On my ride home today, a drop dead, gorgeous blonde, riding a bike, pulled out of a side street some 100 yards in front of me and proceeded in the same direction as myself. She was wearing a tightly fitting, white, sport's bra and black lycra shorts. Her arms, abs and legs were well toned and tanned. Her long blonde hair was tied in a pony tail that swung provocatively to and fro.
Instinctively, I reached down and switched to a harder gear, put my hands in the middle of my North Road handlebars, tucked down low and tight and increased the urgency of my pedaling. All in a concerted attempt to overtake her so that:
a. I might get a better view.
b. She might have the pleasure of lusting at my muscular glutes as I pedaled away.
Over the course of the next quarter mile, I slowly, but steadily gained on her. The distance between us had been cut in half when I reached a crossroads, both literally and figuratively. She was quickly approaching the road upon which I normally turned on my commute home. With every fiber of my masculinity, I longed for her to turn. Imagine my disappointment when she kept going straight. What happened next haunts me more than my feeble grasp of the English language can do justice.
First - As I traversed the next 50 yards I wrestled with what to do. Should I turn and head home or should I go straight? I couldn't believe it. Here I was 50 yards behind the girl of my dreams. At my current speed I was sure to overtake her in the next quarter mile. Yet, I was actually wrestling about what to do. That kind of dilemma is akin to jumping into a lake and debating whether to sink or swim. There's no internal struggle - you instinctively swim for God's sake. There was a time, in what I hope is the not to distant past, that I would have chased this chick around the globe. Yet now, I find myself wrestling with whether to venture from my normal route for but a mere quarter mile.
Secondly - I reached down and switched to an easier gear, grabbed the grips of my North Road handlebars, sat up straight, eased my pedaling cadence and then - oh the shame - I turned!
Showing posts with label Light Roadster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Light Roadster. Show all posts
Monday, June 28, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Intentional Endangerment
While I may not like it, I've come to accept the unfortunate fact that if I'm gonna commute to work via a bicycle; well, then I'm gonna have to contend with near misses.
I was cruising down the main thoroughfare to my place of employment. I have perfected my route over the years so as to avoid said thoroughfare to the maximum extent practicable. The operative words in that sentence are "maximum extent practicable". Unfortunately, there is no convenient way to get to work without venturing upon this thoroughfare, even if briefly. For me that's about a 1/4 mile section, along which residents parallel park on the street. This leaves 3 lanes for the moving traffic.
I have commuted long enough and read enough blog entries to beware of the dreaded "door zone", that 3 to 4 foot area adjacent to parallel parked cars where, were an occupant to open their door, there would not be sufficient room for cyclist and automobile door to occupy the same space simultaneously. The result, cyclist runs into door at 18 miles an hour and is thrown into traffic where they are summarily run over or the cyclist takes evasive maneuvers and instinctively swerves into traffic where they are summarily run over. As my astute readers can tell, the result of both options is the cyclist is "summarily run over".
To avoid said fate, I avoid door zones at all cost, which means that I ride far enough into the lane to essentially take over that lane and force the following cars to change lanes and go around. I don't see this as being particularly taxing on the drivers in that they have two other lanes to choose from. As minor as this inconvenience is to motorist, I try to minimize it further by watching in my mirror and timing my excursion into the lane so as to avoid hampering automobiles if at all possible.
I approached a parallel parked car and noted in my mirror that I had plenty of time to get by before the approaching automobile passed. I cleared the parallel parked car and respectively moved to the right, OUT of the lane of traffic. Imagine my horror when the automobile approaching behind buzzed by my at 40 mph with only inches to spare between my arm and it's mirror. In order for him to be that close, the driver had to have swerved out of the traffic lane and onto the shoulder of the road I occupied.
This encounter unnerved me more than words can express. I've grown accustomed to be yelled at, honked at, cut off, turned into and the like. All these encounters were largely the result of oblivious drivers who are not programmed to acknowledge my existence. This encounter though was completely different, This driver purposely went out of his way to swerve toward me in a sick, sadistic and reckless gesture that greatly endangered my life.
My dear readers, as you have no doubt surmised by now, I have been guilty in the past of slightly exaggerating the facts for literary effect. Let me assure you that in this encounter, I do not do justice to it's gravity.
I don't know what that reckless driver's motivation was. Whether he was wanting to scare me, was joking around or was angry. Frankly, I don't give a damn. The simple fact is, no matter his reason, he was in no way, shape or form, justified in using his 4000 lb SUV to threaten my well being.
The thing that really pisses me off is since that encounter is that I have found myself, more often than not, venturing on the sidewalk (legal in VA) in that particular section of my commute. I realize that an argument could be made that I am in essence giving that reckless driver exactly what he wants. While I do not fear death in the least, I am in no particular hurry to hasten it approach. I can't control other people's actions, only my own. I wish that automobiles and bikes could coexist amicably. The reality is that we (bikers and drivers alike) have a long ways to go to get to that nirvana. Until then, I'm going to keep riding, even if it means an excursion here and there on the sidewalk. Did I mention how much that pisses me off?
I was cruising down the main thoroughfare to my place of employment. I have perfected my route over the years so as to avoid said thoroughfare to the maximum extent practicable. The operative words in that sentence are "maximum extent practicable". Unfortunately, there is no convenient way to get to work without venturing upon this thoroughfare, even if briefly. For me that's about a 1/4 mile section, along which residents parallel park on the street. This leaves 3 lanes for the moving traffic.
I have commuted long enough and read enough blog entries to beware of the dreaded "door zone", that 3 to 4 foot area adjacent to parallel parked cars where, were an occupant to open their door, there would not be sufficient room for cyclist and automobile door to occupy the same space simultaneously. The result, cyclist runs into door at 18 miles an hour and is thrown into traffic where they are summarily run over or the cyclist takes evasive maneuvers and instinctively swerves into traffic where they are summarily run over. As my astute readers can tell, the result of both options is the cyclist is "summarily run over".
To avoid said fate, I avoid door zones at all cost, which means that I ride far enough into the lane to essentially take over that lane and force the following cars to change lanes and go around. I don't see this as being particularly taxing on the drivers in that they have two other lanes to choose from. As minor as this inconvenience is to motorist, I try to minimize it further by watching in my mirror and timing my excursion into the lane so as to avoid hampering automobiles if at all possible.
I approached a parallel parked car and noted in my mirror that I had plenty of time to get by before the approaching automobile passed. I cleared the parallel parked car and respectively moved to the right, OUT of the lane of traffic. Imagine my horror when the automobile approaching behind buzzed by my at 40 mph with only inches to spare between my arm and it's mirror. In order for him to be that close, the driver had to have swerved out of the traffic lane and onto the shoulder of the road I occupied.
This encounter unnerved me more than words can express. I've grown accustomed to be yelled at, honked at, cut off, turned into and the like. All these encounters were largely the result of oblivious drivers who are not programmed to acknowledge my existence. This encounter though was completely different, This driver purposely went out of his way to swerve toward me in a sick, sadistic and reckless gesture that greatly endangered my life.
My dear readers, as you have no doubt surmised by now, I have been guilty in the past of slightly exaggerating the facts for literary effect. Let me assure you that in this encounter, I do not do justice to it's gravity.
I don't know what that reckless driver's motivation was. Whether he was wanting to scare me, was joking around or was angry. Frankly, I don't give a damn. The simple fact is, no matter his reason, he was in no way, shape or form, justified in using his 4000 lb SUV to threaten my well being.
The thing that really pisses me off is since that encounter is that I have found myself, more often than not, venturing on the sidewalk (legal in VA) in that particular section of my commute. I realize that an argument could be made that I am in essence giving that reckless driver exactly what he wants. While I do not fear death in the least, I am in no particular hurry to hasten it approach. I can't control other people's actions, only my own. I wish that automobiles and bikes could coexist amicably. The reality is that we (bikers and drivers alike) have a long ways to go to get to that nirvana. Until then, I'm going to keep riding, even if it means an excursion here and there on the sidewalk. Did I mention how much that pisses me off?
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Dreamcatcher
On my ride home from work yesterday, I took a detour through Mariner's Museum Park. I stopped at one of my favorite, secluded spots in the park and sat on a picnic table to spend a little quiet time. No sooner did I sit down, when I noticed some 50 yards away, in the middle of a field, a drop dead gorgeous blonde, sitting on the ground. The operative word here is "blonde", which should come as no surprise to regular readers of this blog.
This young lady was busy working on a 2 foot diameter cylindrical object, shaped out of what appeared to be sticks. She was weaving something in and out, up and down, around and about this coarse, wooden frame.
I sat down for at least 40 minutes and not once did this young lady take a break from her task. She steadfastly bent over her creation, steadily weaving.
As I rode away, I steered in her direction and stopping nearby, inquired, "hello, I don't mean to intrude, but I was just curious, what are you sitting in the middle of this field making?"
She flashes me a beautiful, captivating smile and says, "Oh - it's a dreamcatcher, I've always heard about single plane ones, I thought it would be neat to make one with triple planes."
A "dreamcatcher", a traditional, American Indian ornament which, according to legend, is supposed to snare bad dreams in its web and only allow pleasant ones to pass through.
For those of you who traverse back and forth to work in your internally combustion powered, sheet metal cages, I have a simple question for you. "When was the last time, on your drive home, you happened upon a young, drop dead gorgeous blonde busily weaving a 3 plane dreamcatcher?" As you fumble for an affirmative response, one that will never come, I present to you yet another advantage of bike commuting.
This young lady was busy working on a 2 foot diameter cylindrical object, shaped out of what appeared to be sticks. She was weaving something in and out, up and down, around and about this coarse, wooden frame.
I sat down for at least 40 minutes and not once did this young lady take a break from her task. She steadfastly bent over her creation, steadily weaving.
As I rode away, I steered in her direction and stopping nearby, inquired, "hello, I don't mean to intrude, but I was just curious, what are you sitting in the middle of this field making?"
She flashes me a beautiful, captivating smile and says, "Oh - it's a dreamcatcher, I've always heard about single plane ones, I thought it would be neat to make one with triple planes."
A "dreamcatcher", a traditional, American Indian ornament which, according to legend, is supposed to snare bad dreams in its web and only allow pleasant ones to pass through.
For those of you who traverse back and forth to work in your internally combustion powered, sheet metal cages, I have a simple question for you. "When was the last time, on your drive home, you happened upon a young, drop dead gorgeous blonde busily weaving a 3 plane dreamcatcher?" As you fumble for an affirmative response, one that will never come, I present to you yet another advantage of bike commuting.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
There's No Such Thing as a Bad Bike Ride
"There's no such thing as a bad bike ride!" That's a quote I've been very fond of using when anyone asked me how my ride was. It was just my way of saying to folks that it doesn't matter if it's raining or shining, windy or still, freezing or scorching - if I'm on the bike, it is a good thing. It was my subtle way of suggesting that I'm made of tough stuff.
After my ride home yesterday afternoon, I have but two words for that flippant quote. It is one, great big, humongous, smelly pile of "BS".
After more than 20 years of serious bike riding, I finally experienced a bad, really bad, ride. I work for a large manufacturing company. As such, there are a lot of employees at the facility. At quitting time, the masses rush out the gates, jump in their cars and jostle for position. Typically, I avoid this fray by waiting at least a half hour before leaving work. Unfortunately yesterday, I had someplace I needed to be that necessitated my taking part in this maddening, rush hour dance. To make matters worse, a massive thunderstorm descended on the dance floor just as the music reached it's peak. I found myself slap dab in the middle of a Mosh Pit.
I will spare you the harrowing details of that ride. Suffice it to say, I was squeezed, cut off and almost run over more times in that 15 minute interval, than a person should endure in a lifetime. I arrived at my destination unharmed physically, but mentally and emotionally spent. My hands shook as I locked up my bike. I leaned against the light pole, breathed deeply and attempted to compose myself. If someone had approached me at that inopportune moment and asked my how was my ride, I would have stared at them in wide eyed wonderment and exclaimed, "IT F***ING SUCKS - I HATE IT!!!"
After my ride home yesterday afternoon, I have but two words for that flippant quote. It is one, great big, humongous, smelly pile of "BS".
After more than 20 years of serious bike riding, I finally experienced a bad, really bad, ride. I work for a large manufacturing company. As such, there are a lot of employees at the facility. At quitting time, the masses rush out the gates, jump in their cars and jostle for position. Typically, I avoid this fray by waiting at least a half hour before leaving work. Unfortunately yesterday, I had someplace I needed to be that necessitated my taking part in this maddening, rush hour dance. To make matters worse, a massive thunderstorm descended on the dance floor just as the music reached it's peak. I found myself slap dab in the middle of a Mosh Pit.
I will spare you the harrowing details of that ride. Suffice it to say, I was squeezed, cut off and almost run over more times in that 15 minute interval, than a person should endure in a lifetime. I arrived at my destination unharmed physically, but mentally and emotionally spent. My hands shook as I locked up my bike. I leaned against the light pole, breathed deeply and attempted to compose myself. If someone had approached me at that inopportune moment and asked my how was my ride, I would have stared at them in wide eyed wonderment and exclaimed, "IT F***ING SUCKS - I HATE IT!!!"
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Spring is in the Air
Monday morning, when I climbed on my bike and headed to work - the sun was well up in the sky and I needed not to reach for the lights.
Monday afternoon, when I climbed on my bike and headed home - the sun was well up in the sky and I needed not to reach for the lights.
That was a first for the year. Could it be that the long dark days of Winter are losing their grip to the emergence of Spring? Me thinky so!! Yea!!!
Monday afternoon, when I climbed on my bike and headed home - the sun was well up in the sky and I needed not to reach for the lights.
That was a first for the year. Could it be that the long dark days of Winter are losing their grip to the emergence of Spring? Me thinky so!! Yea!!!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Crescent Moon Companion
I rode home in the dark tonight. Something I seem to be doing a lot lately. Normally, on nights like tonight, I ride alone, my only companion - "my thoughts". Tonight though, I had a riding partner that kept pace with me - pedal stroke for pedal stroke.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Snow Sucks!!
Oh how quickly our (my) perspective changes. The beautiful snow that I previously blogged about here, was transformed (thanks to warm days and freezing nights) into thick slabs of ice that covered the roads and rendered cycling, without studded tires, a slip-sliding dance with death. My helmet is off to all you die-hards out there who do battle with snow and ice all Winter long!! I - on the other hand - am obviously a "snow-wuss" and parked the bike for the first three days of the week. However, I am happy to report that my CLI did not suffer, cause I took the bus to work.
The roads cleared sufficiently in the latter part of the week for me to pedal once again. On Friday, more inclement weather moved in and I was forced to ride home in a mix of heavy wet snow, sleet and freezing rain. All in all, it made for a messy commute for myself and my beloved Roadster.
The roads cleared sufficiently in the latter part of the week for me to pedal once again. On Friday, more inclement weather moved in and I was forced to ride home in a mix of heavy wet snow, sleet and freezing rain. All in all, it made for a messy commute for myself and my beloved Roadster.
Monday, January 25, 2010
When It Rains - It Pours
This morning, as I stood at the kitchen window grinding my coffee, I noticed the tell tale signs of rain. I was veritably giddy at the sight.
Several months back, I invested in some top notch rain gear from Shower Pass. Since that time I have been eagerly anticipating the opportunity to give it a whirl. Much to my chagrin, I have been continuously thwarted the chance and have blogged my frustration in Paul and His Magic Rain Suit. Today though, the stars aligned in my favor and so did the storm clouds. As I donned my gear, little did I know the adventure that awaited me. All I knew was, it was raining and that was good enough for me.
The precarious predicament into which I rode did not manifest itself until I reached Huntington Park. It was at this point in my commute that I emerged from the protective covering of trees and houses and was confronted with the full force of a southwest wind blowing across the James River and right into my face. At the time, I failed to realize that this was but a cheap imitation of what awaited me when I reached the North Yard parking lot of the shipyard and was confronted with the full, unabated force of mother nature. We are talking sustained winds of 40 mph with gusts as high as 60 mph.
I have ridden in weather conditions of all kinds. I'm talking really bad stuff. However, nothing could have prepared me for what confronted my senses on this day. I shifted to my easiest gear and it required every ounce of my immense strength and pedaling prowess to keep the cranks going in circles and maintain a mere pittance of forward motion. To exacerbate matters, the wind drove the rain at such a velocity, that I was certain the drops would penetrate my face and pierce my brain, causing irreversible damage at best or sudden death at worst. These mentally damaging or life threatening conditions caused me to hold my head down and essentially reduced my vision to a mere 2 feet in front of my wheel.
A lesser man than me would have bemoaned his fate. I on the other hand began to laugh loud and hard. Of course, no one could hear me over the howling of the wind, but I laughed all the same. I was having the time of my life.
Several months back, I invested in some top notch rain gear from Shower Pass. Since that time I have been eagerly anticipating the opportunity to give it a whirl. Much to my chagrin, I have been continuously thwarted the chance and have blogged my frustration in Paul and His Magic Rain Suit. Today though, the stars aligned in my favor and so did the storm clouds. As I donned my gear, little did I know the adventure that awaited me. All I knew was, it was raining and that was good enough for me.
The precarious predicament into which I rode did not manifest itself until I reached Huntington Park. It was at this point in my commute that I emerged from the protective covering of trees and houses and was confronted with the full force of a southwest wind blowing across the James River and right into my face. At the time, I failed to realize that this was but a cheap imitation of what awaited me when I reached the North Yard parking lot of the shipyard and was confronted with the full, unabated force of mother nature. We are talking sustained winds of 40 mph with gusts as high as 60 mph.
I have ridden in weather conditions of all kinds. I'm talking really bad stuff. However, nothing could have prepared me for what confronted my senses on this day. I shifted to my easiest gear and it required every ounce of my immense strength and pedaling prowess to keep the cranks going in circles and maintain a mere pittance of forward motion. To exacerbate matters, the wind drove the rain at such a velocity, that I was certain the drops would penetrate my face and pierce my brain, causing irreversible damage at best or sudden death at worst. These mentally damaging or life threatening conditions caused me to hold my head down and essentially reduced my vision to a mere 2 feet in front of my wheel.
A lesser man than me would have bemoaned his fate. I on the other hand began to laugh loud and hard. Of course, no one could hear me over the howling of the wind, but I laughed all the same. I was having the time of my life.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Grandma Bike??
"Hey! Get that Grandma bike out the way!!" Those were the words that pierced my ears as a co-worker and fellow commuter shot past me on my morning commute to work. I'm not sure which one was worse - he insulting my bike or me? Truth be told, I don't think it's possible to separate the two!
As he pedaled away in the distance, I reached down and gently patted the top tube and soothingly said, "don't listen to him, he's an idiot."
Then I got to thinking. OK, fair enough, she's not the fastest steed on the streets. The fact of the matter is, she's not built for speed. She's built for efficiency, comfort, functionality, flexibility, and practicality. In those realms, she reigns supreme. The fact that she's drop dead gorgeous, well that's just a bonus!!
For all you guys and kinky girls out there - you can look - heck, you can even lust - but don't touch - cause - she's all mine!!
As he pedaled away in the distance, I reached down and gently patted the top tube and soothingly said, "don't listen to him, he's an idiot."
Then I got to thinking. OK, fair enough, she's not the fastest steed on the streets. The fact of the matter is, she's not built for speed. She's built for efficiency, comfort, functionality, flexibility, and practicality. In those realms, she reigns supreme. The fact that she's drop dead gorgeous, well that's just a bonus!!
For all you guys and kinky girls out there - you can look - heck, you can even lust - but don't touch - cause - she's all mine!!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Seagulls on Ice
One really needs to question the sanity of commuting by bike when... 
... the seagulls are sitting on the water instead of in it!
... the seagulls are sitting on the water instead of in it!
Friday, January 8, 2010
A Chilly Welcome
They first week back to work after the holidays has really tested my resiliency and determination. The temperatures every morning have been in the low 20's with a pretty hefty dose of north wind. It would have been so easy to climb in my truck, turn the heater on high and escape frigid weather.
Instead, I not only rode every day, but I changed my route and effectively doubled my commuting miles at the same time. I logged in 70 glorious commuting miles!!
Instead, I not only rode every day, but I changed my route and effectively doubled my commuting miles at the same time. I logged in 70 glorious commuting miles!!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas
By the time I started heading home from work, it was completely and utterly dark. I switched on the lights and rode slowly. My pace was not dictated by the darkness. Nor was it incumbent on my physical limitation. I rode slowly simply because that's how fast I wanted to ride. This was my final ride home in the dark for this year. The following day, I would be heading home to Louisiana for the holidays. I wanted to enjoy this final ride. I wanted to look around and take in my surroundings. I wanted to make it last.
As I was crossing a side street, I glanced down it to make sure no cars were coming. As I did, a particular house caught my attention, it was decked out with lights and Christmas decorations. Wanting a closer look, I turned down the street, stopped in front of the house and admired the handiwork.
They had
- huge snow globes
- reindeer and a sleigh
- a Ferris wheel and Merry-go-round
- Santa and Mrs. Claus
- snowmen, toy soldiers and elves
- candy canes and stockings
- miles of lights strung to and from, up and down, in and out and amidst it all.
- and finally, the whole scene was choreographed to Christmas carols, echoing softly in the night.
After a few minutes of enjoying the scene, I pushed away and rode on down the same street, making my way around the block and back to my normal route home. Two doors down from the winter wonderland house, something else caught my attention. In the side yard were three small, simple, white figures. One was of a little baby, lying in a manger, the other two, were a man and woman looking over it. While above the three, a single star was suspended in the sky. I stopped again, climbed off the bike, sat across the top tube and let this simple scene touch me.
After some time, I managed to pull myself away and climb back on my bike. I rode home even slower. As I did, I pondered Christmas. I love Christmas. I love the whole season. I love the hustle and bustle, the excitement, the activities, the lights, the songs and the time together with family and loved ones.
Yet in all these wonderful things, it is so easy to forget what Christmas is really all about. “The Word became flesh and lived for a while among us.” For me, this single verse out of the Gospel of John embodies all that the Christmas story is about. Throughout the old testament, there are countless stories of God appearing to man in many different ways. Yet, the Christmas story is different. In this story, God did not just appear to man. In the Christmas story, “God became a man.” The living, omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient, almighty, Alpha and Omega, eternal, all powerful GOD, became flesh and blood and dwelt among us.
One would have thought, that when God came to earth that: He would be raised by royalty, yet his parents were mere peasants. He would be born in a palace, yet he entered this world in a stable, because there was no room in the inn. His birth would be attended by all the movers and shakers of the world, yet the only ones that came were smelly shepherds in the fields nearby.
The Christmas scenes that I had just observed brought all this flooding into my heart and mind. What caught my attention was all the lights and fanfare of the festively ,decorated home. It would have been easy to overlook the simple nativity scene. It didn't jump out at you. It was not displayed in a prominent area of the yard. There was nothing distinct to announce its presence. Yet in this simple, quiet scene, the heart of Christmas is captured as perfectly as God orchestrated it some 2000 years before.
“The Word became flesh and lived for a while among us.” My hope and prayer for each of you this Christmas, is that you let Jesus be as human as he intended to be. Let Him into the muck and mire of your everyday life. For it’s only when you let Him in, that He can pull you out.
Merry Christmas and God Bless!
As I was crossing a side street, I glanced down it to make sure no cars were coming. As I did, a particular house caught my attention, it was decked out with lights and Christmas decorations. Wanting a closer look, I turned down the street, stopped in front of the house and admired the handiwork.
They had- huge snow globes
- reindeer and a sleigh
- a Ferris wheel and Merry-go-round
- Santa and Mrs. Claus
- snowmen, toy soldiers and elves
- candy canes and stockings
- miles of lights strung to and from, up and down, in and out and amidst it all.
- and finally, the whole scene was choreographed to Christmas carols, echoing softly in the night.
After a few minutes of enjoying the scene, I pushed away and rode on down the same street, making my way around the block and back to my normal route home. Two doors down from the winter wonderland house, something else caught my attention. In the side yard were three small, simple, white figures. One was of a little baby, lying in a manger, the other two, were a man and woman looking over it. While above the three, a single star was suspended in the sky. I stopped again, climbed off the bike, sat across the top tube and let this simple scene touch me.
After some time, I managed to pull myself away and climb back on my bike. I rode home even slower. As I did, I pondered Christmas. I love Christmas. I love the whole season. I love the hustle and bustle, the excitement, the activities, the lights, the songs and the time together with family and loved ones.Yet in all these wonderful things, it is so easy to forget what Christmas is really all about. “The Word became flesh and lived for a while among us.” For me, this single verse out of the Gospel of John embodies all that the Christmas story is about. Throughout the old testament, there are countless stories of God appearing to man in many different ways. Yet, the Christmas story is different. In this story, God did not just appear to man. In the Christmas story, “God became a man.” The living, omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient, almighty, Alpha and Omega, eternal, all powerful GOD, became flesh and blood and dwelt among us.
One would have thought, that when God came to earth that: He would be raised by royalty, yet his parents were mere peasants. He would be born in a palace, yet he entered this world in a stable, because there was no room in the inn. His birth would be attended by all the movers and shakers of the world, yet the only ones that came were smelly shepherds in the fields nearby.
The Christmas scenes that I had just observed brought all this flooding into my heart and mind. What caught my attention was all the lights and fanfare of the festively ,decorated home. It would have been easy to overlook the simple nativity scene. It didn't jump out at you. It was not displayed in a prominent area of the yard. There was nothing distinct to announce its presence. Yet in this simple, quiet scene, the heart of Christmas is captured as perfectly as God orchestrated it some 2000 years before.
“The Word became flesh and lived for a while among us.” My hope and prayer for each of you this Christmas, is that you let Jesus be as human as he intended to be. Let Him into the muck and mire of your everyday life. For it’s only when you let Him in, that He can pull you out.
Merry Christmas and God Bless!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
I'm Sorry. I didn't see you. It's my fault.
“I'm sorry. I didn't see you. It's my fault.” That's what he said. I’m referring to the driver of the car that almost ran me over.
I was riding home tonight, through the same neighborhood streets that I've ridden home hundreds of times. It was dark. There were no street lights. That made it even darker. I approached an intersection and saw a car approaching from my right. I had the right of way. He had a stop sign. Yet, I instinctively applied the brakes. It was a good thing I did, because he barely slowed down and pulled out right in front of me. I was riding my Christmas Bike and, literally, was lit up like a Christmas tree.
You would have to be as absolutely blind as a bat or as obtuse as a loon to not have seen me – yet he pulled out right in front of me.
One moment I was be-bopping along singing "God Rest You Merry Gentlemen" and the next I clinging to my brakes for dear life. I yelled out "why don't you fricking pay attention!" What is it that causes a man in but an instant to switch from singing about the saving grace of the new born King to practically using the “F” word in the same sentence? That is an ethical dilemma and theological debate that I will let rest and probably never pick up again.
“Why don’t you fricking pay attention!” In the darkness, I failed to realize that he had his window down. Lucky for one of us, I kept me expression of dismay and frustration in the semi-rated “G“ mode. Needless to say, I was not prepared for the words that happened upon my ears. In the dark recesses of the vehicle that came within inches of barreling over me I heard, in a gentle, genuine voice, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. It’s my fault!"
After my close brush with death, I continued to ride on in the darkness. I felt strange. Here I was clearly in the right of way. I was lit up like a Christmas tree. I was dressed in a bright yellow jacket. Yet, as I and my arch enemy – the dreaded thing called an automobile, went our separate ways, it was I who felt guilty for uttering the word “fricking”.
What’s the deal with that? Could it be that my arch enemy, really isn’t an enemy at all? Is all this just an honest mistake or a legitimate misunderstanding? Don’t get me wrong, there are people who drive cars that are complete “A-holes”. Let’s be honest, there are people that ride bicycles that are complete “A-holes” as well. Yet, tonight’s encounter reminds me that the aforementioned “A-holes” on both sides of the transportation debate, represent an infinitesimally small majority. The rest of us are normal, everyday, “I’m sorry – I didn’t see you – It’s my fault” kind of folks.
I was riding home tonight, through the same neighborhood streets that I've ridden home hundreds of times. It was dark. There were no street lights. That made it even darker. I approached an intersection and saw a car approaching from my right. I had the right of way. He had a stop sign. Yet, I instinctively applied the brakes. It was a good thing I did, because he barely slowed down and pulled out right in front of me. I was riding my Christmas Bike and, literally, was lit up like a Christmas tree.
You would have to be as absolutely blind as a bat or as obtuse as a loon to not have seen me – yet he pulled out right in front of me.One moment I was be-bopping along singing "God Rest You Merry Gentlemen" and the next I clinging to my brakes for dear life. I yelled out "why don't you fricking pay attention!" What is it that causes a man in but an instant to switch from singing about the saving grace of the new born King to practically using the “F” word in the same sentence? That is an ethical dilemma and theological debate that I will let rest and probably never pick up again.
“Why don’t you fricking pay attention!” In the darkness, I failed to realize that he had his window down. Lucky for one of us, I kept me expression of dismay and frustration in the semi-rated “G“ mode. Needless to say, I was not prepared for the words that happened upon my ears. In the dark recesses of the vehicle that came within inches of barreling over me I heard, in a gentle, genuine voice, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. It’s my fault!"
After my close brush with death, I continued to ride on in the darkness. I felt strange. Here I was clearly in the right of way. I was lit up like a Christmas tree. I was dressed in a bright yellow jacket. Yet, as I and my arch enemy – the dreaded thing called an automobile, went our separate ways, it was I who felt guilty for uttering the word “fricking”.
What’s the deal with that? Could it be that my arch enemy, really isn’t an enemy at all? Is all this just an honest mistake or a legitimate misunderstanding? Don’t get me wrong, there are people who drive cars that are complete “A-holes”. Let’s be honest, there are people that ride bicycles that are complete “A-holes” as well. Yet, tonight’s encounter reminds me that the aforementioned “A-holes” on both sides of the transportation debate, represent an infinitesimally small majority. The rest of us are normal, everyday, “I’m sorry – I didn’t see you – It’s my fault” kind of folks.
Monday, December 14, 2009
A Christmas Bike
The weather outside is frightful.
The fire in the kerosene heater is so delightful.
A "Carol of the Bells" is a ringing.
I have one more pumkin ale for drinking.
What is the meaning of all this rhyme?
Except to say its Christmas Bike time!
A Christmas Bike
by me
On its handlebars is hung a wreath of green
Around its tubes red tinsel gleams
Angel Bells dangle from the its levers just right.
It's frame is accentuated by blinking lights
Stockings are hung on its rack with care
In hopes that Saint Paul soon would be there!
Merry Christmas Everyone!
The fire in the kerosene heater is so delightful.
A "Carol of the Bells" is a ringing.
I have one more pumkin ale for drinking.
What is the meaning of all this rhyme?
Except to say its Christmas Bike time!
A Christmas Bike
by me
On its handlebars is hung a wreath of green
Around its tubes red tinsel gleams
Angel Bells dangle from the its levers just right.
It's frame is accentuated by blinking lights
Stockings are hung on its rack with care
In hopes that Saint Paul soon would be there!
Merry Christmas Everyone!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Building a Bike - Part 6 - Final Assembly
The parts have been ordered and received.
The sub-assembly is complete.
The frame has been stripped.
The primer, base coat and clear coat have been applied.
We are now ready for the crowning jewel of this project. Assembling it all together. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. So instead on me telling you about it. Why don't you just just back, watch and enjoy as it all comes together.
The sub-assembly is complete.
The frame has been stripped.
The primer, base coat and clear coat have been applied.
We are now ready for the crowning jewel of this project. Assembling it all together. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. So instead on me telling you about it. Why don't you just just back, watch and enjoy as it all comes together.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Building a Bike - Part 5 - Painting
Now that my frame lay bare and naked, there is no time to lose in protecting her from the harsh elements that would love nothing more than to wreak havoc on her innocence and beauty. She longingly looks to me for protection. Sensing her vulnerability, I wasted no time in reaching for the paint can.
To paint my frame, I went down to our local auto store and chose some automobile grade paint. I don't know if one brand of paint is better than another, the one consistent theme that my research revealed was that it was important to stick with one brand of paint for the primer, base coat and clear coat. Even though it was more expensive than the name brands found at hardware stores, I chose to pick up paint from the auto store, cause I figured that automobile paint, given its intended purpose, had to be better quality. The supplies I chose are shown below:
I have to admit that I was a bit nervous about spray painting my frame, primarily because of the high risk of runs and drips. I resolved that no matter how tempted I was, I was going to apply the paint in very thin coats.
I started out with the primer. I sprayed extremely light coats, waiting 10 to 15 minutes between coats. I must have applied 10 or more coats of paint. I didn't really keep track of the number of coats, but I know I went through 2 full cans of spray paint. The primed product turned out very nice, even if I were to say so myself.
I waited a week for the primer to cure and then I was ready for the base coat. I chose black paint because in my mind it is simple and basic. That was what this bike was all about. I lightly sanded the primed surfaces with 400 grit sandpaper. As with the primer, I applied thin coat after thin coat until I had blown through 2 full spray cans of paint. I was very, very pleased with my handiwork.
Once I had the base coat applied, the weather threw a major wrench in my top coating plans. I had to wait 3 weeks until the temperature and humidity got their act together. After what seemed like an eternity, I was finally able to put the finishing touches on my masterpiece. I used 600 grit wet paper to lightly sand the base coat. This dulled the finish a bit, but based on what I had read on the Internet, I was confident the clear coat would restore the luster and add depth. In applying the top coat, I followed the same procedure successfully employed on the primer and base coat. I applied 2 cans worth of multiple thin coats. When all was said in done, I was so proud of the finished product that I could restrain my glee.
With the paint job complete, now came the hardest part, waiting for it to fully cure before final assembly. Mind you, I am a Cajun and patience is not one of our virtues.
To paint my frame, I went down to our local auto store and chose some automobile grade paint. I don't know if one brand of paint is better than another, the one consistent theme that my research revealed was that it was important to stick with one brand of paint for the primer, base coat and clear coat. Even though it was more expensive than the name brands found at hardware stores, I chose to pick up paint from the auto store, cause I figured that automobile paint, given its intended purpose, had to be better quality. The supplies I chose are shown below:
I have to admit that I was a bit nervous about spray painting my frame, primarily because of the high risk of runs and drips. I resolved that no matter how tempted I was, I was going to apply the paint in very thin coats.I started out with the primer. I sprayed extremely light coats, waiting 10 to 15 minutes between coats. I must have applied 10 or more coats of paint. I didn't really keep track of the number of coats, but I know I went through 2 full cans of spray paint. The primed product turned out very nice, even if I were to say so myself.
I waited a week for the primer to cure and then I was ready for the base coat. I chose black paint because in my mind it is simple and basic. That was what this bike was all about. I lightly sanded the primed surfaces with 400 grit sandpaper. As with the primer, I applied thin coat after thin coat until I had blown through 2 full spray cans of paint. I was very, very pleased with my handiwork.Once I had the base coat applied, the weather threw a major wrench in my top coating plans. I had to wait 3 weeks until the temperature and humidity got their act together. After what seemed like an eternity, I was finally able to put the finishing touches on my masterpiece. I used 600 grit wet paper to lightly sand the base coat. This dulled the finish a bit, but based on what I had read on the Internet, I was confident the clear coat would restore the luster and add depth. In applying the top coat, I followed the same procedure successfully employed on the primer and base coat. I applied 2 cans worth of multiple thin coats. When all was said in done, I was so proud of the finished product that I could restrain my glee.With the paint job complete, now came the hardest part, waiting for it to fully cure before final assembly. Mind you, I am a Cajun and patience is not one of our virtues.Stay tuned - the next episode is the final one in this series. You don't want to miss it. This is the episode when I take the assortment of parts and carefully install them, transforming my freshly painted frame into a masterpiece - a work of art - a labor of love.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Building A Bike - Part 4 - Stripping
I finally got a break in the weather, the temperatures touched into the low 70’s and the humidity was next to nothing – the conditions were ideal for painting. Hey what do you know – I happen to have a frame for painting.
As with any paint project, the most important part is the prep work. I fancy myself one heck of a painter, but I don’t prep worth a poop. When it comes to painting – I subscribe to the “damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead” philosophy. This has been a bone of contention between my wife and me on countless home painting projects. This painting project though, is a horse of an entirely different color. This is my bike – my baby - my love – a half ass paint job simply will not do.
While waiting for the weather to break, I had been experimenting with various paint removal methods.
Hand Sanding – First I tried to sand the paint off by hand. While this method was effective at removing the paint – I quickly realized that it would be quite labor intensive and take a long time. While working on bikes is a labor of love, the prospect of manually sanding every square inch and every nook and cranny of the frame was daunting to say the least.
Heat Gun – a heat gun in my hand is as natural as a six gun in the hand of Doc Holiday. I have used a heat gun to effectively strip miles of paint. I have the technique down to a science. It was with great anticipation that I fired up the heat gun and directed it at the Bianchi frame. My enthusiasm quickly waned as I directed the heat on the paint and nothing happened. I expected the paint to bubble up and release its grasp but instead it seemed oblivious to the mounting heat and hung on tenaciously. The heat did manage to weaken it and using the paint scraper I was able to remove the top coat. After 5 minutes and managing to clean a spot ½” X 2”, I set the paint gun aside and pursued an alternate method.
Sand Blast – I had no doubt that sand blasting would have knocked the snot out of the paint and left me with a perfectly prepared surface. Unfortunately, I neither own nor have ready access to a sandblast machine.
Chemical Paint Stripper – Running out of options, I begrudgingly reached for a spray can of aircraft paint stripper. I had no doubt that the stripper would do the job, but I left this as a last ditch effort because I didn’t want to hassle with this messy and extremely toxic substance. I hung the frame outside, donned rubber gloves and standing upwind began to coat the frame. (Special Note: The warning on the paint stripper spray can urged the user strongly to avoid contact with the skin. It went on to say that if any got on the skin, one was to immediately wash with soap and water. The latter part of those instructions are largely unnecessary. Once while spraying, a gust of wind whipped up and directed a few small drops of mist on my face. When that happens – trust me – it burns so bad that you are going to run for the nearest water supply no matter what. My word of advice: WEAR LONG PANTS, LONG SLEEVE SHIRT, RUBBER GLOVES AND FACE SHIELD – REALLY – NO JOKE!)
In a matter of seconds after applying the stripper, I was rewarded by the sight of the paint bubbling off and almost falling from the frame. In 15 minutes or so the top coat of paint was effectively scraped away. I sprayed a fresh coat of stripper to the primer and 15 minutes later I was staring at the bare frame.
I used acetone and wiped away any residual stripper that remained. I then took the frame over to my workbench and using a buffing wheel, removed any small spots of paint that remained. Handling it only with rubber gloves, I wiped her down with acetone one more time and hung her up ready for paint. Behold – my light roadster frame in all her naked glory. Guys - try to contain yourselves!
As with any paint project, the most important part is the prep work. I fancy myself one heck of a painter, but I don’t prep worth a poop. When it comes to painting – I subscribe to the “damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead” philosophy. This has been a bone of contention between my wife and me on countless home painting projects. This painting project though, is a horse of an entirely different color. This is my bike – my baby - my love – a half ass paint job simply will not do.While waiting for the weather to break, I had been experimenting with various paint removal methods.
Hand Sanding – First I tried to sand the paint off by hand. While this method was effective at removing the paint – I quickly realized that it would be quite labor intensive and take a long time. While working on bikes is a labor of love, the prospect of manually sanding every square inch and every nook and cranny of the frame was daunting to say the least.
Heat Gun – a heat gun in my hand is as natural as a six gun in the hand of Doc Holiday. I have used a heat gun to effectively strip miles of paint. I have the technique down to a science. It was with great anticipation that I fired up the heat gun and directed it at the Bianchi frame. My enthusiasm quickly waned as I directed the heat on the paint and nothing happened. I expected the paint to bubble up and release its grasp but instead it seemed oblivious to the mounting heat and hung on tenaciously. The heat did manage to weaken it and using the paint scraper I was able to remove the top coat. After 5 minutes and managing to clean a spot ½” X 2”, I set the paint gun aside and pursued an alternate method.
Sand Blast – I had no doubt that sand blasting would have knocked the snot out of the paint and left me with a perfectly prepared surface. Unfortunately, I neither own nor have ready access to a sandblast machine.
Chemical Paint Stripper – Running out of options, I begrudgingly reached for a spray can of aircraft paint stripper. I had no doubt that the stripper would do the job, but I left this as a last ditch effort because I didn’t want to hassle with this messy and extremely toxic substance. I hung the frame outside, donned rubber gloves and standing upwind began to coat the frame. (Special Note: The warning on the paint stripper spray can urged the user strongly to avoid contact with the skin. It went on to say that if any got on the skin, one was to immediately wash with soap and water. The latter part of those instructions are largely unnecessary. Once while spraying, a gust of wind whipped up and directed a few small drops of mist on my face. When that happens – trust me – it burns so bad that you are going to run for the nearest water supply no matter what. My word of advice: WEAR LONG PANTS, LONG SLEEVE SHIRT, RUBBER GLOVES AND FACE SHIELD – REALLY – NO JOKE!)
In a matter of seconds after applying the stripper, I was rewarded by the sight of the paint bubbling off and almost falling from the frame. In 15 minutes or so the top coat of paint was effectively scraped away. I sprayed a fresh coat of stripper to the primer and 15 minutes later I was staring at the bare frame.
I used acetone and wiped away any residual stripper that remained. I then took the frame over to my workbench and using a buffing wheel, removed any small spots of paint that remained. Handling it only with rubber gloves, I wiped her down with acetone one more time and hung her up ready for paint. Behold – my light roadster frame in all her naked glory. Guys - try to contain yourselves!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Building a Bike - Part 3 - Sub Assembly
Even though I have all the components, I can't start assembling the bike together because I still have to paint the frame. Unfortunately, the weather isn't cooperating, so that task is on the back burner. In the meantime though, there is some amount of sub-assembly that I have been doing:
Cranks:
The Shimano 105 cranks, I salvaged from a bike a friend of mine gave me when, after repeated crashes, he decided to give up the sport. They are 172.5 mm long (just my size) but are outfitted with double chain rings (53 and 39 tooth).
Now for the final bit of sub-assembly - The seat. I unpacked the new Brooks saddle and lovingly coated it top and bottom with Brooks Proofhide. I left the bottom as coated but polished the top once it dried. I then attached the seat post and now the sub-assembly phase of my bike building is complete.
Cranks:
The Shimano 105 cranks, I salvaged from a bike a friend of mine gave me when, after repeated crashes, he decided to give up the sport. They are 172.5 mm long (just my size) but are outfitted with double chain rings (53 and 39 tooth).
(Note: What be that in the middle of the picture? Why bless my soul - I believe it to be a pint of Legend Brown Ale.)
For the Roadster, I want a single chainring so I took both of the old chainrings off and installed a 44 tooth ring. Since I am only using one chain ring, the original chainring bolts are too long. That's why I bought single stack (shorter) ones when I bought the 44 tooth ring. Once the new chainring was firmly in place, I attached the pedals and wala the cranks are ready for final installation.
(Note: I've put a bit of a dent in the Legend:-)
Wheels
I am using Shimano RX100's hubs that I also salvaged from the bike my friend gave me. They have practically no miles on them, but they have been sitting around my garage for several years. During that time the grease has degraded and gummed up. So I took them apart, cleaned them, repacked them with fresh grease and reassembled. I then took the finely tuned hubs and the new Weinmann rims down to BikeBeat to have Rodney build me a set of wheels.
(Note: The color hath changed in the pint glass - Why I believe it to be a bit of good ole Bud Light.)
Handlebars:
It was now time to turn my attention to the handlebars. To me the most important part of the bike, for they provide the window through which I gaze. I removed the stem from an old pair of drop bars and attached it to the North Road bars. I slipped on the grips, attached the brake levers and then attached the new, shiny perfectly tuned brass bell. 
(Note: The Legend Brown Ale kept calling me, so I went back for more.)
Now for the final bit of sub-assembly - The seat. I unpacked the new Brooks saddle and lovingly coated it top and bottom with Brooks Proofhide. I left the bottom as coated but polished the top once it dried. I then attached the seat post and now the sub-assembly phase of my bike building is complete.
(Note: Why that be a different color altogether - hmmm - Yuengling Lager it be.)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Building a Bike - Part 2 - Components
They don't look like much now, but this assortment of parts will one day coalesce into a beautiful and functional "light roadster". I was able to scour my garage and come up with some of the components to get me started: frame, stem, hubs, crank arms, seat post and derailleur. For the rest I had to scour the Internet and in the process found some pretty neat places to shop and some good deals to boot:
Niagara Cycle Works sold through Amazon.com I found some North Road style handlebars (very reasonably priced), Weinmann LP-18 rims and Pyramid steel touring brake levers (these bad boys are a little on the heavy side, being steel and all - but they look old fashioned - I like that).
I got this Brooks Flyer from Lickbike. This is the first Brooks Saddle I've ever owned or ridden on. I've heard so much about them over the years. My butt is giddy over the prospect of finally sitting on one. 
This is the purchase I'm most proud of. I am a bell person - in fact to get an idea of my affection for bells - I recommend you go back and read one of earlier posts entitled "I Lost My Bell Today". I got this jewel from Calhoun Cyclery. It's a Suzu brass bell. I have to tell you this bell not only looks great, but it has a beautiful sound that resonates for a looooong time. I ordered two (one for the Roadster and one for my wife's bike). I'm thinking of ordering a 2 or 3 more and outfitting all my bikes with them.
From Harris Cyclery I found all kinds of cools stuff including a 44 tooth chainring, single stack chainring bolts, SKS P-45 fenders, repro Raleigh type grips and MKS black rubber pedals (these booggers are heavy too, but again old and classic looking).In total - I spent $346.49 on the components. I'll need a few more miscellaneous items like cables, housings and rim tape. I'll also need to get my wheels built. I'll get all this at local shops. I'm hoping to get by with spending about $500.00 in total. Not a bad price when you consider all the hours of joy I will get riding this beauty.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Building a Bike - Part 1 - Intro
I am starting to build another bike and since I now have a blog, I thought I would take you with me. In the description of my blog I refer to it as "looking over my handlebars and telling you what I see." Well - this series of blogs will be more like "looking over my workbench..." I will be building what I call a modified "Light Roadster". Sheldon Brown, in an article on The Golden Age of 3 Speeds describes this style of bike as:
"Roadsters were the old-fashioned style of bicycle popular in the countryside. They usually had 635 mm (28 x 1 1/2) wheels with westwood rims, long cranks and long wheel bases, and very shallow frame angles (68 degrees or less.) Roadsters used "roller-lever" brakes operated by rods, instead of cables. The typical roadster would also be equipped with a"gear case", a chainguard that completely enclosed the "chain".
Sports or "light roadster" bicycles were the basic transportation of the urban working class. They feature 590 mm (26 x 1 3/8) wheels with Endrick or Raleigh-pattern rims, full steel fenders (or "mudguards" to the British) "North Road" upright handlebars, and cable-operated brakes. Sports bicycles had rather more nimble frame geometry, typically with 72 degree frame angles. These bicycles were faster and lighter than roadsters. The vast majority of English bicycles that made it to the United States fall into this category.
"Roadsters were the old-fashioned style of bicycle popular in the countryside. They usually had 635 mm (28 x 1 1/2) wheels with westwood rims, long cranks and long wheel bases, and very shallow frame angles (68 degrees or less.) Roadsters used "roller-lever" brakes operated by rods, instead of cables. The typical roadster would also be equipped with a"gear case", a chainguard that completely enclosed the "chain".
Sports or "light roadster" bicycles were the basic transportation of the urban working class. They feature 590 mm (26 x 1 3/8) wheels with Endrick or Raleigh-pattern rims, full steel fenders (or "mudguards" to the British) "North Road" upright handlebars, and cable-operated brakes. Sports bicycles had rather more nimble frame geometry, typically with 72 degree frame angles. These bicycles were faster and lighter than roadsters. The vast majority of English bicycles that made it to the United States fall into this category.
I found this picture of a 1970's model Raleigh sports roadster in Wikipedia.
My version of the "Light Roadster" will be similar to the classic version with a with a few twists. I will be using an old Bianchi steel frame (that I will be repainting). Similar to the traditional "Light Roadster", it will have fenders, North Road handlebars, three speed style grips, pedals and a leather saddle. However, instead of a three speed hub, I am opting for an 8 speed cassette and rear derailleur. I'll also be using 32 spoke, 700 mm aluminum rims.
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