Large Fella on a Bike

For those about to explode...

we salute you.

Just two nights ago, after returning from a rather splendid late-night ride w/many stars, cars and folks in bars, I came back to my humble abode, parked my 2-wheeled friend, kissed my wife & daughter and set about having a Dogfish Head 90-Minute IPA [which would have to be, in my earnest estimate, one of life's truly great pleasures].

All was well in my small slice of the universal pie.  Sipping beer, writing a piece that will soon be published in a rather large magazine, while hearing the dulcet tones of wife & daughter having a school lesson in the very next room.

That silence, quiet & sublime, was rocked like an assblast from the colon of Satan himself... with a sound that had to be slightly more pronounced than a full-bore .357 Magnum going off at extremely close range.

BAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Wow, what the hell was that??!!", I distinctly recall asking myself, while hearing Chloe start screaming at the top of her 7-year old lungs and Amy say, "OH, MY GOD!!"  I have zero recall of how I came to get in the living room, I assume it was something akin to levitation actually... I think I floated out there in 10th gear like a specter on crank, tach red-lining, in 101% fight-mode, ready to tackle wife & daughter both, while assuming that the Crips and Bloods had started a turf war in our foyer.  I was hard-rocked, cold-cocked, light, tight and ready to fight.  Total Marine Corps mode [never mind that I was never in the Marine Corps, but my dad was... does that count?].

As my senses, and hearing, started to come back into focus I noticed a blackish cloud floating in the living room.  Still surrounded by the banshee-like wailing of Chloe, who was sitting, fingers stuffed into tiny ears, tears streaming down her little red face, Amy said to me that there had been a soft, squirming sound followed by 30 seconds of silence before the thunder clap occurred.  I looked over at my bike: front end fine, eyes trailed to the other end of my steed, Schwalbe Snow Stud half on/half off.  Chunks of inner tube littered all about that area of the living room.

Hmmmm.  Odd.  I knew this scenario [once] in my younger, naive, inexperienced, early bicycling years-when I had foolishly mounted a very wide tire on a rather slim racing rim, and hoping against hope, the thing blew off in a matter seconds.  Lesson Learned.  Wide shit doesn't work on thin shit.  Easy Peasy, done... Next.

But what the hell happened here?  I mounted these tires 5 weeks ago... they mounted perfectly.  No problems whatsoever.  Other than my wipe out, nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened since then.  26" Sun Rhyno-Lite rims, Schwalbe Snow Studs in the 26 x 1.9 flavor, new inner tubes that measured 26" as well, and up to 2.00 width... this made no sense.

After calming Chloe down, I set about examining the evidence... without pulling everything apart that late at night, I couldn't find a thing.  I posted the event to the BOB-List.  Many opinions surfaced: ranging from outdoor temps to indoor temps... the fact that my last ride [earlier that evening] had been in wet weather, etc, etc, etc... but nothing really explained it.

The next day dawned and the truth was revealed.  Upon close inspection I could see an area of the bead, in exactly the place that the blow out happened, were the steel wires were exposed.  Just for the sake of absolute confirmation, I re-installed the tire in the complete opposite area of the rim with a new tube.  Didn't look good with 30 PSI.  Backed it down, applied a serious amount of pinch-pressure to that area and brought the tire back up to the recommended PSI of 65.  Looked odd still, but slightly better.  Installed the wheel, spun it, saw a bulge forming, called out to Amy & Chloe, "COVER YOUR EARS... SHE'S GONNA BLOW!!"... and before I could take my own advice:
BAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!  She went.  Walked around for an hour like a 25-year demolitions expert... stone deaf, head pounding, nice buzzing sound somewhere deep inside my cranium.

Okay, it's the bead... and it's defective.  Lesson Learned.  Confirmed with a couple different Bike Buddies who said as much.  It's going back to Schwalbe.

The small, but ugly, evidence:

and...

The front Snow Stud is performing great [fingers crossed, it stays that way too]... so now I'm studded up front and Schwalbe Marathon'd in the rear.

Here's hoping to an early Spring.

 

Illegal Moves...

Finally uploaded the pics from our covert sled-riding run.  Figures they would close the park [Liberty State Park~yeah, the one with that ornament, the Statue of Liberty] on the one day of moderate snow, and also the one day I had promised Chloe we would rock the snow together w/Mom.  Anyway, they closed it... and we opened it back up [click for large on pics]:

No pics please [told Chloe the Park Rangers were coming for her and she flew]...

Chloe gets her game on...

...and on

Mom gets ready to throw down.

She's from Michigan so she has cultivated a specific technique for sideways acceleration...

She wails on us both... for distance and speed.  :-|

Dad tries to win style points by riding it on two feet and goes down, hard. [ ~moron]

Mom owns the day but wants to go home-her toes are curiously purple/red.

Later.

In other news:

been riding a lot, much rain & cold, and wind... but it's good.

All Good.

Day Off [Again]

As an adjunct to yesterdays post I'd like to add [and mention] a few things:

1.  The real thrust of my bumming out wasn't all the normal nonsense that is 'Riding around this area' per se.  That, sadly, I've become accustomed to.  It was more this: that once I had some clear [or relatively clear] riding, the sinking, washy handling was a real bummer.  As one respondent mentioned [and quite accurately too] "...the slush/frozen mashed potatoes... " that was the real crux of my Jones Psyche Smeltdown.  I'd really like to know if folks reading this [all 3 of you ;-)] ride in that, and if so... how do/did you adapt to the slush-grabbing-the-front-tire, sink-down-mostly-then-have-lateral-washout-side-to-side reality of it? 

Between riding tons as a kid and teen, and then riding tons in the last year-and gaining a fairly large amount of skill/technique, this current issue leaves me quite literally, Stumped.  Hence... I cannot control moronic drivers, etc... but I do feel that the one thing I could have some modicum of skill/control over [the slushy taters], I could not~i.e. "Bummer".

2.  All that said, I didn't go out today because it's just more of the same and actually a little worse because all the brownish/blackish frozen shit sauce has frozen/thawed/frozen/thawed at least 4 times total since yesterday's ride.  It'd be no use except as an exercise in futility... and possible death by Hummer w/NY Yankee-capped driver.

3.  Last... Thank You to all the nice folks who replied yesterday: many and much wisdom was directed my way, and that: I appreciate lots.  Danke.

Perspiration vs. Inspiration...

My sordid doings of the last 3 days, and I ain't entirely happy either:

1.  Tuesday- so cold, so icy, so windy... and I had to go for a ride.  HAD TO.  Amy's suggestion, "Screw the mileage... just ride slow, enjoy it until you don't, and then get your ass back here in one piece".  Fair enough.
Traffic flying by like the Indy 500 but on slushy, slickery looking asphalt, gusts up to 50mph... I rode when I could, walked when I had to... made it to the Hudson River, circled back home.  Amy and Chloe were shocked I was back so quickly-but I heeded the Wifely Advice.  Like 2.97 miles worth of... depressingly sissified mileage.  But I arrived intact [if not mentally, physically].

2.  Wednesday- the day the weather hit.  Windy, cold, snowing, sleet... altogether.  Opted not to ride... but we did go sled riding illegally [the only decent hill around here is about 400 yards away from the Statue of Liberty and the park was closed due to weather conditions but we found an access road into the park and had a ball]... but still no ride for the Fat Boy.  Depressing, but seemed sensible.

3.  Today- sunny, colder than cold, crusty-icy dark brown and black snow, aggressive drivers.  Four lane streets plowed to 2 lanes, 2 lane streets plowed down to single lane streets.  Any courteous drivers who wouldn't pass me were immediately chastised by other aggressive drivers behind them with horns blaring at full tilt.   And then it came...

One guy went by me at 25mph on a single lane, one-way street w/cars parked on both sides... me avoiding slush and crusty ice by taking a mostly clear tire track on the right side of the single plowed lane, the guy in the car actually brushed my left thigh with his passenger-side mirror as he went by... scared the shit out of me, hit some slush that grabbed my front tire and started pulling me into the parked cars, pulled out of the inertia luckily.  Couldn't handle any more of it though after 4.87 miles, and walked me and my bruised psyche + bike home.

What gets me down isn't all the aggression from the self-entitled motorists or even Winter rearing its wintry head but this...

I try so hard everyday to bust my ass, to keep going, to push... and then push some more, and I love it too.  But when I can't find a flow to things, or even a path to ride on a street, an asphalt street in a city-an area this huge-that has a decent transition from street to corner or corner to sidewalk with all the crusty, icy snow gunk sitting there just waiting to disallow my front wheel from entering or seriously making my brain look at it from 10 feet away without thinking, "You go through that, Mr. Chubby, and you're going to spill over hard, brother"... it's downright depressing.

I even found an area that transitions from street to concrete barrier-blocked street, that I can always ride through, and when I came off the open street to it, the snow/ice/granular mix would support me and the bike for a nanosecond and then wash out with a split second of absolute fear & paranoia of lateral bike movement-not to mention dropping my speed so notably-that the only two options were pedaling out of the saddle [no way, with the way my front end was washing side to side] or dismounting, and admitting defeat.

I feel slightly depressed right now.  I feel flat.

The riding through the snow/ice thing and lateral wash/bailing out combo, the one damn part of today's ride that I could control, is really bothering me deeply.  Immensely actually.  I mean, for christsake, we're relocating to Minn. so what the hell am I going to do if that's an issue... it snows for half the year out there.

I need to call my Guru and get some advice... both of them actually:

Kent P. and Mr. BBC.

Chilly Ride...

Brisk ride yesterday [will be going out tonight in an effort to encounter some snow-fingers crossed]... with the temp. around 17 [and, sigh, wind chill at 2'ish].

Did something slightly different yesterday, well actually... two things differently:
1.  Rode during the day [think I'm becoming a serious Vampire... day rides are so bright, I really like seeing the world-or the world around here at least-by headlight & streetlight]...
2.  Took a camera [and decided to put 3 years of apprenticeship with a rather famous photographer to use].

So [click for full size]...

Peace...

The Opposable...

Digitus Impudicus:

Throughout my travels on two wheels I've taken to pondering a few things from time to time, and one of the most oft repeated topics in my gray matter would be the ubiquitous "Finger Gesture".  And no, this isn't one of those run of the mill, danger rager, gonna result in someone getting bloodied or shamed kinda diatribes... no, this is deep history and heavy thought happening right now, in real time.

There have been those that have taken to documenting the legal ramifications of sending out the One-Fingered Salute , and lord knows I've done my share of that too but today I want to examine the subtle differences & implications of, what I will now, throughout this treaty of sorts, refer to as, "Impudent Finger" [Digitus Impudicus].

First I'd like to mention that if one were to ponder the classic "Peace Sign" used by Hippies,

Politicians

and even Megalomaniacs:

...one could deduce that it's all about being a "V" for "Victory", or at least a Victory for the fight toward "Peace".  But was/is it really?  Did they all really want Peace??  Perhaps, a Piece?

Moving forward...

If the Impudent Finger is removed from the equation we move into the realm of a favorite American Pastime: being "#1"  Exemplified below with:

Used lots by parents and/or adults that want [or maybe don't think much about... ] their offspring to be The Best at whatever pursuit they so choose in life... i.e. Sports, Acting like Rock Stars, Sports and lastly, Acting like Rock Stars and Sports.  Or, making sure they are better than [or at least feel] better than someone else, preferably someone else they know-so they can smear the beautiful scent of freshly sown shit in their faces.  That's not only important, but very American.

Now if we reverse that winning index finger, pair it back with its Hipee'fied cousin-The Impudent Finger, and then bid farewell to the #1 finger all over again, we are left with a further evolutionary refinement of Human Existence...

The Opposable Middle Finger, The Grand Dame-Impudent Finger, the Big Chief: "Digitus Impudicus".  Yes, yes, yes... ALL hail it.  Kneel before It.  Surrender to the glory of which it is, what it stands for... it's ageless and timeless beauty.
It reigns supreme in its clarity and unique ability to allow the mouth of Man to remain silent while yet saying so much more.
Examples first by the Common Man:

Woman...

Child [note~sporting event]-

and even infant:

Hell, seems like everyone is doing it!!  And why not... it's succinct, easy and cuts through the mundane, confusing onslaught of talking or explaining oneself.

Even some of our brightest and best have jumped into the fray...
The Man in Black:

this guy [not sure why he's dressed so curiously odd],

and the president of some country called Murka-

Yes, by all means, get outside and embrace your right to express, even explore, your Opposable Digitus Impudicus.

Next time you're asked, "How many cups of tea did you want again, was that two?"...

reply in a new & refreshing manner: "No, just one please"

" ...but you could top off mine while you're at it too?"

Ride On, Ride Often...

Give the wife some...

...I thought I would throw some spotlight on and props at the Mrs. LFoaB [Large Fella on a Bike]-my soul mate, my wife, Amy.

To say that she has been walking down various and, in particular, this current road with me would be an infinitely vast understatement... she's my wife, my absolute best friend, and one amazing inspiration for me.

When I began all of this in November of 2005 by mentioning what I intended to do, her response was simple yet strong, "Sounds good, count me in too".  And that was that.  She never wavered one bit.

Knowing that some women-folk don't care for their stats to be outed, I asked her if I could and she shrugged her head Yes and added, "Hey, if it had gone up, I'd have a serious problem with you posting about me... but that's not the case".  So here we go...

Amy is 5' 4" and started out, in November of 2005, at 209 pounds [much of which was put on during, and after the birth of our daughter, Chloe].  It was a lot of Love for such a smallish frame, and she felt really crappy about it too.  Where I simply maxed out with what huge clothes were available, she intentionally bought things for herself 2 sizes too big, to hide 'the shame of it all' [as she would often say].

Even though she was very busy with her profession [RN working ICU in a trauma center] she felt out of control and just continued to swell and not really give much of a shit on a day to day basis.  Her energy level dwindled as consistently as her size increased.  She would often say that she was falling into such a deep hole, that digging out of it felt too enormous of a task... I certainly could, and did, understand that too.

Also, and alarmingly, she has a family history of quite high cholesterol.  As a nurse, she can draw her own blood and run full workups similar to a wrench at your LBS having free use of shop tools and assorted perks, discounts and freebies.  Before Chloe was born, Amy's cholesterol was around 220... as she got bigger, it grew too.  In October of 2005 she ran a full mock-up on herself one night at work and was very worried [as was I the following day when she told me] to find the blood draw at 242 [and that was after fasting for 12 hours prior to the draw].

She just ran a new blood draw on herself yesterday and her cholesterol was at 152, and that was just mere minutes after eating [which drastically alters such tests to shoot upward].  Her co-workers were stunned, and besides seeing her transformation since November of 2005, are really hounding her for tips, secrets, etc on how she/we did, and are doing this [of course there are no secrets-just wanting to change and following through].  Amy and me... we are hugely stunned-as well as ecstatic with the blood test results!

Here she is in October 2005:

and...

Gorgeous and lovely... but, deeply unhappy, underneath that amazing smile.

Here she is yesterday, February 6th, 2007:

and...

Gorgeous and lovely... but, deeply happy & healthy too.  Her last weigh-in came in at 154 pounds, totaling a weight loss of 55 pounds.

Got my bike done last night and went for a ride in the bitter cold while Chloe and Amy went shopping... never noticed the cold nor wind, no sounds from the bike except Good Ones [chain hum, Snow Studs blurring across and over asphalt, traffic flying by].

And you know what, it felt better than great.  All this is a Gift: Life, my Wife & Daughter, Friends, Bicycles...

To Life, and Wives, and Pushing Hard, and most of all, The Human Spirit.

...Blessings, All.

Day Off...

...for regrouping.

Besides the onion-shattering cold [not to mention wind chill... by the way, I was thinking [rare], it seems the actual temperature means less and less in our modern times, and it seems to me that folks are far more bent, not on the actual temp, but the wind chill in Wintry times and the heat index in Summery moments... why is that, is not the actual temperature enough or good enough for the Common Man any longer?], I've decided after some very good advice from friends, my wife and my good buddy Bob Brown, to chill out, relax away from the days ride... and spend some time with my bike and the almighty wrench.

I agree with all of them too, but also too bad as this is the one day, besides X-mas Eve, when city riding would be nearly perfect-owing in large part to all the good Americans not driving around, but instead sitting on their asses, in front of their Hi-Def, 198inch, Plasma-Chroma-Luxer TVs, consuming vast quantities of dead chicken limbs swimming in buttery red pepper sauce, all rinsed down with great, high quality beers like Old Milwaukee and Old Style while watching millionaires in Robo-Cop costumes grope one another in an effort to be The Best.

Damn it... oh well, I have a nice Valentine's Day ride to look forward to.

So, I'm going to tear her apart and build her back up... and in all actuality, probably also rebuild my faith that all is well, not so much with my bike, but with my psyche.

I'm thinking it'll be a good time/excuse for a stem and handlebar swap anyway.  I'll try to attempt to get some snaps for tomorrows post [everyone loves those damn pics!!  "More PICS, More PICS!!", I can hear the cries already... ].

Happy Super Bowl to whoever was in it, and/or won it.  To be sure... You're The Best and your fans are probably The Best now too, and that's all that really matters. 

Can someone let me know if Janet Jackson's tit fell out again?

Fear of Sound...

**Originally Posted to the i-BOB List**

Well it happened, and the sordid details are HERE but it seems I am suffering not so much from injuries or even fear of riding but something entirely different and unexpected:

Fear Of Sound & Feel.

I cannot seem to shake the feeling that something, anything, must be wrong with my bike.  The fender that tore away [as it should have] has a rattle, and even though I cannot find the source of it-off the bike [which may be the ultimate clue right there] I apply the brakes/move the bike back n forth, to-n-fro, nada... I keep riding. 

I bounce the front end up and down... nope, everything seems and sounds solid as ever.  Yet when I ride, there's a rattle-particularly when riding one-handed for a moment or two of sitting up and getting a better view of something or taking in more O2.

Latest thing? 

I cannot stop thinking about my stem and handlebar.  Most of the crash impact was taken on the left side of the handlebar [again, outlined in my blog entry] so now I keep pulling up and down on the bars, in various locations, while riding.  It's like I'm trying to find something wrong, really wrong.  On today's ride, I dismounted 11 fucking times for no reason other than to push-n-pull, tug-n-shake things on my steed.  And then, just like someone who must find something wrong, I find this very tiny, maybe 1/16th inch long, seam or ridge or lip-but what I thought, at first, must be a crack in the area of my stem that takes the handlebar [north of the handlebar pinch bolt].  Total relief and freakout at once. 

Off the bike again... checked and checked it, what at first seemed to be a crack, really is more of indent/ridge.   The alum/chroming is smooth over it... but I never noticed it before, before my crash, so is it something more, something else?   Is it a deformation on the interior of the stem from the crash, and as is the case with aluminum, will it be fine until it simply isn't?   Maybe it has been there all along?

Not having ever exhibited signs or symptoms of OCD prior in my 43 years on Planet Earth, this isn't fun. No, I thought the hard part might be getting back on after a crash [when that day arrived, and it did arrive] but I never suspected that what would be difficult is having the knowledge base, or confidence/logic/rationale to know and accept if my ride is Fine or Not Fine.

Amy calls my suffering PTBSD... Post Traumatic Bike Stress Disorder.

:-|

I call it, Hell.

**EDIT** [I received this reply from a BOB List member, and it's deep... ]

It´s an experience, isn´t it?
To be practical: what I have done after a major is to take the bike down to the working bench in the cellar and take it apart.  Totaly.  Then inspect, clean and reinstall everything. This has two objects.

First: you´ll know that everything is allright and you´ll have a bike that´s in better shape than it ever has been (provided you don´t put back defective parts of course!). 
Second: It has some kind of teraupetic effect, you take care of your friend and the bond is restored and strengthened (this is psychologically true also with important objects).  It will also have a meditavive effect on you.

Regarding the stem: let some body in the know - like your esteemed bike builder - have a look.  If in doubt, change it.  It's a cost, but not a catastrophic one and will give you peace of mind. and keep that studded side down next time!

-Olof Stroh Uppsala Sweden

My reply to Olof...

Olof-
Absolutely fantastic post/reply.   Thank You, my friend. 

It is so, so, so true... and it is exactly what is missing since the crash.   I checked myself, my wife [an RN in ICU Trauma by trade] did as well... we took care of what needed taking care of, attending to... but, besides reattaching the fender and visually inspecting my trusty friend [my bike], I haven't shown as much attention to her as she not only needs and deserves, but I need to give her for my own peace of mind.

Thank You again...