path.
It's super fresh to see the tunnels for cars while gallivanting under the dang road! The road noise varies depending where the trail is in relation to the cars and trucks.


The trail moves from the sides of the Interstate, to under, to next to and all over again as the roads and trails meander through the steep, twisty canyon. Its sometimes awkward and noisy with speeding cars a few meters away, sometimes strangely peaceful and quiet, but always surreal. so very urban in many ways, but in a huge natural canyon.


You usually don't share a path with paddlers carrying boats in Hartford!


But then again, the Hog River doesn't have much great white water to paddle! Not that there aren't some great adventures to be had paddling in Hartford, or for that matter, under Hartford!


There's some artwork along the way including this memorial which was enjoyable and musical

more pics...

I wasn't the only cyclist enjoying watching the paddlers bob up and down through the rapids.


The scenery and break from driving made me quite happy!


so did an avocado after the ride!

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Well?

So, this is the type of article we're supposed to be really excited about. What do you think? Is car-free bliss? Does it have to be this deliberate?

What about this? Read more!

Riding (or not) in the rain.

For the bike commuter the prospect of rain has very different implications than for those who choose to drive to work every day. The automobile traveler need only grab and umbrella or raincoat and go about their day largely per usual. For the bicyclist, however, the sight or forecast of rain forces them into what I perceive as three camps. The first immediately leaves the bike in the basement or garage and gets out their car keys. The second group initiates the stressful decision-making process in which weather radar maps are consulted, times analyzed, and the roll of the dice to beat the weather is gambled in order to not to have to drive. This is especially true if there is the chance that they might drive and then it doesn't rain and they (like myself) are resultantly wracked with guilt all afternoon. The third group takes to the bike in the mantra of the postal service; rain, sleet, snow, hail, mudslide, etc. I recently came to the realization that I was sick of the stress of the second grouping and thought that my life would be much less stressful if I moved into the third. I rationalized that if I didn't think about the weather, never questioned whether I would ride or note, and prepared myself and my bike for any type of weather, riding in the rain would be much more enjoyable and I would have far less automobile-related guilt.

After I started to do a little research into rain commuting I discovered a consensus among all-weather commuters that riding in the rain is not only perfectly safe (provided you brake a little early and don't take corners a breakneck speed), but it is also mentally refreshing, guilt reducing, and almost zen-like given the sounds and sensations experienced. I was sold. Reading further I found that those who were the happiest were those who had appropriately outfitted themselves to riding in the rain, waterproof bags, fenders, rain pants and jackets, etc all made for a more enjoyable and drier ride. Being a bike commuter I already had a waterproof messenger bag, and as I am employed in the outdoor sports business I also had a plethora of waterproof/breathable jackets and pants at my disposal. These I modified for bike use, namely removing any hoods that would catch the wind (and the rain), and cut pant legs to keep them out of chains and chainrings and to facilitate better ventilation. The result is waterproof protection that I can wear over or in lieu of work or regular clothes.


The set up on a warmer ride home from work. Ditching the jacket to stay cooler and opting for Chacos rather than shoes which are a lot let messy when soaked. While I usually wear my helmet in the rain a cycling cap does a good job of keeping rain out of my eyes.

Next I set out to prepare my bike. Another consensus found through my research was that fenders, albeit at times the butt of jokes, make a huge difference in keeping the bike and the rider dry and clean in wet conditions. I even found a set that while indestructible plastic have the look of polished chrome which goes well with my all-weather commuter, a sweet '78 Univega Supra Sport. After thinking a bit more I realized that as I already fill my messenger bag to the brim on most days if I was to take along an extra set of clothes to change into (not wanting to ride in both rain gear and regular clothes if it was, say 85 degrees) I should look into panniers that I could throw on my rack to lessen the load on my back. Numerous options availed themselves and I found a waterproof set that struck my fancy.




A couple shots of the Vega displaying her rain rig (and before she got new brake levers, rerouted cables, and nice bright yellow bar tape). The panniers are totally H2O-proof and carry a ton of stuff and the fenders do an amazing job of keeping you super dry as most of the soaking you'll get while riding is that coming of the tires, not from the rain itself.


The change is dramatic!! While I don't mind cruising through a warm rain with the spray off the tires cooling me down and the water soaking through my shirt, this isn't the best way to arrive at work, nor is it always the most comfortable experience for a longer ride. The new set-up is an amazing improvement. Even in heavy rain the difference is substantial and it takes far less time to get mud and road grime off the bike after a rain ride.

Most importantly, I no longer question whether I'm going to ride or not, and not having to face the guilt of driving on a day that dries out is priceless. Read more!

Pesky Kids (an update concerning my recent absence from two wheels)

I've been off the bike for the past few days, unfortunately, because my dear wife is away doing research in Nicaragua until Monday the 23rd, leaving me in sole control of my two young terrorists. Usually, the whole family can travel by bike, because Anna has a seat on the back of her rig for the little one and I tow the bigger one in the trailer, but with two kids and one adult, the equation gets complicated. Also, their preschool is in Middletown (near Anna's work), and even if I did have a two-kid trailer, I couldn't get them to school then get me to work in a timely fashion if I had to ride all the way there.

All of which is to say, I am going crazy because I have a great new bike but I'm not getting to ride it. I can say that before the wife went away, I got to ride from Middletown to New Haven and back on my Swift folder, and the hype is true: The thing really does hold up nicely on long rides, with many of the favorable long-distance attributes of full-sized road bikes. Unfortunately, it also suffers from some of the same deficits of full-sized bikes, namely, if you make the stupid mistake of riding 50 miles on a 100-degree day, it will not help you to feel less overheated. Also, if you ride it to Kenny's for PHH on a Tuesday night and it has a slow leak in the back tire and you are stupid enough not to carry a spare tube, it will not save you from having to walk home.

In other sponsor news, the Manhattan Portage businessy commuter bag is performing admirably. Before I was de-bike-ified by my wife's departure, I took it on a mid-sized grocery run, filled it to the brim, and switched from shoulder strap to backpack straps for carrying comfort. That was great. And since then, I've been lugging my laptop and lunch and voluminous court filings around the state in it and it has been everything I'd ever hoped for in a bag. Also, the "waterproof fabric treatment," about which I was skeptical, did pretty well in one of the recent torrential downpours (which I rode through to go get beers at Kenny's): Everything in the bag actually stayed dry! Thanks, Manhattan Portage, you champion of companies! Read more!