Where do I go from here?

(I typed this up a week ago, while I was still en route to CA, but failed to post it. Here it is, late.)

Sitting on a westbound train in Nevada, memories return of the last time I was in this place. 100 miles south of this train and over that ridge, I felt the successes of my physical abilities, my mechanical aptitude and my slightly insane goals. I felt the failure of lengthy plans swiftly defeated, but I also felt the love of a great lady (I still love that lady, but things are different now). Like a boomerang or a hairpin turn on a racetrack, after that launch, I've since hit the apex of these travels and, in a few hours, I will have returned home. What comes next?

My next goal is to add another layer to this 'bicycling' thing. I enjoy riding my bike; I enjoy piling up the miles (and by the way, I wish a had a good count of my 2010 commuting miles, but using four different bikes, multiple routes, and being lazy with the cyclometer means I only have a rough guess at my mileage). I enjoy working at bike shops, as well, and intend to immediately invest a large chunk of time seeking employment at another quality shop. None of those things really has a long-term effect, however. I mean, they have a great effect on me personally, but I want to go a step further. I'm looking to pass on my dedication and experience, and enable the next guy that decides that he wants to try this 'bicycling' thing. Sales and wrenching are a good start, but I want to explore a bit. I would be happy assisting the push for bicycle-friendly laws or further cycling and related public transit infrastructure, education (safety classes and such), guiding tours, or anything else that makes cycling an everyday experience for more people. I'd like to help make it so the phrases 'Don't ride in the street, it's dangerous!' and *Honk!*'Get out of the road!' are distant memories.

I usually try to wrap up my posts in some clever way, but I think I'm just going to end this one here, as I think three days on a train has fried my brain just a little. More soon.

I Went to a Park Tool Summit...

And All I Got Was This Lousy Blurry Picture of My Bike.




Sunday, I left Massachusetts for Philadelphia, PA. Tomorrow, I leave for Sacramento via a three-day AMTRAK trek.

The ride from downtown Philly (where my ridiculously generous friend lives) to the Summit location out near the airport is a cold, windy 8 miles in each direction. This morning, snow, freezing rain, and salt converged on my bike, conspiring to turn my drivetrain into one big slushball. It was crudded up bad enough that the chain couldn't wrap securely around my smaller cogs, making a tricky job out of gear selection. The slush caused slippery roads, and masked hazards in the pavement (watch out for the diagonal trolley tracks halfway down southbound Lindbergh!), but ironically turned my one spill into a gentle, if not comical, slide on my rear end.

The Park Tool Summit? On the whole, a beneficial experience. There were certainly some presentations that stood out above the others, but in just about every class, I was pulling the guts out of the newest top-of-the-line hardware from any given company (most memorably Fox, Mavic and Shimano), and I found myself elbow-to elbow with people that influence the cycling industry around me, as well as at least one fellow that (unbeknown to either of us) inspired and helped me back when I was just beginning to learn how to wrench on bikes.

More very soon. I'll soon have plenty of time to make up for blogs left untyped.

It could've been worse

On my way to work this morning, I was involved in my first serious bike vs car accident.  I don't want to get into specifics or finger-pointing as to who did what and why; my bike-righteous opinions make me feel one way about the incident, what I know of the law says I was technically in the right, but rationality says that I don't blame the driver on a personal level.  He was just an old man, and I'm sure he was more shaken up about it than I was.

I went into the side of his car at 15+ mph, straight-on, bashing my chin and splitting it open in a 'U' shape (in what the medics called an 'evulsion'- I dare you to Google Image Search that) on the roof, and my shoulder took a wallop too. I got right up under my own power and carried my bike off the road.  Someone called 911 (it was a crowded intersection with lots of witnesses).  Emergency services were there in record time, I was loaded onto a stretcher, and taken to the hospital.  They took x-rays of my neck and jaw (which came out clean), and I received 18 stitches to my chin.  I think the doc did an awesome job sewing me up; regrettably, this was about the best picture of his work I could get.

The bike is about half toast.  No, it wasn't 'Wings', thank FSM!  The casualty was my new race bike project, only recently completed and out on about its sixth ride.  Note the busted fork (cracked up near the brake caliper) and the twisted front wheel.  I think the shifters and bars are still usable.

Well, it was a cool bike for a while.  It probably will be again.

I'm undeterred and in good spirits; I'll be back on the (other) bike to my next day of work at the shop.

More confession....

I have a name for one of my bikes.  I've never actually vocalized it; until now, the name has only ever existed in only my head.  I keep it to myself, conscious that that outside of boats and stuffed animals, it's considered just a little weird to name one's inanimate possessions.  Being just a little weird, however, I allow myself a bit of emotional attachment to my bikes.  Why shouldn't I?  I spend countless hours selecting, assembling, toiling over and fidgeting with each piece of each bike to, ultimately, create what I see as an extension of myself, built as workhorses to enable or fulfill some aspect of my life

So, 'Which bike?' you ask- well, you already know him, from early in this blog.  Without further adieu, this is 'Secondhand Wings':

He looks a little different than he did a year ago, thanks to some spiffy new hardware- a new wheelset (DT Swiss TK540s on XT hubs, to match the rest of the drivetrain, which is now almost entirely XT) and Avid BB7s pulled by Cane Creek Drop-V levers. The Jandd panniers were a gift from my sister that are now seeing some serious mileage.  Thanks Elaine!

And the name?  Inspired by a song.  Thrice's The Melting Point of Wax is based on the mythology of Icarus (and his father Daedalus).  In the song, Daedalus has just given Icarus his new set of wings made of feathers, wax, and string, and the two are are about to escape their island prison.  The song begins:

"I've waited for this moment all my life and more
And now I see so clearly what I could not see before.

The time is now or never and this chance won't come again

Throw caution and myself to the wind

There's no promise of safety with these secondhand wings

But I'm willing to find out what impossible means

A leap of faith.

Parody of an angel, miles above the sea

I hear the voice of reason screaming up to me

'You flew too high, for now you're too close to the sun

Soon your makeshift wings will come undone'"

I've been feeling this song ever since my plans for a one-month vacation down the coast became plans for a three-month trek across the country.  When taking a quick break from (what we generally consider) normality turned into dropping the security of my job, selling most of my belongings, and adopting a new lifestyle far from my home, family, and friends.

This last year has been far from smooth sailing.  I've known what it feels like to be absolutely penniless, with no recourse in sight.  At times, I've felt lonely or socially overwhelmed, sometimes both at the same time.  I've made some poor decisions and acted irresponsibly with others' trust.  I've had my actions and rationale questioned.  At times, I've wished I was home.

If I could, would I trade in the last year- turn the clock back, reset everything and not have not moved to the east coast?  Absolutely not.  For every period of loneliness, I've made a new friend.  For every poor decision, I've learned something new.  For every doubt that passed through my mind, I've reached a new solid conclusion.  For every daydream of home, there's something exciting on the horizon on my current bearing.

This brings me back to, among many places, the bike.  It is the accessory to my leap of faith.  It guarantees me that whenever I want, I can be wherever my mind places me- whether it be to the next town, the other side of the country, or the other side of the planet.  That's what it was built for, and that's what it continues to do.

I'm not apologizing for the four-month gap.

Actually, I am. But I'm not. Get over it.

Thanks for tuning back in.

I typed up a page of information about what I've been doing, what I'm up to and what's coming up, but it was a mess and I scraped it clean. I'll dole it all out eventually.

This is a cycling blog; let's talk about bikes.

I love bikes because every one has a story. My first bike was a Roadmaster Mt. Fury. I don't remember exactly how much or how far I used to ride it, but I know that at some point in my early teens, I left it unlocked outside the automotive repair bay at Walmart for five minutes and it disappeared. I was one furious little kid when that happened. I still remember the apologetic reactions of the nearby mechanics and random adults when I threw that tantrum. Yow. I'm 15 years late, but I'd like to apologize to those people, and also to my mother, to whom I lied and said that the bike had been stolen out of our garage (because I knew I had left the bike unlocked). She later gave me her old Motobecane, which I eventually rode into the ground.

Confession feels good sometimes. Sigh.


This is my farm bike- its a 17-inch late-90's Bianchi B.A.S.S. It gets me down the snakelike muddy ruts through the farm that we call 'roads' in style. It doesn't have the utilitarian buckets and racks that some of the others have, but the durable singlespeed drivetrain (the Raceface cranks and Paul hubs came stock) and ridiculous(ly awesome) visible orange paintjob make tossing it in the grass less of an issue.

Acquiring it was a pretty uneventful Craigslist purchase ($~240) in Sacramento, but there's more to the story. Note the Fox fork- more awesomeness, from a fancy Specialized full-suspension bike. I loved the fork, but hated the rest of the bike (it was heavy and squishy and was a chore to ride up hills on). I sold the rest of that bike on Craigslist, but with difficulty, as I had at least one person replying to my ads publicly, insisting that I was misrepresenting the goods I was selling. It got so bad that I stopped posting it in Sacramento and jumped over to the Bay Area, eventually finding a buyer in the Napa valley.

To be honest, the guy harassing me had some good points, but I'm still a solid 80% sure I was in the right.

Caveat emptor.

More soon.

Jobs!

Yeah, plural.

First, things are really picking up at the farm. Since my last post, its been alternating between beautiful (even hot) days and bouts of rough rainstorms. The result is fields full of soil begging to be planted into, and we're happy to oblige.

First, though, we've got to work the ground over a bit. Our fields are saturated with rocks, likely from foundations of long-gone barns and homes that once sat on this lot. After an initial round of rock-picking (a harmless-sounding phrase that involves excavating boulders from the ground), we drag a few different plows and tilling machines through the ground, which in turn exposes more rocks for more rock-picking. In the winter, the freezing ground will force more rocks to the surface, and we'll repeat the process as needed next spring.

The result of all of that work is soft, clean soil. Look closely- each of those little pits is a seed for a bean plant, placed by hand, 4" apart.

Elsewhere, more seeds are sprouting in the greenhouses, and some are already being transferred into the ground on the farm.

Brush clearing continues, as well. Eventually the place where this tree stood will be a gravel driveway into the farmstand.

Just around the corner from there, Alida shows off her artistic talent and shovel mastery with the farmstand's sign.

Doesn't that all just warm your heart with joy and pride? Well, it should.

Heck, I keep needing to remind myself this is a cycling blog....

My other job is at a bike shop- a fairly big, healthy one, owned by an enthusiastic cyclist. The work ranges from the menial (assembling childrens' bikes, some of which have more money invested in colorful labels and tassels than they do in bearings and bolts) to the hectic (sunny weekend days? Forget about taking breaks!).

Still, I'm happy to work there. It was flattering to be more or less hired on-the-spot, and watching the senior mechanics and salespeople in action is educational and entertaining. Plus, as a bonus, I get a 35-mile commute- just under two hours of riding per day- five days a week (at that rate, its 700 miles in this last month, and on course for way over 8000 miles per year).

Aubrey is flying back in from job training in San Francisco and a writers' convention/boozing party in Denver tonight, so I'm going to cut this off. Catch ya later :)

It looks like Spring sprung early

Sunny days and 45-50 degree days for the next week- that's practically tropical! In celebration, Aubrey and I grabbed the bikes and went out for a ride to Borderlands state Park and Lake Massapoag. On the way through, I stopped for a quick picture....



It looks like people on the east coast take their Neighborhood Watch organizations seriously! I think its an M48 Patton; they were used in Vietnam and a few battles in the Middle East during the 70s and 80s. Don't ask me how I know that- its a guy thing.

Today, all (seven) of us gathered for a day of brush and small tree clearing. The picture at the bottom is the 'after'; the wall wasn't visible when we started, and there was a huge patch of invasive shubbery in the middle of the field. The space we cleared will soon be a farm stand, garden, orchard and parking lot.





Next, something I've wanted to do for a while- a recap of the equipment I used on my bike tour. If you're a fellow tourist, then you might find the rest of the info in this post useful (in conjunction with the equipment and packing lists from very early in my blog)- if not, you're very welcome to skip it.


The Roadrat frame rode well (helped by fat tires and a Brooks saddle). I have two issues with the frame, though neither is exactly a gripe. The first is that the drastically-sloping top tube is difficult to hook a frame pump to. I 'solved' the problem by bracketing the pump to the downtube. On the bright side, the slope also makes it easy to step over and straddle the bike, which makes long days of riding just a hair easier. The other issue is the rear-facingdropout system- removing the rear wheel requires removing and reinstalling the derailer/derailer hanger assembly, which simply slides on and off, but is under a lot of spring tension and snaps somewhat like a mousetrap when removed (switching to a gear with less tension on the derailer, or using a SRAM derailer rather than Shimano, might alter the effect). The benefit of the system, however, is that you're never in danger of damaging your rear derailer when the rear wheel is off, and you can set the rear of the bike evenly and directly on the ground. You never need to flip the (heavy, loaded) bike over, and reinstalling the rear wheel is easier (though lengthier) than with a typical vertical or horizontal setup.

I don't have much to say about the drivetrain. I loved the friction bar-end shifters for their preicision, speed, and simplicity, and for now, its the only shifting mechanism I'll want on a touring bike. The gearing (48/30/22, 12-26) was just about perfect- I only spun out on the craziest of downhill slopes, and I almost always had a 'low-enough' gear to carry myself. I used the very bottom of my gear ratios, and later walked briefly, when I rode into a combination of a series of very steep 'humps' in the road, and a severe head/crosswind. I may use a smaller large chainring in the future. I have nothing of note to say about the derailers. The bottom bracket is still spinning flawlessly (as is the headset, both of which are my first two replaceable-sealed-bearing devices. If they hold up for another couple thousand miles, I'm totally sold).

My brakes were less effective than I would have liked. If I tour again on the Roadrat, I'm going to try to set it up with discs, or possibly even V's. I like a minimum of fidgeting and a maximum of effect, and the cantis failed to meet either of those criteria.

I put the wheels through plenty of abuse- the hubs shrugged it off, the rims less so. A few days into the ride, when I was having problems with flats, I let my rear tire get to low, and then hit a pothole. This bent one lip of the wheel, which I had to bend straight again with a crescent wrench. To its credit, it hasn't been a problem again.

Speaking of flats, however, I'm very disappointed with my 35mm Armadillos. Oh, sure, the outer tread will resist just about anything, but the sidewalls may as well have been made of paper, as goathead thorns pricked through them countless times. I still love Armadillos in 23/25/28mm, but steer away from the super-wide models. I may still give them life on a 29er as a street tire.

My cheapo Trans-It panniers worked just fine, athough one buckle is AWOL. Their combination of size and variety of pockets is just about right for my preference. I can't speak for their water resistance.

The Brooks rode well; I used only boxer-briefs and cargo shorts/manpri's for the entirety of the trip. My Twin Six jersey is still my favorite, but I want to try more wool. I ground a bunch of tread off the bottom of my SIDIs (and AFAIK the tread is not swappable on my model), but they did their job well.

A small battery-powered light is not sufficient for night rural riding (and I did far more night riding than I had planned on), and, in the future, I'm going to strongly consider something like a Nite Rider. I'm glad I had that ridiculous rear light, but something tiny and intense might have worked just as well. My solar panel, rated just enough to charge my IPhone, on paper, was not sufficient in the real world. It requires very direct sunlight over the entirety of the panel to provide enough power, and I didn't get that often or for many hours of the day. Strapping the panel over the rear of the bike like a saddle was not enough, as one end of the panel wouldn't always be in direct sunlight. I'm not giving up on solar power, but that specific panel didn't work well enough.

My food situation was alright, but not great. Cooking grains for every meal fills you up, but its not much in the way of variety, and veggies were hard to come by in the areas I was riding in. I brought two stoves- a Jetboil kit and a Colman stove, and ended up using the Coleman almost 100% of the time. Fuel is easier to find and cheap, so I wasn't afraid to consume it, its bulk and weight makes it easy to stand in dirt or against wind (with a pot full of water sitting on top of it), and though not as powerful on a pound for-pound basis with the Jetboil, it cooked better overall. Luckily the Jetboil and its fuel didn't consume much volume or weigh much, or I may have jettisoned it.

Also, a thought on carrying weapons to defend yourself on a bike: Overall, they're not much use. I had pepper spray, a folding knife (for utility, but I'm including it), and a slingshot (I found it when I was packing/shipping/selling my stuff, and packed it as a toy). In the one time I felt like I needed something (when I encountered the dogs), there was absolutely no time to dig into my top bag for my pepper spray or knife (nor would I want to have done anything but get away fast, as I did), and the slingshot was in the bottom of a pannier. If you're reading this, planning a bike trip, and feel the need to defend yourself, my suggestion is either a) don't bother, or b) clip something to the top of your toptube or stem- either a stick, or a can of pepper spray with the pin pulled (or be ready to use your teeth).

I think that's it for now. I may edit it at a later date.

I find it interesting that I still remember so much of the trip with such clarity.