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The Mule Votes

5:30 in big red numbers. It was taunting me. My body still thinks its Daylight Savings Time. Leave me alone. 5:31. Dammit.

Suffice it to say, I left early. The Mule and I went a half mile to the middle school down the street. I parked right in front of the door to the polls. My delegate, a democrat, was standing there in a Republican cloth coat that would make Pat Nixon proud. After he finished school he rode his bike across the country. Based on his comments on an interview I gave to the Alexandria Patch online newspaper, he doesn’t quite get cycling as a means of transportation. I will endeavor to edjumacate him over the next few years.  He got my vote because he was running against someone who strikes me as a raving religious lunatic.

The line was 3 people long. I was third. Like George Halas.

I voted and collected my sticker. Do they put a gold star on my ballot or a pony sticker?

Vote by bike!

I was off to greet the rising sun. On Park Terrace a big silver SUV pulled along side me. I heard a familiar voice. It was Reba, normally a bike commuter (and Friday Coffee Club regular).  She had rolled down her passenger side window so we could have a rolling chat. More motorists should chat with cyclists. It would defuse the war on cars. After a few minutes, Reba drove away to mingle with the not-so-chatty cars on the George Washington Memorial Highway.

When I got to the highway the sun was peeking over the horizon. It stopped me in my tracks on the Dyke Marsh boardwalk.

Dyke Marsh Sunrise 11/5/2013

A mile or so further along I looked over at the tree with the Belle Haven nest. Two bald eagles was taking in the sunrise. It’s been quite a long while since I’ve seen two in that tree.

I reached down to get a drink of water. No bottle. Oops. Thirst ensued.

I buzzed along the Mount Vernon Trail seeing my regulars much farther to the north than usual, because of my early departure. Nancy “Two Sheds” Duley was startled to see me and gave me her patented wave. (Inside occupational humor.)

The rest of the ride was blissfully devoid of nasty, cold headwinds. A block from my office a Mercedes ran a red light to take a right through the crosswalk that was occupied by about 20 pedestrians, The Mule and I. (It’s legal to ride on the sidewalks in Rosslyn. I checked.)

After a day of magnificent bureaucracy, I headed out. There was still a good 15 minutes of daylight. The trees along the trail are hanging on to their fall foliage for yet another day. It’s been a good show. I tried not to think of the depressing gray and wind and cold that will become the norm for the next three months.

Then it was dark, And the business at hand was following the big white spot in the trail ahead of me. Yes, my master. It’s like riding through a virtual tunnel. Then suddenly, my house appears. Home, warm and dry.

The Return of the Ninjas

Ah, the end of daylight savings time. It was so great to ride to work in the daylight with the warm sun and a steady tailwind.  Wait! Let’s start over. It was flippin’ cold out there this morning. The relentless headwind was not so great either. It took me an entire 15 seconds to shake the fog of sleep out of my head. Sheesh.

The Mule was put back in action today thanks to a new seatpost binder bolt from Bicycle Space. Mechanic to the stars Paul was concerned that it might be too short but that’s probably because the bolt I broke and showed him might have been too long. Everything’s relative, in it’s own way, because Ray Stevens said so. Or maybe not.

It was cold on the river. A gaggle of geese was making a racket near Belle Haven Park just to stay warm. A lone cormorant swam silently out into the river looking like a sub at periscope depth. Ducks were quacking their fool heads off in the marsh north of Old Town.  It made me wonder why cormorants don’t get with the program.

I managed to get to work only ten minutes late, which was about the amount of time it took to put on and take off all the damned layers of clothing I wore. I wasn’t particularly aerodynamic but I felt like it when a guy rode by me with his bike jacket flapping in the wind like a flag in a hurricane.

The bike rack at the office was nearly full. I was shocked. I have no idea what happened. Maybe I work in a building with lots of Aussies who think it’s early summer.  Nobody said G’Day to me so maybe I’m wrong.

I left the office just as the sun was setting. Within two blocks I was shoaled. Shoaling is not allowed in Rosslyn (because I said so).  If you get to the circle of death first, I will ride on your cold, lifeless, shoaling, loathsome body.  And then The Mule will kick you in the head for good measure.

The Mount Vernon Trail was much busier in the evening. Nothing says “Lets go for a walk in our dark clothes, honey” like a cold dark night on a narrow trail with headlights backlighting everything. It was like a ninja convention. Adding to the fun, about a quarter of the cyclists coming toward me had no lights. Tonight, I will have nightmares that I am going to end up in a heap with my front wheel lodged up some ninja’s ass like its a bikeshare docking station.

South of Old Town I encountered my first deer of the rut. It was a young deer, perhaps a year or two old. Probably a doe. She stood on the left side of the trail, facing the trail, seemingly preparing to bolt across my path as I approached. I turned on my high beam. She didn’t even flinch. Until I was 15 yards away. Then she bolted. Thankfully, she turned as she did because she ran up the trail in the direction I was coming from. Deer ninjas are creepy.

Tomorrow, I get to ride to the polls. I love standing in line with my helmet on. Makes my neighbors think they are in line with a weirdo. They’d be right.

The Introverted Summiteer

Yesterday I attended the Fairfax Bike Summit, an event sponsored by the Fairfax Advocates for Better Bicycling (FABB). The focus of the summit was to explain the role of bicycling in the plans for growth in the Tysons Corner area. The underling purpose of the summit was to get the Fairfax cycling community talking to each other and to government officials. The summit was held at George Mason University (GMU). I decided to drive for a number of reasons.

First, I tweaked my left knee while dodging traffic in DC on Friday night. I’m sure it will be fine in time to do battle with the elements on Monday morning.

Second, I rode over 220 miles since last Saturday. I am TIRED! An extra two hours of sleep was definitely needed.

Third, there are no direct, bicycle friendly routes from Mount Vernon where I live to GMU. This irony is perhaps the reason why Fairfax bicyclists need to organize against the status quo. It’s only about 23 miles door-to-door but it would take me near three nerve-racking hours to get there.

Fourth, GMU is located in the middle of some of the least bike friendly environs I have ever seen. My wife and I looked at houses out near GMU in the late 1980s. We found a house we liked in a subdivision off Braddock Road, The only way to leave the subdivision was to drive. As a runner and cyclists, this was utterly unacceptable to me, 25 years ago. Today, that same subdivision is about a mile from the new commuter rail station. From what I could tell you’d still need a car to get there.

After parking my car, I walked through the GMU campus with Kristin Haldeman from the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority (a.k.a. Metro). She came to give a short presentation about the soon-to-open Silver Line of the Metrorail system. The new line will eventually go to Dulles Airport. I bought my first car in 1985. It had a manual transmission. To get used to driving the stick, I drove out to Dulles, because there was no traffic out there! Times have changed.

There were five sessions with speakers and panels of speakers. I was pleased that every one of the speakers kept my interest.

The first speaker was an urban designer who championed the smart streets philosophy: build streetscapes with people, not just cars, in mind. He also told us how local activists are persuading a middle school in upstate New York to allow its students to ride to school. (Although he didn’t say, it’s in Saratoga Springs. I’ve seen the school. The school administrators should be ashamed of themselves for banning bike commuting.)

In the first panel discussion we heard from a concerned mother who organized a Vienna Virginia neighborhood to get a network of trails built and connected. The crown jewel of this effort was a bicycle and pedestrian bridge across the Dulles Toll Road to Wolf Trap Farm Park. Her trail system will be a feeder system for the Tysons of the future. Doctor Gridlock talked about how “car may not be king, but it sits next to the throne.” He’s the self-described Dear Abby of Washington area commuters. For a guy who listens to stress for a living he’s remarkably calm. We heard from the bicycle coordinator of the Fairfax County Department of Transportation. He described how Vienna Virginia has begun to embrace everyday cycling. (They have little choice; the town’s main streets are a parking lot on weekends.) Kristin showed off the new Sliver line: five new stations, four in Tysons itself, and a fifth in Reston. The Reston station has a parking garage that will contain an awesome secure bicycle facility for over 150 bikes! They even thought about room for trailers and unconventional bikes. (Yay recumbents!)

During lunch I had a chance to check out the displays in the lobby. Lots of bike bling and interesting people milling about. I talked with Friday Coffee Club regular Pete Beers, who led a ride from Tysons to GMU earlier in the day. He is either fearless or insane. (I think he’d say “both.”) I met Greg Billing and Nelle Pearson of the Washington Area Bicyclists Association. I’ve heard of them and seen them at events but never had a chance to introduce myself. And I finally got to meet fellow blogger Elizabeth (and her fiancé Micah) . She works across the street from me in Rosslyn. We plan on being the first bike bloggers to sample the wares at the new alehouse in her office building when it opens. She had a tote bag with her that she designed and sewed herself. She is one talented person.

We had a choice for our afternoon sessions. I wanted to attend the safety session but I also wanted to hear the presentation that Nelle was so diligently pouring over at lunch. Nelle won. She didn’t disappoint. She told us about her efforts to expand the cycling community to include women, minorities and the poor. Another panelist talked about how planners need to take into account the aging population. Simple things like extra benches, more bathrooms, and curb cuts mean a lot to the elderly. Another speaker talked about how the Herndon day labor gathering place has helped its workers, mostly Hispanic and often undocumented, use bikes for daily transportation.

The second session I attended focused on how bikes are good for business. We heard from the owner of Green Lizard, an uber bike shop on the Washington and Old Dominion Trail in Herndon. I have to stop there someday and get a cuppa joe. The head of the League of American Bicyclists (LAB) (of which I am a member) discussed how its Bike Friendly Business program is getting employers to see bikes as a source of revenue and employee retention. And an official from Arlington County showed how trail sensors collect data that County officials use to influence all aspects of planning.

The summit closed with some “take aways” from the head of the LAB.

Here are my take aways:

Fairfax County is about 25 years behind the times. The number one thing it needs is re-education. Bicycles are not toys. If they are included in the transportation mix, they can reduce the need for parking and road capacity, make the citizenry healthier, improve the environment, and make the county a better place to live and work. Most of the planning involved accommodating big concentrated development. This is fine as long as we remember that people have to live in these places. People have been talking about Tysons as a successful “edge city” but they don’t realize how many people like me refuse to go there. Or Fair Oaks. These places are islands of stress that suck the life out of you. In much the same way, the US 1 corridor where I live is a traffic snarled mess. I went there on my bike today to go to a bank. The half mile stretch I rode shows very little in the way of thoughtful street design. This corridor has the oldest and poorest citizens in Fairfax. If we don’t get it right in Tysons, there is not much hope for my part of the county.

In a couple of weeks, I hope to attend a meeting on the Virginia Department of Transportation (VDOT) US Bike Route 1 study. VDOT is considering revision to the routing of this signed north/south bike route. Judging from the materials I picked up at the Summit, this should be of interest to touring .

October by the Numbers

Thanks to the government shutdown, I did much less bike commuting than usual in October. I rode to work only 11 times for a total of 338 miles. I rode The Mule on one commute and Little and Big Nellie on five commutes each. I did 581 miles of non-commute riding, mostly meanders that involved a stop for coffee. In the process, I finished the Coffeeneuring Challenge. (I am  looking forward to this winter’s Eggnoggneuring event.) My longest ride was a 64 mile ride on Big Nellie. So for those of you who are additively challenged, I rode 919 miles during the month.

The biggest difference this month was that I rode Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, 266 miles, more than I have in several months. She came out of the bullpen when The Mule came down with an acute case of broken seat post binder bolt blues. Big Nellie carried me 443 miles. Before its seat post bolt snapped under the weight of its engine, The Mule took me 210 miles. And  I finally replaced the saddle on The Mule. It had a broken adjuster bolt and was sagging  like an ass hammock. I am sending it out for repair, which means that sometime in December I should have four Brooks leather saddles (three Flyers and a B67) for two bikes.  One can never have too many leather saddles.

I have ridden 6,296 miles so far this year, including 148 bike commutes.

I took today off. My bikes are tired.

I Will Sleep No More Forever: Coffeeneuring 2013

The Coffeeneuring Challenge is in the bag! I did it so fast that I lost track of my visits. Here’s the rundown:

Day 1: Saturday October 5

Location: Port City Coffee at Eastern Market.

Brew: House roast with a chocolate chip scone.

Miles: The big 5-0

Observation: 50 miles for a cup of coffee is no problem for Big Nellie

Coffee and Scone at Port City Java
Coffee and Scone at Port City Java

Day 2: Sunday October 6

Location: Saint Elmo’s Coffee on the main drag in Del Ray, Alexandria

Brew: House roast with a blueberry and banana muffin

Miles: 64

Observation: As good as the coffee and muffin were, the ensuing root beer float was better.

DSCN2641

Bonus Day: Tuesday October 8

Location: Buzz on Slaters Lane in Alexandria

Brew: House roast with cinnamon muffin

Miles: 17.5

Observation: Cinnamon muffins always look better than they tasteGetting my Buzz on.

Day 3: Friday October 11 (Furlough day. Applying Government Shutdown rule)

Location: Swings, Home of the Friday Coffee Club

Brew: Columbian nothing on the side

Miles: 28.5

Observation: Hugo is the cutest coffeeneur hands down.

Hugo is my favorite coffeeneur
Hugo is my favorite coffeeneur

Day 4: Sunday October 13

Location: Peregrine Espresso at Eastern Market

Brew: Mexican house brew with an almond scone

Miles: 43

Observation: Gotta like a place that uses a schwa as its logo

Coffee, Scone, and Schwa
Coffee, Scone, and Schwa

Bonus Day: Monday, October 14 (Doesn’t count toward the challenge. already 2 this weekend)

Location: Misha’s at Patrick and King Streets in Old Town Alexandria

Brew: House Roast with macaroon thingie on the side

Miles: 37

Observation: Meant to go to Occoquan but was frustrated by the closure of a road through Fort Belvoir.

Misha's Coffee and Macaroon Thingy
Misha’s Coffee and Macaroon Thingy

Bonus Day: Tuesday October 15 (Doesn’t count toward the challenge)

Location: Best Buns in Shirlington

Brew: House roast (Starbucks) with a bacon cheddar scone on the side

Miles: 37

Observation: If I wanted Starbucks, I’d go to Starbucks

The scone was better than the coffee
The scone was better than the coffee

Bonus Day: Wednesday October 16 (Doesn’t count toward the challenge)

Location: Perks on North Fairfax Street in Alexandria, one block from the Mount Vernon Trail

Brew: House brew with a blueberry muffin

Miles: 15

Observation: Leather sofas are more comfortable than leather saddles.

DSCN2664

Day 5: Saturday October 19:

Location: Chinatown Coffee, H Street NW near 5th, Washington

Drink: Honduran Coffee

Miles 32

Observation: The coffee and the vibe of this place make me want to go back. Definitely one of my favorites.

Chinatown Coffee and the Post
Chinatown Coffee and the Post

Day 6: Sunday October 20:

Location: Firehook Bakery, Union Street Old Town Alexandria

Drink: French Roast (with Italian sub sandwich on the side)

Miles 14.5

Observation: No bike parking to speak of. An epic fail for a city that is supposedly a Silver Level Bike Friendly City

Firehook Bakery
Firehook Bakery on Union Street in Old Town

Bonus Day: Friday, October 25. Friday Coffee Club No.2

Location: M. E. Swings, 17th and G Streets, NW. Washington DC

Coffee: Brazilian

Miles: 32.5

Observation: It was worth the cold ride to see Kate C. and Froggie back at coffee club

Sorry no photo. Kate and Froggie remain mysterious and anonymous.

Day 7: Saturday October 26

Location: Red Truck Bakery, Warrenton VA

Brew: House roast with an orange cranberry walnut muffin

Miles: 3

Observation: Coffee was good. Muffin was sooo moist and sweet and flavorful that I am seriously considering moving to Warrenton or becoming a B&E Red Truck muffin man

Little Nellie at Red Truck Bakery
Little Nellie at Red Truck Bakery

Bonus Day: Sunday October 27

Location: Cosi on Crystal Drive in Crystal City, Arlington VA

Brew: House roast with a forbidden cookie

Miles: 29

Observation: When cheering on the Coffeeneurista, the Queen of Caffeine, as she ran the Marine Corps Marathon, one must drink the drink.

Coffeethonning in Crystal City
Coffeethonning in Crystal City

There you have it. Finis.

Coffeethonning

Riding in the cold makes you tired. So tired, in fact, that I fell asleep during the World Series game. The score was nothing to nothing when all of a sudden some pretty intense stuff started happen. It was in my subconscious, not on the field in St, Louis, I heard a roar from the crowd. It was late in the game and the score was tied. I watched the rest of the game. (The Sawx lost. Boo.)

After the game, I went to bed and came to at 7 am.  It was about ten degrees warmer outside than yesterday, perfect running weather for the Marine Corps Marathon. Not so much for riding the 10 miles to the race and standing on the sidelines. My friends Heather and Mary, both randonnistas, were running so freeze we must.

I took Little Nellie because it is the most maneuverable bike I own. I meant to ride slowly but a tailwind pushed me to Crystal City with little effort. The runners were already coming through the streets in the 23rd mile of the race. I stopped at Cosi for a coffee and a cookie. I sipped my joe and snarfed my cookie while hundreds of runners streamed past. Music was blaring. People were cheering. I checked my twitter feed. Mary had just past the 15 mile mark. I hopped on my bike and headed upstream.

Coffeethonning in Crystal City
Coffeethonning in Crystal City

I rode the Mount Vernon Trail two miles north. On the way I was passed by five BMWs, engines screaming, going perhaps twice the speed limit on the parkway next to me. I realize that not all BMW drivers are complete assholes but these five certainly were. What a great idea. Let’s drive 80 miles per hour into an area filled with distracted people milling about trying to spot their loved ones running a marathon with 30,000 other people. Brilliant.

After my ten seconds of LeMans, I ended up at the southern end of the 14th Street Bridge at about the 20.5 mile mark. The runners were thickly spread across all four lanes. Occasionally, handicapped participants would come through the pack. One man in a wheel chair of sorts was helping a blind man in a similar chair ride “run” beside him. It was astonishing to see the sighted runner holding the front of the unsighted runner’s chair. Scores of runners wore Boston Strong blue t-shirts. Go team. Some people shirts with identifying words on the front. “Go Mexico!” “Go Mariella!”

Somehow I spotted Heather in the throng. She was moving along at a respectable clip with a smooth gait but she looked a little stressed. She said she wasn’t having a good day as she went by. Hang tough, Heather.  Watching for somebody in a moving mass of people for a half an hour is really not easy. Fortunately, Mary’s husband Ed had tweeted a picture of her from mile 15. I knew what she was wearing so I could key on that. After ten or 15 minutes there she was. She had an ear to ear smile on her face. Marathon? What marathon? She stopped to chat and admired the Acorn handlebar bag on Little Nellie. And then she was gone in the flow of humanity.

I jumped on the bike and headed for the 25 mile mark at a curving ramp coming downhill from Washington Boulevard. I cheered on the same people as on the bridge. Mexico and Mariella came running by. “GO!!” They smiled at me in recognition of my cheering on the bridge. The downhill was causing some runners distress in their thighs. They ran stiff legged and wobbly. Heather came by in a fast moving group. She looked much better than before. “Go Heather GO!”

After Heather went by I focused on finding Mary again. I started to worry after about 45 minutes. I decided to check my Twitter feed. She had finished 25 minutes earlier. Somehow I missed her. She must have blasted the end of the race. Mary, you da man. (Or something like that.)

With temperatures climbing near 60 degrees I thought about doing some sun tanning. Instead I peeled off my boots, long-fingered gloves, and neck gaiter, hopped on the bike, and headed for home.

29 miles of coffeethonning in the books.

Coffee and Pumpkins and Bikes, Oh My

It was cold. It was Friday. Warming up would require a bike ride and hot coffee. Fortunately, Friday Coffee Club was on the agenda. I rode Big Nellie to Swings and found that the cold had not stopped the fearless bike commuters of DC from attending. They, however, did move the proceedings inside for the first time since late winter. It was good to see Adam (a.k.a. Froggie) back on dry land after spending months at sea in his job as Tweeter First Class aboard the USS iPad. Kate, who had just completed the graveyard shift as an underpaid public servant, was also in attendance. She had ridden Kermit, the bike I would be most likely to steal but for its pink handlebar tape. Welcome back, you two.

Friday’s workday came and went. During the ride home I was going over a checklist of things to do in preparation for Saturday’s Great Pumpkin Ride in Warrenton VA. Thing number one was raise the seat on The Mule. This went really well until I tried to tightened the seat post bolt that would keep the seat where I done raised it to. The bolt wouldn’t tighten. I jumped in the car and drove to Spokes Etc. to get a replacement. It turns out the bicycle industry no longer uses this seat post retention system. Spokes didn’t have a bolt. I drove home and decided to ride Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist instead.

Saturday morning was so cold that I didn’t bother to look at the thermometer. The drive to Warrenton involved a 15 mile detour caused by VDOT’s brilliant decision to close one of the exits on I-66. I lucked out and found a parking space only a couple of blocks from the start.

As I was getting ready to leave the car, the guy in the car next to me says, “Are you Rootchopper?” It turns out he is known online as Consularrider and he works in the building next to me in Rosslyn. Small world. After a brief chat, I took off to pick up my t-shirt and cue sheet. I decided to ride the 43 mile ride instead of the 71 miler. After doing the check in, I headed out for a brief tour of Warrenton. Old Town Warrenton is quaint and small, but I managed to get lost anyway. After about 3 miles or riding I pulled into Red Truck Bakery. I had a coffee and an orange cranberry walnut muffin. The coffee was okay but the muffin was mouthwatering. Readers of the blog may find this familiar since I had the very same thing last year. It is still the best damned muffin in the universe.

Little Nellie at Red Truck Bakery
Little Nellie at Red Truck Bakery

After muffinpaloosa, I headed back to the start of the ride where I was hoping to find John Roche, creator of the Hoppy 100 bike rides. I learned from the check-in desk that John was long gone. Bob Cannon and his son Jeremy soon appeared and in short order the three of us were underway. Bob and Jeremy set a very brisk pace. After about five miles I slowed to my normal slog and took in the scenery. Last year the foliage was post peak; this year most of the trees were green. It didn’t much matter because this is the Virginia Piedmont, the kind of countryside you see in coffee table books: split rail fences, rolls of hay drying in the fields, Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance.

I reached the first rest stop. It was Cannon-less. It was also foodless so I topped off my water bottle. Before leaving, I raised my seat a couple of millimeters to get more extension out of my legs. The bolt didn’t break. Yay. Back on the road I was alone with swirling winds and rolling hills. The hills are just the right size to hill hop, zoom down one hill then use the momentum to ride all the way up the next.

The next stop was at the Elk Run Anglican Church. Oh. My. God. Cookies, brownies, hot pretzel sticks, nuts, M&Ms, and more. To wash it down they were serving hot apple cider. I hate cold apple cider, but this sweet, hot drink totally hit the spot. The Cannons were here. So was Consularrider. And John Roche. Chat ensued. I split off to talk to a guy with a faired Gold Rush, a lighter weight aluminum version of Big Nellie. I did my best not to drool on it.

By the time I rejoined the posse, Consularrider (who was doing the 71 mile ride) and the Cannons were gone. John Roche and I headed out as a duo. Before leaving the rest stop, I nearly flipped my bike over backwards when I caught the rear wheel in a roadside drainage ditch. A cop sitting in his nearby car had a good laugh. He said I wasn’t the only one.

John and I gave the ride an honest effort. We had a steady tailwind for what seemed like two or three miles (yay!)  then it was in our face again (boo!). John’s better at hills so he would speed ahead on the rises and I would catch up a mile or two later. On one of the downhills, the Gold Rush went by us in a blur. Dang, that bike can fly.

Our next stop came at Poplar Springs, a vineyard up a windy hill from the main road. On the climb up, we caught and passed Gold Rush.  Recumbents can’t climb for beans. As the famous cyclists Milton Friedman once said, “There ain’t no such thing as a free downhill.”

This rest stop had tables of food, hot cider, and pumpkin soup. It looked like many of the riders were preparing for an overnight stay. Nom. Nom.

As we were preparing to leave, my grad school roommate Paul and Amy, his significant other, appeared. They were doing the 23 mile ride. Given the food at this rest stop, I think they might have gained a pound for their efforts. They were last seen falling into a food coma near the pumpkin soup.

The Cannons blasted down the road and John and I made rather pathetic chase. We found out that Jeremy, a high school hockey player dressed in street clothes, was chasing down lycra-clad triathletes on their fancy carbon fiber bikes. I’d have loved to have seen the look on their faces when this kid in jeans got on their back wheels.

The Cannons were out of sight  in no time. No worries. This stretch of the route had some honest to god foliage. Pedal, pedal. Pretty, pretty.

After passing a couple of women wearing capes, we rolled into the finish. There was more food! And massages. And antique bikes. We hung out in the hopes that the sun would warm us. No dice. We went our separate ways. Back at the car, Consullarrider was preparing to go out for another ride – to get his 100 miles in for the day. I would have joined him but I am sane and there was heat in the car!

On the way home, I visited several bike shops to find a new seat bolt. No luck. The Mule now sits at home looking sad, off in the corner of the shed, its seat pushed all the way down to the top of the frame.  No worries. One of the shops is getting some bolts in this week. The Mule will ride again.

For pix of the ride (beware: Food porn ahead) check out my set on Flickr.