Get a jersey that says, "Honk if you love cyclists." People who really do love cyclists will know you don't really want them to honk. People who don't love cyclists will keep silent, thinking that will disappoint you.
Problem solved.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
The Extinction of the Cyclist
Humans are the only organism that tries to argue with evolution. We don't prevent it, but we delay and modify it through philosophy and technology.
Bicycles evolved during the first phase of development of metal transportation devices. There had been iron ships and locomotives for decades, but the idea of mass-produced transportation devices made of metal was still new. The first two wheelers, the fast-walkers, were made of wood. But the modern bicycle came in on a wave of advancing metallurgy.
The same advancing metal technology that made relatively light bicycle frames and parts possible also facilitated the development of efficient motor vehicles. The bike radically increased the cruising range of the muscle-powered human. The motor vehicle literally blew all that into the weeds. By the laws of evolution, the bicycle should have died out.
To survive, an organism needs habitat. Often --perhaps always -- it needs supporting species in its ecosystem. The bicycle survived in the industrialized world as transportation for those who could not jump on the motorized band wagon and as a tool for sport. It had been a tool for sport from the beginning. Bike race betting was a solid industry. In less developed countries the bike still provided the transportation advantages to muscle-powered humans as it had in early industrial nations.
As cheap bikes became more available, toy bikes became a child's first transportation tool in some industrialized nations. We were meant to love it at first for the freedom it represented, then discard it for the more advanced automobile as soon as we were old enough.
During the late 1960s the habitat for transportation cycling children began to shrink rapidly. Baby Boomers toyed with bike touring in the 1970s, obscuring the loss as we played in big-boy traffic. By the 1980s, though, the tide had turned against both child cyclists and adult road riders.
Because humans argue with evolution, bicyclists continue to ride. We demand accommodation. We acclaim each mile of rail trail, each city block of bike lane a victory for our cause. We put up Share the Road signs and call all that a plateau from which to build higher.
Evolution is about survival. Perhaps total cyclist fatalities are lower than motorist fatalities. Perhaps they are a smaller percentage of bicyclist population than the death toll of motorists is to their entire pool. But combine death toll, habitat loss and the natural trend of humans to exert less and less, and the outlook is poor.
The general public likes wild animals when they live far away or in zoos. They like cyclists, or tolerate them, on segregated paths, velodromes, suburban residential lanes and European television. Only cyclists care if they have a place to ride. Only a small percentage of cyclists care if they have a right to use the road. On the spur of the moment, a cyclist who previously did not care might begin to care if the next trip happens to use the road. Or the dedicated off-road rider might never question the notion of putting the bike on the car and driving to a riding venue. This could be a sedate path or a gnarly desert ridge. The general concept is the same: consuming fossil fuel and polluting the air to pursue generally green recreation. It's better than towing a trailer full of ATVs. It's generally analogous to cross-country skiing in the USA. Not many people could use that as reliable transportation.
The human story is about faster and faster transportation. The original marathon run was a necessary journey. The prototype for the Iditarod dog sled race was also undertaken to solve a real-world problem. In cross-country skiing the Birkebeiner race in Norway was based on an epic mountain journey and the Vasaloppet in Sweden claims to descend similarly from a crisis adventure.
No event in the sport of cycling celebrates an epic practical journey by a real-world hero. Even before motor vehicles, someone in a hurry would make better time on a horse or a relay of horses, or by rail or ship if available. A bicyclist can do some amazing things. Saving the day is not usually one of them.
Saving the environment might be another matter. If technology produced the perfect green SUV monster truck, that would become the vehicle of choice. People would happily pilot the Queen Mary, crushing all life in their path, if the fuel cost next to nothing and it farted only benefits out the tail pipe. The full extent of those benefits has yet to be determined. If it was at least carbon neutral it would be hailed as the new messiah. Any fitness freak Luddite on a bike who got crushed would just be an unbeliever anyway. But such a magical land yacht has yet to appear.
Green vehicles are coming. Of course any vehicle propelled by an outside energy source could put the Earth's energy equation out of balance. The electricity for plug-in electric vehicles comes from power plants. The electricity for a hybrid comes from its internal combustion engine. Hydrogen has to be refined. LP or natural gas are fossil fuels.
Could the combined total of every capable creature's collected farts power much of our energy needs? That's as close as you'll get to a renewable combustible gas with low acquisition costs. But every animal and person will have to wear a collection tube. Every compost and sewage treatment system will have to be set up to harvest methane. Beano will become illegal. Smoke all the pot you want, but suppress your farts and you're going to jail.
That would give green vehicles a distinctly brownish tinge.
Would the human population rather have a methane collection tube up it instead of a bike seat under it? It’s a small price to pay to avoid having to wobble around on a shaky two-wheeler, gasping and sweating. Get the auto engineers to come up with a brutally fast, sleekly-styled Tootmobile. Get NASCAR into it. Bye bye, bicyclists. They’ll blow us away.
“The 2017 Blue Dart! Thirty-six miles to the colon! Zero to 60 in 4.7 stinkin’ seconds!”
Wind energy takes on a whole new meaning.
While we’re waxing Utopian, how about using dried dung as fuel? Everybody poops. Torch the dried residue in high-temperature furnaces to generate heat for steam turbines. No doubt I am not the first to pursue this line of thought. But since mountains of poop are an undeniable byproduct of a huge population, we need to turn this liability into an asset. The more people making a stink about it the better.
Many transportation cyclists use a bike because they can’t afford a car. Unless the green vehicle revolution magically elevated all these people to be able to afford a car, they will still be stuck out there in traffic, pushing away at the pedals of cheap bikes, wishing and working for a better life including motorized transportation.
From an evolutionary standpoint, a species survives because its birth and survival rate stays ahead of its mortality rate. If the privileged classes do all their cyclist-crushing from environmentally sustainable vehicles and the cyclist population renews itself from the ranks of the poor and the few soft-headed lunatics who bike voluntarily, fuel cost and environmental impact no longer compel anyone to look to the bike for any more practical purpose than exercise. As good a reason as that seems to some of us, it is hardly enough to create a new wave of converts. People will have fewer and fewer reasons to believe bicycling offers multiple advantages.
Where’s the silver lining for cyclists? I’m not sure. Cycling is a thing of the spirit. It is a philosophy. The plethora of existing philosophies and religions demonstrates how willing we are to divide into small groups that turn insignificant differences into walls and moats. The question is how much we tolerate each other.
Bicycles evolved during the first phase of development of metal transportation devices. There had been iron ships and locomotives for decades, but the idea of mass-produced transportation devices made of metal was still new. The first two wheelers, the fast-walkers, were made of wood. But the modern bicycle came in on a wave of advancing metallurgy.
The same advancing metal technology that made relatively light bicycle frames and parts possible also facilitated the development of efficient motor vehicles. The bike radically increased the cruising range of the muscle-powered human. The motor vehicle literally blew all that into the weeds. By the laws of evolution, the bicycle should have died out.
To survive, an organism needs habitat. Often --perhaps always -- it needs supporting species in its ecosystem. The bicycle survived in the industrialized world as transportation for those who could not jump on the motorized band wagon and as a tool for sport. It had been a tool for sport from the beginning. Bike race betting was a solid industry. In less developed countries the bike still provided the transportation advantages to muscle-powered humans as it had in early industrial nations.
As cheap bikes became more available, toy bikes became a child's first transportation tool in some industrialized nations. We were meant to love it at first for the freedom it represented, then discard it for the more advanced automobile as soon as we were old enough.
During the late 1960s the habitat for transportation cycling children began to shrink rapidly. Baby Boomers toyed with bike touring in the 1970s, obscuring the loss as we played in big-boy traffic. By the 1980s, though, the tide had turned against both child cyclists and adult road riders.
Because humans argue with evolution, bicyclists continue to ride. We demand accommodation. We acclaim each mile of rail trail, each city block of bike lane a victory for our cause. We put up Share the Road signs and call all that a plateau from which to build higher.
Evolution is about survival. Perhaps total cyclist fatalities are lower than motorist fatalities. Perhaps they are a smaller percentage of bicyclist population than the death toll of motorists is to their entire pool. But combine death toll, habitat loss and the natural trend of humans to exert less and less, and the outlook is poor.
The general public likes wild animals when they live far away or in zoos. They like cyclists, or tolerate them, on segregated paths, velodromes, suburban residential lanes and European television. Only cyclists care if they have a place to ride. Only a small percentage of cyclists care if they have a right to use the road. On the spur of the moment, a cyclist who previously did not care might begin to care if the next trip happens to use the road. Or the dedicated off-road rider might never question the notion of putting the bike on the car and driving to a riding venue. This could be a sedate path or a gnarly desert ridge. The general concept is the same: consuming fossil fuel and polluting the air to pursue generally green recreation. It's better than towing a trailer full of ATVs. It's generally analogous to cross-country skiing in the USA. Not many people could use that as reliable transportation.
The human story is about faster and faster transportation. The original marathon run was a necessary journey. The prototype for the Iditarod dog sled race was also undertaken to solve a real-world problem. In cross-country skiing the Birkebeiner race in Norway was based on an epic mountain journey and the Vasaloppet in Sweden claims to descend similarly from a crisis adventure.
No event in the sport of cycling celebrates an epic practical journey by a real-world hero. Even before motor vehicles, someone in a hurry would make better time on a horse or a relay of horses, or by rail or ship if available. A bicyclist can do some amazing things. Saving the day is not usually one of them.
Saving the environment might be another matter. If technology produced the perfect green SUV monster truck, that would become the vehicle of choice. People would happily pilot the Queen Mary, crushing all life in their path, if the fuel cost next to nothing and it farted only benefits out the tail pipe. The full extent of those benefits has yet to be determined. If it was at least carbon neutral it would be hailed as the new messiah. Any fitness freak Luddite on a bike who got crushed would just be an unbeliever anyway. But such a magical land yacht has yet to appear.
Green vehicles are coming. Of course any vehicle propelled by an outside energy source could put the Earth's energy equation out of balance. The electricity for plug-in electric vehicles comes from power plants. The electricity for a hybrid comes from its internal combustion engine. Hydrogen has to be refined. LP or natural gas are fossil fuels.
Could the combined total of every capable creature's collected farts power much of our energy needs? That's as close as you'll get to a renewable combustible gas with low acquisition costs. But every animal and person will have to wear a collection tube. Every compost and sewage treatment system will have to be set up to harvest methane. Beano will become illegal. Smoke all the pot you want, but suppress your farts and you're going to jail.
That would give green vehicles a distinctly brownish tinge.
Would the human population rather have a methane collection tube up it instead of a bike seat under it? It’s a small price to pay to avoid having to wobble around on a shaky two-wheeler, gasping and sweating. Get the auto engineers to come up with a brutally fast, sleekly-styled Tootmobile. Get NASCAR into it. Bye bye, bicyclists. They’ll blow us away.
“The 2017 Blue Dart! Thirty-six miles to the colon! Zero to 60 in 4.7 stinkin’ seconds!”
Wind energy takes on a whole new meaning.
While we’re waxing Utopian, how about using dried dung as fuel? Everybody poops. Torch the dried residue in high-temperature furnaces to generate heat for steam turbines. No doubt I am not the first to pursue this line of thought. But since mountains of poop are an undeniable byproduct of a huge population, we need to turn this liability into an asset. The more people making a stink about it the better.
Many transportation cyclists use a bike because they can’t afford a car. Unless the green vehicle revolution magically elevated all these people to be able to afford a car, they will still be stuck out there in traffic, pushing away at the pedals of cheap bikes, wishing and working for a better life including motorized transportation.
From an evolutionary standpoint, a species survives because its birth and survival rate stays ahead of its mortality rate. If the privileged classes do all their cyclist-crushing from environmentally sustainable vehicles and the cyclist population renews itself from the ranks of the poor and the few soft-headed lunatics who bike voluntarily, fuel cost and environmental impact no longer compel anyone to look to the bike for any more practical purpose than exercise. As good a reason as that seems to some of us, it is hardly enough to create a new wave of converts. People will have fewer and fewer reasons to believe bicycling offers multiple advantages.
Where’s the silver lining for cyclists? I’m not sure. Cycling is a thing of the spirit. It is a philosophy. The plethora of existing philosophies and religions demonstrates how willing we are to divide into small groups that turn insignificant differences into walls and moats. The question is how much we tolerate each other.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Car Becomes Lawn Ornament (for the most part)
Pumped up the tires and dusted off the Cross Check for the first week of bike commuting.
The forecast indicates I might need the rain bike at least one day this week, but I promised two potential Surly customers who would be good fits on a 54cm that I would ride mine every day I could so they could do some testing on it. They're actually interested in Long Haul Truckers, but the top tube on the 54 Cross Check splits the difference between the 54 and 56 LHT. Those are the two candidates they had picked just from reading specs.
They're launching their transcon tour late in the summer, so we have time to make good decisions. After that they get to dress the bikes with saddles, racks and all the other fun bits.
The forecast indicates I might need the rain bike at least one day this week, but I promised two potential Surly customers who would be good fits on a 54cm that I would ride mine every day I could so they could do some testing on it. They're actually interested in Long Haul Truckers, but the top tube on the 54 Cross Check splits the difference between the 54 and 56 LHT. Those are the two candidates they had picked just from reading specs.
They're launching their transcon tour late in the summer, so we have time to make good decisions. After that they get to dress the bikes with saddles, racks and all the other fun bits.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Overheard
A table full of the local working class and pretend-working-class athletes were chatting over lunch today at the other end of the lodge.
"I've seen some people out on their bikes already," ventured one.
"Yeah, way too early for that. You want to tell them, 'slow down, not so fast,'" said another.
"Yeah, I've been doing really well holding myself back," said the first. "I'm still skiing."
Too early for what? Too early to expect balmy breezes on your shaven legs, but not too early to show the steel in your character by venturing forth on beater bikes and fixed gears in pursuit of virtuous early miles.
Ski if you like, but the handwriting is scrawled large on the dirty slush. Even if we get the usual April Fools gift of glop, the groomed Nordic thing has gone down the tubes. If the high ranges (relatively speaking) get a heavy load of late-season bounty, that's a ski of a different shape and heft, let alone color. That's the signal for the infamous multi-sport days, shooting couloirs for part of the day, racking up road miles in the other part. Which goes where depends on the temperature swing and the consistency of the original snow.
If you really do have to fit a lot of things into your schedule you will have to choose. The sun is rising on the bike season. It's a good time to play "spring classic" with some quality masochism on the sandy, chunked-up asphalt.
"I've seen some people out on their bikes already," ventured one.
"Yeah, way too early for that. You want to tell them, 'slow down, not so fast,'" said another.
"Yeah, I've been doing really well holding myself back," said the first. "I'm still skiing."
Too early for what? Too early to expect balmy breezes on your shaven legs, but not too early to show the steel in your character by venturing forth on beater bikes and fixed gears in pursuit of virtuous early miles.
Ski if you like, but the handwriting is scrawled large on the dirty slush. Even if we get the usual April Fools gift of glop, the groomed Nordic thing has gone down the tubes. If the high ranges (relatively speaking) get a heavy load of late-season bounty, that's a ski of a different shape and heft, let alone color. That's the signal for the infamous multi-sport days, shooting couloirs for part of the day, racking up road miles in the other part. Which goes where depends on the temperature swing and the consistency of the original snow.
If you really do have to fit a lot of things into your schedule you will have to choose. The sun is rising on the bike season. It's a good time to play "spring classic" with some quality masochism on the sandy, chunked-up asphalt.
Monday, March 23, 2009
How will you stand it?
Ham, in the UK writes:
I have a question for you - I am about to join the ranks of the carbon fibre road bike brigade, courtesy of the UK government bike scheme and Greg LeMond's fight with Trek. (I'm getting the equivalent of 2,000GBP of Trek Madone for 600GBP). Thinking about this, I need to get hold of a bike carrier for the car, and a workstand. Do you have any thoughts of the suitability for carbon fibre, please? I'm thinking of a fork-holding roof carrier for the car, but I can't choose between the BB holding sort, or the seatpost clamping sort (recognising that I need a steel seatpost in there) for the workstand.
All thoughts appreciated
Welcome to the ranks of the test pilots! You'll learn to ignore those snapping and cracking noises.
I jest. Right? Heh heh heh.
Regarding work stands, I never met a BB mount work stand I liked. The bike never seems stable. The parts intended to stabilize it always seem to interfere with some aspect of the work. Seatpost clamping racks hang the bike with all the operating systems unimpeded.
For clamping in a seatpost type stand a steel post is overkill. An alloy one will do. Or you could invest in the Park ISC-4 internal seat tube clamp. That is designed to provide a secure clamping area on fragile frames. A bit pricey, but solidly built.
A torque wrench will become like a crucifix to you. It will be a sacred object never far from your hand. Carbon riders live and die by the small windows of correct torque, aiming to ride that straight, narrow path between a component that slips and the one-way trip to the junkyard that follows the ominous crack of over-tightening. This applies to the seat post you clamp in the frame for repair operations as well as the parts with which the bike is built.
Speaking of torque, beware of twisting too vigourously on the bike in the work stand. No matter how the bike is supported, you can load it in directions for which it was not designed. Have my brother tell you about the jolly night we wrenched the seat tube right out of his favorite touring bike, trying to get a frozen seat post loose. That was a steel frame, so the shop's frame guru just torched out the remains and put in a new seat tube. Then I painted his frame a rather experimental color. He rode it for a few more years before it vanished in the mists of the larcenous underworld.
In the case of carbon fiber, consider all mistakes terminal. It isn't strictly true, but no manufacturer will risk telling you how much of a ding they think a carbon frame or part will withstand and still be ridable. Officially, anything that goes through the gel coat is a death sentence.
Back in 1982 or so, a shop owner in Maryland took a big honkin' crescent wrench to the top tube of his Graftek to prove its durability. But the Graftek was not a true, pure carbon fiber bike. It held up well to the wrench, though. Not like these modern egg shells. Can't so much as brush them lightly with a ball peen hammer...
I have a question for you - I am about to join the ranks of the carbon fibre road bike brigade, courtesy of the UK government bike scheme and Greg LeMond's fight with Trek. (I'm getting the equivalent of 2,000GBP of Trek Madone for 600GBP). Thinking about this, I need to get hold of a bike carrier for the car, and a workstand. Do you have any thoughts of the suitability for carbon fibre, please? I'm thinking of a fork-holding roof carrier for the car, but I can't choose between the BB holding sort, or the seatpost clamping sort (recognising that I need a steel seatpost in there) for the workstand.
All thoughts appreciated
Welcome to the ranks of the test pilots! You'll learn to ignore those snapping and cracking noises.
I jest. Right? Heh heh heh.
Regarding work stands, I never met a BB mount work stand I liked. The bike never seems stable. The parts intended to stabilize it always seem to interfere with some aspect of the work. Seatpost clamping racks hang the bike with all the operating systems unimpeded.
For clamping in a seatpost type stand a steel post is overkill. An alloy one will do. Or you could invest in the Park ISC-4 internal seat tube clamp. That is designed to provide a secure clamping area on fragile frames. A bit pricey, but solidly built.
A torque wrench will become like a crucifix to you. It will be a sacred object never far from your hand. Carbon riders live and die by the small windows of correct torque, aiming to ride that straight, narrow path between a component that slips and the one-way trip to the junkyard that follows the ominous crack of over-tightening. This applies to the seat post you clamp in the frame for repair operations as well as the parts with which the bike is built.
Speaking of torque, beware of twisting too vigourously on the bike in the work stand. No matter how the bike is supported, you can load it in directions for which it was not designed. Have my brother tell you about the jolly night we wrenched the seat tube right out of his favorite touring bike, trying to get a frozen seat post loose. That was a steel frame, so the shop's frame guru just torched out the remains and put in a new seat tube. Then I painted his frame a rather experimental color. He rode it for a few more years before it vanished in the mists of the larcenous underworld.
In the case of carbon fiber, consider all mistakes terminal. It isn't strictly true, but no manufacturer will risk telling you how much of a ding they think a carbon frame or part will withstand and still be ridable. Officially, anything that goes through the gel coat is a death sentence.
Back in 1982 or so, a shop owner in Maryland took a big honkin' crescent wrench to the top tube of his Graftek to prove its durability. But the Graftek was not a true, pure carbon fiber bike. It held up well to the wrench, though. Not like these modern egg shells. Can't so much as brush them lightly with a ball peen hammer...
Friday, March 20, 2009
Out of the car! Now!
Scheduled for a shift in Wolfe City, I seized the opportunity to fire off a bike commute. With the early onset of daylight saving time I had just enough window if we didn't have a closing time pest.
The closing time pest arrived deceptively in advance of closing time. I was working in the repair shop when our Supreme Leader brought in a pair of roller skis to be mounted and a pair of excruciatingly expensive skate poles to be cut. I drew the skis as my colleague selected Carbon Fiber for $300, Alex.
These V2 roller skis have too short a shaft to accommodate a regular jig. You have to build the hole pattern in three steps after determining the proper binding placement from V2's specifications based on ski type and boot size. You have to glue the screws with epoxy. Everything takes that much longer. Then one of the bindings in the first pair had a broken plate I didn't notice until I had already screwed it down.
To complicate matters, a critical bridge I use on the back way out of town has been demolished for rebuilding, so there's no way anyone's going out of town that way. I have to take the busy way, on Center Street.
I come in on Center Street every morning. The way the road pitches, I can maintain speed fairly well to wrangle the traffic. Everyone is forced to slow down as they enter the congestion of town. I quit riding out that way after several ugly incidents in the evening rush hour. Going out, the cyclist fights the grade all the way, with motorists eager to escape the crush of town. They can smell open road ahead. "Born to be Wild" cranks up in their heads. They will kill anyone who gets in their way. I've avoided it for at least 15 years.
No avoiding it tonight. On my longest day of the new season, on my hefty silver fixed gear, I pulled onto Center Street in the little shopping district. This time of year I hoped traffic would be light. It was. I had a lot of energy, too. The luck can't hold, but I had it this evening.
The closing time pest had me crowding dusk. Fortunately I had thrown in some lights in case of something like this.
The ride in had started at about 29 degrees after a morning low of 23. The day was supposed to warm above 40, but never did. It was dropping through the mid 30s when I started for home. I had plenty of clothing. Really, the defining characteristic of the ride was its pleasant uneventfulness. It was chilly, but the wind was light. The roads stayed dry because cold temperatures didn't melt loose a bunch of water. I can't complain.
Back in the car for the next two days, working back up north. Back on skis for those days. In a strange, bass-ackwards way I fell into a career as a sort of professional athlete who never has to win anything.
The closing time pest arrived deceptively in advance of closing time. I was working in the repair shop when our Supreme Leader brought in a pair of roller skis to be mounted and a pair of excruciatingly expensive skate poles to be cut. I drew the skis as my colleague selected Carbon Fiber for $300, Alex.
These V2 roller skis have too short a shaft to accommodate a regular jig. You have to build the hole pattern in three steps after determining the proper binding placement from V2's specifications based on ski type and boot size. You have to glue the screws with epoxy. Everything takes that much longer. Then one of the bindings in the first pair had a broken plate I didn't notice until I had already screwed it down.
To complicate matters, a critical bridge I use on the back way out of town has been demolished for rebuilding, so there's no way anyone's going out of town that way. I have to take the busy way, on Center Street.
I come in on Center Street every morning. The way the road pitches, I can maintain speed fairly well to wrangle the traffic. Everyone is forced to slow down as they enter the congestion of town. I quit riding out that way after several ugly incidents in the evening rush hour. Going out, the cyclist fights the grade all the way, with motorists eager to escape the crush of town. They can smell open road ahead. "Born to be Wild" cranks up in their heads. They will kill anyone who gets in their way. I've avoided it for at least 15 years.
No avoiding it tonight. On my longest day of the new season, on my hefty silver fixed gear, I pulled onto Center Street in the little shopping district. This time of year I hoped traffic would be light. It was. I had a lot of energy, too. The luck can't hold, but I had it this evening.
The closing time pest had me crowding dusk. Fortunately I had thrown in some lights in case of something like this.
The ride in had started at about 29 degrees after a morning low of 23. The day was supposed to warm above 40, but never did. It was dropping through the mid 30s when I started for home. I had plenty of clothing. Really, the defining characteristic of the ride was its pleasant uneventfulness. It was chilly, but the wind was light. The roads stayed dry because cold temperatures didn't melt loose a bunch of water. I can't complain.
Back in the car for the next two days, working back up north. Back on skis for those days. In a strange, bass-ackwards way I fell into a career as a sort of professional athlete who never has to win anything.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
A Kick in the Tail
Amazing how 11 easy miles yesterday gave me something to remember it by when I started today's ride. I shouldn't be surprised.
Another beautiful day today. I got to go out closer to the balmy center of it for a steady 18+ miles of fixed gear in this teaser of early spring. Something nastier has to come along, but it's not on the scope yet. Sure, we get a little something tomorrow into Thursday, but it doesn't push us back to a week of winter.
Silt and Silver softly in the springtime sun
The view from the controls
Warm roads and snow banks
Another beautiful day today. I got to go out closer to the balmy center of it for a steady 18+ miles of fixed gear in this teaser of early spring. Something nastier has to come along, but it's not on the scope yet. Sure, we get a little something tomorrow into Thursday, but it doesn't push us back to a week of winter.
Silt and Silver softly in the springtime sun
The view from the controls
Warm roads and snow banksNot much to worry about on a day like this. I was overdressed as usual, but not enough to overheat dangerously. My biggest problem was a constant temptation to stop and sunbathe.
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