SQUIRREL, Right

Way too many posts about the pup on facebook and especially my bike blog. How's about we combine the two?!

YeeHa! Not only did we find an activity to enjoy together but we found a decent place to do it. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for trail jouring. But the C&O will do just fine.

Our second attempt went quite a bit better than the first but it's still cumbersome and stressful. SQUIRREL.

The first time out we came up on a biker who was about to get an earful if he didn't just RIDE ON. We had me, the dog, another dog, the long leash, a 29er. It's a lot to handle. Then the biker passing on the left. The one who just slowed and kept saying "On your RIGHT." Can you just RIDE?!? Seriously dude. I'm facing you, I can see you. The dog sees you. The couple off trail sees you. We ALL effing see you!

PS...you are on everyone's LEFT.

Perhaps he was nervous. I'm sure it looks scary. Me, holding the dog, it jumping and excited. But did you also notice us stopped, off trail, anxiously waiting for you to PASS? The longer you draw this out the worse it's gonna get. So put your footsies to the pedals and get on them!

Again, for the record you are on our left, your right. Pedal on.

Ups and Downs

I hate to call the girl out but this is how it went down. First, I'm not sure if this makes us a perfect couple or unable to ride together...but this is what's up. I like to go up. And she likes to go down.

That sounds a little dirtier than it really is.

So the girl likes to be on top. Again, you are thinking dirtier than it is. She doesn't like to be whipped...ahh, again. Let's just say, she's competitive. And I am kicking her ass...fancy bike and all.

From my position uptrail, I heard quite the clatter. She threw her bike. THREW her bike. In the woods. Things were definitely NOT looking up. Ah, but if only that meant it were all downhill from here. That could fix everything.

I hesitated to say it, but  baby, can you find it in your heart to try NOT to throw your bike into the woods? To which she replied, I knew I should have never let you buy me a bike. It is true what they say, you should never buy a girl a bike. But I married her so I thought it was okay.

No, it is your bike. Technically you can do anything you want with it. I'm just asking you to try really hard not to hoist it above your waist and shotput it into a pine tree. See, technically, I will be the one fixing it when it's broke...so there's that. And I'm not that great a mechanic. Besides it's not good for the pine tree, worse for the bike, and do you really want to walk back to the car?

Heeheehee Banana. Let's RIDE.

2 States, 2 Countries, 2 Posts!

Well this is a little odd for me, but there's just no way around it. Two posts under the same date. Give us a break we rode all the way to another country and back...we deserve TWO posts!

So if you're following along you know how the trip began. Keys, bag, passports...Yeah. Now let's get to the ride. The goal is simple...Vermont to Canada to New York and back to Vermont. In one day. On mountain bikes. With one tube. Ah....yep.

I carry a (1) tube and tools and a pump. The girl does not. I know this about her....or at least it's a really good guess. But I still only carry for myself...knowing full well if anything happens it's on me no matter who goes flat first.

So she's up ahead cruising down the hill and as I catch up I start to hear (to me) the unmistakable sound of a flat tire happening. I check my rear. My front. I'm good. So I ask the girl, do you have a flat? She says, no but there's a rattlesnake in the weeds.

A rattlesnake?!? Did you see it? And are you sure you don't have a flat? The noise is still there. The snake is not. She is convinced of both. Snake in the grass, air in the tires. Okay, I pass her and pedal on. I hear her call from the back, falling further behind, I think I have a flat.

Ah...yep. So we pull over and I start to dig into my bag...being extra special careful not to lose the passports.  Meanwhile the girl surprises me by taking off the rear wheel. I should hope she can change a flat, after all most of our beneficiaries can and she is my wife. Found the tube and levers, but I now notice the girl is removing the tube from the tire....Strike that, removing paints an incredibly toned down image of what was happening.

She is actually snatching the tube from the rim where it is being held captive by the nasty tire. Baby, what are you doing? You have to remove the bead of the tire from the rim before you take out the tube. I've never done this before, she quips. NEVER? Well, clearly, duh.

So here we are on mountain bikes being passed by 700c if at all and my one tube is already put into play. And we haven't even left Vermont. I'm a little panicked. What if we get another flat...in Canada? Do we walk back to the States, well, yeah I guess we would. Round trip was about 30 miles and 15 kilometers. Be a long walk. The girl is oblivious.

I actually assayed the situation and thought in a pinch, no pun intended, I could take the duct tape on the edge of her seat and possibly patch a tube if it happens again. If it's simple like a snake bite, that pun WAS intended.  But that's as long as I can get to her before she puts a choke hold on the imaginary rattlesnake and tears the living schrader out of it.

Passporting the Buck

It would be remiss of me to not include this story for the blog, although most will have already heard it in person had we met. It involves border patrol, passports, and visiting a foreign country...permanently.

Have I got your attention? I thought, what a great tale it would be - movie even - okay, the movie would be mediocre...but wouldn't it be funny if we rode our bikes all the way to Canada, got in, and then, lost our passports out of our backpack or something...it's always the or something that gets you.

What had happened whaz...we rode our bikes all the way to the road and we stopped. Still in the U.S. of A. mind you. To check the map. The girl wanted to go one way and I was sure the map said the other way. I'm usually wrong so I pulled out the map to check. Well, I went to remove my pack to pull out the map and the keys to the car swung around and whapped me in the face. Before I even opened the pack.

 

I looked at the girl. Who was last in my pack. And I remembered saying, be careful the passports are in there. And sure enough the pack was wide open, passports blowin' in the Vermont breeze. See now, I was already whining about riding my mountain bike all the way to Canada and how I was going to regret it on the way back...and already we had to make a detour...back to the car.

 

Because then the girl says, do you think the car is locked? Really? Do I think it's locked? When I clearly impatiently rode away before you were even out of the car! No, it's not locked. It's wide open. And I feel like there was a moment of hesitation when the girl actually thought, do we need to lock it? No, on second thought I'm quite certain that actually came out of her mouth.

 

See the irony of the whole tale is I just spent a buttload of cash fixing a window because I was afraid we would drive to Canada and it would be stuck open with our masses of personables trickling out of the Civic. And here we were about to consciously drive away with the car absolutely unlocked. Exactly how lazy are we?

 

We rode back and it wasn't as far as I thought. Together. We rode together, because we are a team. We both left the car unlocked. We both left the pack unzipped. We both rode back to fix the problem. It's not like we were in the wrong boat or something!

 

Oh, and that window I had fixed just for the trip...did I mention it's still broke?

Stumped

Day 3 on the trail handed me an obstacle. Really the whole experience has been nothing short on obstacles. It's one obstacle after another. It's what defines the trail.

We are referring to the Day 3 Obstacle as The Rake Incident. And it has a tree by which to lay offerings. And I suggest you lay offerings. To be on the safe side.

The trail is defined by stump holes. It's why the trail twists and turns. It's why there are logs to jump. It's why you probably shouldn't walk the trail, only ride...and it could swallow your wheel. Be Ware. No, No, DON'T be Ware...good lord!

I did fall in my share of holes the last few days. Swallowed whole. By a hole. Really, these are no joke. To the knee. To the hip! It will drop you an easy 2-3 feet. But it doesn't hurt. Like they said when I jumped out of a plane...you need actual ground to be afraid, or get hurt; without it you are just falling. Tree Falling.

 

Day 4 was slow going. I miss the rake. I can't seem to get anything done without it. I mean I pushed on, but it wasn't easy. I'm back in the city now and can't wait to get back to my trail. Which is somewhat crazy...there are perfectly good trails here, no rakes required.

Tedi's Timbers - A Work In Progress

Well I've had it with Eastern Shore living. I mean it's wet like all the time. Every day I wake up, wet. Foggy. Icy. Dew. Wet, wet, wet. That small town barber must always be late for work!

Then the sun comes out and it's gorgeous. I grab my gear, load the bike, drive entirely too far for a mediocre trail...only to get there and guess what, it's raining.

It's unpredictable. Unexplainable. Inexplicable.
Done.

But you can't win that easily with me. I'm gonna out trick mom nature and build my own trail in the back yard! Yes. That is what I'll do. And I'm just stubborn enough to pull that off.

So that's what I did, started clearing the backyard. After a decade of neglect it really wasn't so bad. Gives me something to do. Will give me somewhere to play. And the pup and me can run off leash without anyone yelling at us.

I'll admit, it's not the best trail. The turns are tight and the ground is mushy. But, it's. right. in. my. back. yard. It's doesn't get any better than that. Unless your backyard is Allegrippis, that would be better.

Come to think of it Gambrill was in my backyard and I never even went there then, so it doesn't hurt to make a day of it. Load up the car, ride til it hurts, stop at a bar, drink til it feels better...

Stick A Fork In It

Brave. That's what the guy said as he passed me. Brave. No, I'm tempted to say stupid, but it wasn't my idea. Although it was fun. But I like hills. And I like them even more on 29 inches. Felt like riding a StairMaster up a hill, outside, on the road. I guess that's what it felt like, has anyone ever rode a StairMaster up a hill on the road outside?

Here's the thing...never, ever bail on a trail. I know I sound like a broken record, but she never believes me. Has her own agenda. Thinks I'm out to get her. But you know, it never ends well. Usually you end up lost. Riding fatties on concrete. Nobody likes that.

 

This time I knew where I was. I just didn't love it. And I knew she wouldn't either. Earlier she said she didn't like riding that road, with no shoulder. And here we were back on it. With a 49% grade. Give or take a percentage point. Depending on if you ask her or me.

In her defense, she broke her bike. Her new classic amazing race machine. Broke. Yes, that's what I was afraid of when we stole it from that guy at the swap. And when I lifted it ever so carefully and put it on the rack of the car I questioned the watery oil concoction seeping down my forearm.

 

I don't know very much about shocks, even less about oil based shocks, but I'm thinking oil running from the fork is bad. Very bad. But that explains the bargain bike. Still worth it even if we need to buy a new fork, but what a drag to find out mid ride at technical Patapsco.

 

So I don't blame her, she should want to bail on the trail. She is after all riding it on an oversized underwheeled road bike. While I take a sabbatical on my oversized overwheeled comfort style mountain bike.

Don't tell the kids but these 29ers might be the off roader for the elderly. Seriously they are super comfy and easy to ride. No pulling through a rock garden. No header after your crank sticks in a log. No aching back as you hover over the flat bar cranking out the miles. This baby feels like a comfort bike built for the woods. How cute that the youngsters find them trendy. And I didn't even mention the extra three inches. Ladies, size DOES matter.

Here's Mud On Your Thigh

Thems my pants. This My Dear, is why I need to buy new pants. So the other day the girl gives me grief, says "don't you already have a brown pair of pants?"

I'm sorry, aren't you the one who wanted to go to Gabe's, absolutely knowing neither one of us needed a single thing from there?? But really, who can pass up a trip to Gabe's?

Skipping Gabe's. It's like eating one Pringle, who the hell can do that? Come to think of it I'm not even sure that's a word. Pringle. I'm quite certain the correct use of that word would always require plurality, Pringles. Anyway...

Then, she wants an inventory of my brown pants selection.

THEN, she puts on my brown pants to go biking. Mountain biking. In the mud. And of course she falls. Repeatedly. In my brown pants. Yes, thank god they were already brown. But I repeat, this is why I need to buy new pants. ANOTHER pair of brown pants.

That's What You Get For A Dollar

Today I took my bike for a ride. In a car. I took my bike for a drive. And I wasn't happy about it. But it rained so I guess it doesn't matter anyway.

So instead of a nice leisurely, flat ride on the laid back Eastern Shore...cuz let's be honest the only place you can get a nice, leisurely ride on the Eastern Shore is in the woods, deep in the thickly populated dense forest, protected from the harsh flatland winds...I digress...

So anyway I got some sketchy directions. And let's be completely frank, I only blame myself because clearly I wasn't paying close enough attention. I remember something about a Y. But the girl does talk to me like I sprouted from a local country field, trolled the beaches since I was knee high to a praying mantis, was perfectly pooped from a purdue chicken butt. "You head toward Pocomoke..." I mean really, I have a 50-50% chance I guess and I know it ain't north. She's right I ought to know...But I never found the forest.

Instead I ended up making a circle and wound up right back in town. Otherwise known as, Route 13. Here, for miles and miles and miles, one can embark on the Dollar Tour. Dollar Tree, Dollar General, Family Dollar, Dollar Store, there's even one called Family Dollar Store. And this is in no way to be confused with Big Lots or Ollies Bargain Outlet.

So instead of doing ride bys of deciduous trees we were doing bargain buys at Dollar Trees. Not quite the same. It wasn't a good day on the Eastern Shore. I'm not sure if the rain made it better or worse. wah, wah, wah.

Time To Lower The Bar

Yes you guessed it. The bike went back. Today. Before Christmas even arrived. And here I sit with nothing under the tree, or really, next to nothing. I still have the monkey.

I could promise to buy another one, but if you read the last post she had the smallest adult bike they make. I might be exaggerating, but I still had to face the chick mechanic at the shop and try to explain why this amazing bike was coming back. An no offense, but she's not ready for a $5,000 carbon replacement (the next step up).

There was talk of T-Rex arms and stand over centimeters...she looked at me like I was crazy. I said, she's afraid of hitting the bar. I told her I asked how many times that had happened...None, but it could said my girl. And I can't touch the ground.... Okay. Oh dear, your trail cred is dwindling fast my love. I feel a life of redirected energy a'fore me.

The girl at the shop just looked at me (again). I shrugged. I know the girl teeters on her motorcycle, but this is a 20 lb. bicycle not an 800 lb. motorbike. The last trail I rode had right around the estimate of ZERO red lights or stop signs. And really....Why are we stopping on the bike anyway, just ride!

I honestly can't remember a time when I wasn't 'coming off' the bike because I couldn't handle the terrain. It was steep, it was rocky, I was flying over the handlebars as I nosed into a log. There's not too many times when I can touch the ground and way too many when I was getting intimate with my bike parts. (what the neighbor calls the 'vagina bar') The girl in the shop agreed, she can't touch the ground on her bike and she said, if the bar isn't all up in your business something is wrong.

I rode it from my car to the curb and cried just a little. She said, we could fit you on one for you. To which I replied, if I could find a way to fit Sneezy onto my old bike you'd have a deal!

So the bike went back. It's good for the vacation fund...except the vacation won't include mountain biking. :( I believe her, the bar was high, but the price was right and the components bomber. I couldn't pass up the deal. Too bad, it just didn't fit Cinderella.

Not Your Grandma's Oldsmobile

"That's a big bi....ke". Why yes Parker, indeed it is. Such a big bike for such a bitty girl. Yes, yes, that's precisely why the girl is getting it early. That, and she doesn't much like change...and this is a big change. I'm already prepared to return it...:(

I know, I know, I am breaking Rule #1...NEVER buy a girl a bike. Never. It's what I tell all the boys. But I've got a couple things in my corner. First the girl can ride. And second the girl is mine.

But, back to that snag...she doesn't care much for change. She definitely doesn't do different. Same town, same job, same 80s polo...I mean the actual shirt, not just the style. The girl holds on. This looks good for my future, I mean I'm lucky she ever picked me in the first place, but she did. And maybe, just maybe she'll hold on to me...I did after all buy her a bike.

 

But it's not looking good for the bike. A 29er. It's big. It's different. What? She has totally earned it; she's a kick ass rider. She deserves the Lexus of mountain bikes. You wait, she'll jump on it and love it. I did! Truly, I hopped on this thing and it felt like a luxury car. She rolls smooth. Up and over the curbs like butter. Across the parking lot in a jiff.

 

What's that? It's not for me? I know, I know. Maybe she'll let me ride it. Oh, who are we kidding this thing will NEVER fit me. It's an XS (the smallest they make) WSD frame...they don't get any smaller. The next step down and we'd be looking at 20 inchers in the kiddie section. Would you like us to remove the training wheels ma'am? No, my monkey arms would never crunch into this geometry. Although I can ride anything.

 

But it is sweet. Makes me want one of my own. Wasn't I the one that said, 29ers? Pwah, just another gimmick to get us to buy another bike, who needs it. Me! Me! Me, I need it! There's plenty of room in the bike barn. Go Buy A Bike.

 

Wait, if a bike is as good as an engagement ring...and I already bought the ring...oooh, I am such a sucker. If you like it then you should have put a chain ring on it...

 

Whoever thought the name Oldsmobile was a good name for a car??

A Lesson In Communication

What she said was, my chain came off and my brake is rubbing a little bit. I didn't take a hint. We kept going. This is the first of the many blog posts I promised in an upcoming mountain bike series...word of caution: it might also be the last.

Now I don't know if this was before or after she decided to ram her bicycle into a tree in hopes of rendering her bike useless forcing us back to the parking lot. If this happened before the chain came off...I'm thinking this might be why.

If, however, it happened after....Baby, we need to address your stubbornness.  When I stop and ask, how we doing....the generic answer is not fine. When I stop and ask if you want to go to the zoo...I'm saying, would you like to take a break from the bike and go look at animals. Maybe I should have asked, would you like to have pizza?

Turns out my wording is all wrong. This isn't the first time I've heard this. When we got to a turning point what I said was, do you want to BAIL? I hear it now, I get it, you're right. What I needed to say was, would you like to redirect our energy in a more advantageous way to make the most of our dwindling time together and perhaps grab some food before you need to head back home?

In my defense, I did ask about the zoo. It's my gentle reminder about our 'safe word' Po-UHOH-ny. Damn it, I did it again. I missed her obscure clue. What she said was, what's that brown thing over there? Like a clueless dolt I said HORSE. Which dumb ass....is the same as....PONY.

Huff and Puff and Bluff

You may be scratching your head these days over the topic of this blog. You look up, you look over, it appears to be about biking and yet the body is disguised as something else. Why did you sign up for this feed after all? Certainly not the wisdom, or the entertainment. Why DO you read this insanity?

Well, strap yourself in, you are in for quite the ride, AND we are bringing it back to riding. I anticipate some lively entries this upcoming riding season. I, as you know, have more time to kill. And perhaps you've noticed I've also acquired a girl...to kill. Tell your friends, they're gonna wanna subscribe.

She will tell you different. She will puff out her chest and spit quite the smack. I will goad her on. I will tease and taunt her. She will call my bluff. I will chase her up hills. She will run me off the trail on the down. IF she can catch me.

I think her lungs will explode. She has informed me it is not about lungs, but heart. Baby, this isn't a Hallmark card, pocket your sappy sentiment.  These are her exact words, not lungs, but heart. I am recording them here so I can feed them to her later. A mid-trail snack. That is if her heart doesn't stop due to lack of oxygen. I'm just saying....

But we ARE talking single track. She doesn't get to pass me on the down if she can't get ahead of me on the up. I don't doubt she will blow me away on the downhill. We haven't been on the trails together yet. She will say she is fearless. It could be that. It could be her competitive nature. Stubbornness?  Perhaps stupidity? It could be she's a card carrying insurance holder, and I am not. I'll let you, the reader, be the future judge and jury.

Like I told her earlier, it is she who makes it uphill first that controls the speed on the other side in single track. Baby, try to keep up.

Night Rider

Again, I ride home with the kids after school; again we arrive in the dark. I can't imagine the time they get home on foot. Okay, maybe they are showing off a little for the special guests...

And therefore, maybe we had a minor accident on the way. I was overly eager to see every aspect of this amazing project, but really guys an accident is a little much. I am quite certain this was not on the itinerary. But I get the concept of needing insurance for the kids, kudos to Peacock for supplying it.

So as we waited with our injured biker one of the students picks up Bong's bike. He could lift it with one finger. This is one measurement that is consistent with the measurements in the States. The student's bike weights about 55 lbs. Bong's 5.

I'm pretty sure the kid wanted to ride it, but looked at it like an alien hybrid.  He couldn't find the shifters. I couldn't understand a bit of what they are saying, but I'm not stupid. And neither is he...

I watched him follow the cable, look under the handlebar, and push on the bolts.  Good thinking. I mean he did all the logical things before moving on to the crazy. As you can imagine the bolt trick didn't work. Everyone was laughing and there was more talking and discussing and rational thinking. Then came the irrational, from what I could gather.

Bong was clearly pulling his leg, although again, I have next to no idea what they are saying.  All I got was Bong saying, "FIRST GEAR!" I was rolling!  A voice activated shifter?!  This guy is genius!  And as I said, this fourth year is not stupid.  He shook his head and continued his search.

High, low, above, and beyond. He was flummoxed. Finally he shrugs his shoulders and shouts, "FOURTH GEAR!" And we all laughed so hard our sides hurt---even our wounded warrior, she was tough!

Bong, was right, it was a great Valentine's Day...we both had sooo many dates!

Fahrenheight

First let me say, these kids ROCK! Don't tell them but if they come over and start entering our races, they would so kick our butts! These are the fourth year students of Baclayon High School who received OUR old bikes from the DC area.

Yeah, those bikes. The ones we throw away, say don't work, and complain about the color. Well, these kids are rocking the pedals of those old 'junk' bikes. Through bogs of mud and rock gardens that put Gambrill to shame. The hills are sooo steeep...how steep are they?

I have no idea. I'm having trouble with the conversions over here. They keep telling me these kids receive bikes based on their distances from school.  They are given the bikes to help their commutes and ultimately keep them in school. This is a darn good thing because they keep telling me the distances are 3-5k.

Back in the States I thought that was about half the distance we usually measure things.  Like a Century ride is 100 miles, but you can do a Metric Century that is around the 60 mile range (100k). Well, I'm pretty certain it's the opposite here. When they say 5k they really mean something between 10-15 miles.  It HAS to be. It's definitely not 1.5 miles!  I am dying on these rides. (and I don't want to hear it's my age)

Meanwhile here comes G on his brand new old BMX bike (read ONE GEAR) flying past me up the hill. There I am on my borrowed Voodoo with 27 sweet gears, I ain't too proud to drop it into granny, and he pedals right past me like it's Highway 10.

It's not their fault. This is life in the Philippines. Where the people are shorter and the steps are steeper. The temperature is measured in Celsius and converts to really f*#%ing hot. I'm telling you  it doesn't compute. And don't even think about setting a time for a meeting. They're gonna be late. That's why they have cell phones. Oh, and let's not forget my 15 minutes of fame was probably closer to 15 hours. And it's all used up, thank you very much.

They blame the traffic, which believe it or not, in Manila is about 4 times worse than DC.  10 minutes easily become 30 or 40. Clearly, Verizon is run by Filipinos. Imagine sitting here waiting for a contractor to arrive...sometimes they show up tomorrow.

Super Sunday

Sometimes life just works. I mean I'm not one to turn away from a challenge.  I typically run headstrong into them. But bushwhacking is tiring and not always rewarding.

City riding is also fun but challenging. Your mind is consumed by everything around you, aggressive driving, absent signals, swinging doors... One errant thought and you're kissing pavement.

But every now and again, life throws you your own bike lane. A place to slow down, take in the sights, breathe in the air, watch a sailboat float across the water. A momentary reprieve from the hectic world of life.

It's a nice place to be. This Bike Lane. I do so enjoy it.  I need more of this Bike Lane. I could really get used to it.

Semantics

Careful what you wish for. I hate to keep harping on the door incident, but I bumped my head, consider it a skip in the record. Going through the door is not exactly what you meant to say I'm guessing.  And perhaps maybe rethinking this bumper sticker, also necessary.

Define girlfriend. Define dirty. How dirty IS your bike? I'm just saying you might get more than you bargained for. Trust me.

Today I went to the bank. To speak to someone about my account.  See, they have these people, who sit at desks, away from the counter, that work for the bank, I thought they were there to help.

"Did you need help with something?" See, I told you, there to help.  I stated my issue, my concern, and they said, "just dial the number on the back of your card". The one that says 'customer service' I say? Meanwhile thinking, WHAT is it THESE folks do at the bank all day?

Is this like sending an associate to an event to have them stand at a display and when people come up and ask for more information, they say....say it with me....Just Go To The Website.  I love that one.

Pee Careful

People always warn you about doing certain things alone.  "It's not safe!" they scream.  Camping, hiking, biking....but the thing is if you sit around waiting for someone to play with you get old waiting.

Here's the other thing...people never warn you about other things, like stepping off a curb, getting in an elevator, or peeing alone.  In fact they even create little stalls to keep the other people out, for example, while peeing.

And would you rather get hurt freestylin' down a singletrack mountain bike trail or relieving yourself in a public restroom?  How'd I get this scar?  Well, that one I got when the locker room stall exploded like a transformer onto my head.  Mmmm....lacking a little je nais se quoi, no?

Besides, I'm careful.  When I ride solo, I ride cautious.  I don't go all out.  True, today was a little harder riding hurt AND solo, but when your friends are all at work what can you do?  Yes, the doctor earned his degree...I AM hurt.

My fingers are dragging.  Good news is driving is harder than riding because of the position of my elbow.  However, braking...problematic, on the bike that is.  You see, I brake with two fingers while holding on for dear life with the other two.  Those other two...somewhat unresponsive. C'est la vie.

Did Someone Say Grace?

It was, in one word, amazing.  What once was lost, now is found.  Twice in the same day!

While on vacation, my mother lost her car keys.  On a trail. While hiking.  If you ask her, it was my fault.  You see I was on another trail with a busted chain and I made the mistake of calling her so she wouldn't worry.  My mistake.

Her version from here goes like this:  I called.  She pulled out her phone like a rabbit out of a hat TADA!  And she says this must have been when her keys made their daring escape.  Hurtling amongst the woods, foliage, and wildlife.

Like a needle in a haystack.  She says, but a key is much bigger than a needle.  To which I responded, yes, and the WOODS much, much bigger than a haystack!

Meanwhile in the city....an out of towner experiences a parallel universe.  Well, it wasn't her keys, but a license.  And the woods were cars, the wildlife people, and the foliage...well that was still foliage.  And my chain...fully in tact, thank god.

And I rolled up on her license and threw it in my pocket.  This wasn't my first ever find but the easiest reunion I ever made.  Consult facebook.  Match name and picture to license.  Confirm hometown.  BINGO...it's a match!  Send message.  License and owner reunited.

Back in the woods....Ranger Nick was making the rounds. And you'll never guess what was found... Now my mom says her keys must have been stolen by a cheeky chipmunk.  See, it's never her fault.  Still, in her defense, those chipmunks were a bit unruly. 

Whilst I was reading one afternoon, one jumped right up on my arm and stared me in the eye.  It may very well have been the same one that kept jumping in my crate and chirping around my digs.  These crazy critters were worse than a cat cruising an ice cream bowl.

But like the one staring me down on the edge of my sleeve, they wanted food, not keys. I can't imagine why they'd shove a key to a Toyota in their expandable cheek.  Unless....do you think they knew it was stashed with food?

The Core of the Problem

Welcome to DC’s only CycloX race. We have no BMX tracks, no pump courses, no mountain bike trails, incomplete bike paths, and ONE CCX race. Do you really want to ask WHY we ride on the road?

Chris Core is constantly on the attack for why cyclists ride on the road, “when there is a perfectly good trail RIGHT there”. Now I’ve met Core, he’s a nice guy. We even had a nice long chat about bikes on the road. Most of what he says is reasonable.

Most. Some of what he says is ridiculous. Take his Share the Road, Share the Rules rant. He wants cyclists to behave like every other vehicle on the road. Well, I wish we could. But until EVERY vehicle on the road treats EVERY vehicle on the road equally that’s just not in my best interest.

He also believes we should wait our turn at a traffic light. Meaning, if there is a line of cars at a light we, as cyclists, should not proceed to the front of the line. Here’s the obvious issues with that…you push me all the way right on the road and then take it away at the light? Why shouldn’t I proceed in ‘my lane’ if no one else is in it? I will respect your turn signal if and when you use it.

Even if I arrive first at a light, cars don’t respect the fact that I am standing there. I have been honked at, cussed out, cut off, turned into, and even hit while waiting for the light. If we are treated equally and I am in front NO vehicle should be allowed to turn right on red IN FRONT OF ME. That would be like making a right on red from the left hand lane in front of other cars…it’s not legal. But perfectly okay, if said vehicle is a bike.

Lights are not timed for me. I cannot trip the sensor on some lights. I am not yielded the right of way at four way stop. I am afraid when I enter circles, pass by on/off ramps, travel some high volume roads.

I am cut off by buses, taxis, and drivers turning right. I am pulled out in front of. Pedestrians step out in front of me. Parkers open doors into me. Drivers park in my lane. There is debris on the shoulder. The trails are unplowed.

I am unprotected by a thick coating of metaled armor. Preyed upon on poorly designed trails. I am refused service in drive thrus. My speed is misjudged and drivers continue to make poor decisions that affect me.

Sometimes I choose to ride on the road and sometimes I have no choice but to. No matter which, I always have a right to ride on the road. And let’s be honest, we all break the law, riders and drivers alike.  But believe me, when I do it's for the sake of my safety not to spite it.