Wind - it's there

Yup, windy today. A first taste of fall. Cool (65F!) with a lovely 12mph breeze. Which naturally manifested as a crosswind for the bulk of today 1.5 hour ride. Normally wind makes me lazy, but today it actually seemed to inspire me to work harder. Good ride, though I definitely prefer warmer temps. Took a while to warm up and be comfortable.

And to motorists who complain about "scofflaw" cyclists - STFU. Today I waited at an intersection to make a left turn. No fewer than three successive cars chose to not employ their turn signals - thereby preventing me from making my turn. I don't know where these motorists get off; a solid 50% or more ignore at least one traffic law every 5 minutes. And yet they see one cyclist rolling a stop sign and suddenly all cyclists are criminals who deserve to be "taught a lesson" and slaughtered.

I have a problem

Hello, my name is Brian H., and I am addicted to buying bicycles. I already have a bike for every conceivable purpose and circumstance, and yet I still want more. "Race" bike? Yes. Rain bike? Of course. Flip-flop utility bike for the 1-mile commute to the Post Office, complete with fenders? Doesn't everyone have one of those? Two mountain bikes, a cyclocross/utility bike, ancient non-functional British bike, etc. etc.? Yes, and more.

So I was talking with a friend of mine out in KC, who recently got the biking bug and then was promptly mowed down by an inattentive motorist. Fortunately he escaped - miraculously I might add - injury free, but his bike was destroyed. He's been looking at replacements, and happened upon the 2010 Cannondale CAAD9 4. Upon investigating this bike, I decided that I too must have one:
It's the legendary CAAD9, after all! Reputed to have astronomical stiffness, light weight, and a comfortable ride. This model happens to have a mix of SRAM parts, making it all the more enticing. And to make matters worse, this is the last year these frames will be made in the USA.

Do I need one? Absolutely not. The sizing isn't even quite right for me. But I will inevitably buy one. I already have the justification all worked out. If I decide to enter a race or two next year, most likely I will participate in what is known as a criterium race or "crit". Short, fast races. Since I'm new to racing, I'll be among other people new to racing, and undoubtedly we'll be crashing a lot. I can't risk the Trek in that environment, can I? And the rain bike - which may or may not exist - is clearly not a race bike with its triple chainring. I could deploy one of my many other bikes, and get beaten on all of them. But if I'm going to get beaten, it might as well be on a nice new bike, right?

Oh, well. it could be worse. I think I'll go ride a bike, and mull over the possibilities. Fortunately I can choose from among a wide array of options, selecting the bicycle best suited to my anticipated ride parameters.

Portishead

So I've strayed a little, listening to a lot of Audioslave. But then a little Portishead came up on the ol' MP3 player, and now I am reminded why they are still my favorite band. Not exactly hard-charging cycling music, but Beth Gibbon's angelic voice with the mellow "trip hop" wacky guitars never fails to pluck at my heartstrings. And that's how we know we're alive, right? It's good to be alive.

Freakish Chesterfield Statues/Aliens

As mentioned previously, spooky statues have been appearing around Chesterfield. They freak me out. Here's a few.




This is what I spend my days staring at. Trying to figure out how it works, maybe why it's not working right, and hopefully how to fix it.

Tecan deck being modified in our incredible machine shop. Don't know how I'd do my job without the shop.

Weird occurence...

So the other day I was out riding around my usual evening stomping ground of Chesterfield Valley. As the sun sank, I found myself proceeding eastbound on the Monarch Levee Trail, nary a pedestrian or fellow cyclist in sight. Approaching one of the gravel road crossings, I noticed a maroon Toyota Highlander moving towards the trail on the gravel road. Oddly, he pulled off and parked at the foot of the levee, on the grass, parallel to my direction of travel. As I drew alongside, the roar of an engine alerted me to odd happenings. The Highlander was pacing me! I was cruising along at a brisk 20mph. Thinking that perhaps the SUV driver was trying to figure out how fast (or slow) I was going by pacing me, I naturally nailed it. Accelerated up to around 28mph, the SUV engine roaring anew to keep pace. Over about 200m or so I drifted down to 25mph, not deigning to look over at the SUV, which I could no longer hear. Fortified by fear that perhaps the SUV driver meant to launch onto the trail proper and run me down - I was a cylist and it was a big powerful cyclist-mashing SUV after all - I proceeded at that pace to the next big metal posts in the trail, maybe 1/3 - 1/2 mile along.

Why would an SUV pace a bicycle, on grass? Why would he accelerate to match me, then drop back? Very mysterious.

I proceeded down to the ice rink, then deciding there was enough light for another lap, I turned back. The SUV was back on the gravel road where I'd initially spotted him, moving again towards the trail crossing. I slowed, because there are "Yield" signs on the trail. He stopped at the foot of the levee, still on the road. I proceeded, with a friendly wave. The driver waved back. That was the last we saw of each other.

Weird. Perhaps it was one of the creepy statues come to life and out for a joyride?

Tales of the TeMo

You may be wondering, how did this rivalry between Brian and the TeMo evolve? Well it's a long and painful story, my friend. Pull up a chair and I'll tell you.

It all started many years ago, when the TeMo was first emerging into the world. It was a ferocious beast, hastily engineered and programmed to compete with the multichannel dominance of the Biomek FX. Tecan, being a Swiss company, normally builds finely crafted, exquisitely engineered robots. The TeMo was a little rough around the edges. Or should I say razor sharp? Be that as it may, I was among the first U.S. service engineers dispatched to Switzerland to train on them. Possibly even the very first.

The TeMo made its move early. While lifting the monstrously heavy beast out of its shipping crate, one of the four lifters slipped, and the TeMo teetered towards the hapless soul threatening to crush him under its mighty mass. Fortunately, the other three of us were able to restrain its ferocious assault until the man was able to regain his footing.

Later that day, as we disassembled the TeMo, one of my kind Swiss hosts calmly pointed out to me: "You're bleeding." And lo, it was so. Not just any cut. A deep, razor sharp gash across the entire palm of my hand. The TeMo innards were so sharp, it had sliced me open like a scalpel and I hadn't even felt it. Blood was streaming from the wound. Being a tough American, and not wanting to appear weak in front of the Swiss, I merely wrapped the cut in a paper towel and squeezed my palm until the blood stopped. Which took the rest of the day. The TeMo literally drew first blood in our epic years-long struggle.

A few months later, back in the U.S., I was called upon to install the first TeMo to be sold in the Midwest region. Up near Madison, WI. Although it did not manage to physically injure me, I struggled to make it work. It taunted me. The software then was a little primitive, and it didn't help that I didn't have the specialized tools required for the job. Eventually I got it working, but it required Herculean effort and every ounce of brain power and patience I could muster. And then a little bit more.

All was quiet between me and the TeMo for many years. I moved on, as did it. Its software improved, razor-sharp edges were dulled for safety, vast strides were made. Until that fateful day when I met the TeMo again. Not all of its claws had been removed, and it remembered me. Remembered the taste of blood. It still had powerful motors, blazing speed, and no regard for human life. It attacked me, and I was too slow to avoid its headlong rush. Too many years dealing with calm, docile robots had dulled my reflexes.

I am humble enough to admit I've never fully mastered the TeMo. I'm a little afraid of it. The electronics bewilder me, the command set eludes me, its speed and power intimidate me. I don't intuitively grasp how to teach it where it needs to go. I can muddle through, but it's not easy for me.

I can only hope, being a mostly peaceful man, that the TeMo and I can find a happy middle ground. Wary of each other, certainly. But no longer lusting for blood and/or seized bearings and cooked motors. I'll be keeping my eye on you, TeMo.

Me vs. the Robot, part II

I had cause to work on my arch-nemesis the TeMo again today. You know, the one that attacked me? Gouging a nice furrow in my skull and causing a mild concussion? Well we had at it again today - man vs. robot. I am pleased to report that I managed to fix its broken ass, and it did not so much as scratch me. TeMo: 1; Brian: 1. It's go time for the tiebreaker! I've got my bandages ready. You want some of this, TeMo? Come and get it...
Mind you, the TeMo is perfectly docile and user-friendly in normal operation. Until you start removing parts to work on it...then the claws come out.

Vintage Bikes and Funny Emails

A guy I know who is in the business of providing people with bicycles and other goods, just inquired if I had any big road bikes to sell. Because I'm tall, you know. It's true that my hovel is choc-a-bloc with bikes...most of which were constructed when "Flock of Seagulls" was spankin' new. His reply when I stated what was available was funny: "...house full of my dad's road bikes."

Steel is real! Sure it may be a little heavy, and a little flexible, and it might rust a bit...but man it's smoooooooth. Like the Town Car of bicycles. And yes downtube shifters might be a little hazardous to use when going around corners...or up hills...or ever. Maybe the wheels aren't exactly "straight" or "round" but they do alright. Those 12 or 14 speeds might require you to stray from your maximally-efficient cadence from time to time, and the brakes may stop working at any moment.

I mean what part of "original SunTour parts, downtube shifters, 7 speed" is not exciting?

What was my point? Anyway, I have old bikes.

Dehydration = bad

I'm not a fan of dehydration. First, it makes it hard to pedal a bike. But that's really secondary. What I dislike most about it, is how thirsty you are for the entire freaking day after a lengthy, high-temperature ride. I've consumed at least a gallon of various beverages (Diet Coke, Hawaiian Punch, 7-up, strawberry milk, water, Gatorade) since the end of today's ride, and I'm still thirsty! But my stomach is full to bursting. So even though I want to drink, I'm afraid to. A burst stomach can't be good for you.
Managed to slip between two major thunderstorm cells today. There was one to the east, and one to the west. Lightning, curtains of rain, the whole shebang. Nothing where I was, except wind. Towards the end of the ride, energy flagging from dehydration, the wind shifted and the temperature dropped. I hightailed it home, but the rain never showed.

Although I knew I'd be dehydrated riding today (still dehydrated from yesterday, after all) I went anyhow. And as it happens, it was a good move. Forecast for the week looks pretty storm-intensive. I don't mind riding in the rain so much, but lightning makes me twitchy. Get it? Twitchy? Tough crowd.

Great ride

Some days, you just have a great ride. You don't plan it, you don't know it's going to happen - it just appears all by itself. Today was a great ride. The semi-regular Tuesday meeting at Babler of some MS150 folks and/or coworkers. To be honest, I almost ditched. Poor sleep last night, frustrating day at work, total lack of energy and 30 minutes late when I got home. But I headed out anyway. My ride started pretty lethargic - my computer shared the mood as it refused to work. I pedaled around hoping to meet up despite my tardiness. Soon enough, I encountered Mike D. Then we came across John S. and Jerry C. Shortly thereafter Mike's wife arrived. We chatted for a bit then resumed riding. Mike and wife peeled off to head home; John, Jerry and I continued around the tortuous Babler loops. My computer decided to start working, and I also started to feel pretty good. Good enough that I made it up the climbs without excessive trouble, mustered a couple of "attacks", and generally rode with a decent degree of dignity rather than struggling and straining just to hang on.

The greatness of the ride dawned on me about halfway through. I had energy, the grind of work had washed away, it was hot but not suffocating, and the Trek was nicely orange. Days like these really put an exclamation point on why I love cycling.

Oh - and I took some phone pics of the freaky statues/aliens over the weekend. Once I roust myself to get the pictures from my phone to my computer, I will share them in their bizarre and unsettling horror. Why Chesterfield chooses to install statues rather than repair terrible roads (Chesterfield Parkway, Baxter, I'm looking at YOU!) is beyond me, but there it is.

Wind Noise

Yesterday, by the last remaining light of day, I was out riding on the Monarch Levee Trail. The wind was howling at 10-12mph out of the SSE, sparse traffic on the trail. Perfect for a little experiment I've been wanting to do. I stuffed my Shure SE115 noise-blocking headphones in my ears, cranked up some Audioslave, and hammered into the (cross)wind. It felt weird, and somewhat nerve-wracking, to not be able to hear what was going on around me. But the relief from wind noise was profound. I didn't go any faster, but the "psychological pressure" of battling through the wind was gone....I could maintain a given speed longer. I wish there was some way to cancel the wind noise, but still hear motorists barreling down on you.

In other news, another creepy Chesterfield fake-person has appeared. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM MY HOME! Yes that's right, they're getting closer. If you find yourself driving by the Chesterfield City Hall, look at the nice fountain/pond out front. Is that a person standing there fishing? No, it's a freaky alternate-reality zombie cyborg statue from beyond the 9th dimension! Don't worry, though. I'm keeping my eye on them. For the safety of humanity.

Wow. Seventeen visitors?

I checked my traffic log...apparently 17 "absolute unique" visitors dropped by my web hovel on Saturday. Thanks for stopping in! At this rate I'll be able to start selling ad space and retire in 60-70 years, easy!

Half of you are using Internet Explorer. Seriously, try Firefox.

So, what kinds of posts do you visitors want to see? More product reviews? Ride reports? News of my incredibly cute niece "M"? Aimless rambling about anything I think of? Leave comments, and I'll see what I can do. I'm contemplating a short piece on Vietnam Veterans...stay tuned. And thank a veteran.

My niece can walk!

Booyah! She can walk upright! Mostly. With some effort, and a lot of falling down. But she just gets right back up and keeps on trucking. My poor brother will surely never know peace for the next 17-20 years, heh heh. Go M go! It seems like only yesterday she just figured out how to roll over, and now she's strolling around like it's nothing.

Chesterfield is creeping me out

There are some new apparitions appearing around Chesterfield, and they freak me out. My first sighting was Friday. I went with some guys from work to have lunch with the happily retired Craig the machinist at Chesterfield Mall. At first I didn't notice them- then someone pointed them out. Fake "people" in the mall. "Dude at lunch" was a fake guy sitting on a fake bench, eating a fake lunch in the classic "construction worker" milieu. Another fake guy fake-painting the wall. There were more, but I will save you the horror.

Imagine my shock and dismay when I encounter even more of the disturbing figures around the sports fields in Chesterfield Valley. I was riding around exploring the fields, and nearly toppled when I saw a fake dude apparently reclining on a bench reading the newspaper. In an otherwise deserted area. I quickly spotted more.

They give me the heebee-jeebies, and I high-tailed it out of there. They freak me right out, in a way similar to Willy Wonka. They look relatively normal, but they're just that little bit out of kilter that makes you aware that something is amiss. Kind of like, say, if aliens were pretending to be humans, but not quite getting it right. If one of them ever moves, or even if I think it moved, I may get violent. And as some of you know, I have some experience with beating the tar out of things. Those alien-imposter statue things better watch themselves. 'Cause I've got my eye on them.

I hope they are only temporary installations. Or maybe someone will steal them. Either way works for me. Freaking Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

I apologize for not having pictures. I thought of taking one, but I was on my bike and didn't want to give up momentum in case one of them came to life and attacked me. Maybe next time.

In other news, it was a beautiful weekend for riding bicycles.

RoadID review

In keeping with my dream of doing reviews, here's another. My RoadID showed up in the mail the other day.
I've seen the ads for a while, but was finally moved to buy one. I got tired of moving my license to my bike all the time, then forgetting to put it back in my wallet.

Right off the bat, RoadID treated me right. One of the owners emailed me, personally, complimenting me on my intelligence:

"You have made a very wise investment in your safety and peace of mind - it's quite obvious that you are a highly intelligent individual." -Edward Wimmer Co-Owner Road ID

Surely that's not a canned, computer-generated email. It's like he knows me! With such personal attention, I eagerly awaited my RoadID. It shipped fast, and got here even faster.

It's actually nicer than I was imagining. Very well made, the laser-engraving looks fantastic. Alas, I ordered a medium/large according to their sizing guide. It fits, but just barely. I'm sure they'd have no problem sending me another wristband, but I chose to just buy the next larger size. It's only $3! Can't beat that.

So to sum up, I couldn't be more pleased. The price is a little on the high side, but given the sturdy construction I anticipate this thing will last for decades. And I won't have to worry about the whereabouts of my driver's license anymore. If you've ever been run off the road, wrecked, or otherwise been concerned about being identified if you're taking an involuntary nap, go get one. If this:happens on my bike, instead of being the result of a vicious robot attack, I'll be covered.

Raining...

It's been raining all day, but now it's stopped. Time to ride! A vision of beauty and grace will light my way:
Fortunately I won't have to muck up the Trek. I can neither confirm nor deny that I have or have not acquired yet another "rain bike". It's top secret. Super black ops stuff. The bike may or may not, in fact, be black.

The rumored rain bike has a rough life. It has to suffer every indignity that the frilly, pretty Trek just turns its nose up at. Rolling through rain? Yup. A little off-road action? Sure, why not? It's a rain bike! Triple chainring? Hell yes! I can be lazy on the rain bike. Ridiculously high handlebars? Absolutely! See previous comment about laziness on the rain bike. Which may or may not actually exist. Hard to say. No comment.

Carry on. I was never here...