Last night after getting home from work my back felt a little stiff. I took some ibuprofen and went to sleep. As I was getting out of bed this morning, I felt a stabbing pain in my lower back. Since Mrs. Rootchopper was neither awake nor armed with a knife, I could tell that this was the return of an old and unwelcome friend. 

I have had back issues since college. I came home from school one year for Columbus Day, sat down in an easy chair, and couldn’t get up – even for dinner.  You know it’s serious when a 20 year old can’t get out of a chair for a free meal. I was young and the pain went away in short order without problem.

At the end of my first year of graduate school, I had one more exam to take when my back went into spasm.  I could barely move. I managed to use my bike as an improvised walker and made it to the college clinic for treatment.  I recovered in time to take the exam, but it was clear that the problem was getting progressively worse.

These episodes increased in frequency until one day I had the mother of all back spasms. I had ruptured a disk and I was unable to stand without mind blowing pain.  After four weeks of doctor visits and scans, I had surgery to remove a disk and make more room for the offended nerve. In  four weeks I was back at work and in six months I felt fine.

I went about ten years before my next back episode. I have been having them every year since.  So this morning is no surprise.

Long ago I concluded that no single thing causes my back problems. Rather, an accumulation of shocks and the daily grind build up tension until I have pain.  I think of it like a body quake; pressure builds along the fault line until SNAP!

I went back to bed after the stabbing and waited for my back to calm down. Then, ibuprofen in hand, I went downstairs.  I spent the morning on my deck reading.  After four hours of chilling, I pulled Big Nellie out of the shed and gently rode to Old Town to pick up my now repaired camera. 

Big Nellie on the Mount Vernon Trail at the Morningside Bald Eagle Nest

On the way there I stopped to chat with Adam known in the Twittersphere as @ajfroggie. He’s a local bike commuter who does volunteer work for the Fairfax Advocates for Better Bicycling. He (and a woman from the National Park Service whose name escapes me) was taking traffic counts on the Mount Vernon Trail near the Washington Street deck. 

Away from King Street, the main drag, Old Town was empty. King Street was crawling with tourists wishing it were not 85 degrees.  I picked up my camera. It works like new (yay!). 

Sherwood Gourmet makes good sammiches

I gently pedaled back home stopping for a sammich at my favorite sammich shop.  I sat on the patio and ate my sammich and let the tropical air pull the sweat out of me.  Some people (my wife, for one) hate summer in DC. I love it.  I used to hate it when I was a runner, but it’s really terrific for cycling.  The breeze from bike riding is the perfect cure for the muggies. I have also learned that it the perfect way to get head exhaustion.  That’s an affliction for another day and another blog.

As for now, there’s an ice cold Yuengling waiting for my personal attention. It’s hot out. I need to keep hydrated.

The Friday before Memorial Day I expected light car traffic and a low turnout at the Friday Coffee Club at Swing’s coffee emporium near the White House.  The Club is a get together of area bike commuters many of whom are also bloggers and twitterers. Or is that tweeters? Tweeps? Twits?  Whatever…

The joint was jumpin’.  Despite the absence of a few regulars the place was filled with over 20 people for whom work is more important than the beach. Yes, these are the dedicated people who make the nation’s capital what it is today, a hopeless pathetic mess. 

As usual people came and went. It was Adam’s last time at coffee club as he is moving to Norfolk to take over a nuclear powered doppler radar station.  It was actually Adam’s third last time (it’s a long story) so if he shows up next Friday, folks, he’s buying. (Would I lie to you?)

Adam (center) in his 2012 Bike to Work Day t-shirt

Caffeine addicts get their fix

Parking was tight. Big Nellie’s on the left

One of the cool things about this group of bike riders is the variety of bikes they ride. Several kinds of folders – Raleigh, Dahon, Bike Friday – were seen.  My recumbent. A big cruiser with pink bags and streamers coming out of the handle bars. Single sped bikes. Conventional touring bikes like the Surly Long Haul Trucker that Mary rode in on.  And more. The bikes stretched the length of the front of the coffee shop in some places two deep. There were also bikes locked to parking meters on both sides of the street.  

I had an extra large Americano during my stay at Swings. With a fierce case of the caffeine jitters I lit out on Big Nellie for my office. I took M Street to Georgetown and had a brief conversation with a fellow bike commuter in the West End.  In Georgetown, a couple about my age came rolling down from a side street.  They came up beside me at a stop light and asked, “Are you official?”  I said, “No” not having a clue why these obvious tourists thought a guy on a recumbent would be official anything. They asked if I could take them to the Mount Vernon Trail. I said I would for $20 and off we went toward Key Bridge which was where I was going anyway. (Okay, okay. I lied about the $20.)  I stopped to allow them to take pictures of the view from the bridge pointing out the Watergate complex and Kennedy Center. At the Rosslyn Circle of Doom, I pointed them to the MVT and sent them on their way.

In the locker room at the office I took of my shirt. It was my dark blue 2012 BikeDC shirt that had a white logo with the Capitol dome on the left side of my chest.  That’s why they took me for “official”.  I hope the DC tourism board appreciates my good deed of the day. Show me some love, dudes.

For me to get to Friday Coffee Club I need to get out of bed at 5:30. This makes for one tired commuter going home. And so I was. The Mount Vernon Trail was not crowded and people were being more civil than usual.  I saw some ospreys soaring overhead near Daingerfield Island. One of the benefits of riding a recumbent is the view. I can see much more riding Big Nellie than on my other, conventional bikes. About 10 miles into the ride, I rode through Belle Haven Park.  There were far more geese than people.  I rode gently through the gaggle so that the geese did not turn on me and poo me into oblivion. The geese on the trail waddled away.  They were probably so full of grass that they couldn’t chase me.

I stopped at the Morningside bald eagle nest.  The foliage is now so dense that it’s hard to see anything, but I did see some wings flapping over the top of the nest.

I just had a margarita (from a bottle).  It’s the weekend. Enjoy and remember.

I hate bollards on bike trails. They are dangerous as hell. The creative team working on the renovation of Jones Point Park has decided that one downhill into two bumpy transitions and a 90 degree turn in to  a sahded area with oddly protruding curbs was not challenging enough for trail users. So they decided to add three bollards at bottom of the hill.  They have big red lights on them, probably to blind you at night.



Big Nellie and the Three Bollards



 I am not opposed to bollards in general.  In fact, if Alexandria wants to tear these out I know of a great place for them, the Jefferson Memorial. This national treasure has been surrounded by Jersey barriers lined up in a haphazard fashion since shortly after 9/11.  It is a disgrace that the federal government has left them there for so long. Most other memorials and important buildings in DC have long since had their environs re-designed for protection, but Thomas Jefferson remains protected by a concrete highway wall. Mr. Obama, tear down this wall!

Woke, up, fell out of bed.  Dragged a comb.. no. No need for a comb. I went to the barbershop on Saturday and told the barber I wanted my hair to be this long all the way around. I held my thumb and index finger about1 or 2 inches apart.  As he began cutting he started asking me baseball trivia.  He had no way of knowing that I am a Red Sox fan.  Not so much these days, but I went to BU and lived 3 blocks from the green monster of Fenway Park my sophomore year. Tony Conigliaro was beaned on my birthday.  I know Bucky Dent’s middle name.  So he asks me who was the last major leaguer to win the triple crown and I said Carl Yastremski 1967. He couldn’t believe I knew. So he asks some more. I missed one about Teddy Ballgame.  Long story short, he pretty much forgot about “this much.”  I have a crew cut. The upside is that my big bald spot no longer feels lonely. And I can shower much faster after I commute by bike. One of my co-workers has taken to calling me “Buzz.” He thinks it’s funny. 

It had rained just before I left the house so I had to take care on the wet pavement.  At Belle Haven Park I spotted something I’ve been eagerly awaiting, goslings. One of the pure joys of bike commuting is watching goslings grow.  These were already pretty big, but still in that cute fuzzy stage. I tried to take a picture with my iPhone but it’s pretty useless for these kinds of shots. (I broke the screen on my Nikon Coolpix camera over a month ago. I took it back to Ritz Camera under the warranty I bought. They sent it out to be repaired instead of just replacing it. Someday I may see it again. If I had known it would be gone for five weeks, I’d have skipped the warranty and bought replacement camera instead. Lesson learned.)

Pedal. Pedal.

I came upon the DCBD  (Detour of Certain Bloody Death) at the Wilson Bridge. This morning the crew was jackhammering near the gravel transition.  They had no clue when bicycles were passing. I can’t believe that Bicycling Magazine calls Alexandria a Bicycling Friendly City.  Then again, Bicycling is the worst magazine about bicycling.   (I get it as part of my League of American Wheelmen – I’m old school – membership.)  I did my best Fred Flintstone imitation to get through in one piece.

Under the TR Bridge I spotted a small patch of mud in the river below.  There were duckings nearly invisible on the mud next to Mother Mallard. I stopped to take another iPhone picture. Useless. In the shallow water next to the mud patch I spotted a 3-foot catfish.  I was feeling like Marlin Perkins.

A few minutes before 5, some workers kicked me out of the office to repair a water leak in my wall.  I moved into this spanking new office about a month ago.  It’s newness was nice while it lasted.

As I left the office I checked the #bikedc Twitter feed. There were a series of tweets about thunderstorms in the area.  I hit the street and was immediately buffeted by wind gusts. Dark clouds were churning above. In five minutes I was on the bike trail and some sprinkles were hitting my fairing. Two miles later as I approached the 14th Street Bridge rumbles of thunder gave way to huge rain drops coming down faster and faster.  They were cold raindrops, too.  I could barely see but, since I was already wet, I kept riding. And the cold rain kept cold raining.

Just past the airport, the rain gradually came to an end. I was soaked.  I passed by the bog north of Slaters Lane and spotted a gorgeous great blue heron.  After Old Town I saw a rabbit.  I figured with all this wild life I’d see a little bald eagle action. No such luck.

I diverted to the drug store to pick up some sinus medication (why don’t they call it the Medication Store?) Flonase is to DC like quahogs are to Rhode Island.

From the looks of things the storm clouds were following me.  I hurried home to avoid a second soaking.

[Insert long piano chord]

Another morning, another commute in the spitting rain.  It wasn’t so bad really. The rain stopped after 20 minutes. I rode tense all the way expecting that my chain would break at any moment.  It didn’t. In a way I was disappointed.  I am sure Woody Allen or Eeyore would have some words of wisdom about this.

The only notable thing that happened on the way to word was my second bra sighting of the year.  I was just past the Slater’s Lane connector on the Mount Vernon Trail when I saw a beige (or do they call it biscuit these days?) bra lying on the trail. I’m no good at sizing but it was substantially smaller than the bra I saw near the airport during the winter. This new bra was dry and clean so it hadn’t been there long. I didn’t stop to pick it up. I’d have felt like a pervert. Let sleeping bras lie.

I made it up the Rosslyn connector in one piece for a change. A bike rider was walker her bike up the hill. I asked if she was okay and she replied, “Oh, I’m fine. Just resting my bum.”  I don’t know about you but when I want to rest my bum I find a nice easy chair. (This reads like Andy Rooney. We went to the same high school. He got paid to blog on TV. I get bupkiss.)  To each his or her own.

During the day, fellow bike blogger Gypsybug  sent out a call to the Friday Coffee Club  for teammates in the National Bike Challenge. This is some sort of friendly online competition in which teams log rides and miles and blow on vuvuzelas. Actually, I don’t have a clue what it is so, true to form, I signed up. Bike shit happens.  Que sera sera. Obladi Oblada. Hakuna Matata.

The ride home felt odd. There was this glowing orange ball in the sky. It seemed to be generating heat. What is this strange orb? It didn’t go away. It just stayed there. Looming.

I rode all tensed up, KNOWING that damn chain was going to pop at any second. It held just fine. I even shifted into my big chain ring and everything worked fine.

On the way home I pulled into Spokes Etc. at Belle Haven. I had found a mess of chain in the Rootchopper Institute’s vast Bike Parts Warehouse.  Chris the mechanic dove into putting four chain links back onto the Tour Easy’s chain.  Neither he nor I had a clue how to thread the new chain through the tensioner. We consulted photos on the Internet.  We thought we had it right but a test ride resulted in the tensioner being upside down.

Another mechanic stepped in to help. During my recent chain escapades, a spring that provided resistance to the tensioner had become dislodged, probably when I disassembled it to free Flor’s pant leg.   The mechanics figured out how to reset the spring, then they pulled down another photo of the tensioner from the Internet.  In just a couple of minutes, Big Nellie was back in action.

The whole repair thing took at least a half an hour and cost me less than $10.  Time and money well spent. Having a local bike shop that will do simple (and sometimes not simple) bike repairs while you wait is invaluable to a bike commuter. Spokes at Belle Haven has bailed me out more times than I can remember. My helmet is off to them.

I rode Big Nellie home, grinding all the way up the biggish hill on Fort Hunt Road without the slightest chain problem.  Everything seems to be working fine. (Of course, the remaining spare links are staying in my seat bag forever.)

I entered my miles for the month of May: 525 miles over 16 days of riding so far.  That’s over 800 points. I could win a prize. Maybe some Gojo to get the chain gunk off my hands.

It was a Geldofian day.  Rain was coming down with just enough purpose that nothing I could do would keep my face dry. It was like having someone standing in front of me with a spray bottle of water. 

My plan today was to ride Big Nellie to work and then stop at my local bike shop to take the kink in my chain that I had installed after yesterday’s pants affair.  The chain was skipping in the small sprockets but seemed to be operating fine otherwise. Before I left for work, I searched the Rootchopper Institute of Spare Bicycle Parts for some chain links. I knew I had some, but I couldn’t find any. Hopefully, my local bike shop would have some when I stopped on the way home.

The ride in was rather moist and all those annoying people were gone so that I could ride on the Mount Vernon Trail in peace.  Before I get to the trail I ride down a short steep hill on Park Terrace Drive. Normally this is a 35 mile per hour descent but this morning the recycling truck was doing its thing smack dab in the middle of the street at the bottom of the hill.  No jollies for me.

I managed to survive the detour of death near the Wilson Bridge and the dance of the SUVs lining up to take Muffy and Wilfred to Saint Mary’s School at the southern edge of Old Town. I managed not to hit any SUVs or fledgling Catholics and should be awarded two gold stars for my efforts.

On the north end of Old Town I rode across the long boardwalk through what had been a drained stretch of wet land. Two workers were in waders mucking about. They looked somewhat unhappy.

I was riding carefully taking care not to put too much pressure on the chain which was skipping every now and then to remind me what an incompetent bike mechanic I am.  At the airport I lost another opportunity for high speed riding when a skinny girl passed me on the uphill side of the second flyover bridge. She was no match for Big Nellie’s downhill abilities but I wasn’t about to pass her on a blind curve on wet pavement.  So I rode my brakes and watched her pedal out of the saddle on flat land. She needs to work on her spinning technique.

As I approached the 14th Street Bridge one of my regulars, a middle-aged Asian man wearing a yellow jacket and carry lots of stuff on his bike, came my way. Normally, I see him near the Roosevelt Bridge about a mile closer to my destination in Rosslyn.  Babying the chain was really slowing me down.

My last challenge was to climb the connecting bridge up to Rosslyn. I shifted to my middle chain ring and began shifting to my big sprockets to ease the pressure on the chain when the chain snapped.

Not good.

I walked the bike up to a landing and started inspecting the damage. The broken link would have to be removed.  As I worked away at taking the link out, commuter after commuter came by asking if I needed help. When they saw it was a broken chain, they owned up to mechanical ineptitude and rode on.

I continued to work on the link, actually two since they are oriented in male/female pairs. For the uninitiated, a chain tool holds a chain link in place while you turn a handle that screws a pin pusher into the pin on the chain link. The idea is that you push the pin through enough to take out the bad chain link. You should never push the pin all the way through, because it is next to impossible to get back into the hole in the chain. Never.

Then Jason stopped to help. He had a sort of British accent (could be from Auckland for all I could tell) and was riding a single speed bike. As it turns out he has some familiarity with using a chain tool. As I turned to say hello, I took my mind off the chain tool for a second and the pin popped out. [Insert F-bomb here].

Jason and I worked for several minutes on getting the pin back in to no avail. He was getting a sore back from squatting and my shorts were soaked through from sitting on the ground.  We were not having fun. We dropped the pin and it disappeared somehow. We now had only one choice take two more links out and re-assemble a significantly shorter chain. Jason pulled this off with surgeons precision.  The link was a little stiff but he had done a terrific job. Thank you, Jason.

I arrived at work about 1/2 hour late and spent about 20 minutes getting chain lube and assorted black gunk off my hands and legs.  Fortunately, my boss is a bike commuter and understands these things.

For the ride home, I decided to leave the chain in the granny gear and ride ever so gently.  Pedal, pedal, pedal, repeat.  I had no problems and could detect no chain skipping. Jason done good.  I registered each passing mile – 10 to go, 9 to go – as I rode.

I approached the boardwalk north of Old Town. The wader guys were gone. I think they may have been damming up the stream because the former wet land was now pretty wet.  Better still, several of the small trees in the water were topped with downy egrets.  When I see an egret or heron in a tree I think of  Dr. Seuss.  Then my bird watching was interrupted by a passing cyclist. It was Jason, proud to see that his handiwork was successful. 

After once again surviving the detour of death and a walking crossing of the George Washington Parkway, I rolled into my local bike shop. One of the best things about Spokes Etc. is that they will do on the spot minor repairs while you wait.  They have saved many a bike commute for me over the years. Unfortunately they didn’t have any SRAM 9-speed chain links lying around so I was out of luck on a repair. In the process of looking my bike over they determined that Jason’s repair was sound and that the chain was still long enough for me to use all my gears. 

I rode up a big hill to test their theory and the chain performed fine. It skipped a couple of times but that may have been the result of my gear shifter being one click off.  I got home in good shape and immediately cleaned my chain. It was a mess.  Then I looked around for spare chain links. I have a translucent plastic box with spare parts in it. I held it over my head and looked in the bottom. There it was:  a red box with the word SRAM on it. I put the box down, reached in and pulled out the box which contained about 2/3rds of a 9-speed chain.

Tomorrow I’ll ride Big Nellie again, this time armed with my chain links.

Tuesday’s child is full of grace. Let’s hope.

Twas a lovely day in Washington town.  The temps were in the low 70s.  A light cloud cover kept it that way.  A pleasant breeze topped it off. You know what I did.  I got up at the crack of dawn for a 200 mile bike-a-thon.

NOT.

I spent the start of my day on our new deck finishing The Hunger Games trilogy. I have been carrying around the saga of Katniss Everdeen for weeks and weeks and it was time to lighten the load.  For a series aimed at kids, these books are incredibly gory.  And fun. After I plow through the pile o’magazines on my nightstand, it’s back to grown up books – the latest from David Lodge and Michael Lewis.

Once the reading was done I headed out on Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent.  Big Nellie has been lonely.  I have been riding The Mule (my Sequoia) ever since I had a new rear wheel built and had the rear hub overhauled.  The mechanic said that I should ride it for a couple of weeks and bring it back for re-tensioning.  It’s been an epic (for me, anyway) couple of weeks. I put over 400 miles on that baby.  I think the wheel is fine, but I’m going to bring it in soon for a look over.

Big Nellie and I headed north on the Mount Vernon Trail (MVT).  We made our first stop at the Morningside bald eagle nest where one of the two photographers I have been seeing was hanging out. He told me that there are three eaglets in the nest.  He showed me some pictures on the screen of his camera.  Dang, that zoom he has works very well. We chatted for 10 or 15 minutes and I rolled away. 

I stopped at Belle Haven Park to replace some broken zip ties that hold the mesh seat back to the seat frame. The correct size zip tie is no longer made so I use two smaller ties in each mounting point.  This works until it doesn’t and I start all over again.  Soon I will replace the entire seat.  The new seat will use parachute chord to secure the mesh.  Zip tie sales at my local hardware store will never be the same.

Northward I rode managing to not crash on the dirt and gravel at the new Wilson Bridge underpass detour.  I certainly hope the contractor does a better job on the park than he’s been doing on the MVT because he’s totally incompetent when it comes to bike trails.

I breezed by Saint Mary’s School where they were having their spring bazaar.  They had one of those rides that you spin around in, get off, and puke.  Kids love them. Not me. At St. Mary’s Church a few blocks later church was letting out. Catholics, being in a state of grace, were jaywalking like there was no tomorrow.  If I were a bus, there wouldn’t be.

I glided down King Street to people watch. Many folks were brunching al fresco. Others were window shopping,  La di dah.

Back on the trail the traffic was building. I was in no hurry so I took my time behind tourist after tourist on rental bikes.  I noticed that my head wind was becoming a side wind.  It wasn’t very strong but every so often a gust would grab the fairing on the bike and I’d get a little passive assist.  Sweet.

Across the 14th Street Bridge and into DC on 15th. I normally take the sidewalk to the cycletrack at 15th and Pennsylvania but not today.  First I was stuck behind walking tourist, then I was swallowed up by Segways, then CaBi bikes.  I bailed on Constitution Avenue and swam east with the big dogs.

I hung a left on 7th and rode up the Bus and Bike Only lane.  There were no buses. There were lots of cars. I don’t think this lane works very well.  Time for a do-over DDOT. Either that or you should give up and call Honda Accords buses.

After Mount Vernon Square I stopped at BicycleSpace.  Everybody I know is talking about this shop and I can see why.  They sell Brompton folding bikes (I watched a sales person demonstrate the fold.  It’s magic, I swear.)  They also sell what the British would call proper city bikes with lights and racks and fenders and chainguards.  I want one. And they sell Brooks leather saddles.  Finally, somebody sells them around here. They’re not lightweight or inexpensive. They are, however, a treat to the seat.  The Mule and Little Nellie both have Brooks saddles.  Finally, BicycleSpace has Paul the best mechanic in town. He fixed the Mule ten years ago when absolutely no one else could. And he did it with a 25 cent part.  If your bike is hopeless, take it to Paul.

My next stop was Ben Chili Bowl. This restaurant on U Street is legendary hereabouts.  I bought a half smoke with everything on it to go. I put it in my pannier and rode up the 13th Street hill next to Cardozo High School. Spin, spin, spin.

After a few turns I was at Meridian Hill Park, destination for the day. I was there to attend my friend Florencia’s goodbye party. She’s leaving DC.  I was early so I ate my half smoke. Ugh. Half smokes with chili, mustard and onions is not biking food.  It may not be non-biking food either.

Flor give her acroyoga partner a massage

Flor spinning.

Although the party was not starting until three I made my way through the park. I spotted some acroyoga and, sure enough, it was Flor doing her Cirque du Soleil thing.  From a distance it looks effortless. Up close, you can tell how athletic she and her partner (he’s on his back with legs and arms up supporting her) are. 

Around this time I checked Twitter and found out that K.C. was nearby and invited her over.  She’s a fellow bike blogger and we’ve been crossing paths for a couple of years without meeting. We had a nice chat about her riding, her bike Betty, renting lock houses on the C&O Canal, and her police work. (She’s rides a bike on patrol.)   She’s interested in doing some riding on the GAP trail west of Cumberland MD and riding back on the towpath. My advice: DO IT! 

Back at the party things were going along swimmingly when Flor decided to ride Big Nellie. I warned her that her pants which had much loose fabric would get caught in the pulleys of the chain tensioner under the seat. Nothing stops Flor. She tied up her pants and started riding and rolling about. She was having a blast when all of a sudden the tensioner ate her pants. We spent the next 45 minutes trying to free her.  We tried breaking the chain but that only succeeded in damaging a link and making my hands black.  After much angst Jeff Dahloff, a bike commuter and ride partner on many a ride around these parts, noticed that we could disassemble the tensioner with a screwdriver and a nut driver – both of which were in my seat back bag. In two minutes Flor was free. I hope her pants aren’t ruined.

Flor insists that she did not get her pants caught so that she could attract every guy in the park to her aid.  If I had caught my pants leg, I’d still be in the park waddling around on the bike. For the record, Flor has nice legs.  So do I. Must be the hair.

We put the tensioner back together and, but for a skipping chain, Big Nellie was back in action. It was getting late so I said goodbye to Flor with a big hug.  As we came apart my arm hit her camera and it fell to the ground.  Ugh.  The gods are telling us something, Flor.

Once I realized the bike was operating okay, I had a pleasant ride home. The winds had changed direction and I had my second headwind of the day.  No problem. The MVT was jammed with people, many of whom simply wouldn’t move out of the way.  If it had been a hot and sticky day, I might have lost my temper and used Big Nellie’s death ray.  Instead I went with the flow. Once past the airport, the crowds ended and I was rolling free again.

I stopped at the Morningside nest. The photographer was still there 6 hours later.

I worked on the chain and I think it might be okay. Tomorrow will tell.

It was a nice ride. Good say hello to so many people. Very sad to say goodbye.

I approach Bike to Work Day with some trepidation much like W. C. Fields approached New Years Eve. When asked why he doesn’t go out on New Years Eve, he said “I don’t like to drink with amateurs.”  And so I am not thrilled about the prospect of interacting with hundreds of newbie bike commuters.  At the same time, I am really thrilled to see so many people out and about, discovering how you can turn your commute from an expensive hassle into an inexpensive fun time.

On Bike to Work Day organizations set up pit stops for bike commuters where there is music, food, and free stuff.  I left my house at 6:15, 45 minutes early to allow time for hanging out at the Rosslyn pit stop which is only two blocks from my office.  The weather could not have been better.

I was expecting to see bad biking behavior, broken down bikes and other un-fun stuff and I was not disappointed.  At 3 miles, just before jumping on the Mount Vernon Trail (MVT) I saw a bike commuter with a thrown chain. I would have stopped to help but I figured he could get chain lube all over himself just as easily as I could so I rolled on.

Cyclist Approaches New Wilson Bridge Detour

At the Woodrow Wilson Bridge I encountered a work crew. They are working on the renovation of the adjacent Jones Point Park. They are constantly installing detours in the MVT. Not one of them has been safe for riding.  Guess what. These knuckleheads pick Bike to Work Day to install another detour. This one a sharp “S” curve at the base of a hill. To make things even more interesting they used stone and dirt for the surface. I wanted to hit them on the head with my frame pump but the workers are not at fault. The contractor and the City of Alexandria (a certified Bicycle Friendly City, no less) are to blame.

I made it through the detour and rode down South Royal Street..   I stopped at the Alexandria pit stop in front of City Hall. After chatting with some volunteers I rode on. Only hours later did I realize that I could have filled my panniers with free stuff (you can never have enough water bottles, you know).

Old Town Pit Stop

The MVT was busy but not too crazy. It was, after all, still before 7 a.m.  As I approached the airport, I saw a man walking his racing bike with a flat front tire. Dude, bring a tube and a pump. A couple of minutes later, for the second day in a row, I was passing someone when a bike rider came up behind me really fast and yelled “BIKE LEFT!!!”  To which I loudly responded, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!” with all the sarcasm I could muster.  Note to Lance Armstrong Jr.: it’s not a velodrome. I do not care if you kill yourself, but I’ll be damned if you are taking me with you. If you want to ride your bike recklessly at 20+ miles per hour get off the path and out on the road with the big dogs. If you ever do that again to me, I will do to you what the Cinzano team did to Dave Stoller. I have an extra frame pump so its no skin off my nose.

End of screed.

I arrived in Rosslyn and did a full sweep of the swag fest scoring a t-shirt (my umpteenth BTWD model), 2 water bottles, a bell, some sun screen, a bike pin, a super nice reflective vest, and a banana and half a bagel.  There was no coffee. (I did get a 3-ounce cup an hour later.)  Note to organizers: coffee is to bikes as money is to politicians.  We need lots and lots or we don’t run.

Vuvuzula and Paparazza

I ran into Ed and Mary who stopped in Rosslyn because they regard it as the best put stop. They live in Southwest DC and work downtown so it’s almost comically out of their way. They have a tendency to ride their bikes a lot.  Ed was wearing his Paris-Brest-Paris reflective vest which he earned by riding a tandem with Mary over 700 miles in 3 1/2 days.  This is what happens when they eliminate funding for nervous hospitals.  Seriously, they are very nice people; you’d never know they are cycling and coffee addicts.

Ed and Mary in Caps from Nervous Hospital

Speaking of politicians, they never let a gather of constituents go by without grabbing a microphone and making a speech. Jim Moran, my Congressman, rode to the pit stop and made a speech about how cool it would be if the MVT was widened and extended to Chain Bridge. Sadly, the Tea Party austerity fanatics are cutting all bicycle-related funding from the transportation bill.  Better MVT, not bloody likely,

Ed Getting His 1,000 Bicycling T-shirt

There were all kinds of people milling about. Photographers taking pictures of each other, a guy with a Penny Farthing, three guys dress up as superheroes riding unicycles and a miniature bike through the crowd.

Here Mary, bagel in hand, is stalked by paparazzas

Ed and Mary headed out to Swings coffee to top off their commute with caffeine and conversation, a bike commuter together that they started called Friday Coffee Club. I hung out for a while longer. Laura, another Coffee Club regular rolled into the pit stop and I chatted with her and her entourage of male cyclists. I was beginning to think that the Rosslyn thing was just a ruse for the official BTWD Laura Pit Stop.  I admired the mixte Raleigh that she designed and put together. It made the Mule look sadly mule-like and down trodden. As usual I forgot to take a picture of it. The Mule thanked me later.

BTWD Vuvuzula Wake Up Team

I waited a while longer because my friend Florencia had told me she was coming to hang out. She’s getting ready to leave the country and is very busy so – as I later learned – she overslept.I will see her tomorrow anyway.

Here Congressman Moran gets my autograph as my stalking paparazza looks on

Not content to stalk me with still cameras, this bloke put me in his video

After a super slow day at work I left for the second leg of my three legged commute. My daughter’s high school spring choral concert was at 7 so I rode up (and I do mean up) Wisconsin Avenue to Cathedral Heights.  I love, love, love the National Cathedral. It was extensively damage by an earthquake last August but is now open even as repairs take place. (You can donate to the repairs here.) I stopped there briefly before heading on for some food.  After riding another mile I realized that I really wasn’t hungry and doubled back for her concert at the Maret School just east of the cathedral..

The Mule and the Cathdral

The concert was excellent (as usual)  and the crowd was especially exuberant as this was the final concert of the director of the school’s  musical department, Jim Erwin. Jim is leaving after 25 years to start a music program at a school for underprivileged kids in New Orleans. What a gutsy thing to do. 

After the concert I grabbed a cookie and rode down into Rock Creek Park  in the dark. I haven’t ridden in the dark in a few months and I haven’t ridden the goofy Rock Creek trail in the dark in a long, long time. I took my time and made it through the curves and bumps in one piece.

As I approached the Lincoln Memorial two small lights appeared ahead, a fox hanging out on the trail. He walked off and turned to take another look at me.  I think he said, “Dude” but my fox-ese is a little rusty.

On Ohio Drive I had the southbound lane to myself. The northbound lane was filled with in-line skaters gliding along in the dark.  They stretched our for about a half-mile.  The ability to use all this park land at night is another part of DC that I love,  The skaters and I were dodging tourist buses left and right as we passed.  These buses are like lumbering prehistoric beasts.  I’d swear they were feeding off the trees along the road.

I started my day riding along a busy MVT but my day ended with the MVT nearly all to myself.  I passed a few people watching the planes at Gravelley Point.  Blinded by headlights as I approached the George Washington Parkway I heard a blast from a whistle. Out of the headlights came two kids on  small bikes. No lights but a whole lot of noise and enthusiasm.

I worked my way through the crowds in Old Town Alexandria.  It was a beautiful night and the streets were packed.

After making my way through the detour of death at the Wilson Bridge I was back on the MVT for the home stretch.  I nearly ran over a couple dressed in dark clothing walking on the trail near Dyke Marsh.  I saw another fox dart for the underbrush. Then I stopped to check out the Morningside bald eagle nest.  The eaglets were nestled all snug in their nest. I couldn’t see any movement so on I rode, spotting a rabbit bounding into the undergrowth along the trail.

A mile from home on the  treet I spotted my third fox of the night, this one a kit scampering into a drainage pipe on the side of the road.  We’ve noticed a decline in the local rabbit population; my wife thinks the foxes are eating bunnies.

I arrived home after 38 1/2 miles of commuting at 10:30 pm.

I walked in my door and started talking to my wife and daughter. My daughter was late for her 1st period chemistry test this morning.  It took her forever to get through the traffic in Rosslyn because of “all those damned bikers.”  I had warned her to leave early but did she listen. NO.

Fortunately for her, her chemistry teacher, Mr. Walker, is one of the many Maret teachers and staff who bikes to work.  Sometimes those damned bikers are pretty understanding.

I set the alarm for 5:30, a half hour earlier than usual. I needed to be in the office by 8 for a seminar.  For some reason anytime I change the alarm I have trouble sleeping. I think I managed to get a solid 2 hours in last night – in 15 minute increments.  I staggered out of the house at 6:30 yawning all the way down the street on my mule. 

The ride was uneventful. My solitude on the Mount Vernon Trail was gone with the rain.  I noticed lots of Canada geese and mallards but have yet to see any goslings or ducklings. Baby birds are right behind spring peepers and lilacs as my favorite parts of spring. I love watching them develop morning after morning on my ride to work.

When I reached the intersection with the Slaters Lane off ramp on the trail I was passed by a young woman on a single speed orange bike. It had the colors of the French flag on the tip of the rear of the rear mudguard which was otherwise orange to match the bike.  The fender had the word “Public” printed on it. It looked like this:

. 
It was a very cool bike and the rider was quite stylish in her smooth white helmet with brim.  It looked like this

 (As you can see I just discovered the Public Bikes website.)

The girl on the bike was going just about the same speed as I was so I couldn’t pass her without putting on an obnoxious burst of speed.  Once we passed the two flyover bridges at National Airport I managed to see daylight and I passed her, saying “I love your bike” as I went passed.

About 20 minutes later I arrived at work and rushed into the fitness center locker room. It was a sauna in there.  I took a shower and could not get dry. Lovely.

I arrived at my office at 7:50 and checked my Outlook calendar to see what room the seminar was in.  Then I discovered that it is two weeks from today.  At least I wasn’t late.

By the time 4:30 rolled around I was a zombie.  I could barely keep my eyes open.  Fortunately the weather was nice (if you don’t mind humidity). I puttered along into a light headwind the whole way home. As I have been doing for several days, I stopped near the Morningside nest to see if I could spot a bald eagle.  Bingo.  A big eagle flew into the nest just as I looked up. The leaves on the tree around the nest obscured the bird but there was no mistaking its massive wings flapping as it landed on the nest.

After arriving home, my son fetched an extension ladder for me and I climbed it to clear out a gutter.  Having a 20-year old boy around the house sure is convenient. I struggle to carry and orient that ladder but he was whipping it around like it was made of styrofoam.  Usually when I mess with the ladder my back hurts for days. 

Since last Friday I have logged just under 220 miles.  If I am going to put in a five-bike-commute week, I need to get some shut eye.

Zzzzzzzzz…..

One of my favorite concerts of all time was seeing Raffi when my kids were little. Raffi is most famous for the song “Baby Beluga”, but his real talent is toddler wrangling. He had 1,500 kids in the palm of his hand.  “We’ll sing another song when you guys go back to your seats.” And they all did. Immediately. Raffi is a god.

My youngest child is 17. And this is a bicycling blog. What the hell am I going on about Raffi for?

It rained today. The kind of rain that keeps sane people from moving to Seattle. Small drops by the bajillions. I was soaked before I left my driveway. Robins were bouncing around in the grass hunting for worms. And whenever I see robins in the rain I think of the Raffi song called – wait for it – “Robin in the Rain”:

Robin in the rain
What a saucy fellow
Robin in the rain
Mind you socks of yellow

And so I felt quite a saucy fellow today (except my socks were black and wool and smelled like a dead goat when I got to work).

Most of my ride in was alone.  This is Bike to Work Week amigos. Do I have to do this all by myself? Okay. That means more bagels and coffee for me at the Rosslyn rest stop for Friday’s Bike to Work Day. Go ahead. Drive your cars.  Bwahaha. Nom. Nom.

The water gets to you.

I was passed by only two bike riders on the way in today.  That could be a record. Normally, it’s in the dozens. Those young whippersnappers who get on the trail after Old Town Alexandria with their fresh legs must think they’re something leaving me in their wake.  Just wait. Time will catch up with you and you’ll be slogging along just like me. In 20 years or so.

 Riding in the rain is actually quite fun even with the mediocre brakes on the Sequoia. Even if it weren’t fun, riding in the rain when the temperatures are moderate is way better than riding in January bundled up like Charlie Brown.

I was expecting a ride home in the same rain but five minutes after I left the office the rain stopped. The Mount Vernon Trail was mine and it was 65 degrees. And I had I light tailwind, to boot. Not too shabby.

I saw the movie The Avengers (the one with Iron Man not Diana Rigg in leather) last night. I loved it.  I collected comics as a kid and had the very first Avengers comic. I was a little disappointed that Giant Man and the Wasp were not in the movie, but you can’t have everything.  Now that I think about it ScarJo in leather was a pretty good replacement.

Egad, another pointless tangent. Not so! In one scene in the movie, The Hulk (do you capitalize the “T”?) tries to pick up Thor’s hammer and can’t.  Thor’s hammer can only be lifted by Thor.  I am pretty sure The Hulk would have trouble picking up the Sequoia (or is it The Sequoia?).  So I had this idea that I would finally give the Sequoia a proper name. I’d name it after Thor’s hammer. So I looked it up on Wikipedia. Thor’s hammer’s name is Mjolnir with two dots over the “o”,  I think it rhymes with “mule deer”.   On second thought, I’ll just call it the Sequoia.  After 30,000+ miles it’s too late to change now.

Obviously I have water on the brain. The forecast calls for more rain tomorrow.  I may have to switch tunes to “Rubber Ducky” if it doesn’t stop soon.