Tag: Bike Friday

Car Repair by Bike Friday

For the last three days, I’ve been dealing with car repairs. I took one car in on Monday to a body shop. I folded my Bike Friday and put it in the trunk. After dropping the car off, I rode to work. On Tuesday I rode to the body shop after work and reversed the process.DSCN3223_374

Today I drove to North Arlington with my Bike Friday in the trunk of another car. I dropped the car at a dealer for routine maintenance. Then I rode my Bike Friday the 3 1/2 miles to work. I didn’t break a sweat making me wonder why anybody who lives within four miles of work would drive a car or wait for a bus. Just ride a bike!

In the evening I reversed the process. Easy peasy.

So if you have a car and it needs some work done, get it done by bike. Works for me.

July by the Numbers

After my 1000-mile June, I backed off a bit in July. I rode to work 18 times. The only times I didn’t ride to work were days I took off or worked from home. My parking space at work must have cobwebs on it.

Other than a half-mile spin on The Mule to check out its new drivetrain, all my riding was on Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, and Big Nellie, my Easy Racers Tour Easy recumbent.  I rode Little Nellie for 16 commutes (including one where I rode from work to Nationals Park). Big Nellie picked up the other two rides to work.

My long ride for the month was Big Nellie’s 111 mile ride to Purcelville and back.

Total mileage for the month was 746 miles. About 2/3rds of which was on Little Nellie which pretty much tells me that my back will tolerate big miles on its little tires.

Off the bike I finally started doing some hiking. The Billy Goat A trail is only about 3.5 miles but it proved to be brutally hard on an oppressively hot and humid day. I did the Billy Goat B and C trails, a total of at least six miles. It was a much more enjoyable hike. I really like doing these hikes as a thing unto itself and as a break from all the biking I do. I need to further investigate the trails in the woods of Great Falls as well as the Rock Creek Park trails which I am ashamed to admit I’ve never hiked.

For the year I have racked up 91 commutes, 41 on Little Nellie, 24 on Big Nellie and 27 on The Mule. I’ve ridden 4,544 miles, a little under 650 miles per month.

 

Blocked and Blockhead

The Blocked

After a late night of watching the rain fall down at Nationals Park, I awoke in a bit of a fog. Unfortunately the fog in my brain was accompanied by humidity outside. I rode off into the mugginess officeward.

There was considerable leaf and twig debris on the roads. Somehow this debris was concentrated along the right side where I normally ride. So I boldly moved toward the center of the lane. No drivers’ egos were harmed.

Near Belle Haven Park, a tree had fallen across the trail. According to fellow bike commuter Reba, the tree nearly nailed a passing runner. As a former marathon runner, I can attest that this can ruin your whole day.

Little Nellie was not amused.
Little Nellie was not amused.

I made my way around the tree on foot and proceeded northward-ish. Near the power plant, I came upon a tractor trailer which had fallen across the trail. I rode around it on the grass.

Little Nellie was even less amused
Little Nellie was even less amused

Near the Memorial Bridge, a gaggle of geese formed an occlusion of the trail. I rode through them undaunted. One goose mouth a goose obscenity at Little Nellie,  I am pretty sure this goose is a columnist for the Washington Post. He was probably upset that in years past geese were ticketed for using the trail.

Over the course of the day, it got muggier. Or as the French say, “I’ll fait icky.”

I rode home under ominous skies. Sprinkles turned to light rain. Distant rumbles turned to thunder booms. The tractor trailer was gone but the trail was blocked by a cyclist chatting with a surveyor and a pedestrian. I stopped for the pedestrian almost certainly ruining my credibility as a bike terrorist.

On Union Street in Old Town, the bike lane was blocked twice. The first blockage was by an SUV double parked in the bike lane.  Shortly thereafter the but end of a luxury car was parked so as to preserve the entrance to a townhouse’s garage. It’s butt end blocked the trail.

At King and Union a King Street Trolley (actually a bus) stopped mid-block obstructing my way up Union Street. I was begining to think this was Block the Bicyclists Day, sponsored no doubt by the Washington Post.

The last five miles home were under a steady rain. The distant thunder and lightning suddenly became directly over head. BOOM! CRACK!

Uh oh. Not good. The hairs on my calves (the lower part of my leg, not my baby cows) stood on end. Eek.

Pedal pedal.

Fortunately, that was the worst of it. I arrived home soaked having somehow not terrorized anybody.

The Blockhead

You may have noticed that I have been making oblique references to the Washington Post today. This is because Courtland Milloy, a Post columnist, wrote a column today that expressed his exasperation with having to share the city with cyclists. In addition to some veiled racist remarks, he said that the $500 fine for hitting a cyclist with your car was worth the expense.

Mr. Milloy’s column demonstrated an astounding combination of ignorance, intolerance, and race baiting, quite the trifecta. It also contained many factual errors. Here are some facts for Mr. Milloy to think about:

  • My wife was run over on a crystal clear day by a careless driver in a hurry. She was lucky. She got to spend three months in bed. It took her the better part of a year to get back to something resembling normal. The driver nearly killed her in another way, because the aftermath of the crash left her unable to have surgery for a malignant tumor for one year.
  • My friend Rachel volunteered to ride sweep during a cycling event last December. Her job was to make sure that the very last riders finished safely. She was run over by an inattentive driver near FedEx Field. She was injured but fortunately recovered rather quickly. She is still jittery about riding her bike in the city.
  • My friend Charmaine was run over by a pickup truck while riding to work on Michigan Avenue in Northeast DC. The crash broke her right arm and destroyed her bike. She missed weeks of work and endured months of painful physical therapy. (It was the second time she’d been hit by a car.)
  • I didn’t know Alice Swanson, but six years ago today, she was riding her bike in a bike lane near Dupont Circle when she was run over by a truck and killed.

I could go on with more examples all night.

In my entire life of riding about 100,000 miles I only know of one death by cyclist. This happened when a kid at my grade school lost control of his bike and struck an old lady walking home from church. As bad as we all felt for the victim, we felt equally bad for the kid who was going to have to live with this for the rest of his life.

I hope Mr. Milloy parks his car and his hate. If he rode his bike in the city he might see what I see.

  • Riding through Anacostia on a Sunday morning is a joy. The church goers, dressed in their Sunday best, wave and say hello, even though in Mr. Milloy’s mind I am an evil suburban white guy on a bike and they are black and there are no bike lanes on MLK Boulevard.
  • That riding through all eight wards of the city during six or seven Fifty States Rides has revealed a city that is finally rising from the ashes of the 1968 riots and the farce of a crack head mayor. The restored Union Market and Lincoln Theater, the hundreds of rehabilitated rowhouses, the new buildings springing up everywhere, the resurrection of near Southeast. You miss this driving in and out of the city with a death grip on the steering wheel.
  • And that during those same rides and many, many more in DC, dozens of people have waved, cheered me and my fellow riders on, and made sure we didn’t take a wrong turn. Over and over again.
  • That little kids see me go by on my funny looking recumbent or my equally odd folding bike and say, “COOOL!”

I don’t like  riding my bike in DC during rush hours, but I’ll do it to get where I need to be. That doesn’t mean I am an inherently bad person or anti-car or racist.  It means that I am rational. I dislike driving in the city too. The difference is that in a car I have steel barrier between me and people like Mr. Milloy. On a bike, I am apparently a viable potential target for a pathetic man with a small mind.

Mr. Milloy should be ashamed of himself. As a 30-year subscriber to the Post, I have but one request. Stop running his columns. They are reckless, irresponsible, and hurtful. Find someone with a positive voice to fill the space.

 

June by the Numbers

It was a big month. 

How big was it?

1,110.5 miles that’s how big. 582 miles were from bike commuting, the rest from weekend rides.

I started out the month riding Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent for several days in a row, including five commutes. The rest of my rides, including 14 more commutes, were on Little Nellie, my New World Tourist. My long ride was 117.5 miles in a week that fell 0.5 miles short of 300 miles. 

My total mileage for the first half of the year is 3,798.5, including 2,163 miles riding to and from work 74 times. Even though I didn’t ride The Mule this month, my mileage is spread pretty evenly across my three bikes. 

I feel like I should drink a shower beer now.

Little Nellie, Big Ride

Bike Friday’s have little wheels and little wheels give a rough ride. That’s okay for commuting since work is 15 miles from home, but for longer rides it becomes a problem, especially with my problematic back. Whenever I ride long distances I take one of my other bikes which have a cushier ride.

Lately though Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, and my back have been getting along splendidly. I decided to take a day off work and go for a long ride. Since it was Friday, I headed into town for Friday Coffee Club. The ride in was uneventful if a bit slow. I had put 180+ miles on my legs in the previous five days.

I had a bowl of Cherrios and a banana for breakfast but decided to have a scone with my coffee at Swings in DC, because I am weak willed. After about and hour of gabbing, I hopped on Little Nellie and headed westward. I worked my way over to the new M Street Cycletrack. It’s pretty nice and extends one-way all the way to Georgetown. I like how there is a parking lane that separates the cycletrack from the rest of the roadway. I don’t like how several people treated it as an extension of the sidewalk or as a loading zone. And then there were two wrong-way cyclists. What is it about people in this city that they can’t clue in to the obvious.

Image

Near the end of the cycletrack I was joined by Jacques, Hugo’s dad. He was on his way from Swings to his home in Georgetown. As luck would have it, his house was on my way so we had a good talk for a mile or so. Once Jacques peeled off, I was back on solo mode. I followed Reservior Avenue to MacArthur Boulevard. The cars were going a litttle faster than I am used to so I used the cycletrack along the wide of the road. It’s a bit precarious because turning cars don’t expect to see cyclists when they are turning across the cycletrack.

I survived and made my way to the long hill after the Old Anglers Inn. It’s one of those giant’s staircase hills: riser, tread, riser, tread, riser tread and so on. After dancing with the luxury cars on Falls Road, I turned onto RIver Road heading west. River Road has a series of long downhills followed by long uphills. It can wear your ass out. I just plugged along. I made it through two lane closures with the help of flagmen that gave me defference to the cars.

After a long downhill to Seneca Creek, I momentarilly considered stopping for food and drink at Poole’s General Store. I’ll get some at White’s Ferry, I thought, not wanting to give up the momentum I was building on the downhill.

It was getting hotter but I felt fine. RIver Road becomes a shaded country lane after a while and I was in a world of my own. Then I turned up Mt. Nebo Road and the work began anew. This is another giant’s staircase but much more difficult than the one near Old Anglers.

I was relieved to make it to the top without dying. A short while later I came to a T intersection. I stopped and checked my cellphone for routing options. I decided to ride down to the C&O canal towpath and take that the last five miles to Whites Ferry. I was glad that the towpath was dry but not so fond of the occasional tree route that caught me off guard. I passed several touring cyclsts as I rode. None of them had front panniers just huge piles of stuff on back racks.

I popped out at Whites Ferry where I was to learn that the story and diner were closed. Uh oh. I had to wait for the ferry so I reached into my handlebar bag to check my phone for messages. No phone. Damn!

I looked and looked and couldn’t find it anywhere. I thought about it for a while and decided to head nack to the T-intersection some seven or eight miles back and look for it. I was down to my last half bottle of water and was starting to worry about running out. I passed a campsite along the canal. It had a water pump that was working so I, after testing the water for taste, filled all three bottles to the top. (The water in the well is treated with iodine so no worries about getting sick.)

At the T intersection there was no cellphone. I turned around and headed back to the ferry slowing for every object on the ground that might possibly be a cellphone. I found all kinds of rocks and poo, but no phone. I was pretty diligent when I came to a bump like the speed bump near Edwards Ferry. In several spots tree routes traverse the towpath. I hit a few of these pretty hard so everytime I came to one I slowed and looked hard. Rock. Poo pile. CELL PHONE!!!!

I had blown two hours and 15 miles looking for my phone so I needed to get rolling. The ferry only had three cars and me on it so the load/unload time was brief. The ride up to US 15 was peaceful. The five minute wait for the traffic light was annoying. I rode into Leesburg thankful that the big trucks didn’t roll over me.

There are plenty of places in Leesburg to eat. I couldn’t decide where to stop and I wasn’t all that hungry so I rode on. I banged a left onto the W&OD and headed east. Into a headwind. I am such a sucker for a tailwind that I didn’t notice its gentle assist on the way west. There was nothing to be done but grind it out with one eye on the clouds building to the south.

I as actually hoping for rain at this point. It would have felt great. Lightning not so much. I saw a trailside sign for a beer place but the clouds won. In Sterling I couldn’t resist the big BBQ sign at Carolina Brothers. I really don’t much like barbeque but my belly was all sconed out.

Image

Snarf.

Back on the trail I kept at it. I stopped again in Vienna for an Arnold Palmer and a Snickers bar. My legs were starting to feel it.

Pedal, pedal.

Since when is Vienna on a hill. Oh, Alps. Must be why they named it Vienna.

Pedal, pedal.

I saw a shirtless Mr. Universe walking along the rode. Dude was ripped. I offered to have his child.

Pedal, pedal.

(Just kidding about that.)

Into Arlington. I saw @Shawnofthedread ridng home from work. Do you know how hard it is to say hi when your mouth is full of Snickers.I wanted to tell him that I had just hit the 100-mile mark but all I could say was “Nom nom.”A little later on Fast Friendly Guy came by. Hi. (Snickers was gone.)

At the end of the W&OD I pressed the button to cross the street to get to the Anderson Trail. A sign above the button said this:

Image

I needed that laugh. Thank you, signage people.

Rather than mess around with the detour near Route 1, I doublebacked and headed up Commonwealth Avenue through Alexandria. It was a nice flat roll through the city. I caught only one light the whole way and picked up the Mount Vernon Trail south of town.

The storm clouds had broken up. The temperature had dropped into the seventies. The last miles were on autopilot.

117 1/2 miles. I was a bit beat up. My left hand was a little numb. My knees and back were a tad sore.

Pretty darned good way to spend a day off, if you ask me

Pix from the ride are on my Flickr page.

Chico Escuela and Little Nellie Turns 12

Chico Escuela and Little Nellie Turns 12

June’s been very, very good to me.

I spent most of the spring dealing with recurring back pain. I went to a physiatrist (i.e., pain doctor) and he gave me medications. He also ordered x-rays and an MRI. I switched to riding Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, full time. After a few weeks, and just before I was going to get a cortisone injection, the pain went away.

Rain and other circumstances led me to switch my riding to Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist. It has little tires that send a jolt from every bump straight to my lower back. Riding this bike was playing with fire.

At about this time I switch from regular pedals to Speedplay Frogs. My pedaling mechanics improved remarkably.

I kept riding Little Nellie and, lo and behold, my back didn’t hurt anymore. If been binge riding my wee bike now day in and day out for 600+ miles. Today, I rode to work with the wind at my back and Little Nellie hit 12,000 miles.

June’s been very, very good to me indeed.

Obstruction Cleared

Obstruction Cleared

This morning before 7:45 the tree that obstructed the Mount Vernon Trail was removed. It probably took all of ten minutes to do.

It has been pointed out to me that both the Mount Vernon Trail and Jones Point Park are owned by the National Park Service. I believe that the city maintains this section of the park. Either way, leaving this obstruction here for five days is not the sign of a bicycling friendly city. A bicycling friendly city would make sure that it’s bicycling infrastructure is treated with the same urgency as any street in its jurisdiction.

Bike Friendly City Fail

Bike Friendly City Fail

Last Thursday our area was hit by strong thunderstorms. South of Alexandria, microbursts hit the Belle Haven and Belle View areas of Fairfax County and Dyke Marsh especially hard. The Mount Vernon Trail in this area was closed as was the adjacent George Washington Memorial Parkway. Within a day and a half the trail and the Parkway were cleared of obstructions.

This tree came down across the Mount Vernon Trail in the same storm. Unfortunately, for trail users, this tree fell in Jones Point Park just south of Old Town in the city of Alexandria.

The League of American Bicyclists (of which I am a member) designated Alexandria as a bicycle friendly city at the silver level in 2013. You’d think that getting silver level status would mean that the city regards the users of the Mount Vernon Trail with respect. Not so much,

The failure to remove this downed tree is testimony to what’s wrong with the awards. Alexandria tolerates cyclists. I have to wonder whether Alexandria would even merit bronze status without the Mount Vernon Trail, a federal government trail.

If the city thinks I’m being harsh, prove me wrong. Remove the tree. And the next time this happens don’t wait days and days until trail users call you out on your inaction.

Little Nellie and the Marshall Plan

A few weeks ago I read about an old plantation from colonial days called Marshall Hall. It is, or as you will see what’s left of it is, located a bit downriver fom Mount Vernon on the Maryland side of the Potomac River. I’ve been wanting to go exploring in that general area. Today the weatherman was kind so Little Nellie, my Bike Friday, and I set out to check things out.

We rode the Mount Vernon Trail to the Wilson Bridge and crossed over to Maryland. I swiped my hand through the lavender on the overpass on the Maryland side of the river. It smelled divine.

The half-mile long slog up to Oxon Hill Road is all too familiar. Once at the top we hung a right into the Oxon Hill Road construction zone. It turned out to be not half bad, mostly because the drivers were well behaved and patient. We continued past the strip mall and down the steep hill where we easily broke 30 miles per hour. Thirty on 20 inch wheels is a bit hair raising, I must say.

We followed Livingston Road which as a cycling route leaves much to be desired. There is no paved shoulder, the side of the road is often patched or crumbling asphalt, drivers were a bit more aggressive, and, well, the scenery is ugly. Once we crossed Indian Head Highway the route gradually improved. We re-crossed Indian Head Highway and the road became rural: dense trees, fields of grass, goats and horses, crazed survivalists shoot AK47s.

Okay, I made that last bit up.

They were uzis.

It’s hard to tell on Google Maps just which road leads to Marshall Hall so in a bit of inspired daring we chose to ride down Old Marshall Hall Road. After a couple of miles I turned off onto Barrys Hill Road which led us to (New) Marshall Hall Road. This was a highway with no one on it. (I looked for Bono but he wasn’t around.) Huge paved shoulders, flawless pavement, and not a car in sight. And it was flat. Ah.

I neglected to mention that the ride thus far had been hillier and bumpier than I am used to, so I was getting beat up by Little Nellie’s 20 inch wheels.

After 27 miles of riding we pulled up in front of Marshall Hall. It has seen better days.

Image

We took a side trip to a small graveyard for the Marshall peeps. The stones were flat against the ground and the inscriptions had been worn down by 200 or so years of exposure to the elements.

Image

I checked the sign at the entrance and learned that there had been amusement parks of one sort or another here for about 100 years from the late 1800s to the 1970s. No trace remains of that part of history. 

We spent a few momemts at the nearby boat launch and took pictures of the Virginia side of the river. It was hard to figure out what was what since this is an entirely new perspective. We were between Fort Belvoir and Mount Vernon.

On the ride back we took a slightly different route that allowed me to avoid about 1 1/2 miles of Livingston Road. Along the way I spotted an upside down turtle on the side of the road. As I bent to turn it back over, I saw the blood next to it. On closer inspection I could see that the shell had been flattened and the turtle’s insides had been crushed. No more snapping for this one, I’m afraid.

There were many, many hills on this ride but easily the hardest one was the long steep ride up Oxon Hill Road. This sucker is a beast. The shoulder is paved but the pavement is covered with the droppings of a cement truck. You have to earn this climb.

We did, but I was pooped. And my back was sore. So we headed home. 

Marshall Hall was a bit of a disappointment but I think it will be worthwhile to further investigate the roads down thataway. Once you get about four miles south of the beltway the roads are actually quite rural and the drivers mellow out.

Some pix are over on my Flickr page.

 

Mystery Flat #2

I began my day with a flat. The Mule was in the shed when I spotted the squishy rear tire. Being an adaptable sort of guy, I quickly sized up the situation: fix the flat or take Little Nellie to work. Little Nellie won.

I haven’t ridden Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, with its little wheels because I have been protecting my back. Little wheels and a stiff frame mean my back takes a beating on this bike. Little wheels also mean that it is quite a lot of fun to ride. Fun won over back concerns.

Except for a short ride on The Mule yesterday, I have been riding Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, exclusively for the last two weeks.  My arms, butt, and legs were not ready for riding Little Nellie so the ride in took about 10 minutes longer than expected.

During the day, Carl, the mechanic at my local bike shop, called. He said that the problem with the steering on Big Nellie was a cracked headset. This made me mad. I almost called the manufacturer. You’d think a headset would last longer than a mere 36,000 miles.

We discussed whether I wanted to spend a ton of money on a “better” headset. I thought about it and told him to put a headset of the same quality as the one on the bike. If it fails in 36,000 miles, I’ll consider an upgrade.

The ride home was a muggy slog. I beat a line of nasty thunderstorms home by about 45 minutes. All the way I was wishing that I had put Speedplay Frogs on Little Nellie. That will have to wait until they come in the mail.

Once home, I wiped off The Mule’s rear tire and took it off. I pulled the tube from the wheel and inflated it until it was supesized. No leak anywhere. This same thing happened to the rear wheel on Big Nellie a few weeks ago. Not finding anything sticking through the tire itself, I put everything back together and pumped up the tire. Maybe the valve is bad. I’ll know in the morning.