A new friend in town has rekindled my interest in bike touring, which I used to do on a three day basis at age 18 back in NY. In the semi-nomadic late 70's there was a brief surge of "touring bikes" on the market, but this trend faded with the racing bike craze and the advent of the mountain bike. America also grew up a bit, and went to work for IBM.
Touring bikes these days have weird names like "Surly Long haul Trucker" "Co-Motion bandit" , etc. They give it some sort of hippy- machismo, but I have listened to all the techno-talk about the new frames being more able to withstand the endless torture of bearing a load over many miles, and the new wheels are quite impressive. The names are better than BMX bikes like "Kona Stinky" and "Haro- Zippo".
I do have a website, though, with pictures of some beautiful old french bikes, and wonder how these were back in the day, despite the fact that braking efficiency on the old steel rims in the rain was troublesome. But the names of these bikes were graceful. Most people are not aware that a french Baquette is baked long so you can strap it to your top tube. I mean, come on, if you don't think that's cool, you need to get off my blog and go on My-Space or something. There is no hope for you.
Today, if you are serious about touring, you can expect to lay out 2-3,000 dollars, something I cannot do right now. But I am considering buying a Surly frame and scrounging parts for it.
I will not become surly, but I do want a bike that could handle being pushed off the road by a logging truck at 40 MPH with a 40 lb. load. Yes I have been there.
This process will probably take two years to complete. But when I start my projects, I finish them. I hope to ride north to Maine or Vermont for starters. I am amazed at what people throw away in this town. a North Face backpackers' tent. I now have three bike trailers....
Right now the build project is the "ice-bike", a perfectly OK "Dicks' Sporting Goods" $239.00 Taiwanese aluminum, front suspension MT bike I got off Freecycle.com. This bike will be ridden to death, through the salt and sand of New England winter. It will be painted weird neon colors just for fun. I'm trying to recognize it, even though it's Taiwanese, and the welds are really decent. But this bike will get a second life and be ridden hard. Very hard, with no regrets.
I will give my new friend the indian-bike name of "He who walks with ants" like William Least Heat Moon did in his novels, or "Antwalker" for short.
He gave me a whole bunch of amazing equipment today. Cranks, pedals, tires, but the best is a handlebar bag with an insulated cooler feature. It even has the manual inside...
"Innovative new product. You can totally put your beer in here". It has a drinkholder hole in the top. Obviously made in 1986,when Lee Iococca said "It even has a drinkholder".
Ok, cool. I will do that at some point as a road test. Thanks.
It's funny though. I'm very sensitive to other people's energy, not that his is bad or anything, it's just not mine, especially after he told me the bags, gloves etc. have about 3,000 miles on them. So right into the washer they went.
They look brand new now, and don't smell like cologne anymore, obviously an accidental spill back in Idaho someplace. I do wonder, though, if my rides would be really different with some chilled chicken cutlets in my bar bag, as opposed to the usual Fig Newtons and maps and junk.
Tonight I did a training ride that so rocked. I smoked it. Squeaky was unstoppable. I floated to the top of Rumford Hill twelve times, and sprinted down Webster Ave faster than ever. I am thinking about racing in the spring.
If I keep riding through the winter I have a shot. The wind chill kills however, I must be more careful around Talcott Mountain.
People are starting to blink their lights and wave more. Maybe I am "He who blinks with light on head" , I guess, maybe not. It's the new helmet mounted strobe light that has everybody freaked.
I was slightly bummed to not see the award winning Christmas displays tonight at one house. I will post a pic soon of this, I am amazed at the size of the Big Fat
Santas, smiling drunken reindeer, etc. and the fact that these people store this stuff somewhere in the shed the rest of the year.
Or maybe they lease it?
It's always a competitive thing, and these families are always Italian. This makes me chuckle, reminds me of New York, where I am from. There's even a Christmas carol playing in the dude's yard on digital loupe. It's neighborhood theater, and I guess the only time you can really go all out, Halloween being the prelude, of course.
But with Obama as president, maybe we should power all this with solar next time. I just hope the guy didn't blow a fuse. Santa was slumped over, half inflated.
I sat at the top of Rumford, tugging on my water bottle, looking at the skyline of Hartford down in the valley below. What I first thought was Christmas lights turned out to be a horrible traffic jam, which occurs every night.
The blinking of the stop and go red lights was nice to watch, especially from where I was, through the mist of my own wheezing breath.
Squeaky sort of snorted like a horse, shook his head sideways and looked back up at the scene, but was not impressed. I think he would have gone 40 miles tonight in this warm, still air.
A lady in an SUV rounded the corner and stopped, made confused eye contact, wondering what the hell I was doing, just straddling there at the corner. I ignored her. I just wasn't feeling soccer-mom friendly at this exact moment.
I am falling madly in love with a brown and white Springer Spaniel who watches me go up this hill over and over. He/she sits on the couch in the window, watches me go by, over and over. I'm sure the dog can smell me also.
Sometimes I can see a little "woof" in the window. This is getting to be a routine around 6 PM, along with watching the exhausted neighbors all roll in right on schedule at 6:15.
Someday I will have one of these dogs. They are absolute perfection. If you have ever hunted birds you will understand why. Most, of course, have not.
He barks at me, but it's more friendly curious barking than anything. The owner finally brought him outside, and I gave them both the nod, as he staked out his ten- by- ten claim. The way these dogs wag their nubby tails is the ultimate.
Well, back to tinkering with strange Frankenstein activities.
peace, joy, may your inflatables be well lit, and your yard free of poo.
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