Boots.

I need better boots.

A few weeks ago the rear tire on Little Nellie went flat from a slow leak. I took the tire off and found three cuts in the casing. These cuts flex when the bike is in use. The flexing chews a hole in the tube. And a leak begins. So I replaced the tube and put tyvek over the holes on the inside of tire. I got the tyvek from one of my eye doctors who is a complete bike nut. (My other eye doctor is a bike commuter. Just a coincidence.)  Tyvek is the stuff they use to wrap new houses in before they put the siding on. It’s also the stuff the post office uses to make Priority Mail envelopes. The next time you get a tyvek package cut it up into strips about the size of Monopoly money and put them in your saddle bag.

And even better boot comes from the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. Yes, good ole U.S. greenbacks are actually very durable cloth. Fold a dollar bill over twice or thrice and you have a nice tire boot that will last a long, long time. I once used one on the front tire on Big Nellie. Three years later I took the worn out tire off to replace it and out fell a dessicated dollar bill.  The same thing happened last night when I had to repair a flat on Little Nellie. The dollar bill boot I had used last year on the front tire had slipped out of position. The cut in the casing is about the width of a pencil so I first glued a patch from my patch kit over the hole. Then I glued the remnants of the dollar bill to that.  That should hold it for another 1,000 miles.

The ride to work was a breeze.  I had a nice tailwind and rolled along at 15 miles per hour.  That’s fast for me.  Of course, I can’t take the credit. The wind was doing most of the work. My regulars – people I see nearly every day – were all missing. Hoppy legged jogger, fitness woman, overdressed Asian bike commuter, @grafixnerd stunt double we all AWOL.

The ride home was hot. By Daingerfield Island north of Old Town my head was hanging. The strong headwind provided no relief.  As I rode around the power plant a guy passed me and asked, “Are you Rootchopper?”  I figured he guessed it was me by my pathetic form and slow pace.  It was Shawnofthedread from the Bike Arllington forum. Small world.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. I added a mile each way to my commute making it a 31 miler for the day. I was going to celebrate with a beer but it’s late, I’m old, and I want to wake up in time for Friday Coffee Club.

This weekend I plan on getting Little Nellie’s shifting looked at, probably at BicycleSpace. My local LBS said I need a new shifter, front derailler, and chain.  Before I spend big bucks, I’m getting a second opinion.

Speaking of second opinions, my personal physician  is starting a new practice. For an annual fee of over $1,500, he’ll let me be his patient. All I can say is whatever happened to first do no harm?

The ride to an from work tends to get tedious at times. I know every bump and bollard in the Mount Vernon Trail. The views of the monuments are always inspiring but, you know, seen one monument…. The same can be said for Canada geese. The damn birds are everywhere this year. I think they look a little like a Klingon bird of prey when they come in for a landing.  And I have more than enough empirical evidence to confirm that the phrase “like grass through a goose” is as true as true can be.

Babies!!

Babies!!!

Normally, geese just sort of waddle around hoovering grass by the acre.  They don’t do much honking.  And they are pretty much unremarkable, until tonight’s ride home that is. I was directly opposite the water gate, not the complex of Nixonian fame,but the area behind the Lincoln Memorial.  Between the trail and the river were a line of geese and two fawns.  The fawns were no bigger than an Irish Setter and incredibly cute in  the way that only baby white tailed deer could be.  Four German tourist had stopped on their Bike and Roll rental bikes to checkout the babies. I wonder if they thought this was an everyday occurrence. I looked around for momma deer but she was nowhere to be found. The fawns were following the geese so closely, I was surprised they didn’t honk.

As  rode home I kept an eye out for the momma and hoped she wasn’t lying on the side of the Parkway. I never saw her.

Little Nellie was making funny noises most of the way home. about ten miles into the ride I noticed the front fender was riding on the front tire. When I moved it off, it came away in my hand. The metal spine of the fender had broken where it attached to the front fork.  It’s a flimsy design but the fork does a decent job so I ordered another when I got home.

That little metal thing done broke

Tomorrow telecommute day, because I have to drive the Mrs. to the surgeon for her post op visit.

It was clear that if I wanted to do 100 miles in the last seven days, I’d have to knock out 69 miles today.  This is not normally a big deal but I have spent 5 of the last 6 days off my bike and not even doing my daily physical therapy routine for my back.  I googled a route from my home in Mount Vernon to Indian Head MD.  This would be 70 miles round trip, but the roads are bumpy and narrow and the traffic is heavy. 

My thoughts turned to my 50 mile bagel ride.  This involved riding from my house to Bethesda Row using the Capital Crescent Trail and returning by way of Rock Creek Park.  I’ve done this ride at least 20 miles and it’s always fun to get to Bethesda, grab a bagel and munch it down while checking out the view of Rock Creek Park from the Rock Creek Trestle on the Georgetown Branch Trail.

Poling on the Run

Then a Friday Coffee Club friend named Laura started pining about the huge donuts at Bethesda Bagels. I took this as a sign of fate and headed out on Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist.  Instead of the usual ride north on the Mount Vernon Trail, I took Fort Hunt Road just for a change of scenery.  Fort Hunt Road intersects US 1 at the Beltway, which is about as messy an intersection as any bicyclist can find. Thanks to the foresight of previous Congresses, the recently rebuilt intersection includes a bike path that takes me back to the MVT.  Along the way I crossed over a Cameron Run and spotted a guy pole kayaking his way through the calm waters.  Looked pretty boring to me, so I took a picture and rolled on.  A few miles later I was inspired to modify my route because you can’t ride too many miles in drizzle.

I took a left on the Anderson Trail along Four Mile Run and, after three miles, picked up the Washington and Old Dominion Trail.  The W&OD intersects the Martha Custis Trail after about 4 more miles.  I turned right on the Custis and headed back toward Georgetown.  I rode over Key Bridge on the sidepath then jumped into the flow of autos on M Street in Georgetown. A bicyclist in front of me was trying to take the lane when a car beeped its horn at him and shoaled him, coming to a stop at the next traffic light. The bicyclist caught up to the car and yelled at the driver, “What the hell are you doing?” or words to that effect. I thought, “Good on you.”  Then the bicyclist blew through the red light.  Dude, you just confirmed in the driver’s mind that bicyclists are unpredictable and irresponsible. Bad on you.

I banged a right onto Wisconsin and another on K Street. Soon I was tooling along the CCT which looks flat but is gradually uphill most of the way to Bethesda.  It was relatively uncrowded thanks to the mist so the going was reasonably fast. The recent thunderstorms left a pretty impressive path of destruction the debris from which line the trail. 

I planned to re-load my water bottles in Bethesda but the water fountain was out of order as a result of some nearby construction. Note to the construction crew, get you shit together. It’s July in Washington. We need the damn water turned on.

Best Everything Bagel Around

The line at Bethesda Bagels was, as usually, out the door. I snagged my everything bagel and a cup of regular (Do they grade coffee like gasoline? Can you buy unleaded?) coffee and sat on a bench outside the shop under a tree that kept me dry from the mist and watched the Bethesdans stroll by.

The next order of business was the Rock Creek Trestle. This long bridge spans Rock Creek Park at just above the canopy. I love the view almost any time of year.  After a couple minutes of contemplating my navel (it’s an innie, in case you were wondering), I backtracked to Jones Bridge Road and banged a left to head for home through the park.

In the Treetops on the Rock Creek Trestle

For most of the ride through the park, the main drag, Beach Drive, is closed to cars on the weekends. This is one of the great joys of bike riding in DC and not to be missed.  Unfortunately, once you get about half way through the park, the cars return and the horrible side path awaits. I think the Secretary of Interior should be required to ride to work at least once a week on this monstrosity. It’s been narrow, tree rooted, overgrown mess for over 30 years (I lived here in 1980; it sucked then.)

The route home took me to the Lincoln Memorial beach volleyball courts, down Ohio Drive, over the 14 th Street  Bridge and under the George Washington Parkway. I took a left at the Pentagon rode through Crystal City, Potomac Yards, Old Town Alexandria and picked up the MVT at the beltway.  I rode the MVT home, sucking wind as I had not consumed enough water and the sun was burning through the clouds. I arrived home after 58 miles.  Good enough. Two thumbs up.
 
Once I was showered my kids and I went out to watch the latest Batman movie.  Just as the trailers started I folded my legs and OWWWW! a leg cramp. I was writhing in my seat like a nut trying not to YOWL!!!! There was just enough room to stretch my leg out to calm the spasm. I stayed splayed out for the first half of the film.

I would endure any amount of pain to see Anne Hathaway in a skin tight black cat suit.

So I did.

It was worth it. Six thumbs up.

Recovering from surgery is something of a solo enterprise.  My wife did the recovering. I worked from home to keep an eye on her. This went on for three days at the end of which we were both bored senseless. I celebrated by doing laundry and mowing the lawn in oppressive heat.  She decided to go through the mail and pay some bills.  She still feels pretty awful mind you, but I can’t help the awful go away.

So we mutually decided that after four days without exercise it would be a good idea for me to ride to the office.  I loaded my normal stuff plus my not-so-light laptop in my panniers and headed out the door. It was overcast and I felt a sprinkle or two so I opted to ride The Mule, my Specialized Sequoia touring bike. Other than the annoyance of a balky cycle computer, I found the ride, despite the heavy load, more invigorating than usual.  I’M OUT!  There was very little auto traffic to contend with as everyone in his or her right mind was at the beach or in bed.  I made it to the bicycle traffic light at Porto Vecchio and found the convex mirror destroyed. Vandals!  What’s next, Visigoths? Huns? Marauding Middle Class Teenagers?

Mirror, Mirror Not

A little further on I reached the bollard farm. In response to pleas for some sort of safety improvements, some changes have been made. Now the big black bollards are being painted yellow and have a yellow reflective band on them.  My hat is off to Jonathan Krall and Erik Wagner of the Alexandria Bicycle Pedestrian Advisory Committee and to Shane Farthing of the Washington Area Bicyclist Association for talking the designers of this mess into some safety accommodations. 

Black to Yellow (the white bollards have primer on them)

The rest of the ride in was a bit of a struggle. Four days off the bike had knocked me out of my commuting groove, the wind was blowing in my face, and the Sony anvil in my pannier wasn’t helping much either.

This being Friday I headed to Swings coffee emporium located a block from Michelle and Barry’s white house for a jumbo cup of java at the weekly get-together of what passes for a biker gang in our nation’s capital, the oh-so-cleverly named Friday Coffee Club. It’s like Cheers except that it’s above ground, alcohol free, and has no laugh track.   

When I arrived Reba who commutes from BR – beyond Rootchopper – was holding court with the boys club.  Among the boys was Adam (a. k. a. Froggie) who keeps coming back despite his recent move to Norfolk. (He claims to be in the Navy but I am beginning to think he is a corporate spy for Starbucks.) Like most of the coffee clubbers, he blogs about his bike addiction.

Reba keeps the boys in line – Froggie hides in plain sight

Kate, Rachel, and Kirsten

The gender balance was all out of whack, but this was soon rectified by the arrival of Kirsten, Kate, Rachel, and Mary.  Mary is recovering from recently riding over 700 miles in less than four days in the Rocky Mountains with her randoneuring hubby Ed.  Frankly, I am surprised to see that she can stand upright much less ride a bike. She is in shock because she and Ed recently discovered a crack in the frame of their tandem. Kirsten grows awesome veggies and runs ultramarathons whenever she can. I still have trouble getting my head around anyone running more than 26 miles in one go. There must be something in the veggies. Rachel has been known to cook a mean cake and works for a local bike tourism business. Anytime she wants to experiment with a new cake recipe, she is welcome to work in the posh kitchens at the Rootchopper Institute. Kate is inexplicably blogless. Where oh where did she go wrong? We need to work on her.

The age balance was out of whack too. Everyone in attendance was over 20. Some of us were over 20 twice. We needed youth!  In walked the perfect antidote to our age conundrum.  Jacques and his wife Liz arrived with the newest coffee club member, Hugo. Hugo is in the running for world’s cutest baby honors.  He searches his environment with his crinkly fingers and has the softest hair at the base of the back of his head. Babies are great toys, especially when someone else has to get up in the middle of the night and change their diapers. Fortunately for Mom and Dad he seems to be a world class snoozer.

Jacques, Liz, and Hugo

Hugo, the perfect antidote to a rough week

After an hour recharging my social batteries and getting my baby fix, I headed off to work.  TGIF.

v\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);} o\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);} w\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);} .shape {behavior:url(#default#VML);} About a year ago, faithful readers (the two of you over there in the shade sharing the malt liquor from a quart bottle) will recall that Mrs. Rootchopper had some fun medical mishaps. Fun here is an abbreviation for f*@king unbelievably nasty.  Her first encounter was with a thunderclap headache.  She was taken by ambulance to the George Washington University Medical Center emergency room, where they saved Ronald Reagan from certain death.  Our experience was nine hours in urban hospital hell that ended with the doctors saying, “We haven’t a clue what caused your headache.  The technical medical term for your condition is ‘shit happens.’ You can go home now.”

 

Just when you think the Woodrow Wilson Bollard Farm has reached it’s maximum level of stupidity, the good folks at VDOT make it worse. Today’s addition is four new flexible bollards leading to the center fixed bollard at the base of the hill on the southern approach to the bridge. That was long winded but the picture gives you the idea. The point here apparently is to give you seven bollards of two types to avoid as you approach the underside of the bridge.

The magnificent seven

For a while there was a lone bollard in the middle of the trail down near the river.  This bollard was not sufficient to keep out evil doers because the design geniuses behind this project left one entire side of an adjacent parking lot obstructed only by some saplings. Of course, rather than address this problem they decided to install more bollards across the trail.

The lone bollard.

Drawing to indicate location of new bollard

All of these bollards are intended to keep a truck bomb from beneath the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, which has been unprotected for 42 years.  Of course, every other Potomac River Bridge, including a key railroad bridge, a metro bridge, the 14 Street Bridges, the Memorial Bridge, the TR Bridge (plus assorted ramps) and the Key Bridge)  could be blown to bits by a truck on the George Washington Memorial Parkway, but the geniuses at Homeland Security couldn’t figure out how to install bollards across the Parkway without pissing off motorists.  That just wouldn’t be prudent.

Although I refrain from photographing it, the Homeland Security folks have also added some sort of black cages to some of the arches beneath the Wilson Bridge to deter evil doers on foot. I can’t believe they don’t just fill the underside of the bridge with a massive amount of concrete and call it a day.

Of course, they could place security cameras around these places but that would require someone to watch the cameras. Even though every local DOT does this 24/7, our Homeland Security folks can’t get it together to do that.

(For the record, I briefly worked for Homeland Security and was nearly driven insane. I left after 8 weeks.)

If this keeps up, I may become a Tea Party person. Or, end up in the nervous hospital.

Meanwhile, seven miles to the north, the beautification committee of the National Park Service was hard at work installing plastic, water-filled jersey barriers along the trail near the entrance to Roosevelt Island.  Now, they could have actually planted some nice hydrangea bushes or maybe some arborvitae to act as a barrier but that would be tasteful and we can’t have that now, can we?

Aren’t they pretty?

On a bittersweet note, yet another of my cycling-related friends and a member of the Friday Coffee Club has flown the DC coop.  First, Richard, a member of last fall’s 50 States Ride posse left for Puerto Rico by way of Spain. Then, Florencia, the organizer of the posse, headed for Cambodia by way of Argentina.  Then Adam (a.k.a. Froggie) was shipped off to Norfolk by way of Vermont.  (I do believe the 50 States corkscrew routing has messed up their senses of direction.) Today, Lauren, a.k.a. lkono, has headed off to Ireland (by way of London, which leads me to believe she rode the considerably less convoluted 13 Colonies Ride).  These four people embody why living here in the Washington area is so great.  Between them they have interests in meteorology, yoga, Chinese, acroyoga, Spanish, rock climbing, back alley waffles, running, a rooftop bathtub, and the Navy.  And I know I am leaving a lot out.  You’all (it’s a southern city, don’t you know) are welcome back any time.

Readers of this blog have seen countless complaints about the dangerous detours, bollards and design flaws on the Mount Vernon Trail near the Wilson Bridge. The renovated parkland beneath the bridge has finally been opened and, with it, a brand renovated segment of the Mount Vernon Trail. I have to admit, once you get away from the mess at South Royal Street, this is pretty darned nice.

My bike riding typically picks up in June because I no longer have to attend my daughter’s school events. This June I missed out on almost a week of riding to take my daughter on a college safari from DC to Auburn AL and back. We visited six colleges in four days and drove more miles than I want to admit to.

Anyway, back to the bike. Despite the time off, I logged 621 miles in June. I did 23 rides in all and commuted to work 14 times. 338 miles were on Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist. Yeah, it’s a folding bike but that doesn’t mean I can’t use it like a regular bike.  Six of my commutes and 12 rides were on Little Nellie. Big Nellie, my Easy Racers Tour Easy recumbent, placed with 254 miles, 7 commutes and 10 rides.  The Sequoia is resting comfortably in the Rootchopper Bike Garage after doing one ride, a commute, of 29 miles.

My longest ride of the month was 41 miles. Just a ride around the area with some shopping thrown in for good measure.  In fact, all but a couple of my rides were around 30 miles give or take a mile or two. My compatriots on the Friday Coffee Club team in the National Bike Challenge kid me about how much I ride.  I feel a little like PacMac biting off 30 mile rides day after day.

The other highlights of the month are the new Brooks Flyer saddle I put on Little Nellie, the 30,000 miles that appeared on Big Nellie’s odometer, and the 3,238 miles I’ve ridden in the first half of the year.

July riding will be complicated by car maintenance. Typically, I put Little Nellie in the trunk of the car and take it to the mechanic.  We now have two cars in need of work so that will make for some interesting logistical legerdemain.  Also, I lose a weekend in a couple of weeks to a trip to the world famous Sigler Family Reunion, where even heathens like me can get richly blessed if we so choose. We’ve been to this in-law fest for 20 of the last 21 years, missing only when my daughter had the swine flu a couple of summers ago. I hope to get in at least one long-ish (over 60 miles) ride this month. I also have to get my act together and start fixing Big Nellie up. She’s looking the worse for wear these days. Fortunately, Tim Fricker at Bikes at Vienna has a new seat bag that looks like it would be the perfect birthday gift for the middle aged recumbent cyclists.  Black or red would be best.

st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }