No way it was January

I slept fitfully last night. The wind was howling from midnight to 2:30. Just when I thought I was in the clear, WHOOSH!!!

Today was about 30 degrees colder than yesterday. The winds had changed direction and was now coming from the northwest. This meant that my morning commute would be every bit as difficult as my ride home last night. I rode Big Nellie for the last bike commute of the month. The fairing on the front makes a decent wind shield. Despite the headwind I broke 30 miles per hour on the Park Terrace Drive downhill.

Coming through Dyke Marsh I had to stop again for the sunrise. My name is Rootchopper and I’m a Dawnaholic.

There was no use trying to go fast. It wasn’t going to happen this morning.

The National Park Service keeps cutting a slot in the beaver dam north of Slaters Lane. Good thing too. All that rain and the high tide had the beaver pond overflowing its banks right up to the edge of the Mount Vernon Trail. This section of the trail was repositioned a few years ago because of flooding. The old trail was under a foot of water.

North of the airport the real work began. The wind really hammered me from here to Rosslyn. At the Humpback Bridge, I relaxed my hold on the handle bars. A gust caught the fairing and turned the front wheel to the left. Good thing no one was trying to pass me.

I saw a great blue heron in its hiding spot at the end of the TR Bridge boardwalk. If I were you, I’d head south, Dude.

On the sidewalk in Rosslyn, the buildings turned the wind direction to my rear. I glided from the MVT to my office, pedalling only when I needed to start up at a traffic light.

The ride home was a whole lot easier. The wind was to my back and side. I took it easy. It was in the 40s and my body was wondering what the heck happened to spring.

Today was the 18th and final commute for the month of January. All told I rode Big Nellie 11 times to work. Little Nellie got the call the other 7. My total mileage for the month was 598.5 miles, all of it outdoors. That’s some kind of personal record. Last January I rode 9 times to work and totaled under 450 miles.

My longest ride of the month was 32 miles. My commuting mileage was 533, which means I did very little weekend riding.

I won’t be riding tomorrow. I will be driving so I can see my daughter perform in a play tomorrow night. I have to kill a couple of hours before the play begins, so I will celebrate mi enero grande with a taco platter and a cerveza at Cactus Cantina.

Burb.

Incoming!!!

All good things must come to an end, but they sure started out nice. It was in the 50s this morning when I left the house so that meant only one thing: SHORTS! Few things make a bike commuter’s day like shorts in January, unless, of course, you’re bike commuting in Auckland.

Rain was forecasted for the evening rush so Little Nellie got the call. The strong southerly wind meant that we’d get a nice assist all the way to the office. With such good conditions, I hit the road ten minutes early.

Whenever I ride I first squeeze my tires to make sure they have proper pressure. The rear tire on Little Nellie apparently has a very slow leak. When I started bike commuting I only had one bike. Flats were a total hassle. Now, with three bikes, I can always switch in the event of a problem and fix it later. No worries though; this rear tire seems to hold air for several days.

Loverly ride, all the way in. The scary evening forecast kept the scardy cats off the trail. No bald eagles. No prehistoric garbage trucks. No idiot drivers. Nothing to get hung about. Strawberry fields forever.

Begining about two p.m. my officemates and I started obsessing about the approaching storms. The line of storms ran from central PA to the Gulf of Mexico. It was only a couple hundred miles wide and the doppler radar showed a long line of severe weather. It resembled the derecho that came through last summer except that it wasn’t tracking west to east. Instead it seemed to be drifting to the northwest.

My boss is a bike commuter. He bailed out at 4. He drops off and picks up his daughter during his commute. About 15 minutes later I decided to roll. The skies looked threatening. There was an intermittent drizzle fallling.

I turned onto the Mount Vernon Trail and began the slog into the gusting wind. The drizzle stopped after about 20 minutes. I unzipped my jacket and plodded along. It wasn’t a lot of fun but at least that nasty storm was staying away. It was all very anticlimatic. I’ve ridden in much worse weather than this including a couple of tornado warnings. (In both cases I didn’t know at the time.)

As I turned off the trail and headed due west for home, the nasty storm was laid out before me. Ten minutes later I had stashed Little Nellie in the shed and was inside. I checked the radar; the storm got hung up about 50 miles northwest of DC.

It’s a comin’.

As I type this we are under a tornado watch.

Send lawyers, guns and money. The shit’s about to hit the fan.

Snow Fail

Here’s the short version: Snow on ground. Side roads untreated. Rode my bike anyway. One mile later. Crash. Ow. Ride home. Fail

The full version goes like this:

Over night we had a lovely snowfall. There was about an inch of very fluffy snow that barely covered the lawn. It was so beautiful outside that I just had to bike to work. I chose Little Nellie for this adventure because a long wheel base recumbent with its lightly weighted front wheel is an invitation to a crash in slick conditions like this. And I didn’t want to muck up The Mule’s new drivetrain.

I also decided to switch to my lobster gloves. These are like mittens with two finger spaces instead of one. This allows better control of the brakes and such. Unfortunately, they are a little on the small side and, as I discovered not 2 minutes into the ride, they are worthless in cold temps. I think they would work better if I had a bigger size so that the air could circulate around my fingertips. As it is, they are a waste of fabric.

I rode out of the neighborhood on the fluffy stuff. There were not many car tracks so I managed to ride without trouble. The main road was well treated and I had no difficulty at all riding on it. I took a left onto untreated Karl Road and made the turn without problem. It occurred to me that it might be best to stay on treated roads, but most of my commute is on side streets and trails anyway. No guts, no glory. Onward.

I made it up the short hill without slipping and took a right on Shenandoah, another untreated side street. I rode up a second rise without incident. So far so good. At Fairfax Drive I decided to take a left. A car ahead of me turned left and seemed to be taking a long time negotiating the turn. Dude, hurry up. The bottom half of my glasses were fogged up so I couldn’t see that the compacted snow at the intersection which has a stop sign was iced over. I felt my front wheel slide and looked down and watched as it lost contact in slow motion on the glazed snow. Down I went. I hit and slid, dissipating the impact. My helmet actually made contact with the ground. This is the first time I have ever hit my head in a bike crash. No worries though, just a flesh wound.

If my brain was damaged, it sure wasn’t affecting my thinking. Screw this!!! I headed back home VERY CAREFULLY. At the top of the slight downhill to the T intersection at Karl Road I watched a car make a left onto Shenandoah. The car was probably going less than 10 miles per hour but it slid across Shenandoah and hit the curb with a CRACK. Bummer dude. Good thing Fairfax County delayed the opening of school because that car hit the curb at a school bus stop. Good thing I was going super slow because that crack could have been my femur. Ick.

The rest of the ride home was without incident. My bike commute was a whopping 1 3/4ths miles, but I lived to ride another day.

As I write this some 12 hours later, my upper body still feels a bit achy from the impact. The outside of my left knee along the iliotibial band is sore and stiff. Vitamin I to the rescue.

During the drive home I noticed that the Mount Vernon Trail still has some stretches with snow. I am driving to work tomorrow. The Millenium Falcon is far better suited to deal with this than my left knee and head.

Cold as a Goose

You know that if Canada geese are miserable, it’s cold outside. They were and it was. I rode in anyway. I suppose this means that your average Canada goose has more common sense than me. You can add ducks and herons to that assessment while you’re at it.

I toyed with the idea of adding some thermal protection to my personal parts this morning. I have these oversized synthetic socks that are pretty warm. They are about two feet long. I thought about putting one in my shorts. Then I realized that I might actually have to explain pulling two feet of green fabric out of my underwear in the locker room at work. I’m not self conscious about much but pulling two feet of sock out of my drawers is well over the line in my book.

It was lonely out there this morning on the Mount Vernon Trail. The air temperature was actually lower than yesterday morning but there was very little wind so Big Nellie and I made decent time. I had to weave through the Catholic SUVs at St. Mary’s School for the Prevention of Polar Icecaps. The cold made the SUVs somewhat docile so that none of them tried to eat me.

The ride through Old Town and up the Mount Vernon Trail was actually quite pleasant. I tried using chemical hand warmers in my mittens. This helped a little but I think it would be wise to use these things within two years of purchase. The wind picked up when I cleared National Airport but it was still tolerable, except to the water fowl. The geese and ducks were bobbing in the river close to the river bank in a big mass. I can’t imagine this clustering of birds adds any warmth to their bodies. Misery loves company even among ducks and geese.

A little further on where I saw a great blue heron cowering in the cold on the river’s edge, I saw the same heron with another a few feet away. The second heron looked every bit as cold as the first. I am no bird expert but I do believe great blue herons are not cold weather creatures. They should be down in the Okeefenokee Swamp. Too late now.

I survived the Rosslyn Circle of Certain Death today both coming and going. Some days I get lucky.

I left work a little late and still had a few minutes of daylight. I do believe I could get use to this. Despite the cold the ride home was pretty darnn enjoyable. There were a few bike commuters out but no ninjas. Ninjas are wimps. There were several people running and walking on the trail but they were wearing reflective clothing and were easy to spot. I cut the corner on my evening commute. My total mileage was a little over 28 miles for the day.

Tonight, it may snow. It could snow an inch. Strangely, the local TV stations have yet to go to Def Con One. I like to ride while it’s snowing. Once the snow gets packed down, it becomes impractical to ride. 28 miles in the snow simply takes to much time. I might actually have to drive to work. What is this world coming to?

It’s a Bike Commute, Charlie Brown

I woked up and went out to get the newspaper. It was cold outside, windy too. This was going to be one of those challenging bike commutes that I will tell my grandkids about. Unless, of course, my grandkids could give a damn, which they won’t.

I emptied the closet and put whatever wasn’t alive on. Working from the top down I wore a helmet, balaclava, buff, waterproof shell, the holey sweater, a t-shirt, a base layer, Smartwool arm warmers, glove liners, mittens, wicking briefs, tights, windproof pants, wool socks, shoes and over boots. I looked like Charlie Brown. I could barely move. Off to the office I went aboard Little Nellie. Little Nellie has a nice big fairing that I hoped would keep the wind off my torso.

A mile into the ride I heard a squirrel making a racket. If squirrels are pissed, you know it’s cold. The ride in was cold but there was a headwind. i mean you can’t have too much climactic misery on a bike commute. I was fearing the chill on the Park Terrace downhill which I normally take at 34 miles per hour. Today, the headwind held me to 29, a mixed blessing because the wind chill at 34 might have done me in.

I stopped on the Dyke Marsh boardwalk, removed my mittens and gloves and took this picture of the sunrise:

I hope you like it because I froze my ass off taking it.

The ride in was a bit lonely. Until I was north of Old Town, I was pretty much the only one out their on the Mount Vernon Trail. North of Old Town, the battle of the headwind really kicked in. A few bike commuters and a couple of hardy runners joined me in the bitter cold. The open areas near Daingerfield Island and north of National Airport were rough. I was making only 10 miles per hour, but I was surprisingly comfortable until the last 20 minutes. My big toes and finger tips were starting to freeze. The Canada geese were clustered in the Potomac. Hell, if Canada geese are cold you know it’s nasty outside. Under the TR bridge, less than a mile from work, a great blue heron hid at water’s edge in the growth on the riverbank. It was all fluffed up but it looked miserable with its right wing covering it’s head.

In the TR Island parking lot, I spotted a bike commuter whose bike was lying on its side. He was helping a motorist change a flat tire. Actually, he was doing all the work; the motorist was standing next to him in a winter coat looking helpless.

At the Rosslyn Circle of Death I paid forward a debt. Last week a panhanlder yelled at a car that was turning right on red without stopping from the I-66 off ramp on to North Lynn Street in the direction of Key Bridge. Today, I was waiting to cross the same intersection. A blonde woman pedestrian started ahead of me. She was wearing a long cloth coat, heavy leggings and tall black boots. I see her often at the same place. Today, she was looking down at her smartphone as she was about to step off the curb. Just before she arrived I watched three vehicles, two in the center lane, blow through the red light without stopping to make the right turn. Something told me to wait. Sure enough a fourth vehicle came up the ramp and, without so much as tapping its brakes, blew through the red light and took a right. I yelled “WAIT!” and the woman with the smartphone looked up froze. The car just missed her. As I rode past her she glanced at me. Her eyes said a silent “Thank you.” I have lost track of the number of times I have seen this happen at the exact same spot since i started working in Rosslyn 15 1/2 months ago. I simply cannot believe the Arlington police leave this intersection unattended.

The ride home was much nicer. It as just as cold but I had a tailwind. Hallelujah! Instead of slogging along at 10 miles per hour I was cruising easily at 15. Sunset is noticeable later now. I could ride all the way to Old Town without being blinded by car headlights. At the south end of Old Town, I continued on the Mount Vernon Trail to Jones Point Park. I had heard on Twitter today that a small wooden bridge on the MVT in the park was out so I rode past the traffic cones to check it out. The bridge is only 10 or 15 yards long but the near 5 yards was covered in plywood. I wonder if a car hadn’t try to drive over it.

I took the streets through the rest of Old Town and made my way back to the MVT. The rest of the ride was pleasant. Unfortunately, I now had to use my right hand to shade my eyes from the car headlights. When I got home I realized that this caused the tips of two of the fingers on my left hand to be mildly numb. Good thing I didn’t have too much riding left. Another problem was caused by gum balls. Gum trees are all over the place in Mount Vernon. Their seeds fall in little spikey balls the size of ping pong balls. Today’s gusty winds knocked hundreds of them out of the trees and onto the trail. I must have hit them all. My front and rear wheels were bouncing as if the gum balls were made of steel. I hope I still have air in my tires in the morning.

It’s supposed to be super cold and windy again. I plan on dressing like Linus. There’s nothing a blanket can’t cure.

Five and Nine

Last night, just as I finished writing my blog, my head started flopping around like a bobblehead. I was sooo tired. I went to sleep. I started to count sheep. I got to two. Eight and half hours later the alarm went off. It was as if I had been under anesthesia.

The weather reports yesterday at one point were calling for five inches of snow today. I went outside to get the paper. It was well over 40 degrees out and there was no precipitation. I somehow managed not to scream “We’re screwed!!” and run down the street waving my hands over my head in my jammies.

I headed out the door ready to ride to work with gusto, except that about 200 yards from home I realized that I forgot to put pants in my panniers. Fail. So I went back home. Sheepishly. (Two sheep references in one blog post is my limit so don’t go looking for more.)

The ride to work aboard Little Nellie was loverly. No rain. No mighty headwinds. And I was dressed for success. The holey sweater is my meterological salvation once more. I’ve got this 40 degree thing down to a science.two miles in, the plunge down the hill at Park Terrace woke my ass right up. A few minutes later on the MVT I saw the hoppy runner. He’s the regular who runs with a skip in his step. It looks like he has knee issues in one leg. He’s still seems to be doing a decent pace, maybe 8:30 a mile. He can whup me with one knee tied behind his back. (This is because I have two bad knees, a bad back and mini-keg abs.)

I rode with the Catholic SUVs this morning at Saint Mary’s School for the Environmentally Ignorant in Old Town. It’s a bit like the running of the bulls in Pamploma except beautiful Spanish women in low cut dresses are not leaning out of their townhouse windows along the route cheering me on. I do wish Old Town would up its game. Think how popular bike commuting would be. (Heterosexual women and gay men can insert your favorite hot guy in the previous sentence. This blog is inclusive, except you can’t ride on South Royal Street because that’s where all my Hispanistas will be.)

Back on the MVT north of Old Town, I turned on my autocycle program and magically appeared opposite DC and the monuments, 30 minutes later. This happens a lot to me. I have bike commutimng black outs like some skid row drunk.

(I do recall one thing. The National Park Service has once again breeched the beaver dam north of Slaters Lane. Those poor beavers work their asses off for weeks and finally get a decent pond going and thugs from the NPS come and ruin it.)

Near the Memorial Bridge I heard a fanfare of horns. I stopped and looked at Little Nellie’s odometer.

9000 miles.

Little Nellie done good.

We rode into Rosslyn nodding to our admiring fans. (Make that “fan” and disregard his tin cup, please.)

Instead of riding home in a raging storm, I experienced only a couple of not-so-raging sprinkles. I took some of my disappointment out on a driver who blocked the curb cut to the MVT at the I-66 offramp. I simpathize with these drivers. They want to take a right on red but there’s a railing on the bridge that obstructs their view. So they inch out into the crosswalk. This sort of thing can easily be fixed. Either move the railing or put up a No Turn on Red sign. Dream on.

One advantage to riding Little Nellie is that I can easily use the blinder on my helmet to shield my eyes from the headlights of the cars on the Parkway. It’s just a whole lot more pleasant than when I ride my recumbent. (Don’t tell Big Nellie.)

Tomorrow morning is the first anniversary of the Friday Coffee Club. Mrs. Folger and Juan Valdez will be there and every one will sing the Chock Full O’Nuts song. Or not. Better coffee bike commuters’ money can’t buy.

It’s Electrifying

I normally get passed by several bikes on my way to and from work. Most of these are lycra clad dudes in a great big hurry to get to or away from work. Some are simply run of the mill bike commuters who are in better shape than me. (This, of course, covers several billion people worldwide.) On my last two rides to work, I have been passed by someone who doesn’t fit the fast commuter mold.

Yesterday, I was riding up the gentle grade alongside National Airport. It’s a what cyclists call a false flat. It looks flat but it’s uphill enough to slow your speed by a couple of miles per hour. I was doing my usual 10 miles per hour along this stretch both mornings when she passed me. She’s a petite woman. She wears street clothes including a quilted winter coat. She rides a heavy looking bike with an upright seating position. She was pedaling gently. And she blew by me like I was standing still. In no time flat she was out of view taking my fragile aging male ego with her.

Today she passed me in the exact same spot. I check out her bike. The front wheel had a huge hub which housed an electric motor. A grumpy person might say that trails like the Mount Vernon Trail are not intended for use by motorized vehicles. Not me. She wasn’t harming anyone. In fact she was riding more safely than many of the Lancelots in the lycra crowd. And she was getting to work pretty darn fast.

Did the future just pass me by?

You don’t have to be a big time bike rider. Being old doesn’t much matter. You can navigate streets and trails with ease. And there are no parking problems when you get to your destination. And you get some exercise and fresh air.

As an aging bike commuter who finds his 30-mile bike commute increasingly difficult, I have to admit this electric assist thing has legs.

Or wheels.

Or pedals. .

Two for Two for Tuesday

Another day, another ride to work on Big Nellie. We sure are getting along fine these days. I once again gave the holey sweater the day off even though it was about ten degrees cooler than yesterday. After about a mile I warmed right up and was comfortable for the rest of the ride. I think I have the hang of winter now.

I decided that no two commutes would be the same. So today my route took me to the stone bridge where I picked up the Mount Vernon Trail about a mile sooner than usual. When I take this route I pass up the swooping downhill on Park Terrace. Most winters the trail is icy from the stone bridge to Dyke Marsh but this year has been so dry and warm that ice is not an issue.

On the north side of Belle Haven Park I spotted an osprey in a tree right along side the trail. It was facing me and I could see its white underside. It was all fluffed up. Show off. About a quarter mile later, I spotted a black bird flying across the trail away from the river. It was a bald eagle, probably returning from a fine fish breakfast. The eagle alit in the tree with the Belle Haven nest. Two raptors in one morning ain’t bad.

On Union Street in Old Town, I spotted Nancy Duley for the second straight day. I can always tell she’s coming because she has a single small pannier. I think it’s where she keeps her bourbon but I’m not sure.

The rest of the ride was peaceful. I graciously allowed many riders to pass me. I also took my sweet time on all the iced up boardwalks. My recumbent does not do ice very well.

On the ride home, Lynn Street in Rosslyn was packed with cars. The police had closed off the Key Bridge into Georgetown. They weren’t even letting bikes or pedestrians across. I could clearly see a stream of pedestrians coming across the bridge from DC but on the far side of the bridge. (II later learned that a man had threatened to jump off the bridge. The police talked him out of it.) I took a picture or two and headed down to the MVT. Under the Roosevelt Bridge I ran into (not literally, of course) Chris B. from Friday Coffee Club and the Ho Police block off Key Bridge ppy 100. Based on where he lives I knew he was headed for the Key Bridge. I yelled underneath my neck gaiter “Bridg is closed!” I don’t know how her heard me but I stopped and he did a u-ey and we talked briefly. He headed across the TR bridge and I made my way home. Two bike friend encounters in one commute, my second twofer of the day.

The ride home was splendiferous if a little odd. I guess that somebody might have jumped off the bridge and watched as a Park Service helicopter passed low over the river. I kept my eye out along the river side to see if anything human popped up. No bodies, just geese.

When I got home I emptied the mailbox to find my booty from the Coffeeneuring Challenge. There were two pins, one pewter pin of a coffee cup and another metal pin showing the fancy pattern from a coffee with the words Coffeenuering Challenge on it. Thanks for sending this Mary.

It’s a Trap

I left early. In the dark. It was warmish, over 40. I wore the base layer that my brother-in-law’s family gave me for Christmas instead of the holey sweater. It was perfect, like wearing pajamas.

When I reached the Mount Vernon Trail I could see police car roof lights on the GW Parkway about 1/4 mile ahead. A speeder, a Camry with two high school kids inside ,had been pulled over. They had the my-dad’s-gonna-kill-me look. Traffic was getting backed up by the loss of the right lane. I thought of calling my daughter to warn her about the speed trap, then decided against it figuring she can’t speed because the Parkway’s all clogged up.

The MVT uses the crosswalk at the intersection with the Hunting Towers Apartments’ access road. The crosswalk was filled for the second time in a month with a huge white SUV trying in vain to make a right on red, during rush hour with a view obstructed by buses waiting at the adjacent bus stop. In other words, there was no reason for the SUV to be blocking the crosswalk. I carefully rode around the front of the SUV trying my best to stay out of the parkway traffic. On Big Nellie, my right arm is just about even with the grill of this behemoth. I almost smacked it with my fist in protest. I thought better of it. This is a good thing because the driver of the behemoth could have made me road kill with a step on the gas. Instead I turned to give the driver a dirty look. I forgot about the light on my helmet. Got him right in the eyes.

On the north side of Old Town I saw Nancy Duley. Nancy has been out of action due to illness for a couple of weeks. “Hi, Nancy.” She was all smiles as usual.

A slight headwind made the rest of the ride an honest effort. As I approached the 14 Street Bridge underpass, I saw a Brompton coming up from behind at surprising speed. Thankfully, he turned off to take the ramp up to the bridge before he could pass me. Getting passed by a bike with 16 inch wheels is no way to start the work week.

At about this point I hit 100 miles for the year. Woo hoo.

At the Rosslyn Circle of Certain Doom, I cross the I-66 ramp without getting killed. Woo hoo, too. As I passed him, a panhandler said, “Nice bike.” Recumbents have fans in every demographic.

I ate lunch at Quiznos. They had really bad rock and roll Christmas music on. Midway through the meal, the Christmas music was replaced by normal, bland rock music. The holiday’s are now officially over. Thus sprach Quizno.

Last night we took the Christmas tree down. I carried it out to the curb awkwardly, managing somehow to get my face right up into that sucker. All day today my sinuses were throbbing. Guess I can add fir to my allergy list.

Since i arrived at work a little early, I left early. It was light out. Woo hoo three.

I rode down the MVT with a slight tailwind. I could tell because the planes at National Airport were taking off toward the northwest. And because I was riding in excess of 15 miles per hour. The daylight lasted into Old Town. I took the Wilkes Street tunnel at the north end of Old Town. I haven’t used it in a long time preferring the trail under the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. As I came to the far end of the tunnel, I thought “I’d better be careful.” I rang my bell and slowed. From behind the wall at the exit of the tunnel, a man with a toddler on his shoulders stepped in front of me. I said, “I guessed right.” He said with a smile, “I heard your bell.” Peace on earth. Goodwill toward bent.

Heading out of Old Town, back on the MVT, I came upon the entrance to Porto Vecchio, an upscale condominium on the river. The entrance has bicycle traffic lights that I obey because I would like to see them used elsewhere. And because traffic turning off the Parkway can crush me like a bug.

Parked across the MVT in the middle of the entrance to the condo was a minivan and a US Park Service police car. The police officer was discussing the driver’s transgressions with the soccer mom behind the wheel of the van. I was tempted to interrupt and ask the officer why he felt it necessary to conduct a traffic stop that compromised the safety of trail users like me as well as people trying to turn into the condo complex. Clearly, the soccer mom was a menace to society or he would have asked her to move into the condo parking lot where he could conduct his traffic stop in safety.

Instead of confronting him, I rode around the front of the minivan, over a raised flower bed, and went on my way. I figured that seeing a long wheel base recumbent riding like a mountain bike might clue him to the fact that his traffic stop technique needs a whole lot of work.

The rest of the ride featured many moments of blindness thanks to the headlights of cars on the parkway. We’ve only got about a month to go before this annual annoyance is over.

When I arrived at home, I mentioned to my wife that there seemed to be a lot of speed traps out today. She responded by telling me that on her way home from school my daughter got her first speeding ticket courtesy of Fairfax’s finest. We live 1/2 mile from the Mount Vernon District police station.

Should have called her afterall.

One Down, 166 or So to Go

The first bike commute of the year is in the books. Well, the book. I keep this paper journal each year and it’s in there:

#1 29 T/E Cold 37 am. Cold low 30s pm 1XBE

Decoded this means:

Bike commute number 1. 29 miles. On Big Nellie (my Tour Easy recumbent). A brief weather note. And I did my back exercises 1 time. (This is a 20 minute routine I do every morning.)

The ride itself was pretty routine. The first two miles involved my left knee becoming re-acquainted with Big Nellie. At about mile 2.5 I hit the big plunge from Park Terrace down to the Parkway. In 37 degree temps this wakes my ass right up. I was dialed in to Big Nellie at this point and took the S curve at the base of the hill at 25 miles per hour.

Whoosh.

The rest of the ride I was on autopilot. I haven’t ridden in 3 days. My legs were fresh and the bike was willin’.

Crossing the I66 off ramp at the Rosslyn Circle of Doom I had a close encounter with a right on red driver. He was in the crosswalk. I had the walk sign, he had the red light. He looked at me. I started in front of him. He started to creep forward. I turned and looked him in the eyes and said “RED LIGHT!” It’s right turn on red after a stop with no pedestrians present. Unless it’s I WANNA GET TO WORK GUY. Then the rules don’t apply and I can intimidate everyone with my big ass car. It’s in the uniform vehicle code under Section 203.2 Exemptions for Selfimportant Assholes.

I made it the remaning half mile without threat to life or limb.

The ride home was a bit chilly. The best part may have been the lingering daylight. It’s only been a couple of weeks since the solstice but the days are already longer. (Or I was halluncinating. Christmas cookies will do that to you.)

It was only a few degrees colder than this morning and the light wind was behind my back. I took me a few miles to get comfy. And I was comfy. And I was dialed into Big Nellie. It was like driving a hovercraft. Recumbents are different. A conventional bike never feels like a hovercraft. And you never get the urge to yell Yabba Dabba Dooo when you ride a regular bike. (And don’t call me Fred.)

I intended to take the short route through Old Town but I got lost in the moment and ended up riding down Union Street and under the length of the Wilson Bridge. I could still see the faintest traces of daylight behind the puffy clouds above.

I crossed over the access road to the Hunting Tower apartments. A woman was walking across the street. I thought she saw me coming. I buzzed by too close. She barked something at me. It was probably nasty. Oops. Sorry.

The ride south from there was a battle of blindness. The headlights of the cars were really killing me. I almost ran off the trail several times. And a bike approaching with two blazing lights, one on the handlebars and one on the rider’s helmet, almost fried my retinas. Dude, really?

When I arrived home I realized that tights were probably not enough coverage for my legs. Tomorrow its back to my wind pants.

Someday, I’ll take pix and post them of my adventures. I am still getting around to setting up my new laptop. Actually, I am procrastinating by reading my Christmas present (Tom Wolfe’s latest and not greatest novel). So if you need pictures, close your eyes, your pedaling away, in your hovercraft….