Bob the Bicycle Telegraph Delivery Guy

Not Bob's bike but one I think is similar to the one he rode up  Grand Ave hill on a  rainy day in 1937 or 38.

I met Robert Quinn because his daughter Mary broke her right leg.  Not my fault.  I received a call from St Anthony's Church asking me to deliver Holy Communion to Robert and his family since Mary could no longer drive due to her gimp leg.  No problem.  The Quinns live just a mile away from my home.  Minister of Eucharist to the Home-bound is something I started to do last autumn.  A way to do make good with the bike  instead of my usual japes and shenanigans.  Put the bike to good use, do the Lord's work.  Also an opportunity to meet the tiring heroes that are not long for this realm.

Robert, Bob, is in his 90s.  He lives at home with his lovely wife Lucille and their daughter Mary.  He is veteran of WWII, ETO, as a combat engineer and a participant in the Battle of Bulge.  He was one of many Americans in Bastogne surrounded by the enemy until this last German offensive was put to an end.  Needless to say he survived and got to into Germany later.

A few years earlier when he was in his teens he worked for a telegraph company in Des Moines as a bicycle delivery person.  Bicycle messenger.  My eyes lit up when he told me this.  Damn, I would love to do that!

I visit the Quinns every Sunday and they did take note that I ride a bicycle during my visits.  This is why he told me I think.  Bob sits in a chair covered in blankets and often wearing gloves despite how warm the house feels.  I usually sweat after arrival because I ride a bike albeit it has been winter for almost all of my visits.  He is soft spoken.  Sometimes I pull a chair closer so i can hear him.  Despite his age his hearing is good.  Having fired WWII combat rifles I am amazed than any veteran of that conflict can hear at all.

Payments as low as $1 per week!

One day.  "I had that job for one day."

"Really?  What happened?" I asked.

"It was raining.  It was my first day.  There were 6 of us waiting for a run.  But because of the rain they disappeared.  And the delivery was to a place in West Des Moines."

Understandable.  I hate rain.  Rather ride in snow.  28F and I am good snow or shine.  But rain, I hate it.

"What sort of bike did you ride for this delivery."

"Western Flyer."

"Single speed or did it have any gears?"

"Single speed."

"How did you get to West Des Moines?"

"Grand Avenue."

"Even that hill?" I queried wondering how different things were in 1937.  No trails, no bike lanes.  Obviously less roads and streets.  I really need to view some old maps.

"Straight up that hill.  Stayed in the seat the entire time.  When I got back I turned in my badge.  Never wanted to do that again."

That was it.  I could have drilled him for questions but he would be totally right in saying "You daft bastard I never lived and breathed bikes you you and your ilk!"  Get info slowly.

A few years later he went off to Europe and participated in the largest battle America ever entered and defeated an evil enemy.  He left in January, 1946.  It was a nice day when they shipped back but cold and snowing when he stepped foot back in the States, married a beautiful Italian American woman and started a family.  Typical St Anthony's parishioner  As much as SA hypes up its Italian roots there's a Celtic cross on top of the church.  Bob is Irish.

I don't now if he ever rode a bicycle again.  It seems to me that America view bicycles as kid toys rather than utility or recreational vehicles.  Look at how different countries developed different styles of bikes.  Utilitarian in England and Germany.  France had beautiful touring and sporting bikes.  Italy, racers.  America, Pee Wee Herman bikes and Sting Rays.  Sure cruisers are lovely but practical?

Bob did show me a bicycle that he purchased for his son many decades ago.  Beautiful Schwinn cruiser, red, fenders, white rims.  He said that a neighbor kid wanted it but he denied him.  "I saw him ride his bicycle right into a telephone pole.  I was not gonna let my son's bike go to an idiot."

I wonder if still thinks about that rainy day climbing Grand Ave hill completely soaked to the bones on a Western Flyer. Probably when he sees me showing up on a rainy Sunday.

Ahh..1st NST Ride of the Year

A little ways south of Sycamore Access.  We watched these pelicans eat fish and dubbed the bench "Pelican Bench."

Coming off the depression of our failure to get to Vegas we made the best of it on a cold Spring morning.  Mary and I opted for road bikes.  Speed albeit dressed in Winter regalia is not the fastest clothing to ride in. Given the 16 to 20 mph NW or WNW wind we chose the Neal Smith Trail for the tree line coverage against the wind knowing that we would have a tailwind to assist us home.  Too much thinking to ride bikes these days.

Planning aside the next hurdle was getting dressed.  I do admit because of the crappy weather we are experiencing in Iowa, a Winter that will not end and constant precipitation especially during weekends, and my reduction in commuting to work because the doubling of my the distance ended the drought and the increased responsibilities of Mary's career requiring her to travel more throughout her work day, we have not been riding like we should or normally do.  This made dressing for the 36F ride difficult.  We could not find what we needed quick enough.

I could not find my jacket and my tights.  I was looking for my thicker--warmer--pair but only could find my thin pair.  After five minutes I realized that Mary was wearing them.  Understandable as hers need replacement.  Years of Winter riding takes its toll on equipment and clothing and the last two cold seasons put many a nail in certain coffins.  We are waiting for the sale once it warms up for good.  So thin tights it was.  Despite 1300 miles so far this year, a little time off from polar rides weakens the ability to venture out.  My torso was covered in what I would have normally used for temperatures in the 20s.  My jacket was in the van.

In mid April we needed to wear balaclavas and winter hats.

Breakfast was first on the list once we left the house.  Mr. Filet downtown 7th and Grand.  We rarely get opportunities to eat there because they are only open when we work or when we commute to work.  Second visit.  I had the Greek omelet.  The owner, as I was checking out, asked me if I had it before.  I do not recall what I had before.  He then said most people avoid it because they do not know what feta cheese is.  I said those people are ignorant fools.  I recommend the Greek omelet.

After eating we cut up to Watson Powell Pkwy and then up to the Well to use the new Center Street bridge to get to the NST.  Noticed that the improvements to the Botanical Center now involve ripping up Robert Ray Drive so for once in my life I was grad to have taken the trail.

The trail was almost completely empty on our up to the Visitor's Center.  No bikes, no walkers, no deer.  just birds.  Despite the weather the grass shoulders were turning green.  Hope.  The only humans we saw were in a huge F-Series Ford pulling a trailer on the trail.  Polk County or DNR.

Trail conditions were good.  Occasional sticks and branches as to be expected for this time of year.  I noted some glass on the side of the last wooden bridge before the climb to the top of the dam.  I made note of it to avoid the sides on my inevitable high speed dive bomb run.

Still Winter here.  At the top of the dam.

As Grumpy Cat would say, NO.

The VC was open and staffed.  We did not try to get water so I cannot report if the water was on.  restrooms were open and the building was warm.  We looked at the 3D relief of the lake and river, noting that the High Trestle needs to be added.  Also looked at the stuffed animals along the walls.  The staff said that the bobcats were ones that were killed by cars nearby.  Soon a mountain lion I thought.  Those bobcats are beautiful.  They remind me of our own cats.

An elderly couple visiting from Nebraska told us that we were brave.  If it was 10 below Zerex then I'd say that we were brave.  As it was, we were dress fairly well and were not cold.  And much to my surprise, not sweaty either.  Had we done this ride back in February with the same weather conditions I would have worn the same clothing.

Time to return.  Time to descend that climb.  BTW that climb is not bad.  Kept it in my 39.  No choice since my Trek 2200 is a double.  I think it only takes 2 minutes tops.  30 seconds to descend.  I did not push it, stayed out of big ring and only hit 29 mph.  After the bridge there was a couple walking followed by a white US Army Corps of Engineers SUV.  IIRC we saw a Park Ranger driving on the trail, too.  The Fed got over and we did not need to stop.

As we approached the bench where we saw the pelicans I noticed that the trail suddenly felt rough.  "Do I have a flat," I queried.  "Yes you do," Mary replied.  I was ready for this.  I brought a new tube, 2 levers, CO2 inflation system.  And we had a bench with a view.  Pelican bench is about a quarter mile south of  Sycamore Access.  Unfortunately, the bench is exposed to W and NW wind.  One large chunk of glass was removed from the front tire.  Guess I picked that up from the bridge.  Despite running my fingers through the inside of the tire I could not find the hole after glass extraction.  Good sign.  Put new tube in and then work to get tire reseated on the rim.  This gave me time to think about how old the tire is.  Continental Gator Skin maybe 5 to 6 years old.  Keep in mind this bike has not been ridden much since 2008.  As learned from experience, no matter how difficult it is to get that last 3" of tire back on the wheel, never ever use the levers. Yes, rip up your hands to do this.  Summon super human strength to do this.  And if you only have one cartridge you better not even look at the levers.

Time to inflate.  Secure head thing to presta stem.  Screw CO2 cartridge into head thing and wait for the PSZZZTUP sound of carbon dioxide escaping its metal prison.  This never happened.  Quicken unscrew the CO2.  Well, there's a hole in it.  I've been carrying a spent cartridge.  NOTE: this is a new system for me.  A good friend gave me it and several cartridges.  I happened to pick the used one into my fanny pack.  Been carrying it for months.  My trustworthy system is in the seat bag of the yellow tandem with spare cartridge.  I like that system better but the new one was free and I did not have to walk to the bike barn to retrieve it.  Pump you ask?  One is in my backpack that I commute with.  Time to walk.  No bikers out today.  Nobody walking with a pump.  I have ridden this trail almost countless times with nothing other than the clothes on my skin and a water bottle.  Today I get a flat and have 3/4 of the crap I need to fix a tire.  Lesson learned.

Mary suggests heading to the Casey's on NW66th.  It is almost a two mile hike from Pelican Bench.  At least a mile.  Wide shoulder, lots of cars.  Lots of cops.  We saw a trooper pull someone over.  Fortunate for us, it was behind us.  Polk County Sheriff Supervisor SUV or crossover (station wagon glorified) at the gas station.  And an Iowa State Patrol "communications" pick up truck at the intersection.  Po po crossroads.  10 seconds of air was all the tire required.  I smiled because I did not rip the tube when inserting it nor failed to remove the cause of the flat nor exploded the tube while inflating it.

Mary asked me if I knew where the north south road went.  Great idea!  Use the tailwind to intercept the trail and avoid the headwind of retracing our tracks on a busy with wide bikeable shoulders.  One quick check of Google Maps, smartphones, gotta love em!  NW29th crosses I-80 and intersects Morningstar Drive which takes one to the trail at the house that is on the 90 degree turn of the trail that parallels I-80 or what we refer to as the shittiest section of the trail because of cracks and bumps.  Awesome!  Glance at the road again and confirm that traffic is minimal.

We were passed by four vehicles on this stretch.  The last two came at the same time as we turned onto Morningstar.  As for the road, it was quiet and smooth except for the freeway overpass which is should be on the list of bridges that need repairs or replacement if it is not already.  When the iron used to form the concrete is exposed in a pothole attention is needed.  Once off the road we did need to dismount to get from the trailhead to the trail proper.

This saved us much time.  Before we knew it we were back at Mt Radon near Euclid Ave.  Only one thing to report.  A helmetless rider wearing a shiny light blue jacket and a red stocking hat tossed a Gatorade bottle at a grocery bag in front of the bench that is about 2 miles north of the InterUrban Trail bridge.  I almost screamed but regretted that I was going too fast to pull out the camera and take his photo.  Instead I said hello and he replied in a friendly manner.  Maybe he was collecting trash and piling it at the bench for pick up.  No use to get all self righteous on such a cold but nice day.

I lied.  Another thing to report that we saw a bluebird.  Another sign of Spring.

Nice ride with my lovely wife.  Great breakfast.  29 miles.  Further faster next time.

Seasonal Change of Bikes

Winter for a full year it felt.  I used 3 bikes to get me through it.  A Trek FX 7.5 hybrid with 700x35, Trek 920 MTB with studded tires and a Trek 520 touring bike with 4 panniers and 700x35 road tires.  All slow.  Up until mid February I had a 12 mile round trip commute.  Roughly 30 minutes mostly trail.  By the time snow hit the 520 went into storage.  From mid February on my commute doubled.  More street than trail once Clive Greenbelt was covered with snow.

This week I put the 920 away and busted out another Trek.  Yeah, I have many Treks, I seem to collect them over the years and they never leave.  Road bike this time.  Took a ride to adjust to a skinny tire beast.  First, the handlebars are not nearly as wide as the FX's.  I replaced 2200's stock bars almost 2 decades ago with Scott Drop Ins. A little wider than the stock but not nearly as wide as hybrid or MTB bars.

Foot goes into the spokes.  Slow speed maneuvering is trickier on a roadie.  No more turning the front wheel 90 degrees and pedaling lest toes and spokes are not necessary. Sidewalk U-turns not recommended unless attention to detail is a priority.Why was I on a sidewalk anyway?  Oh yes, construction on Walnut St.

Brakes.  Winter riding destroys bicycles.  Unless you bring the bike inside after every commute and hose it down and lubricate everything and replace worn out parts before they become an issue, commuting in the 6 months of winter ages bikes and components quickly.  Brake pads are the first to die.  All the sand and grit the city dumps on the streets sticks to the braking surfaces and grinds up the pads.  I suppose disc brakes are just as susceptible to this since they are just as exposed to the elements.  If you ride 100+ miles per week in  winter and use disc brakes please contact me.  That being said, as soon as one grabs their road bike from its winter slumber they should notice, assuming that the bike was put away in good condition, that it feels brand spanking new.  Shifts nice, rides smoothly and they first time you operate the brakes you either get launched off the bars or wonder why the rear wheel locked up for 5".  The later for me.  making a quick right turn off a busy street something felt strange.  "HEY DUMBASS, LET OFF THE REAR BRAKE!!" the 2200 shouted.  Original 1994 pads, too.  I love good brakes but get too used to crappy worn brakes because of winter.  Lesson learned.

But the best thing is how it feels.  Light, fast, smooth, new, different.  It is like going outside with having to dress like an Arctic explorer.  Literally shedding pounds and resistance.  I do not want to even look at the FX until it is time to fix it up for next winter.  I really don't want to look at the 520 until it is time to bag and it won't be bagging time for a month or so.  Until then I am going to enjoy speed even if I have to don a backpack.   

Back on the Pedals Again

Under the SE 6th bridge along the Des Moines River Trail.  The latest graffiti.  Fitting.

Took some time off the bike.  Damn near gave up.  Started innocently enough.  Woke up with a killer headache and decided to sleep an extra hour instead of riding in 20F weather with a NW 24 mph..  Or woke up and it's a cold wet snow.  Fuck it, sleep an extra hour.  Or gotta drive 90 miles after work best save an hour and drive to work.  Then it became the Sudafed/Claritin Blues.  My allergies/immune system went ballistic due to exposure to dust and mold (90 miles away) that I almost went through a box of Kleenex over the weekend.  Just take the pills, sleep in an extra hour and do not aggravate things by riding an hour and 6 minutes in 20F weather with a NW 24 mph headwind.  Rest and live.

Some people call it smack, junk, dope.  Automobiles are very addictive.  This one is too.

I blame the truck.  It's comfortable.  The heater is divine.  Stereo.  A place for my coffee.  Did I say it has a heater???  4WD.  Huge and I will live if some fucktard plows into me.  She's an easy lover.  Heroin.  Did I say that could sleep in an extra hour?  Arrive to work dressed for work?  Honestly, I really don't want to ride that 12 miles any more.

But I need to.  I don't care about the price of gas.  Still cheap.  Keep the rpms low.  Charles Lindbergh and Chuck Sweeney taught me that trick.  I will buy a beer for the first person who can tell me about the references I just made.  Think Pacific Ocean not Atlantic.

Farm Bureau finely put the bicycle rack out.  I have only bitched about it since February.  Time to put up or shut up.

It has been 9 days since I have been on a bike.  The last ride was to Blazing Saddles to meet former co-workers.  Trust me.  Better to ride a bike to a bar than to drive.  Cabs are better still.  So the remaining days I drove.  Weekends were shitty so I did not ride.  Even the television stopped me from riding.  I watched The Pacific dvd series from HBO when I could have been out there riding.  But last week I needed to be elsewhere and the bike would not cut it.  And this dust/mold exposure almost wiped me out.  I have going to bed as early as 730 pm.

The bridge on the Des Moines River Trail

So today I made the effort.  Put the bike with studded tires away for the season and grabbed a road bike.  My 2200.  Aired the tires.  Road to my bank and hit the ATM.  Road back south and purchased required items for dinner at B&B.  Then I hit the Des Moines River Trail.  8.1 miles.  Felt great.  Just like old time.  Nearly got hit by a Buick downtown but that is to be expected.  One thing I did while I drove was to be aware of what drivers do not see.  That bastard would never have pulled out in front of me if I was in my truck.  But bikes are stealthy.  Never forget that.

Bad Dogs, Bad Owners

I have been chased by dogs countless times.  I have been bitten while riding once.  It was a Lab.  It was healed next to its owner as I passed.  But because the bad owner did not have it leashed it chased me and bit me.

Countless times I have ridden passed someone walking a dog and that dog is on its rear legs choking itself as it tries to break free to bite, lick, tackle, say hello, piss on me.  Just a cheap leash between me and Fido.  They need tasers.  Or I do.  "CALM THE FUCK DOWN!"  ZAPPPPPPPPP!!!

I know there is a fallacy in my next argument but I firmly believe that hunting dogs are the worst dogs.  I had a Lab once.  Once.  Great outside.  Took it MTBing with me all the time.  George went to the lean to with me a few times.  Unleashed.  Let her in the house and she turned into the Tasmanian Devil.  Grogan's dog, Marley.  What was that...some sort of retriever.  My mother's last few dogs, all hunting breeds.

So today I am riding and two large dobermans enter the street unleashed.  I keep an eye on them.  The owner appears as the red one spots me.  But before it changed expression the owner shouts something, both dogs turn toward him and get in a truck.  They never looked at me again.

5 minutes later Joe Whitey is walking his leashed yellow Lab.  He needed to hold the leash with both hands to hold ground.  The dog is in the classic 2 legs up and choking position despite Mr. Whitey commands.

My dog you ask?  A Great Pyrenees   Bred to protect sheep from bears and wolves.  Capable of killing both.  I am a bad owner.  I never trained her and at 13 years she is not about to be trained.  But on a leash she she is gentle to the human walking with her.  At 125 lbs without such a calm nature she'd tackle the bicyclist and drag her master/mistress with her.  Inside the house she has always been well behaved unless food is left out.

CheaterMode II

One ride this week.  It was to a gay bar to meet old co-workers.  Even then it was hell.  30 mph headwind and occasional attacks from the sand blaster.  No, just the sand from the streets blown into my face so hard that I had to use my right hand to protect it.

Shit weather and obligations.  Woke up Monday and it was cold and snowing.  Wet slick snow.  Sleep more and drive.  I had to use 4WD to get up Ingersoll.

Tuesday.  Cold and windy.  24 mph wind from the NW would add another 20 to 30 minutes to the commute.  Needed to drive truck to childhood home and evacuate furniture and other lost dusty treasures.  Riding a bicycle to work would delay my departure by over an hour.  Drive.  Perfect excuses

Wednesday.  Really cold, teens, with strong headwind to work, again.  Sleep.  Drive.

Thursday.  Another run to Ottumwa.  Another load of childhood memories and shit to haul back.  Drive again.

Friday.  Got home late.  Pick Timmy up after work.  Drive.

I am 13 miles shy of 1200 miles for the year.  This has been the first week in a long time that I did not get 100 miles.  Sure, I will get the 13 this weekend, but that would only put me at 16 for the week.  Have not been this bad since mid January through March of 2007.  Even in June of 2010 with a broken collar bone I made an effort.

This was called Spring Break for many.  Felt like Winter Break.  Always next week...It's been Winter for a full year, I've done enough.

Radio Dead Iowa

Been in cheater mode too much lately.  One thing I notice about driving cars is that I drive with one hand on the wheel and one on the "seek" button on the radio.  If I am on a long trip I will bring a CD or 2.  But CDs are a pain in the ass.  i always worry about scratching them.  Dropping them too.  So I play with the radio.

Honestly, I can't find a fucking station to make my ears happy.  I have been bombarded with classic rock all my life.  It's what we play at work.  So that kills 94.9, 93.3 and 100.3.  The last one plays the same songs every day.  I could go the rest of my life without ever having to listen to Styx, Queen, Kansas REO Speedwagon again.  93.3 plays Elton John every hour on the hour.  It's dull.  I dislike modern hip/hop/rap/Beyonce/bling that seems to be popular.  I wish Train and all the wannabes would get hit by a train for being over played.  Bruno can go to Mars and stay there.  Lazer FM?  See classic rock and add wannabe.  Never cared for grunge.  Not extreme enough.

The other evening I ended up on a KJJY country station because I liked the guitar and the fact that all of these songs were new to me.  But since then I swear they played 10 minutes of commercials.  Never again.

I tried 99.1 KFMG but usually they are playing songs in Spanish when I am out in the vehicle.  Not my ear candy although I heard a great Columbian band doing a Eurodisco track but the announce did not state their name slow and clear enough for the gringo to catch.

That brings me back to public radio.  Tuned in to some great music last night only to be destroyed by a pledge drive.  the one time I actually tune it in I get the commercial!  So I hit "seek" again.

Today I settled on 89.3.  Old rap and dance tracks and hip hop.  "Lady's Night" added some pleasure.  Dora thought I had lost it.

Who knows.  Two weeks ago I had the children's station on.  Beats Kate Perry and Smelly Clarksen.  Still have not heard the harlem Scuffle or Crazy Frog.