woof!
I took a run at the Black Dog time trial last night, representin’ Hiawatha Cyclery with Jim, on his first time trial run. We, along with Boone’s Farm, represented the “vintage” (though mine is only 4 years old) bike and Brooks saddle contingent. Jim rode his 1967 Holdsworth custom set up with Record-hubbed tubulars and aero bars while Mr. Farm was on his Raleigh International with Sturmey AM hub gear. There should definitely be a vintage category for cool bikes like this.
I turned in a respectable 19:23, achieving my sub-20 minute goal. Unlike last time i TT’d, i did a better job of pacing myself and holding a steady speed throughout… maybe too good, i probably could have picked it up a tick overall, but it let me finish out with a bit of a sprint, which is always fun. I did finish 16 seconds faster than 2 years ago. Ray was right on my heels, time-wise, must be that teardrop helmet of his… along with actually doing Black Dog all season while i was slacking off.
The only downside of the evening was totally whacking my forehead on my bike while getting ready to take it off the roof rack. I currently have a lovely brake lever-shaped crease coming down from my widow’s peak. Fun times.
Wirth robbery follow-up
It’s been surprising how easy a lot of the aftermath has been. Bank card canceled, new one on the way. $11 and 10 minutes at the DMV, new license on the way and a temporary for now. Car window fixed, no deductible. The biggest hassle by far has been trying to file a damn police report.
When it happened, the naturalist at the park called the Mpls police, and the police person said i could either call later or file a report online, which seemed good because i had the girls with me and i wanted to get home to cancel my bank card. When i got home, i called only to get a message that there weren’t any dispatchers there on a Sunday afternoon to take the report. So i tried the online system, but their website app wouldn’t recognize Wirth Park as being in Minneapolis; not listed as a park, the address of the garden not recognized. So i called the police line again today, and the Mpls Police person said it was actually Golden Valley’s jurisdiction. Called Golden Valley, no no, it’s actually in Mpls. I called the Garden and asked who they belonged to, and they said to try the park police. Called the park police and they said, nope, should have called 911 right when it happened, call the MPD again. So i give up, the snake is eating it’s own tail and incompetence wins again.
I should note that at each step along the way, every person i talked to was absolutely convinced that they were right and the last person was wrong. No doubt in their mind, they knew what they were talking about, unbelievable how dumb other people can be, etc. Right, it’s the other one who’s the problem.
bad carma
(no, that’s not mis-spelled) I just need to leave the car parked. Twice in the last month i’ve had car incidents with ensuing cost and grief. First i had a dumb fender bender on the way out to visit my brother west of town. It was stop-n-go traffic at rush hour, and during a split second looking at the clock, everyone in front of me stopped… but i didn’t. That got fixed a week or so ago, and then today while i was with the girls at the flower garden in Wirth Park, some cretins broke out the passenger window to grab my small courier bag from the front seat. The bag isn’t a huge loss, but they got my wallet, cell phone and prescription sunglasses. Assholes. They also broke into another car in the lot at the same time, and apparently Wirth has been a particular crime magnet this year.
It’s not like i’ve been driving a lot, but my incident-per-mile rate has skyrocketed lately, after years of no trouble at all. I think the world is telling me to get off my ass and get my average annual driving miles back into the respectable 5-digit range again.
what is oil, anyway?
Here’s a question i’ve wondered about myself. It seems unlikely that there were that many dinosaurs or layers of algae piled up over the millenia in just the right conditions to create lakes of oil underground. Here’s a short, interesting discussion of the idea that it’s either abiogenic in origin (according to the Russians), or generated by bacteria. You’d think that after 100+ years of oil research that we’d have a better answer to this. It’s sort of a core question in the whole peak oil debate.
Between this and the recent bacteria-powered batteries, it looks more and more like the next wave of tech advances are going to come from some of our tiniest co-habitators. How dumb will we look for the whole antibacterial soap thing when we’re embracing and farming bacteria as a way of life?
I love the whole idea of science coming full circle, that the more we learn about our planet, plants and animals, the more solutions we find right under our noses (or in them, as the case may be). Our future might indeed not be a computerized, mechanized world, but a world that looks much simpler and more agrarian than we have had in centuries.
the Red Wing ride: I love it when a plan (b) comes together
(gmapped route from Jim, click for bigger version)
The plan for yesterday had been to reprise last year’s 1-day tour; taking the train to Winona then biking home. Then it rained a lot, and the train we’d need stopped running for a while. Then the bridge over the Mississippi at Winona was closed. Oh sure, there were the teasing possibilities that trains would begin running again before Sunday or that ferry service would allow us to cross the river, but no luck. Train service is still suspended, and none of us wanted to toss our bikes in the bottom of a bus. The ferry service was stopped when the bridge was re-opened to limited car traffic, but not to bikes or pedestrians. So we punted.
Plan B was to just ride from the Twin Cities to Red Wing and back for the day, and it was a fun fun trip. The weather was perfect, the food was way above average, and the company terrific. Five of us made the trip, and it was the first century ride for both Brian and Tracy. No mechanicals, no bonks or serious cramps or crashes, just a nice long day of riding with excellent friends. And the accompanying sore muscles, sore butts and bugs in the teeth.
After meeting up at Hiawatha Cyclery (and me running late), we headed out about 9:30, first to Afton for some ice cream and more sunscreen, and off to Prescott. We decided to make a loop of the trip, so after a delicious lunch at the Boxcar cafe near several dozen of our Harley-riding 2-wheeled cousins, we headed down 35 on the Wisconsin side.
It was delightfully cool and breezy after several hotter days lately, and we got a brief, light rain shower that was just enough to be refreshing. We kept on through the lush valleys and across the open green fields with only a couple of short breathers until Red Wing, where we made a longer water and ice cream stop for our halfway point. It was about 3:30 on arrival, and after about an hour of refueling we were heading west, on our way down the Cannon Valley trail.
We were all waning a bit after the long climb up from Welch and the headwinds going north to Hastings, but the cookies that Jim’s wife Lindsay had baked were the key to pushing through. The half-assed paceline helped some too. In Hastings we were hungry and a bit tired, and opted for italian rather than the various options for bar food. We didn’t totally fit in to a place with cloth napkins, being sweaty and stinky from 100 miles (by my odometer, riding to the shop from home) of riding, but it was a very good dinner and rest stop.
Leaving Hastings with bellies full of pasta, we headed off into the sunset under orange-tinted skies and calmer breezes. We wound our way through the outskirts of town in good spirits, and somewhere in Mendota Heights the group split up between those heading to Mpls and we heading to St. Paul. Cresting Smith Ave. and seeing the downtown skyline was a glorious sight, and after 125 miles the spin up the hill at Grand Ave. seemed like no big deal.
We finished up earlier than last year with a slightly shorter trip; i got home at 11pm with 131 miles on the clock and just enough energy for a shower and a beer, and then to sleep.
George Carlin dead at 71
One more time, everyone:
Shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker and tits.
a solution to the squirrel problem
One recurring forum/email thread that i always find interesting is that of the squirrel -vs- bike encounters. The typical scenario is that someone is just riding along, and a squirrel decides that they can beat the train across the intersection, so to speak, and gets caught in the wheel spokes of the bike. It would be hilarious but for the fact that people have been seriously injured, paralyzed or killed in this situation.
Typically, the squirrel will get caught in the front wheel, which means it will inevitably be pulled around until it meets the fork. Despite the inherent momentum of the bike (this seems to happen at a good speed), the squirrel’s body is surprisingly tough and rather than cleanly (or messily) ripping in two will lodge there. This obstruction stops the front wheel instantly, which, predictably, sends the bike rider over the bars.
Except when it doesn’t. In some cases where a bike has a carbon fork, it can be worse. Carbon fiber parts are designed for the stresses of the application. A bicycle fork has stresses evenly distributed between the bottom of the headset and the fork tips where the wheel connects, and they’re pretty well understood. Carbon fiber can do this job well, because the strands are laid out and multiplied to account for this stress.
The problem is that carbon fiber is lousy with impact resistance. An impact that might dent an aluminum or steel tube will often crush or at least crack a carbon tube. This is the case with the squirrel: that carbon fork wasn’t meant for the reverse force of an object hitting it from behind, and so it snaps like a fresh pretzel stick.
Lots of people will blame the fork, saying that carbon fiber is not durable enough for a fork, and a steel fork wouldn’t have that problem. Well, steel forks break too, but i generally agree. The blame is misplaced though, as the real problem lies in the spokes.
If you study the gamut of squirrel -vs- bike incidents as long and as closely as i have, you will notice that a common thread is the very low-spoke-count wheels being used in virtually every case. Bigger gaps in the wheel = more space for squirrels. Hell, you could probably fit a badger through those new Shimano wheels. With traditional, old-skool 32- or 36-spoke wheels, there just isn’t space in which the squirrel can solidly lodge. Oh, they might lose a leg or something, but they’ll live to kill themselves another day, as will the cyclist.
So, the problem is the wheels, and the solution you say is a strong return to traditional, quality handbuilt wheels with strong squirrel-resistant spokes in a multitude of attractive styles. Or more radically, disk wheels, which remove the gaps altogether. No, sir/madam, the solution is the new Ginsu Wheel.
With the Ginsu Wheel any obstruction, whether from the rodent family or simply a stick from a joking fellow cyclist, will be cleanly chopped into little bits, sparing the lives of cyclists living in squirrel-overrun areas, sparing the poor squirrel a prolonged and painful death, and providing an easy, nutritious, pre-tenderized meal for lazy scavengers. Ginsu-spoked wheels are tough enough to shred beer cans, but ride as smooth as warm Bag Balm. Available with as few as 12 spokes, saving valuable grams from your wheelset while staying safe from indecisive rodents. The Ginsu Wheel, ask for it by name!
And, for you do-it-yourselfers hopelessly attached to your current hub and rims, ask your LBS to order the Ginsu spoke set. Easily squirrel-proof your classic ride with spokes available in a full range of lengths for all applications.
* Ginsu spokes are not meant for culinary use.
** The Ginsu corporation does not encourage cyclists to seek squirrels while riding.
*** Please use common sense precautions when adding air to a tire on a Ginsu-spoked wheel to avoid injury.
**** Ginsu spokes are not recommended for bikes intended for use in derby, track, bmx or cyclocross events.
***** Sharpener sold separately.
late night traffic light studies
The maddening thing about traffic signal sensors is that, according to the city engineers that i’ve heard from, they should work as well for bicycles as for cars, it’s just a matter of properly setting the sensitivity. In my experience riding a local stretch of road at all hours of the day and night, the sensors are being over-ridden or ignored during traffic peaks yet seem to work fine in the middle of the night.
Twice recently i’ve ridden along a stretch of road (Hamline, between University and Grand) where the lights all changed to green as i approached, without even slowing, at around 2-3am. Riding that part of the same road during the daytime, even directly over the sensors, doesn’t seem to have any effect on the light change interval. Once was a nice coincidence, but having it happen twice, and through multiiple lights, makes me think that the technology is fine but that cycling traffic (and pedestrians, based on how effective the walk signal buttons work) are deprecated to the point of being ignored most of the day.
It makes legislation like this seem a lot more reasonable, though that would be most applicable in exactly the situations where the signals seem to work best: when there’s no traffic to compete with. Still, I couldn’t count how how many times i’ve sat waiting to get across Hiawatha Ave, the crossing button utterly useless as the minutes tick by without a car on the road. I know i can get myself across, but it would be nice to know that there wouldn’t be a chance of a ticket waiting for me on the other side of the street.
The Last Traffic Jam
An insightful tidbit from 1947 - some people were sick of cars even then (via Time Magazine)
The average U.S. citizen completely ignores the regularity with which the automobile kills him, maims him, embroils him with the law and provides mobile shelter for rakes intent on seducing his daughters. He takes it into his garage as fondly as an Arab leading a prize mare into his tent. He woos it with Simoniz, Prestone, Ethyl and rich lubricants—and goes broke trading it in on something flashier an hour after he has made the last payment on the old one.
Personally, i prefer seducing daughters on the bicycle, but maybe that’s just me…
juxtaposition
Yesterday afternoon, a car heading north on West 7th, esso asso maneuver when the light changed red, license plate: NAMASTE