Dallas Center

 Anyone up for a ride to the Raccoon Trail to take the new section and loop back? Start early Saturday morning.--FB post Oct 18th, 839 am via mobile

Eric Crabb Without booze?

October 18 at 8:44am ·

Kelly Barnett How early?

October 18 at 8:44am ·

Christopher R Guevara ‎8 or 9 start. @Crabb, you can drink. If only there was a carb free way to put life into perspective safely

October 18 at 9:41am ·

Sam Auen again, I would love to join in, but 2 more farmers markets. then it is back in saturday group ride mode.

October 18 at 10:09am ·

Christopher R Guevara Be there in spirit

October 18 at 10:26am ·

Craig Lien Can we go to Dallas Center?

October 18 at 11:59am ·

Christopher R Guevara Waukee dallas center, the new trail part.

October 18 at 12:31pm ·

Teena Shineflew McIntire Yeah We might be up for going to Dallas Center. FUN! What time do you leave?

October 18 at 4:58pm ·

Christopher R Guevara I'd like to get rolling by 8 or 9am.

October 18 at 5:40pm ·

Stephanie Shearer ‎" If only there was a carb free way to put life into perspective safely" - like! :)

October 18 at 5:41pm ·

The text began later but Saturday's were paricularly good

706 am--"I'm riding with where you meeting Brad and Teena at? text 1
Replied at the beginning of The Missing Link and walnut Creek Trails
735 am--"I don't Know where that is I need an extra seat you have one?"

Strange request, but Craig had one and plenty of time to put it on by the time we got rolling.

Teena's were more interesting:
808am--"I think we are going to leave a little later.  Up late due young 2point Buck getting hit and was pretty banged up, then police shot him in my neighbor's yard and then gave it to him to process."

Not that Mary and I were moving quickly.  My damn left leg was killing me at the knee again.  Woke up Friday and it felt like I slept on it wrong and cut off circulation.  My commute to work was fine, strong and fast.  But as the day wore on the leg got worse.  I almost could not get my shoe on because I could not bend my leg.  The first pedal stroke home was a FAIL.  I could not.  Had to get a run for it and "worm the bastard up."  I have been walking like an old wounded man.  Good time to take the tandem out.

I chose our Cannondale tandem.  No racks, no bags and tires too narrow for a tandem.  700x25s I purchased for the Iowa Games.  Fast.  But today slow due to my bum leg.  The bike was last ridden on Memorial Day.  Tires were very low and the wheels were covered with spider webs.  Not a way to treat the pride of the fleet!  Our Fisher tandem was the two seater of choice this year for its racks and Ragbrai self containing ability.  I pumped the tires up and thought about hosing it off.

I told everyone that 830 am was the launch time.  The sun barely makes its presence known until after 7am so we slept longer than we should have.  I needed a high protein breakfast of eggs and sausage.  We were behind time.

I added the Cyclosound stereo to the bike.  Since my iPod is dead I used a Droid that my son gave me.  Tuneage is always good.

texting continued:
828am--"I'm heading to front row Will switch seat there"  Craig was able to go home and get a different saddle.  Apparently he broke the rails on his Brooks and purchased a Selle leather saddle for the wait on Brooks.  This one broke in the same spot.  So today he had to sport a "gel saddle for fat asses that are not used to bike riding.

Craig Lein's 520 with new saddle

We were almost ready.  Because of my leg I had to ride the tandem by myself to warm up.  Very very painful to ride a tandem with a leg that cannot complete a full pedal stroke.  I rode around the block a few times until I felt comfortable with Mary on back.  I do not know when we actually left.  I remember seeing 838 on a clock.  Craig texted us at 852 and I am not sure if we left by then.

Teena soon texted at 904am--"Fixing breakfast."  guess we will not see them as we were at least a mile into the ride.

We met Craig along the trail at the car wash across from Grand McDonalds.  He was sitting there chilling.  Anders Olson happened to be there too, walking to work.  he needs to fix his bikes but I applaud him for walking to work instead of driving.  With Craig with us we ventured further.

The Clive Greenbelt is either loved or hated.  My friends hate how it winds and the possibility of colliding with other trail users.  But I like to push my luck and speed through here.  Averaging 16mph is thrilling.  Keith from Bike World once tried to average 20 mph!  Crazy!

I handed Mary the phone after we exited the tunnel under Hickman Rd at 1013am.  "Text My Number '13.4'"  This was to mark the distance from our house to the beginning of the boring climb up Hickman Rd to Waukee.  Stokers are good for that shit.  "Hey Baby, handle it so's I can concentrate on keeping the bike moving upright."  Thanx!  She also handled the incoming text and volume control on the stereo.

941am--"We are getting bikes out"  Teena and Brad
949am--"Rolling" Teena and Brad.

We barely missed them.  They were taking the trail from QT to N Valley Dr and Walnut Creek Trail.  Close.

The ride to Waukee was dull except for conversation.  I hate these trails built on the side of highways but they are needed and useful.  Average age of bicyclists that we encountered was 80.  I forgot to stop at Walgreen's to pick up Aleve but this far into the game my leg was working more than it was barking.

We stopped at the intersection by the old trail head.  Mary had to use the kybo, Craig had to play Foursquare and I needed a moment for safety.  Got here in one piece but took an opportunity to sort things out.

The new trail is paved with concrete.  the first few 10ths of a mile were completed last year.  Unfortunately, when they completed the rest, concrete dropped off the construction equipment and left debris on the old section.  the west side of the trail seems cleaner. 

I feared that this would be a trail cut through the middle of a cornfield but was pleasantly surprised to see trees and bushes on both sides of the trail.  Some wind protection and something more to look at.

Intersections interrupt the flow.  They curve to make people slow down and stop.  All intersections were dug out for flood control and culverts were added.  Trail is paved over gravel roads.  Nice touches although I prefer to keep it straight.  Oh well, this may save lives.

We wanted to find a place to sit down and watch the Hawkeyes play Indiana.  As we rolled in, admiring the nice homes and lack of ghetto, we spotted an man riding with his son.  "Excuse me, sir, Is there an establishment in town?"  he affirmed our desire and told us to continue on the trail.  We found the Blue Moon Tavern or lounge right off the trail in downtown.

Nice bar with restaurant on the other side.  Opens at 11 on Saturdays and serves food til 2pm.  I had a grill chicken breast on a salad with lots of Tabasco sauce and a basal mic vinaigrette.  Craig had a prime rib sandwich and Mary some sort of wrap.  PBR tallboys were the drink of choice for my companions, I elected for Diet Mountain Dew and water.  One note of complaint, the soda machine needs to be cleaned.  It tasted like shit.

As we ate and finished we watched the Hawks beat the crap out of Indiana.  Teen and Brad arrived about 45 minutes after we arrived.  Good to meet up.  After eating and drinks they left to go to a friend's house in DC.  We were not more than 2 minutes behind them leaving the bar and were amazed that they got away so quickly.  It was like they vanished.  guess we take our time and fuck around too much mounting our spoked stallions.

Leaving we noticed families out for rides on the trail.  Good to see.  I did another saftey check and photos were taken.  The ride back was uneventful  we all agreed to do this again.  Clocking in at 24 miles or so this is the same distance as Polk City and much easier.  It is about the same distance as Cumming.  No lean to which is a bummer.

We stopped at Caseys in Waukee for Busch Light.  And then we stopped under I-80/35 for a beer break.  I broke my diet beer fast and had one.  Tasted great.  Here Craig located Kelly and others.  they were at Capital Pub and Hotdog.  We told them we would meet them at Water Works.  From the our location we could be in Cumming in an hour.

The greenbelt was ok.  Kinda like skiing with all the switchbacks.  Trouble occurred on the Walnut trail near McDonalds.  Although we worked out a system where Craig would drop back one time he was in the middle of the trail when we crossed a bridge with an oncoming biker.  The old man yelled at Craig, who was clearly in the wrong, but that bastard should nopt have been riding so fast into a curve that obscures the view.  "RIDE ON THE RIGHT" he yelled.  we laughed and later told him that the triathlon was over.  we should have told him to fuck off.  Not worth capitalizing fuck off.  But the appropriate response for assholes who ride too fast and hate fun.  Chill out.

At the bridge in Water Works we stopped for a beer.  as soon as we cracked open our Busch Lights a woman and her daughter and a friend appeared for photos.  I have seen many people hog the bridge for photos this season.  I think the scenery is blah, not enough color, but I guess the natural back drop is desired.  We offered to move but they said it was not necessary.  they were nice.  We took our own photos.

Craig's mobile device indicated that our friends had moved 3 blocks to the Locust Tap so we headed there.  Kelly, Abby, Brad and Calle ans Jon Cox.  Sam Aeun later appear, walked into the tap and the barkeep threw him a PBR.  I had a Hamms, tasted like shit.  Can't go wrong with Bushlight. 

Notice that no one used the bike rack?

Interesting that he allowed drinking outside.  As he should.  Too beautiful day to be wasted in a shithole.  Days like this are a precious resource that we unfortunately possess too few of until Spring.

We  did not stay long, Just a mile to our house or so, started dinner, then rode to Fareway for boneless pork rib meat.  It was dark when we left the store.

52 miles to Dallas Center and back.  Felt like 20.

A Beautiful Autumn Day and Ride to Cumming

Behind the altar at Cumming, St John's Cemetery

Needed 23 miles.  Needed to ride anyway.  Posting lewd videos of Turbonegro on Face Book.  Road bike action.  The Versailles was the only operating bicycle of that category.

Breakfast was before Church, perhaps between 840 and 915am.  Scrambled eggs and ground pork sausage, turkey bacon on the side.  I had two servings of the egg/sausage mix and a significant amount of bacon.  Only 1 lb of bacon shared among 4 people.  This was the only food I ate until after 6pm.  Iced tea to wash it down with.

Called Brad Overholser after Church, maybe 11:18.  He said to meet at Mullets at 1pm.  So I played on the computer til then.  And he was late which gave me a chance to drink some water at Mullets.  Not drinking enough of it at home on the weekend.

Yellow Cannondale jersey with underarmor.  Pearl Izumi shorts.  Had to wear fanny packs because there were no bags and limited pocket space.

Windy.  Marathon cleaning up.  Saw Stratford at tail end of sweeping course in Water Works.  Even Mullets was cleaned up after last night's Oakley Night Cap.

Old folks on hybrids.  Friendly. No people issues.  No one running us down.  No ON YOUR LEFTs.

Did not recognize a soul at the Tap.  Even the bartender was unknown to me.  Drank one can of Diet Dew.  First soda since Monday.  Brad had a PBR tall boy.  Visited the cemetery.  The wind was calm here. 

We paid our respects to the departed, tried not to desecrate.  There is a woman buried in 1900 whose husband is missing or still alive since 1821.  The statue of our Lord looks poorly painted in real life but this photo makes Him look 1000x better.

The ride back was nice.  Colorful.  Crowded, too.  had to bust a move around an older crowd.  One guy looked to be 90 years old.  On a black bike, slumped over he rode strong, all slumped over staring at his front wheel.  Very fragile looking when he mounted his spoken stallion but a strong rider on a windy day.  We passed him before the Safety Shack but never saw him again.

Long time spent at said roofed picnic table.  The area needs some TCL.  Many airplane bottles of booze, black writing on the wood.  Noticed how well made the path to the pisser was.  Much use this year.

We looped Water Works backside on return.  Camera could not do it justice.  No, phone camera sucked.  Asian family gathering in back.  Always a car somewhere.

So after 30 miles I got home.  Brad went to Mullets.  Mary had dinner almost ready.  A wonderful stir fry of green and red cabbage, carrots, red peppers and breakfast pork sausage.  I liberally applied Franks Hot Sauce (cayenne pepper) on mine.  Delicious!  thank you, Honey Bunny.  I was starving.  Had not eaten since 9am.  3 lbs lighter than I weighed after breakfast.

A Trestle Too Far

Yeah, I am going to rip off and bastardize Corneilus Ryan's novel.  I will even spell his name wrong.  What were his parents thinking when they gave him that moniker?

I extremely dislike the over use of the word "trestle".  High trestle, low trestle.  They named a trail after a trestle that no longer exists!  What is refered to as THE TRESTLE is not a trestle.  It is a bridge, a former rail bridge, not a trestle.  But I was not consulted.




memorial of the bridge in Arnhem


So this story begins the moment God said to his angels, "watch this!" and the Big Bang went off and the universe formed.  Fast forward some 2000 years after they nailed his son to a tree and we are at September 30th, 2011 AD.  (Common Error)

The Initiating Point was the Triangle Tap.  I have lived in Iowa all my life and there are certain sections of this State that are not Iowa.  The Hy Vee on MLK is one such spot.  It is a generic urban hell.  However, Busch Light was $13.99 a case, cold, and PFG frowns upon people parking bicycles with leaky coolers full of booze in the warehouse so I had to purchase said refreshment as close as possible to the Initiating Point. And while Brad and I pack our new wares outside on our bikes there was a "bitch betta hab my money moment" a few doors down.  Generic Urban Hell.  Much anger here.  It is Friday, relax!

With beer, ice and vodka stowed we went around the building to the Tap.  Brad got carded.  35 years old and ID is at home.  However, the younger bartender thought he was of age and I vouched.  The older one washed her hands clean of us and soon we had Absolute Citron shots and a pair of Boulevard Wheat.  And to further help them out we ordered brats, paid the extra 50 cents for kraut, and ate them on stale buns.  TT not known for fine dining.

Craig, Kelly and Abby were the first to arrive.  The latter two were planning to drive up north somewhere and intercept us.  Amy Reynolds stopped by to wish us off and safe journey.  Mary was next then Chris Mace, who had his birthday the day prior.  Brad and Liz were the final additions to this pack of baggers.  We stayed there until there was almost 20 minutes of daylight left.  36 miles can be covered in the dark quite well.  We all had lights.

Graham met us on the InterUrban trail bridge over the Des Moines River.  This was our first stop, perhaps .5 mile from the Tap.  It is a trestle.  Everyone did a swig or 3 of Mace's Fireball.  Probably a 3 beer beer stop.  Graham had to work in the morning so he would only ride with us part of the way.  Amy rode with us here before returning home.

It was dark before we reached Sycamore Access.  Mary, Mace and Graham set a fast pace and the rest of us fucked it off.  Time for another break.  had to make sure everyone was ok.  Once again, a two or three beer stop.

My venture from here to the top of the dam was interesting.  When I approached the climb, I call this part of the trail, The Wall, I decided to put ye olde 520 in granny.  After all, I was carrying a tent, sleeping bag, spare batteries, some of those batteries heavy lead acid types, the case of beer and 8 lbs of ice, tools and enough clothing for a Winter Survival ride.  Most of this shit I did not use.  I never changed batteries or dipped into my "warm" clothing.

So I pushed the down tube shifter forward to place the chain into the 28T chain ring.  The damn thing slipped off and I lack sufficient speed to contiune forward momentum.  The bike tipped over to the left and I tumbled off the side of the trail.  Brad Overhauser was with me, everyone elese was ahead.  laughing, I got up and looked at the bike.  IT WAS PERFECTLY UPSIDE DOWN!!!  It looked like I placed it there.  guess it was too heavy to continue rolling over.  My immediate concern was that all my shit had fallen out.  This was not the case but a Busch Light can was punctured and I smelled Red Bull for the rest of the journey.  I never found the pierced can of RB.  Got the bike up, put the chain back on and climbed the wall.

I was expecting everyone to be in front of the Visitor Center, where we could sit on the guard rail, but they waited at the kiosk between the downhill/climb and the VC.  Another beer break and discussion of the next leg.  This is where Graham and Chris turned around.  Chris gave the Fireball to Mary.  I do not think we touched it again that night.

Since time was a precious resource that we did not possess much of I suggested at the beginning that we take the highway into Polk City instead of the winding trail.  A straight shot from the Visitor Center and if everyone stuck together we would be safe.  The lights on The Bridge shut off at midnight.  Most of the ride would be without daylight and speed on dark trails lowers.  Now was the time for a unanimous decision.  It was achieved.

Traffic was not too bad.  No honking or close calls.  One stop to regroup.  I do not think beer was part of this break.  My headlamp was missing and I think I used this ans an opportunity to dig through my bags to find it.  Well, I could have done done that at any stop.  My point is that I am uncomfortable without a light on top of my head or on my forehead during nocturnal riding..

At last we entered into the metropolis of Polk City.  We parked our steeds at Dottie's Landmark and ordered beer and food.  Nice to have a seat and drink something not from a cooler in a bicycle pannier.  Blue Moon was my choice.  Everthing else was the basic American lager/pilsner fare.

Davis, Kelly and Abbey joined us here.  There was a plan or an intention that those that could not ride all the way with us would start closer to The Bridge and meet us somewhere.  I suggested at the Oasis since it would probably be 24 miles from the Triangle Tap.  But heavy bikes and group dynamics (beer) tend to reduce mileage.  I think I got 20 text from people asking me where we were and when we would get there.  Davis was the only one that understood.  She knew how to iintercept.  Not that the others could not, some of them had to work the next day and had limited time and assumed that we would follow a schedule and reach our goal.  I apologize to my sister Patty, Teena and Brad and others that thought I would be able to complete this mission successfully.  A Trestle too far.

This is where my long day and alcohol consumption caught up with me.  My alarm goes off at 415 am, not that I get out of bed at that time, mind you, but I shut the bastard off and turn on the radio and light and lay back down until I hear the weather.  I worked from 630am until nearly 3pm, the last hour at my slow ass pace.  Sudafed, caffeine and adrenaline coursed through my veins all day until 3 pm.  Now it was approaching 1130 pm and seeing The Bridge in blue lighted glory was not going to happen.  A place to lay me weary bones down for the night was my new plan.

Brad O and I and few others outside Dottie's. 

I was the first to leave Dottie's.  Mary said i took off like "a bat out of hell" but I doubt it.  We were all getting ready to leave, I was the first to shove off.  2 miles to the Oasis.  Brad O and I rode there together.  I sat on the table, yoga style since it was cold.  Mary arrived and we split a beer.  I may have had one sip.  Then I pitched my case for setting up camp.

This would be a great place to spend the night.  But everyone said no.  Stupid idea.  John Q Law and the inevitable trail users early in the morning.  The next 5 miles were painful.  I wanted to sleep.  I needed to sleep.  Not only no room at the inn, no inn at all.  I always hated this stretch of trail anyway.  First, since I have ridden the neighboring county road for years my first thought was that this stretch of trail was unnecessary.  Second, that damn 30 mile headwind Mary and I battled on the tandem a few months ago was still a fresh awful memory that does not endear me to this place.  Third, no where to pull over and nap.  5 miles of non-stop forward miserable progress.  However, by the time I reached Sheldahl I was a bit better.  A mile or so to Slater and Davis' house.

Apparently, I got to the couch, took off my sandals and fell asleep sitting up.  Everyone else went to the take Down Bar.  Sausage Fest they reported to me the next day.  they closed it, not much of feat given that we got to town at 1am, but glorious anyway.

I awoke with a desire for water.  Mary was on the sectional next to me.  Various sleeping bags in the room.  Wandering outside I could not find my bike nor Mary's.  In the garage but I was too weak to fight with or easily open the door.  The possible noise frightened me.  There was a smoldering log, apparently there was a fire.  Two empty and two unopenned cans of Busch Light and a discarded pack of American Spirit smokes was further evidence.

Re-entering the house I was not willing to tear up the kitchen for a glass of water.  I went back to the couch and got closer to Mary and listened to everyone else snore.  Eventually we all roared back to life.  Davis made pancakes and we stumbled back to our bicycles and parted ways.  Thank you for being a wonderful host!

The ride back was beautiful.  Autumn colors just beginning.  The prarie section of the NST was outstanding.  We literally were surrounded by a sea of wild sunflowers.  Mary's purple jersey really went well with the scenery.  But I was slow on the jump and failed to film this coasting action and Mary was unwilling to ride back up so I could use the camera.  Kramer and Walter beat us to the punch in videotaping this and posting it on Face Book.

It was a good birthday, a great one!  I was able to spend it with Mary and our friends doing what we enjoy.  A heartfelt thank you to all that participated, whether you rode with us or waited in vain.  Next year the Bridge will be occupied!

Days Without Riding and Records Broken or Not

Sunday I did not ride.  I had chances.  Everyday there are opportunities to ride.  Just did not feel like it.  First responsibility was a mere half mile away from home.  Second responsibility I pawned off on Mary.  I was dead.

I walked that half mile to Church.  Big day there.  First outdoor Mass at the new Grotto.  We usually walk to Church anyway.  If I rode I'd need to park it somewhere safe from the 800 people expected.  Walk.  Nothing to worry about. 

However, I was on my feet all day feeding these 800 people.  That wore me out.  Did a lot of walking that day fetching things we needed to feed the parish.  Then I walked home.

Mary greeted me.  It was my idea to have tacos.  I purchased a ton of cilantro and needed to use it.  So when she asked if I wanted to go to the store with her I said no.  I needed to veg in front of the computers and not deal with people.  I think I even napped. 

My cold was still sapping my energy.  Friday and Saturday I did not take very good care of myself.  I had 138 miles for the week.  On target for new annual record.  Current month looking like 600 miles.  No need to to ride for a short list of groceries.  Mary and Dora could handle it.  Perhaps if it was a flat ride I would have given it more thought.  The 2 miles to Hy Vee has very strong gravity on a serious of false flats.  The real hills on that route are better than the false flats.  But I was not motivated.  A day without riding.

This was the fourth day this year, 2011, that I did not ride.  The others are:
 
Jan 16-feeling ill
Apr 2--out of town
Aug 6--no reason

Better than last year.  2010 I missed 2 days in February because I went camping with my Scout Crew.  3 days in March, 1 due to rain and the other two at the end of the month for unknown reasons.  I never recorded why.  Weekend days at the end of the month.  Must have had all the food we needed and enough miles not to care.  Memorial day was another day without biking.  Then the broken collar bone on June 2.  I managed to ride once the next week and a few more times the following weeks.  No century weeks until Ragbrai.  I stopped looking.  No point.

So on this rainy eve as I feel the virus killing my throat and think about the coming winter I have a chance to reflect.  4 days without riding this year.  Not too shabby for me.  Years ago my mantra was ride once a week every week to set mileage records.  This forced me outside on the bike at least once a week.  It adds up in the end.  But those were 3000 mile years.  Now I am going to hit 6000+ miles for 2 years in a row.

The new mantra is to get 100 miles per week every week.  So far I have done this.  I would have been doing this since 'Brai 2010 but Christmas week cut me down to 87 miles. 

I also noticed that I reached my goal of 5600 miles for 2011 near the end of September.  I still have 3 full months to add to this.  Bonus miles.  I set new monthly records for every month but July.  Strange that a Ragbrai month I cannot set a new record.  Less than 800 miles.  Blame it on the heat.  Always next year to beat 857 miles.  My goal was for 900, 115 miles short.

This month will not set a new record.  Not even close.  672 miles is the standing September benchmark set last year.  I will barely achieve 600.  Still, that is a lot of goddamn riding in a busy month.

So my conservative estimate is 7000 miles for 2011.  Another 100 to wrap up September.  500 for October (636 in 2011).  400 for both November and December.  I've done this before.  Keep at the 100 per week and pray the snow does not get too deep.

Riding Etiquette:Safety Nazis and the Death of Civility

Shout, shout, let it all out.  These are the bikers I can do without.  Come on, I am faster than you, come on...

Move bitch.  Git out da way, git out da way

This posting was inspired by Jason Boten, friend, biker, father and bass player.  He has noted several times about the lack of friendliness on the trails.  recently, he remarked on Face Book, that "Good morning" has been replaced with "Morning" or "morn".

Whatever happened to hello?  Howdy?  Nice to see you?  Beautiful morning, don't you think?  With increasingly rare exception, it has been replaced with "ON YOUR LEFT!"

I really do not recall when it happened.  Possibly with the "Ride Right" campaign championed by Ragbrai.  The number of cyclists and the explosion of trails and trail users necessitated communication.  Collisions or near misses.  But good intentions pave the road to Hell.

It is very important to be aware of your surroundings while cycling or running.  It is very important to let those in your path become aware of your presence and intentions.  But do we need to be so damn rude?  Maybe they are not intending to be rude.  There are those bikers that wait a lifetime to yell "ON YOUR LEFT"!

Strip it down to its core, "ON YOUR LEFT" means "hey you, I am about to overtake you so please hold your line and let me through."  But sometimes I believe some people use those three words instead of saying what they really mean, "GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY WAY I AM ROLLING THROUGH FAST."



Maybe people do not even think about it.  They merely utter at assorted volumes the call because it has been pummelled into their brains by Safety Nazis.  A catch phrase for the Give Me Convenience or Give me Death culture.

I usually say "howdy" or "good morning" or, if feeling particularly articulate "guten morgan".  If they appear to be of South of the Border descent, "con permisso".  What an elegant and civilized phrase the latter is.  With your permission may I pass?

This really a simple act. All that needs to be done is a simple announcement of your presence.  Be friendly about it.

Just to illustrate this point I would like to make a short film where people in non-biking settings shout "ON YOUR LEFT" as a greeting.  Perhaps get people exiting a church and while shaking hands with the pastor exclaim 'ON YOUR LEFT"  Or a business setting.  Or a host/hostest sitting customers at a restaurants.

Ride Right and the Further Escalation of Safety Nazis.  I recall the scene of leaving Storm Lake during the 2010 edition of Ragbrai.  We happened to get on route at 730 am.  Way late or too early to avoid the ugliest form of 'Brai.  The Herd.

The route was 6 bikes wide and taking both lanes of the road.  My mind recalls that the majority of the riders wore blue shirts.  Within a few minutes chaos hit.  3 water bottles from 3 different bikes fell onto the ground about the same instant.  Some of the water hit me.

Don't get me wrong, I can tolerate sloppy bikemanship after years of pilgrimages to the Cumming Tap.  But at 740 am Ragbrai Day 2 (for them, Day 4or 5 for me), this was inexcusable and dangerous.

Then that foul noise hit hard.  Like a fart at the front of the unemployment line it wafted through the herd.  "CAR UP!"  The visually impaired and the easily distracted do need this warning.  In the age of smart phones and ADD people display a lack of concentration of the task at hand, namely, riding a bicycle without colliding with other bikes, objects, people and vehicles coming in from the opposite direction.

But the Safety Nazis failed to establish how often "CAR UP" needs to be called out.  How far should the intervals be when the "CAR UP" alarm is necessary.  As any study of large group dynamics will reveal, there are many in any group of random people that feel it is their God given or genetic coded duty to scream "CAR UP" at volume.  Some people think that despite the person two bicycle lengths in front of them sounding the alarm that IF they themselves fail for repeat the call the incoming vehicle will wipe out 30 bikes and smear blood for 2 miles down the road.

On this particular morning it was my sister.  Patty is an up and coming cyclist.  The biking bug is firmly planted.  But her insecurity in control and unfulfilled maternal instinct  can sometimes be quite annoying.

Understand that my family, Mary, Quin and Timmy have had 3 wonderful days on empty highways.  We were the only bikes.  It was glorious riding from Des Moines to Storm Lake.  But now we were adrift in a sea of road hogs and bottle droppers and the fear that someone would get hurt was becoming unbearable.  I really needed a Valium.  And at the very moment that my anxiety was peaking "CAR UP"  was shouted into my ear by my only sibling after hearing it from 30 people in front of me.

The solution came as quick as a slap in the face.  Get the fuck out now!  As my right hand pushed the shifter forward and my left hand moved the rear, I told Timmy, my stoker on our loaded touring tandem, "we are going to bust a move now!  I am moving this pig ALL THE WAY TO THE LEFT, plant the wheels 2 inches from the white line and we will pass everyone we see until this crowd is long behind us."  "OK Dad", he replied.  And so we did.  Mary and Quin managed to keep up with us.  the only people that passed us were pace lines.  We even received a few compliments on our speed.  People on stick bikes are always in awe when baggers smoke the route.  Most importantly, we were in a safer position on the route and I felt better.  I felt bad for dropping Patty but sometimes survival takes precedent over other issues.

Much later on the Great Western Trail I explained this to her in a simpler way.  Just another bar to bar run/bike ride.  We left the Safety Shack and there were incoming bikes.  "BIKES UP" she shouted, again in my ear.  I think I may have slammed on the brakes.  My retort was thus, "There will be thousands of bicycle on the trail today, many "UP".  We can see them, please refrain from calling them out."  Curt but to the point and totally necessary.  I think she got the message.

Tire Troubles

There are only two points of contact that a bicycle should ever make with the road.  These are the front and rear tires.  One should pay careful attention to them before, during and after each ride.  Failure to do so can make for a very miserable ride.  Here are a few stories of my inability to check my tires before leaving on a ride.

(First, I have a photo of Brad Dagget with a duct taped tire on Ragbrai.  I think he rode it for two days.  Someday I will find this photo and post it.)

My story begins here...At the bottom of a hill with a dead tire.  It was Ragbrai sometime in the early 90s.  Where it was I can not be certain.  However, I recall it was in between two rolling hills.  Mary and I were on the Fisher Gemini tandem.  We used Tioga City Slickers 26x1.25 tires.  I loved them.  Smooth yet with sipes for blasting away rain.  I do not recall one ever going flat.  Also rubber, shit sidewall.  That is what ended my favorite tires.

How many miles I had on these I cannot recall.  My record keeping back then was not as dogmatic as today.  But the magic number of miles was reached as we were speeding downhill.

I can always tell when a tire is going flat or needs replacement.  The ride goes to hell immediately.  Sometimes slowly.  Gotta have a sensitive ass for this.  "Just does not feel right" is something that cannot be placed in words.  If one is lucky this "feeling" can be detected in time to replace said tire before becoming stranded.  The tread is reaching the life limit and beginning to flatten (not air loss) and lose its crown. 

But on this ride we did not have that luxury.  I felt it as we were passing someone.  More feedback from the road.  A little squishy when we brought the bike back to the right after passing.  Then the ride really got rough.  Time to pull over.  Yep, totally flat.  Sidewall gave out and the tube tried to go through the hole.  Quick inventory revealed that we were hosed.  Only a tube, some levers and a pump.  We needed a tire.  Back then a foldable tire for $25 would have been the lifesaver.  But I have yet to carry one and to this day do not.  Note to self: GET A DAMN TIRE TO CARRY ON RAGBRAI.

So looking stupid on the side of the road we stood watching everyone fly by.  Nobody asked us if we needed help yet alone stop to help.  And then a man on a Basso pulling a Burley touring trailer stopped.  Hammerman, he called himself.  He happened to have a Specialized Fatboy slick.  Just the ticket.  Miracle at $20.  We were back on the road.

Years later, perhaps 2006, that might have been the same tire that exploded on Kramer's ride to Ames.  We stopped for a safety meeting, large group dynamics require such, and a beer or two just before we were to hit 415.  Then the explosion.  Whenever I hear a tire blow up I look in the direction of my bike.  Sure enough, the boom was in the same area as the tandem.  Yep, sidewall hole.  We abandoned the ISU game/ride and did the dollar bill trick.  Wrapped the tube with the bill at the area of the sidewall hole.  First time I did this.

This lasted quite a long way.  Mary and I got almost to the trestle on the Neal Smith Trail when it gave up.  Called my sister Patty for the air strike.  New tire time.  A set of Serfas were next. 

I really wanted another set of Fatboys.  They lasted for a decade.  I found in my garage a wheel with a Bike World repair tag dated 1996.  I knew that it once held the Fatboy.  But Bike World was out of them and I was not in the mood to drive to Irwins or Rassy's.  Serfas had a 26x1.25 for a reasonable price.  If they crapped out too soon then I'd get the Fatboys or something better.

Crap out time happened at 1500 miles.  But most of those miles were loaded touring miles and sometimes on shit roads and often at high speeds.  Should I complain?  We got 2 Ragbrais out of them.  Mary and I got an outstanding, make that an outfuckingstanding and sublime ride to, during and back to DSM Human Bike In (Grinnel) a month prior.  Fast and overloaded on crap roads.

It was not really a crap out but a warning.  Ragbrai Day One.  We were about 2 or 3 miles south of Yale on the Raccoon Trail hiding from rain underneath the trees.  Not long after the rain stopped and we started rolling that same bad feeling hit.  We stopped.  Losing air.  Fortunately we were prepared having 2 tubes and a floor pump.  I we carry everything else might as well have a floor pump.  They come in handy and give a perfect excuse to stop riding and help someone.

Being very close to Yale we opted for pumping the tire back up and getting to the bar in Yale.  Changing tires is a messy process.  A beer and decent setting to do this work is preferable to trail side.  We had to pump it up twice.

It was a simple puncture as the solo hole in the tube revealed.  Save it for patching, we or someone may need it later.  Check the in the middle of the tire for the trouble maker and the inside of the tire before replacing the tube.

As simple of a repair it was did not leave us with feelings of absolute joy.  A dark cloud on the horizon was in the form of purple splotches on the tire.  Maybe we ran over some fresh paint in Panora when we stopped at the depot for a beer.  Lots of paint there.  But the front tire was free of this.  I tried to ignore this.

Literally we turned around at this point.  Joe Bridgeman called and suggested that we go back to Redfield and hook up.  Other baggers would be there that night.  Fine.  Safety in numbers and an opportunity to look for purple paint.

No purple paint at the depot.  Joe said that the tire was displaying the "warning" strip.  Crabb laughed and told us of his "green" tire.  Shit.  Day One with a dieing tire.

I checked daily.  No bike shops until we actually hit Ragbrai proper.  Bagging out to 'Brai always is an off route experience.  And once tasted, going on route sucks.  Somehow the tire lasted and still holds air to this day although we have not ridden the bike much since returning.  I was planning to purchase a new tire in Atlantic but ended up buying a spoke instead.  The mechanic did not mention the tire.  I had two rolls of electrical tap for "booting" the tire and I could always cut up the old tube for more patching.  Lucky roll of the dice.  I should have replaced the bastard.

I think we put 330 miles on the tire since the warning strip was exposed.

Enter the Kenda Qwest.  My Giant Via Raw came shod with these.  Kenda advertises these as "flat resistant" commuter and touring tires.  Crabb said he gets about 3000 miles out of them before they become flat prone.  I got 2500.

This is a weird one.  The bike sat inside all weekend.  Monday morning it has a flat.  Later in the week I replace the tube.  The first morning I grab the bike it has a noticeable lump in the ride, rear wheel.  I stop.  Tire not flat or low on air and nothing rubbing.  I continue to work.  Once at work I see it.  A damn bulge.  this does not look promising, err good promises.  I make it home and do a few errands on it.  I end up with 20 miles on it.  Got caught a block away from House of Bricks when the hissing started.

And to be a bad boy I rode the bastard home on the flat.  I felt like Franz finishing a race.  The tire was dead anyway.  Short 2 mile ride.  I stood up to keep more weight on the front tire.  As long as the tire stayed on the rim the wheel would be OK.  Not that I recommend this but I have been known to do this especially when I flat one mile shy of work in the morning.  Avoid bumps and take it slow and easy.  Faster than walking.  And who the hell am going to call at 130 am?  Or 530 am if I am going to work?  Never have damaged a rim but use your own judgement and I am not responsible for the destruction of your $1000 carbon fiber rims if you try to imitate me.

If you ride 700c wheels I recommend Bontrager's Hardcase and RaceLite tires.  Triple flat protection they claim.  I believe them.  These are what Trek puts on their mid to higher end bikes  Grey sidewalls.  Flay smooth black strip in the middle of the tire.  I've pulled chunks of broken glass out of mine.  The tire was not punctured.  HOWEVER, they have a limited life span.

Mary got about 3000 out of hers before I got tired of fixing flats.  My 35s actually had tread separation.  The black tread got a rip and cords were exposed.  The tire did not go flat.  Just a rough ride, something wrong here feeling and DAMN THE TIRE IS COMING APART!  I did not try to see how many miles I could get out of this but I think it had more than enough to get me home if I was in Cumming.  Sean from Newton can also attest to this ability of the Bontragers to hold air while exposing cords.  We have one pair left and they have 3000 miles on them.  I think I can feel the t6rerad wearing away on back.  Not as smooth as it used to be.

A Bontrager HC with a "patch".  Owner said he'd get 30+ miles out of before it needed attention.  he rode this for several 30 mile trips

Lesson here:  Check your tires before each ride, Replace if necessary.

Of injured Leg, Jordan Creek trail and East Village Bicycle Rack Testing

Took it easy over the weekend.  The week started out awesome.  Labor Day I rode to Altoona with Brad O.  Had my hundred for the week by Thursday.  Two major Hy Vee raids.  But something happened to my left leg.  Thursday morning it hurt to move.  Friday morning was worse.  Still rode to work and hit Hy Vee again.  Tried to drink away the pain that evening but I was too tired.  With the weekly goal met I decided to lay low until the leg healed.

At first I thought I blew my knee out.  Isolation the pain was not accurate or easy.  Every time I got up it hurt like hell.  Sore, stiff, useless.  Had to lean the bike severely to get on.  Yet riding was ok.  Don't push too much.  Ride a bike with gears.  Getting up and down was the worst.

I think it happened Wednesday night.  From my bed I got up and leaned forward to get something off my dresser.  The first motion I recall now was accompanied by a "shit that hurt" pain in the upper left thigh.  Overstretched.  And now that I have thought about it, my leg felt like it does after doing 6 sets of 17 stories of stairs at the Qwest Building for mountain hiking training.  Always two days later the legs refuse to move.  But I did not think of that at the time.  Nope.  I ignored the pain and tried to take it as easy as possible.

So Saturday's ride was an easy one.  Took the light weight carbon racer and 30 gears up Ingersoll to Zimm's and watched the Iowa/ISU game.  Stephanie Shearer's idea.  But every time I got up the leg hurt and was stiff.  Beer was no help.

Sunday morning was the worst.  REAL STIFF.  The 1/2 mile walk to Church was slow, long and painful.  Kneeling was not bad but getting up and down was.  Time for serious drugs and maybe a doctors appointment.

Quin wanted to treat Mary to breakfast at Mullets.  So while changing clothes I decided to take a skeletal muscle relaxer.  I need to say this now, aspirin, Tylenol, Motrin, Aleve and band aids are never available in my house when I need them.  I have to use the heavy artillery and then go purchase what I needed 3 days prior.  So I took the monster that previously would leave me sleeping on the floor and took the single speed to Mullets.

The first full pedal stroke HURT.  When my left leg was at the apex of the cycle IT SCREAMED.  This lasted for 3 rotations.  I made it to Mullets a little slower than normal.

We met Craig Lein there.  He still looked like he was on the road to the game, Hawkeye flag on his 520.  Craig had the meatloaf, Mary and I the breakfast burritos and Diet Coke.  No beer needed now. 

Since there were three of us now, I had a sufficient amount of people for my latest video project.  We rode to the East Village and filmed ourselves using the artsy fartsy bicycle racks.  At first I liked the idea of artist designing places to park and lock my bike to.  However, most of these suck as if the artist never rode a bicycle yet alone parked one.  My videos can be found on YouTube, "East Village Bike Rack Test" by Pyrtwist.  I probably pissed off some people for this but it had to be said.  My only regret is that I need to go back to The Locust Tap and reshoot the scene.  I have some good ideas.  If interested leave me a note.

Craig suggested that we next visit the 9/11 memorial at the Statehouse.  We rode up Grand.  Leg was fine.  Camera captured the scene and children bitched at the bandwidth I hogged while up loading.  YouTube, "9/11 Memorial at Iowa Statehouse" by Pyrtwist.

Since we were in BFE and I only had serious medicine, Mary and I rode to Walgreens for Aleve.  Here I received a phone call from Brad O.  "Wanna ride the Jordan Creek Trail?"  "Give me 30 minutes so I can get home and swap bikes.  Meet at Mullets."  Agreed.

To get to the Jordan Creek Trail we took the Gray's Lake Bypass, Riley, Walnut Creek trails.  A quick stop for beer at Giff's 5th St Pub and then side path action.

This was the 3rd of 4th time I had done this trail.  The first time was years before the mall was even conceived.  Last year Mary and explored it and decided that if we ever did it again it would be with the largest Sharpie money can buy.  The trail was poorly marked and confusing.  We'd find ourselves miles off course in someones backyard.  This time was much better.

The trail is now marked.  Salute to Central Iowa Trails or whoever placed the Central Iowa Trails signs/posts/markers.  Easy to read and we never got lost.  We circled the mall and headed home.  A 32 mile journey from Mullets.

My only complaint is that the intersections are rough.  They should smooth out where the trail meets the road.  Also, much of this trail is a side path along EP Tru.  I was very tempted to get off the trail and take the road instead, sparing my bike and body constant abuse.  This is one trail that the cheap hybrid with the cheap RST front suspension fork would be the weapon of choice.  I lived, we all lived and the bikes did not break.

Monday morning came too quickly.  But when I rolled out of bed my leg did not scream at me.  I could still feel pain in the upper left thigh but I was no longer limping.  Guess a xanax, 6 Aleve, 2 Fat Tires and 40 miles is therapeutic.