Hercules, a Labour of Love

Every once in a while around here a bike shows up on my doorstep that makes me shudder. This was one of those bikes. When it arrived my initial reaction was to make the sign of the cross, chew some garlic, light some incense and run like hell. Something made me stay and take take a closer look. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was pity. This poor bike is a Hawthorne. Those of you old enough might remember this was the house brand at Monkey Wards. (If Monkey Wards doesn’t register ask an adult) My first new bike was a Hawthorne. Bronze with a leopard print banana seat. Way cool.

You can see from the first picture that this bike was not in the best of shape. The rear tire had started a rapid return to it’s molecular origins, it was dirty, rusty and things either failed to turn or turned without need or reason. There was a glimmer though, underneath the Hawthorne was the name Hercules, made in England. The down tube sports a little decal boasting “Genuine English Lightweight” This bike was abandoned to neglect by a caring owner who got old and passed on. The new owner brought it to me because I have the dubious reputation of being able to fix anything.

We did a little triage and divvied up the chores. This was to be a partial restoration. The bike would look better and be redeemable but not a museum piece. Here is where things started turning strange. The man who brought in the bike had a stroke. I was pretty sure I was going to have a few parts I didn’t need cluttering up the debris field I call a shop. Then his wife shows up and tells me his son wants to take over the project. This is number two son, in high school, a neat kid but hardly a mechanic and what do I know about kids anyway?  I’ll skip all of the heart warming Capraesque nonsense and get back to the bike. Willy did do a lot of work helping me clean up the bike. I got to know a little more about him and my faith in the future of mankind is at least partially restored. Willy and his friend helped me pick up the ball bearings that hit the floor and scattered. Much grime and dirt was wiped away. Rust was removed and everything made shipshape, more or less.

The Hercules looks good. Its a classy bike and Willy will be riding it this summer. It was not a lucrative job but I’m a softy when it comes to old bikes. Especially when it is going to be ridden. So old Herc has left the building but he won’t be soon forgotten.

Keep The Sunny Side Up

This should be a recounting of wonderful adventures in the Texas Hill Country. I really was going to regale you with stories of fast decends and heroic attacks. It truly was my plan but I don’t think it is going to work out that way. Honestly we just were not all that heroic. We rode well, we all had our moments, but it was hardly a spring classic. (Paris -Roubaix, Liege-Bastogne-Liege)

I could be wrong about this. I might have a grander definition of heroism than is needed. Sponge Bob rode like a champ. he broke his hip last October and has hardly been on the bike since. The Big Guy gave up all he had and then some on the Saturday ride. Hudler lacked a certain respect for cheerfulness but otherwise rode very well. Myself? Never too fast or too slow but I had a good time.

This was the first year that all of us have been able to ride together in years. Sponge and The Big Guy have been trading off injuries for four or five years now and Hudler just started going with us 3 years ago.  I have been blessed with good health and opportunity. Usually there is a litany of what rotten condition we are all in.  Most of it is lies. We are all in the best condition we can be in. This was also the first year we are all over fifty. None of us are retired or a paid athlete so training is hit and miss. Hudler commented to my wife that he seems to ride less and drink more beer. He is no longer allowed inside or within ear shot of  a spouse.

Hudler and I are a pretty good match. We both climb pretty good, he goes down hill a lot faster than I do but I’ve got a little better stamina. The Big Guy comes down hill faster that anyone and hardly even pedals. For perspective, I clocked 40 mph down hill and he was a lot closer to 60 mph. Sponge Bob is in between a rock and a hard place. He’s in better shape than the Big Guy but not quite as fit as Hudler and I. He comes down hill well and climbs well but ju

st hasn’t had time to get his fitness back.

The portrait you should be seeing now is four guys over fifty who really are not race ready but have reasonable expectations. Sponge and the Big Guy went on the shorter route Friday so they were in charge of finding beer and icing it down. The Jacuzzi was not just a luxury it was a necessity. The game plan was pretty much ride, soak, eat, sleep, eat, sleep and repeat. Beer was also involved but not nearly as much as you might be led to believe. (Do not listen to Hudler, or my wife who listened to him.)

So here we have a bunch of buddies, we even picked up a couple extra, who are not looking to set any records but just finish with out too much agony or embarrassment. Since speed is not so important I think good humor and chivalry should be our aim. Hudler is not so sure. Case in point, The Wall. The Wall is a little nuisance that is an 18% grade at the top. Last year I did the paperboy weave up it to conserve strength, this year I just followed Hudler. By the time we got to the last 1/4 of the climb most of the people were weaving or walking but Hudler and I were slogging it out like manly men. Politeness and cheerfulness are important so I said “Good Morning!”, “On your left!” and “Good job keep it up!” to everyone we passed. Hudler for some reason was mumbling something unintelligible. We will have to work on his enunciation. 

The next day we all decided to stick together because the weather looked bad. Shortly after Camp Verde a guy on a blue bike passed us in his big gear. He did not say “Good Morning”, “On your left” or even “Out of my way lard ass”. He just rode by us in silence, completely rude. He did not get very far in front of us and we started closing the gap. I started whistling a pleasant cheerful tune so he would know we were behind him. Sneaking up would be rude, would it not? We had to pass him So I said, “Good Morning, on your left, grab a wheel!” It is not easy being so nice but I work hard at it. He went to the back, rested a while and came around us again. No word of thanks or anything. We kept him in sight for quite some time. I thought he might be mute but there were some loud guttural noises when he missed a turn. We caught back up and Hudler told me to go ahead, he’d bring the others up. I got to with in a bike length of Mr. Rudeness and thought maybe he needed some cheering up. He did not look happy and was working real hard so I decided to serenade him. I stayed right behind him for a couple of miles doing my best to whistle a show tune. (If I Only Had A Brain) I know I can’t carry a tune in a bucket but he didn’t have to just run off like that. He wasn’t looking real good on Bandera Pass. He either had bad gas or was trying to cough up a lung. It was a little later in the day so I did not say “Good Morning” as I passed him with Hudler and Sponge Bob in tow, I said “Good Afternoon”

We may not be heroes but we are polite.

Miles and Miles of Texas

Given the fact that I read a lot and have a fairly large vocabulary you would think the English language would be pretty much in the realm of my understanding. My mother did not raise a fool and I am not adopted so why did I not know better than to say yes When one of my best bike buddies suggested we go on a “death march” ? I could have said no way in hell but no, I said sure why not.

Mr. Hudler (from here on out known as Hudler) thought it would be a good idea to get in some hill training. There are no hills worth commenting on here in way too far south Texas so we planned a road trip. A little under two hours of driving put us in Freer, Texas. Seeing as Hudler does not drink coffee and is not a morning person, there was an element of risk in leaving at 4:30 AM. Freer is west of Alice in case you were wondering. If that still leaves you wondering I would suggest Google. I am not sure what goes on in Freer but they sell a lot of deer corn.

I am very good about checking the weather reports before I go for a ride. I usually check two or three weather services to be sure. This served me well the last ride I went on. I rode north until I hit the front coming down and when I turned around I had a most pleasant tail wind. None of the lying bastards mentioned it would be a wet front and I would be pelted with sleet and then soaked. The 35 miles home resulted in a mild case of hypothermia and gratuitous use of curse words. I looked very closely before heading to Freer with Hudler and it did look like a good day for a death march, partly cloudy with mild winds, 12-14 mph.

You might be asking me, just what part of death march do you not understand? I do like riding hills and I am not in all that bad shape. The roads are better than average, my brakes are good, tires fair. Hudler is a good buddy and doesn’t lie nearly as well as the weathermen. Ah, the weathermen, the Satan's spawn, the lying rat bastards, who else gets paid for being wrong so often? (That is a rhetorical question don’t bother mentioning lawyers, realtors, and politicians.) The putrid bags of scurvy slug slime said the wind would be 12-14 mph. They should have added 12 and 14 and thrown in a little extra to allow for windage. Like I mentioned earlier, I like hills, I hate 30 mph headwinds. I really hate 45 mph gusts..

We left Freer heading for Hebbronville. (Google maps please) There is nothing at all on the 40 mile ride between the towns but roadkill and empty deer corn bags. Five miles south of Freer there is a sign that says no gas stations for 34 miles. We both felt pretty good when we hit the road but that passed quickly enough. The hills are gentle slopes but long, the wind made them feel like the Alps. We slogged along at 9 mph for 30 miles. Somewhere along the way a truck blew by and it felt and sounded like someone popped a paper sack on the side of my head. Add to that the indignity of a 45 mph gust of wind bringing us to a dead halt started us thinking. Do we really have to go all the way to Hebbronville? Who are we going to impress?

A quick swig of warm Gatorade and we were flying home. It was pretty close to flying too. Those 9 mph hills were now 30 mph hills. We had a little game of tag towards the end of the ride and came close to hitting 40 mph. After that we had an important decision to make. Should we have a cold FRS recovery drink from Hudler’s cooler? Or a cold bottle of ale from my cooler? If you can’t figure out what we decided then you should not go on a road trip with me or anyone sane.

This trip was so much fun we did it again last Sunday. The brainiacs at the weather service said there would be a mild wind once again, from the north this time. It was actually mild but from the ESE. It was a lot easier heading south to Hebbronville, we rode the entire 40 

miles without a lot of trouble. It got a little windy but no gales. We stopped at the store, and then headed back. There was mention of a cold front, when we hit the road it was in the 40’s. When we left Hebbronville it was heading to the 80’s. That nice little tail wind we were looking for turned into a crosswind than was no help at all. The 30 mph hills were 20 mph hills and there was no sprint for the city limits. An 80 mile ride is an 80 mile ride and they only thing different was fresh roadkill and Jesus in the dry stock tank.

We put on the outlaw country station and braced ourselves for the 2 hour drive home. We talked a lot about music and then the big question; why in the hell did we get up at 4:30 AM and drive 2 hours so we could beat ourselves up on a lonesome road that looks pretty much the same from one end to the other? It sure beats sitting on your butt at home. If we lived somewhere else we would be doing something outdoors. I used to hike, canoe and climb when I was in Oregon. Down here, we just do miles, and miles.

Feats Don't Fail Me Now

Here is my annual Tucson report. Every year my wife and I go to Tucson for the Gem and Mineral Show. This is an event that goes on for weeks and has venues all over the city. It means dressing for business and spending a lot of time either riding on, or waiting for buses. We buy precious and semi-precious stones for our jewelry and tools and supplies for or glass making. I try to squeeze in a little beer consumption and a bike ride or two.
This year I managed to get in a couple of rides. The weather was prefect, not too cold or wet or windy. I rented a bike from Fairwheel Bikes. I have rented from them for the last four years and highly recommend them. They also sell some very very cool high end bike parts. The kind of stuff you don’t tell you wife about but make sure everyone notices.

The first ride this year was with Tucsonbikelawyer.com. He does have a real name and is a real person and believe me he is a LOT taller than he sounds on the phone. His real name is Erik Ryberg. He is a strong advocate for cycling and the go to guy in Tucson if you have a cycling related legal issue. I feel very fortunate that he took a break from his busy schedule to ride with a virtual stranger. He suggested a short casual ride that just happened to go up Sentinel Peak, locally known as “A” Mountain. Trust me, going up was a lot less scary than coming down. A rental bike that is just a little too big and you have only ridden for an hour, does not make for confident descending.

That evening I looked over all of the local rides that were posted (http://www.aliciarides.com/WeeklyRides.html) and found one that looked good. Cactus Cycling Club listed a ride that was B-B+, FF and 25-30 miles. The speed was good,(14-18 avg) FF translates into Fairly Flat, and who really cares about the mileage as long as it doesn’t lead to a divorce. I met them at the park bright and early Saturday morning and discovered there was a slight change of plans. We would be going over Gates Pass and back. It dawned on me that FF might stand for other things than Fairly Flat. Flexible Flyer perhaps? Fractured Fairytale? Flyby Fords? Filleted Flatlander?

The CCC are great people. I would ride with them any day and recommend that you ride with them as well. It’s just, well it might just be me, but Gates Pass didn’t strike me as being particuarly flat. (3100 ft alt.)It wasn’t too bad going east to west, the traffic was a little annoying, but it was doable. The warnings about the steepness and high speed of the descent had me about ready to wet my pants. Did I mention how much fun the rental bike was going downhill? By the time we got down off the pass I was feeling pretty good.

There were a lot of small hills and rollers, the kind of stuff I normally just thrive on. Those of you who don’t cycle should know this one little thing. There is a little lever underneath the brake lever. If you ride a Campagnolo equipped bike this lever gives you a lower gear. If you ride a Shimano equipped bike it gives you a higher gear. I ride Campy, the rental was Shimano and you really are not supposed to shift up into a bigger gear near the top of a hill. There was frequent use of mildly bad language.

I mentioned earlier that I was feeling pretty good about myself after getting off the mountain. The ride from west to east fixed that pretty fast. The wildly fast ride down the west side of the pass translated into a slow, very steep climb back up. There was a point near the top, rumored to be 12% grade (my Garmin showed 14%), where if I could have generated enough forward motion to stop without falling over I might have walked to the top. If you are old enough to have watched “Laugh In” it would have looked like Arte Johnson falling over on his tricycle. When the sweep rider passed me near the top I dug deeper and just powered up and over. I mean, who likes to be passed by a guy with gray hair? (I may have been older than him but I look young. Clean living and all that jazz.)

The ride back in was a blast. I would like to do it on a better bike someday. The pace did pick up a little on the way home but who cares? We were having fun. Things worked out and I joined the CCC for lunch. I have rarely encountered a nicer group to ride with. I look forward to riding with them next year, hopefully on a better bike.They mentioned a nice little ride up Mt. Lemmon for pie. No ride with pie can be all that bad, right?



Oh, I forgot to mention, somebody out there owes me a beer, FF my butt!

You Can Get it If You Really Want

I saw something today that made me stop. I saw a woman on a bike, pulling a trailer with two little bikes on it. It was unusual enough that I turned and chased her down. I had groceries flopping around in my bike bags so it was no hot pursuit. I caught up with her and congratulated her on a wonderful idea. School was about to let out and she was going to pick up her kids. She said it was a lot easier to ride to the school with the bikes than to get the kids up to ride. The kids are 6 and 8 years old. This was not a perfect picture. Her bike was a Walmart Special and in dire need of generous amounts of oil, grease. or opossum fat, anything to at least startle the rust. There were also no helmets around for big or little. I would like to see helmets but I will settle for one less car and a family on bikes. If you saw the traffic jam of SUV’s in front of the school you would jump for joy to see anyone not shoving a kid in the back of a car.

There has been a bit of talk lately, some e-mails flying around, about the lack of bike paths down here in the Rio Grande Valley. There are a few bike lanes and paths but they go nowhere and tend to be tacked on to four lane roads or share a double wide sidewalk with dog walkers and roller bladers. I have a theory as to why this is. The city planners see cycling as a recreational sport and not an alternative means of transportation. It is a valid point. There are very few people down here who commute by bicycle. It is a chicken and egg situation.
If there are more bike commuters will they build more paths or if they build more paths will there be more bike commuters? There is no need to outfit the valley with a comprehensive network of bike lanes and paths overnight. There is also no need for cyclists to wait until there are bike paths. However, unless more people start using their bikes as transportation and not toys, the city planners are not going to take bike lanes seriously.

Now before anyone gets their panties in a bunch (you guys know who you are) I will admit to wrapping my butt in lycra and riding for sport four or five times a week. I enjoy it tremendously. I will even admit to having a wife with a truck and (GASP!) going to the store in the truck. Sometimes I even throw the bike (gently and metaphorically) into the back of the truck and ride home from wherever it is my wife needs help at. I do try and use my bike as often as I can. It makes for some awkward moments, think two frozen turkeys and a six pack or beer, but I manage. I can’t think of a sport that rewards an old guy with bad knees as much as cycling even if lycra does make your butt look big. (Tip: Black is slimming, every other color makes your butt look like the Hindenburg.)

So what is the point of this ramble? I just like to see everyone leave the car at home once in awhile. Maybe, just maybe, there might be enough bike lanes someday that commuting is easy and fun, until then, we have to start somewhere.

post note: Bob went back to the vet on the Surly. He is still not happy. My other cat, Comet, at 14 was not much more impressed than Bob. I at least had the foresight to take them on separate trips.

Labor of Love

It is the new year and I have a head cold. One of those nasty hack your brains out, eat pharmaceuticals and struggle along through misery colds. This has curtailed a lot of my cycling plans but has not kept me from my mission to tear down the old shed and put up a new one. Imagine having a head stuffed with cotton and secured with a hard hat. Two questions go through your mind; “Is that beam going to come down like the walls of Jericho?” or “Is the stud bunny going to pee on my head while I’m down here?” It’s a cliffhanger, ain’t it?

Much more fun is the rebuild of my beloved Co-Motion Espresso. Seven years ago I ordered my dream bike, an artisan made, fillet brazed steel racing bike. Most people at the time were getting carbon fiber bikes. They still are. In fact many of the people who were buying bikes about the same time I was have bought at least one new bike since. We are not talking WalMart bikes either. A new racing bike, top quality, starts at about $5000 and only goes up from there.

Carbon bikes are trendy, light, expensive and fun but where’s the soul? Sure you can buy the same bike Lance Armstrong won the Tour de France with, but do you think he really cares? Does anyone at Trek even know your name? When I was considering my Co-Motion I was told that if I bought a Lightspeed or a Merckx everyone would say cool bike and that would be it. If I got a Co-Motion they would say what’s that? and I would have to show them every Saturday.

Well it is true. Most of the carbon crowd has know idea what I am riding. The brand conscious riders don’t even see me as a tiny bip on their radar. What I have that they don’t have is a bike with a soul. I have met everyone who has ever worked on my bike. The person who designed it and did the fillet brazing is an old friend, Dwan Shepard. He took me around the factory and introduced me to all of the people who built my bike from tubes to shipping .

So what is the labor of love? I have completely stripped the Co-Motion down to the bare frame and I am painstakingly cleaning, polishing and upgrading. The whole bike will get a nice coat of carnuba wax and be buffed to a blinding shine. There will be a new crank, new brakes and a shifter rebuild. The bike has been very good to me for over 50,000 miles. It should be just as good for another 50K. That’s what you call soul.

Just Because It’s a Good Idea Doesn’t Mean You Should Do It or, Bob's Not Happy

My new ride is a SUB, a sport utility bike.  The concept is a sturdy well made bike that can carry more stuff than just me and my knapsack. I got myself a Surly Pacer frame and fork on Ebay and then fitted it out with a Campagnolo drivetrain bought on sale, or close out, or Ebay. It’s not a $300 cheapo by any means. It’s not even one of Mr. Braddy’s dumpster rescues. It is worth about twice what I paid for it and should last a few decades. It’s not real fast but it can carry a good bit and it has a shiny brass bell.

It is a good idea for all of us to try to use automobiles less. This could mean carpooling, doing more than one errand per trip, or an alternative means of transportation. Personally I am very fond of land sailors, anything from a skateboard to a railroad handcar with a huge amount of sail attached. This is not very practical however much fun it provides. Most people can leave the car at home by walking, riding a bike, taking the bus or hitching up a wagon to a mule.

I have a nice selection of livestock around our little acre. There are rabbits, chickens, gold fish and two cats. One cat lives inside and the rest of the menagerie lives outside, including the fish. Bob is the outdoor cat. He had a little mishap and needed to go to the vet. My lovely wife was not home but hey, no big deal, I’ve got a SUB. I strapped a pet carrier to the rack 

on my bike and trundled Bob off to the vet. It’s only a mile or so, no big deal,

 right?

Bob didn’t think so. He yowled all the way to the vet’s. He was a perfect gentleman at the vet’s. He had an abscess on his foot and was all nicely bandaged up for the ride home. He yowled most of the way home. Three fourths of the way home we were chased by a Shitzue and Bob pretty much shut up the rest of the way home.

Bob had to go back to the Vet four days later. I figured I would improve his accommodations. I made a flat bed for the rack and attached a bigger more plush cat carrier, complete with a rug so he would not slide around so much. It looks pretty slick and is very stabile. The wire door makes a racket over chipseal and bumps. Bob let me know about this real fast. He was very vocal and very loud for most of the way over. I was thinking it was a good thing I faced the door towards the rear. I might have needed stitches if he could have reached a leg.

The vet loves Bob, everyone loves Bob. He is a real sweetie with no dignity and all of the girls who come by the shop, coo over him. He doesn’t bite or scratch, he falls over and lets you rub his tummy. He got around just fine with his leg bandaged up, he even jumped over the garden fence. Bob’s a good cat, he’s just not happy. Cycling is not for everyone, especially Bob. Next week, the indoor cat has to go to the vet. Whee.

(Recent big load. Two frozen turkey breasts, 2 cans of white beans, two cans of pumpkin, two boxes of 2 gallon ziplock bags,2 pounds of Tilamook cheese, and a six pack of Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale. Half in one bag half in the other.)