Learning to Ride

On my ride home yesterday, I saw a young boy. He was straddling the bike sheepishly. He was unsure of himself, but determined. His left foot was hopping along the ground as his right foot was busy coaxing the corresponding pedal to the 1:00 o'clock position. By this time, I drew abreast of him and quickly passed by. I glanced over my shoulder to gauge his success to find that he and the bike were a cohesive heap on the road. He immediately jumped up, grabbed the bike patiently and started to attempt the whole process again. I smiled to myself and thought, bravo, keep at it lad. The joys and freedom that await you once you get up on two wheels will far outweigh the bumps and bruises you suffer while learning to.

The Same - Yet Different

The below two pictures were taken...
...at the same time
...from the same place
...of the same thing
...using the same camera

The only difference was they were taken 24 hours apart.  The lesson here - no matter how low the visibility is for you today - keep pedaling - there is a brighter tomorrow.

Fare De Well Summer

Most people consider Labor Day weekend as marking the end of Summer. The event that I somberly celebrate is much more personal.

The temperature is a pleasant 83 F. The winds are mild and there be not a cloud in the skies.

Let not this weather fool you. It is not a balmy July day. The lack of humidity is proof of that. It's 5:30 in the afternoon and the sun is already low in the skies.

It's the middle of October. Any day now I'll wake up and it will be cold. In a couple weeks, the time will change and it will be dark when I ride to work in the morning and ride home at night.

Today is the perfect day to celebrate one last time my favorite Summer ritual. I stopped at a local convenience store to purchase some liquid refreshment. Rode to my favorite picnic table nestled among the trees at a nearby park.

I sat back and silently replayed the memories if this past Summer. I pondered the long, cold, dark winter that lay ahead. Here I sat between the two. I guess that's what life is. It's lived on the precipice between the past and present, neither of which I can change or control. The only thing I can affect is the here and now. What I choose to do with each moment of the present. For this moment, I choose to open another beer and enjoy the interlude. In a little bit, I'll ride away from this spot and in all likelihood will not return until new leaves begin to bud on the trees around me.

Fare well Summer - until we meet again on the other side of Winter!!

Blogging Scarcity

I haven't been blogging much lately!

Why?  Cause I haven't been riding much lately!!

Why?  Cause I haven't been able to get to my bikes!!!

This blog is not about bike riding in general.  It's about MY bike riding.  It's about what I think, feel and see when I look over MY handlebars.  If I don't ride much - I don't have much to talk about.

Where Have I Been

My lack of posts lately has, I'm sure, caused concern on the part of my plethora of faithful readers. No doubt you've been wondering where I've been.

Well, to tell you the truth, I've been putting my head down and logging in the miles. I've not stopped a lot to enjoy the view, take pictures or write. I know, it's a travesty of sorts, but I'm afraid it can't be helped.  I had / have a few big summer trips that necessitate my being in some semblance of shape in order to fully enjoy them.

The first was actually a couple weeks ago, when several guys from work and I went on our annual weekend ride in the Shenandoah Valley. Which I'll cover in more detail in a separate post. The second is coming up in a few weeks time, a week long, self supported tour in the Adirondack's of upstate New York. I was initially taking this trip with someone else, but due to family commitments, he had to back out. So now, I'm doing this trip solo. Again, I'll cover that trip in more detail in future posts.

So there you have it. There is a time to talk about riding and there is a time to ride. Now is a time to ride. I'd like to say more, but my bike awaits.

That Little Thing Between My Legs

I fancy riding home from work one day and being stopped by an attractive young lady (blonde) who boldly inquires, "what's that little thing between your legs?".

I would nonchalantly reply, "What - this - oh - it's my folding bike!". Then I would proceed to whip it out from under me and deftly fold and unfold it to demonstrate that not only is it rigid enough to ride, but flexible enough to bend. After that, I would stand there silently and let her admire it up close and personal. Then at just the moment that I saw the glint of lust twinkle in her eyes, I would drop the pick-up line of all pick-up lines, "would you like to ride it?".

Phantom on a Bike

I was climbing on my bike about to head home for the day. It was late, the sun was starting to set, the light was fading fast. It was at this moment that I saw the ghost of a man dressed in leather knickers, wearing a Flat Cap and riding a vintage tricycle. The bike looked like a trike version of a penny farthing with two big wheels in the front and a small wheel in the back.

I knew it was a ghost cause people don't dress like that nowadays and they don't ride those kind of bikes. If these indicators weren't enough to convince me that this was an apparition, the fact that he rode right through the iron bars of the fence surrounding the place I work without missing a pedal stroke removed all doubt.

I was just about to take off after him to get a closer look and maybe chat a bit, when the unthinkable happened, I woke up. I frantically tried to force myself back to sleep that I might ride with this phantom of by gone years. Yet my efforts at slumber were all in vain.

A Tender Moment

My commute to work Tuesday morning was what can only be characterized as a "Tender Moment".  The result of sitting on one of these...

the morning after eating 3 of these...

Lycra - The Silent Thief

On a ride home recently, I passed two riders heading in the opposite direction, I waved.

About a half mile further down the road, I passed another rider heading in the opposite direction, I waved.

About a quarter mile further down the road, I passed yet another rider heading in the opposite direction, I waved.

All four of these riders had several things in common...

- They all were clad in Lycra from head to foot.
- They all wore sleek sunglasses.
- They all rode high dollar, carbon fiber, road bikes.

Now, I have no problem with their attire or choice of bikes. I own and don my share of Lycra, I wear sunglasses to protect my eyes and enjoy riding my carbon fiber, road bike.

It was the fourth thing they all had in common that I find irksome...

- none of them waved back!

Was their lack of salutation because...
- they didn't like me? I highly doubt it. They didn't even know me. Not to mention the fact that I am a very likable, if not a downright super guy.

- the Lycra they wore was so tight that it restricted their arm movement? I highly doubt it. I wear Lycra on occasion and my movements are not hampered in any way shape or form. Well, that's not entirely true, it does have a tendency to keep certain things from shifting.

- they didn't see me because they wore dark sunglasses on a cloudy day? Possible, their glasses were indeed dark and the sun was no where in sight.

- carbon fiber, road bikes are too unstable to take a hand off the handlebars? I highly doubt it. I watch plenty of pro road cycling races and everyone of those guys are riding carbon fiber, road bikes. They are all the time taking a hand or two off the handlebars to eat, drink and I've even seen them execute taking a leak while riding with one hand on the handlebars.

I do not believe the reason for those four riders not waving can be found in the physical. I think it's a mentality thing. When someone dresses in their best Lycra, sports a sleek pair of sunglasses and climbs on their carbon fiber steeds, they have a tendency to focus on going far and going fast. What they fail to realize is that while this single minded focus on performance will greatly enhance their power output and cardiovascular system, it will also rob them of the simple pleasure of being on a bike.

They breathe to fuel their engine and are robbed of the subtle fragrance of fresh air.

They pedal for speed and distance and are robbed of the joy of the journey.

They lean over the handlebars to escape the wind and are robbed of the wind blowing away their cares.

They focus intently on the road in front of their wheel and are robbed of the passing beauty that surrounds them.

They brake to maneuver their bikes and are robbed of slowing down to discover something new.

They reach down to hydrate and are robbed of the richness that comes from reaching out to their fellow mankind.

They're on their bikes and that in and of itself is a plus. Sadly though - they're missing out on so much more:-(

A Hitching Post

I have ranted in the past about the fact that when you are driving an automobile, you are isolated from the world around you. I followed that by waxing philosophically about how riding a bike, you are more a part of the world around you.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit that even on a bike it is possible to migrate to a state of isolation as well. Case in point. I have been riding my current commuting route twice a day for just about every working day over the past 15 years. Just recently, on a typical ride home, I noticed this...

...a hitching post. I could go down the path of trying to surmise the purpose of such a rare device in such an unusual place. As I've said, I've been riding this route for 15 years and I have yet to overtake or be overtaken by a horse. In fact, I've never even seen a horse. So why is there a hitching post on the side of the road? I don't know the answer to that question and the fact of the matter is solving that mystery is not the point of this post.

The real question is, why is there a hitching post on the side of the road AND I'VE NEVER NOTICED IT BEFORE?

It's not like I zoom past it. I'm riding along at a comfortable pace of only 12 mph.

It's not like it's too far from the road. It is right on the side of the road.  It can't be more than 4 or 5 feet from the tip of my handlebars as I ride by.

It's not like it's blocked from view. It's right out there in the open.

If all these things be true, and they are, then how in the world can I pass by this thing more than 2000 times and never see it?

Perhaps bike commuting has more to teach me still.

There is so much more to see, if only I look around.

There is so much more to find, if only I seek.

There is so much more to experience, if only I open myself up.

I'm not likely to pass this hitching post again without taking notice, and when I do, it will serve as a reminder of this invaluable lesson.

A Wet Week

This week was the wettest, dreariest week this year.  One day as I was riding home, clothed in rain gear from head to toe, I pondered the cause of such poopy weather.  Then I looked down...

...and saw the water beading up on my top tube (Note: Since this is my Bike Friday, it's also my down tube).  The answer became crystal clear!  The mystery was solved!!  I knew with perfect clarity why the entire Eastern seaboard was inundated with a mix of rain, sleet and snow!!!

The weekend before - I washed and waxed my bike!!!!

Sorry everyone...

Mountain Bike Life Lesson

A couple weekends ago I took the mountain bike out for a ride. This was the first time I've ridden her in probably two years.

Considering how much I use to mountain bike, that long a drought is almost unfathomable, if not down right shameful.

It was an absolutely beautiful day. I decided to ride one of my favorite trails from back in the day. It is not a marked trail, nor a legal one, but it is a technically challenging one that is a heck of a lot of fun. I hadn't ridden that trail in at least 10 years. I wasn't sure if it still existed or had been maintained. I rode to where the trail head use to be and found no evidence of it. Not to be that easily thwarted, I rode slowly for a quarter mile beyond, constantly scanning the side of the road. After a bit, my eyes happened upon the tell tale signs of a trail disappearing into the woods. Without a moments hesitation, I took it and soon found myself lost in the pure joy of man + bike + nature.

My riding was not as smooth or as fast as in my heyday of mountain biking. Lacking the confidence of old...

...I stopped and pushed over the first couple log climbs.

...I tapped the brakes a little more than usual.

...I was a little more guarded and timid on the downhills.

But as the trail wound further into the woods, Those skills which had been honed to perfection many years before, began to sharpen once again.

I wasn't a quarter mile into the trail when I was reminded of a key mountain bike principal that can also serve you well in real life. To be a good mountain biker, you can't just focus on the patch of trail directly in front of your wheel. Nor can you let your eyes wander to the sights around you. No, you need to simultaneously and constantly focus on where you are AND where you are going.

Before you make this jump..

...you need to be sure your properly aligned to cross the bridge just beyond when you land.

Before you ride over these logs...

...you need to be sure your pedals are level and your carrying enough speed to get over the top.

Before you go screaming down this hill...

...you need to be prepared, when you get to the bottom, to brake with abandonment for the sharp curve with the tree strategically planted along it's outside.

If you are so short sited as to only focus on the jump, the logs and the downhill, you will quickly find that your moments of euphoria will be short lived and quickly followed by tragedy.

The Abandonment of Winter

As I ride through Huntington Park these days, I observe a recurring theme.

The tennis courts...

...abandoned.

The basketball courts...

...abandoned.

The ball fields...

...abandoned.

In another month, this won't be the case. As the days grow longer and temperatures grow fairer, this park will be bustling with activity. When that time comes, I will relish being a part of the revelry. For now I find quiet contentment in the victim of cold and darkness.

Why I Ride #2 - Solitude

I relate well to what Henry David Thoreau said in his classic "Walden"...

I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.

It's interesting that I can be riding in an urban setting. There are cars everywhere. There is not a vacant lot in the miles of neighborhoods I traverse. Instead, they are packed with houses occupied by people cooking, eating dinner, watching TV, taking showers, getting ready for bed and maybe even doing things that best not be verbalized on a rated "G" blog. Yet, even as I ride in the midst of it all, I still find myself alone. Again to quote Thoreau...

Solitude is not measured by the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows.

Solitude is but a state of mind, a state that cycling enables me to reach quite often.

Why I Ride #1 - It's Keeps My World Small

It was cold and dark as I rode home this evening. Wrapped in my cocoon of clothes and surrounded by an envelop of darkness, my world is small. It is no larger than the expanse of my headlight...
Beyond that is nothingness. I like that. It's a small world, but it's plenty big enough to suit me.

Bulls and Bikes

Riding a bike back and forth to work gives one lots of time to think. For the most part, that's a good thing. If your not careful though, you can find your mind wandering to some pretty strange places.

Case in point. The other day I was riding home from work and happened upon this...

This got me to thinking. Would I ever consider hanging a pair of "bull balls" from my bike. Upon further consideration I came to the conclusion that "bull gonads" and "bike riding" are actually diametrically opposed. I guess that's why you never see bulls riding bikes. It's not because they don't have hands to properly grip the handlebars. This puzzle is not solved by the fact that they don't make helmets with holes designed for horns to stick out of. The answer to this mystery lies not in the reality that they don't make "bull shoes" much less ones that integrate with clipless pedals. There is but one - correction - two reasons that bulls don't ride bikes and they can both be found lying gently in the nether region.

Furthermore, If in the unlikely event I felt obliged to supplement my masculinity by hanging a pair of bull nuts from my bike, I certainly wouldn't choose an injection molded plastic version that you buy at a nickel and dime store. No - if I were to embark upon such a desperate path, it would be the BIG BRASS version for me. Yea - I know - they are more expensive. Yea - I know - they would be added weight. But - come on now - we are talking about my manhood after all!! Aren't we??

A Bike's Story?

If bikes could talk, oh the stories they could tell. Take this bike for instance...
I first saw it on my ride home the previous night. I was riding through a park, when my peripheral vision caught a glimpse of it on the perimeter of the glow of my headlight. I only saw it for an instant, but was immediately struck by the oddity. It was parked, exactly as it sits in the above picture - all alone, in the pitch black of night, pulled into a parking spot and resting on it's kickstand. What was it doing here? Where was the owner? That evening I was tempted to turn around and get a better look, but it was dark and in an isolated part of the park - I was tired, anxious to get home and not particularly inclined to being mugged in the event it's rider was of ill refute. I kept riding.

The next morning, on my ride to work, I was surprised to see the same bike, in the same spot. I was tempted to turn around, but was running late. I kept riding. That same afternoon on my ride home, there it still sat. Now my attention really peaked. It was daylight, I was in no hurry and I had no where to be or go. I stopped riding.

It was an old Peugeot that had certainly seen better days. It's chain was black with grease and grime. It sported steel rims that were rusted and while I did not spin them could tell were far from true. The handlebars were unwrapped and exposed. The tires were thread barren and the front one was flat. This bike had been around the block a time or two and was most definitely in need of a little TLC.

If bikes could talk, this would be one whose old, rusted wheels I would sit at and listen intently to it's tale. How old was it? How many miles passed beneath it's wheels? What was it's top speed? What paths had it taken? How many riders had it known? I would most certainly hear stories that brought a smile and still others that caused me to discreetly wipe away the tears that involuntarily trickled down my cheeks. In the end, I would be forced to bid this old steed farewell and hopefully walk away a better bike rider for having made it's acquaintance.

12 MPH

Today is my last day of work for 2010. This morning when I climb on my bike it will mark the 205th day that I've ridden to work. Considering the fact that I worked a total of 211 days, that equates to riding to work 97% of the time. The other 6 days or 3%, I took the bus. I am quite proud of the fact that I did not use my truck a single time in the past year to get to work.

As I look back on this accomplishment, I realize that it was not without some degree of sacrifice. I rode through heat, freezing cold, rain, snow, ice and heavy winds. I rode early in the morning and late into the evening. There was more than one day that if that bike were a horse, I'd a shot it. I've had cars run through red lights, cut me off, buzz by me too close for comfort, honk at me, yell at me and run me off the road.

Sure, this year has not been without it's trials and tribulations. Yet, I rode on days when the temperature was absolutely perfect and the breezes gentle. I rode on days when there was not a cloud in the sky and nights when the stars were so numerous that if you could but reach the first one, you could spend an eternity hopping from one to to another. I saw majestic sunrises and breathtaking sunsets.

Commuting to work is healthy for the environment and for me. Commuting to work reduces congestion on our roads and our dependence on foreign oil. Those are good, noble reasons, but they're not what keeps me climbing on that bike day after day.

Everyday that I ride gives me a chance to slow my life down a bit and that's the primary reason I do it. 12 MPH - that's just about the right speed for me. At 12 MPH, I'm not gonna break any records or win any races. At 12 MPH, I won't be out of breath or tax my cardiovascular system. At 12 MPH, it's gonna take me a little longer to get to where I'm going.

By today's standards - 12 MPH ain't fast - but it gives me time look around, listen, breathe, think, relax and unwind. That makes 12 MPH fast enough for me.

My New Mantra

I proudly display my new mantra on the downtube of my Commuting Bike...

WHY???

I have gone many places, rode many miles and done many things on a bike; However, I must confess, the above is a feat I have yet to experience. While I tremble at the potentially damaging anatomical effects that such an experience may impart on my "manhood", I am determined to give it a whirl. When I do, you, my faithful readers will be the first to know. Heck, I may even capture this "sensitive" moment in pictures!!

Some Unsolicited Advice

One evening this week, as I slowly rode home through the dark streets, I passed a lady who was in the process of getting in her SUV. She saw me coming and waited until I went by before opening the door. I nudged to my left to give her a little more room. As I passed she kindly encouraged me to "be careful out there", I mumbled in return "I will". The last thing I heard her say before I disappeared in the envelop of darkness was, "there are crazy drivers out there!"

I have to admit I was a bit taken aback by her admonitions. I've been commuting regularly back and forth to work for more than 20 years. She wasn't telling me something that I didn't already know, not only as an intellectual fact, but from first hand experience. What surprised me was that she made such an effort to share unsolicited advice to a stranger in the dark. It was a testament as to her character and provided an encouraging reminder that while "there are crazy drivers out there", there's also some friendly, courteous ones that care about their fellow man, whether they be on 4 wheels or 2.