Puddletrack

Tags

fun, life, personal

Too bad my fat bike doesn’t float.  The tires are large, but they are not buoyant.  Here in northern Illinois, we are having one of the wettest Spring seasons on record.  For off road bicyclists such as myself, that can be frustrating.  It’s not good for most people.  The trails closest to me are next to a river, are built on and in between berms that are swampy even during the dry seasons.  For more than a month, they have not been rideable.

Some people don’t care, judging from the damage to the trails.  This picture was taken a few days ago.  It’s obvious that there are quite a few people who just rode through it.  The section pictured is a the bottom of the trail head connector.  I am surprised that it wasn’t blocked.  When I rode last night, it was still a quagmire though no longer covered with water.  I turned around and entered the trail from another connector.  Riding mud is not fun, plus it screws with a bike.

We had a few days without much rain.  Most of the trails were in great shape last night, although I still had to be careful, had to avoid some trails.  Last Sunday afternoon, I rode another trail system in the Chicago area with some friends.  They were scary difficult, rocky with steep and twisty descents/climbs.  My new bike, a carbon Salsa Deadwood SLX with 29+ wheels (2.6 tires, for now) helped give me the confidence to at least attempt everything.  Three hours of riding and I was satisfied, not as tired as I could have been.  Even though off road cycling has not been a viable option for the past month, I have been riding.

My fat tired bike has proved to be an entertaining riding option.  Pretty much out my front door are forest preserves and rails-to-trails paths, so I have been riding 4-5 days a week on those trails.  There is an old landfill a few minutes away, now a recreational area, that has added an option for climbing.  There is more resistance to riding paths, especially on a fat tired bike, so I feel stronger now than ever.  I ain’t no stud, but I ain’t no slouch either.  Of course, my roadie friends have helped me a little.  We have ventured out on the path the past two Wednesdays, rode to a little craft brewery to participate in their trivia night (third place the first time we trivia’d), then trekked home with lights.  It’s tremendous fun!

When it rains on my cycling parade, I make my own parade, I guess.

Another gully washer this afternoon.  Rats.

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Goodbye?

It’s time.  My Specialized Camber FSR 29″ has been a great first serious mountain bike, but its size medium frame has always been a little too small for my 6’1″ body.  I am still hedging a bit, but I listed it for sale this past Saturday, with links to the Craigslist ad posted on several mountain bike group sites, as well as FB Marketplace.

I picked up the bike from the shop last Friday afternoon, paid them $200 to assemble the components from the old frame to the warranty replacement frame.  The bike now has a new medium frame, new drive train (cassette, chain, chainrings, rear derailleur), new handlebar grips, seat, and tires that were new last August.  The shocks have been serviced and rebuilt, as has the bottom bracket.

If the bike fit me, I would keep it.  It’s ready for the season and it looks very good.  The picture was taken last Saturday morning, before I washed up the tires for the listing.  I love the bike and just spent a little over $450 to get it ready to ride.  Instead, I am crossing my fingers that someone will buy it for close to the $1500 asking price (my basement price is $1000).  The money I get will go towards the purchase of a new bike that will fit me.

Someone offered me $750 last night, told me that a bike blue book website says it is only worth close to $800 in good condition.  I told him I would take $1200 since the site doesn’t take into account a new frame and components that were upgraded to Rockshox and SRAM GX from the Suntour suspension and low end Shimano shifting components the website used to calculate the value.  $1200 is a very fair price for this bicycle, as is the $1500 asking price.  There are also two people coming by to look at the bike tonight.  I am not going to give the bike away and will simply keep it if I don’t get the price that I want.

Flow

Tuesday night was one of the best evenings yet this year.  I visited SWK for a single track ride, the chance to ride in shorts and tee shirt on trails in pristine condition something I just could not pass up.  Weather for the next few days was not predicted to be dry or favorable.  What greeted me when I arrived for my ride was a packed parking lot, with one empty spot next to where my friends Greg and Carrie were parked.  I saw other vehicles I recognized.  It was near certain that I would encounter friends somewhere along the ride, would not be riding alone.

Sure enough, a few minutes in, I came up on a group of 8 friends, all regulars and a few I have not seen since last November.  We were all pumped to be riding together again, on such a perfect evening for a ride.  Perhaps adding to my enjoyment as I joined them was the feeling that I am faster right now, a combo of the added strength from riding the fat bike since last January as well as a lighter body and carbon bike.  I am flying, maybe a little more confident.  During the course of the ride, only the leader was in front of me, and many riders waved me to the front as we entered a trail.  It was a good feeling, one I haven’t had for a while.  Oh, I have had my moments prior to now, but not like it is right now.

My friend is NOT going to get his full carbon Superfly back!  I wish I could keep it.  The speed is an awesome feeling, although with the added speed and ability to clear berms is a difference in handling.  Faster means I need to react quicker to an upcoming obstacle or tight turn, dig in a bit more.  As I get used to the bike, I am beginning to learn how to handle it.  I have yet to find a flow, something that I will need to ride with the faster riders (which may or may not happen), stay off of the brakes and let the bike go.  I had to be conscious of letting the bike slow before a descent and only feathering the brakes on the way down, if at all.

The ride ended in the parking lot with a bunch of us gathered in our chairs behind a friend’s truck, enjoying the stories from our ride well after the sun had gone down.  It was indeed a sublime, energizing evening.

I love to ride.  Have I ever said that?  🙂

 

Sunny and Single Track

In my world, every Saturday, every weekend, should have the same forecast — sunny and single track.  I am nearly 58 years old, yet nothing brings out the boy in me more than days like yesterday.  Even yet this morning, I am still energized, still buoyed by the ride.  It was one of those days where the plan went right, even when there were hiccups.

Sun greeted me as I pulled back the drapes and opened the bedroom blinds, as is my routine.  Prior to bed, the furnace had been turned off, the sliding glass doors in the living room and kitchen pulled open enough to let the fresh cool air fill the space in my small home.  There is a simple pleasure to pulling back the warm covers to be greeted by the coolness of a fresh morning, the warmth of the bed still with me as I pull a shirt over my head, shuffle to the kitchen and put the water on the stove to boil.  More often than not, I listen to some quiet music at the kitchen table while the honey sweetened oatmeal soothes me.  I checked the weather from my phone to confirm the day’s weather would be as promised — cool in the morning, 70 degree temperatures by the afternoon.  Satisfied, I determined my plan for the day would be to wait until the afternoon to ride, when I could ride in shorts and tee shirt, the damp from the previous days’ rain gone from the trails.

It was glorious.  In the morning, I performed the needed tasks and chores for my weekend, drove my son to work (he no longer has a car), then hit the trails.  My friend, Jim, has loaned me one of his two full carbon Trek Superfly mountain bikes to ride while I wait for a replacement.  I had picked up his soft tail bike a few days earlier, found it needed a few tweaks to be fully rideable — clean up the pads and rotors (the geese would have been following me through the woods), refresh the charge in the rear shock, adjust seat height.  The bike is indeed full carbon, including the wheels, so it’s a light ride.  I was glad for a chance to ride the first few miles of trail by myself, since I had to get used to handling a faster and lighter bike.  When I met my friends Greg and Ernesto on one of the trails, I was ready to go.  While it still took some effort to keep up, I did keep up, even cleared the most technical trail without a single dab, something I have only been able to accomplish once on my heavier aluminum Camber.  I witnessed Greg ride off the side of the trail to avoid some hikers, miraculously avoiding a fall down the side of a berm into the swampy waters.  He was not feeling well the rest of our ride.

I did visit the bike shop in the morning, as I had only talked to them over the phone prior to yesterday.  I wanted some more information on the frame replacement for my Specialized Camber FSR.  They really hadn’t given me much information at all, have not told me what is going to be involved.  When I brought my bike in to ask about the warranty, I had removed the chain and had installed a few new drive train components, so I wanted to know what was going to be reused.  I also wanted to know if they would be installing the new cassette and chain that I had.  They didn’t really know much at all, so I left them the new cassette and chain, assuming that the replacement frame was going to be frame only (I assume that is the case).  I asked them once again to consider asking Specialized to send a large frame instead of a medium, a request that was instantly rejected.  I didn’t fight and told them I wouldn’t fight them, but did ask them if it would be better if their customer was 100% satisfied instead of feeling placated.  The response was a weak grin, as if I was being a jerk for asking.  I don’t feel like a jerk for asking.  I work for the factory, know it can be uncomfortable asking them for a little more, but also know it’s more important to make sure a customer is satisfied with the outcome than to simply do the least.  That’s the sure way to lose a customer.  Do I think I will go elsewhere?  Not likely, but I sure would like to see my shop try to do a little more for me.

It was still a sunny day.  It was a wonderful ride, the pleasant burn of fatigue in my legs a welcome reminder of an effort that was never an effort.  When I got home, I showered, ran an errand, then enjoyed a pleasant dinner with a pretty neighbor who is becoming a nice friend.  I walked her to her front door after dinner, early, then hit the sack around 10 PM.  This was an early morning, since I took that neighbor friend to the airport at 5 this morning.

Enjoy your day.  May your day be sunny and single track!

Bittersweet

My Specialized Camber FSR, last year.

The ride was a fun jaunt , a blessing as it was a beautiful day to ride with good trail conditions, something we don’t get much of in late December here in northern Illinois.  I was riding with Greg and Ernesto, two talented riders and friends.  They had been joking about how I don’t shift — my preference is to muscle over the tough stuff.  It slows me down.  Greg especially likes to bust my chops, his way of teaching me a few things about riding a mountain bike.  The guy is very good on a bike and each time I ride with him, my skills improve as he shows me something else to help me out.  During the ride, I was intentionally shifting before hitting a steep section or roots.  The shifting didn’t seem quite right.

We were about done with our ride, riding a semi technical trail called Wildcat on our way back to the parking lot.  I shifted to an easier gear to get up and over a large root, a frightful clunk from my rear derailleur as I pushed to get over the root.  I braked immediately and hoped that the derailleur hadn’t been bent or sucked into the rear spokes.  Nothing of that sort had happened, but the chain had slipped over the rear cassette (the gear cluster).  I pulled the chain out and back in place, but noticed that the derailleur wasn’t aligned right.  Sure enough, I climbed back on the bike and turned the pedals, only to have the chain slip over the rear cogs again.  I had no choice but to heft the Camber over my shoulder and tote it back the short walk to the parking lot.

My friends looked my bike over, were puzzled over the position of the derailleur.  It wasn’t bent nor did the hanger look bent, but it was clearly positioned too far inward, almost in the spokes.  Normally, I would have dropped the bike off at the shop on the way home, but I was severely cash strapped at the time and my credit card was screaming from a recent expensive repair (as I am accustomed to) on my VW.  The mountain bike would have to wait until I could give it attention or I had the money to have the shop repair it.  My gut told me that it was real possible this was going to be bad.

January came with new snow and the fat bike purchase, a deal so good I could not pass it up.  While my friend sold me that bike with the understanding that I would pay him as I could, it meant that extra money would go towards that bike and not towards fixing my Specialized Camber FSR mountain bike.  I rode the fat bike with the idea I would replace the shifting components on my mountain bike in time for Spring single track.  That is what I did.  I ordered new 36T chain ring (it’s a 2 x 10 set up), chain, cassette, SRAM GX medium cage derailleur, derailleur hanger.  The chain ring was replaced first, bottom bracket cleaned and inspected.  I installed the new derailleur hanger, then the derailleur.

The new derailleur wouldn’t align, hung the same way the old one had the day the bike broke down.  Uh oh.  I set the bike aside.  When my friend, Jeremy, came over last Saturday for a ride, he took a look at the bike… and saw the issue immediately.  Jeremy is a good wrench, an experienced bike mechanic.  The frame on my Specialized was cracked at the chainstay, twisted enough so that the derailleur would not align.  I took my bike to the shop that afternoon (two weeks ago), hoping that the lifetime frame warranty that the manufacturer advertises would be honored.  I needed it to be.  I can’t afford to have it fixed right now, or worse need to buy a new bike.  Recent news of a $4000 federal tax debt, coupled with upcoming property taxes and other expenses have me financially challenged.  I don’t need another debt.

The shop manager didn’t paint a rosy picture when he looked at my bike.  He inspected it to see if a frame pivot bearing had seized and had caused the frame to stress.  The bearing wasn’t seized, but he prepared me for possible bad news from the manufacturer.  They may not honor the warranty.

No news from the shop on Monday.  I waited until late Tuesday afternoon, then called the shop.  They told me the warranty claim had been submitted.  The Specialized rep had not responded on the warranty claim yet.  I was worried.  My bike model has been discontinued, so frame parts may not be available.  Would they replace the entire frame?

I received an email from the shop yesterday afternoon, with news that the frame section could not be replaced, as I had expected.  Specialized had to send a whole new frame as a warranty replacement.  I would be responsible to pay $200 for the labor to put the bike together.

 

This was a pic taken not too long after I bought my Camber.  The small fit should be obvious.

Good news!  There was one concern, however.  I wished the shop had called to get my OK.  Why?  My bike is a medium frame, has always been too small for my 6’1″ body.  When I bought the bike, I was too excited to finally have my first new bicycle, my first new “expensive” bicycle.  It was my baby, the bike I had waited decades to be able to buy.  Even though it felt too small from the first day I rode it, I didn’t take it back because I was too much of a weenie to wait (or have to pay more money) to get a large frame.  So, when I received the email from the shop yesterday about the replacement frame, I immediately replied and asked if the replacement frame could be a large instead of medium.

When I didn’t get a reply back, I called.  The shop told me that Specialized would not give me a large frame.  It had to be the same size as the frame it was replacing.

*Sigh*

Rather than make a stink, I thanked them and ended the call.  I am disappointed.  Instead of feeling 100% satisfied, I am feeling a little disrespected.  At the moment, I feel like I just had my hand slapped for making the request, like I was asking too much of them.  I shouldn’t feel that way.  Why not try to make me 100% satisfied?  I am a loyal customer and one who will eventually buy more bikes — but I am not feeling so good right now, when I should be ecstatic.  Instead, it’s a let down.  I am contemplating selling the replacement bike as soon as I get it (hopefully, next week), use the money from the sale to buy a bike I will be happier with.  One that fits me and allows me to fully enjoy my rides.  I don’t like the idea of making payments on another bike right now, as it will stretch my budget beyond what I am comfortable with.  Heck, I don’t even have the $200 for the labor charge I am going to have to pay!

I have needed to replace my Camber due to the fit problem.  The seat tube has to be extended so far that it often falls during the course of a ride, taxing my knees and affecting performance.  Maybe this is the push I needed to get my cheap butt out to buy a new bike, despite whether I can afford it or not.  Specialized is fantastic, but there are other manufacturers out there who will want my business.  We shall see.  Santa Cruz, maybe?  Salsa?  Trek?  Pivot?  Ibis?

Go Away, Mister Lazy

Couches are a tool of the devil.  Rain clouds sometimes blow away without unleashing their wetness upon the landscape.  Spandex is useful even when worn under cargo shorts and a long sleeved tee, yet you can’t cover up dorky.  Cloudy fatigue more often than not is transformed to clear energy when fun exercise is applied.  Life has a  darker grey side and a bright side — and the bright side is always there if you look for it.

There you have it, my words of wisdom and elderly knowledge, relearned or reapplied yesterday evening.  I arrived home from work yesterday evening, a bit depressed by the clouds that loomed overhead and the promise of rain to fall.  Earlier in the day, group texts from my mountain biking friends indicated that the trails were in fantastic shape.  My stomach groaned at me, begged me to be fed, even as my brain told me to take a nap.  Even a cruise on the forest preserve paths close by seemed to be a no go, the looming clouds and cloudy fog in my head an indication that laziness was in order for the evening.  I didn’t want that at all.  I could feel a bit of depression sinking in, common sense fighting to take control of the lazy devil on my shoulder, so riding would energize me and turn my mind back to the bright side.

Part of the cloudy outlook comes from waiting for a factory warranty decision on my Specialized Camber FSR mountain bike.  It’s my baby, a prize of sorts, the first and only new bike I have been able to buy in my 30 years of cycling.  When I discovered the cracked frame last Saturday, my heart sunk even with the knowledge of the factory lifetime frame warranty.  It’s a limited warranty, which my shop reminded me of as they inspected my bike and checked the frame pivot bearings for seizure.  They are not seized, but he told me that the factory could claim they had been seized when the frame cracked, voiding the warranty.  I wanted to argue, wanted to ask why an aluminum frame would crack even with a seized bearing, but hard knocks has taught me to keep the arguments to a minimum.  Good will wins more often than an argument.  I called yesterday afternoon to check on the status of the bike, was told that since the shop is closed on Wednesdays there likely wouldn’t be a decision on the bike warranty until Thursday.  It sucks to wait.

On the bright side, a good friend offered to let me borrow his mountain bikes.  He has a hard tail Trek Superfly with carbon frame and wheels, as well as a full suspension carbon Specialized Epic.  The guy is a triathlete, rarely rides his mountain bikes because he follows a training schedule.  He had bought the Superfly when he rode Leadville a few years ago, the Epic just because he had a girlfriend who wanted to ride single track now and then.  I texted him after I pouted on the devil’s tool for a few minutes and observed a few breaks in the clouds.  Go for it, you will be glad you did was what I told myself.  My friend texted me back, encouraged me to take both bikes if I wanted them, gave me the security code to his garage door.

He also asked me to not do anything obnoxious if anyone was looking at his house.  He just listed it for sale.  I am not sure why my friend would be worried about my behavior (wink wink).  I didn’t tell him how I was dressed, as that might have scared potential buyers away as well, spandex ‘capri’ bib shorts underneath ragged old cotton cargo shorts, long sleeved tee underneath a black zip up ski vest.  I told my friend that there indeed had been people looking at his house (a fib) and that I advised them he would knock $10,000 off the price if I could live with them for free.  🙂

I rode the Trek, immediately amazed at how light and responsive the bike felt underneath me.  It took a few minutes to get used to the handling.  The lighter bike was faster, but the tires are set up more for a gravel type of race and not for dirt.  Once I got used to digging into the corners, something I take for granted on my heavier aluminum Camber, I was having a ton of fun.  It doesn’t hurt that my legs are already ready from the past few months of regular riding on my fat tired bike.  My friend, Roy, had arrived at the trailhead at the same time and was riding with me.  Halfway into our ride, he stopped and told me that he was having a hard time keeping up with me.  I had dropped him a few times by then, aware that he was on his third day in a row of riding and was fatigued.  It boosted my mood (and ego) though — normally Roy is the one who is taking it easy for me!

I arrived home, my energy and mood elevated, the grilled chicken and veggies for dinner even more tasty.  The exercise relaxed me so much that I fell asleep texting a friend, who had slipped a bag of peanut butter cookies in my mailbox while I was out riding.

Lessons relearned, old knowledge renewed.  Mister Lazy did not prevail.

Bike Beginnings

I have talked plenty about how cycling has provided a therapeutic balance to my life and soul and body, rescued me in a sense, a type of salvation.  When life seems tough or I am not feeling physically well, riding brings me back to focus, calms me in a way that brings healthy clarity.  In a sense, riding also allows me to reach inside myself, find that place where I can approach my maker.  I believe that my existence is truly my soul.  Riding brings me there like nothing else can.  Cycling is God’s gift to me, one of the ways he is able to communicate with me.

The past few days have required calm and clarity.  Stress was affecting me physically, enough that I was concerned.  I need to think through the new challenges with a wisdom that I really don’t possess.  Thankfully, I have a strong relationship with my father as well as solid friendships that provide support.  When it comes down to it, though, the decisions are mine to make — although the decisions also involve my son and his mother, my ex.  There is temptation to simply appease them, bandage the new wound caused by the loss of my son’s car.  If the decision is a quick fix, it’s not likely going to be the most sound decision.  My ex wants to buy him another car.  That’s the quick fix.  But I have a large federal tax bill to pay, property taxes due by the end of May.  Adding another payment to an already tight budget will not be a wise decision.

It took some slowing down to bring me to the point of knowing that waiting is the best approach.  My body and mind had to slow down together to come to that point.  Cycling and prayer has done that for me, I think, as well as spending some time with a good friend.

Monday night, as I felt the affect of the previous day’s elevated stress and blood pressure, I skipped the opportunity to ride.  Instead, I opted to ask a neighbor to share the fajitas I had slow cooked all.  It wasn’t an evening of woe is me soul baring, it was an evening of enjoying the company of a friend, my body telling me quickly by the way I felt as I relaxed.  It was the right thing to do.  Funny, as I arrived home from work on Monday, I prayed and knew what to do that evening.  It didn’t take a bike ride for me to be able to listen.

I needed more, though.  My body needed to recover from the stress, even as I had began to relax.  Tuesday evening temperature was in the upper 40s to low 50s, so I set out on my fat bike for a ride through the area forest preserves.  Most of the crushed limestone trails were dry enough for an easy ride.  As I warmed up, I felt the ease of pedaling and my pace picked up.  Halfway into my ride, I crossed paths with two experienced riders, exchanged pleasantries as they admired my 9;Zero;7 fat bike (it’s a conversation piece as it’s a little unique).  The pace was brisk and I was up to the task, my attitude coming up the more we rode.  After a few miles, they headed in another direction as I broke off in the direction of Mount Hoy, a former landfill that provides a progressively steep and moderately long climb.  I chose the path up the side of the landfill rather than the grassy slope for my climb, the satisfaction of pushing through the last 20 or so yards giving me energy as I crested the top of the landfill and was treated to the awesome clear view from the top.  I circled the top a few times as I caught my breath, then streaked down the grassy slope on the other side, exhiliarated by the speed while I rushed towards the bottom.  I cruised home through the woods and over the river bridge that had once served as the entrance to a franciscan sisters prayer retreat.  The energy of the ride buoyed me the entire rest of the evening.  I could already feel myself beginning to process more clearly the thoughts I need to address right now.

Last night was awesome, shirtsleeve and shorts weather, a welcomed day after the winter temperatures.  Trail reports for the mountain bike trails I ride were that they were in prime condition.  After making some adjustments to my bike, I loaded my bike up on the bike of my car, went to the trails.  I was greeted there by Deni, an enthusiastic 19 year old who loves to ride with my friends and I.  He and I rode for an hour and a half, once again at a strong pace, the rush of the singletrack adding even more energy.  Once again, I came home feeling even better.

Cycling.  Friends.  All gifts from God.  All ways he speaks to me.  I feel it, understand more, thankful that I am able to listen.

Frosty the Bike Man

Tags

fat bikes, life, middle age

Once upon a time, in SHenry’s land far far away, the prince of SHenry land used to throw care to the wind.  No matter the weather, the prince would ride his trusty steed, undaunted by wind or rain or sleet or snow.

He’s beginning to rethink those days.  What in the world was he thinking?

It’s definitely winter in SHenryland.  Never one to complain too much about weather that always happens, I am OK with the single and sub zero temperatures as of late.  With the addition of a fat bike to my stable, I am downright giddy when fresh snow has fallen overnight.  However, I don’t throw on the layers of clothing required without a thought, like I used to.  My mind tells me to hold my horses, it’s cold enough out there to cause body parts to fall off.  At my age, body parts are at a premium.  Said body parts may not fall off in cold weather, but they have a tendency to remind me that it was freaking cold.

 

The sun was out today.  I had plenty of time available.  However, the temperature was barely pushing 5 degrees.  Ride, you say?  Nay, nay, said the little voice in my head, stay inside in front of the fire, take a nap, eat some popcorn.  It really took a lot to resist that little pipsqueak in my brain, pull on the cold weather gear, get my princely butt on the fat bike.

Butt I did it.

Four pairs of socks, including a Goretex pair, with my Woolie Boolies on top.

Under Armor mock tee

Padded capri bibs (yes, I call the knee length ‘capris’)

Fleece lined tights

Fleece lined long sleeved jersey

Zip up fleece

Neoprene ski vest

Helmet liner

Full face gator

Insulted head band

Booties

Gloves

I swear that one of the reasons I have second thoughts about riding in the cold is that it takes such a stinking long time to get all that crap on!

It was glorious.  After three weeks of riding my new fat bike, I am still amazed at how easy it rides.  There is so much beauty to ride right out my front door.  It’s a blessing.

Nothing fell off.

 

 

First Love

Tags

lessons learned, life, personal

What did I ride before this bike came into my life?  I don’t remember, really, but I do know that I knew how to ride.  The Royce Union three speed banana bike was my first real bike.  That I know.  I was a proud seven year old boy.  I rode that bike to an early death, beat the snot out of it.. all without a helmet.

I likely have a little brain damage due to that fact.  No helmet meant that I saw stars, as well as lost a lot of skin and blood, many times while riding that bike.  It wasn’t the most safe bike in the world to ride, something I was destined to prove over and over again.  My parents bought that bike for my birthday, June 1, ready to attack the summer months of Sacramento, California.  We lived on the outskirts of town, in a new housing development with plenty of open fields, places to ride like miniature Evil Knievels.  The neighborhood game was a modified version of chicken, played in the middle of the street with boys lined up across from each other to form a gauntlet.  Each player had to try to ride their bike successfully through that gauntlet.  My banana bike had that cool little sissy bar in the back, a perfect handle to stop me.  The speed it took to try to make it through the gauntlet was my worst enemy — I was stopped suddenly, my forward motion launched me over the handlebars, my elbows and chin out in front of me as I hit the pavement.  I still have scars on my elbows from that crash, the skin hung from my elbows as I stumbled through the front door to show my horrified mother.  She knew the emergency room techs by their first names that summer.

I am also lucky that I was able to father children.  That shifter wasn’t exactly in the best position.  Ever heard of the term ‘racked’?  Any boy who rode a bike like mine knows the term well.  Just thinking about it makes me lose my breath.  Mom kept an ice bag close at hand and an ample supply of ice in the freezer.

Thus the love began, a love that hurt me, that kept me healthy even as the injuries healed, that taught me a few things.  I will always remember my first love.

Now… where is my ice bag?

I Roll Out My Fatty

This past Saturday was a gloriously clear, brisk, calm morning with low to mid thirties temperature.  For January, it was one of those gifts that any person who enjoys cycling must take advantage of.  Skipping a ride is not an option.  I didn’t.  After all, I was meeting my friend Jeremy to get the fat bike he sold to me.  That was another reason to feel the glory of the day!

I met Jeremy at his townhome around 9 AM, after stopping at Starbuck’s for a coffee and to kick back with a book.  We took a few minutes monkeying around getting the fat tires to fit the trays on my bike rack.  It was a trick to get the hold down bar on the rack over the taller 4.5″ front tire of the 9:Zero:7 fat bike.  We added straps on both wheels to stabilize the bike, so it wouldn’t roll off the rack when taking a turn.  Both bikes on the car rack, satisfied they were secure, we set off for the short trip to one of Jeremy’s favorite feel good rides, a prairie trail that meanders through the woods here and there.  It would be a nice test for the fat tired bike, as well as a good place for a easy conversational type of ride, the type of ride we seem to prefer when riding together.  My friend is gracious to me — he could tear my legs off if he wanted to, but rides to my pace.

I absolutely love the bike.  Riding a fat tired bike is a definite change from the dual suspension mountain bike that is my usual ride.  I won’t even compare it to the titanium road bike that is my road ride (harsh, but light and fast.. oops, I compared) or my steel hybrid or other rides.  Yes.  I have a few bikes.  When going up, I was astonished at how easily the bike negotiated the climb, the wider tread digging in.  Let’s just say my cheeks on my face hurt from smiling, not my other cheeks.  My other cheeks were very dirty.

Which got a comment from a random, very embarrassed woman at the restaurant we went to for lunch.  You have a very dirty butt she said to me in a very suggestive tone (seriously, she did).  Thanks, I get that all of the time was my reply, as the woman blushed from her comment.  It was true, my backside was so filthy that I had to wipe down the chair after I left, as well as my car seat after I got home.

Getting me to let loose of some money is a major miracle.  Today, there is not a bit of buyer’s remorse.  This purchase was worth it, the experience of riding unique, just as the bike is.  Buying it will mean adjusting my budget for the next few months, but the smile on my face is worth tightening my wallet for a while.