When you should not ride a bike

It's a beautiful day today; happy Valentine's Day!

Yesterday, Salem and I rode up to Congamond to spectate the NEMBA ice race thingy. My right knee has been bothering me with increasing intensity and frequency lately. I think it's because I smashed it into a root and rock about a month ago. Some think it's because I have new shoes and the cleats aren't lined up perfectly. I lean towards the smashing, because I've never had cleat or float problems affect me while walking and this has started hurting me while I walk. Maybe that whole "shoes ruse" thing is correct, but I'm still blaming the root and rock. I almost didn't go yesterday because of my knee, but I shift my cleat a bit and I seemed ok riding to Constitution Plaza. So, we journeyed up and back. It was very nice. My knee started complaining a bit, but then when kinda numb and everything seemed ok.

This morning, there was a mountain bike ride at Meshomasic State Forest that Salem to which alerted me. My knee started to hurt me last night a bit, but I hoped I could either sleep it off or scare the pain with whiskey.


I woke and it was ok, but the more I used it the worse it felt. I debated going some more and sort of took my time getting ready, perhaps to erode my resolve. The bike still went in the car and was driven over to Glastonbury. Taking my time brought me there about ten minutes after the 9:30am start time of the ride, but I made out only one set of tire tracks, so I thought I might be able to catch up. That very quickly became an impossible proposition because my knee hurt so bad that I was only able curse at myself for getting out of bed. None the less, I followed the tire tracks for a good four miles before eventually giving up at riding back to my car. Ugh.

So, the lesson, I think, is that you should not ride if it hurts. Read more!

Dear Jenny

In October I walked into a bicycle and sandwich shop in Provincetown, almost as an afterthought before leaving town. It was a blustery day in the off-season -- which I contend is the only time to see Cape Cod – and our visit to the Edward Gorey House was the priority item on the itinerary for the day. Going into the bike shop made me feel like a little kid again, in that I wanted just about everything there, but could not afford anything at the time.

There were picnic backpacks more practical than baskets, but less aesthetically pleasing. Even on sale, they were more than the $10 I had given myself as a vacation allowance. There were colorful horns in the shape of pig heads. Weeks later, while watching a documentary about one of the entertainment venues in town, I learned that the awards granted to drag queens were these horns, but repainted metallic colors. The store was geared toward tourists, but was not filled with the typical schlock. To me, it seemed intended for the person who was so inspired by the beauty of the Cape as to suddenly need picnic and cycling equipment. Somehow, having gone to Provincetown every autumn for the last five years, I had never stopped into the shop.

I do not remember exactly how it happened. Maybe Interstatement pointed her out to me or maybe I stumbled upon her myself, but it was love at first sight.

I notice color. Her strong, yellow frame radiated amidst rows of boring navy and black frame bikes. Her handlebar grips and saddle were both leather with visible x's of stitching on the grips. This was a bicycle that begged to be ridden proudly about town, along the beach, and through the beech forest. Her name: Schwinn Jenny.

After a bit of swooning, we departed, heading back into the cold, October rainstorm. Try as I might, I could not get her out of my head. I fantasized about riding her around town. These were not general fantasies, but detailed ones that included various outfits and destinations.

Then it occurred to me. What if she's good to take 'round the block a few times, but doesn't have what it takes to go the distance? What if she's all style and no substance? Like any love-struck fool, I stalked conducted some research before making a move. Who else had taken her out? Did she disappoint? Did anyone actually ride her 'til the wheels fell off? Ten pages worth of Google searches showed that nobody out there has been talkin' smack about my Jenny. On to phase two.

I recently adventured out to WilliRico with Interstatement because he wanted to visit Scott's Cyclery, and I gravitate toward old factory towns, especially ones I spent lots of time in during the 90s. This is another place I somehow never stepped foot in, even though I was in Willimantic at least three days a week for four years. I was not even 100% positive where it was on Main Street, and as a result, we schlepped a heavy folding bike from where we parked on the other end of the downtown. While he barraged the owner with questions about things I did not have any vested interested in, I wandered around the store, this time feeling less oppressed by my financial situation; soon, I could spend a little money again.

Among the new bicycles and related equipment were some old-as-dirt bikes, including a Bone Shaker. I quickly found an inexpensive set of fenders for my daily bike. There was a nice range of bicycles that I would actually ride in the shop (i.e. not those crazy racing bikes with curvy handlebars that do absolutely nothing for me aesthetically or physically) and after exhausting the main part of the store, I headed back toward the repair section. It was here where I saw her: my Jenny. She was next to an adult Trike, folding bike, and the BoneShaker.

My heartbeat quickened. I inched the surrounding bikes away from her so that I could marvel at close range. Things blurred. Next thing I knew, a worker was holding my credit card as collateral and I was putting on a helmet so I could ride Jenny around the block. Only days after a snowstorm, the roads were gritty and a little icy. There was no slipping or skidding. She shifted gears without a hiccup as I headed up the hill toward the hospital. If I could have ridden home, I might have just kept going, not because stealing from a local bike shop is cool, but because it ached to return her. I promised the clerk that I would return in a few weeks for her.

When the big day arrived, I called ahead to make sure Jenny was still there. It would have been a long drive followed by a hard letdown had I arrived to see her spot in the shop vacant.



Our first time was not in the middle of a sunny afternoon like I'd imagined, but late at night. Every jolting pot hole was muted by her springy saddle. The return trip home was even later, nearing four in the morning. She softened the blow of being awake at that hour.

Our first real time together, though, when everything jived, was only just today. It was in the mid-30s, bright, and a relaxing end to a chaotic week. She beckoned.

We meandered out of Frog Hollow and arrived at Constitution Plaza downtown. The paved path along the Connecticut River was cleared of snow and ice more than most sidewalks I have seen this week. We passed a handful of people out enjoying Riverside Park. After taking a few victory laps in the parking lot by the Boathouse, we headed down the unpaved path. This was a rougher ride. The Jenny handled better in the snow and on loose rock than I was expecting her to.

We saw animal tracks, a sign warning us of the firing range, and a tree that was mislabeled with a poster that read "bike." She shifted effortlessly on hills. Even with the layer of snow, she put on the brakes faster than my other bicycles are able to in dry conditions. She handled the mud just fine, thankyou. Most importantly, I did not humiliate myself by falling off her during our first daytime ride.

On the way home I spotted the Barrio Style bike and his owner. It was like getting a glimpse at a celebrity while wearing Prada and riding in a limo, for a change. Except in this case, the limo was my Jenny, and she was looking foxier than any car I have seen in this area.
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Icicle Bicycle

Should there be any readers who wish to be riders Saturday, Brendan and I will be pedaling up to the NEMBA ice races on Lake Congamond.
http://www.nemba.org/forums/showthread.php?t=24948

Plan to depart from underneath the western pointy end of Phoenix building up on Constitution Plaza (above street level) at 11am. At the risk on being noninclusive, the ride will be about 50 miles round trip, and while speed, testosterone, and competitive forms of estrogen should be left at home, something just shy a 15mph pace is needed to get us to the lake in good time. Bring shoes that work for walking as some of the usually bikeable shortcuts may have a covering of the white stuff.

Remember, ice and F150s apparently literally mix, but not in a good way.

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a little Key Wierdness to warm your day

Handcuffs for bike locks are as common as rusty fenders here in Key West; but this awesomely strange combination of handlebar and bar ends is certainly not. I wondered who the rider was as I passed this bicycle going into the Bottle Cap Lounge as well as when I left. Perhaps the owner was sitting next to me? Perhaps they are seven or eight feet tall? Or enjoy riding standing up with good posture? I dunno, but bless them for making me smile!


Many people here simply do not have cars and use bicycles for everything; commuting to work, grocery shopping and towing their jet-skis! This dude prolly ain't getting into the large chainring anytime soon.


A fixie with a basket isn't too weird, but jumping sharks!?!? Really!?! Luckily we didn't have to dodge any this night during our pier tour. I bet a bite from one would mos def leave a bruise.


But...if a jumping shark had attacked us, I would have whipped out my sword and used my pirate skills to battle to the death! I have also found it to be very effective when drunk tourists stumble into the street in front of me while riding. A loudly yelled "ARRRRRRR" and a sword over my head usually sends them running back to a sidewalk of laughing bystanders. (yeah, go ahead and call me trash for not yet taking down my Christmas lights!)



We've all seen the Hartford messengers stacking their fixies on parking meters and poles in front of Mad Dawgs, Vegas and other spots. Well, down here in Key Weird, we hang our cruisers in trees when going out for swanky dinners. There's actually a second cruiser in the back of the tree and both are locked up in the branches.

a few more after the jump...




This installation, part of Sculpture Key West can be found at Fort Zack until April. Have a seat here in the shade if the sun and beach gets too hot for you.



Considering I took this during the Holiday Lights Bicycle Tour, it isn't really weird. There were also a few other bicycles with dogs, actually a lot, but only one trike with a dog and so many lights. Well done!


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Ice bike to PLAY day

Booming announcer: "Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, race fans, fans, fans..."
Enough of that, but more to the point, NEMBA will be hosting ice races on Lake Congamond (on the MA/CT border near Granby). I will likely ride up there, so in case there is interest in doing the same, I will post a time and meeting in Hartford here tomorrow should others wish to join in spectating, or even racing after a hearty warm-up.

More info: http://www.nemba.org/forums/showthread.php?t=24948
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Uncommon Gear

I spent a happy portion of my late teens and early twenties meandering around the northeast quadrant of the US. My scaled-down version of the full-fledged American RV experience replaced the Class A Winnebago with a 1972 VW Campmobile and the tow-behind dinghy with a bike or two.

I recently found this Shimano Biopace-equipped hubcap, which lived on the right (drive side) front wheel of my rig. The 42-tooth chainwheel was on the right rear wheel to aid with hill-climbing. Read more!

Beer run

Sometimes when it snows, you decide not to ride your bike and instead stalk a herd of deer through the woods around Cedar Hill Cemetery on your way to the liquor store. Read more!

Bikes Outside: Barrio Style

Today 's Bikes Outside feature is my favorite thus far. Somebody obviously put a lot of time and care into decorating this cruiser-style bike and I really like that. It gets bonus points for D.I.Y. resourcefulness, as the multicolor striping you see there is all neatly-applied strips of colored duct tape. I spotted this one on Park Street in Frog Hollow. The Spanish-speaking owner came out as I was photographing it and was good-natured, if somewhat mystified at my interest in it. Our verbal exchange was brief, as my own particular brand of French-inflected Spanglish serves as little more than an efficient way to confuse and alienate speakers of all three contributing languages. It's kind of sad, really. I need to work on that.


In this bike's owner, we have personified the nullification of every excuse anyone has ever given for not riding. You think you're too old? Unless you are well into your 70's or older, this man has you beat. Too cold? Temps were in the low 20's this particular afternoon. Are you too tired, too sore, too out of shape? I invite you to check out the custom cane mount. This man walks with a cane, hooks it on to the rack and frame of his heavy single-speed bike and rides on. The majority of Hartford's cycling public (myself included) look a bit more wussy all of a sudden. You sir, are awesome. That's très imponente!

Now stop reading this, bundle up and go for a ride. No excuses! Read more!

Reverie

Sunday mornings often find me on Clark Street, and subsequently taking a ride through Keney Park. It's a nice way to clear my head. I lost a cousin in a motorcycle accident this past week, so I was especially appreciative of this morning's brisk ride. I didn't see another person inside the park, which made it all the more peaceful and reflective. This was just what I needed. The weather was bright and beautiful, more picturesque than my last overcast trip down this particular path.

The snow on the path was crunchy and compacted, well-suited to the smooth and relatively skinny 40+ year old tires on my Robin Hood. I know I really ought to change them, but nobody makes a red line tire in the 650A size. They complement the patina of my stately Nottingham beater so nicely as it is. The age cracking adds grip.

Be well, ride safe. Read more!

Another F-in' F-ie

This post is dedicated to Peter who recently added the following message to his winter bike: "One less fixie." Peter dedicated that message to his student who was embarking on learning to ride her fix gear and learning to ride in traffic on the streets Philadelphia. You go girl!

One of my new old bikes

So of course, with all that is trendy, what the world certainly doesn't need now is another fixed gear bicycle. Don't worry though, I'm not trying to be cool (for me, any attempt to that end would require oh-so much more than any bike could provide), and in fairness, this isn't so much another fixed gear as a replacement for the cherry red Fuji I just passed on to a new home.

So I like my new bike. Assembled on an old Raleigh Technium platform(steel lugs and stays with glued aluminum main tubes), it rides comfortably, fits me well, and is PINK! I even liked it enough to grab it for 40 miles of hills and dales through Colchester, East Haddam, and Salem despite having to pedal like a sillier person than I usually am on the downhills. Sometimes a cobbled together bike like this just works right and one likes it very much.

The Devil's Hopyard is icy, ironic?

So I'm not sure I like my new bike. No, not the Raleigh, I've been busy and also built up an old Shogun 400 that was unearthed from the deep bowls of the basement. It is a pretty basic 80's sport/touring/road frame with lugs holding together at least decent Tange double butted chromoly tubing and adorned with fenders for proper butt-stain-free winter riding. There is nothing wrong with this bike per say, but on my maiden ride with it yesterday I was bedeviled by the details.

The as yet unloved S-hog-un

1) I need to extend the toe clips so my feet are far enough forward to avoid knee pain even with wearing boots for winter warmth.
2) When I extend the toe clips, this will give me even more fender/toe overlap in sharp turns.
3) I fit it with a long stem for the short top tube, my I like short stems and long top tubes. I don't have the skills to fit a longer top tube.
4) It isn't pink.

I'll keep playing with the Shogun, but in the mean time, I supposed the world has an extra fixed gear, and I like it.

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Frog Hollow to Frog City

I recently found myself in Willimantic for the first time, and had an opportunity to check out a couple of places that countless people have recommended to me over the years. Both the Food Co-op and Scott's Cyclery were well worth the trip, and gave me a bit of envy, as I would love to have such establishments in my immediate area. This can be a great time of year to visit a bike shop, as the owners can have a bit more time to spare. In the case of my visit to Scott's Cyclery, that meant plenty of time to find a few parts for an unusual bike frame I have and more time to talk about old bicycles. Scott has a ton of vintage bikes, but I was especially keen on two that were made by The Pope Manufacturing Company in my own neighborhood.

The oldest is a Columbia high wheeler from the 1880's. The solid rubber tires are new reproductions, but I think this boneshaker is otherwise original. I have never ridden a high-wheeler, but would jump at the opportunity to do so. I might be rationalizing here, but it seems that all the inherent dangers of riding such a contraption in modern traffic should be offset by a marked increase in visibility. All the same, maybe the first try should be on a bike path...


This more modern Columbia safety bicycle dates from 1893. It combines such advances as pneumatic tires with throwbacks like the vestigial bike-mounting step from the older-school days. It's mostly rusty, but the nickel-plated rear sprocket looks good as new, thanks to a century of greasy protective coverage. I love the oil lantern. While modern LEDs are the brighter and more efficient way to light your way at night, there is an unmistakable allure to having part of your bike actually on fire while you are riding it. Come to think of it, I'm going to see if I can fit a propane cylinder in a water bottle cage and rig up a pair of gas lanterns (front and rear, for safety) as soon as I finish this post- what could possibly go wrong? That massive sprung seat frame looks like it would require a square yard of animal hide to restore.

One of my dreams is to someday own, or at least ride a locally-manufactured Columbia or Hartford brand bike, especially a shaft-driven Columbia Chainless. Scott had a vintage chainless bike in the house, but it wasn't a Columbia (it might have been a Pierce, but don't quote me on that). It's more than very likely that bicycle-building factory workers once lived in my circa-1900 home, so some sort of historical society should help me obtain one. I'll agree to wear period clothing while riding it if that helps my case.


This early 1950's vintage Phillips was not made in Hartford, but I wish it lived here with me. I love me some British roadster, especially in green. Gorgeous!

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CCBA, Ice Fishin By Bike, Etc.

Just an FYI to the beat reading world and then some bike stuff. I resigned from the board of the CCBA today, but will continue to be a member, do Ice Bike to Work, pitch ideas when they pop up, etc.

Nothing at all to do with CCBA or its workings, I just don't have the time to dedicate to the group to feel like I am doing a really good job and giving it all I have. Too many other things pulling at my attention right now and it is time to step away from Board activity for a while.

Anyway, I have been messing with my fleet and have myself down to three full bikes now (and of course a bunch of parts and a couple half bikes....). It has actually been a pretty fun process thinning the heard and I am happy with the two I have.

In the process I have rigged one out for ice fishing and will ride test the rig this weekend and actually fish off it next weekend one day so long as the weather holds. I will put up some pics of the inaugural voyage for sure! Read more!

The stupid things I do

Last year, I had big plans for the D2R2. Sadly, my big plans were met with failure. I was really hoping to be successful, because then I'd never have to do the 18(6? 7?)0k ride again. I could do the fun 100k ride, because I'd have the long ride under my belt. But, I've got nothing under my belt except weakness, so I've signed up for the long ride again. Ugh!


Conversely, these things can be filed under the awesome things I do category:

Soba with kickass spinach and fried tempeh.

Curry noodles with dumplings and bok choi.

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Signs of Spring

At the risk of being premature, and with snow in the forecast for tonight (hopefully enough for XC skiing), I saw some of the first signs of springs while taking an evening walk down the street. For starters, there was light at 5pm, from the sky, AND, making use of that light was the first non-enthusiast, non-lycra-clad, non-bike-junkie looking bicycle rider I've seen in quite some time. Bravo!
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The raggies

I wanted to read about President Obama's budget this morning in the Hartford Courant, but it was on pages A3 & A9. I hate turning pages, so I skipped that. What was on the front page? Even more important news: The Rip Torn saga brewing in Salisbury! As a cyclist, lover of Salisbury and its mountains and daily reader of Bike Snob NYC, there's a strange kismet to all this.

1. I like to ride my bike and hike up Salisbury's hills.
2. Rip Torn likes to hang out around Salisbury and perpetrate bizarre drunken crimes.
3. Rip Torn is linked to cycling because BSNYC has taken to using the RT mug shot when approving of things.

So, I have concluded that Rip Torn is the world's most famous raggie.

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Ice floes

Ice floes are awesome. They really elicit that feeling of it being the end of your life and you're being cast out to sea (even if that's some kind of racist myth). Since it's been really, really cold, the Connecticut River is full of them right now. Salem and I regarded them with awe on a recent jaunt down along the river.


We also contended with the excitement of pushing our bikes along the ice! Not river ice, but close to it-- not the kind of thing that your mother would encourage you to do.

I wasn't tough enough to go on the beard icicle ride the next day. Read more!

Bikes Outside: Bikes on Ice

This Monday we have a couple of the bikes that stopped off at Jo Jo's for this past Friday morning's Ice Bike to Work breakfast. A total of six people showed up according to the sign-in sheet. Friday morning was bitter and windy, well below the day's predicted high of 22 degrees Fahrenheit, which probably affected turnout. I arrived on the late side, so there were only two other bikes present.


Dave's nice Rockhopper is very well equipped for just about anything. I'm pretty sure most of the cars I have owned have had fewer electronics on board. Legend has it that Specialized switched to oversized tubing in recent years just so they could write their name larger.


I remember digging that left hand bar-end mirror tree on Kevin's Trek at another CCBA event and wondering how far I could go with that concept, clamping more and more bar ends and mirrors to one another until my bike either had aluminum antlers or became the human-powered version of a 60's Mod scooter. It may be for the best that I not admit how much thought I've devoted to the idea of building such a bicycle. Of course the mod bicycle would need a Rocker-style counterpart, which I also may or may not have thought about between one and fifty times.

A minute into my Friday morning ride, I discovered that some water from last Mondays rain-soaked ride had apparently found its way into my cable housings and frozen there. My rear derailleur (interesting note: spell-check only accepts the French spelling) failed to shift at all and my rear brake would stay clamped against the rim after releasing the lever (arguably a safer failure than not working at all). Luckily, the front brake was 100% functional and the sluggish front derailleur could be coaxed into position with a quick toe-tap. I decided to experimentally spray some lock de-icer in the cable housings as a dessicant/cable lube to free things up. I've been riding my internally-geared Robin Hood since then, so I have to take another sub-freezing ride on the cargo bike to see if this actually worked (it functions perfectly well in the heated indoors, of course).

My late morning and afternoon left me feeling thoroughly spent, so I skipped Critical Mass this month. Did anybody go?


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Nil

Colder than this

If one is the loneliest number, what is zero? Well, at 8 o'clock this morning, it was the temperature as I started my six mile pedal on the road to meet my friend Cliff for some thin-snow-cover mountain biking around Case Mountain. We are both fans of low traction conditions that don't involve mud (with its subsequent bike maintenance and trail damage), so some offroad riding was a must, but Cliff had obligations commencing at 11am, meaning early was the order of the day. And of course, early meant cold.

But really, depending on your outlook, cold can be a good thing, or at the very least interesting. I've experienced beard condensation icicles before, but today was truly special. Unfortunately, a camera wasn't on hand early enough to capture the first coating which had individual hairs looking like strands of spaghetti squash; old man winter didn't have a think on me. Still, the nostril stalactites were my best effort yet and survived for your viewing displeasure.

Even my bike picked up its own frosty goodness

So for the "it's too cold to ride" contingent, yes, zero is cold, maybe too cold for most, but if we can manage a good time down so low, maybe you'll want to reconsider the merits of riding at twenty. Just be sure to dress warmly, and keep your feet dry. Thanks mom.

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Attention Motoring Public!

This is a stop sign. It means you are supposed to stop.


I share this because I have had two incidents on two consecutive mornings where a motorist's failure to heed this very simple directive has put me and others in harm's way.

Late yesterday morning, I was in West Hartford when a driver lost control of his Pathfinder, slid rapidly though a stop sign and found a very short path into the passenger side of the borrowed car I was driving. The resulting impact spun the car into the front of an oncoming dump truck for a second, more destructive, impact. The car is probably totaled, but all of the humans involved were remarkably unscathed. Amusingly, this was one instance where I wish I had been wearing a helmet, as it would have cushioned the side-glancing headbutt I gave the driver side window midway through this bout of Car Pong.

I was understandably a bit rattled after this, but I was perfectly comfortable (if a touch more vigilant) when I was back on my bike a few hours later for my afternoon and evening plans. Even yesterday evening's scary black ice was tolerable at a very slow, careful pace.

Almost exactly 24 hours later, I was biking north on Hudson Street downtown when a speeding green Jetta overshot the stop sign as I reached the corner of Linden and Hudson. We both slammed on our brakes. He managed to come to a stop in the crosswalk. I managed to lock up my front wheel on some loose gravel/salt mixture, wash out and lay myself and bike down on the left hand side. I was up in an instant, as nothing gets the adrenaline pumping like realizing, "Oh crap! I'm laying down on a busy street!" Again I was happily uninjured, and continued on my way with only a slightly cocked handlebar to show for the incident. The Jetta driver displayed a look that might have resembled one of concern or surprise before driving off without comment. Hey, thanks for that.

It was only seconds later that I watched a woman careen around the Pulaski Circle in her black Mercedes with a cell phone at her ear before turning off without signaling. I saw that one coming and was completely unsurprised. I marvel at how someone can drop a condo's worth of coin on an automobile and won't pony up a few bucks for a Bluetooth or some other headset. The headsets these days are durable enough to withstand any chronic cranial-rectal insertion conditions that some drivers appear to suffer. I don't think there is anything to be gained by turning into a militant car-hating bike zealot, but some days some drivers make that sort of moderation very difficult. I digress.


Stop signs are usually placed at a corner for a very good reason. In the case of the corner of Hudson and Linden (pictured above) there are two compelling reasons for there to be a stop sign. Not only is Linden a minor side street to the busier Hudson Street, but there is what traffic engineers term a big ol' honkin' blind spot there in the form of a brick building smack-dab on the south side of the corner (traffic engineers are a folksy lot). It's nigh-impossible to see who or what is coming from the left until you reach the stop sign. Whomever it is, it would really be bad for all involved if you were to hit them.

In closing, motoring public, look both where you are going and where you would like to go. Slow down. The few seconds you save by driving like an idiot can cost you and others a lot.
Thanks.

Ride safe.
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