Bi-Kurious

I knew it would happen.  She is my bike after all.  Not that there's anything wrong with it.  And not that she has to choose.  I'm quite happy to enjoy her either way, said the winking bi-cyclist.

All it took was a new pair of tires and now she wants to be a cross dresser. My hybrid wants to be a cyclocross.  There, I said it.  It's not so bad.  It's actually kind of fun.  I rode it today.  700.  35.  Knobby tires.  Oh yeah, I rode her today.  And boy was it fun!

I was like a 10 year old on a brand new bike.  She's always been my favorite bike, but our relationship has been a bit stale the past year.  These new shoes with their beefy rubber...fun, fun, fun.  I really am that easy to please.  Grinning ear to ear in my mud colored glasses.

I'm no where near race ready, nor interested, really.  But if I got stronger I could throw the old road cassette back on this baby and have a real Xbike at the low low cost of $80!  Since I don't like a drop bar I'm 3/4 of the way there!

Imagine it.  Me and RF neck and neck racing for the finish.  She, on her new Cross, me on my 'Brid.  Going...for...broke...on...the...final....s..t..r..e..t..c..h... Me...Rach...Me...Rach...who's it gonna.....be......who's gonna take last place this time...??

What a Rip Off

The good news is she stopped.  And she didn't give me a thumbs up, but then I did nothing to deserve it this time.  I was sitting there at the red light minding my own business with my foot on the brake.  And then it hit me.

The other car that is.  And here's the thing you already know, insurance is a scam....and so are the people on the receiving end.  And here we are in the middle, the victims, sacrificing our time, our life, our money to support these two monsters controlling our crumpled lives.

I'm just going to say this...I don't care if anyone knows I'm driving a Honda...if they can't see that they are blind (which maybe, they shouldn't even be on the road then, I'm just saying).  I really don't care if they know it's an EX, I'd rather they not to be honest.  What I do want, is to advertise my interests...climbing, riding, a political affiliation, a favorite vacation spot....It's MY bumper, MY prime advertising space.

But after the accident who is going to replace those bumper stickers?  Not the insurance company I'll tell you that.  And WHY the hell not I ask you?  They will have been damaged as a result of the accident, for which I bear no fault, and should by all means be covered by the policy.  Really, what are we talking, 5-15 bucks tops?

You know what is covered?  Honda.  Civic. Ex.  $20. $20. $20. I. Kid. You. Not. That's not including the labor to reaffix them to the repaired trunk. We're talking $100 bucks to replace corporate advertising to MY space.  Shoot, I could use a Sharpie to replace that.  On second thought, shouldn't THEY be paying ME?

All Lit Up For the Holidays

Merry Christmas

Me and My Shadow

Daddy Look!

It's a girl!  She's insane!  That's SUPER Man!

Yes, my new and improved Santa Helmet is....well, awesome.  It's a little on the top heavy side.  Not exactly aerodynamic.  I am a bit of a reverse bobble head, especially in wind.  Definitely give me all 3 feet.

There are smiles, giggles, honks, but most importantly traffic does STOP.  I mean you could buy lights and batteries and hope OR you could grab one of these babies and know.  They WILL see you!

And I have been called a bit of a Grinch this Christmas.  See, it's him not me!  But if you are going to spend a holiday alone, you might as well spend it with your shadow.  Always there (even at night in a city!), dependable, consistant, attentive...and if he's as fun as mine....!! 

So Santa if you are listening, I'd love a best friend to fall in love with.  To laugh, to cry, to listen, to talk, to compromise, to RIDE, to share the holiday and every day...but if that's too much to ask, maybe less wind on my commute?  You don't even need to stop by the house, I didn't make cookies and I'm out of beer.  GRINCH!

What's Black and White and Read All Over?

There is something to be said about good old fashioned news...as in paper, newspaper.  Not to mention the handy little bag it comes in every morning, the challenging crossword, and various biased reports from around the globe masquerading as fair and balanced...but there is the newspaper itself.

You've heard the rumors.  Sterile....well, not exactly...but it does work great to clean windows, protect ice cream, insulate clothing, make paper hats.  WHAT ABOUT PAPER MACHE!?!?  Have you ever tried to make some indiscernible object out of an e-mag??  And what about that paste....what will our youth of tomorrow stick in their mouths and attempt to digest when we walk out of the room for two seconds?

It's not ALL good that we've thrown newspapers to the wayside.  Take last night for example.  I went out for a delightful dinner, stunning conversation, bouts of joy and laughter....unbeknownst to me outside it was pouring.  And I'm not saying it's a bad night when a date ends wet, but....it's better with protection, right?  And it wasn't that kind of date, if you know what I mean.

So I got wet.  Pants, shoes, bag...surprisingly NOT my hair, go figure.  But when you ride every day- wet anything is not good, especially in winter.  Enter the newspaper.  Perfect for stuffing wet shoes...alas, not a page of paper in the joint! 

In a pinch, I tried stuffing my mouse in there, but as you can imagine it didn't help.  Thank god for hairdryers.  And the seat....well, let's just say, it's good to have a spare.

Midday Fallies

And you thought riding through the city was dangerous and challenging...Have you ever tried circumnavigating a strip mall parking lot three days before Christmas?  It's worth the prime parking spot however!

And yet, it was the trail that put me on my ass.  Like a sheet of ice on a super slick tire....leaves, mud, you name it...it's why they call it FALL.  Not once.  Not twice. But THREE times I almost fell.

And there I was checking out some Xtires at the REI.  Nothing against REI, but it's not the place I expected to be looking at Xtires, alas online shopping is often challenging. And there just happened to be a sweet set locked to the same bike rack.  So I measured, and checked it twice...I wanted naughty AND nice.  Something with some teeth, but still manageable...You know a little winter grip...come to think of it that fender may have to go.

The thing about brick and mortars are you get it NOW, which is apparently exactly when I needed said tires.  If third time's a charm, fourth time's some harm.  Yes, indeedydoo I put her down on the fourth tricky pass.  I put her down hard.  My own little version of the ditty, Hit the Deck Falls.

At the time I thought all was well, I mean there arose some clatter, but nothing amiss.  I worked, the bike worked....up, up, and away...but time would bring visions of black and blue plums on my head.  Okay, that was holiday licensing.  It was really my thigh. And my ribs. And my shoulder....Bah Humbugger!

PO, PO, PO

Man, times are tight.  I can remember the days when Santa came to your house.  Sleigh, reindeer, the works.  Now apparently he has the mail carriers leave 'we missed you' slips at the door.

Really?  At. The. Door?  I finally have a working chimney and no red felted fat man is squeezing through it?  But I had it cleaned!  I'm making cookies.  There is beer.  There is always beer.

Come to think of it I don't remember ANY chimneys in the old trailer park.  How exactly did I expect Santa to get those toys under the tree every year?  Then we moved to a house with a chimney but no fire place.  WHAT, Santa is STUCK in the interior of the house?  Start chipping at the drywall! Well, who would put a fake chimney on top of a house anyway??

I was a little worried about picking up an undisclosed package at the post office.  And this, the busiest day of the year.  It was certainly not high on my WANT TO DO LIST.  But the least he could do was give me some idea of dimensions...I do ride a bike after all. 

I realize you have a big sleigh...or perhaps a UPS truck I'm thinking....but all I have is a handlebar.  "Bigger than a breadbox." "Heavier than a bowling ball."  You don't have to ruin the surprise, but can a girl get a hint?!  The slip of paper didn't play the Lexus ditty so at least I knew it wasn't a car.  Do you know anyone who has ever gotten one of those big red bowed cars??

There was a sigh of relief when the postmaster brought this.  There could have been an early Christmas at the Woodmoor Post Office.  But really Santa?  It's not like you have to worry about high gas prices!!  Bring back home delivery!

 

 



Say Llama Calcetines

Yikes!  There is a Snuffleupagus in my bike shoes! And here I thought I didn't have room for a second pair of socks!  I stand corrected...and WARM.

They are actually Alpacas.  And FYI these creatures are a bit like Gremlins...or more accurately Mogwai with a slight twist.  You can get these babies wet...just don't put them in the dryer.  I'm talking clothing products here, but I wouldn't recommend putting an acutal Alpaca in a dryer either.  It would have to be a commercial dryer and I still wouldn't recommend it.

But that's how I got these socks.  My grandparents felted them.  That means they now stand up on their own and good luck passing your toes through the ankle.  But on the flip side now they are smaller and fit in my shoes...I just have to take my feet off first.  Okay, so my toes don't get cold on the way home Perfect.  Truly a win, win, win.

I've got another pair I sleep in.  OH. MY. GOD. That's all I'm gonna say.

Coming Clean

The truth is I'm stuck.  I've been stuck for a chocolate box of years now.  Gump was right, You Never Know Whatchur Gonna Git.

It's just like that.  I've been picking out sweet treats for the better part of a decade only to bite into them bitterly disappointed and then toss them back into the box.  I've got a case of gnawed off desserts and a hunger for something more.

I guess the key is not to be fooled by the chocolate covered outside.  It's what's on the inside that matters. It all looks so good on the exterior but the surprise inside...you know what I'm saying.  We've all confidently chewed into that little square delight only to find strawberry coconut nougat when we really wanted caramel. 

Take fruit cake.  Who really likes these things?  It's the season of giving, however. Giftee Beware. You take all your rotten cores and disguise them with  fluffy white cake hoping no one will notice.  The problem with tiny chocolates is A) they are irresistible and B) you can't slice them open to find what you have before committing.

Fair enough.  Since it's always about the bike....I'll keep my single speed thank you very much.  I have one gear, it always works, I know what I'm going to have to put in, and I know what I'm going to get out.  You can keep your 21 speed where certain combinations don't work, a sliver of crumpled leaf can throw a chain, and the constant upkeep is overly demanding.  That relationship is too high maintenance  for me.

Simple is as simple does.   I don't want gears I don't really need.  You might have to work harder but there's no need carrying around excessive baggage for a one or two time use.  I'm ready to get unstuck; it's time to pull that stick out of my spokes and really get moving!  Besides, spoke cards work much better than wood...even with a bamboo frame.

Dude, Where's My...Seriously

Unfortunately I like sketchy photographs...graffiti, boarded up buildings, broken windows.  It's not the ideal place to wander around.  With an expensive camera around your neck.  Alone.

But given my recent lack of fear I wandered down the back alleys of Baltimore searching for subjects.  It occurred to me at some point this wasn't the time or place to be artistic.
When you are in these situations alone...eyeball in a viewfinder, focused on a meter and light and Fstops and such it's hard to be aware of your surroundings.  Shutter speed and focus ought to be left to the camera.  Point, shoot, or get shot.

But here's where it takes a turn for the worse.  I lost my car.  I'm not saying it was stolen.  I'm saying I lost it.  I rode down too many alleys, in too many circles; I was like a toddler who just spun himself silly.  I had no idea where I parked it. 

I remembered intersection A and intersection B and they were within two blocks of each other.  I circled this same area upwards of 10 times.  Several Civics. None with bike racks.  More importantly, none that were mine.  Must. leave. bread. crumbs....or...dumb ass, use your camera to take a picture before you go wandering off like a child.

There was a good possibility I parked it on a main road and it was almost 3pm.  Yes, I was actually hoping my car would be towed.  Then I'd be able to find it!  My friend wanted to help, but I had nothing to offer.  Yeah, I parked it next to a....a curb.  Underneath a....a tree.  Beside a.....a parking sign.  Anything like that you've seen in the city?

Finally I stopped trying to remember and decided to think.  I worked my way backwards from Intersections A and B.  See I thought I had driven through Intersection A and ridden through B.  Putting C (the car) between these two points.  It seems I had been on bike through both Intersections A AND B...indeed NOW I remember.  C is precisely....YES, there's my car!

I Should Have Got a Pink Flamingo

Here's a little update on my car. So you know it wouldn't start the other day.  Turns out it was the distributor.  Also turns out this is a $700 fix.  Ouch.  Well, I broke even, go figure.  My back pay comes in...right around this figure.  And I turn around and hand it over to the mechanic.

When I get the estimate, which changes by the way, I call my dad and say, really?  Really, should a distributor cost that much?  To which he responds, "do you want your car back?"  Fair enough.  I was in a pickleroo.  It was after all DITD (dead in the driveway).

Stepping back a few days can I just tell you when I walked into the garage there was a dude standing in there.  Just hanging out.  I couldn't tell if he worked there or if he was waiting on his car or what.  Mind you I just called to say my car was OTW.  Now, outside my car is being dewinched off the back of a tow truck that has monopolized the entire gas station.  And this guy looks at me and says, do you need something?

So fast forward to now.  Car's all fixed.  New tires, new spark plugs, new muffler, and now newish distributor (yeah, I think that price was for a used part!)  Obviously I've made a commitment to this car this year.  And why not?  It's a Civic.  Even the tow dude said, yeah, that's a great car; lasts forever!

Define forever.

Today I finally found a replacement battery for my clicker.  It's only been about a month.  Everywhere I went that particular battery was sold out.  One kid at the Lowes tried to sell me another number.  "I know the number doesn't match but that's cuz there's two of them in the package."  Really?  That's okay Baby I'll wait, stay in school, study hard, learn a trade.

You won't believe this.  It's not the battery.  Ah....that would explain why both clickers died at the exact same time.  I believe it might be the receiver in the car.  Perfect.  So now the car runs great, but the locks don't work, the volume button on the radio is jacked, the windows might go back up if you put them down, and I'm afraid to put anything of value in the CD player.  Oh, and biker beware if you mount your steed on top of my vehicle; it melts forks for fun.

Have I mentioned I don't even use my car?  So yeah, I just spent $740 on an ugly piece of rusted lawn art.  I would have been better off to leave it sit, save $700 bucks, and buy $40 worth of lights to decorate the damn thing.

Merry Crossing

What flies through the air, is puffy and round, and red all over?  Mustn't be Santa.  But it might be a distracted holiday shopper flying through town in a red mini cooper.  WATCH OUT!

Have you ever been driving down the street and seen a pedestrian on the side of the road standing in or around a clearly marked crosswalk?  And you know the law is to stop, but you hesitate, thinking, if you wave this person on and the other speeding traffic doesn't stop....well, indirectly you may be responsible for killing some poor schmo?

Yeah, my day was like that. There I was at the newly designed intersection, you know the one, over on Little Falls.  Zig-zag trail, paint, signs, sign....to make the passage safer. And there I was obeying the law like all the drivers want...waiting my turn, in the crosswalk, stopping in the center...

You know this intersection right?  The trail is five inches from the red light.  And yet cars manage to careen around that 90 degree turn and accelerate into 45 mph neglecting the speed signs, trail signs, pedestrian and bike signs, and striped crosswalk.  Clearly it's the bikes causing the problems.

Like when I stopped in the center face to face with a black SUV.  Who stopped.  And waved me on.  Into the intersection.  Onto my death.  See, I didn't trust the teeny red car I saw duck behind the SUV so I hesitated at this front passenger bumper...

I had a front row view to what death looks like right before it  hits.  And all I could do was stare at both bumpers.  I wanted to see the driver's face.  I wanted to turn around to see the horror in the SUV's face.  But all I saw was my front wheel and two steel bumpers.  I missed the whole thing. 

I guess I had to.  Since I was already paused in my track stand waiting for it to happen there wasn't much to do except, well, actually turn my wheel to avoid the collision.  Yep, it was that close. She hit the crosswalk at a good clip, caught sight of me, panicked, and slammed on the brakes.  There was a momentary loss of control as her car skidded even closer and then the hands that flew up as a sort of surrender...like, "I know that was my fault I'm so so sorry"

It was a bit like my dream.  The one where I die.  Since I've had that dream I've had two of these unbelievable close calls.  The first the pedestrians on the sidewalk screeched in horror and I'm sure this one brought on adrenaline rushes across the street.  Neither one did a thing to me.  No, that was close, no heavy breath, no missed heart beats.  Just, ho hum, here we go again...

Paint that's Red
Almost dead
Crosswalk White
Fight or Flight
Wasn't Santa, Wasn't Santa

Tirony

So the mechanic says, what's it doing?  Me:  it's not printing.

It all started yesterday.  That's when my printer and my laptop started this ugly feud. First the printer wasn't speaking to the computer.  Then the computer stopped talking to the printer. They both worked fine just not together.

I gave them a moment to think about the ink. But the computer thinks it's just fine on its own as does the printer.  It was a tennis match of it's-not-me-it's-you and we were stuck in deuce hell. Those independent all-in-ones are difficult to deal with you know. And computers, well, they would just rather get the latest, greatest model and be done with it. Who wouldn't?

So today I gave in.  Clearly if these two couldn't get along and communicate the relationship was over.  I don't have time to deal with the bickering. ERROR ! X ! Fine.  The printer would take custody of the ink and the computer was welcome to stay.  I would find it another colored partner (can we say that?)

But here's where it gets complicated.  Apparently the car sided with the printer. So when I introduced the key to the car the Civic stuck out its tongue and said ppttthhbb.  It did, it sounded just like that. ppttthhbb  Huh.  So how do I get a printer home now?  I wasn't really looking for a fits-in-my-backpack-variety printer.

So I call AAA.  I'm fairly certain it's not the battery...everything seems to work fine in the car; I know it sounds like the printer.  Really, WHAT is going on?!  Back on the phone, maneuvering through the automated menu proves too much for the phone and it dies.

I finally get confirmation that it's not the car battery and the tow truck comes.  My shop went out of business so I'm heading to a gas station. I throw a bike in the car and hitch a ride with my tow.  That is AFTER, I find a bike with two air filled tires.  YES, that too.  How's that for funny?

More Signs

It was that kind of day.

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.

The Nerve

So the bike did fine today, finally.  I even drove the crank into a rock and she stayed solid.  The rider...not so much.  My crank is a bit tingly, but you probably already knew that, it's not new.

What's new is the diagnoses.  Yes, my work injury RSVPed diagnosis plus one.  I'm sorry doc what? Triangular Fibrocartilage Complex AND Ulnar Nerve Entrapment?  From a bathroom door?  You know I've always seen those women who use a paper towel to open the door...I. Had. No. Idea.

He's good.  I wanted to talk about my right wrist.  The cracking concerned me.  Yeah, yeah and tingling in the left hand.  Can we get back to the right wrist?  He threw big words at me to shut me up.  I said, huh, that sounds bigger than the culprit.  He said, you're no dummy.

Now tell me about the left hand...Does it hurt when I do this?  This?  How bout this?  No.  But will my wrist lock when it pops like that?  Clearly, I'm still obsessed with the wrong extremity.  He points out that he's way more concerned about the left.  Yeah, that's what everyone says.

He tries a few party tricks with me.  Cute.  He causes my arm to go weak.  Neat.  Tingly.  Wow.  Numb.  Cool.  Can you stop please? I never mentioned the funny bone theory, he found it all on his own.  Told me, that's what he's trained to do.  He's no dummy either.

Really?  Really, really?  I'm really hurt?  I might not need surgery? Whoa, slow your roll there doc. This was just a check in; there was nothing really wrong.  I feel fine. See, fine. It was just a door!

So to recap....I've got Carpool Tunnel in my elbow.  I don't even drive a car! Oh, and some torn cartilage in my wrist.  From a bathroom door.  But the bike is fine. And I am officially scared of public restrooms now.  Thanks.

Left Humerus

There I was doing my business...relax, relax, they aren't bullet holes.  And I wasn't shot, but I was injured.  Now where was I...

Right, there I was with my drawers in one hand and a door in the other.  It's not often you come out of a public restroom with your underpants in your hand, but it's even rarer that you come out with the door on your head either.

That's right!  The door was in my hand and not in the I'm-going-to-exit-the-stall-now kind of way.  More like don't-let-this-freaking-heavy-door-land-on-my-head-neck-or-toe kind of way.  I'm not entirely sure how, but I sort of  'caught' the door and 'placed' it on the floor.  All while standing there in my underpants!

Makes a girl think about wearing long pants to and from the actual locker in the locker room when visiting the wash closet.  Imagine getting knocked out by a stall door and having your boss come in while you're lying there out cold in your panties on the nasty bathroom floor.  But then, who expects to get attacked by  a stall door anyway.  Could scare the shit out of you....sorry couldn't resist.

But this is truly no laughing matter.  And you can clearly see, the hinges are still in tact.  This wasn't me pulling the door off the hinges, the damn anchors came clear out the wall!  So this was the door AND frame crashing in on me as I was exiting the bathroom, yes, yes, IN my underpants!

And it still hurts.  There is some tingling in my upper arm and hand.  I've got some pain in a couple fingers when I grasp something in a certain way.  Nurse Judy says tingling ain't good. But I don't think it's that bad.

There's just this spot on your elbow, you know the one, it drives the ill-named funny bone...it's a bit sore.  When you push on it, as is normal, it causes a pins and needles sensation down your arm.  Well, that, is on steroids! It's more like pitons and railroad spikes.

The ride home was a tad uncomfortable.  My arm was tired and sore.  Tweaking and twisting a handicapped stall-sized door is no easy feat.  But a girl's gotta get home.  Where it's SAFE to pee in private. Phalanges still tingling...

PS....HAPPY BIRTHDAY DR J! (from me and Nurse Judy)

To Tell the Truth

Who am I to argue with God?

Fool Marathons

Winning Tshirt of the day:  Running Sucks.  Runner Up (so to speak):  I don't do marathons, but I do do marathon runners.

It was nice to get back on the bike for the annual MCM this year.  For the past several I've been running my own personal mini marathon.  And yes, I do get a medal for it.

Chasing Marathon Bob around the course on foot is beyond my athletic ability.  Riding with him by bike is almost beyond my athletic ability.  Oh, I wish I was exaggerating.

I must say, I've become a huge fan of riding marathons.  Not a typo, riding, was intentional.  Running them, not so much.  I gave it a go...once.  That was enough.  Since then, my body rules.

See, turns out we had a conflict of interest, me and my body.  I thought I wanted to run 26.2 miles.  It knew it didn't want to.  I was clearly out of my mind, but unfortunately there's no out of my body. And for that one very long day, very long, we agreed to disagree.

Since then we have come to a mutual compromise.  I'm allowed to run HALF marathons, but FULL marathons must be done by bike.  We couldn't be happier.  Me and my body and my bike!  Closed roads, no traffic, inspiration around every corner, NO entry fee.

Helmets off to those who try.  Especially those, like me, who spend the day pounding the pavement...Five plus hours, running more miles than many people can bike!  Think about it.  A 25 mile bike ride for many is unimaginable. And these folks are running it!  Cue the tears....

Pure Ecstasy

This morning I woke to the most amazing 40 minutes in bed.  Eventually that is.  I even gave up my morning commute to draw it out just 20 minutes more.  I thought about it all day hoping to pick up tonight where we left off.

But I don't really feel like drinking again tonight. Not that it was that much, but apparently it was enough.  And it's not like I didn't consider the consequences; I passed out clutching a bottle of Gatorade.

I know the importance of hydrating throughout the night.  Dehydration is a bitch, like detoxing the toxin. But I only had two beers.  Two.  Okay, twoish beers and twoish near beers. That's not really four. No cause for alarm.

But a friend told me later you have to alternate. Beer, water, beer, water. You can't just catch up mid-night. I thought that's what I did? Near beer, as you well know, comes with a water chaser, right there in the same glass! But I still chugged the gator as I slept, just in case.

Didn't work.  Still woke fitful and tossing as the headache engulfed my vice. Fine.  I slugged myself downstairs and grabbed the magic elixir.  The amen in a bottle.  The pill in my pillow. And oh what a pillow it was. I can still feel it pulled close nuzzling against my groggy face.

The Excedrin did its job; did it real good. It washed out the ache like a tide pulling back to sea. In 10 seconds flat.  Like Percocet with an E. Just five more minutes....prrrrrrrr

Tightening the Belt

My Giant bill is turning into, well, a GIANT BILL. And extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures.  I hate to say it, but I might have to stop biking. There, I said it.

I just can't keep up.  Feeding my 'engine' just got expensive again. What once was gas now comes in a plain brown paper bag (and btw we are going to be paying for that soon too!)

In the beginning I had hefty start up costs for sure...gear, bags, lights, bike bling...it was expensive. Eventually, however, commuting by bike made me money.  My insurance rates dropped, I never went to a gas station, and I hadn't seen the inside of a Jiffy Lube in a lot longer than a jiffy. It was like a 5% raise, which unfortunately still left me 5% in the hole, but whatever....

But now I'm upside down like a well intended home owner in an unfair, mismanaged mortgage. My grocery bill is thiefing my wallet! I dread the necessary routine of watching the register roll faster than a gas pump.  And I just can't figure out how to exist without food. But if I rode less, I'd eat less, and bingo bango have more money.  My starving food bill trumps my gas budget like a cribbage Lurch.

THAT'S TOO MANY!

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.

Thems the Brakes

You are not going to believe this, but I can't make this stuff up!  On my second attempt at a mountain bike ride this October my bike turned up lame.

And again, I was out on the trail without the proper tool.  So I thought what the hell, I can't ride, how 'bout a game of Operation!?

Yeah, the childhood stresser a little like Perfection.  In Perfection you put odd shapes into teeny tiny holes.  In Operation you took odd shapes out of teeny tiny holes.  As a child I played with both.

Good thing cuz now I needed a little bit of both.  So I borrowed a friend's needle nose...I know, who brings needle noses (I think that should be needlenice right?) anyway, who brings pliers on a ride?  Smarter people than me that's who.

So I borrowed some pliers and went to work on my personal version of Cavity Sam.  Take the brake pads out.  Remove the spring I just learned all about from Patapsco Pete.  Bend, twist, flatten, bend, twist, squeeze. Place pads in spring.  Replace pads for rotor.  BUZZ.  BUZZ.  BUZZ. Minus the red light.

I was desperate.  I'm just really not good enough to be flying over Patapsco with only a front brake, you know?  Not interested in joining the OTB club. That's Over The Bar and it's not good. It usually ends in a broken collar bone.  They weren't odds I was willing to take.  I didn't want to become Cavity Sam.

Yes, I realize you shouldn't need to adjust brakes on a ride, but you might. You shouldn't really break a chain either, you know what I'm saying....? So if brakes aren't seated correctly and they jostle and twist, and you end up shredding metal and then bad things happen.

Shredding metal.  I like.  How was your ride?  Yeah, dude I was soo smokin the trail I was totally shredding metal....

Fun Bust

The Ford Giveth and The Ford Taketh Away.

Riding the high of last night's lane discovery, I was sideswiped at the bank.  Figuratively...literally would prove the money mongrels right.

For 6 months I've been taking the trail to the bank, going through the drive thru, and making deposits.  Without incident or accident.

Today my streak struck out.  Oh, they took my money, but then refused to serve me.  Ask the guy in the pickup.  In between hitting on me he noted the rudeness of the teller.  He asked about my socks.  Oh watch this, I'm about to go Alpha Bitch all over their Benjamins.

They said something about the use of a vehicle.  I looked down at mine and said, yeah, and?  Your point is what?

No Shit,

No Car:

No Service

Liability, my sweet biking ass!  You've got three relatively unused lanes and a parking lot spilling into the trail.  Not to mention I ride in traffic.  The drive thru red tape is crap!  And if your business abuts a bike trail I think it should be a law that your establishment is bike friendly.

You can take that to the bank!  Just leave your bike at home.  Next time I'm saying it's a scooter. SunTrust.  Kemp Mill. Lamberton Drive.  Silver Spring.  Biker Beware.