My friends did the Slick 50, but all I got was this muddy ass

Subtitled: "Fenders -- Always a good idea for spring-like rides in MN." Yours truly forgot his camera. So, all I have to show for the 50+ miles of slogging through muck with like-minded, two-wheelin' friends is the crusty afterglow. We all met for breakfast at the Triple Rock, I sampled the Northern Biscuits and Gravy. Being a TN boy, I'm always intrigued whether the other half of the country can get certin signature dishes right (grits included in that list). I have to say the Triple Rock didn't do too bad and the portions were big enough to make Cracker Barrel cringe. Of course, you can't down two pints of Guinness with your breakfast at Cracker Barrel. (Hey, it was St Patty's Day, okay?)

Our group was of decent size -- large enough that I overheard one innocent bystander ask whether we were a Critical Mass ride. We headed west along the Greenway from Triple Rock (where they were later to host a tribute to Thin Lizzy) enjoying smooth, dry pavement. In Hopkins, that all changed. All of a sudden it was like I was living in the middle of one of those videos I've seen of European Spring Classic bike races. Mud (not just any mud, mind you -- fine, sticky limestone mud), ice, puddles, snow, ice, and mud. You just couldn't find the right gear to move efficiently through the mud. This made me envious of my single-speeding friends to some degree. At least they didn't need to worry about looking for the right gear. This mud was like nothing I've ever ridden before. It didn't suck the wheel in like a pit, it just seemed to create a surreal amount of adhesion between the tire and the squishy ground. The mud was like plasma, morphing between states of almost liquid and certainly not solid. I'm very glad breakfast hadn't included ingesting any psychodelic agents.

The group took it in stride at first. We were all getting pretty caked with the shit. A few goody goodies had full fenders and looked like they'd just stepped out of the house, clean as a whistle (Irish Spring!) The rest of us resembled rejects from a 1933 Tour photo. We pressed onward, however, drowning our sorrows in beer, flask emissions and foul sarcasm. Returning east on the Luce Line trail, Hurl bent to group consensus ("Enough is enough!") and we proceeded our tour meandering, via pavement, through posh lakeside villas. We took over a corner of a parking lot in Wayzata waiting for 2 riders who'd taken another route. While there we enjoyed 25 minutes of surveillance from across the street by Wayzata's finest. What a crock. I kept waiting for the dink to pull over and tell us we had to move on. But, he didn't. Maybe he was waiting for back-up.

We rolled back to Hopkins, tackling a few more miles of the trail we'd ridden out hours earlier. In some ways it seemed better, but it was still a slogfest at best. When we finally hit the true pavement of the bike highway again, energy (and thirst) returned. We were clocking 20-25 most of the way back into Uptown. We were back in time for Wrex, Trevor and me to get some heckling from B-Rose at CRC. When you visit B-Rose, bring some of your favorite Irish tunes on CD. Check out more words about and (actual action) photos of our quest for the holy gray whale at Hurl's blog: http://www.crccoffeebar.blogspot.com/

In the meantime, I'm thinking SheMan-o could benefit from our beneficial R&D efforts on Saturday. An earth-friendly anodizing pattern seems to accent their components quite well. Am I gonna wash it? No. It's supposed to rain/snow tonight. I'm planning to ride this beast to work and let Nature do the cleaning for me.

Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't profess my undying thanks to my partner, April, for letting me go play for the day. And, Sylvia, don't worry, Daddy will quit leaving you to go ride as soon as you can reach the pedals on a Trail-a-bike. Which will, of course, be outfitted with one helluva set of fenders.

Sometimes I communicate with Blogger using sign language

Especially when it won't upload my photos.

What does it mean?

When two side-by-side headlines on your online home page talk of a "Mortgage Default Tsunami" and Maserati intoroducing a new car? Well, there's a disconect somewhere. You do the math.

So, this morning I got cut off at an intersection. No big deal, you say. Well, the woman in the car cutting me off had attached to her trunk none other than a bike rack (an empty bike rack)! Ha! She looked at me the whole time while slowly pulling away from her stop sign (I had the right of way). Ah! Ah hah! And you drivers ... I hear from time to time that drivers are SO pissed off that cyclists don't obey the traffic laws. Do you know how many times I pull up to a stop sign only to have the motorist opposing wave me through (after a conspicuously long stop where THEY have the right of way)? A lot. A lot. Lots and lots. Thanks, but no thanks. If I stop, then you go. Drivers want cyclists to behave like motorists but then they bend the rules for cyclists all the time. It seems like courteous treatment, but it's confusing as hell.

So ... a message ... do you know why, as a conscientious cyclist, I don't obey a great many of the traffic laws/signals? Ahoy! They weren't designed for cyclists! Stop lights don't cycle for bikers; traffic won't yield for a left turning cyclist; etc. You drivers need to get over it. When I ride, I want to live. For the most part, I make my own rules of the road. Most drivers don't even obey the laws. I'd recommend you clean up your own crowd before attempting to enforce the legal high ground with bicyclists.

Well, the weather outside is frightful ...

... not really, lately. We have been, in a word, spoiled. "Pure spoilt rotten," as some of my TN kin-folk might say. It has been in the 30s and 40s and, today, even the 50s. I'm not talking about a throwback to McCarthy-era conservatism either. We're talking some of the best riding temparatures known to woman or beast. Yesterday was the first team training ride for illustrious Team Hub, aka The Hub Cycling League. For those not in the know, The Hub is only the coolest bike shop in town. Yeah, really. www.thehubbikecoop.org Check it, check it, check it out.

Well, back to the weather. Consider this image. Barely two weeks of bumbling American political history has come to pass since this was the scene out the back window. (And, no, that's not my Beemer.) Anywho, the bike commuting was hellacious. I was even overheard to admit on one morning ride that, "I am tired of this shit." Imagine skating one two wheels, basically -- sliding into ice ruts created by car tires. Careening out of one rut into another, which throws you back the other way. Lots of fun. Back and forth ... 2 feet, 3 feet ... all the while wondering how you've escaped horizontality. (New word. I like it.) High "pucker factor." It's a joy to start your day totally gripped, just imagining that you don't want to slide the wrong way should a car be overtaking you. I am proud to say that I did not have too many biffs. But winter ain't over yet. Forget the groundhog; I'm gonna hire a plump woman to belt out a capella tunes curbside. Then, it's over. Enough said.


We got another whopper of a snowstorm recently. Something like 10" in a day or so. Some were even calling it a blizzard. I think it's been too long since a real blizzard has visited Mpls. Folks just want to roll the word off their tongues to make sure they can still pronounce it. My company even concocted a strategy to get employees out of work early. I had an option to drive. But I also had the option to ride. My good pal, Dave Lee, was leaving work at the same time. Dave is my favorite co-worker to ride with since we have a good groove and similar pacing. It was hard in spots since the snow was already 8"-10" deep. What a great ride though. It was one of my favorites of all time since the temperature was reasonable and the energy was high. We had residents out shoveling their driveways cheering us on. A Papa John's delivery driver even rolled down his window to shout, "You guys are awesome ... yeah!!" I was greeted upon arrival at home by my loving family. Sylvia was still in her snowsuit and charged out to greet me. You'd think I'd just been released from prison or something. Maybe I had.

Perhaps drivers ought to reconsider the plight of existence inside a four-wheeled prison cell. All things considered, I got home faster and safer that afternoon on my bike.

SLOW DOWN!!!!

The weather in the Upper Midwest lately has been very typical Upper Midwestern winter weather. And tonight, it's back -- a few inches of snow overnight with another predicted 8-10" over the next day and a half. Is the point of this entry to gripe about winter? Well, no. Yours truly is biking away and loving the reprieve offered by warmer temps. (Yeah! 30 degrees!) The warmth distracts from the hardship of surmounting 3ft plowed snow banks blocking bike paths and sidewalk shortcuts. (In winter all importance is placed on the roadway which is typically plowed to the bare minimum width. Bike lanes? Forget about it. Shoulders, sidewalks and crossings are where the snow is allowed to pile up. To be fair the greenways and most bike paths are plowed. Sometimes I wonder who the hell got approval for that. The Midtown Greenway, for instance, is among the first surfaces plowed in the city. Lucky is the cyclist who can get where s/he needs to go on the Greenway. My 12.5 mile commute to work includes only about .5 miles of bike path; the rest is city streets.)

There's nothing quite like a fierce blast of Nature's fury to bring out the best and worst mankind has to offer. Think of the technology behind snow removal. Even I am amazed how overnight the City of Minneapolis can scrape 8 inches of snow off most all the roads in the metro area. As a cyclist, I'm somewhat elated. It might be fun to trudge along through the snow on a bike, but anything over 2 inches deep makes for slow going. Whoa ... wait a minute. If it has just snowed 8-10 inches, why am I worried about getting somewhere fast?! Well, that's a good question. Gone are the legitimate "snow days." We'll be telling our kids about them as they're sentenced to uninterrupted school attendance because our technological might has ascended to a level on par with Nature. By Golly, there's no reason to miss work, school, shopping, or your hair appointment. Every single, solitary, frickin' day can be carried on just like the one before it -- and should be -- because nothing (NOTHING) should impede the wheels of commerce and slow down this pace of life ... err, "quality of life" ... we've created. Right?

Yeah, right.

As you might guess, this entry is going to have something to do with cars. Drivers of cars, actually. "Oooh, those rascally drivers," a cycling Elmer might say. And maybe it is a little about weather. Or, at least, all the incredibly drastic and expensive measures we take to counteract the effects of weather. The main message (tying in the title of this spew): SLOW DOWN! Yeah, that means me, you and everybody drawing breath in this fair and blessed of lands we call 'Uhmerica. ' (Gee Dub, you're the best.) So, what's with the image up top? Just a "serving suggestion," if you will ... a recipe for slowing down. Feel free to add spice and condiments to your liking. Look out the window of CRC Coffee shop (www.crccoffeebar.blogspot.com) as depicted in that image -- falling snow and nasty roads. Slow down. Go home. Park your car. Walk somewhere, like your local neighborhood hangout. (Oh, you suburbanites will just have to substitute your local TGI Fridays or Target Greatland.) Move away from your computer. Put down your cell phone. Hang out with your loved ones. Read a little. Discuss what you're reading. Play with your kids. Rejoice, ye children of Israel that god hath brought a spontaneous occasion for ye to rest (since the sabbath day doesn't seem to function as such anymore).

Okay, what the hell does this have to do with drivers? Well, literally, drivers need to slow down. No, really -- slow the fuck DOWN! I have to say that the past three days of bike commuting have revealed to me some of the most impatient drivers I've encountered all winter. What is it with you people? Do you leave your brains at home in the spot where you almost forgot your Starbucks gift card? It's not just your average Joe Schmoe, either -- it's policemen, it's school bus drivers -- all driving like freakin' idiots. It's the guy and girl in Richfield driving a POS Neon backing out of the driveway in front of me, me passing on the right, and him conspicuously gunning the POS Neon engine when passing me a half block later.

Of course, maybe drivers' impatience has nothing to do with the weather. Gas prices have gone up lately. Who cares? Gas is still cheaper than a lot of things. It's a hell of a lot cheaper than cologne, for instance. ($30/ounce or $2.55/gallon?) And, shit, it's cheaper than beer, even cheap beer which will still cost you about $6-$8/gallon. When gasoline is $10/gallon it will still not be fairly priced. But will drivers who can't even extract their craniums from their sphincters long enough to act like decent human beings to other human beings actually get it? You do the math. This skeptic is signing off to go spend some quality time with his family.

All great bike projects begin, and end, with ...

... the right tools? (Plenty of those to go around in this joint.) No, shoot lower, young Grasshopper. Baby powder? Well, no tube is properly installed without it, but ... think of the gentle fizz of malted barley goodness. Beer. Yes, BEER. I really thought seriously about naming my blog "Buddhas, Bikes and Beer." That would have been way more cool. Instead, I wanted to sound more esoteric, symbolic and artsy. (I'm beginning to notice that I really ought to get on my manservant to clean up the place more often.)

I've been feeling a bit nostalgic lately. So, I offer up image 'Exhibit B': a little momento placed in my hands by Herr Houts many moons since.

A touching image which has baffled many a friend and turned away countless fine concubines. I do not find it baffling, offensive, nor off-putting. I once worked very closely with cows. (I, unlike my friends at the time, did not find my acquired odor "baffling, offensive, nor off-putting" either.) I tended them (cows, not the friends); I milked them; I wrote poetry about them. And it was all because of an hallucinogenic 8-month stint working third shift on a dairy farm. Hey, I got free tuition because it was the dairy owned by my illustrious alma mater, The University of TN. It was an "experimental and research facility." Don't ask me about rBGH. I know I toasted some potentially good karma with that gig. But I did save a lot of breach-birth calves. You haven't lived 'til you're elbow deep in a heifer trying to pluck a boney, slimey mass of surprisingly fragile life from the grips of suffocation. One one cold, snowy Christmas Eve night I saved a calf. No, I didn't corellate the incident with the birth of a gooey Baby Jesus. But, unfortunately, I think it was a bull. In which case it was promptly removed from its mother and possibly slaughtered months later for veal. Milk's about cows (girly cows, that is). No need for man-folk in this harem. They ain't nothin' a 2 foot stainless steel syringe and some frozen bull seed can't replace. Ah, the joys of factory farming. Amen.

For anyone in the know, who 'da thunk Sov was in A Clockwork Orange?

Prof Houts Sighting

Houts emailed to set us straight on the whole Scandium thing. BTW He says this photo was from New Years, which would inspire such frivolity, however, I know the truth that this is a regular Saturday night occurence around the Houts ranch. Anyway, I quote the master:

" ... your frame is mostly aluminum although containing small amounts of Scandium (from Scandinavia, hence the name). Scandium is even rarer than titanium but retains the same high quality performance characteristics as titanium. It is mixed with aluminum to control grain growth in the weld zone. If you notice most aluminum frames fail at the edge of the weld (the row of nickels). So, you increase weld strength through finer inclusion of other alloys and by reducing the voids that normally occur at the grain boundaries, (as you know, metals have grain structure like wood), of when aluminum alloys harden and oxidize. The hardening code is in the numbers 6061, 4130, 7000. This tells you what process was used both in the materials mix and afterwards in the hardening process. The main goal is to strengthen the weld, but it is just enough Scandium in the mix to create a cleaner, stronger weld. Take it from here marketers! Back to diggin' ditches! That is one sweet ride! This time I mean the bike."

But wait, there's more:

"After sitting here second guessing myself on the numbers on materials ... I looked it up - here is the truth. Every type of material has a different code: Cro-mo Steel 4130 = 4-type of material, 1 percentage of molybdenum, 30-amount of carbon; Aluminum6160 - T6 = 6-major alloy (6 is magnesium and silicon), 1-impurities (mill-controlled impurities), 60-% of Aluminum stock (40% uncontrolled impurities), T6 treating; in this case T is thermally treated and 6 is solution treated and thermally aged; 7000 = zinc is the major alloy. There! That sounds more like it!"

I am so thankful that in addition to bike knowledge, Her Houts also gave me a lot of advice in the area of fashion. Thanks, Dave ... I love you, man.