Friday Follies ~~ Self Reliance

My father once said,  “Having four-wheel drive means you have the ability to get into trouble you can’t fix, farther away from help.”

I was young and full of myself, so I had to prove the truth of this statement.  I did.  It wasn’t fun.

I’ve since come to realize that Dad’s pronouncement on four wheel drive vehicles was an expression of a wider principle.  I’ll sum it up a bit later.

When I back came to mountain biking, in the 1980s, it had developed a great deal.  Gone were the makeshifts of my childhood and youth.  In their place where the purpose built, refined vehicles, bicycles specifically designed and built for off-road use.  I quickly learned that I had a lot to earn.  But the process was a lot of fun.  I got better, and with improvement in skill and knowledge, I got bolder.  I ventured farther and farther afield.  I would go out with almost anyone, or no one.  I was willing to try almost anything.

Came the day when I was well into the truly deep woods and mountains of the southern Appalachians.  I was alone, and having a great time.  I was exploring a trail I hadn’t been on before.  There was little evidence of visitation by the local off road riders.  The deeper and higher I went, the less sign I saw of recent riders.

The day was spectacular.  It was mid-Fall, and breathtaking in color, bright in sun, with just a hint of cool to the air.  I quickly discovered that the instructions I’d been given were a bit optimistic.  Every landmark and turn was about twice as far apart as my directions indicated.  Not a problem.  I adjusted for it.  But, I was a good bit more than the promised seven miles when I crested the gap pass.  In fact I was more like 15 miles into the trip.  The day was growing late.  My directions promised that I would be out of the woods in another five miles.  (It would turn out to be over ten.)  I was having a great time, as the sun sank toward the western horizon.  I was going down now, and it was fun!

I missed a turn, hidden under the deep accumulation of fallen leaves, and went a good mile off course before I realized it.  The double back was okay.  But by that time the late afternoon was beginning to cool a bit.  Then I missed the main trail, and went even farther off course, necessitating yet another double back.  Time to get this thing done.

I was bucketing down a good steep slope when things happened.  The surface was sketchy on the turn.  The rear wheel washed. I over-corrected, and was entering the next turn too wide.  I hit the brakes, and the bike slid.  I lost it the trail and was bounce-whopping through the woods, trying desperately to regain some semblance of control.  There was a sudden, and unseen drop off.  I was in the air, completely unready for it, and without any choice of a landing site.  That landing was against a rather large, and completely unyielding rock.  The bike stopped and I went flying.

After I checked myself over for injuries, and found nothing worse than some scrapes and bumps, I crawled back up to the bike.  The front wheel was fairly well bent out of shape.  It wouldn’t pass the brakes.  I went to work.  Some field-expedient repairs later, I managed to get the wheel straight enough to roll, but I had to completely disable the brake to let it clear.  (Note to self:  Keep speed down.)  I recovered the trail, and managed about another half mile or so before the rear tire went flat.  Must have picked up a thorn during the off-trail excursion.

No problem.  I had a spare tube and a pump.  I set to work.

Problem!  The pump didn’t seem to want to work.  {Seems I’d never used it before.}  I sat down and went to work on the pump.  I managed to get the thing apart.  I found the problem, a pinched O-ring, and fixed it as best I could.  It wasn’t easy, but I did manage to get some air into the tire.  Not a lot, but enough to ride on…  Sort of.

The second flat, on the front tire, caught me off guard.  I didn’t have another spare.  I didn’t have a patch kit.

I tried a couple of makeshift repairs.  None held.  (I’d read about, and heard about these techniques, but had never experienced them.)  So…  Time to start walking.

At the time of this incident, I had yet to acquire my first cell phone.  I doubt that there is coverage in that area today.  It’s that remote.

As I walked, I cooled.  The sun was touching the mountains to the west of me.  The temp was dropping.  I was hungry, and low on water.  (I’d already put my jacket back on.)  I was stiffening up from the scrapes and bumps.  Bike shoes are not good for hiking.  It was getting dusky.

I lost the light while I was working my way across the lower slopes of the mountain.  I was pretty sure there was a road below me.  Once I found it, a left turn and a “two mile” hike would get me back to my truck.  It was completely dark.  I had to mostly feel my way down.  (In retrospect, there are about a dozen ways that moving like that could have cost me a serious injury.)  I had little means of making a camp, even an improvised one.  I had no means of making a fire.  I was getting cold!

After an eternity, I found the road.  By tripping over it and falling flat.  That was when I made one of the wiser decisions of the day.  I pushed the bike back up into the woods, and then started hiking along the road without it.  Eventually, I found my way back to my truck.  From there on, the story got a bit better.

1)  If you are going to be an inconvenient, or dangerous separation from help, be certain that you have the means at your hand to get back.

2)  If you don’t know how to use it, and to fix it when it breaks, don’t depend on it.

3)  Test and practice all means of emergency repair.  (The emergency is not the time to learn to operate it, or puzzle out the procedures.)

4)  Always carry a "walk out" light, and spare batteries.

5)  Don’t “ride crazy” when you are alone.

Thursday Thoughts: Going Bye Bye!

As you read this, I am preparing to leave.  Going  “on the road.” 

I’ve taken a lot of road trips.  A fair number of them have been involved with carrying a bike somewhere else to ride it.  While that is not the stated, or prime purpose of this particular trip, it is something I am doing.  I’m traveling, and I have a bike with me.  The bike will be ridden…  extensively.  But there will be other “fun and games” activities.

One of the more interesting aspects of traveling at this time of year is packing.  One never knows just what to pack for.  Mid-Fall on the Eastern Seaboard, the weather is being run by the Practical Joke Department.  In other words, “Go ahead and put your request in, but be prepared for what you get.”  It may be warm or cold, sunny or raining, or any combination of all of the above.  So prudence dictates packing for anything.  To make matters a bit worse, the traveling cyclist must pack for two!  Yup, I said two.  It’s as if we were two people.  One of us is the athlete, and needs the specific gear to deal with all conditions.  The other is the touring civilian, and needs “street clothing” appropriate to the full range of seasonal contortions.

Packing for the Bike:  Yes, it’s necessary to pack for your ride too.  Of course one prepares the bike for the trip.  Tune it up, dial it in, get everything lubricated.  But then we have to pause and think, am I carrying the necessary and appropriate tools and spares.  Sure, the traveling cyclist can rely on local bike shops to fill in the gaps.  They will have chain lube, and the most common spares, such as tubes, cables, chains, computers, bar-tape, etc. 

But I see this in the shop all the time.  Someone comes in.  They are on a vacation in our fair part of the world.  Something broke.  I want to get them fixed and happy.  If it’s possible, I will.  But…!  I am not going to have the special left-handed jim-jam that was only featured the seven bikes that Rufus Doofus hand built in March of 1992.  The lesson?  If it’s fairly unique, and it can stop you, you must stock it.  Go ahead and pack it.

It might just be a good idea to know how to replace/install it too.  Bike shop mechanics are an amazingly creative, inventive, and knowledgeable breed.  But there are limits.  Consider two cases  1)  NASA just invented it, and the documentation hasn’t even been written yet.  2)  It’s the proprietary push-rod shifter from your 1908 Dursley-Pedderson.  Either of those cases(or anything remotely resembling them) just might be outside the experience and range of a local shop in East-Nowhere-At-All.

Fly or Drive?

 Needless to say, packing for all of these eventualities requires space and lifting capacity.  Trying to do so when one plans to take airlines to the destination is close to the definition of insanity.  So the decision has to be made.  If one is flying, does one really want to attempt to pack the one-of-a-kind WonderBike?  Probably not.  If flying, I try to pack dual purpose clothing, and plan to rent, or borrow a suitable bike at the destination.

I long ago worked out an equation for determining whether to fly or drive.  Two factors are significant:  1)  Distance to destination.  2)  Duration of stay.  For my upcoming trip, the fly/drive equation yielded a definite drive as an answer.  So I’ve made my checklists.  I’ve selected the appropriate equipment.  I have my heavy lifter all loaded up.  I’m going out on the road!

See you soon.

A Ride Report: Mid-Fall (Samhain) Celebration Night Ride

Sorry for the delayed posting here.  It was a bit late when I got home from the ride.

The Mid-Fall Celebration Night Ride is rapidly becoming one of my favorites.  I love the route and the season.  Having company just makes it that much better. 

Speaking of company…  It was a smaller group than last year.  (More on that in a moment.)  Present at start (and at finish!) were Judy, Chris, Dan, Scott, and your humble correspondent.  So, just five of us, but sound riders all.

I attribute the small turnout to two factors.  The first of these is the dirt road section of this ride.  Last year that came as a surprise to all riders.  This year it was a known given.  I know a lot of folks are leery of dirt road riding.  The fears are multiple.  They are afraid of falling down.  They are afraid of damaging their bikes.  They, and the bike, might get dirty.

Honest, a road bike can be ridden on a dirt road.  Yes it might get a bit dusty, or pick up a touch of mud.  These things can be taken care of with a few minutes of post ride cleanup.  As for the fear of falling, just ride a bit slower.  On this ride, you will not be left behind.  (When necessary, we re-group regularly.)

So, on to the report:

It was fully dark, with a dim red glow on the western horizon as we five pushed off.  We started promptly at 7:30 P.M.  We could all feel the temperature dropping as we waited the start.  I noted that all present had dressed well for the evening, but everyone was anxious to get moving and make some exercise heat.

That said, we rolled out of Hollonville, and set a brisk pace to get warmed up to the evening air.  The ride from Hollonville to Concord was a cruise, with clear sky around us, and the lingering dim glow of the last sunset to our right.

After turning through Concord, we were truly in it.  A quick jaunt on GA-18 took us to the turn for Flat Creek Rd.  This is supposed to be a mostly descending road, down to the bridge over the Flint River.  It sure seemed to me that there was a lot of climbing on that descent.  By that time it was fully and completely dark.

There has, lately, been some development along that stretch of road, and we encountered a small amount of late automotive traffic.  (We were passed by about five cars.)

The bridge over the Flat Shoals was a bit of a disappointment.  With no moon in the sky, and clear sky above, it was totally pitch dark.  So the bridge was a stretch of concrete, surrounded by blackness.  There was no moonlight on the water, and nothing to indicate what we were passing over.

Shortly after crossing the Flint River, we turned off of Flat Shoals, and onto Covered Bridge Rd.  This is the unpaved section of the ride.  The road surface was (mostly) smooth, with little gravel.  Yes there were some “washboard” sections, but they were not long or hard to traverse.  There were a couple of gravel stretches too, but not deep gravel, and the individual stones were of a size that was easily negotiated by road tires.

{NOTE:  Last year I rode my tourist, with its wider, high volume tires.  This year I chose a lighter, more conventional road bike, with 700 X 25s.  I had no problems at all.}

A couple of members of the group were riding a bit more cautiously, so we slowed a bit a couple of times to preserve group integrity.  I should add, this was in no way an inconvenience.  The two “catchup intervals” lasted less than a minute each.  So, no folks, you were not holding the group up!

This dirt road stretch is almost completely dark.  It is very rural, and we encountered absolutely no traffic on it.  It’s very definitely “Sleepy Hollow” country, but we saw no werewolves, zombies, or headless horsemen.  (One of our members did say,  “Pedal faster, I hear banjos.”)

After about three miles of amusing and pleasant dirt, we arrived at the covered bridge.  This is the “longest wooden span covered bridge” in Georgia.  More than half of the bridge is not covered, but is an open wood span bridge, with a cover at the western end.  As we were approaching from the east, we rode the exposed span first, and then the covered section.

Riding through that covered section is tricky.  We stopped for a moment, and I discussed the technique.  Most chose (wisely, I think) to dismount and walk through the covered portion.  I always stop here, and let the group precede me.  This lets them stop on the other side and turn to watch the bridge.  It’s really neat to see it light up from the inside, as a rider approaches.

After crossing the bridge, we just stopped on the road, extinguished our lights, and looked up at the night sky.  It was an incredibly clear night, with cool air and no moon.  The sky was magnificent!  The Milky Way was clearly visible, and I was able to make out several less visible star groups.  (There’s not a lot of light pollution that far out, and the “seeing” was excellent!)

Pavement!  Yay!  After the covered bridge, the rest of the ride seems somewhat anticlimactic.  We were on good pavement (except for the “Georgia Pave” section of Mt. Carmel Rd.) for the rest of the trip.  We even managed a brief necessary store stop in Gay.

I was beginning to feel the dropping temp as we approached GA-362, and other riders had grown silent.  I judged that, while all present could do just about any thing I put before them, all would appreciate getting to warmth a bit sooner.  That said, I took the shorter return option.  We rolled into Hollonville with an official 32.8 miles under our wheels, 2:21:43 rolling time, and an overall of 2:51:00 ride time.

Folks, I thank all of you who came out.  You’re a great bunch, and should be commended on your ability and skill.  It’s a pleasure to ride with each and every one of you.  For those of you who missed this, you missed a truly good ride.

How’s the Autumn treating you?

It won’t be long.  My schedule is such that when I ride in to work, I’m always going to be in daylight, but it won’t be long until the homeward trip ends up in the dark.  So what preparations and precautions are necessary to that kind of riding?

Tip 1) It’s not possible to carry too much lighting.  Get good lights.  They will pay you back.

Tip 2)  Be Prepared!  If you are starting a ride after 2:00 P.M., carry a light with you.  It’s just too easy to find yourself coming home in the dark.  (Remember!  We go back to Standard Time on Sunday 6 November.  After that, sunset will be before 6:00 P.M.!)

Tip 3)  Always have a “backup” light.  Carry a spare light for those times when you have problems with the “main.”  With today’s high efficiency LED systems, it’s easy and relatively inexpensive.

Tip 4)  There is no such thing as being too visible.  Reflective vests, reflective ankle bands, reflective tape, and reflectors are cheap, light, and greatly improve your visibility.  Remember!  You want motorists to think,  “What on earth is that?”

I see and hear a lot of chatter about the dangers of riding at night.  Oddly, I feel a bit safer.  Usually motorists give me more room at night.  I am seldom subjected to “buzz” passes, and rarely experience the rude shouts.  Traffic is generally lighter after dark.

One issue I’ve dealt with is the dazzle of oncoming headlights.  (Somebody tell me, please, why is it that most cars have badly miss-aimed headlights?  And why are the worst offenders the ones who seem to insist on driving with their ultra-bright highbeams on?  The best solution I’ve found to this is to have two lights running, one on the bike, and another on the helmet.  As the dazzle becomes impossible, one can look down and to the right, using the helmet light to burn through the glare and locate the edge of the road.  It helps enormously to know that you are at the right hand side of the road, and not about to fall off.

NOTE: A ride report on last night’s Mid-Fall Celebration Night Ride will appear tomorrow.  It was late when I got in last night.  

Notes From All Over

Night Ride Tonight!  That’s right.  It’s time for another of our seasonal night rides.  This one is the Mid-Fall (Samhain) Celebration Night Ride.  We’ll be starting out from the Hollonville Opry House.  Ride time is 7:30 P.M. (sharp!)  It’s approximately 40 miles, with some really seasonally appropriate features to the route.  You’ll need lights that are good and strong, good taillights, and the proper reflective gear, including, ankle bands and a vest or sash.  Pace will be fairly relaxed, and the group will stay together.

The Samhain Ride is just about the end of the “season.”  Of course we’ll end the year up with the two annual Christmas Lights Rides, but they are more local and more festive, a bit less (and more) of an adventure.  Do come if you can, and if you can’t be happy and safe.

Great weekend just past.  The Fall weather turned a bit cooler last week, but it has certainly provided us with some excellent riding conditions.  Admittedly, my morning commutes got a bit chilly.  But wasn’t it grand seeing the turning colors, and the crisp, sharp, clear weather.  I hope you all have taken the time to get out in this!

A yearly observance:  Yes, it’s time.  Time for an annual ritual, I refer to as the Changing of the Wardrobe.  Time to pack away most of the Summer gear, and get out the cool and cold weather stuff.  Inventory and inspection of the harsh weather suite is a yearly chore.  But it’s time to do that.  At the same time, we select the Summer stuff that will go into storage until the middle of next Spring.

I’m sometimes asked the question,  “How do you know when to do that?”  Well, my primary marker is the “First Ride in Tights.”  Every year there is one.  It’s that ride when you just know that you need to go out in tights.  Not leg warmers or knee warmers, but full-length tights.  That’s my signal.  Once that happens, it’s time to rotate the riding wardrobe.

Next week, I’m out of town.  I’ll be leaving soon, for different parts.  I have no idea what kind of computer access I’ll have, and for that matter, I may just not feel like doing any posting.  So, from 28 October, through 4 November, you can expect posts to be spotty.  Don’t worry too much.  Regular blogification and bloviation will resume, promptly, on Monday, 7 November.

Up and coming…  Are you ready for the Annual Penance Ride?  It’s going to happen on New Year’s Day.  It’s a 100+ mile ride.  Start the year off right!  You’ll be seeing more on this one soon.

Friday Follies ~~ Human Power: A Lesson in Humility

~//~

“I ride a bike.  In the Winter, I ride inside on rollers or on the ‘hamsterbike.’  I eat food, and then I make a lot of power.  But I just let that power go to waste.  I wonder if I could run some lights, or charge batteries with the bike?”

~//~

I would venture to guess that just about every cyclist has had thoughts like that.  Some years ago, I got the idea that I could use the bike to develop a reasonable amount of electrical power.  Power meters were not readily available then, so I was estimating my power output, based on things that I read and my rough understanding of the work necessary to move a bicycle.

I had a generator lighting system on my bike.  This was a 12-volt system, driven by a “bottle” generator.  That’s the kind of generator that works by having a little wheel rubbing against the tire of the bike.   It had problems.  It tended to wear out tires.  It didn’t emit a lot of light.  When I was climbing a hill (common in that area) the light dropped to almost nothing.  When I wasn’t moving, the light went out.  Most of that didn’t factor into my thinking.

I had the thought that, if I eliminated the ordinary load of moving the bike, and hooked up multiple generators, I could produce a significant amount of power.  Seemed like a thing worth doing.

I cobbled up a bike stand, using a bike cargo rack and the wreckage of two old deck chairs.  The result was wobbly, but it served to suspend the rear wheel above the ground, and I could mount it and spin the pedals.

I mounted first one, and then another of those bottle generators onto the frame, then hooked them up in parallel.  That would be my first test.  I breadboarded a series the low power light sockets, and an array of switches.  My plan was to switch in the lights one at a time. 

I mounted the bike and began pedaling.  The first light burned brightly, and I wasn’t even working yet.  In fact, by really spinning up the wheel, I was able to burn the single bulb out.  After I replaced it, I resumed my experimenting, but a little more carefully.

In short order, I had six of the lights burning brightly, and I still wasn’t working hard.  (Of course, the lights did tend to flicker as my speed changed.  That got better when I shifted to higher gears and spun.)

I showed the rig to my father.  Dad was an electrical engineer by training.  He glanced at what I’d accomplished, watched a demonstration, and said,  “Impressive.  I’d say you’re burning about 50 watts, and with reasonable allowances for losses, probably applying about 75 to 80 watts to the bike.  What’s next?”

I told him I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to investigate charging batteries.

“Should be interesting,”  Dad said.  “Be careful though.”

My plan was to increase the output.  I mounted two more generators to the bike, on the opposite from the first two.  I’ll spare you the details, but that didn’t work well.  You see, these were generators.  (A fact which will be important later too!)  That meant that they delivered direct current.  More important, the polarity of the current depended on which way the generator was spinning.  In essence, I’d done the same thing as putting half the batteries into the gadget pointing the wrong way.  I produced no light with this rig, but I did let the smoke out of one of the generators.  (All electrical devices run on smoke.  If one lets the smoke out of an electrical device it no longer works.  Q.E.D.)

Once I figured that one out, I simply reversed the output wiring on my second pair of generators.

At that time, my family had an old Gravely Tractor.  This was a monstrous ancestor of today’s modern lawn tractors.  The thing had an electric starter, but no means of charging the battery.  So the battery (a miniature version of an automotive one) had to be removed and charged with a battery charger.  I figured this would be a great test of the practical side of my riggery.  After all, I had figured out how to produce something like 100 watts of 12-volt electrical power.  That should be significant, right?  Well…  maybe.

I wired everything up, jumped on the bike, and threw the switch.  Yikes!  To my huge dismay, I wasn’t turning the cranks.  They were turning me!  In fact, the rear wheel was being spun so fast that the driveline could not keep up with it.  The chain jumped off and fowled.  The wheel jammed, and the little generators were still spinning hard against it!  Before I could reach the switch, more smoke was emitted, and the whole thing came to a stop.

Here’s the thing, without getting too technical, a DC motor, and a DC generator are fundamentally just about identical.  If one applies a direct current to a generator, it will act as a motor.  In short, it will turn!  Another point of interest; a storage battery that is so discharged that it will not start a tractor, will likely have plenty of charge left in it.

The ultimate solution to that problem lay in a bit of electronic rigging.  I cannibalized an automotive alternator to get a couple of high power diodes, and I scrounged up a hefty rheostat to limit the current.  This let me have current flow in only one direction from my homebrew power plant, and it allowed me to control how much current would flow.  If I wanted to charge the battery slowly, but not have a lot of leg strain, I could do so.  But the thing was, if I wanted to charge it quickly, I had to work.  I mean really really work!  At that, the best compromise I could arrive at was about four hours to pump the battery up enough so that it would start the lawn tractor a couple of times.

All this was (pardon the pun) an illuminating experience.

In the years since, I’ve learned a few things.  From the standpoint of generating power, a human is a pretty puny engine.  Most of us have weed wackers, or leaf blowers that are capable of generating a lot more power than we can.

Thursday Thoughts: Locational Musings

A couple of notes to begin with.  I’ve been around.  I’ve had the privilege of riding a bicycle (actually a lot of different bicycles, some very different!) in a lot of different places.  I will readily admit that I haven’t been everywhere…  Not by a long measure.

Here in north Georgia, we have some interesting cycling conditions.  We have hills.  We have the (occasional) flat stretch.  We have traffic.  We have long stretches of nearly deserted roadways.  We have seasons.  In fact we have four distinct seasons.  None of those climatic shifts are particularly severe, but all are worthy of their names.

The suburban county of Fayette, south of Atlanta, has a largely transient population.  Most current residents are not native.  The majority have not been here for longer than two years.  Many have only recently arrived from some other place.  (That’s Yankee for, Ya’ll ain’t frum ‘rouand heyah, ahh ya’ll?)

Between working in bicycle retail, and leading a fair number of rides, I encounter a lot of people, and manage to encounter a lot of the recently arrived.  For some reason, there are those among them who feel impelled to comment on our local conditions.  These comments are notable because they are usually issued as criticisms.  More, once determined where the individual is from, they are downright odd!

Examples:

Statement:  “You don’t have much in the way of hills around here.”  From a recently arrived Ohio native.

Response:  Huh?  Actually we do.  I’ve ridden in your part of Ohio.  The three hills there are significant, but it’s mostly pretty flat by our standards.

Statement:  “The drivers around here are all crazy!  I don’t know how anyone can ride on these roads.”  From a Philadelphia, PA resident.

Respones:  I take it you rode mostly in the gym?  I’ve lived, worked, and ridden extensively in that area.  The drivers who aren’t homicidal, are rude and vicious.  Tailgating has been elevated to a folk art.

Statement:  “You don’t have any shoulders on your roads.  How can anyone ride around here?”

Response:  There is a tiny bit of justification to what you say.  You do have shoulders in most of New York State.  On the other hand, they are in terrible repair.  I didn’t know that potholes could be that deep.  Riding most of those shoulders is tantamount to signing one’s own death warrant.  I’ll stick to here.

Statement:  (Recently arrived from Colorado)  “You don’t have any real mountains around here.”

Response:  Yes we do.  Actually, riding in the Southern Great Smokies compares to the finest mountain riding in the world.

Necessary additional digression:  I have ridden in Colorado.  The Rockies are spectacular.  But great climbs?  Not so much.  Most of the roads out there are much more historically recent.  They were built by removing half the mountain.  They tend to be terrifically long grinds, at a constant, but not too severe grade.  When I get this one, I often offer to take the individual up to North Georgia, and do some real mountain work.  Our mountains are not as tall as the Rockies, but the roads are much older, usually steeper, and a lot more technical.  Oddly, my offer is usually declined, with regret.  Occasionally (rarely) I’ve had one of these new chums accept.  It’s always been an enlightening experience.

Statement:  (From Illinois)  “You southerners don’t know what cold is.  Where I come from we have real Winters.”

Response 1:  Shut up and come see me in August.

Response 2:  Yes you do.  I’ve been there.  You don’t ride in them either.

Response 3 (delivered in mid-January):  We’re riding this afternoon.  Come join us.  The immediate reply is usually,  “What?  It’s too cold out there for riding!”

Statement:  “I’ve been living in France.  There are a lot more cyclists there.  Everybody rides.”

Response:  I’ve been there.  No they don’t.  And the ones that do are stark raving mad.  Sidewalks, wrong way.  Wrong way streets.  Rude.  About two cuts below a Hew York messenger.  Given the way they drive, and the way they ride, the wonder is that they haven’t yet killed half of their own population.

I guess that a recent move almost always produces some longing for the familiar.  At the same time, it seems to provide a convenient excuse for not getting on the bike.

Commuting: Traffic Play

I’m standing astride my bike, looking across a four lane, divided highway.  I’m about to make a left turn onto this beast, during evening rush hour. 

The trip from my shop to this point has been a pleasant warm up.  I left the shop at 6:30.  This is long after the afternoon school dismissal and golf cart drag races.  In truth, getting out of this town is always a challenge.  Between golf carts, SUVs, German sports sedans, minivans, pickups, motorcycles, and the odd Lexus, Peachtree City just may be have the most motorized conveyances per capita of any city in the world.  I estimate that there are about 2.3 motorized go-buggies for each and every resident.  And somehow they manage to get 81% of them on the road at the same time.  Yet today, most of the in-town motors are quiet.

I stand poised.  I’ve had a nice warm up, but it’s time to focus sharply.  Here there is no room for internal dialogs, it’s be here, in this moment.  Total attention.  ON the balance between complete alert and toned relaxation state.

I’m watching the flow from my left.  Those two lanes are the most important.  Usually, I have to cross them, and then wait in the median for the far lanes to clear.  But today I get a full four-lane gap.  Push off and go!

I carve across four lanes and accelerate.  I’ve learned the trick to handling this stretch of road.  It’s keep moving, and keep the speed up.  On this first, slight, incline, I hold at 18 mph, while keeping a watchful eye on the 65 mph overtaking traffic.  The first burst of overtakers completes passing me as I top the rise.

The light ahead is changing, and I’m alone, with the next group of ovetakers well behind.  Good!  I’m going to have the “pole position” at the light.  That’s ideal.

The light changes, and I surge ahead.  Traffic begins to move past me.  I’ll be doing 25 mph by the time they are all clear of me.  I’ve shifted up into the “haul butt” gears as I power down the hill.  My let turn is coming.

I have a clean road behind.  Excellent!  I glide to the left, even as I push the big gears hard.  I’m doing well over 30, as I begin to see traffic topping the hill behind me.  It’s going to be close, but that’s alright.

Weight the bike left, and flow into the turn lane as the traffic overtakes.  I’ve been checking the oncoming lanes.  Yes!  The gap I saw coming is timing just right.  I’m going to make it in one smooth, uninterrupted arc.  And…  I’m done!

I’m on the relatively low traffic side road.  I’m still moving pretty good, with a bit of reserve heart rate available before I go anaerobic.  I like to keep it going on this slight uphill stretch, get away from the highway, and burn off the adrenaline.

That stretch isn’t always like that, but today it was perfect.  Smooth, fast, good execution, legal, and just right.

Utility Cycling: Why?

I track a fair number of folks within the cycling advocacy community.  The topic of promoting bicycle use for vehicular purposes arises a lot.  Opinions seem to be split as to just how to do this.  There are two schools of thought on the subject.  I think of them as the Nuts and Bolts Crowd and the Tom Sawyer Faction.  Oddly, while they both urge us to the same action, their underlying assumptions are almost exactly opposites.

Nuts And Bolts Crowd: 

Basic assumption:  You already want to use your bike for utility, or transportation, and you would…  If you just knew how.

This group believes that you have the desire, but lack the knowledge.  They are full of advice on equipment and techniques.  They are a valuable resource for those who haven’t yet attempted the thing.

Tom Sawyer Faction:

Basic assumption:  People would ride for utility if they just understood how it would benefit them.  You have a bike, or know how to use one, and could get one if you wanted to.  Knowledge isn’t your obstacle, but rather motivation.  If you just knew how good this was, why then you would do it.

Likely, both camps are right…  some of the time.  For that reason, we try to provide information on both the How of utility cycling, and the Why you might want to do it.  Of necessity, a lot of this information is based on our personal experience.

But wait, there’s more.  Lately, we’ve come to realize that most of the advice we dispense here is slanted toward the practical.  We talk about the money that can be saved.  We focus on time constraints.  We preach on about cycling as a means of avoiding traffic congestion.  We extol the health benefits.  All that is true and good, but we just might have been missing the boat a bit.

Commuting is FUN!

That’s right, I said FUN!!

Hey!  Why in the world do we ride bikes?  Here’s an exercise.  Please list your top three reasons for riding.  Do that in any order that they occur to you.  Then rank those reasons according to their importance to you.  Be honest.  No one else is going to see this.  Go ahead.  Do it now.  I’ll wait.

Got your list?  Now, I’ll bet I can name two of the top three reasons you listed. 

One of them will translate to “Improved mental health.”  Another will be something like, “It’s a lot of fun.”  Did I win my bet?

Okay, so you ride because it’s fun.  Sure, you justify and rationalize it.  You talk about weight control, and fitness.  You may be one of the “speed at any cost” crowd.  But, ultimately, you ride to have fun.  It’s a playtime thing.  And you know what?  That’s okay!  You may be a grownup, but you need to play.  Sure, you don’t need to play all the time, but you do need to play.  It makes you young and happy.  It’s good for you!

Now here’s the big secret:  I refer to my commuting, deep inside myself, as…    Are you ready for this?  Here goes…  Playing in traffic!

Yup!  I’m as serious as a heart attack.  I have fun commuting.  It’s a pleasurable activity.  No, not all the time, or all of any one trip, but on balance, it’s just plain fun!  

Monday

One week from today, is the Mid-Fall (Samhain) Celebration Night Ride.  At this point the long-range forecast is quite favorable.  It should be a crisp Fall night.  It will be a dark one, with no moon in the sky, just about ideal for the “Sleepy Hollow” aspect of this ride.

Remember, we’re starting from the Hollonville Opry House, at the intersection of Kingsbridge Rd, and GA-364, in Hollonville.  The ride will start promptly at 7:30 P.M.

In the interest of full disclosure, there will be an unpaved road section, of about three miles.  I scouted the route this past weekend.  The road surface is excellent for the greatest part of that section, and good for the last half mile.

Lights and good reflective gear are an absolute must for this ride.  It will be dark out there.

More Monday

I usually like Mondays.  It’s the day that the work week starts, and I (mostly) enjoy my work.  Each Monday seems to hold some promise for the week ahead.

For me, Monday is a training rest day.  I drive to work.  No riding on Monday.  No training on Monday.  (Of course this does not include test rides.) 

Monday is the day that helps enable my cycle-commuting.  I use the truck to carry a set of clean laundry in to the shop.  That way I don’t have to carry the stuff on the bike each day.  It’s a goodly day for a great many things.

I do miss my early morning rides on Mondays.  Hauling the trash bin to the curb is a poor substitute.  But it’s time to get this week rolling!

Friday Follies ~~ A Commute that Wasn’t

(NOTE:  As promised, here’s the sad tale of the Tuesday morning commute.)

It’s been a long dry spell.  I’m referring to the weather.  I haven’t had a truly challenging rain ride in a long time.  So the prospect of commuting in the rain was actually appealing.  Add that it was supposed to be windy, and I was even more enthusiastic.  (I love riding in the wind!)  I even posted a quick note that I was planning to do it, and was looking forward to it.

Sometimes plans have a way of not surviving contact with reality.

I thought I had stuff pretty well set up for the trip.  The thing is, rain commutes are a bit more complicated.

Most mornings, I do an early workout ride.  That’s a bit less of a problem.  It’s local to my home.  I can tolerate being wet, cold, hungry, or dry for a short time, knowing that I’ll soon be home, where everything is.  Showers.  Food.  Towels.  Dry clothing.

But commuting involves a bit more in the way of logistics.  All of my support stuff has to either be already at the shop, or I have to carry it in with me.  If I’m carrying it, it has to remain dry.  It’s also best if I can remain as dry as possible.  More logistics.

I went to bed with the thought that I had things pretty much in control.

Morning arrived.  I suited up for a wet and windy pre-dawn workout ride.  That went pretty well.  I was soaked to the bone, and chilled pretty good by the time I finished, but there was a hot shower, food, and clean dry clothing waiting for me.

Then things began to go a bit awry.

I couldn’t find the rain jacket I intended to use.  The trusty tourist took more trouble to get out and ready than I’d anticipated.  (That comes of being mid-stream in a major garage-shop cleanup and reorganization.)  I needed to find my tool bag.

Time out from search for tool bag.  Make sandwiches.  Resume search for tool bag.  Interrupt search to scurry around and assemble ride clothing.  (And just where in blazes is that [expurgated] jacket!?)

Oh spit!  I have to transfer my organizer, wallet, phone, and keys from my pack to the tourist bag!  Do it now!

That was the exact moment that one cat chose to get under my feet while another cat decided to knock everything off of the kitchen counter.  (I swear they plan this stuff.)

Shoes!  I’ll need a dry pair of shoes at work.  Go find them and put them in the pack.

There’s the jacket!  Was it hanging there all the time?

Gloves!  It’s chilly out there.  And wet.  Where are my full-finger mid-weights?  I could use the regulars, but my hands won’t recover for at least two hours.  (A less than ideal situation for a mechanic.)

Now, did I already put wallet, keys, organizer, and phone on the bike?  What about reserve lights?

What TIME is it!?

There comes a time.  It’s a finite calculation.  If I don’t leave by X, I won’t have time to ride to work and be on time.  But if I don’t leave at X, I have an extra half hour, and the logistics of driving are considerably less involved.  At X minus five minutes, I realized it just wasn’t going to happen.

All of the above is pretty much the result of being “behind the curve” on the seasonal changes to my riding habits.  I’ve just received a signal.  It’s time to re-organize for Fall and Winter riding.  Summer invites us to be a bit more casual about our preparations.  Fall and Winter rides require more infrastructure.  It’s doable, but it takes a bit more planning, and some changes in habit-patterns.

BTW, I did get to work on time, and I did manage a nice rain-ride that evening.

So…  Do you have days like this?