Category: Uncategorized

Chains Got a Hold on Me

I’ve been riding Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, pretty much exclusively since the second week in June.  All was going along swimmingly until tonight I started to feel my chain skipping ever so slightly. Unlike a conventional bike, this kind of skipping is not so obvious on Big Nellie because the chain is actually more than 2 chains long. Never the less, the skipping was there and that usually means that something is amiss with one of the links. The skipping occurs when the chain passes through the pulleys of the rear derailleur and the chain idler (this is a set of pulleys located about midway along the run of the chain to take up slack).

As I was spinning up the Park Terrace hill at a robust three miles per hour, I spotted an abnormality in the chain. The chain held together for another three miles until I got home. I then examined the chain and spotted one link that seemed wider than the others. I wiggled the link and a piece of one of the outer plates on the link fell off. Fug.

I didn’t have time to screw around with it so I decided that Big Nellie will get a rest until I can find two spare hours. (It would take a competent mechanic about ten minutes to fix a chain but I am not that kind of guy.) I have already watched two DIY chain repair videos and I must say that the people that make these things suck at instructional videos. I have, however, learned one thing that I didn’t know: you need to use something to hold the chain and give it some slack so you can work on the broken part. One video suggested an old spoke bent in appropriate places.

In the meantime, The Mule comes out of dry dock for a ride to Friday Coffee Club. It will be carrying an extra pound or two of tomatoes for friend of the blog Kirstin. I believe this may be the last of the tomato piles for the summer. The plant is starting to look weary.  A plant is only as strong as it’s weakest link.

 

“It’s a GPS!!”

I was riding home up South Union Street in Old Town when I came to a four way stop. An SUV on my left had rolled to a stop then moved forward a bit and stopped again. I came to a stop and looked at the driver to make eye contact before entering the intersection. I could see he had a Blackberry in his right hand and he was looking at it. As I rolled forward I motioned to him and mouthed the words “Hang up your phone.”  A few seconds later I was clear of the intersection to his left, I could hear him yell angrily at me as he drove on his way, “It’s a GPS!!!”

As I continued home, all I could think of his, “What a jerk. He’s distracted AND lost and he thinks that makes it legal.”  Just to satisfy myself, I looked up the law when I got home. I’ll be damned if he isn’t right. The law applies to texting but it clearly excludes operating a GPS. Brilliant.

The law provides an exception for:

“The use of factory-installed or aftermarket global positioning systems (GPS) or wireless communications devices used to transmit or receive data as part of a digital dispatch system…” (§ 46.2-1078.1.B.3)

The wording implies that the GPS is installed in the vehicle,e but it leaves ambiguous hand held devices operating as GPS devices. The law explicitly excludes typing for the purposes of communicating with another person but not with a computer application.

So, if you get pulled over for texting in Virginia, just say “It’s a GPS!” 

In unrelated news, about 2 miles from home I rode by a house with a nice big lawn. I heard a buzzing sound. It was a robotic lawn mower cutting the grass.

Can we go back to maps and push mowers please? This modern world is too damned complicated.

 

Bugs, Bikes, and ‘Toes

I spent the weekend feeding bugs in West Virginia. It was Mrs. Rootchopper’s family reunion and ten bazillion bugs showed up to keep us all company. I had to take several blood breaks. That’s what you call going indoors to clean the blood off your legs from all the bug bites.

Monday was yet another swampy day. The ride isn’t bad but once you stop you sweat uncontrollably. When I arrived back home, I harvested three days worth of tomatoes from my runaway roma tomato plant.  Prodigious, prolific, preposterous. I must have picked 30 tomatoes. My frequent riding buddy and Friday Coffee Clubber, Lisa, claimed this week’s crop so I agreed to meet her this morning to hand over the goods.

Tomato Fever!!!

I headed off for DC hoping to stay upright lest my pannier become filled with marinara sauce. The ride in was pretty normal until I passed Old Town Alexandria. Then traffic picked up and up and up. By the time I had cleared National Airport, the bikes were stretched out all the way to the 14th Street bridge. If this keeps up, there going to have to widen the Mount Vernon Trail to four lanes. (Wouldn’t that be cool!!)

I rode over the bridge to DC and stopped at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial and Official Tomato Rendezvous Point. Lisa showed up a few minutes later. I handed her the big bag o’ toes and she stashed them in her pannier. I felt like a smuggler.

I rode back over the bridge. The crosswind on the bridge made for honest work but, boy, was it refreshing. It masked the humidity until I arrived at the office.

The winds increased during the day and I had a strong breeze blowing from the northwest pushing me all the way home in the evening. It was one of those days that I wish I had the fairing on Big Nellie. I could have sailed home – not that I am complaining about a tailwind.

The two little detours on the Mount Vernon Trail south of Dyke Marsh have given me an excuse to leave the trail early and climb a big hill on Park Terrace Drive. Riding up hill on a recumbent requires big lungs, a super fast pedaling cadence, and patience. I managed to avoid dropping below three miles per hour tonight. I really should take Big Nellie out to Mount Weather or Sugarloaf for a real uphill spin fest some day.

When I arrived home I was greeted by several thousand tiger mosquitos. They feasted on my legs as I picked yet another dozen roma tomatoes. Friend of the blog, Kirstin is getting the next shipment.

Give It a Rest

When your bike commute is 29 1/2 miles round trip, you rack up the miles pretty fast. Add a side trip to the Friday Coffee Club and you’re looking at a 150 mile week. This makes it kind of hard to get all enthusiastic about doing a lot of bike riding on the weekend. Oh, I still do a long ride now and then, but some weekends I just need to recharge my legs and my head.

This weekend and next are set aside for family doings. Saturday, despite the threat of rain, we got up early and drove for 2 1/2 hours to Hershey Park. My wife and daughter are roller coaster addicts and the sky above Hershey Park is a spaghetti bowl of roller coasters. It’s crazy. You’re having a conversation and ROAR/EEEEKKKK!!! a roller coaster goes screaming by overhead.

We met my son, his girlfriend, and her family at the gates. Her father works for one of the many organizations associated with the Hershey Chocolate company so as we went along he told us all sorts of information about Milton Hershey and his business philosophy.  For example, he endowed a school for needy kids that is still very much in operation.  During the depression, he had his employees build a resort to tide them over during the slump in sales. Hershey Park sprung out of and evolved from land set aside for employee recreation. One wonders where the Milton Hersheys of today have gone.

Other than a few very gentle rides I kept my feet and my tender stomach on solid ground. The others in our group were fearless. And since it was threatening to rain, the park was not crowded, so waits for the rides were short. We went on the Ferris wheel (they pitied me) and could see some old buildings in the town of Hershey being torn down. It was the original factory. So much for preserving history. We could also see an old roller coaster with a set of cars stuck near the top of one of its big climbs. (They got it going in about five minutes.)

It was hot. The park is kind of hilly and we walked all over the place. After about six hours, we were all pretty pooped and called it a day.

My wife, daughter, and I drove back home. After arriving, we realized that the city of Alexandria was having firewIMG_0318orks. So back in the car we went. We parked on the street in Old Town and hoofed it to the center of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge where we were joined by dozens of big spiders that have taken up residence on the bridge railings and sound walls. EEK! During our walk we enjoyed some pretty spectacular skyscapes, too.

The main event was Alexandria’s fireworks with the monuments of DC in the back ground. Occasionally, we could see fireworks on the western and northern horizon. And for the fiIMG_0327rst 10 minutes or so, National Harbor on the opposite side of the bridge was shooting off their Saturday night barrage.

It was a pretty cool topper to a long day. I must say that I am surprised we didn’t see fireworks of a different sort: cars were parked on the shoulders of the bridge. This was INSANE! Once the fireworks ended these cars were pulling out willy nilly into high speed traffic. I do hope that the police take steps to avoid a tragedy in the future.

After we arrived home I got to see the Nationals lose to the Marlins in the tenth inning. Boo.

Today, I woke up with really sore calves. This is what happens when you use leg muscles you’re not used to using. I took it easy, watched the Nats beat the Fish (Yay) and then went for an easy 20 mile ride down to Mount Vernon. I think they are ready for another week of bike commuting.

Gone Benting

Several years ago, my doctor decided that my cholesterol was too high, so he put me on Lipitor. Before doing so, he spent about 1/2 hour warning me about all the rare side effects, which included nerve problems in the hands and feet. After about a month on the drug, I developed a nasty nerve problem called a Morton’s neuroma in my left foot. It could have been a coincidence, but I wasn’t taking any chances. My doctor tried several different drugs of the same type (statins), but the nerve pain came back.

The pain was worst when I rode Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, in my Keen sandals. So I chucked the sandals. The problem persisted. I went to a podiatrist and had a series of rather painful injections to calm the nerve. These injections helped some but made my foot numb. I bought a couple of remedies off the Internet that look pretty goofy. (One’s a big foam donut I put on my ankle when I sleep. Another is a rubbery thing that separates my toes. Wearing them looks as dorky as one of those cones you see on dogs after they’ve had a procedure at the vet.) They worked okay but they are not a cure.

Over the course of the last few years, I’d ride my recumbent sporadically, but had to rely on my two upright bikes, The Mule and Little Nellie, for most of my miles. A switch from toe clips to oversized PowerGrips allowed me to move my foot around on the pedal. Still the pain kept coming back.

This year, I decided to try riding with my new Teva open-toed sandals and the PowerGrips. The pain still comes back but it is tolerable. I have put well over 1,000 miles on Big Nellie this year and have ridden it for all but one short ride this past month.

(I have thought about buying some Sidi cycling shoes but this would require switching to clipless pedals which I am no fan of.)

Another change I made was involuntary. My fairing, a Lexan windshield, broke. This was probably a good thing since I couldn’t see through it for all the scratches I had put in it. Without the fairing, the weight distribution of Big Nellie is different: the front end is lighter. The steering is a bit twitchier which can be interesting. And the lack of a fairing allows for a cooling breeze, as Jonathan Winters used to say, all over my body. It’s like having a new bike. Without the fairing, I give up a couple of miles per hour on my morning hill descent but it’s worth it. (33 miles per hour is fast enough at 7 a.m.) I’ll get another fairing when the temperatures drop this fall.

One thing that’s interesting about recumbents is that you use your leg muscles differently than on a conventional bike. The more you ride a bent, the more efficient your pedaling gets. After all this bent riding, I can feel a big difference. After about 2 miles of warm up, hills don’t much bother my legs. I just get into a rhythm and spin my butt off. Don’t get me wrong; I’m still slow but you won’t hear much huffing and puffing from me.

The best thing about recumbents is that you can ride them all day and your back, neck and shoulders don’t ache. (In fact, if I am having any back problems, riding my recumbent actually acts as physical therapy.) Last Saturday, I rode 109 miles. My legs were tired but the rest of me felt just fine.

So for the next couple of months, you’ll see me out benting. I’ll be the guy on the big black rolling lawn chair with the wind up his shorts and a smile on his face.

Dedicated

The radar looked favorable. If I timed it right, I could ride to work without getting wet. As Bill Cosby’s Noah once said, “RIGHT!”

It started out as a sprinkle. Since traffic was light I took Fort Hunt Road and the US 1 connector to the Mount Vernon Trail at the beltway. What cars there were gave me plenty of room. Drivers must be in a good mood.

Then the rain started. A little at first, then some more, then still more. Like Noah, I wanted to know “What’s a cubit?”

By the time I reached the airport ten miles into this little adventure, I was sopping wet. Animals were lining up in twos to get on Big Nellie. Voompah, voompah, voompah!

I saw Bob Cannon riding toward the 14th Street Bridge. He was not looking real happy. It’s hard to look happy when your beard is a sponge, I suppose.

I pulled into the garage at work and rolled past the big boss. He’s not actually big, he’s just the top dog. He’s not actually a canine…

He walked past me at the bike rack and, pointing to the puddle of water beneath me and my bike, I said, “Now this is dedication!” He replied, “in some countries, this is grounds for institutionalization.”

Since I was riding in clothes still wet from this morning, the ride home into a humid headwind wasn’t unpleasant. A few miles into the ride, I clicked my odometer. During the morning deluge Big Nellie turned 33.

At the beltway, I caught the light to cross Washington Street so I followed the US 1 connector and rode on Fort Hunt Road. I caught a light at Belle View Boulevard so I took a right and rode up brutal Beacon Hill. For months I have been having trouble with congestion in my lungs, but not today. I huffed and puffed all the way up the hill but there was no wheezing or coughing.  I hope my lung problems are finally gone.

Once I reached the top of the hill, the rest of my ride home was a piece of cake. I even added another short hill for good measure.

So what does a dedicated bike commuter do on a four day weekend?

I ain’t building an ark.

Detour 2

Detour 2 by Rootchopper
Detour 2, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

The Mount Vernon Trail and a few roads nearby are under renovation this summer. This detour, located south of the long Dyke Marsh bridge, bypasses two short bridges that are being replaced. A second detour is about 200 yards north of this one. Further south, Northdown Road is being rebuilt, as are East and West Boulevard Drives south of the stone bridge on Alexandria Avenue. I haven’t had difficulty getting through all this on my bike.

Detour on the MVT

Detour on the MVT by Rootchopper
Detour on the MVT, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

The National Park Service is doing work on three bridges on the Mount Vernon Trail between Dyke Marsh and the stone bridge. Today, they closed off a short section of the trail in anticipation of replacement of a short bridge. Additional work is on-going on Northdown Road, which now has one layer of new pavement. West Boulevard Drive, which runs parallel to the MVT from the stone bridge at Alexandria Avenue and Collingwood Road, is being torn up and re-paved. Despite all the work, the trail is still passable.

These Playoffs Are Going to Be the Death of Me

Having not learned my lesson from yesterday evening’s TV sports marathon, I watched the National-Phillies baseball game (Ian Desmond grand slam!!!) and the Stanley Cup playoff game pitting the Bruins against the Blackhawks. I don’t know why I did this.  I didn’t even make it to the end of the game. I fell sound asleep on the couch. My son woke me up and I went to bed, to awaken hours later with a sore back. Time to ride to work!

Thankfully a tailwind pushed Little Nellie and me in the direction of my office. I passed some regulars along the way including the Three Step Runner, Hardware Store Man, the Trash  Walker and French Braid Kate, her eyes opalescent in the early morning light. Nobody pulled any moronic passes today and I somehow navigated the Rosslyn cycle of death without being hit, although I did manage to nearly take out a fitness walker wearing ear buds.

During the day, I rode Metro to Union Station. A young man on the train had obvious issues. He spoke with an outside voice telling standees to “SIT HERE. SIT OVER THERE.”  Then once he had satisfied himself that everyone was in their proper place, he started asking them questions like “WHERE ARE YOU FROM?” “WHERE IN NEW JERSEY?” As we approached Union Station, a woman wearing ear buds had her back to the door. He stood directly in front of her and started a one-way conversation as she nodded at him with a patient smile. The woman was a saint. Long ago in Boston, there was a man we called the Yankee Doodle Man. He’d ride the MBTA all day whistling “Yankee Doodle Dandy”. When he came to the end of the tune, he’d start talking a blue streak, usually anti-semitic things.  He seemed to  always be on the train I was on too.

I had some time to kill when I came back out of subway. Friday Coffee Clubber Rachel had tweeted that she was at Union Station so I walked around looking for her. She was long gone though. I did see an impressive number of street people panhandling. Between the poverty and the mental problems, I was thoroughly depressed. Bike commuting  insulates me from some of the grim realities of life in the big city.

The ride home was into a strong headwind but the weather was otherwise so nice I didn’t much care. The river was high and full of logs. Big ones. I wouldn’t want to be out on the water tonight.

The trumpet player was back at Gravelly Point park. Bwaaa. BWAAA. Bwaaa. Thanks for the sound track. He’s good but I am holding out for a string section so I can get some Barber of Seville overture action going like in “Breaking Away”.

French Braid Kate came down a slight incline between two guys. Just as in the morning she wore no sunglasses. Somehow her eyes are wide open. Doesn’t that bother her? I wear glasses all the time but if I had the wind in my eyes it would bother the heck out of me.

Spin, spin. Pedal, pedal.

Old Town came and went. I steeled myself for the stench of Belle Haven Park. a hundred yards before the sewery water, I came upon two young moms sitting facing each other on a beach towel in the grass. In front of them, propped up on their butts were two babies, probably about 8 months old. One was bald, the other tow headed.  They were pawing each other like bear cubs and giggling their oversized heads off. I almost stopped just to watch them. They were pure joy.

Instead I rode into the swamp zone. Dang, when will this stench ever go away?!

As I rode along beneath the trees, I took advantage of my upright position on my recumbent and looked up at the underside of the canopy of leaves above me. Green out!  The Mount Vernon Trail rocks as a way to get home!

Tomorrow will be a long day. Coffee Club before work. Nats game after work. Then a late night ride home.