Deets Zooms His First Commute

I bought Deets, my Surly Cross Check, this time last year. I really haven’t ridden it much, if you can call 1,500 miles not much. Today that changed. I rode it to work for the first time.

It was the fastest commute of the year. I can’t tell if it was the adrenaline of riding my newish bike or the bike itself. Deets has different gearing than my other bikes. Instead of three chainrings (the gears in front) and eight or nine cogs (the gears in the back), it has two chainrings and ten cogs. This set up is called a compact double. It is zoomier, because the gears are more bigger (and maybe because it weighs less than my other tanks, er, bikes). My old legs don’t like big gears but seeing as how they had no choice in the matter they turned the bigger gears which made me more faster.

Something about the geometry of this bike makes it easier to ride standing up. This comes in handy when short hills are in the way .So I stood up a few times and the little hills seemed to disappear.

I was a little concerned that the climb up to Rosslyn would be nasty on my knees but I zoomed up that too. (Okay, I zoomed relative to my normal climbing speed. I still climb like a sloth. No bike can fix that.)

The ride home was equally zoomy, despite a hot, muggy headwind. I think I cut five minutes off my normal commuting time.

This was fortunate because dark clouds were forming overhead. Yay, speed.

I think I’ll ride Deets again tomorrow.

Zoom.

Oh two one three four!

Random Sunday

I rode to the Nationals game after work Friday night. It was suffocatingly hot. The Nats lost to the lowly Braves. I went alone. I had a great time.
An usher ejected a fan for heckling the Braves left fielder. The fan got his money’s worth. He certainly gave me a few laughs. Well played, dude.
An Atlanta player hit a home run that landed about four seats away from me in the row behind mine. It bounced off a fan and the rebound went to a guy in my row about six seats away.
A mom brought three kids to the game. They were sitting in the row in front of me. She went to the concession stand. When she came back and found out that a home run landed two seats behind her she couldn’t believe her bad luck. The kids thought it was pretty funny though.
I had the seat at the end of the row. Home run guy and his buddies wore me out with their pee runs. Never buy seat 1 or seat 20.
Another home run landed in the seats a section to my left. The fan caught it on the fly. Barehanded.
I almost caught a t-shirt during the t-shirt toss promotion but another fan got two hands on it just as it was about to hit my hand. She paid for the shirt: her chest hit the railing in the middle of the aisle. Ow.
The ride home was aided by post-game fireworks. Less car traffic means better biking. Boom!
The ride through Old Town Alexandria at 11:30 pm was scary. The sidewalks were full of loud, drunken idiots. I assumed that drivers were similarly inebriated. I was extremely careful and am thankful that I made it through in one piece. Of course, the Alexandria police (who spend their time ticketing early morning bike commuters) were nowhere to be found.
I have decided to call the Cross Check Deets. After Joshua Deets, the scout for the Lonesome Dove cattle drive. He is described by Capt Augustus McCrae as “Cheerful in all weathers. Never shirked a task. Splendid behavior.” I hope my Deets is as noble.
After a year of light riding, I will be using Deets for commuting starting tomorrow. The rack has bigger tubes than the racks on my other three bikes so I had to adjust the hardware on my panniers. I test rode the bike with panniers for the first time. My heels had plenty of clearance so tomorrow’s commute should be sweet.
This morning I went for a short ride down to Woodlawn by way of Mount Vernon on Deets. Every time I stopped the oppressive heat and humidity sucked the sweat out of every pore in my skin. It was gross. There will be better days for weekend excursions. Maybe a hike next weekend. It’s been too long.

Milestone No. 3: Little Nellie Hits 17

I rode to work and went to the baseball game last night. On the way home I managed to avoid running across (quite literally) a homeless person splayed across the access path to the Case Bridge trail. Somewhere just shy of the Olympic drunk slalom that is Old Town on a Saturday night, Little Nellie’s odometer turned 17,000 miles.

The next milestone will be in a week to ten days. I’ve been working on it for 25 years. Stay tuned.

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Fifty States in a Day

Many years ago some loony at the Washington Area Bicyclists Association (WABA) concocted a ride through all eight wards of the District of Columbia. As the name implies, the 50 States Ride takes participants along each of the 50 roads named for states in DC.

It is a challenging ride, but it is not a race. After about 20 miles of flat riding near downtown, the hills begin. There are many hills, a few steep ones, a few long ones. What goes up must come down, right? Well, not so much. Nearly every downhill ends in a stop sign or a traffic light. Riders do the work but they don’t get the full benefit of the hills. That’s why it is harder than nearly any other 62 mile ride you can do. (Also, make sure your brakes work!) What I am trying to say is this: if you intend on doing the whole ride, bring your A game. Or bail on the Metro back to the after party. We won’t judge. (Rosie Ruiz, phone home.)

Another fun part of the ride is the 9-page cue sheet. It is practically impossible to do the ride without making a wrong turn. The route changes from year to year so even experienced riders screw up. I missed the second turn in 2014 and I’d done the ride six times.

The frequent stops and insane directions have an added benefit: they practically force you to talk with the other riders, many of whom will be strangers (unless you are one of those creepy people with over 1,500 Facebook friends). If you don’t meet people on this ride, you may have deep personal issues. I first did this ride in 2006. As I have said many times before, the 50 States Ride is responsible for me meeting over 60 people.

Here’s another benefit: when you do the ride several times over the years you get to see first hand the incredible transformation that has occured in DC. A friend of mine and I have done the ride together twice. In January 2012 we attended a WABA happy hour at a bar near Nationals Park. She remarked that she had never been in this section of the city before. When I told her that we had ridden past that very spot only three years before, her jaw dropped.

I have worn a 50 States t-shirt outside of DC many times. I love it when people ask me incredulously, “You’ve ridden in all 50 States?!”

In order to do the ride, you must be a WABA member. So click on the link up above and sign up. This year’s ride is on Saturday, September 10.

I will be out there for the 8th time this year. Somebody give me a push up Garfield Street please.

Milestone No. 2: Big Nellie Turns 40

Big Nellie is my Easy Racers Tour Easy recumbent. I bought her in 2001 or 2002 when I thought The Mule was on its last legs. (At the moment, The Mule is laughing in the shed with over 41,000 miles on its odometer.)

So today, with trumpets blaring as I rode between the scenic warehouses of Old Town Alexandria, Big Nellie turned 40,000 miles. She was quite impressed with herself. On to the next milestone later this week or early next week. Stay tuned.

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Milestone Number 1

August will prove to be a month of milestones for biking and me. Today is the first of what I hope to be four milestones this month.

Today marks my 100th bike commute of 2016. I have reached 100 faster a few years ago but given the amount of time off from work I took this June and July, I am a bit surprised to get to 1oo in the first week of August.

I worked 131 days so far this year. 10 of those were telework. I drove 21 times, mostly because of ice and snow. The rest of the time I biked. The commutes were split among three bikes: 28 commutes for Little Nellie, my Bike Friday; 36 times each for The Mule, my 25 year old Specialized Sequoia, and Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent.

I expect the next milestone to occur on Monday. Stay tuned.

Today’s News: Annoying, Depressing

Cement Truck Parking

The Mount Vernon Trail is one of the most heavily used trails on the East Coast. Ab 28624928742_d40e68caa3_z out two miles from my house, the trail merges with Northdown Road. As
you can see from the picture, at this point, the trail and road are only one lane wide. It is in fact a trail not a road. That didn’t stop this cement truck driver from parking in the trail. I’d use the words “middle of the trail” but the truck obstructed the entire trail. Every last inch. Perhaps the driver thought “Hey, look at this trail. It’s the perfect width for parking my truck.”

Trail users had to dismount and make their way through the mud on the side of the trail. It was barely wide enough to get by.

I may be making a big deal out of nothing but this is the kind of disrespect that bicyclists and bicycle infrastructure routinely get, especially in places like Fairfax County. All this truck driver had to do was park where I was standing when I took this picture and trail users would have had free passage.

Death by Parking

Earlier today, a 92 year old driver was parking his SUV in an alley a block from the Mount Vernon Trail in Old Town, Alexandria. He hit a parking attendant, then he hit another man, killing him. How the hell you can kill someone in an alley that is about as wide as the trail in the picture above is beyond me. Why in the world does Virginia allow 92 year olds to drive? Will somebody from the DMV show up at the funeral to explain this to the loved ones of the deceased?

I’m Walking Here

Meanwhile in the 400 block of North Union Street an SUV was parked perpendicular to a house. It’s front end completely obstructed the sidewalk. Sticking in the ground next to the front bumper was a sign that said “No Not Block Driveway.” There is no end to the entitlement mentality of the landed gentry of Old Town Alexandria.

$2.5 Billion for Nothing

On Friday evening at rush hour my family and I drove to Tyson’s Corner. (This is the first time I have driven to Tyson’s in a year. It will be the last, but that’s another story.) On the way we got on the Beltway at US 1, just west of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. Traffic heading to the bridge from Virginia was backed up for miles. In all six lanes. The bridge is only a few years old. The project to rebuild the bridge and the adjacent roadway and exits cost about $2.5 billion. The rationale was that this would relieve congestion. Trying to relieve congestion by adding more capacity is like trying to achieve happiness by buying more stuff. If only I had one more lane! If only I had one more HDTV!

The bridge was designed with the capacity to carry a Metro rail line. This has yet to be implemented. Already people are calling for the rail line space to be converted to car lanes.

July – Going Long

July was my biggest mileage month in ages. Maybe forever. I rode 1,183 miles. Most of these were as part of my bike tour of Wisconsin and Michigan which totaled 832 miles. The other 351 miles came as a result of 11 bike commutes and yesterday‘s weekend ride. One of these commutes was to and from the mechanic instead of home. Another involved riding to my wife’s office to rendezvous with my kids to see a Nats game.

During the month, The Mule crossed the 41,000 mile threshold. The Mule abides.

For the year I have ridden 4,555 miles. 2,807 miles were just from bike commuting 96 times. Even though it’s 25 years old, the Mule accounted for 46 percent of my mileage. Big Nellie, which is about 14 years old, did 25 percent of my miles. Little Nellie, my folding travel bike, bagged 18 percent of my miles. That left only 11 percent for my Cross Check. I am just not riding teh Cross Check much on weekends. I am thinking of using it for commuting in a month or so.

I have only done a three event rides this year (Vasa, Five Boro, and DC Bike Ride).

I didn’t do any hiking in July. I mean to fix that next month.

Also, I signed up for three century rides in September and October. I will almost certainly do the 50 States Ride in September and the Great Pumpkin Ride in late October.

According to the fitness center scale at work, the bike tour took well over ten pounds off my “engine.” I suspect measurement error. If the scale isn’t broken, I am down in the low 190s. When the trip ended two weeks ago, I was probably in the high 180s.

Maybe I should quit my job and market the Rootchopper Weight Loss Plan in which you eat enormous portions of cheese laden food and drop 20 pounds in less than two weeks. The secret sauce (as it were) is to ride a 70+ pound bicycle 73 miles per day.

Great Falls > New Tires

The plan was to put two new tires on The Mule. Then I walked outside. It was MUGGY. Then I looked at the old tires on The Mule. They looked acceptable. Sort of.

Then I jumped on my neglected Cross Check and headed to Great Falls Park in Maryland.

The first 13 miles was essentially my commute route, the Mount Vernon Trail and the 14th Street Bridge, to DC. Ohio Drive and some sidewalks masquerading as bike trails took me to K Street in Georgetown. I survived the half mile traffic gauntlet and made it to the Capital Crescent Trail.

I was making pretty decent time. This is attributable to three factors: a light tailwind, fresh legs, and, well, I’m a badass.

I switched over to the C&O Canal towpath at mile 18. The Cross Check loves the towpath. After a couple of miles, I had some solitude and it was bliss. Sweaty bliss but bliss nonetheless.

I rode past Widewater, a section of the canal just downriver from Great Falls. There were about 8 women sitting on stand up paddle boards in the canal. They were finishing, I am not making this up, a yoga class. Floating yoga? Really?

I stopped to check out the rapids at Great Falls. It rained heavily yesterday and the rapids were muddy and raging. If you’ve never been to DC, make sure you put Great Falls on your to do list. (I prefer the Maryland side because it has the towpath, a trail out through the rapids, and several really good hiking trails.)

After watching the water show, I headed out of the park on the access road. It’s a long up hill that leads to what is normally a fun, curving downhill. Unfortunately, the road surface is choppy and, even on the Cross Check, not a road I want to ride over 30 miles per hour on.

I survived the descent.

The ride back was a familiar one along MacArthur Boulevard to Resevoir Road, back to the canal. From there I retraced my ride out with the exception of using a new bike path through the park on the Georgetown waterfront. The path is nice enough, but on an oppressively hot day the pedestrians and tourists on bikes were annoying. They’d just stop and chat in the middle of the path.

I had the following conversation a half dozen times:

“PASSING!”

“Oh. Sorry.”

I have the patience of a Swede.

The ride home was uneventful. There were no Lance Mamilots to irritate me. Despite encountering plenty of families with little ones riding tentatively on the trail, I remained civil.

How unlike me.

When I arrived home, my odometer read

So I went inside and had this:

The Key Thing Is, I’m Not Senile

Today was chore day. I replaced a light bulb in a ceiling light. I researched 529 account reimbursements. I made two trips to the hardware store for a toilet repair that didn’t take. I ordered the proper toilet part online. I went to Home Despot for weed whacker twine. I repaired my Carradice Burley saddle bag.

When I got home I locked the car and put my purchases away. Then I realized that the key that I used to lock the car was not in my pocket. It was nowhere. I retraced my steps. Again. And again. And again. No keys.

I asked my wife and daughter where the spare key was. It was with our son. In Thailand. I am not making this up.

I searched the target area like I was looking for a downed aircraft at sea. No luck.

Finally, I decided the key had to still be in the car. I called a locksmith. He came withing the hour. He pried a gap in the door. Then he inserted a bladder and inflated it. This created enough space for him to insert his magic door opening tool. He had the door opened in two minutes.

I looked through the car. High and low. No key. And the alarm went off. We’re havin’ fun now.

After five minutes which seemed like an eternity, the alarm stopped.

I retraced my steps. On my hands and knees. No key.

I opened the car door to do another search. The alarm went off again. F meeee!

The last time I felt this bewildered about a car was when my car was stolen from a dirt parking lot near L’Enfant Plaza where I used to work. (The lot is now filled with expensive town homes.) Did I park it somewhere else in the lot? Did I leave the door opened? Was I losing my mind?

Nope. My car was swiped.

Over the next few days I looked for it. I rode my bike through the parking lots at National Airport, the perfect place to drop a hot car. No luck.

The car finally showed up in a townhouse development in Franconia VA.

Nothing makes you fell like your mind is broken than something utterly unexpected happening. Like losing your keys. Or having your car stolen. Or, not to be too morbid, when someone you know dies for some completely random reason.

I have contacted my son to send us his car key. Tomorrow, weather permitting, I am renting a metal detector. I am not losing my mind.

Yet.

UPDATE

My wife came home and did another search. She found the damned key.

She asked me “Where do Alzheimer’s patients lose their keys?” The answer is in the freezer.

She pointed to our refrigerator. I opened the door and there was the key.

I laughed my ass off.

Then, she told me she actually found the key in the grass near the front door to the house.

I’ve been punked.

But I’m so glad we found the key.