Category: Uncategorized

Ray Allen, Leave Me Alone

I stayed up past midnight watching an NBA finals game. Ray Allen hit a shot for Miami which prolonged the game annoyingly. I woke up on 5 ½ hours of sleep. Not ideal commuting 14+ miles on a bike.

Big Nellie was back in action, if you can call it that. I was a zombie on wheels. Thankfully, the weather was splendid;  I didn’t much mind the headwind.

Three regulars made appearances in the morning. Hardware Store Man came rolling by south of Beltway. Lately, he’s been doing a lot of gliding. Trash Walker showed up near Washington Marina. He had a full back of garbage. Why do people litter on the trail? After a day off, French Braid Kate made an appearance near the airport. Lovely as usual.

As I made my way past the pinch point between the airport fence and the Parkway, a superb specimen of cycling stupidity made a close pass. He’s a fair weather commuter on a road bike wearing a back pack. His mountain bike shorts sagged nearly treating me to a view of his ass crack. He passed on a blind curve as a bike approached from the opposite direction. I veered into the brush overhanging the side of the trail, just managing to stay on the pavement. If you are, by chance, reading this, be advised. The next time you pull a stunt like that I am going to hock a loogie in your general direction.

Rains came but passed through just before I left work. Shawn (@shawnofthedread) came rolling by on his way to the Custis Trail in Rosslyn. He waved. Yo. Broken Ankle man came by a mile later near the airport. His right foot is severely toed in as if his ankle was broken and never reset. WABA mom came tootling by. She wears a WABA cycling shirt and has an unoccupied trail-a-bike attached to her bike.

The rest of the ride was regular-free. The trip through Belle Haven Park was smelly. It’s taking a long time for the park to dry out. The ducks don’t mind but humans are having a hard go of using about ⅓ of the park.

When I got home, my son told me that we are watching the Bruins-Blackhawks Stanley Cup game tonight.  What’s slower than a zombie? Tomorrow we’ll find out.

Andrea vs. The Mule

Andrea, the first tropical storm of the season, sneaked into DC on little squishy sneakers last night. You might think that this is a bad time to ride a bike to work. You might even be right. You might also know that I am not about to listen to such nonsense. So The Mule and I headed for DC and Friday Coffee Club.

Before we got out of the driveway we were greeted by our first critter of the day, a box turtle next to my son’s car. He (or she, can’t much tell) was looking a little befuddled. I followed the prime turtle directive and left him/her alone and headed out.

The rain was not too heavy. I wore an old Orioles baseball hat that had some paint stains on it. The long bill of the baseball cap, I reasoned, would keep the rain out of my eyes. And it did. The only downside was that it’s hard to see far ahead when riding a conventional bike. I got slapped in the face by two rain-weighted tree limbs on the Mount Vernon Trail. As soon as I cleared one (Whap!) I rode into the next (Whap!).That certainly woke my ass up.

I was pretty much alone all the way to town. A few runners were taking advantage of the respite from hot and muggy conditions to get their ya yas out, but the bike commuters were sitting this one out. Fortunately, a huge great blue heron wasn’t. I saw him flying just above the water, parallel to me over the Potomac River. It always amazes me that the Seussbirds can be so graceful and efficient when on the wing.

I enjoyed the tailwind and noticed that the planes from National Airport were taking off with the wind instead of against it. This is very unusual. One noisy American Airlines plane seemed to get very little lift as it headed out over Gravelly Point.

Friday Coffee Club was once again an all guy thing, until, that is, @Nikki_D showed up. At its peak, I think we had ten people there. Not bad for a rainy day.

I was concerned about the weather for the ride home. The forecasts called for heavy rain, thunder and lightning. Luckily, it was a light persistent rain instead. About a mile into the soggy ride, I was passed by Bob (Don’t Call Me Rachel) Cannon who sat next to me at Coffee Club in the morning. The headwind was as persistent as the rain but the combination actually felt nice. The Mule and I made steady progress. Once again the MVT was nearly empty. Near the Slaters Lane turn off, French Braid Kate came by DC-bound. If the weather was bothering her, I couldn’t tell.

South of Old Town I noticed two trees had fallen over from all the rain. One apparently was diseased; the part that hit the MVT seemed to shatter on impact. The trunk was sheared off and obstructing the right lane of the trail. We rolled by. Here and there pieces of rotten tree limbs were strewn along the trail. It occurred to me that a helmet would have been useful in the event of a limb crashing down on my noggin. (This once happened during a storm in Belle Haven Park. A limb dropped directly in front of my bike. It missed my noggin and the rest of me.)  My noggin spared I rolled home soggy but satisfied that Andrea had lost  and The Mule had won.

The Beat of a Different Drum

Many of my biking friends in DC were headed for the Tour de Fat, a big bike themed party to raise funds for local biking organizations, to have fun, and to promote Fat Tire Beer. Seemed like a good idea to me, but I have been meaning to see my friend Lisa’s taiko drumming group for quite a while. Her group was performing at the Washington Folk Festival at Glen Echo Park at 2. I hoped to get to the Tour de Fat in time to sample some liquid refreshment.

The ride to Glen Echo Park is pretty easy except for a short hill that goes from the C&O Canal up to the Palisades neighborhood of DC.  The ride there was as nice as a ride can be. It was 90 degrees and I had a tailwind. I took a couple of longcuts on the way and arrived with 12 minutes to spare. Even so I missed the very beginning of the drum performance, but it wasn’t at all hard to find; I just followed the thunder!

There were two groups: the newbies who had only been drumming for four weeks and the experienced drummers. Experience brings more complicated rhythms and showmanship. The leader and his wife did a duet of sorts. Dang, they were good. Lisa’s group did three numbers. She really gets into it. She smiles and her arms are flying all over the place. Nice job, Lisa. The best part was when the entire ensemble played together with layers and layers of different rhythms.

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Lisa (center) puts a hurt on her drum

I imagine taiko drumming must be good therapy. It’s physical and aggressive. There’s a social aspect to it. There’s even some shouting mixed in with the beats. The audience got into the shouting thing a bit. There was also a point in the show when the drummers came down into the audience to pick people to play a number with the group. I am thankful that Lisa didn’t come and get me!

After chatting with Lisa and her husband Robert, I rode across town to the Tour de Fat. My route took me on K Street in Georgetown. A few blocks of Wisconsin Avenue, one of the main drags in Georgetown, was closed to cars from K to M Street. It looked like a big party. In the new waterfront park between K and the Potomac River people were hanging out enjoying the fountain and the river scenery.

The Tour de Fat was in Yards Park, around the corner from the Washington Nationals baseball stadium. I could tell when I was close to the event when every stationary object I passed had several bikes locked to it. There was also valet parking at the event itself. There must have been hundreds and hundreds of bikes.  I tethered Big Nellie to a lamppost and hoofed a couple of blocks to the entrance. The WABA table was the first thing I saw. Alex and Rachel were there looking incredibly cheerful given the fact that they’d been outside in the heat all day. (One oddity of the day. Despite the fact that I saw hundreds of cyclists, I did not see a single Kate all day.)

The beer line had a sad little sign that said “Last Call 4:30”. Since it was 4:30 and the line was long, I decided to forgo a cold one and walked around the park. Most people were watching a band play. I wouldn’t think that a band led by a woman singing and playing a bass drum and a guy fiddling next to her would appeal to me, but they were very entertaining. I could have sat down and watched the performance but I was wilting in the heat.

I rode home the way I came, down the Mount Vernon Trail. In Old Town Alexandria I rolled past a big party at city hall plaza. The DC are sure was in a festive mood today. South of Old Town, two photographers with very long lenses attached to their cameras were walking toward the Morningside bald eagle nest. I’d have stayed to chat with them but I had my eyes on the prize, air conditioning at home.

51 and a half miles after I started I pulled into my driveway. A Saturday and a rider well spent.

Bollards for Bozos

Bollards for Bozos by Rootchopper
Bollards for Bozos, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

This is the entrance to the Mount Vernon Trail at Northdown Road. A few weeks ago a young woman drove her SUV past the “No Motor Vehicles” sign down the trail. She tried to do a three point turn to reverse course and ended up in a ditch. This happens every year. Finally, somebody (probably the National Park Service) install a white flexpost in the middle of the trail. Oddsmakers at the Rootchopper Institute think that it’s 2-1 for somebody driving over the flexpost and down the trail within the next 12 months. Wanna bet?

75,000 Miles, 3 Bikes

I keep track of things. I have been recording my running and cycling miles for 30 odd years. It started with running. I would log my daily miles. Then I added a note to indicate which shoes I was wearing. I did this because running shoes wear out from the midsoles first. It’s the midsoles that cushion your feet.

For some reason I didn’t do this sort of thing with my rides. For a long time I didn’t have a car so I used my trusty old Raleigh Grand Prix. It was a faithful steed, until the front right fork blade fell off on hill on the Custis Trail near Rosslyn, Va. It had shifters that were no longer manufactured and eventually I had to part ways with it. I did get 13 years out of that bike, abusing the heck out of it riding around Providence in the winter time.

I bought a Trek 1200 and used it more for running. I had hurt my knees and I needed to find a replacement for running between 50 and 70 miles per week. I’d get home and ride my ass off or, in the winter, put it on a wind trainer indoors and ride until pools of sweat accumulated. A few years after I bought it, I ruptured a disk in my back. After my surgery, I could feel every bump in the road when I rode the Trek. It was also pretty useless for commuting.

Between the two bikes, I guess I put on 15,-000 miles. I have no way of telling though. Back then I probably ran more than I rode.

So I bought a Specialized Sequoia around 20 years ago. It’s had many names but lately I am calling it The Mule. It’s original odometer died. I didn’t know you could re-enter the old mileage, but I had over 6,000 miles on it. Since then The Mule had carried me over 34,450 miles.

I was beating The Mule up by riding it in all kinds of weather so I needed a back up. Eleven years ago I bought my Easy Racers Tour Easy recumbent. I rode Big Nellie almost exclusively for 6 or 7 years, including many winter nights on my wind trainer. As of today, it has 34,350 miles on it.

About six years ago, I bought Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist. It’s a folding travel bike. Although I spec’ed it to have the same geometry as The Mule, it’s little wheels make it hard on my back. Pain be damned it now has 10,200 miles on it.

Add them up. Sometime on Saturday or Sunday, I broke 75,000 miles on my three bikes. I really wish now that I had kept track of the miles on the Trek and the Raleigh. I sound a little like Mickey Mantle in his dying days when he said, “If I’d known I was going to live this long, I’d have taken better care of myself.”

Bikes don’t last forever. Pretty soon I will have to figure out what to replace my fleet with. Buying cars is pretty easy. I’ve been buying cars since 1978. VW Golf, Saturn Wagon, Mazda MPV, Mitsubishi Lancer, and three Honda Accords. What I’ve learned is that when I need a new car, I’ll buy an Accord. Repeat every 10-13 years. (I’m good until 2010.)

Buying bikes is hard. I’ve never owned a mountain bike. Or a touring bike with 26 inch wheels. Or a short wheel base recumbent. Or a tadpole trike. Which one do I want? The answer, of course, is “Yes.”

If I’m going to ride another 75,000 miles, I’d better get to the bike shop and start test riding. Something tells me my three steeds will die from exhaustion before I do.

 

The Not-so-bad Monday

When the weather turns from warm dry spring days to swampy summertime here in DC, we get afternoon thunderstorms. Prior to spending a summer in DC in 1980, I’d never witnessed the wrath of a DC thunderstorm.  They are like a special effects movie. Find a good vantage point, sit back and enjoy the show.

Big Nellie’s foam seat is not the best thing to sit on during one of these downpours. Since LIttle Nellie is fresh out of drydock, I decided to ride her in today. Like yesterday’s ride, it was a brisk jaunt, even with the extra weight of a couple of panniers.  

Except for a few mallards and Canada geese, wildlife took the day off. Do bald eagles telecommute?  Closer to DC I rode into a light mist. Twas pleasant and downright hydratin’.

The Hoppy Runner, Hardware Store Guy, And Bob (Don’t Call Me Rachel) Cannon made guest appearances.  I broke Bob out of deep thought; he was probably pondering weighty Internet law issues or, maybe, what doughnut to have when he reached the office. Or, maybe, like me, he goes into a trance-like autopilot when he rides the well worn path to the office.

As I went up the steep top part of the hill to Rosslyn, my new chain and cassette decided to misbehave. The chain wouldn’t sit on the big cog and made a nasty sound. I dismounted and checked it out. Of course, everything looked fine once I had stopped. The episode was especially annoying because Little Nellie’s drive train had worked perfectly for the 45 miles I had ridden since picking her up at Spokes. I guess I’ll stop back in on the way home and have them look things over.

On the ride home I spotted Mark the Dismal Scientist and Eric the Nine Hour Layer. That made it a five-regular day which is probably some kind of record. The ride home was a jaunty one (using the word “jaunt” twice in a blog post is also a record).  I tested the naughty gears again a couple of times and they refused to be repaired by the my power of telepathy. I stopped at Spokes and they tweaked the rear derailler. I rode up a hill on Fort Hunt Road to give it a test. There was a bit of skip in one of the gears but everything worked, more or less. I made it home without a hideous crash.

The hoped for show of nature’s climactic fury didn’t happen so I will save the popcorn for tomorrow evening.

Lost and Found

After wasting most of the day expecting rain and getting little, I decided to take Little Nellie out for a test ride. Little Nellie is my Bike Friday folding bike. It was in the shop for some TLC. After I put on a new cassette, the good folks at Spokes Etc. at Belle Haven, my LBS (local bike shop), put on some new chain rings and a new chain and some new cables and housing, and new brake pads. They also put some lube around my bottom bracket.

I expected to go ten miles. Which led to another ten and another. It sure is nice to have a bike that works properly. And the click-click-click sound that happened whenever I pedaled hard was gone (thanks to the bottom bracket lube).

I rode to Fort Hunt Park then down to Mount Vernon. I stopped to check out the massive bald eagle nest on the edge of Fort Hunt but I couldn’t find it. It was completely obscured by leaves. Closer to Mount Vernon, I head two ospreys cavorting in the sky above. I could only see one and he was putting on quite a show.

My ride took me to a loop and a figure eight on the roads beyond the Mount Vernon estate. The streets are calm and well maintained. Sometimes I pick up a stray golf ball along the road at Mount Vernon Country Club. It is only fair that I do so since I lost dozens playing incredibly incompetent golf as a kid.

The weather was warm and a little muggy. This may have helped my disposition. I am truly sick of riding in cold weather. So it was time to get my yayas out.

When I got home I told Mrs. Rootchopper that that was the best bike ride I’d had in months. After my struggles on the ride to and from Baltimore, I was having some doubts about my biking competence. It’s a wonder what some warm air and an asthma-free day will do for your legs. 

 

Chips and Queso, Ceteris Non Paribus

Saturday brought the last ride on Little Nellie for a while. I rode to my daughter’s last high school lacrosse game. She played goalie. As a parent I had mixed feelings. Most of the shots she would stop would hit flesh and turn into ugly bruises after the game. You want her to play well, but you hate to see the consequences. Ironically, this is the first season of high school sports that she played injury free, despite having to wear ice bags every night.

At one point on the ride to the game, I spent a half mile dodging several dozen runners who clogged the Rock Creek Trail. They were running side by side, hopping unpredictably to avoid puddles, refusing to move over to let me pass and generally being a pain in the ass. I was pretty impressed that I didn’t collide with any of them. This sort of thing is sadly not all that unusual in the summers around these parts. Soon it will be hot and muggy and these folks will be on treadmills until September.

The ride home was pleasant enough. The skies never carried out their threat to rain like a bitch.

Sunday was devoted to bike maintenance. Little Nellie barely made it up to Calvert Street from Rock Creek Trail. Her chain was skipping across the cogs at unpredictable intervals. I managed to maintain forward momentum all the way up the hill, and the subsequent ride up 29th Street. I installed a new Capreo cassette myself. Then took the bike to my local bike shop for a bunch of other repairs including a new chain, two new sprockets (front gears), three new cables and housings, a headset adjustment, re-lubing of the bottom bracket, and new front brake pads.

After the maintenance was taken care of, I sat down to watch sports on TV with my son. We watched a Nationals game and a Capitals game. This was hard work so we ate chips and queso dip to keep our strength up.

This morning I felt like a sumo wrestler. I wobbled out to the shed and mounted Big Nellie. I swear she groaned. I used to eat anything I wanted and lost weight. Of course, I was running 70 miles per week at the time. That’s the caloric equivalent of about 280 miles of riding. Ain’t gonna happen, folks. Gotta stop snacking with the homeboy.

The ride to work was less than vigorous. I saw two of my regulars, Hoppy Runner and Hardware Store Man, on the way to work. Some bike commuters had the audacity to pass Big Nellie near the south end of the airport. Big Nellie does not like such rudeness. Suffice it to say, that Big Nellie put the hammer down.  Street luge in the cool of the morning will put hair on your fairing.

An amazing thing happened at the Rosslyn Circle of Death. I have to cross the I-66 off ramp where it intersects North Lynn Street at a traffic light. They never stop when the light turns red. Today, they did. I felt like getting off my bike and congratulating the drivers. Such is life in the zone of certain death.

After leaving the office, I stopped to chat with Bob (Don’t Call Me Rachel) Cannon of the FCC and the FCC. Over the last year a Hispanic man had set up home in the brush along the trail near the Rosslyn Circle of Death. He had meticulously built a home of sorts by lashing together a lattice work of sticks and other materials. It was pretty ingenious. He occasionally played a violin while sitting on a bench next to the trail. Somebody decided that his squatting was not to be and they bulldozed his home of sticks. I hope he finds someplace to live. He added character to the trail.

On the Mount Vernon Trail I was passed by Eric the Nine Hour Lawyer. Eric works at my former office and rides to work during the spring, summer and fall. I figure he works nine hours because I only see him riding home.

During both legs of my commute, I checked out the trunks of trees along the way. No cicadas yet. We are only days away from a spectacular invasion of a few bazillion creepy flying bugs.

Just as I passed the secondary runway at National Airport, a jet took off over the trail behind me. For a moment, I thought that the roar was chips and queso hitting the afterburners on Big Nellie’s engine.

South of Old Town, I spotted a massive motorcade of police vehicles. It was the escort of a pack of bicyclists riding the Police Unity Tour. Kate, a fellow #bikedc blogger, and DC police officer also rode in the event as she did last year. It raises awareness of police officers killed in the line of duty and for a memorial and museum in their honor.

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A few miles later I pulled over to check out the Morningside bald eagle nest. It is almost completely obscured now by the leaves on the trees. I waited for a few minutes and then I saw the flapping of wings from a large bald eagle in the nest. It was probably feeding its eaglets.

I moved on and heard a strange sounding bird flying overhead. It was a large osprey, with a bright white underbelly, flying in swoops over the Parkway. It was putting on quite a show.

The ride home was effortless. Could it be that chips and queso are miracle bicycling food? That would be awesome. Sadly, ceteris was not paribus. My easy ride home was attributable to a strong tailwind, the kind that turns in Big Nellie’s fairing into a sail.

Latin spoils everything.

Adios April by the Numbers

Despite not bike commuting nearly as often as normal, I managed to bang out a pretty respectable month. I rode 647.5 miles with 12 bike commutes. Little Nellie, my New World Tourist Bike Friday, did the heavy lifting with 9 commutes and 558.5 miles total, including 70, 50.5 and 46 mile mile weekend rides. Big Nellie, my Easy Racers Tour Easy recumbent, took most of the month off with only 29 miles from a single commute. The Mule finally saw some action with 2 commutes worth 60 miles.

For the year I stand at 2162 miles and 55 commutes.

I am expecting to lose a few more bike commutes. A couple next week as a result of my daughter’s two lacrosse games in Potomac. I also have a business trip that will pick off two commutes. And I may lose another day or two fetching my son from college. I plan on riding the remaining days, lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.

 

 

 

Lost in Suburbia

Nice day, no?

I fiddled and diddled. Messed around with some crossword puzzles. Then I launched. I intended to ride for a couple of hours but the good weather got the best of me.

I headed south toward Mount Vernon. On the way I got a good look at the Fort Hunt bald eagle nest. The thing is massive. I didn’t have my good camera with me so I didn’t try to take a picture of it. I’ll bet it’s twice the size of the Belle Haven or the Morningside nest.

Little Nellie must have been feeling frisky because we blew right by Mount Vernon and kept going. We hung a left into Fort Belvoir, riding through the base and eventually ending up on Telegraph Road.

The ride was a roller festival. Up and down every mile or two. Every third or fourth hill was a challenge but my legs were fresh. My normal bike commuting week, when I ride all five days, is 150 miles. This week I rode only 109 miles over three days. Fresh legs are good. The weather was splendid, around 70 degrees, light winds and low humidity.

After riding the ups and downs of Old Colchester Road in southern Fairfax County, I reached US 1 just north of the Occoquan River. Southbound traffic was backed up for about a mile. I guessed (correctly as it turns out) that I95 was a parking lot. Traffic was spilling over to all the side streets and soon I was in it.  Near the old Lorton prison complex, I found myself on a narrow road in a long line of cars. I bailed.

A block later a cyclist flagged me down. He was from Pittsburgh. He was riding across country in stages. He was totally, utterly lost. Welcome to Fairfax County! I set him straight. Shortly after sending him on his way, I stopped to check out a roadside historical marker. Did you know that a series of Nike missile sites were arrayed around DC and Baltimore during the Cold War? Did you know that Lorton Virginia had nuclear warheads on its Nikes? This may explain why Lorton’s official motto is Just Nuke It.

I ended up on Ox Road. There were no oxen on Ox Road. Just a herd of unyoked SUVs. I tried the side path for a few miles but it was bumpy and the pristine pavement of the paved shoulder called to me. This may be the only road in all of Northern Virginia with a paved shoulder. So I rode with the big dogs. Other than having SUVs buzz past me at 50 miles per hour for an hour, I was having a great time. Whoosh.

North of Burke Virginia (I have been to Burke ten times in 30 years. I live seven miles away. You figure it out.) I stopped at a Burke eatery called Tiger Mart. I dined on a fine Snickers bar and some cheese crackers. The guy behind me in line bought a quart of oil. He must have been thirsty.

The roadway narrowed. I entered Fairfax City which has a road network designed for peak traffic, in 1956. At one point we were down to two narrow lanes, a curving descent and a recommended speed of 20 miles per hour. I went 23. Take that Fairfax City.

North of the charms of Ffx City, I entered cycling hell. In a half mile, I had to negotiate six interstate on/off ramps. Thank God the drivers were kind to me. There are no accommodations for cyclists along this stretch of road. I believe the traffic engineers who designed this mess  should be required to ride a bike through it  in the rain at night without lights.

Having survived the I66 hellhole, I cruised down Maple Avenue into Vienna. Ooh, more traffic. What fun.

I stopped twice to buy some real food but long lines turned me off so I hopped on Little Nellie and headed for home on the W&OD trail. The W&OD is predominantly downhill and refreshingly free of motor vehicles. Zoom.

I took a right on the Mount Vernon Trail near the airport and headed into the wind for the last ten miles. Happily, the trail was not congested with weekend wanderers. I arrived home after 69 miles. The Snickers and crackers had worn off.

Off to Chevy’s for some Dos Equis and a burrito.