Tuesday, August 13, 2013
I just realized that I've been out of Seattle for 4 years now and I haven't shared any of my rural cycling experiences with this blog. I'm sorry about that, when I left, I promised to share my experiences with friends, but underestimated the magnitude of the event of moving one's family!
I have so many cycling stories, but I have one that stands out that seems uniquely rural, but could happen anywhere-
3 years ago, my cycling buddy Steve and I were out on a ride about 20 miles from home. It was March, and the weather was cold and dry, but threatening. We ignored the clouds (as any former native Puget Sounder would do). As we rolled along after a big hill, the clouds opened up and began dumping water - like monsoon dumping. A few minutes into the deluge, I flatted. We pulled off to the side of the road to fix my flat. As I struggled to open my saddle bag with numb fingers a car raced up, pulled over, and a lady ran out of her car with an umbrella and held it over us while we changed the flat.
It turned out that neither of us knew her, and she didn't try to sell us on any product, church or agenda, she was just helping out.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
Click the Bikewise.org icon to see the accident report.
Carol picked up the bike from the Fremont fire station today. I haven't seen it yet, but she made a wry comment about how I had some truin' to do. (My rear wheel is apparently toast)
I would post photo of my face, but I am afraid it would cause miscarriages.
On the positive side, I've probably acquired the ability to play some musical instrument. I just have to figure out which one. Bagpipes?
I am glad to be alive, and so far, not permanently injured. And thankful for police, EMT's, Harborview doctors and above all, Harborview nursing staff. And of course, Carol.
I am also thankful that the driver stopped after the accident. Not sure who made the call to 9-1-1 -- I assume it was she.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
I had the adrenaline rush of panic. It's been a very long time since one of my bikes was stolen. Immediately, I started mentally tallying the damage. It was an old low-end Bianchi steel frame, well-scuffed. Cheap steel fork. Sora shifters (yes, Sora), old 105/Ultegra derailleurs, 105 Octalink crank & BB, Eggbeater 2 pedals, and basic (Tiagra hubs, Alex DM18 rims, Sapim straight spokes) self-built wheels. Durano Plus tires. All in all, not a staggering loss, monetarily.
Oh, but I loved this bike. This is the bike I used for the Passport to Pain. More than that, it just feels right, like it wants to be ridden. Cheap components, but they all work happily with each other. If this bike were a dog, it would be a chocolate Lab. Ever-ready, always happy.
As I stood there with these thoughts running through my head, I happened to glance inside the nearby Jimmy John's, and saw a bike by the counter. A large-framed bike. Minimal, aggressive, and rather cool-looking. My bike.
It turns out the guys at JJ's took my bike, along with the rack it was locked to, and carried it inside. I suppose maybe they did this because the rack was not a public rack, and this was a way of getting my attention. That, they did. But, no matter. I am just so happy the bike was not stolen. Because I love this bike!
I hope your day was as good as mine.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
First, the secret will soon be out about Vashon. I can no more keep Vashon a rider's paradise by not mentioning it than Sheriff Tate could keep Boo Radley an innocent by declaring that Bob Euell fell on his knife, suh, he fell on his knife!
Second, I just have to tell you about the Passport 2 Pain.
Imagine a mountain stage of the Tour de France, with perhaps 3,000 meters of climbing, spread over, say 120 miles. Now reduce that 120 miles to 75, with the concomitant loss of recovery miles, and you have the P2P.
Or, think about the US Pro Championship parcours in Philadelphia. One hundred fifty six miles, with ten climbs up the Manayunk Wall with its (shudder) 17% grade. Now take a few of those climbs, tilt that 17% so that it exceeds 20%, shrink the recovery time to half, and you have the P2P.
Fellers, let me tell you about P2P. It's a 75-mile course that takes in more than 18 of Vashon Island's steepest climbs. For those of you who have never been to Vashon, imagine this. Sea level, 500 ft. elevation, and not much in-between. And what is in-between? Is seriously tilted. For those of you who have been to Vashon and ridden the published routes: you know that long, long climb up from the ferry? That climb is not part of the route, and hills of that grade are not considered as part of the 18. They are sous-categorie. They are what get us from one of the 18 to the next.
Now, it would be awfully funny if, after all this, I had not actually ridden the P2P. But I did. Woo doggies!