The Ginger on the Red Giant Stop Whining

Gave serious, serious consideration about riding to the High Trestle after work.  What the fuck, it would add another 80 miles to my day.  No big deal.  But as soon as I stepped outside 6200 park Ave my dreams ended.  Strong wind.  I fought the bastard all the way home.  Face up, go home and think about dinner.  I missed dinner yesterday.

Twasn't that bad of a wind.  I never pulled over to cry and beg for mercy and raise a fist at God and shout "is that the best you can do?".  Just strong enough to make me realise that any significant ride today would be be much longer than I really wanted or was able to do.  Vampire Wind it is.  Slowly sucks the life out of you.  So I slogged forward into it on my home contemplating my next move and then forgot about it.  Shit average speed.  Like I really work on average speed while commuting on a heavy touring bike.

Eventually I made it to the intersection of the trail and Flagg near the football field.  3 cars on both directions.  No big deal.  Patiently wait for them to get out of my way.  I don't think I unclipped.  Being aware that I may have to stopped I slowed down ahead of time and was prepped for track stand practice.

Soon enough it was time to cross.  I made a mental note to remember to downshift before intersections so I can accelerate quickly when crossing.  Forgot to do that this time.  Looking up I see a woman on a red Giant road bike.  Green shirt, not a jersey.  Sunglasses and pale skin.  She looked at my fat ass and said "You think they'd stop for us."  Expression of her impatience for lacking the right away.

Honestly, I have no clue how long she had been there.  Could have been there since 545 am as far as I knew.  But now it was nearing 4 pm and the traffic on Flagg was picking up.  Pre-rush hour.  I am at this intersection 5 days per week.  The only time I thought it sucked was when the Fleur Viaduct was under construction.  Traffic diverted.  The best time to be here is during flood season, assuming, of course, that Water Works and the trail is not deluged.  But that was not the case today.

Here I was bumming about wind and potential rainfall and barely noticing a need to wait a few seconds or 30 for all the cagers to clear out.  Maybe I am used to waiting a minute or less here.  And I certainly was not expecting or demanding that a car stop to let me through.  They have the right of way.  I have a stop sign.  And there have been plenty of times that I have blown through this intersection like a bat out of hell..

I really hate it when cars stop to let me cross.  Most of the time it is the last car out of 4 vehicles.  Kind gesture but I don't need your charity. Just get the fuck out of my way so I can resume with my life.  Instead of wishing that they stop and part the sea for my princess ass I wish that they were not driving in the first place.  Don't need your charity for I am not handicapped and I actually feel sorry for you driving.  But the rule of the road is right of way and when you lack it you either sieze it or wait for it or find a way around it.

I did not say anything to her.  I wondered, however, how bad of a driver she is.  Would this be the person so impatient at a gas station that she floor it to cut someone off and then lose control and ram the gas pumps and cause a fire?  How would she react to the stop lights in the suburbs?  Good grief, you can be a red light for 5 minutes.

But maybe she needed to use the kybo.  Who am I to judge?  Have not ridden a metric in her shoes.  It is just a few cars.  There will be a clearing soon enough on this warm March day.

The Bike Lebowski and "I dub thee the Fireball Bridge"

Just a quiet night at home.  Mary and I settled with The Big Lebowski on Netflix.  Netflix is all great at first then like any other rental place or kiosk you gotta drill deeper to find gold.  Mary insisted that had viewed the film before.  I have no memory of it, just images from television commercials pimping it.  But she was willing to watch it with me, God bless her. 

I had just opened a bottle of Rock Rabbit sweet red California wine.  Sweet reds can be such a gamble, some tasting like shit and need to be mixed like the bottle Leeper brought to the Safety Shack back in November.  Others are tasty such as Barefoot's and Jasper Winery's Bedhead Red.  Rock Rabbit was a $3.99 bottle in the clearance booze cart at Windsor Heights Hy Vee.  If it was bad Mary would not finish it and I'd have more.  The bottle said "chill out, chill your glass and change your life."  Heavy words for a $4 bottle of vino.  It tasted more of a cab than a cheap table wine which was alright and Mary approved.

Barely two sips into it and the phone rang.  Brad O.  Normally we just text.  Texting is leisurely.  Texting does not demand one's complete attention.  Phone calls disturb.  Most bad news comes from phone calls.  One does not need to turn the music down to text.

My Giant Via Raw, now stolen

"Dude, what you doing?"
"Enjoying cheap wine and Netflix, what about you?"
"At the High Life.  Your bike is here.  Your stolen bike."
"Is there a scratch on the right fork?"
"Yeah, it's scratched there, just one."

That was alot to take in.  The Giant Via Raw has surfaced!  Purchased on St Patrick's Day and stolen about the anniversary of my father's death.

"I'll be right there."

ALLLLARRRRRRRRRRRMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Profile shot of the thief waltzing in before stealing my bike, fucker.  Hoodie down.

OK, get dressed for being outside after 8pm on a warm March day.  Locate the owner's manual.  It contains the receipt with the serial number of the bike nicely stapled on the inside of the front cover.  I distinctly remember Steve or Justin from Bike World Urbandale telling me that and when the fooker was swiped I remembered it again.  But where the fuck is it?  Supposed to be in the red folder on my dresser.  And where are the police reports and contact info?  Does not matter if I match the serial numbers.  Mary found the folder.  The police info and case number were in it.  Clean the torn up room later.  Looks like a twister hit.

 Bike lock, cellphone, safety vest.  Flasher for the 520.  Leave guns at home, only an asshole dies over a bike.  Hoodies are unarmed, right?  Let the DMPD handle this one as I got all the evidence. 

Heart rate greatly increased.  Out the door.  Back inside and grab the computer for the 520.  What the fuck, these will be important miles.  Off I go. 

Plan?  No plan.  Get there and pray the bike is still there.  Is this a 911 situation or a police non-emergency phone call?  And if it is the latter, are they answering phones this late.  Just get there and if it is my bike lock it up and get cops somehow.  Damn, the non-emergency DMPD number was 3 phones ago.  Crap.

Ride toward Mullets and get on pedestrian bridge.  Mullets is hopping pretty good.  Quin is still at work.  No time to say hello.  Cross the bridge and a zig zag action to cross MLK and take first left.  High Life in sight.  Brad has a table outside on the upper deck area.  He points to the Giant locked alone on a rack. 

The shape is right but the rack is gone.  Easy modification.  Bike World's stolen white Giant has been spotted many times sans the front basket.  Fenders added.  Nice touch.  But the closer I got the more I realized it was not mine.  Too big.  Mine is the small frame.  This one is the medium or the large.  The dead give away was the distance between the top of the bottle cage and the top tube.  Mine had very little room which is why I installed an cage that the bottle enters and exits through the side.  This one had a normal bottle holder.  Yep, same scratch on the fork.  Must be a trait.  I calmed down and my heart sank.  So close.

"All these changes are easy to do."
"It is a different size."
'Yeah, maybe a frame stretcher."
"No, even the tires are original.  Remember when I got that used one from you?"
"I have never seen another one besides yours."
"Neither have I except at the shop."
"Let's get a beer."

The thief riding away on my bike.  Notice the hoodie is up?

We walked back to his table at the High Life.  Ian was there and Clayton too.  A few minutes later Steve, the young Steve, from Bike World arrived on a classic radioactive yellow Trek 830 from the early 90s.  Great frame but sub-mid level components that could always be replaced.  The frame is the soul of a bike.  Robert Prunty has one too.

Damn, I thought, the guy I bought the bike from is here.  And Ian makes a third witness, he has seen the bike before.  Everyone is here, everything in place--witnesses and evidence, but the bike is not.

After a half dozen pitchers and a few shots we decided to leave.  I suggested a bridge.  I had to run home and grab something.  Ian said he'd pick up some beer.  I grabbed some of the extra Busch Lights from the SPERM ride and we all gathered on the green bridge.  Craig L would have been so proud.  I don't remember how long we stayed there.  Ian produced a bottle of Fireball and I knew we'd be there a while.  Eventually Sam A rolled up.  Guys night out.

I went to fetch two BLs from the 520, setting one on the railing and it fell over into the river landing on a sand bar.  Unopened can.  A sacrifice to the river deity.  We laughed.  I could clearly see it on the sand but in the morning when mary and I met Craig there it was missing.  No foot prints.  Vanished.  Maybe a skilled fisherman or an aquatic bird.

We managed to kill the Fireball.  Ian would place a photo of it on FB.  I walked to the 520 and threw a leg over it.  It was late.  I had reached that point.  Getting up at 415 am limits my ability to hang all night.  I just rolled off to home giving the remaining fellas a nod.  Great night to be with you all.  Did not get my bike back but nice to have friends willing to give me a call when something turns up.  We all would be hung over and some of us had to work and those that did not had to be productive or had to train.  Gonna be sorrow try to wake up tomorrow Bowie sang in Diamond Dogs.

I won't bore you with the details of our morning/afternoon ride to Saints in Beaverdale accept to say do not go there if you are absolutely starving.  You may perish.  Our waitress sucked or was overwhelmed.  But when she did come around to take food orders she skipped Craig.  He was in stealth mode, a bright red Hawaiian shirt.  I really was not impressed with the tenderloin I ordered and probably was still hungry when I left.  Brad and Calli, Jennifer and Chad were there as well as Kelly B and LadyG Hoegarden.  Mary and I left before BV Heather and Abby arrived.

Many hours later Mary suggested an evening ride.  My sweet tooth was bothering me so I suggested a DQ or a DQ clone.  Having gone north on the way to Saints once today we decided to ride west to Windsor Heights.  Near Pal Joeys we encountered the usually suspects, our Saints crowd, heading to Mullets.  Craig said we'd meet up.  screw WH there's a DQ across the street from Charlies on Grand.  I had a root beer float.

It was dark when we caught up with Craig under the Fleur Viaduct.  Venus, Jupiter and the moon were lining up.  Under a bridge.  We knew we'd end up on a bridge.  And after LDs (formerly LC's Corner Bar) and Mullets the rampage of bikers met on the green bridge, the sight of the previous night's crime.   Craig purchased an 18 pack of Busch Light, standard beer for bicycling and Jon Cox produced an unopened bottle of Fireball.  The potential coup de grace was Brad's bottle of Jager.  Shit, they keep dragging me back!

Well we killed the Fireball.  Took some time but mission accomplished.  We danced and enjoyed ourselves.  I bet if there is a wedding dance for Brad and Calli it will be the greatest thing ever.  No one got hurt.  The people fishing probably were amused.  We were too short and/or not sober enough to place the empty bottle next to Ian's but we found another place and photos were taken.

The changing color heart shaped thingie of the Miracle Field.

Jon pulled a box of Thin Mints out of is panniers.  He did this once before.  This usually signals the closing of the night.  We ravaged them quickly and started leaving for home or elsewhere.  After most everyone left I convinced the remaining people to accompany me to the Miracle Field so I could photograph the Heart arch colorful thingie.  But it was locked up so I did not get the best shots.  Four of us with the last beers sat on the sidewalk and finished the night here on the river.  Then we parted.  Craig and Abby made it to GTs.  Glad I had an easy ride home.

Ian would see the FB photo the next day and comment, "I dub thee The Fireball Bridge!"

Dance of the FireBall

Drunken Iowish Day

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S.P.E.R.M. Ride 2012

Just another Saturday morning our house, Festung Ebar, roars back to life.  Been an ugly week or so and I was looking forward to a quite day of rest.  Plans were made to take me away from my loved ones.  Plans were quickly rescinded.  But there were a few things we needed to get accomplished before running away with the Irish Biker Crowd.  I needed to replace my mobile phone and we needed groceries.  I am very grateful to God and global warming/global cooling/climate change and solar storms that it was the warmest and driest Saturday morning this year.  Weekends have been nothing but crappy weather wise this year.  43F and sunny.  Windy but what else is new.

Despite the destruction of the US and global economy by the previous regime and subsequent failure of the current regime to fix it, Best Buy did not want my $$ at 945 am.  Mary and I rode bikes there since we sold our car as an act of defiance and our refusal to be sodomized by terrorist nations, Texans, Canadians and big oil companies.  How much does gas cost?  I have no clue.  Besides, the bicycle keeps my weight in check without having to waste time and money at a germ ridden gym.  Best Buy opens at 10 am.  Wal Mart never closes except for in the Peoples Republic of the western Ghetto near Jordan Creek. 

This was all sidewalk action up SE 14th from Park Ave.  I wish they would rip out the current sidewalk and replace it with a side path like on MLK.  There is no easy way to ride north and south on the Southside of DSM.  Crossing SE 14th/US 69 was not an issue.  Simply wait for the light.  But Mary's chain fell off at the intersection.  She had to push it across.  Nobody honked.

We had a very pleasant consumer experience at Wal Mart.  Despite being dressed as bike nazis and fearing that some armleutcher (German for asshole literally the arm that holds a lamp) would take our photo and Youtube it for a "freaks at Wally World" montage it was good.  Well, the southside store needs a bicycle rack but then again this place is not very accessible via bike because it is on a highway.  We locked up on the employees break shelter aka smoking lounge.  Out of sight and there was a camera recording everything.

We use Virgin Mobile.  No contracts.  No fuss.  Service is improving, Sprint network.  If you are going to give your money to an evil corporation you might as well give it to a cool billionaire.  Sir Richard Branson not only signed and subsequently screwed over the Sex Pistols when no one else had the genitalia to do so, he spends his $$ para sailing with naked women and building spaceships to take civilians into space.  Now he is building a submarine to explore the deepest crevices of the oceans.  If you can buy the ticket he will take you there. 
What has AT&T, US Cellular an Apple done for you?  Taken your money and invested it into more mundane ways to take more of your money.  Steve Jobs was nothing more than a fauxhippie Bill Gates.  Besides, I can replace my phone at any Wal Mart or Target at 945 am and get it up and running in minutes.

We were in and out in 5 minutes.  Had the phone I was spying online and was not pestered about "insurance" or other fees.  A quick glance at the bicycle aisle in search of the mythical Sting Ray I once obtained here.  Not today.  But we found a cheap 2-pack of St Patrick's Day socks.  Holiday spirit!  We decided to get groceries at Hy Vee on our way home.

I will say this.  Our other alternative is the Hy Vee and Wal Mart in Windsor Heights.  We notice, and this was verified by someone else last night, that in these two establishments we are constantly bumping into other people.  Maybe the aisles are more narrow.  Maybe their frequenters are too rude.  maybe Mary and I are out of phase with these folks.  But we do not encounter such issues on the southside.  And another thing, if you bitch about the people at Wal Mart, and there are some truly disgusting and amusing shoppers there, you are an economic elitist.  These people are poor.  I can understand a Republican or rich snob bashing Wal Mart.  But my liberal friends merely prove their hypocrisy when they do this.  Cheap consumer goods for poor folk like me.  I do not have the time or money for go support the greedheads and land rapers of Jordan Creek ect or the expensive trendy hippie stores that charge way to much.

My Lord, defending Wal Mart....we took the frontage road to McKinley Ave and then turned left on Indianola Ave.  If and when they ever finish rebuilding this road it will be the way to go instead of the sidewalk of SE14th.  The completed section has bike lanes.  McKinley, on the other hand, sucks and needs to be widen and resurfaced.  This took us straight to Hy Vee where we filled the 520's panniers with provisions.  Mary and I swapped bikes and I rode the remaining 2 miles on the loaded 520.  8 miles total trip.

Back to SPERM!!!  We missed the 11 o'clock meeting on the Raccoon River bridge at Water Works Park.  I needed to set phone up and give it a decent charge.  We needed to change clothing and dress festively for the ride.  And most importantly, we needed to eat.  We left our home around noon.  First stop at Mary's ATM and then Abelandros for cheap Mexican food.  There was a bet between us on the location of the bank and the restaurant.  Mary lost and failed to pay her part of the bet.  She will pay sometime when she least expects!

Leaving this establishment a group of 4 bikers came in.  They said that people were already leaving Waveland.  Yeah right.  Jerseys were leaving.  The bagger crowd was just getting in.  And on the rest of the journey there we saw many bikes heading in the opposite direction.  Nobody we knew or recognized.

And as we expected, the parking lot was overflowing with bicycles and bikers.  I was told the line for a beer was 3 deep across the entire bar.  We did not step foot inside except for the use of the restroom.  Having great foresight from previous experience, the first stop after leaving home was to purchase a 12 of Busch Light and 10 lb of ice.  This was a great $12 investment.

Big crowd.  Many familiar faces.  Good to see Crabb out of hibernation.  Also nice to see Jennifer W Ulrich.  Chad needs to stay home with the kiddies more often.  Too many others to mention.  Lots of competition for the ride given the first Fat Tire Fun Ride of the year and the run.  But a great showing nonetheless.

When it time to leave we headed to Charlies Filling Station and filled up on $6 pitchers and ignored a 10 minute warning.  Teena S M or Brad M lost their hat on the way there and apparently, while retrieving said hat, had a cash bag malfunction and lost valuable time time chasing their "green".  Brad B had to stop on Polk Blvd and remove a beer can from his wheel.  And I noticed a large pile of broken glass on Ingersoll.  Somehow we all made it.  Other people went to Orlandos, we did not.  We stayed long enough to not wear out our welcome, some of us calling Harley riders "faggots" after South Park made this argument.

At Charlie's

Next we got back on the trail south of Grand and made our presence felt.  First we stormed on the trail at speed like a stampede of buffalo, soliciting comments such as "how dangerous" ect.  Then one of us yelled at some trail users who stopped and parked their bikes on the trail.  Not quite as good as Crabb's "GET THE FUCK OFF THE TRAIL!!!!"  but Chad U got the point across.  Later, we said the exception to this rule would be on the trail near Windsor Heights due to large amounts of dog excrement before and after the dog park.  No where safe to pull over there.

Brad M in typical SPERM or St Paddy's Day attire. Raccoon River bridge

Nice weather sends everyone out to the trail.  Today was no exception.  Having not stopped riding since September 2007, I always a bit overwhelmed by the fair weather trail users.  Had the temp been 10 to 20 degrees cooler, we would have had the trail to ourselves.  Today we had to share.  And share we did.  I bet we pissed many people off when we occupied the Raccoon River bridge but we tried to keep out of the way and tried to stop spilling beer on the bridge.

Craig and I, Jon by bike and Tara in background.  Fingers provided by a public school teacher

When trail traffic calmed down we made another move.  this time to the Fleur Viaduct, rather, underneath it.  This has been a favorite spot for me.  Sorta secluded.  Ample places to hide.  Places to sit.  Plenty of room that we never seem to use.  Sunlight, moonlight.  Shelter from the rain or snow.  Shelter from funhaters.  We consumed the last of our beers here not before a photo shoot and seeing more friends.  Sean Seanson Johnson and Rebecka stopped, the later sporting a new hot pink and black cross bike.  Then Stephanie and Tara stopped.  I should have taken photos of the first two.

We were heading toward El Bait Shop.  Craig made the decision to boycott Orlandos due to their inability to fix the path's connection to the trail.  There is a large drop off from the trail to the path to this shithole and somebody may get hurt soon.  Today I decided to form a FB group "NOT OCCUPY ORLANDOS".  Details and invites coming.

Out of beer and with one bridge left we made the decision to resupply at the Philips station on the corner of SE1st and Jackson.  Otherwise known as "Best Trip" by the sticker on their door.  What should have been a friendly 2 mile ride became a race because of Mary.  She was riding the bagless and rackless red Phoenix as her bagger bikes are out of commision and she did not choose her road bike.  As I have blogged before, the FX 7.5 is a fast hybrid and she made the most of it.  Acceleration is its strong suit especially against loaded touring bikes ridden by people who have been sedating themselves with beer since 11 am or earlier.  Mary took off like a bat out of hell and it was all we could do to keep her in eyesight.  Jon Cox and I we doing 23 mph and not making progress.  She does this all the time.  And when we arrived at Best Trip she had a 12 of Busch Light on the counter and was completing the transaction.  At least her race was for a noble cause.  Someone else purchased vodka due to a gluten allergy, beer being bad for that person.  Slushie as a mixer.

Resupplied we retired to the Jackson St bridge.  This is also known as the "green pedestrian" bridge.  Plenty of places to sit and park bikes.  Speedy, however, decided to crash the red bike as part of a clipping out failure.  She may or may not have a black eye.  She did this herself and I have witnesses.  We all laughed.  Craig busted out a bag of Jack's Links jerky and Jon a box of Thin Mint GS cookies.  Life is good on the bridge!!!

the view from the green bridge

This is where we parted ways.  Mary and I had a birthday party to attend.  A friend of ours from Church, a converted Jehovah Witness, was going to be surprised by a large gathering of fellow Catholic parishioners at Jasper Winery.  I was looking forward to a bottle of Bedhead Red.  But given my intake of alcohol, mostly beer with a few shots of Fireball and a shot of vodka, I settled for 1 glass of North, a cab, and did my best to act sober.  Food was catered in by an Italian American catering service and we were able to eat after a near 7 or 8 hour fast sans cookies and jerky.  Different crowd.  We were the only ones on bicycles.

All in all a successful SPERM ride.  Only one crash.  No cops.  No fights.  great people.  Awesome weather and 21 miles of the best riding in DSM.  I look forward to many more.

Frühlingserwachen

Pride of the Fleet chained together like the hearts that beat them on this pre-Spring day

Another cold Saturday morning.  It has been a great week but as usual the wind picks up Friday and we wake up below freezing Saturday morning with a 20 mph from the north.  The forecast improves once the weekend is over, 64F for Tuesday's high.  But we made it March.  Two set of studded tires are by the back door with prospects of returning to the shed or basement soon.  Songbirds are chattering away.  Things are turning green and some plants are surfacing from the ground.  Spring awaking, frühlingserwachen as our German brethren would say.

We wake up about 7 am.  That means I slept in for 3 hours!  Little Ewok is making her needs known before we leave the comfort of the bed.  But that cat failed to  understand that in order to be fed some human needs to leave the house and purchase cat food.  Dog food is gone as well but Heidi remains on the floor in front of the tv.  Eventually I exit the bed and and grab a knife and left over chicken breast.

"here, enjoy the cooked version of what you would be eating if you existed in the state of nature."  I plop a large chunk in Heidi's bowl and they summon her.  This will by us some precious time before we have to leave the house.  Besides,  I give left overs 48 hours in the fridge before I refuse to eat them.  After 48 hours they aint kosher for me.

The plan was a simple one.  Hit 2 credit unions and one bank and then stop at Dollar General for tooth paste, shampoo animal food.  Small load that can be carried in back packs.  Why not take road bikes?  Been quite some time since we experienced the joy of riding something other than a mule.

Road bikes are me favorite.  Fast and efficient.  99.99% of energy put into pedalling is converted into momentum.  I push myself harder on these than I do on other bikes.  Better reward for the effort.  Sleek and sexy.  Fast and unforgiving.  Never mundane.  The Ferrari of bicycles.

I have filled a water bottle and took off for 100 mile ride on a road bike.  All I need is cash, a phone, sunglasses and a tire repair kit, which fits nicely in a small bag under the saddle.  What more does a person need to enjoy biking in its purest form?  Remind me to put Osceola on my list for destinations this year.  Warren County offers the best county roads in Iowa for long rides.  Hills, baby, hills!  Road bikes eat them up with greed!

Now other bikes have their merits.  Mtbs on single track are quite outstanding.  But whenever I have the time for that or am in the mood for off road it is too wet.  Can't destroy the trail!  Touring bikes offer freedom at the sacrifice of performance.  Unless you have Sheldon Brown's touring bike, a road bike with a credit card.  And the list goes on, so many types of bicycles these days that my fingers would go numb before I am done.  Let's just say that the roads were clear, the sky was blue and it was time to ride something different.

I do not recall when i last took the stick bike out.  Possibly November or even December given the merciful warm winter we are almost done with.  But January and February I have ridden only a hybrid and a touring bike and my Raleigh 3 speed.  I think I took a tandem out.  But once I get the bike log off my dead computer I will not be sure.  Basically I have ridden heavy slow bikes that merely have been used for grocery runs and commuting to work.

Mary and my fast bikes have been nestled in hibernation.  Just sitting there with tires slowly deflating.  I pulled the computer for my LeMond Versailles out of the drawer.  Clock still on Daylight Savings Time or whatever is not the time now, an hour ahead.  Stupid of me to change it since DST or Standard Time is going to "Spring Forward" in a couple of weeks.  But I did.  I also reset the odometer.  1197 miles last year.  That is almost average for the bike.  I got in in 2007 and still have the original tires and brake pads on it.  Pristine!  Mary's Trek 1600 had 3733 miles on it from last year.  The year before maybe 4K.  Both bikes still had front and rear lights on.  This is a minor miracle because we have been cannibalizing the other bikes to keep our commuters illuminated.  Tires definitely needed air.  Both bikes still had mud on them from last year.  Note to self: purchase proper bike washing soap.

The first thing we noted is that the bikes felt a bit twitchy.  Given that these bikes are considerably lighter than the commuters this is no surprise.  Put more weight on the handle bars.  The second thing we noticed is how damn smooth they felt.  As if angels were pushing us!  Quite too, having not suffered the abuse of riding through rain and snow and all the shit on the roads from winter.  No noisy knobbies either.

The elation ended at the end of the street.  North head wind was there to greet us.  Until we got to the Raccoon River Bridge.  The never ending weather battle in Iowa is the north/south wind.  Winter trying to make another push into the state.  Better than the tornadoes that sacked the states south and east of here.  But it seems like there has not been a day without a strong wind this week.  Wednesday I think it was 28 mph sustained with gusts up to 60 mph.  And yours truly had to ride into it all the way to work.  After work things calmed down to 44 mph gusts.  I deployed sailed and enjoyed the ride home.  But now we had 3+ miles until the shelter of the trail.

I could bore you the details of the rest of the trip.  First stop was at the Greater Iowa Credit Union on 22nd St in West Des Moines.  We took the trail to Wal Mart and then rode up Buffalo Ave and waited 5 minutes at the stop light at 22nd.  There was one bike chained up to the tree at the credit union.

The next stop was in Urbandale near Bike World.  So instead of retracing our pedal strokes we opted fro crossing Buffalo and doing some parking lot and frontage road action to University where we crossed by Hardees and did a bit of lawn action to get to the Clive Greenbelt.  This trail to Windsor Heights trail and then to Hickman ect a bit of residential.

Other things we noticed.  Mary's brakes are lacking again.  She averages 3 to 4K a year.  Her computer was not calibrated properly.  It was set for a 26x1.5 tire not a 700x25.  The brakes on the Versailles almost sent me over the bars!  Damn, I love strong brakes!  So another repair on the list of things I should be doing instead of blogging.  STI road shifters do not work well with severe winter mittens.  Mary did not want a smaller pair of gloves today since the temp was still below 30F when we left. 

A very pleasant 24.5 miles.  We even stopped at B&B for Italian sausage for two meals this weekend, chili and pasta.  Felt very very good to be on the Versailles again.  I should be on older road bikes but they are in various states of repair.  My Campy bike needs the chain whacked 2 links or so and the rear hub bearings repacked.  The 560, ultra twitchy lugged steel classic Trek needs a new derailleur and the drop out bent back thanks to a son of mine.  My theory is to ride the older bikes first and wait until Spring rains wash the streets clean before busting out the good bikes.  But I have been very lazy this winter keeping commuters running.  Spring Awaking, time to move!

Broke Dick Biker or Exile on Indianola Ave

Not mine but sorta similar.  I like the text!

Sam Auen's hurtin' ribs reminded me of a time that I felt like I was hit by a truck.  I believe it was on June 6, 2010, that my biggest fear confronted me and slammed me onto the ground.  Bicycle crash at high speed.    For years I often thought about how awful it would be to crash a bike at high speed.  I think about this every time I ride fast down hill.  It does not stop me from riding this way, but it makes me think.  After that day in June I think about it more.

The south side of Des Moines is geographically marked  by three zones: flood plain, cliff and numerous hills in that order from the river to the county line.  Living in the flood plain I must climb my way out if I desire to go south of Little Italy.  And consequently, I have several opportunities to fly downhill on my return.  Indianola Ave is my favorite.

I first encountered this road on the Mayor's Ride way back during the John Pat Dorian era.  They routed us down this long steep hill.  I hit 40 mph on my Mottobaccane.  This is my standard.  Two lanes in both directions with a stop light on the top and other one after the road flattens givers bikers an excellent opportunity to get into the 40s.

On this particular day I went to a friend's house south of County Line Rd.  Sam is smart.  He bought his house in Warren County.  I helped him move furniture.  Just a shade over 6 or 7 miles south of my house, which is not a considerable distance, it is a pain in the ass to get there and back.

I usually take SE 6th/5th all the way, mostly, avoiding the high traffic narrow sections.  Sometimes I opt for sidewalk action on SE14.  There is an option to take SW12th/SW14th but that is out of my way and requires riding up Mac Rae Park.  This is extremely steep and out of my way and places my way out of my way on a busy narrow road with a shit sidewalk.  On this day I took one of the former and SE5/6TH back.  At night that road is safe enough.

Decision was made at the intersection of SE6th and Indianola Ave.  I could go forward and cross to enjoy a short steep descent, what out for rough pavement by a church and hit the light at Hartford, turn left on Hillside and wind back home.  OR I could turn left and get a run for a loooonnnngggg modestly steep hill and try to hit 40 mph and enjoy a view of the downtown skyline.  Been some time since I was in the 40s so I turned left.

The 520 was my bike that night.  26 lb without rack and bags, its weight is a good accelerant.  I have hit 44mph on this bike once before going into Elk Horn, Iowa, a long long time ago on a ride supporting what became the T-Bone Trail.  The possibility of my wish being granted was quite good.  the only thing really holding the bike back was the big ring.  50 tooth rings while good for accelerating and touring, are lacking in the downhill department I always felt and still do.  Strange, because the 2 times I'd been in the 50s, tandem, were with a 50 tooth ring.

The light near the intersection of the Git n Go was green.  Time to work the gears.  Hands in the drops.  Proper position is essential for speed.  Teach that back to stretch.  Besides, the drops are the best weapon against headwind.  7 speeds. I spin out each as I push the shifter forward with my right hand.  The 520 should have come with barcons but when I purchased it at Barr, used, it had downtube shifters.  Fine with me, I hate wrapping bars with barcons.  Work the gears until the 11 is reached on the cassette.  Then really stretch the back and keep head down.

Keep the head down.  Look up occasionally to see if there are cars or obstacles in the way.  Very important.  Things can change very quickly.  I've had clear lanes one glance and then bikes in my way at a later glance.  Today the road was empty.  Check speed, 30+  good,  Put head back down. 

At this point everything was going well and my mind began to drift.  Tomorrow is a big day at work.  Lots of shit to do.  It's late and I've lost at least an hour of sleep.  Been a great two weeks riding.  Got 200 miles last week and today is day two and I will have 50 by the time I get home.  Better look up.

Standing next to my bike I felt a bit confused.  What to do now?  I don't know how long I had been there.  Knowing me, I probably jumped up right away.  Instinct.  I looked at the bike, concerned that the front wheel had collapsed.  I always worry about this.  It seemed fine.  There was a bright light.  Must have been a car.  A voice, "do you need help?"  "Nope, I am fine."  Automatic response wired deep in the back of my brain.  "No thank you, please fuck off as I need to do this on my own."  Surely that was a thought not a verbage.  The light went away.  Good.  No need to drag strangers into this mess.  Having a hard enough time dealing with myself let alone others that I do not know.

Did I need help?  Why?  I am standing.  Always a good sign of health.  My arms are still attached.  Hands still there.  Obviously I still possess eyesight and hearing.  Breathing is not labored or noisy.  No sign of severe bleeding.  Well, it is dark, for all I knew I could bleed out before reaching my destination.  My bike is laying down beside me.  Something happened.  I picked up the bike and wondered which way I needed to go.  What destination?  Where am I going.  Lost? 

Oh yes, I am going home.  Must get to bed because I need to be at work tomorrow.  But where is home?  I look around and everything is a bit unfamiliar.  To this day I cannot tell you where exactly I landed.  But why did I crash?  I am standing on a sidewalk.  Someone's driveway is 3 feet from the bike.  Must have drifted onto it and wiped out.  But which way do I go now?

Look around again and I see the EMC building and immediately had my bearings.  That way.  One mile from home.  No hills.  The safety of residential neighborhoods.  Disappear and get home.  No need for speed.

Suddenly the shock wore off a bit and the pain hit.  I felt like I was tackled by a truck.  No where specific, just my entire midsection hurt.  Just get home and sleep this off.  Big day tomorrow.  Sleep and a shower will cure all.   Get back on and take it easy.

The ride home was slow.  No need to go fast.  The bike is handling ok.  Nothing on it seems busted.  Get home and sleep.  Everything will be better.  Leave the bike on the back deck.  Deal with it later.

Mary was asleep when I crawled in.  Must have been 1030 pm.  2am found myself awake.  The pain was just as intense as it was when I got home.  Humm...that is not part of my plan.  Go back to sleep.  The alarm will give me another 4 hours.

I woke again at 4 am.  The pain still as strong as ever.  Something is definitely wrong.  If I lasted this long I can wait until Mercy South opens.  Avoid the ER as it is full of people I  do not want nor need to see.  Cheaper to go to the clinic. 

I woke up Mary.  "Honey, I need you to call in sick today.  I think I really fucked up."

Anders did not have this option.  His kids were little when he limped home with a busted collar bone.  He had to take a cab.  All I have to do is wait for the kids to go to school.  Seems easy enough but someone needed something and my needs waited for a bit.

While the family was roaring back to life I cleaned up and assessed damage.  The shower was quick and refreshing but did not improve my condition.  Scrape on head.  Scrape on left elbow.  Chest looks a bit out of whack but pain is everywhere.  Nothing hurt more or less than anything else.  Orange shirt is completely green on the back from grass.  WTF did I auger in like a meteor?  The bike fared better.  Some grass on a the left brake hood.  Bar tape ripped as if a dog bit it.

My helmet fared worse.  Cracked in several places.  Giro saved my life that night.  Don't crash without one!

This lid's time has come.  Notice that the pads are shot and missing.  Got my $150 worth out it.

After what seemed like an eternity it was time to go.  First stop was at work.  Had to let them know that I would not be in today AND give them the keys to the company truck.  Visual face to face with the boss would be better than a phone call.  Besides, we had time to kill.  I think we had to make a stop for one of our children.

Finally we get to Urgent Care.  Not many people there.  I get a room quickly and wait for a decade.  This is when I really fall apart.  Felt like whiplash was setting in.  The severity  of it all washing over me.

I forget the name of the doctor.  Never saw her before, have not seen her since.  I did get a letter saying that she moved on to bigger and better or different.  Basic description of the incident and pain was given.  I was fighting back tears.  She asked me if I took anything for it.  No.  My kids go through our over the counter pain meds like Pez.  Rarely do we ever have anything in stock unless we plan ahead.  No planning lately.  She then started to touch me to evaluate my pain.  Clavicle was suspect.  When her finger touched my right clavicle my left hand made a fist and began a round house that surely would have cold cocked her if it was not for Mary grabbing my arm..  "Found the trouble maker.  Let's get you to x-ray."

If possible, if you find yourself in the x-ray room, take your cell phone with you.  There is a moment after the radiation dose and subsequent exam of the photo that you are left alone to stare at the aftermath of your sin.  And it is much easier to take a photo of it right then and there than ask them for a copy.  So there I was staring at the image of my bones.  Not a pretty sight.  my collar bone was in 3 pieces. One long piece was sunk just below the level of the outer two as if a press stamped into that position.  The doctor said that surgery was unlikely but that I needed to see an orthopedic.

Then she placed my arm in a sling, telling me that in order for the bone to heal that it needed to be immobilized.  A discussion of drugs then ensued and a prescription was given to me and an appointment with the ortho. 

STOP  If it is very likely that surgery is not necessary this all one needs for a broken clavicle.  A sling and a supply of pain meds.  Of course, a visit to the ortho to confirm that surgery is not needed I recommend.  But after that you just contribute to the ortho's boat payment and get unnecessary exposure to x-rays.  Sure, you may be given a brocure on rehabilitation of the shoulder after the 3rd or 4th visit but common sense is just as good.  You may need the ortho to write a work release for you and a release to work again.  BUT the healing process is pain killers and lack of arm movement.  I stopped visiting the ortho after my 3rd or 4th visit.

My ortho was and probably still is a real asshole that showed no concern for me whatsoever.  Sure, he thought I was in pain every time I saw him but my pride did  not allow me to take advantage of that for extra prescriptions, something I regret although I was not in pain.  But when the fucker walks out of the room without telling me he is done with the day's visit I get pissed off.  I hope to never see him under similar circumstances.

My recovery was spent managing pain.  1 Darvocet and 4 Aleve did the job.  I remember reading the drug information.  The first sentence said, "if you are an alcoholic DO NOT TAKE THIS MEDICATION."  Addiction and the use of Tylenol = dead liver.  So that Friday I went cold turkey.  I thought I was over the pain, having not felt any since the pills first took hold.  I wanted to drink some wine over the week end since most likely I'd be on the couch watching a movie.

I was wrong.  Saturday I woke up in pain.  My 5 pill cocktail to the rescue!  Put on Exile On Main Street, remaster, and drift away.  Mary was in a particularly chatty move but I could not form the words, "please be quiet and enjoy this music and stare at the ceiling."

Biking was difficult.  Having been on the 100+ miles a week kick I was quite sad that this campaign came to a halt.  I think I was at 16 weeks in a row,  So when one's goals are impossible, aim for older goals.  Ride at least once a week every week.  I had 50 miles the week of the crash so there was time to rest.  Now working downtown, a mere 2 miles away, did not really require a bike.  I walked.

A mile round trip to B&B Supermarket was my first ride since the crash and burn.  Scary.  The red bike really requires two hand when taking off.  I needed a cheap bike with "flat foot technology" but that was not going to happen.  That trip, that 1 mile was the only mile I rode that week.  Got one ride in and that was enough to say that I rode during that week.  The next week I had 30.  I got tired of walking to work.  I even rode to the ortho.

Sometime during this mess I received a phone call about my daughter Katie.  Apparently, she was at Mercy getting examined after a car hit her.  not the best news one wants to hear over the phone.  Given that I just downed my meds and was drifting into  la la land was not good either.  I had to drive a car to be there.

At this time we had a classic Saab 3 door.  Great little car for it was fun to drive and could carry 2 road bikes in back with the hatch shut and the bikes fully assembled.  Rare.  But today it was not fun.  Power assist steering was lacking and it was a 5 speed manual.  The ignition was located behind the shifter between the driver and passenger front seats.  Use of right arm/hand was necessary.  I have not driven for quite some time and certainly not since my crash.  Somehow I managed.  Fortunately, Katie was alright and 6 months later she received a check for the damage to her bike.  The wheels of insurance are fucking slow.

I felt healed enough for Ragbrai.  I captained the tandem and Timmy was my stoker and we had our panniers stuffed to the gills.  I carried the pain killers, now including vicadons.  It takes more upper body strength to control a tandem than a single.  I felt tired and sore after every day but I was doing what I loved most and with the people I loved most.  I live all year for this week and had over a month to heal.  The hundred mile week campaign started anew.  Back in the saddle again!!!

Pass the Wine

Electronic Warfare

Been an interesting month for the occupants of Festung Ebar, our fortress of solitude in Little Italy.  Beautiful weather followed by shitty weather followed by beautiful weather and more shit. Yes, change of font.  I like this one better.  People would think that I would be taking advantage of the good weather.  And I have somewhat.  The winter that never happened yet never went away.


The weekends are a different story.  I tend to get my 100 miles between Monday and Friday and then slack on the next two days.  Such is life.  No love at all on the trail of dolls, no love lost.  February has been marred by shit weather on Saturdays.  The first weekend was BRR and it was started with some of the heaviest snow we experienced all winter.  But as quickly as it came it went away.  Yep, I stayed inside and only rode when I had to.  I made sure that I got my 100 miles in BEFORE the weekend.  I dropped out of BRR fearing that I would be stranded or have to ride 8 hours straight in wet cold conditions. 


The next couple of week ends have been much cooler or colder than their Monday through Friday counterparts.  If I don't need to ride then I don't.  But the week days have been great, mostly, a few hiccups now and then but some great temps and sunshine.  For this I am grateful.  These are the days that i get my miles.


Call it the blues.  But my life became even bluer last week.  Within 5 minutes of safely getting home Friday, my 'smart phone' went for a swim in my Diet Dew.  Cat like reflexes pulled the bastard out and removed the battery within nanoseconds but the damage was done.  I grabbed a bag of rice and let the phone dry out in there.  No joy.


Returning from the kitchen to my computer room I noticed that The Beast was on but the screen was blank except for a blinking cursor.  Hit reset.  Get the Pentium 4 screen, hear the fans turn and witness the blinking cursor again.  Unplug and reboot.  No joy.  Try to start in safe mode.  I forgot how to do that but brought up two different bios modes.  Still SOL.


Oh well, I still have the other pc.  Rebuilt and given to me by my buddy Sam.  Clean and empty on the HD I just use it for Panzer General and downloading music.  The Beast is almost completely full.  Time to call Sam Hildreth.  FUCK, dead phone.  Email.  Unfortunately, the remaining pc lacks anti viral software.  Do not let the children use it.  I am impressed that Dora listened to me and uses her siblings laptops.


Back to The Beast.  I think Sam built it for me 7 or 8 years ago.  A fast machine built for gaming.  Back then I flew virtual Focke Wulfs more than ride real bikes.  The Beast is a fast and hot computer that is past its prime.  Back in the day I flew in Fighter Ace I'd have to open the box to let it cool down.  Grab extra fans.  Give that bitch a blow job often to remove dust.  All fan cooled pcs are air cleaners and dust magnets.  But It is still a wonderful pc for music and videos and bike logs and photos.  All of lost, maybe.


So I have been scribbling down my mileage on a Christmas card until a day or two ago when I started a log on this puter.  This slow ass bitch but a stable and quiet machine.  I vaguely have a clue where I am for the year because I have been sharing the same bicycle computer between my 2 main winter bikes.  The other two bikes I have ridden lack computers but I have only a handful of miles on for them.


But what really makes me depressed is that my log from 1994 to present is on The Beast.  Sure, I can dig up the old paper logs that I stopped doing prior to 2007.  But that leaves a 5 year gap.  Should have sent the shit to the cloud.  If only I had emailed it to myself.  Oh well.  the HD can be saved or the files can be extracted.


The phone is another story.  It turns on.  It has a pull out keypad for those who have fat fingers and/or the fear of using the touch screen keys.  I always thought this was dead useless weight.  But now I learned how to text with it.  Just as long as it is in text mode it is a useful communication device.  If I get out of text mode i have to reboot the phone to text again.


One night this week it acted like a strobe light on my dresser.  I let it flash way until the battery died.  F it.  Thursday I charged it and discovered that it still works for texting despite having a dead touch screen  Took it to work Friday and AMEN the bastard works!!!


Still a bit buggy but fully functional until, Friday night, I plugged it in.  Touch screen FAIL.  Back to text only.


Friday was a fun ride to work.  Thursday it rained and later snowed.  I wore sandals on Thursday and got to work dry.  The commute home was wet but a light wet as the rain was soft.  Friday was a dry ride until I hit Park Ave.


As I have done all winter long, I looked at the falling snow and debated about putting the studded tires on.  I did not.  Jeri Ann Ritter said that the temps would not drop too much.  I gambled on that the snow would be rideable and with 50s for Sunday everything would clear up.  Once again it was true.


The layer of snow on the trail was crunchy and slowed the bike down somewhat.  It took an extra 10 minutes to get to work.  Absolutely zero slips or slides on the trail.  Park Ave was clear but wet.  Having taken the red bike I lacked the 520's mirror so I had to constantly look over my shoulder for cars before switching to the turn lane.

And then the one and only slip.  One last peak over my left shoulder.  And I am glad that I do this over my left because since busting my clavicle my head does not turn as far to the right as it does to the left.  The car is far enough behind where I can safely leave my lane and cross another to get to the safety of the turning lane.  Slight yank on the bars and OOPPSSS  ice or slick spot.  Just a small wobble but one probably visible to the car whose lane I am now occupying.  He or she is probably thinking, "WHAT STUPID FUCKTARD IS RIDING A BICYCLE ON THIS ROAD AFTER THE SNOWFALL??!!??"  But I recover instantaneously and reach the turn lane with plenty of time to spare.  That was it, no more slips.  No falls.  Nada.  No studded tires, just a worn set of Kenda Pro Cross tires, $19 at your friendly neighborhood bike shop.

56Th and Thornton offered a different terrain.  Frozen slush.  These roads are never plowed in the morning.  Sometimes they never plow them at all.  All the night's snow was still there but now rutted by vehicle traffic and refroze into an icy mess.  One climbs up a hill from Park Ave when turning onto SW 56th.   I pick a line of a smooth tire track.  Remian steady and true because if the bike wanders off that track the ice becomes bumpy and crusty and the chance of kissing the ice covered pavement becomes a reality.  The space between the track and the curb is virgin but a crusty surface like the bike trail.  Since the bald tire on the Red Phoenix is not losing traction I hold the line until my turn. 

Thornton is exactly the same.  The incline is less pronounced.  Pedalling must be maintained.  Occasionally, I am passed by cars on this road.  Today is no exception.  I hear them first and then in a theatrical way I turn my head to inform them that I am aware of their presence.  This is only necessary to let them know that they are dealing with a professional and they may safely pass and get the fuck out of my way.

This car is lingering.  Come on, I hate vehicles in my 7 o'clock.  Pass and be done!  Apparently, this black Lexis RX400 SUV was having traction issues of its own.  I am on a bicycle with a balding rear tire and am not experiencing any problems.  Perhaps it was afraid I'd fall down and slide into its path.   BLOGGER'S NOTE:  NOTICE THAT I REFER TO ALL VEHICLE DRIVERS AS "IT" NOT "HE" OR "SHE"??  IF THE SEX OF THE DRIVER IS UNKNOWN I CALL THEM "IT".  TRYING TO AVOID SEXIST REMARKS It eventually passes and I am officially done with cars for the morning.

My head lamp died last month.  I miss it for two reasons.  It provided another source of light to become visible to others and to illuminate the eyes of deer.  Eyes always give away the presence of deer.  And it also allowed me to read my bicycle computer in the absence of sunlight.  Now that it is gone I can only read the computer when I am underneath a street light.  After the SUV was gone I had a chance to check the computer.  37 mph!  WRONG!  Said I had gone almost 10 miles since I started.  Wrong again.  Another piece of electronics screwing up.  Usually i get false readings when the computer is in the presence of my home pc, work pcs, cellphones, door scanners ect.  I look around.  Nothing here.  Must be moisture.  Not cold enough for a temperature related fubar.  No time to fret about this, I am behind and my time to relax, eat a bowl of Fiber One and change clothes is running out.  One inside I looked at it again..  Instead of the 6.3 miles it recorded me at 10.1.  My top speed was 55 mph instead of the 20 I would have had on a good day turning into the parking lot.  My top speed was more like 12 mph.  Let it sit for 9 hours and hope it works right later.  Subtract 4 miles form the distance and add .2 miles to that for the true total IF it functions properly on my return commute. 

The rest of the ride is unremarkable.  At 61st I coast downhill to my turn into the PFG call center.  I need to watch my speed since SW 61st is never plowed.  The parking lot of the business just south of the call center has its snow dumped into the street which makes things worse.  And my brakes...are now covered in icy slush and snow thrown up from the road that the rear is not functioning at all.  I had to brake amost of the way down the hill.

For the first time ever the call center's lot is icy.  A1 Lawn Service did not pretreat the lot with the brine solution because this snow began with rain.  Many people commented that the worst part of their commute (cars) was the last 100 yards and the parking lot.  I noted the ice right away and rode accordingly.  Followed the salty bike tracks in the warehouse to my parking spot.

Yes, salty tracks.  When I worked downtown and parked at the rack at PFG's auditorium there were big white blothes on the concrete underneath the bikes of the 4 or 5 brave souls that rode everyday in winter.  Now that I get to park inside a building all the road slop belongs to me.  The 520 left a nice mess once.  I do park the bike on top of old carpet samples.  As the bike warms up salt, grit, sand and muck fall down to the ground as the snow and ice melt off the bike.  Just marking our territory.

I was amazed how much of the snow melted away.  Once again the sun came out and cleared and dried the trails and streets.  Sure, there was some water in places.  But what a diffence 9 hours can make!  And my brakes and computer were working too!

That night I took The Beast to sam's house.  I would have put it in the Burley and rode over there butriding 6 miles south from here is dangerous.  No trails.  Roads and sidewalks and it was cold and windy.  I had my buddy Keith pick me up and drive me home.  The three of us have ridden together.  Sam has done Ragbrai.  So has Keith, I think he rode the second one.  We drank homebrew and Templeton until nearly 230 am.  He said me files could be saved.  A nice way to end the work week.  Saturday's ride to the store was painful..  Disconbobulated and over fed on tacos.  Such is life.