tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49927541769342753032024-03-12T16:30:23.566-07:00The Stranded Dopamine ReceptorStrandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-75386662831590693772012-03-04T14:01:00.002-08:002012-03-04T14:28:28.492-08:00Questions!I just watched the Paris-Nice prologue time trial and was dismayed at the insipid questions Larsson, the winner, was asked. For instance, this cutting edge journalistic query was put forth: "Is this a big moment for you?" Granted, it would have been a coup if Larsson had said, "Nah, it's no big deal. I expected to win because these guys are all a bunch of losers anyway." He could have taken his place with Voeckler and Lance as guys people love to hate. But he only said, "Of course it's a big moment."<br /><br />So, as a public service to "journalists" everywhere, here are some questions worth asking. Granted, some of them have little or nothing to do with cycling or the race that's just been run, but they will generate interesting answers, which makes up for all other deficiencies:<br />1. What color panties are you wearing?<br />2. Are you on drugs?<br />3. What color are your panties?<br />4. Are you a fan of the Brazilian wax?<br />5. Do your panties match your bike shorts?<br />6. Do you think podium girls should be nude, or if not nude, then clad only in body paint?<br />7. Do your panties match the color of your bike? <br />8. Do you think the UCI officials who took two years to decide if Contador cheated or not should retroactively dock their own pay and demote themselves to volunteer assistant-tire inflators?<br />9. Would you consider selling ad space on your panties to Specialized?<br />10. Did you know that Bob Roll doesn't know what "interpolate" means?<br />11. Did you know you can make your own road i.d. with a Sharpie marker, a bit of plastic cut from a milk jug, and an old sock, none of which cost anywhere close to twenty bucks plus shipping and handling? Granted, the "handling" probably includes riding in Levi Leipheimer's crotch while he does a century, but is that really worth $9.99?<br />12. Did you know the elastic from a pair of panties can be used to hold your home-brewed road i.d. to your wrist, or your dangle, or your scrotum, or wherever you carry it?<br />13. Do you prefer podium girls with small, medium, or large hooters?Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-75599787194733906412011-10-06T18:01:00.002-07:002011-10-06T18:11:27.300-07:00In Praise of LimestoneHow many hours and miles have I spent riding over the limestone above Mammoth Cave? Who can deny that this is a damn' reckless way to spend a life? It's time for some Auden on this here little blog. BTW, my favorite bit is this:<br /><br />"But the really reckless were fetched <br />By an older colder voice, the oceanic whisper: <br />`I am the solitude that asks and promises nothing; <br />That is how I shall set you free. There is no love; <br />There are only the various envies, all of them sad.'"<br /><br />I think I've been "really reckless" my whole life (and what cyclist is not?), but I never knew what to call it untill I read Auden.<br /><br />In Praise Of Limestone<br /><br />If it form the one landscape that we, the inconstant ones, <br />Are consistently homesick for, this is chiefly <br />Because it dissolves in water. Mark these rounded slopes <br />With their surface fragrance of thyme and, beneath, <br />A secret system of caves and conduits; hear the springs <br />That spurt out everywhere with a chuckle, <br />Each filling a private pool for its fish and carving <br />Its own little ravine whose cliffs entertain <br />The butterfly and the lizard; examine this region <br />Of short distances and definite places: <br />What could be more like Mother or a fitter background <br />For her son, the flirtatious male who lounges <br />Against a rock in the sunlight, never doubting <br />That for all his faults he is loved; whose works are but <br />Extensions of his power to charm? From weathered outcrop <br />To hill-top temple, from appearing waters to <br />Conspicuous fountains, from a wild to a formal vineyard, <br />Are ingenious but short steps that a child's wish <br />To receive more attention than his brothers, whether <br />By pleasing or teasing, can easily take. <br /><br />Watch, then, the band of rivals as they climb up and down <br />Their steep stone gennels in twos and threes, at times <br />Arm in arm, but never, thank God, in step; or engaged <br />On the shady side of a square at midday in <br />Voluble discourse, knowing each other too well to think <br />There are any important secrets, unable <br />To conceive a god whose temper-tantrums are moral <br />And not to be pacified by a clever line <br />Or a good lay: for accustomed to a stone that responds, <br />They have never had to veil their faces in awe <br />Of a crater whose blazing fury could not be fixed; <br />Adjusted to the local needs of valleys <br />Where everything can be touched or reached by walking, <br />Their eyes have never looked into infinite space <br />Through the lattice-work of a nomad's comb; born lucky, <br />Their legs have never encountered the fungi <br />And insects of the jungle, the monstrous forms and lives <br />With which we have nothing, we like to hope, in common. <br />So, when one of them goes to the bad, the way his mind works <br />Remains incomprehensible: to become a pimp <br />Or deal in fake jewellery or ruin a fine tenor voice <br />For effects that bring down the house, could happen to all <br />But the best and the worst of us... <br />That is why, I suppose, <br />The best and worst never stayed here long but sought <br />Immoderate soils where the beauty was not so external, <br />The light less public and the meaning of life <br />Something more than a mad camp. `Come!' cried the granite wastes, <br />`How evasive is your humour, how accidental <br />Your kindest kiss, how permanent is death.' (Saints-to-be <br />Slipped away sighing.) `Come!' purred the clays and gravels, <br />`On our plains there is room for armies to drill; rivers <br />Wait to be tamed and slaves to construct you a tomb <br />In the grand manner: soft as the earth is mankind and both <br />Need to be altered.' (Intendant Caesars rose and <br />Left, slamming the door.) But the really reckless were fetched <br />By an older colder voice, the oceanic whisper: <br />`I am the solitude that asks and promises nothing; <br />That is how I shall set you free. There is no love; <br />There are only the various envies, all of them sad.' <br /><br />They were right, my dear, all those voices were right <br />And still are; this land is not the sweet home that it looks, <br />Nor its peace the historical calm of a site <br />Where something was settled once and for all: A back ward <br />And dilapidated province, connected <br />To the big busy world by a tunnel, with a certain <br />Seedy appeal, is that all it is now? Not quite: <br />It has a worldy duty which in spite of itself <br />It does not neglect, but calls into question <br />All the Great Powers assume; it disturbs our rights. The poet, <br />Admired for his earnest habit of calling <br />The sun the sun, his mind Puzzle, is made uneasy <br />By these marble statues which so obviously doubt <br />His antimythological myth; and these gamins, <br />Pursuing the scientist down the tiled colonnade <br />With such lively offers, rebuke his concern for Nature's <br />Remotest aspects: I, too, am reproached, for what <br />And how much you know. Not to lose time, not to get caught, <br />Not to be left behind, not, please! to resemble <br />The beasts who repeat themselves, or a thing like water <br />Or stone whose conduct can be predicted, these <br />Are our common prayer, whose greatest comfort is music <br />Which can be made anywhere, is invisible, <br />And does not smell. In so far as we have to look forward <br />To death as a fact, no doubt we are right: But if <br />Sins can be forgiven, if bodies rise from the dead, <br />These modifications of matter into <br />Innocent athletes and gesticulating fountains, <br />Made solely for pleasure, make a further point: <br />The blessed will not care what angle they are regarded from, <br />Having nothing to hide. Dear, I know nothing of <br />Either, but when I try to imagine a faultless love <br />Or the life to come, what I hear is the murmur <br />Of underground streams, what I see is a limestone landscape.<br /><br />W.H. AudenStrandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-52798885152289903402011-07-04T06:35:00.000-07:002011-07-04T06:45:14.635-07:00Enough!In the wake of controversies surrounding Armstrong and Contador--or can we even refer to the "wake" yet, since the messes are still unresolved?--I've come to the reluctant conclusion that the UCI and all other cycling authorities need to ban testing.<br /><br />That's right, ban testing. It's not that I like the idea of riders doping. But the problem is, testing has apparently not had anything like the desired effect. Instead, testing has created a sort of shadow competition that means whoever has the best doctor or chemist to figure out how to beat the doping test has an advantage over other riders. This is not the sort of competition we want to see. So the authorities should simply get out of the business. They're not helping.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-52912588454462195392011-06-18T13:25:00.001-07:002011-06-18T13:47:42.015-07:00Of single speeds and chain whips (sounds like leather vests or rubber underpants ought somehow to be involved, doesn't it?)Despite the fact that I've climbed every steep hill in my riding area on my single-speed with the 18 tooth rear cog, I have aspired for some time to put on a 20- or possibly 22-tooth rear cog. I've got another single-speed with an 18-tooth cog which I will keep for when I'm feeling masochistic. Having never changed a cog before in my life (a major accomplishment last week was to replace a bottom bracket bearing in the same bike), I knew special tools (not the kind Congressmen like to photograph) would be involved. So I looked at the bike, looked at pictures on the Internet, and got lucky (no, not those pictures, and not that kind of lucky): I actually got the right freewheel tool the first time, without having to reorder anything. But then I came to terms with the fact that I needed a chain whip--another mysterious tool whose use I had never grasped until I needed one. Since the cog is self-tightening in riding use, and since it's the nature of the freewheel to spin freely the other direction, the chain whip holds the cog while you unscrew (using the freewheel tool) the ring that holds the cog in place. Chain whips are not that expensive, but I wanted the job done now, and the nearest shop that might sell me one is thirty miles away. So again to the Internet--where someone pointed out the not-until-then-at-least-not-to-me obvious, which is that you can wrap an old chain around the cog, clamp onto the old chain with Vise-Grips (or in my case, cheap Chinese locking plier knock-offs), and wallah, you have a serviceable chain whip. Which is the only useful bit of info in this post. The ring was on so tight that I had to use a lever on both the pliers and the wrench, but the job is done.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-40461171087555903712011-05-27T08:16:00.000-07:002011-05-27T08:19:20.233-07:00Of earthquakes and bikesIf there's a silver lining to the cloud of earthquakes and tsunamis in Japan, this might be it: more people are riding bikes there. What disaster will it take for us in this country to park our SUVs and make bike lanes?:<br />http://3speedtouringinjapan.blogspot.comStrandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-73625081378029969452011-05-27T07:11:00.001-07:002011-05-27T07:17:14.130-07:00Naked bike rideThe headline proclaims "The 40 Best Pictures From The World Naked Bike Ride ‘09 (NSFW)." Personally, I'm skeptical. Looks like the choices were made in order to render the collection, if not not NSFW, then at least a little closer to being SFW than if it really had the best photos of naked and not-quite-naked people on bikes. You decide: http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/the-40-best-pictures-from-the-world-naked-bike-ridStrandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-85783166919858198702011-05-09T16:13:00.000-07:002011-05-09T16:23:00.152-07:00It's Alive! Or Ten Miles and a Six (er, er, What Comes After Six?)-Pack Later<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Yzho0aB-GdA/Tch3DkZvq2I/AAAAAAAAAD4/4jmn_-0QL_M/s1600/pabst-blue-ribbon-logo.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Yzho0aB-GdA/Tch3DkZvq2I/AAAAAAAAAD4/4jmn_-0QL_M/s320/pabst-blue-ribbon-logo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604860639457553250" /></a><br />Or, actually, It works!<br /><br />A follow-up on the how-to-fix-a-flat-when-you-don't-have-anything-to-fix-a-flat-with stuff: Not only did the knot in the tube get me home the day before yesterday, but, two days later and no air added, it still has enough air to ride. This knot-in-the-leaky-tube thing is too cool to be true.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-7480940809279813702011-05-07T16:43:00.000-07:002011-05-07T17:16:26.722-07:00Stranded's (Not Very) Big Ride, or How To Fix a Flat When You Don't Have Anything To Fix a Flat WithI went out early this morning, about 9:00 (which is early for me, on a Saturday, anyway; normally at that time I'm still trying to figure out whose underwear I have on, if I happen to have any on. But that's a story for another time.) I aspired to another 50-miler, but after 20 miles or so, I had a flat. The back one, of course. No problem--like any well-prepared cyclist, I put in a new tube, after having checked the tire for whatever may have caused the puncture. I found nothing and assumed that whatever caused the puncture had come and gone. An erroneous conclusion, it turned out.<br /><br />Five miles or so later, again came the sickening feeling of a mushy back tire. I pumped the tire up, went a quarter of a mile, pumped the tire up again, went another quarter of a mile, and realized all hope that the problem was a loose valve or some such easily fixed problem was in vain.<br /><br />I didn't have another tube. I didn't have any patches. I didn't even have any of that disgusting slime stuff that never works, and anyhow, how do you get it into a Presta valve? Did I just claim I was a well-prepared cyclist?<br /><br />The options didn't look attractive. Call for help? Unthinkable! Stuff the tire with grass? That's gotta take forever, and be a mushy ride into the bargain. Ride flat and ruin my tire, not to mention the wheel? No.<br /><br />Once upon a time, I read an article in Bicycling magazine that said a last resort is to cut the tube in two at the site of the leak, tie a knot in both ends, air it up, and ride. At the time, it sounded kinda bogus--I mean, come on, a knot? How much air can that hold? And of course, I had no knife, but I did find the sliver of gravel that caused the leak by doing what I should have done the first time: I aired up the tube sans tire, spotted the leak, and knew exactly where to look in the tire. Sure enough, an almost microscopic bit of limestone, ready to ruin tubes I didn't have all day.<br /><br />So I tied a very tight knot in the intact tube, with the leaky spot outside the loop, aired it up, and rode. Amazingly enough, it worked. A bit of a bumpy ride when the knot came round, but it sure beat the alternatives. I made it home, and managed to get 35 miles in. Not a bad ride.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-48926238723664947072011-03-29T13:17:00.000-07:002011-03-29T13:22:59.663-07:0050!, Part II<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t2k10bKRIig/TZI_cVsC8kI/AAAAAAAAADw/1jqd2kizab4/s1600/bike%2Bcomputer%2B50%2Bmiles.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t2k10bKRIig/TZI_cVsC8kI/AAAAAAAAADw/1jqd2kizab4/s320/bike%2Bcomputer%2B50%2Bmiles.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589599843610980930" /></a><br />Single-speed mountain bike, but on the highways (the proverbial roads less traveled near Mammoth Cave, Kentucky). Many hills. The picture says, if not a thousand words, at least fifty miles worth of words (however many that might be).Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-47775739511013586272011-03-28T14:13:00.000-07:002011-03-28T14:32:30.717-07:0050!Frozen thumbs. That's why I'm not a pro rider: at the first sign of thumb freeze, I head for home, where I can put the extreme lack of warmth in my hands to good use by wrapping them around a couple of bottles of Guinness. Oh, well, to the victors go the spoils; to the rest of us, beer.<br /><br />However, inspired by the True Grit 50 in St. George, Utah, (http://www.mtbracenews.com/view_article.jsp?id=274), I'm planning to oil the chain on my Fuji 29er tomorrow, air up the tires, and see how close to the big five-oh I can get. I've done a couple of 30-35 mile rides on my single speed so far this spring, but there's a vicious little hill that I don't really want to tackle again without gears. The Fuji has three in front and nine in back, and does a blazing four miles an hour on the lowest gear combination. Meanwhile, for inspiration, some bits from MTB Racing News (URL above): <br /><br />"Even the mud could not prevent Cannondale rider Alex Grant from throwing down an impressive race. Veteran of countless endurance races, Grant has proven himself in the never-ending rain and slop of La Ruta as well as the crippling cold of Leadville.<br /><br />[Alex] Grant used his profound technical riding skills to establish an early lead in the jaded-rocks and demanding descents of the Zen trail then used his experience and determination to carry on in the demanding conditions.<br /><br />Grant finished the slightly shortened course in just over 4 hours. By then things had gotten so bad that officials had to shut the course down. Only 11 riders were able to finish before the course closure.<br /><br />After the race Grant said, "It was pretty bad. I was so cold by the end that I had to walk the final climb even though it's a road. I had to use the palm of my hand to push the shift levers. Both my thumbs were frozen and didn't work anymore."<br /><br />Grant was followed by Chris Holley (Trek 29er)."<br /><br />Fifty miles, just over four hours. That's almost 12.5 m.p.h. Not bad for pushing a heavy mountain bike through unholy weather.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-71812276919654916212011-03-26T13:33:00.000-07:002011-03-26T13:36:14.908-07:00Flax !?This just in! Schwinn announces frame made of flax (mostly). No need to carry food on long rides. Just eat the bike.<br />http://www.bikerumor.com/2011/03/09/schwinn-vestige-flax-fiber-bicycle-that-lights-up-at-night-plus-ride-review/Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-36441418666477195112011-03-11T05:33:00.000-08:002011-03-11T05:42:48.233-08:00Of bikes and poniesRandom question: why do the people who will correct you if you call your bike seat a seat, not a saddle, nevertheless refer to the part of the bike the seat stem fits into as the seat post? Shouldn't they call it the saddle post? and the saddle stem? Or perhaps "saddle post" sounds too much like something a Pony Express rider had to clean and feed before he went to bed. As everyone knows, bikes are not ponies. Or if you doubt it, you can take my word for it. I had a pony when I was a kid, and I can tell you it's much harder to change a flat on a pony than on a bike. Ponies don't come with quick releases. Not unless you're feeding them the wrong thing.<br /><br />If you sit on it, it's a seat. One syllable, like one speed, is usually enough.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-67945660533284148612011-01-25T07:35:00.000-08:002011-01-25T08:05:25.286-08:00The geriatric chicken, or why I hate cars (but drive one anyway)Yesterday, I started to rescue a geriatric chicken. Why the chicken needs rescuing is a whole other story. Suffice it to say, she’s too old to lay eggs, and yes, I’m one of THOSE types who don’t like to see animals suffer, not even geriatric chickens. Who knows, in my next life I might be a chicken; so I went in my car to fetch her. Along the way, I stopped to look at a used truck for sale, since, while I have no problem with geriatric trucks suffering, I thought one might be useful for hauling my bikes around in—which is one reason I hate cars (and trucks): if there were fewer of them to contend with, I could ride my bike instead of hauling it to more places without fear of mortal danger. However, as the saying goes, if you can’t beat ‘em. . . .<br /><br />Anyway, my car refused to budge after I determined the truck was too geriatric for even my taste. Fortunately, a nearby auto mechanic was ready to render assistance, or some semblance thereof. Precisely, he managed to remove the faulty starter motor yesterday, but has yet to install a new one, to my knowledge. After hitching a ride home, I discovered to my dismay that I had left the keys in the car, including the keys to the garage where the bike I would prefer to ride back to the mechanic is stored. This assumes, of course, that I should be so fortunate as to receive a phone call to the effect that my car is repaired. Like any good bike nut, I have several other bikes, but my good floor pump is in the trunk of the car in question, stored there, ironically, to keep me from not having it whensoever I might need it. So I jimmied the door to the storage shed with an expired credit card, where yet another cache of bikes is stored, and one of them appears to have enough air in the tires to get me where (I hope) I’m going.<br /><br />Which brings me to the other reason I hate cars: for the cost of one year’s insurance payment on the car (not to mention gas, oil, tires, and starter motors), I can buy two or three bikes of ordinary vintage that will get me where I need to go. Repairs can, if I am sufficiently motivated, be effected at home, or obviated by buying another bike of ordinary vintage. Damn’ you, Henry Ford!Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-49716528730476464342011-01-16T15:04:00.000-08:002011-03-26T13:40:10.706-07:00Why I love cycling computersAs Bike Snob often points out, most of us use our cycling computers to keep track of information that catalogs our mediocrity and has less relevance to the ultimate meaning of life than the pulsations of the supernova remnant at the heart of the Crab Nebula. Okay, I made that last bit up: as far as I know, Snob has never mentioned the Crab Nebula, which is what astronomers fear they will come to resemble if they visit Las Vegas and frequent an unlicensed brothel. However, as cycling is for me an activity done largely to justify my existence to myself, to unstrand my dopamine receptors, and to burn the calories contained in my daily indulgence of Twinkies washed down by unholy quantities of Guinness, the numbers that rack up on my computer have a direct bearing on how much pleasure I can find in the ultimate meaninglessness of life.<br /><br />Then too, there’s the fact that I hate math. It would be possible, as Tim Krabbe points out in The Rider, to calculate the distance one rides by keeping track of the numbers of cranks and rotations of the wheels and then working some arcane math problems that in the Middle Ages would have exponentially increased one’s risk of being burned at the stake for witchcraft. Actually, in the Middle Ages, the math might have been impossible, as Newton and Leibniz had yet to invent calculus. However, disregarding anachronism, it turns out that my feelings about math are neatly summarized by a character in Don DeLillo’s Ratner’s Star:<br /><br />“‘So you do mathematics?”<br />“‘I’m the one.”<br />“‘The very word strikes fear into my heart,” Evinrude said.<br />“‘Mathematics?”<br />“‘It goes back to early schooling. The muffled terror of those gray mornings getting out of bed and going to school and opening up a mathematics textbook with its strange language and letters for numbers and theorems to memorize . . . math struck terror. Everything about it. The sound of the words. The diagrams and formulas. The look of the book. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that humans actually do mathematics, considering what’s involved. It’s like a branch of learning in outer space.’”<br /><br />So there you have it. If for no other reason, humankind’s ventures into outer space before many of us were born were worthwhile just for the simple reason that they encouraged advances in miniature electronics that led to powerful microcomputers that can be manufactured at ridiculously low cost in China and shipped to this country and mounted on my bike handlebars to tell me how many bottles of “Irish” beer manufactured in Canada I can consume and still fit into my cycling shorts. Three cheers for the military-industrial complex!Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-252863891516272682010-12-25T09:04:00.001-08:002010-12-25T09:06:31.665-08:00"Only God can judge . . . ."Only God can judge him:<br />http://www.cyclingnews.com/blogs/filippo-pozzato-1/only-god-can-judge-me<br />Turns out, God doesn't really give a s**t.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-84006057746724645002010-12-25T08:25:00.000-08:002010-12-25T08:28:31.600-08:00The comforting beat of bambooMaybe I've been reading too much Bike Snob, but I saw something today that made me cringe. Yehuda Moon’s sponsor, ClankWorks, is the purveyor of bamboo bicycle fenders (that is, fenders made of bamboo and intended to be attached to bicycles, not necessarily fenders for bamboo bicycles, though I'm sure they could be attached to such a bike as well as one made of steel or recycled underpants). Now, in and of itself, the bamboo fender has a sort of appeal, I admit, so I investigated further, despite my misgivings caused by the name of the site: clanking is not a sound you really want to associate with any part of your bike, after all, and the bamboo fender, even if poorly mounted, would likely produce not a clank but more of a gentle thud or thump akin to native girls beating wooden drums during the halftime show at the Aloha Bowl. Unless the fender comes loose entirely. Then you might hear some clanking as it destroys your Campagnolo derailleur.<br /><br />Upon further investigation, however, I discovered that ClankWorks is a self-described “small cycling boutique” that provides “stylish solutions for the modern and design conscious cyclist.” Well, I suppose I am too old-fashioned and design unconscious to know for sure, but I have always though of boutiques as places that sell perfume and very expensive dresses and shoes that are intended to be uncomfortable. In other words, the antithesis of all things cycling-related. Best of all, however, the physical location of the “boutique” is Pittsburgh, PA. Again, when I think of Pitt, I think Big Ben, Terrible Towels, the ghost of Terry Bradshaw’s hair, and rusting steel mills. What I never thought of, at least not until now, was bamboo. Perhaps the “boutique” should sell cycling cleats made of bamboo, to clip into bamboo pedals. That arrangement could easily be made as uncomfortable as the shoes traditionally sold in boutiques.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-80982724276014363702010-12-16T12:23:00.000-08:002010-12-16T12:26:56.743-08:00Contest!Logic suggests I should keep this info to myself, thus reducing the field of competition by thousands and thereby increasing my chances of winning. Oh, well: Cycling News is giving away David Millar's bike. Presumably they have David Millar's permission to do this.<br />http://www.cyclingnews.com/news/now-online-the-2010-cyclingnews-reader-pollStrandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-24232546850118960192010-12-12T12:10:00.001-08:002010-12-12T12:33:21.879-08:00Bikes in the snow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/TQUtE5YDthI/AAAAAAAAADc/8zfQio1D9c0/s1600/SIngle-speed1.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/TQUtE5YDthI/AAAAAAAAADc/8zfQio1D9c0/s320/SIngle-speed1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549891677948458514" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/TQUsqXeP7GI/AAAAAAAAADU/hYPJVCV-t6E/s1600/bikes%2Bon%2Bmayne%2Bevent.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/TQUsqXeP7GI/AAAAAAAAADU/hYPJVCV-t6E/s320/bikes%2Bon%2Bmayne%2Bevent.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549891222171020386" /></a><br /><br />The snow near Mammoth Cave, Kentucky, prevented me from doing anything more strenuous than taking a picture of my single-speed 29er this morning. Not being sure I would like riding a single-speed very much, I went for an inexpensive Stout/Southeast from the Jenson website. Or rather, I<br /><br />knew I would like it, but I didn't know how well I would fare on it here in ridge country. Much to my surprise, it's not that much harder to just stand up and power on up the hills. So now I'm thinking it might be fun to get hold of a single-speed (non-fixie) road bike.<br /><br />The only changes I've made to the bike are to add a computer and a bottle cage and replace the original saddle post, which did not adjust up quite far enough for me, with a Truvativ. The saddle itself is a WTB knock-off, but it's just as comfortable as the WTB on my Fuji, so no point in changing it.<br /><br />If only I were as tough as Kenny Mayne, I wouldn't let a little snow stop me. Mayne was featured on ESPN's NFL pre-game show this morning, riding a really cool cruiser bike and wearing a football helmet. Move over, Alberto. You got yourself some competition.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-79860481709395162152010-11-26T19:46:00.000-08:002010-11-26T19:48:12.455-08:00Also just 'cause I like it:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/TPB_XQTF1QI/AAAAAAAAADM/li5fPqlGilo/s1600/bike-wine-787760.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/TPB_XQTF1QI/AAAAAAAAADM/li5fPqlGilo/s320/bike-wine-787760.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544071178781840642" /></a><br />http://www.sushibandit.com/uploaded_images/wine-787760.jpg:Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-74931996702409692472010-11-26T19:17:00.001-08:002010-11-26T19:21:48.153-08:00Just 'cause I like it:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/TPB4jQm9fLI/AAAAAAAAADE/LevGNZTrvB0/s1600/cycles-gladiator-1905.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/TPB4jQm9fLI/AAAAAAAAADE/LevGNZTrvB0/s320/cycles-gladiator-1905.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544063688442215602" /></a>Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-80498457656632760742010-11-24T10:08:00.001-08:002010-11-24T10:12:10.492-08:00The contestI hear Bicycling Mag is having a contest for best amateur bike mechanic. Since Bicycling Mag became a shill for Floyd Landis, Specialized, and the other companies that sell overpriced stuff most of us don't need, and since Bike Snob's column was the only thing worth reading in the whole mag (unless they do a nude centerfold of the Fit Chick, which technically would involve less reading and more . . . well, you know), I don't subscribe to the mag. But I would offer this advice: a contest for the WORST mechanic who nevertheless manages to keep upright and rolling would be much more interesting. Just how many miles can you ride on a worn-out chain? How many more times can you patch a tube whose surface area already has a ratio of tube-to-patch that has definitely shifted toward the patch end of the scale? Does duct tape have any useful application in the repair of brakes for fixies or other inherently unsafe two-wheeled conveyances? The answers to all these questions would be much more interesting than awarding a prize to someone who's figured out that WD40 and lemon Pledge do wonders for a bicycle chain, or at least give it that fresh citrus scent that all the girls just love.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-76696484446000407132010-10-10T20:43:00.000-07:002010-10-10T21:03:13.049-07:00One speed and countingI plan to eventually post some pictures of my single-speed 29er. Meanwhile, some random reflections on riding a single speed, which I have not done since I was several decades younger than I am now.<br /><br />First, having only one gear doesn't slow me down as much as I thought it would. Today I rode 17 miles at an average of 13.3 mph. Not Tour de France record speed, but faster than I would have expected. I think I actually come up hills faster, since there's no choice but to stand up and push ahead. On a slight up-hill stretch, I spun out to 23.4 mph. Again, not a record, but not bad for the rough equivalent of 3rd gear on a road bike.<br /><br />Second, it is in fact fun to not have to worry about being in the right gear. Yes, you can ride a multi-speed and leave it in one gear, but the thought of shifting would always be in the back of the mind. What's the point of multiple ratios if you don't use them?<br /><br />Riding single-speed seems to have the potential to make one a stronger rider. Hills I stood up on the first few rides no longer call for leaving the saddle.<br /><br />It seems to make climbing easier if the hands are spread wide, near the very ends of the handlebars.<br /><br />Maintenance promises to be simpler--no derailleurs to adjust, no gear cluster to scrub.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-47556633482025370302010-09-29T10:13:00.000-07:002010-09-29T10:22:51.152-07:00Ride the divideI watched the Ride the Divide documentary last night. Aside from the wistful acoustic guitar music and sentimental lyrics that grace the soundtrack, the movie was intriguing. (More about it here: http://blog.adventurecycling.org/2010/03/ride-divide.html) It does convey a sense of what three weeks on a mountain bike could be like--a clear enough sense that I won't be tempted to do it any time soon. At least not as a race-participant. And I noticed that none of the racers were on single-speeds--for good reason, as the race apparently puts the mountain back in mountain bike, should it be in danger of escaping. I, however, have recently become enamoured of my newly-purchased single-speed 29er. You know what they say--once you go 29er, you never go back. At least not until you have really big hills to climb on sore, over 40-year-old knees.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-78080678610694751022010-08-23T15:37:00.000-07:002010-08-23T16:08:01.132-07:00One thousand miles and counting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/THL-R7vZOpI/AAAAAAAAAC0/TczHC_j5HEk/s1600/bike--tandem.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 298px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BGBnq85i6rw/THL-R7vZOpI/AAAAAAAAAC0/TczHC_j5HEk/s320/bike--tandem.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508744878275246738" /></a><br /><br /><br />When I started this blog, I intended not to do the boring kind of I-went-for-a-ride-and-it-was-fun kind of post. If you're reading this blog, you probably know it was fun because you ride. Anyhow, I did pass the thousand mile mark for this summer this past Saturday. A milestone worth noting, if only to reveal how little else I've done this summer that would impress anyone but bike bums. Which brings me to my point (indulge me in the fantasy that I actually have one): riding is something one does mainly for oneself--or is it?<br /><br />I recently went on a group ride with a bunch of people I didn't know. I started out with the 32-mile route group, toward the back, where people were poking along at 8.5 miles an hour (11.0 downhill). So I moved up to the 12-mile-an-hour sub-group. Way out in front were three guys blazing along at 13.5 m.p.h. Interestingly, one of these was outfitted like Lance, from his Radio Shack jersey down to the Trek Madone. I figured these have to be the guys to keep up with, right? But no, they still piddled along. <br /><br />So I followed a while, and then so as not to be a wheelsucker I took my turn in front of the Lance look-alike trio. To be brief, within a couple of miles I got tired of using lower gears just to not leave them behind, and I went ahead. I know, the group ride is not a race; it's as much a social occasion for many people, it seems. But hell, I came to ride, not to hold a bull session.<br /><br />Unless, of course, any of your fellow riders looks like either of the ones above. Then, even a curmudgeon such as me might be tempted to socialize.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4992754176934275303.post-69783855432393329482010-07-28T07:04:00.000-07:002010-07-28T07:44:22.794-07:00A roundup of bike-related blogs with recent updates:<br /><br />From BikeRadar:<br />"According to the International Mountain Bicycling Association (IMBA), a proposed National Park Service (NPS) regulation change will benefit Americans by improving mountain biking experiences in national parks. The new policy would empower park superintendents to manage trails for bicycles, without sacrificing environmental review or public comment opportunities."<br /><br />BikeSnob is on vacation.<br /><br />Recumbent Conspiracy Theorist reports on the Clear Fork Loop ride.<br /><br />Fat Cyclist has a humorous take on carbon fiber. Read it even if you think you know more about carbon than your high school chemistry teacher.<br /><br />Just the Messenger at Rules of the Amateur UnPro Cyclist reflects on mountain bikers tendency to crash really expensive bikes into trees.Strandedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06731098418004249066noreply@blogger.com0