Pilgrimage--My Tale of Canterbury

There are lots of different types of bike riders, two of which are a) those who ride all year, and b) those who have the sense to ride only when it is nice outside. I find myself in the prior group and am even known to revel in riding through a snow storm, sub-zero temps, and the like. All that said, however, I won't deny, when the weather turns nice, it is just that much more enjoyable to get out of bike. Spring really is an awakening, a rebirth.

I was riding high on the (S)hog(un)

So, this morning, I met the gang of Snails, Brendan, Dario, and Peter, who pedaled with me out to Uconn, at which point, coffee beckoned them but the open road beckoned me. Hard for me to pass up such a day with any extra time inside, so I continued on my way for a loop that took me out through Hampton, Scotland, Canterbury, and returning through Lebanon and Hebron, with so many wonderful little back roads I'd never previously had the pleasure of meeting. Twisting two lanes, old cemeteries, high water ponds, and wooded hollows, I found them all. Connecticut may not be a huge state, but there are so many pockets I have yet to explore, and how better than on two wheels.

And I found a HUGE pair of channel locks on the side of Rt14!

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Inaugural boardwalk ride of 2011

As a devoted rider of the boardwalks of the Hockanum River, you can imagine how it pained me to be unable to ride them for nigh on three months. While the water is high, the lowest spot is right by the East Hartford town hall. The rest isn't so bad if you're fendered. Thusly, Salem, Dario and I rode them today and visited Salem's house-to-be on top of some steep hill out by Bolton Notch.

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The cusp

I can tell that Spring is almost here, because I've seen some the sprouts of some flowers pushing up through the mud, but it's not in full enough force that the world smells bad. The woods are still impassable, but so close to passable that I keep getting fooled into venturing in.

Last year's thaw took mere minutes. This year, I'm guessing we won't really able to ride in the woods until the beginning of April.

If you were concerned that pasta was no longer on the move, here's some evidence that it (lasagna) is still moving.

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Ice Queen

On account of running late and being sleep-deprived, as usual, I made a series of wrong choices this morning.
First, the skirt I wore was not one I'd cycled in before. This was a minor nuisance as it cut into my mobility a little. Still, being stubborn and not having time to really change into anything better in less than two minutes, I worked through this. The bag I brought was also not the greatest to hold onto while riding, but again, I was mostly thinking about what would be convenient for the longest amount of time during the day. This purse has lots of zippered pockets including one that's large enough to hold my camera. I was aiming for something that would keep my keys, debit card, and bus ticket secure all day long. The worst choice was simply forgetting the grab my gloves. By the time this was apparently a problem, I did not have time to turn around. I ended up stopping twice on my 8-10 minute ride so that I could attempt to revive my fingers.


See, while it is less expensive for me to travel to New York than to the other side of Hartford, the Megabus waits for no one. The drivers are not vile, obnoxious people who routinely force cyclists into unsafe situations. If I tried to cut off one of them, they'd no doubt stop and check on my safety...but like hell would they let me on the bus after the scheduled departure time has arrived. It's frustrating, sure, but I admire it.

My admiration was a bit fuzzy, though, as I attempted to lock up my bike as quickly as possible. It's hard to do this with fingers that are alternately numb and painful. I must've looked like a dope fumbling with my helmet, unable to get it to release because I could not feel where the release-thingie was. A group of college-aged boys stared at me during all this, and not in the "hey, check out that awesome babe" kind of way. It was more like "Gawd, I hope she doesn't sit anywhere near us." Don't worry boys. I'm old enough to be your mother and that cougar thing is played out.

Meanwhile, my fingers are still not coming back to life and I'm feeling nauseous, which is to say, status quo these days (except for the fingers). The thought occurs that I should just cut my losses and go to the doctor instead of New York City. My lack of health insurance and possible frostbitten brain convinced me instead to go to New York anyway. If nothing else, I'd experience a different type of hospital. I also convinced myself that my grandfather must've gotten frostbite when he'd go hunting. Oh, were you looking for logic in there? My grandfather died a decade ago, he was a boxer and had been shot, and was basically way more hardcore than me. Not the best point for comparison.

So, I'm sitting on the bus while it loads, looking like a maniac probably because I kept pinching and wiggling my fingertips. Some blonde woman who sounded like she'd done a few lines of coke with her breakfast asked to sit next to me. And then, mind you, at not-quite-6:30-in-the-morning, continued to keep talking. She finally got the hint (6:30 is for sleeping on the bus) and moved away. The rest of the trip down was uneventful unless you count the emergency stop in the median and then the person directly in front of me violently and loudly puking into a plastic bag for about an hour and fifteen minutes. I so wish that I was exaggerating.

As the bus made its way through Harlem I began noticing the many remnants of stolen bikes. A u-locked wheel here. A frame there. It did not seem unreasonable that when I returned to Hartford I would find my own bike in some stage of being stripped down. After all, I used only one lock -- a combo one -- and given my delirium/numbness, it was possible that I had not even bothered to do that right.

While I wandered around searching high (Bergdorf Goodman) and low (H&M) for a damn pair of gloves or mittens, I noticed two things. First, even though it was chilly and still winter, I was expecting to see far more cyclists in Manhattan. It's NY, for chrissakes! You all are supposed to be tough as spit and mean as nails. Sure, by Hartford standards, there were multitudes of cyclists...in Central Park. But I did not come close to being run over or even grazed by a cyclist once, and trust, after the craptastic way my day began, if it could've happened, it would've. And two, I ended up buying the most bootleg (and overpriced for what they are) pair of glove-mittens from a street vendor because even though it's still cold enough to wear gloves, it's not cold enough to continue selling them in most stores, even in the ones that find it reasonable to charge $650 for a pair of ballet flats.


After a long bit of being creepy and taking pictures of strangers riding bikes or making wardrobe adjustments, I decided to move on out of Central Park, even if it did provide the most diverse group of people for that aforementioned people-watching. Unlike my excursion last year around this time, I was not as envious of those with wheels. Maybe my still-frozen fingertips had something to do with this, or maybe I was just wearing more comfortable footwear that did not make me instantly long to sit down. Since I don't have a folding bike, I might not get to know the joy of riding through Central Park. It seems silly to rent a bike, particularly after viewing what was available -- rides sized really wrong in some cases.

What the rental bikes have that my own Starry Bike does not is a basket. In most cases, that's fine. I've got panniers, but again, this morning was not the time to search for my other lock and figure out how to secure the pannier to the bike all day long. This would have helped immensely for my ride home, which involved not just the awkward purse, but a bag full of stuff and things acquired during the day. The awkwardness was the least of my problems when I got back to Hartford. The bike was still there and it appears that everything that should be on it is. The trouble was that after being on a bus for three hours and in various states of consciousness, I, of course, ran into a friend who rides surprisingly fast as hell. Since he mocks the law by not using lights at night, I felt obligated to keep up and light the way. My fingers were much warmer on the ride home, thanks to the gloves (that with my luck are probably infested with bed bugs).

Lessons Learned Today

• wear gloves
  
• don't try out different fashion choices before sunrise
  
• if someone is clutching a plastic bag on the bus, do not sit near her
  
• bring that ugly nylon backpack thing for trips that may involve shopping. It'll make the lugging of stuff home later easier, and it never needs to come out of the purse until you're back on the bus anyway.
  
• do not allow solo travelers to strike up conversation with you. They are all crazy and will tell you things about their families you do not need to know. Talk to the homeless guys instead.
  
• you're not supposed to grab the bread rolls in fancy restaurants. You point, and then the waiter tongs them for you. The $12 glass of wine should tip you off to this type of protocol.
  
• locate locks, ugly helmet that you won't cry about if it gets stolen, and lights at NOT quarter to six in the morning

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Escort Service

The Tim Johnson ride on Washington for Bikes Belong is underway. As the word got out and the first of many related emails began to cram my inbox, there was a request for "Fighter escorts" i.e. a local crew to meet up with the group ride and usher them in and out of Hartford with some local navigating savvy. Salem, Brendan, Gerry and I stepped up for the Friday afternoon ride-in. I wisely forewent my usual Yuba mount-- I was already likely to get dropped on every climb as it was, no sense in handicapping myself further. I opted instead for my Breezer Venturi road bike, a late autumn acquisition that I was eager to ride after waiting out the road salt season.

Brendan, Gerry and I met up downtown after lunchtime and set off. We made our rendezvous with Salem in front of the Rockville Public Library in good time. The sunny weather and high 30s temps made for nice riding but chilly waiting, especially on the stone steps. We warmed and amused ourselves with some freestyle banister sliding until the Johnson expedition arrived in a burst of color and high-end componentry.

People were in pretty good spirits for that point in the day, with introductions and banter continuing as we headed west. The pace was just brisk enough. I determined that the perfect time for me to join a group ride was after the rest of the group had already ridden 100+ miles or so. We swept through semi-rural South Windsor as the shadows grew long and saw the group to the Sheraton on the East Hartford side of the Founders Bridge.

Friday evening's reception saw the Red Rock full of riders and well-wishers. Speeches were made, officials represented, swag tossed, food eaten and beer imbibed. I bailed around 10 or so, having volunteered to escort the ride out of Hartford early Saturday morning. Naturally, I had a terrible night's sleep (Blasting soca at 3 AM?! Really?! Thanks, neighbors!)

Saturday morning, Gerry and I met up in the hotel lot at 6:45 and went in. There was a bit of foot-dragging as everyone got ready and did some last-minute noshing. The neutral support vehicle (which was actually in "park" at the time) provided me with a toe strap to mend and secure my 1970's-era saddlebag, which had broken free and drooped onto my rear wheel as I rolled into the parking lot. Hooray, Volvo full of bike parts!

I planned on doing one of two things for Saturday's ride. Plan A: ride with the group to the planned Fairfield stop, where I had an opportunity to catch a ride back to Hartford, or Plan B: ride along for 20 miles or so and turn back toward Hartford when Gerry did. I figured I would make the call at the 20 mile mark based on how my still-healing recently-sprained thumb was feeling and how well I was keeping up with the pack.

Somewhere southwest of downtown New Britain, I realized I had but a very faint idea of where we were. On consultation, it seemed Gerry was in the same boat. I knew that we were bound to cross Route 10 at some point, so I proposed it as a known (if unlovely) route back home. My personal assessment around the 15 mile mark indicated a moderately throbbing right hand and increasing gaps between me and the rest of the riders on the uphill bits. We eventually hit Route 10 at a red light in the Southington area and had our good-byes, well-wishes and handshakes in time for the green. We headed north, and the group continued to press on southeasterly toward their next stop in Bethel. I was a little bummed about bailing out, but my hand gently reassured me that I had made the right decision. I enjoyed the time I spent riding along with everyone and I wish them all the best for the cause and for the rest of the ride.
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Bring It!

First off , cuz I gots a p-u-s-s-y you have to disregard all this. It clearly means that I am having a meltdown, and not that I'm a bad boy. Even if I got a pair of tits to prove it, ain't enough-- they gotta be on someone else. There's loads of precedent for this. Lindsay Lohan: meltdown. Britney Spears: meltdown. Mariah Carey: meltdown. Men don't break down. They just be playaz. Don't hate on that.

So, if you wanna ride like Charlie, if you wanna win like Charlie, you gotta have tiger blood. If you weren't born with that, ain't a thing. Substitute vodka on an empty stomach. Stop the transfusion after your face is numb.

Next what you want to do is equip your bike with lights. The idea of this is to get everyone to see who is coming at them. When they see that someone so great and winning is hurtling in their direction, they have no choice but to step aside and kneel out of respect. See the light on the bike in the picture? Ain't no way people can't see that. So, when I hear that my buddy got smacked by a van, and knowing that he shines brighter with truth than this light, all I can think is the opposition be hurling fastballs that we are going to hafta hit right out of the park.

That's right. Bicycle thug gang action. You gotta strap on the biggest fenders you got, exercise that middle finger, and get prepared mentally to cut off transit buses, GTL frat boys, and nervous suburbanites who accidentally stayed inside of city limits past sunset. You gotta be willing to ride through puddles in Bushnell Park that soak through your jeans up to your knees even with those fenders. Riding and winning like Charlie means rolling on ahead no matter how the opposition is creating barriers.

Defeat is not an option, and that's what they are trying to do when they ram into you or come inches away. They're trying to get you to throw up your hands and cry surrender. They trying to put you back behind the wheel or next to the car at the gas pump at six in the morning so that they have company, so that they can look around and still say "Hey, everyone is doing this. There's nothing wrong with my lifestyle." They want proof that the American lifestyle of overindulgence exists and that everyone is happily floating along with it. And they'll keep it up and keep it up until the law enforcement agencies or the vigilantes get to them first.

After you've slapped on some fenders, lights, and guzzled down some vodka, what you need to do is make sure your bike is a total piece of shit. This helps, especially if you are sentimental. You need to be ready to pick up your bicycle and launch it at the opposition. Let's face it. We need something stronger than the tiptoeing around, begging for scraps type of advocacy we've been getting. We need the craziest most balls-out, tits-out kind of show that we can put on because they answering to nothing else.

Asshole drivers-- consider yourselves on notice.


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Late season cyclocross

So, the Tim Johnson thing roles into town tomorrow. If you're interested in riding with Tim, you can start in Boston tomorrow at 8am. Or, if you want to stay in the Hartford area, you can head out to meet him tomorrow.

We're leaving from the back of City Hall (550 Main Street, Hartford) at 1:00pm and meeting Tim, et al in Rockville around 3:00pm and then riding him into Hartford. It should be fun.

There's a reception for everybody at Kenny's Red Rock (369 Capitol Ave) at 7:00pm.

Here are more details:

You are Invited

to the Hartford “Hometown of Bicycles” Welcome of

Tim Johnson’s Ride on Washington

Nine States; Six Capitals; Five Days; One Cause

For more information, contact Bike Walk Connecticut at: 860-904-2420

Six-time national champion and cyclo-cross superstar Tim Johnson has thrown his leg over his bike for some serious training this winter. But Massachusetts native Johnson is not riding to improve his cycling or claim another medal; Tim is riding this winter to improve everyone else’s cycling.

On a mission to encourage other cycling athletes to become cycling advocates, Tim and friends are setting off from Boston on March 4, 2011 with 530 miles separating them from their Washington D.C. destination, with arrival scheduled to coincide with the start of the annual National Bike Summit commencing March 8, 2011.

“We want to engage governors, mayors, bloggers, reporters, schools, and most of all other cyclists along the way,” said Johnson.

And Bike Walk Connecticut wants to engage you in encouraging Tim and crew to “ride on” and complete their mission by extending them a uniquely special welcome to Hartford, the renowned birthplace of the American Bicycle Industry. How perfect that we can do so through cooperation with Red Rock Tavern, located in the hub of the former Colonel Albert A. Pope Columbia Bicycle manufacture empire!

A brief media program shall commence at 7:30, including opportunity for welcoming remarks from invited guests. The bar is cash and the food is free!

Tim’s Ride is being presented by Bikes Belong. Bikes Belong is sponsored by the U.S. bicycle industry, including nearly 400 bicycle supplier and retail members committed to increasing bicycling in communities throughout the country. Based in Boulder, Colorado, Bikes Belong has 21 professional staff, 20 volunteer directors, and a $2.5 million annual operating budget.

Bike Walk Connecticut is a statewide membership based organization committed to ensuring that bicycling and walking are attractive, safe, and reliable modes of everyday transportation in Connecticut. We have one professional staff, 15 volunteer directors, and when we have a $2.5 million annual operating budget we will welcome that ride, too!

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Still winter

But in a good way!

After work, I decided to see if I could go ride on the East Hartford boardwalk. I couldn't, too much snow. I meandered around for awhile and found a vase on the sidewalk by the highway behind the Morgan Street garage. Then, I rode down to Wethersfield to find that the snow was all gone from the Cove, but the ice was still thick. So, I rode out on it.

I highly recommend this.




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The BMX commute

I have a BMX bike. It's a Specialized Fuse 2. It's not the best bike, but it had a low buy it now price on eBay and free shipping. I don't really know anything about BMX. I didn't grow up riding it like a lot of people and I'm kind of scared to do cool tricks. It came with no brakes, so I was terrified to ride it anywhere. I bought a u-brake for it, so it stops just slightly better than it did with the soles of my shoes.


For some reason, I decided that I wanted to ride my BMX bike to work today. Dario does it all the time and it seemed to work out well for him, but he work much closer to work. 2 1/2 miles isn't exactly an epic commute, but is kind of a long way to go when you can't really pedal and sit at the same time.


While not expeditious, it's great. I got to work in pretty much the same time, but on the way home I spent some time riding around Constitution Plaza, the parking lots of State buildings and other back alleys, hoping off little ledges and stuff. I'm not very good at it, but I'm good enough to have fun (sort of like my skateboarding skill). I think because I'm low to the ground and can't go very fast, poking around feels more right.

This would certainly make the boringest BMX video ever. Stay tuned! Read more!

Catalogue!!

Iconoclasm. We've all had it.

Announcing the next CATALOGUE: Saturday, February 26, Kevjn Kelly, Iconoclasm

56 Arbor Street

Hartford, CT 06106

Suite # 308

8pm

This event is a video installation based on the painting The Swing and, though video is finite, Kevjn's wraps around itself and makes me think of a spirograph, which makes finite images too, however infinite and true the splatters of color, information, interpretations, definitions, explanations, and patterns seem to be. It's a relief that we can enter Kevjn's installation from any perspective (though, to be clear, there's only one door into the space. It's a regular door). Kevjn is an experimental director and inquisitive artist - come see what he's doing, interpret what he's doing. There will also be drinks in the space, to drink, and things to read and people to meet. This is a CATALOGUE event - we are very very ready to get 2011 underway.

CATALOGUE is a venue for events, a network for artists, and a workshop for ideas. It is a collaboration between artist, curator, community, and space. It is created and maintained by Joe Saphire and Nick Rice.

Contact us for directions or questions: CATA.info.LOGUE@gmail.com, and please pass this announcement along to those we might have missed.

Joe

Nick.

It's a been a few months and I miss my old friend Catalogue. Also, Catalogue is rated one of the 25 best things to do in Hartford. Read more!

A groomed world

Close followers of snow will note that there's about 12-18" of packed snow. With the addition of last night's much need 2", the world has become like those fancy groomed places for cross country skiing. I went off the reservoir for a few hours of skiing and it was awesome. Actually, let me qualify that: off the tails it was awesome. The postholed, tracked trails were kind of miserable because they hardened into super bumps.

Anyway, I went skiing today and had a lot of fun. Happy James Garfield Day!

Nature's fury again!

Take a close look at my tracks in this picture.

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Bikes outside: the realm of possibility

I've never written a bike outside, so I'll probably break a rule or two.

Pictured here is Dario's Wicked Fat Chance. He got it a long time ago and I didn't know him then. Since he got it, it has shed derailers and is a single, dingle or fixed gear. Next to this snow bank, it's fixed and has fenders. The brakes are original and it has a weird bottom bracket with press-in bearings. If ridden through the Connecticut River, it starts creaking. It's also set up with one of cool fixed/free ENO eccentric hubs (thus all the aforementioned options). Like my Colnago it has a hole in the stem instead of a cable hanger. Some people think that's cool.

It was ridden in the Reservoir, early in the Reservoir's history of people riding in it. I've seen it carried up and down Constitution Plaza, bounce through both of the meadows and lumber through tracts of snowy powerlines. It's a nice bike and unlike other Fat Chances of the internet, it's not a bike shrine.


In other news I went for my longest ride of the year so far. You're perfectly allowed to make fun of me, but it's not exactly been easy to get out there. This, however, was a very pleasant ride with Salem & Peter to points east and south.

New bike attire!

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Day time snow

As a reprise to Wednesday's snow escapades, we met up with another famous Glastonbury mountain biker, Al, headed to the part of the Meshomasic on the eastern part of rt. 2 and its gas line. It was warmer and the sun was shining, we busted through the snow more. But, there were still awesome moments of riding on mogul-type stuff. It makes mountain biking a lot more like skateboarding or BMX or maybe surfing. Instead of riding for an hour without putting a foot down or pausing, it's ride for two minutes, punch through the snow, pull your bike out and try to go some more. Salem had a particular intense crash and broke his seatpost. The next two days don't look great for this type of riding because it's supposed to be warm. Read more!

Incredulity

It was the discussion of banana portaging that grabbed my attention while reading Bike Snob NYC yesterday, but the part of his post that had real staying power was something I had basically buried in my brain as I read it. At night, I went to some semi-glitzy, social networking event, and yeah, I rode my bicycle there. I hadn't ridden in a few months and was tired of that, plus, this event always creates a traffic jam and I have has much patience for sitting in traffic as I do for incompetence in the workplace.

Before even leaving the house, I was hearing how basically I was crazy for riding my bicycle when it was this cold outside. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. I've ridden in more pleasant weather, but I have been regularly walking to work, and the cold has bothered me far less than the impending doom promised by uncleared sidewalks. There were days when I would have worried less about such things, but I have a mortgage and no health insurance; I am constantly calculating how much a slip would cost me should I have to go to the emergency room for a broken bone. It's exhausting to feel so much contempt for fellow earthlings who are both too lazy and immature to take care of their shit.

Anyway, what I learned on the route there was that Starry Bike, for the most part, can deal just fine with ice. While I was a bit out of shape and winded, the trip didn't take very long -- much less than it would've if I walked and less than if I drove -- and I never got too cold. I was able to lock up at a bike rack (thanks to Tony for the tip), use a locker inside where to stash helmets and unsexy accessories, and enjoy a child-free event. It's not that I don't like some children. It's just that there is a certain pleasure to be had in cussing up a storm in a space that is usually lousy with youths.

When they turned off the lights and kicked us all out to the curb, it took us awhile to get our bikes unlocked. People were streaming by and some drunk (I'm hoping drunk, because otherwise he is just an ass) guy is all like "Oh my God! She's gonna ride a bike." Now, my response was a passive aggressive comment to Interstatement about how people stupidly don't understand the way sound actually travels, and people who are being talked about can hear the conversation too. In younger days, I would've just gotten up in his face for that spewing of dumb.

That's when it clicked. I remembered a key part from the Bike Snob NYC post:

One of my favorite aspects of any bicycling-themed news report is always the reporter's total incredulity that someone actually rides a bicycle. Note her inflection when she says the following at 44 seconds:

His bikes have more miles than his car!

I love how she says it as though that's the epitome of insanity, in exactly the same way she'd say something like: "He keeps an incredibly rare Fahaka puffer fish in his toilet!"

The intonation of the comment was absolute incredulity. That's the perfect word. If I said I was going to birth eight babies at once without a partner, he may have been less amazed. Out-of-control breeding is more normalized than using self-powered transportation.

This is not the first time I encountered this incredulity.

Months ago, I wrote about (but never published) an account of an unfortunate exchange between some Audi-driving moron and myself. I found myself at an event that had jumped the shark so long ago that simply calling it "tired" will suffice for description. I was jubilant to get the hell out of there but had to fumble with two locks first.

Meanwhile, this uncreative, blonde-haired pustule was standing nearby, trying to get my attention. Imagine his lines slurred:
Audi: Hey Dorothy! Dorothy!
Me: *ignores*

I had gotten the locks off, attached the back light, and had to rig up the headlight. Since there is no proper way to attach the light on the Jenny, this was taking awhile. At some point, I made the mistake of turning around and making eye contact.

Audi: Excuse me?
Me: Yes? [read that with rudeness and annoyance in tone]
Audi: Let me just tell you two things.
Me: *rolls eyes* What?
Audi: That is an amazing dress. Are you going to put that basket on the bike?

It should be mentioned that the basket had already been affixed to the bicycle. Three beers fewer and he might have noticed this.

Audi: Where did you get your basket?
Me: My BOYFRIEND gave it for me, so I don't know where HE got it.

I hate having to do that, but my memories of being a pugnacious youth taunt me and I don't want to wind up with a public defender for kicking some deserving brat in the shins.

At this point another woman walks by to retrieve her bike. He begins to annoy her.

Audi: Hey, how come you don't wear heels and a dress like her?

The woman mumbles something back and quickly maneuvers her bike out of there. The jerkwad turns back to me.

Audi: How're you gonna get home? You're gonna have a tough time riding home in the dress and heels? How're you gonna ride side saddle?

Me: I fucking got here didn't I? I rode here wearing the same thing I'm leaving in.

Still futzing with the light, I gave up and rolled it somewhere away from Audi Guy so that I could attach the light in peace.

This incredulity, as described here, can be rude, but sometimes it's more innocent. Whatever the case, I don't get it. How do these people control themselves when they see something truly amazing? Do they awegasm at the sight of a bear riding a tricycle or while watching a child get born? Do their brains explode on spot at the sight of a Tiffany's diamond display case? I can't even imagine what it must be like to be so simple-minded. Read more!

The most unique of snow

The snow is in a unique state right now. It's deep, but it has a really strong crust. It's so strong that you can ride on top of it, despite being two feet deep. It's also crusty and not icy, so there's traction. For these reasons, Salem and I decided to ride the powerlines down to Portland. It was pretty awesome, like a pump track going on for miles. Although, unlike a pump track, the ground occasionally would eat one of your wheels. If that wheel was the front, an endo would ensue (for me). None the less, it was pretty awesome. Wide tires at low psi are recommended. Salem wore a full-face helmet, because he was worried about hurting his face. He also endoed way less, but he's also way better at riding a bike than me.

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Bikes belong

Normally, riding with Tim Johnson is tough. He's really good at cyclocross and we're not. Or at least, I'm not. However, at the beginning of March, you have the opportunity to go for a ride with him. As part of this:

Tim Johnson’s

Ride On Washington

Nine States; Six Capitals; Five Days; One Cause

A bike ride to support more bike rides.

Overview

This winter, six-time national champion and cyclo-cross superstar Tim Johnson will throw his leg over his bike for a hard week of training. But he’s not riding to improve his cycling; he’s riding to improve your cycling.

Tim Johnson will ride to raise funds and awareness for the Bikes Belong Foundation as he pedals almost 500 miles from Boston to Washington DC, the site of the National Bike Summit, in five days.

Starting Friday, March 4, Tim will be joined by long time cycling journalist, advocate, promoter and announcer Richard Fries, and a handful of other leaders of American bike culture. Leaving from Boston, they will ride every day, hitting Providence, Hartford, New York City, Trenton, Philadelphia, Wilmington, and Baltimore, until they reach Washington DC on Tuesday, March 8, for the start of the National Bike Summit.

“We want to engage governors, mayors, bloggers, reporters, schools, and most of all other cyclists along the way,” said Johnson, who is already building support from the bike industry for this mission.

Tim Johnson hopes to see this event raise funds and awareness for Bikes Belong and the National Bike Summit. Your support will be critical to make that happen.

Ride With Us

You can ride with us for five minutes, five miles, or all five days. When you register, we will create a personal fundraising page for you on www.PledgeReg.com, where you can raise money to benefit Bikes Belong. We will post the exact routes as we get closer to the ride. Please note that although we will have neutral support along the way to help all riders, individuals looking to join will be required to take care of their own logistics.

So, Georgette at BikeWalk CT contacted Ben, Interstatement, me and so others to help shepherd Tim though Hartford. Salem's advice was to take Rt. 14 into CT from Providence, end up in Willimantic and we'd meet Tim in Bolton center. Something along these lines. The route from Bolton is contingent about snow cover. If you're interested in joining us for for about a 35 mile ride on March 4, send me an email to coordinate. We're going to ride him out the next day towards Bethel (Cannondale).

Also, the evening of the 4th, there will be a reception for this. You should come, but I don't have all the details yet other than it'll the evening of 4th.

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Drippy bike

While my fenders aren't the best, they fend pretty well. When it's above freezing and melting outside, I stay pretty clean. However, the gross stuff gets impacted up in the fenders. When I bring my bike inside and park it next my cubicle, it drips. Is there a cure for this? I used to park it in a more out of the way spot, so the drips didn't bother anyone, but now it's right out in the open. Read more!

The sporting life

Dreary!

If you're a sporting enthusiast, times are difficult. The snow is sharp, slippery and painful and covering basketball courts, singly tracks, baseball diamonds, shuffle puck stadiums, xc country skiing routes and the roads are narrow and angry. Despite these difficulties and the 32 degree rainy weather, I met Salem for a ride today. He believed that trains plowed and compacted the snow, so we should ride on train tracks. This may sound dangerous and stupid, because it is. But, trains are loud and have those whistles. We didn't die and his theory was mostly correct. We rode from near Governors Blvd in East Hartford to the South Windsor line and rarely punched through. It was pretty cool. Then we milled around for a bit and road some East Hartford sidewalk singletrack along Forbes road up to the Glastonbury line. We parted ways and I went home over the Charter Oak Bridge; thinking that it'd be impassable, but someone plowed it!

Snowblowing the roof on to another part of the roof

Plowed bridge

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The Treacherous Pursuit of Safety

There was a lot of snow on my roof, with 3-4 foot drifts on the southern side. With the recent rash of buildings collapsing in Connecticut, I was getting nervous. My first attempt to shovel it on Monday afternoon was kind of terrifying, as the snow on the tarps currently covering some of the roof made me slip a couple of times. I cleared off the deepest drifts for a few hours and gingerly climbed back down the 40 foot ladder, determined to acquire some sort of safety harness before returning. Everything closed early on Tuesday, so first thing Wednesday morning I headed for a welding supply place on Murphy Road that carries safety gear. I chose the most direct route that featured major streets, as many side streets had not been plowed yet. Of the streets I rode, Park Street was the best and Wethersfield Ave was the worst. I had a pretty good wipeout on the latter street which left me with a sore wrist. Airport Road wasn't fun, either, come to think of it. It was a pretty sketchy ride that I didn't particularly enjoy.

I arrived at the store glazed with ice and soaked with sweat. They were already preparing to close early, and I was happy to get in under the wire. I bought an OSHA-approved harness and lanyard in a bucket. It was called "Compliance in a Can" which is my favorite product name since "Pope Soap on a Rope".

Having no desire whatsoever to retrace the route I had taken to get to the store, I followed Murphy Road to Reserve, past the regional market and Coltsville. The snow conditions were no better than the busy roads, but the minimal traffic made the return ride much better. I began to actually enjoy myself. The few cars and trucks I saw gave me a wide berth, and the only time I heard honking was a guy in an MDC truck giving me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. I found myself calmed and entertained by the sight and sound of slush churning around the tires and oozing out the leading edge of the front fender. It sounded like a Slurpee machine. Mmmm, salty.

The Mundo has been handling better than I could have ever reasonably expected in the snow. The 26x2.0 Schwalbe Marathons I recently installed are fat and smooth, which should make them utterly useless in the snow, but they worked; not well, mind you, but they worked. The rear wheel had surprisingly good traction as long as I kept my weight on the saddle. The front wheel was prone to handlebar-jerking deflection and washouts in the deeper, more irregular deposits of snow, but could be easily corrected in all but one instance. The front brake grew stiffer and a bit grabby, but never failed to work.

I still dream of building the ultimate winter city bike someday, but I'm satisfied that the current configuration of the Yuba can serve as my four season workhorse. There are a few minor tweaks I'll make, of course. I do want to rotate the front fender rearward, for instance, as a substantial amount of slush was flung at my feet and the bottom bracket shell. Minor details aside, it got me where I needed to go and it got me home again. Most importantly in this case, it helped me safely clear a lot of heavy snow off of my house which took a load off my roof and my mind. Read more!