She spoke of convenience

Haven’t ridden to work much, lately. Nothing but crap crap crappy excuses, really. Just four rides since November 1 (out of a possible twelve). Meh. Sick, and recovering, and lazy, and blah blah blah bl

And then last Friday, I hit a milestone. I encountered my first ever mechanical problem with the ol’ two-wheeled transport.

I was powering up my side of Alabama, zipping along, when I heard a little pop-clank-snap type sound, and a rattle. It sort of sounded like something had fallen off my bike, but I couldn’t see anything in particular. It was dark, however. I thought maybe my tire picked something up and rattled it through my fender, which happens sometimes. Whatever it was, I was still rolling up the hill, so I went ahead and rolled down.

At the bottom I noticed my computer wasn’t reading my speed. I figured maybe my sensor had fallen off, which annoyed me, since that meant it was sitting in the road somewhere at the top of the hill. I pulled off to check things out.

Sensor still attached? Check.

Little magnet thingie still on spoke? Check.

Spin wheel to see what’s up? Check, and computer still doesn’t work.

Which was about when I grabbed the magnet thingie to take a closer look, and found its spoke flopping free.

Busted a spoke.

Broken spokes are somewhat common problems for touring riders. Spokes keep wheels true, and a bike’s load (driver and cargo) is distributed among those spokes. Poorly built wheels will bust spokes frequently. Too heavy of loads can also cause problems.

I’ve been riding this bike for 4500 some miles, maybe 750 of it fully loaded, probably 3500 of it with at least some load, and just a little with no load at all. I feel like my wheels must be pretty good. I feel like my whole bike is pretty damn solid, since this is the first problem I’ve had while riding, ever.

So I busted a spoke. I have a truing stand. I have spare spokes. But I haven’t fixed it yet. I’m not sure if I should fix it myself or take it to the shop. And while I’ve sitting around not fixing it, I’ve conveniently avoided sub-20 degree temperatures in the mornings, and sub-30s in the afternoon. Coincidence, sure. Convenience, absolutely.

I will return to the road. Soon. I think hope.

Weather wields white what? Whoa.

A quicker little update for you. I spent the last week destroying the earth. Last Friday I took The Wife and the Corbchops to the airport, early, and did not ride. On Monday, for a variety of insufficient reasons, I did not ride. Tuesday, when the family was still gone, so no daycare logistics to mull over, I did not ride. Three days that should have been car-free were carful instead. Blah. Such a failure.

So today I ride, and the earth gets back at me. I made it to school fine. Better than fine, actually, as a dandy tailwind shot me there in near record time.

And on the way home, well, damn. It started to hail as I turned onto the main road. Big, I dunno, jelly bean sized pieces? They clanged off my rack and clacked off my helmet. And stung my ears. I eventually pulled over under an overhanging tree, to put my hat on over my ears and wait for it to let up a little. Our hailstorms never seem to last long.

But this one wasn’t stopping. Or I was just riding under it as it traveled south. I ventured onward.

Now I was feeling constant stings as hail pellets hit my thighs, and the occasional stone that found the vents of my helmet.

That’s when the thunder and lightning started.

OK, there wasn’t much of that. But there was a little.

The road was covered in white. I hugged the outside of the shoulder the whole way, though cars were moving slower than normal, so in some ways the big road was nicer than usual.

I called The Wife to confirm my survival when I reached the trail that would take me the rest of the way home.

While slightly painful, there was nothing about today’s weather that made it any worse than riding in the dark and rain. Actually, since the cars were moving slower, in some ways it was nicer. Of course, the hailstones were only jelly bean sized, and I didn’t get hit by lightning. That would have tipped the scales, slightly.

My First Politic©

We’ve been hearing, this week, about the twentieth anniversary of the Berlin Wall coming down.

In my mind, I have a memory of a political event. It is one of two things: Either the fall of the Berlin Wall; or the Soviet coup attempt. If it is the former, I was ten. For the later, I was almost twelve. Now, as I’m writing, I think it was the coup. But the Wall fall anniversary is what reminded me of it, so I’m going to write this now, instead of in two years.

Here is what I remember:

I was at my friend’s house, in the car, about to go home. My friend’s mom was in the car, about to leave. On the radio they announced the event [Berlin Wall/coup]. At which point my friend’s mom, jumped out of the car and ran in to tell her husband.

I don’t think I really understood the significance of either event. But the fact that it couldn’t wait until my friend’s mom returned home, ten minutes later, made it different than other “news.” It was important. It was something that couldn’t wait.

This is the first memory I have of a political event that caused a significant reaction from a close adult. I think that is the foundation for its relevance in my childhood memory. Politics exist all around us. Who knows what makes us remember this rather than that, or the other. The only other political memories previous to it that I can think of are seeing Oliver North on TV, asking my dad who it was (I think because he had a military uniform on), getting an answer, and not really knowing or understanding anything about it until much, much later; hearing about “Star Wars,” (I don’t know the year); and my dad voting for Jesse Jackson in 1988. These were just passing moment, however. They do not carry any meaning or importance in my memory. Because of my friend’s mom’s reaction to that news on the radio, that event was different.

So I wonder what will be/is my students’ first political memory? They are too young to remember September 11. We read Time for Kids. They hear about things, as I did. Maybe more. What will be the thing they first remember? It is highly likely that it could be the election of Obama. They would have been eight or nine at the time (already a year ago, you know). I wonder if the reactions of the adults in their lives, positive or negative, may have resulted in the searing of that event’s importance into their memories.

And what will be the next thing they remember?

And what will the Corbchops’ first be?

And will they think back on it, twenty years from now?

Green pumpkins

We planted pie pumpkins this year. The yield is seven ripe, ten green. What, oh what, to do?

It shall be noted that I had to carve all of these myself. And I did so, happily, and with surprising pace.