This is my account of riding my Diamondback Outlook bicycle, affectionately referred to as the Hoopty, across the United States in 2011. I recently re-read these posts, and I feel that they stand up to the test of time. I was honest about my self-doubt and anxieties during the trip, even though I had ridden some shorter tours before.
I remember that before this trip, I wanted to find evidence to support my hope that people everywhere are generally good. I don't believe that I confirmed this in the way that I wanted, but I still believe the next best thing: if you put yourself out there, you will meet good people. From moonshine, naked hot tubs, and a crowded bed in Kentucky, to the hospitality and tornadoes in Kansas, and eventually finding peace on a budget of $5 per day - it was an adventure to remember.
I was a calmer and more experienced person when I reached the end of the trip. While the trip did not change me, it helped to strengthen me. Seven years later, I still reminisce.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Bicycle Trip 2011: Day 1. I hit the road.
It all started out with getting up late. I can't put this in the proper amount of detail right now. Tara and I are parting ways, and loading my bicycle and kissing her goodbye was... difficult.
The bicycle was overloaded, so I cussed and whined about it. The moment was emotional with a nod to anxiety. I cussed and figured out where to stuff extra stuff that I didn't feel like bringing. The extra stuff will accompany me to Kennett Square, but no further. Once there I will re-pack and leave some stuff behind at my parents house, which is a substantial stashing ground for me and also for my sister.
I pulled away, and literally did not look back. Official goodbyes are one of the surreal parts in life. You can glance backward, but you've seen what's there. It's ok. I'll see a new version of all of it again.
The bicycle was heavy, but my spirits were high. I followed some fairly reasonable Google Maps bicycle direction printouts. I'm not in top form, and the bicycle was heavy. Hills became a burden later in the ride. I almost walked at one point.
I made it to Kennett just after mile 47, and managed to make it to bed without drinking. That wasn't the plan. I fully intended to do it up like usual, but my body didn't want it. My mind wanted booze with a lazy curiosity, but I let the moment pass.
The bicycle was overloaded, so I cussed and whined about it. The moment was emotional with a nod to anxiety. I cussed and figured out where to stuff extra stuff that I didn't feel like bringing. The extra stuff will accompany me to Kennett Square, but no further. Once there I will re-pack and leave some stuff behind at my parents house, which is a substantial stashing ground for me and also for my sister.
I pulled away, and literally did not look back. Official goodbyes are one of the surreal parts in life. You can glance backward, but you've seen what's there. It's ok. I'll see a new version of all of it again.
The bicycle was heavy, but my spirits were high. I followed some fairly reasonable Google Maps bicycle direction printouts. I'm not in top form, and the bicycle was heavy. Hills became a burden later in the ride. I almost walked at one point.
I made it to Kennett just after mile 47, and managed to make it to bed without drinking. That wasn't the plan. I fully intended to do it up like usual, but my body didn't want it. My mind wanted booze with a lazy curiosity, but I let the moment pass.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Flying Signs or Going Cheap
To "fly a sign" is to write on cardboard with a marker asking for something. Booze, money, food, etc. It can be as simple as the classic "anything helps." I thought about it trying it. I've hung out with people who travel and write on cardboard, and they've all seemed like good people. If you really need money, then hold up a sign. Nobody owes you money, but some people will be happy to hand over their change. Some people will give you $20. Two people I was hanging out with in Grand Forks said they'd been handed a $100 bill outside of the Target. That's fine with me. We all ate great food around a campfire.
I'm probably not flying any signs, even though I'm fine with it and believe it's my right if I want to. I have a great selection of gear for this trip, and over $3600 in my bank account. I have an efficient alcohol stove, so I can cook cheaply. I have two Northface garments, and my mom bought me the second one today. I'm not a dude who needs to be flying signs. Maybe if I get sassy, I'll make a sign that asks "Can I have a beer?" If it works out then great, but it's harmless quasi-passable humor. It would be an interesting experiment in any case.
Fuck it. I don't know what I'm doing. But at a minimum, I'm going to to visit some people, meet some people, ride around, and cook something. I will definitely sleep somewhere. I will probably make something and fix something. I will probably cuss a lot, but rejoice at times throughout each day.
Today, though, I just loafed around. I did some map-work and preparation. I made a list of contacts for people willing to host touring cyclist along my route. I printed sheets out of my mom's printer, hoping that some of them might give me the strong confidence that I wish I had.
To "fly a sign" is to write on cardboard with a marker asking for something. Booze, money, food, etc. It can be as simple as the classic "anything helps." I thought about it trying it. I've hung out with people who travel and write on cardboard, and they've all seemed like good people. If you really need money, then hold up a sign. Nobody owes you money, but some people will be happy to hand over their change. Some people will give you $20. Two people I was hanging out with in Grand Forks said they'd been handed a $100 bill outside of the Target. That's fine with me. We all ate great food around a campfire.
I'm probably not flying any signs, even though I'm fine with it and believe it's my right if I want to. I have a great selection of gear for this trip, and over $3600 in my bank account. I have an efficient alcohol stove, so I can cook cheaply. I have two Northface garments, and my mom bought me the second one today. I'm not a dude who needs to be flying signs. Maybe if I get sassy, I'll make a sign that asks "Can I have a beer?" If it works out then great, but it's harmless quasi-passable humor. It would be an interesting experiment in any case.
Fuck it. I don't know what I'm doing. But at a minimum, I'm going to to visit some people, meet some people, ride around, and cook something. I will definitely sleep somewhere. I will probably make something and fix something. I will probably cuss a lot, but rejoice at times throughout each day.
Today, though, I just loafed around. I did some map-work and preparation. I made a list of contacts for people willing to host touring cyclist along my route. I printed sheets out of my mom's printer, hoping that some of them might give me the strong confidence that I wish I had.
I'm probably not flying any signs, even though I'm fine with it and believe it's my right if I want to. I have a great selection of gear for this trip, and over $3600 in my bank account. I have an efficient alcohol stove, so I can cook cheaply. I have two Northface garments, and my mom bought me the second one today. I'm not a dude who needs to be flying signs. Maybe if I get sassy, I'll make a sign that asks "Can I have a beer?" If it works out then great, but it's harmless quasi-passable humor. It would be an interesting experiment in any case.
Fuck it. I don't know what I'm doing. But at a minimum, I'm going to to visit some people, meet some people, ride around, and cook something. I will definitely sleep somewhere. I will probably make something and fix something. I will probably cuss a lot, but rejoice at times throughout each day.
Today, though, I just loafed around. I did some map-work and preparation. I made a list of contacts for people willing to host touring cyclist along my route. I printed sheets out of my mom's printer, hoping that some of them might give me the strong confidence that I wish I had.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Ha ha! I'm not going anywhere. Day 3?
I didn't feel like going anywhere, so I didn't. Rest is smart enough, and technically I have forever to take this trip. All of my ties are thoroughly severed with Philadelphia. I decided last night that I wasn't ready to continue. Then I stayed up until 3am watching an American Experience series on my laptop.
Today was full of more preparation. I printed out more sheets of directions. I secured a place to sleep tomorrow night (if my legs can get me all the way to Baltimore), and I ate cheeseburgers with my parents.
Boy do I ever procrastinate. This last minute preparation is like the bicycle touring version of cramming for a test. I never studied for tests; I passed high school with a loafy 2.0 GPA. Hopefully I can successfully loaf across America too.
Back to bicycle touring. What's the point? Hopefully I can start to answer that tomorrow. I have a long day planned. If 47 miles hurt on Sunday, then I hope 77 miles feels alright tomorrow. After that? Short days and some rest are on the "schedule."
I didn't feel like going anywhere, so I didn't. Rest is smart enough, and technically I have forever to take this trip. All of my ties are thoroughly severed with Philadelphia. I decided last night that I wasn't ready to continue. Then I stayed up until 3am watching an American Experience series on my laptop.
Today was full of more preparation. I printed out more sheets of directions. I secured a place to sleep tomorrow night (if my legs can get me all the way to Baltimore), and I ate cheeseburgers with my parents.
Boy do I ever procrastinate. This last minute preparation is like the bicycle touring version of cramming for a test. I never studied for tests; I passed high school with a loafy 2.0 GPA. Hopefully I can successfully loaf across America too.
Back to bicycle touring. What's the point? Hopefully I can start to answer that tomorrow. I have a long day planned. If 47 miles hurt on Sunday, then I hope 77 miles feels alright tomorrow. After that? Short days and some rest are on the "schedule."
Today was full of more preparation. I printed out more sheets of directions. I secured a place to sleep tomorrow night (if my legs can get me all the way to Baltimore), and I ate cheeseburgers with my parents.
Boy do I ever procrastinate. This last minute preparation is like the bicycle touring version of cramming for a test. I never studied for tests; I passed high school with a loafy 2.0 GPA. Hopefully I can successfully loaf across America too.
Back to bicycle touring. What's the point? Hopefully I can start to answer that tomorrow. I have a long day planned. If 47 miles hurt on Sunday, then I hope 77 miles feels alright tomorrow. After that? Short days and some rest are on the "schedule."
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Day 4 (if you can call it that)
I've been sleeping out in my van. It's parked in the driveway at my parents house. I have a nice bed out there, and I feel at home sleeping there. I feel like I am sleeping in my home. Truly.
I woke up this morning to rain tapping on the roof. It was soothing, but I hoped it would soon stop. Ten o'clock came, and the gentle rain continued to fall. The temperature was in the 50's. I had a decision to make.
Fortunately, I think my host in Baltimore is going to be a good find. She quickly emailed me back and said that the next day would be fine. In fact, there might be dinner because she has a boat thing going on. I'll certainly know more about that tomorrow.
How did I find a host? I'll answer that. There is an established international network of touring cyclists. People sign up at the website warmshowers.org and offer to host people who are traveling through their area. If you are familiar with couchsurfing.com, it's like that - except it's a little bit tighter knit because it's just touring cyclists. I emailed 4 people in Baltimore through the website, and my host was the first to respond. She's very quick with the email. I dare you to tell me how technology isn't great.
I went out for wings and beers with family. It was just the Harnes. Just the original four of us.
I've been sleeping out in my van. It's parked in the driveway at my parents house. I have a nice bed out there, and I feel at home sleeping there. I feel like I am sleeping in my home. Truly.
I woke up this morning to rain tapping on the roof. It was soothing, but I hoped it would soon stop. Ten o'clock came, and the gentle rain continued to fall. The temperature was in the 50's. I had a decision to make.
Fortunately, I think my host in Baltimore is going to be a good find. She quickly emailed me back and said that the next day would be fine. In fact, there might be dinner because she has a boat thing going on. I'll certainly know more about that tomorrow.
How did I find a host? I'll answer that. There is an established international network of touring cyclists. People sign up at the website warmshowers.org and offer to host people who are traveling through their area. If you are familiar with couchsurfing.com, it's like that - except it's a little bit tighter knit because it's just touring cyclists. I emailed 4 people in Baltimore through the website, and my host was the first to respond. She's very quick with the email. I dare you to tell me how technology isn't great.
I went out for wings and beers with family. It was just the Harnes. Just the original four of us.
I woke up this morning to rain tapping on the roof. It was soothing, but I hoped it would soon stop. Ten o'clock came, and the gentle rain continued to fall. The temperature was in the 50's. I had a decision to make.
Fortunately, I think my host in Baltimore is going to be a good find. She quickly emailed me back and said that the next day would be fine. In fact, there might be dinner because she has a boat thing going on. I'll certainly know more about that tomorrow.
How did I find a host? I'll answer that. There is an established international network of touring cyclists. People sign up at the website warmshowers.org and offer to host people who are traveling through their area. If you are familiar with couchsurfing.com, it's like that - except it's a little bit tighter knit because it's just touring cyclists. I emailed 4 people in Baltimore through the website, and my host was the first to respond. She's very quick with the email. I dare you to tell me how technology isn't great.
I went out for wings and beers with family. It was just the Harnes. Just the original four of us.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Oh, The Mentality!
Bicycle touring all by yourself can begin with a special sort of mental torture. Know that and be ready for it. I did, and I was.
Around mile 40, I wasn't sure if my legs could get me through the day. I missed Tara, and I started to question myself. Why is it that I strive to put myself in these difficult situations? Is it textbook masochism, or a forgetful stupidity? My grand romanticisms play me like a marionette.
I laid on my back beside a tiny white shack in Maryland that said it was a church. I looked up at the clouds and put an arm over my eyes when the sun shined through. A crusty layer of salt had formed on my arms and face. My eyelids were salty, and to touch them was to risk getting salt in my eyeballs.
I need to grow up. I need water; I need food. I have food, but first I need more water or I can't eat it. I'm at half a bottle, and that ain't right.
I've heard many accounts of solo bicycle tours through friends and acquaintances. A good portion of solo trips devolve into a level of insanity. Let me give you a quick synopsis of my personal history with this game.
In 2005, I was much less experienced. With everything. I thought it would be a great idea to go on a cross country bicycle tour. I was right, but I made a classic major mistake. I overloaded my Mongoose Crossway 450 hybrid to the point that I could barely lift it. I had no idea how lonely and disheveled I would feel after my first day of riding. I called in a reconnaissance team before the sun went down. My parents and Shelly pulled me out of Amish country a couple hours later.
Later that year, I began a solo tour down the Atlantic coast. On the first night, I drank Steele Reserve and ate a can of luke warm beans in the woods behind a church. The next day I arrived in Rehoboth Delaware where I called Shelly and bawled my eyes out. So lonely. I took a bus home, and couldn't have been happier to drink beer and watch live music that night.
In 2007, I planned a trip well in advance. Nat took time off to join in on the ride, and the trip had some great moments and memories. We rode for about a month, going from Philadelphia to Montreal, and spending plenty of time in Burlington Vermont. Nat's bicycle was stolen and it was time for me to continue alone. We'd already talked about contingencies, and this was in the playbook. Solo bicycle travel was always what I wanted to do, but I didn't have a track record of success.
We parted ways the next day. Nat invited me out to lunch, but my heart was beating heavily and all I could think about was getting out of town. It was as though I thought I could outrun an anxiety attack if I pedaled fast enough.
I bought the best bivy sack that I could find (GoreTex and everything), and I mailed our tent back home. Then the scramble began. I ended up doing back-to-back century rides, even after getting food poisoning during the second day. I ended up delirious and malnourished before deciding that Val D'or Quebec was far enough. I took a bus home, and still have yet to see Nemaska. I considered this trip a success. I rode for at least a week or two alone, and knew that with this experience I could only do better the next time. I still wanted there to be a next time.
I remember my next tour as a happy success. I traveled north again with the loose goal of reaching Nemaska. It is well documented on this same blog. I rode my favorite bicycle, my Diamondback Outlook. It's not a bicycle which touring experts recommend, but I wanted to ride the one that makes me happy. I rode long distance on inexpensive equipment, and I had a grand time. I met the best people, saw the best scenery, and I think about it all the time. I could have been more disciplined about nourishment and booze-intake, but the adventure can't be replicated and I am still proud of the undertaking.
Now I am ready for a new adventure. I'm riding the Diamondback again, and I'm ready to capture the beautiful moments that we miss in our daily stagnant lifestyles. I know these trips can be bonkers to get started. I know there will be times when I feel beat up and abused by sun, weather, traffic and soreness. I'm at peace with it. We'll see where I get, and what it looks like when I'm there.
If you're planning a trip, don't don't be ashamed if you end up lonely and bawling on a cell phone, or have an anxiety attack over a broken spoke. We're humans, and these trips have high emotional stakes for some of us. You need to cross through the adversity to get to the sweet parts. Take it slow. Don't rush. Remember to eat properly.
Back to the church. Back to today. I was laying on my back feeling lonely and overwhelmed. The morning started cold, and the winds were strong and gusty. I cussed and strained as I dragged myself up hill after hill moving at a walking pace. I was out of shape, and the rolling hills were beating me up. I was glad to just be sore with no sharp pains.
I sat up in the grass and drank some more water. I threw a leg over my bicycle and continued.
My destination was Baltimore. As beat up as I felt, I was only halfway there. I crawled along and ticked off the miles. I had a bag of food, and once I refilled my water bottles at a Royal Farms, I began to open aluminum foil packets and bring out the goods. I packed two small tacos with rice, beans, and some roast beef. I brought hot sauce, and I made sure to use it. Miles later, I had a tough PBJ that I made four days ago. Delicious. My wonderful mother snuck in a couple ham and cheese sandwiches made on dinner rolls. These by far were the best thing in the food bag. I bought a 24oz Coke to go along, and that brought my total daily expenditure to exactly $1.49.
Then...
Baltimore! Mi amor! To see the name of the city in bold colorful print was a welcome sight. It was on an underpass as I entered the city limits. I did it. I thought I might snap a muscle first, but I made it, and I actually felt pretty good. 80 miles was a tough ride, but I had that in me and more.
I made it to my host's home just as she was about to leave. She races sailboats in the inner harbor, and I was welcome to hang out and watch. A dinner shindig was included, so I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. While she raced, I helped set up for the Cinco-de-Mayo-themed after party. There were legit make-your-own tacos, and the margaritas had real live alcohol. I had a few of those, and a couple Modelo's for good measure. Serendipity is one of my favorite words. Having good people to stay with at the beginning of a trip is a fantastic way to start.
Bicycle touring all by yourself can begin with a special sort of mental torture. Know that and be ready for it. I did, and I was.
Around mile 40, I wasn't sure if my legs could get me through the day. I missed Tara, and I started to question myself. Why is it that I strive to put myself in these difficult situations? Is it textbook masochism, or a forgetful stupidity? My grand romanticisms play me like a marionette.
If you're planning a trip, don't don't be ashamed if you end up lonely and bawling on a cell phone, or have an anxiety attack over a broken spoke. We're humans, and these trips have high emotional stakes for some of us. You need to cross through the adversity to get to the sweet parts. Take it slow. Don't rush. Remember to eat properly.
Around mile 40, I wasn't sure if my legs could get me through the day. I missed Tara, and I started to question myself. Why is it that I strive to put myself in these difficult situations? Is it textbook masochism, or a forgetful stupidity? My grand romanticisms play me like a marionette.
I laid on my back beside a tiny white shack in Maryland that said it was a church. I looked up at the clouds and put an arm over my eyes when the sun shined through. A crusty layer of salt had formed on my arms and face. My eyelids were salty, and to touch them was to risk getting salt in my eyeballs.
I need to grow up. I need water; I need food. I have food, but first I need more water or I can't eat it. I'm at half a bottle, and that ain't right.
I've heard many accounts of solo bicycle tours through friends and acquaintances. A good portion of solo trips devolve into a level of insanity. Let me give you a quick synopsis of my personal history with this game.
In 2005, I was much less experienced. With everything. I thought it would be a great idea to go on a cross country bicycle tour. I was right, but I made a classic major mistake. I overloaded my Mongoose Crossway 450 hybrid to the point that I could barely lift it. I had no idea how lonely and disheveled I would feel after my first day of riding. I called in a reconnaissance team before the sun went down. My parents and Shelly pulled me out of Amish country a couple hours later.
Later that year, I began a solo tour down the Atlantic coast. On the first night, I drank Steele Reserve and ate a can of luke warm beans in the woods behind a church. The next day I arrived in Rehoboth Delaware where I called Shelly and bawled my eyes out. So lonely. I took a bus home, and couldn't have been happier to drink beer and watch live music that night.
In 2007, I planned a trip well in advance. Nat took time off to join in on the ride, and the trip had some great moments and memories. We rode for about a month, going from Philadelphia to Montreal, and spending plenty of time in Burlington Vermont. Nat's bicycle was stolen and it was time for me to continue alone. We'd already talked about contingencies, and this was in the playbook. Solo bicycle travel was always what I wanted to do, but I didn't have a track record of success.
We parted ways the next day. Nat invited me out to lunch, but my heart was beating heavily and all I could think about was getting out of town. It was as though I thought I could outrun an anxiety attack if I pedaled fast enough.
I bought the best bivy sack that I could find (GoreTex and everything), and I mailed our tent back home. Then the scramble began. I ended up doing back-to-back century rides, even after getting food poisoning during the second day. I ended up delirious and malnourished before deciding that Val D'or Quebec was far enough. I took a bus home, and still have yet to see Nemaska. I considered this trip a success. I rode for at least a week or two alone, and knew that with this experience I could only do better the next time. I still wanted there to be a next time.
I remember my next tour as a happy success. I traveled north again with the loose goal of reaching Nemaska. It is well documented on this same blog. I rode my favorite bicycle, my Diamondback Outlook. It's not a bicycle which touring experts recommend, but I wanted to ride the one that makes me happy. I rode long distance on inexpensive equipment, and I had a grand time. I met the best people, saw the best scenery, and I think about it all the time. I could have been more disciplined about nourishment and booze-intake, but the adventure can't be replicated and I am still proud of the undertaking.
Now I am ready for a new adventure. I'm riding the Diamondback again, and I'm ready to capture the beautiful moments that we miss in our daily stagnant lifestyles. I know these trips can be bonkers to get started. I know there will be times when I feel beat up and abused by sun, weather, traffic and soreness. I'm at peace with it. We'll see where I get, and what it looks like when I'm there.
If you're planning a trip, don't don't be ashamed if you end up lonely and bawling on a cell phone, or have an anxiety attack over a broken spoke. We're humans, and these trips have high emotional stakes for some of us. You need to cross through the adversity to get to the sweet parts. Take it slow. Don't rush. Remember to eat properly.
Back to the church. Back to today. I was laying on my back feeling lonely and overwhelmed. The morning started cold, and the winds were strong and gusty. I cussed and strained as I dragged myself up hill after hill moving at a walking pace. I was out of shape, and the rolling hills were beating me up. I was glad to just be sore with no sharp pains.
I sat up in the grass and drank some more water. I threw a leg over my bicycle and continued.
My destination was Baltimore. As beat up as I felt, I was only halfway there. I crawled along and ticked off the miles. I had a bag of food, and once I refilled my water bottles at a Royal Farms, I began to open aluminum foil packets and bring out the goods. I packed two small tacos with rice, beans, and some roast beef. I brought hot sauce, and I made sure to use it. Miles later, I had a tough PBJ that I made four days ago. Delicious. My wonderful mother snuck in a couple ham and cheese sandwiches made on dinner rolls. These by far were the best thing in the food bag. I bought a 24oz Coke to go along, and that brought my total daily expenditure to exactly $1.49.
Then...
Baltimore! Mi amor! To see the name of the city in bold colorful print was a welcome sight. It was on an underpass as I entered the city limits. I did it. I thought I might snap a muscle first, but I made it, and I actually felt pretty good. 80 miles was a tough ride, but I had that in me and more.
I made it to my host's home just as she was about to leave. She races sailboats in the inner harbor, and I was welcome to hang out and watch. A dinner shindig was included, so I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. While she raced, I helped set up for the Cinco-de-Mayo-themed after party. There were legit make-your-own tacos, and the margaritas had real live alcohol. I had a few of those, and a couple Modelo's for good measure. Serendipity is one of my favorite words. Having good people to stay with at the beginning of a trip is a fantastic way to start.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Bananna Pancakes to Bicycle Business
I woke up early on the couch in Baltimore. Me and my hosts kinda hit it off, and I know their cat liked me. It's strange to think how we could be friends, but if we were neighbors we might not know each others names. In a city, you often don't know your neighbors in spite of similarities and shared interests. You're lucky to get a name. But these girls got up early to put butter in a pan. We talked some more and shared a plate of pancakes before I loaded up my gear and hit the road.
Baltimore is a beautiful town. As per suggestion, I went up on the big hill overlooking the city and the harbor. Then I descended to the harbor and looked at it all from another angle.
I felt good to get started, but the bottom fell out of feeling good after a few miles. By the time I arrived in Annapolis, I could feel the pain.
My good friend Nick is more of a bicycle dude than anyone else who I know. Our specific bicycle interests overlap thoroughly, and the casual enthusiast will have to take my word that it's a little uncanny to find such a dude. He's been dating Lael for awhile, and all three of us spent a lot of time together in Key West.
Now Nick is living over toward the east here in Annapolis. He got a job at Velo Orange, and that's where I met him directly when I got into town. I got a tour of the place, and I got to see a spiffy new cassette hub design from Taiwan. I got to see a new fork for their Polyvalent bicycle that is raked much prettier than the last one. It wasn't a busy day, and we stood around as a bunch of color swatches were flipped through. They seemed to be leaning toward a boring gray. I didn't bother to mention my preference for a hot pink, or a gold sparkle. I just admitted I was color blind.
My bicycle was leaned on the side of the building, and it doesn't look like a rich man's ride. It's as cheap as can be, and it's on the small side. I was a bit sheepish about it, but I know that it is my ideal machine. It's tough to convince some people that cheap old bicycles can be comfortable and useful, and usually I don't bother to try.
I'm staying here for the weekend, and I'm happy to be among friends. I haven't seen Lael since Key West, and she's too good to miss for that long.
I stayed up late with Nick and another guy from VO. The bicycle talk was thick, but everyone was fluent in the language, and it seems like the subject never dies.
I woke up early on the couch in Baltimore. Me and my hosts kinda hit it off, and I know their cat liked me. It's strange to think how we could be friends, but if we were neighbors we might not know each others names. In a city, you often don't know your neighbors in spite of similarities and shared interests. You're lucky to get a name. But these girls got up early to put butter in a pan. We talked some more and shared a plate of pancakes before I loaded up my gear and hit the road.
Baltimore is a beautiful town. As per suggestion, I went up on the big hill overlooking the city and the harbor. Then I descended to the harbor and looked at it all from another angle.
I felt good to get started, but the bottom fell out of feeling good after a few miles. By the time I arrived in Annapolis, I could feel the pain.
My good friend Nick is more of a bicycle dude than anyone else who I know. Our specific bicycle interests overlap thoroughly, and the casual enthusiast will have to take my word that it's a little uncanny to find such a dude. He's been dating Lael for awhile, and all three of us spent a lot of time together in Key West.
Now Nick is living over toward the east here in Annapolis. He got a job at Velo Orange, and that's where I met him directly when I got into town. I got a tour of the place, and I got to see a spiffy new cassette hub design from Taiwan. I got to see a new fork for their Polyvalent bicycle that is raked much prettier than the last one. It wasn't a busy day, and we stood around as a bunch of color swatches were flipped through. They seemed to be leaning toward a boring gray. I didn't bother to mention my preference for a hot pink, or a gold sparkle. I just admitted I was color blind.
My bicycle was leaned on the side of the building, and it doesn't look like a rich man's ride. It's as cheap as can be, and it's on the small side. I was a bit sheepish about it, but I know that it is my ideal machine. It's tough to convince some people that cheap old bicycles can be comfortable and useful, and usually I don't bother to try.
I'm staying here for the weekend, and I'm happy to be among friends. I haven't seen Lael since Key West, and she's too good to miss for that long.
I stayed up late with Nick and another guy from VO. The bicycle talk was thick, but everyone was fluent in the language, and it seems like the subject never dies.
Baltimore is a beautiful town. As per suggestion, I went up on the big hill overlooking the city and the harbor. Then I descended to the harbor and looked at it all from another angle.
I felt good to get started, but the bottom fell out of feeling good after a few miles. By the time I arrived in Annapolis, I could feel the pain.
My good friend Nick is more of a bicycle dude than anyone else who I know. Our specific bicycle interests overlap thoroughly, and the casual enthusiast will have to take my word that it's a little uncanny to find such a dude. He's been dating Lael for awhile, and all three of us spent a lot of time together in Key West.
Now Nick is living over toward the east here in Annapolis. He got a job at Velo Orange, and that's where I met him directly when I got into town. I got a tour of the place, and I got to see a spiffy new cassette hub design from Taiwan. I got to see a new fork for their Polyvalent bicycle that is raked much prettier than the last one. It wasn't a busy day, and we stood around as a bunch of color swatches were flipped through. They seemed to be leaning toward a boring gray. I didn't bother to mention my preference for a hot pink, or a gold sparkle. I just admitted I was color blind.
My bicycle was leaned on the side of the building, and it doesn't look like a rich man's ride. It's as cheap as can be, and it's on the small side. I was a bit sheepish about it, but I know that it is my ideal machine. It's tough to convince some people that cheap old bicycles can be comfortable and useful, and usually I don't bother to try.
I'm staying here for the weekend, and I'm happy to be among friends. I haven't seen Lael since Key West, and she's too good to miss for that long.
I stayed up late with Nick and another guy from VO. The bicycle talk was thick, but everyone was fluent in the language, and it seems like the subject never dies.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Fours and Futures: a beautiful day in Annapolis
It couldn't be a more beautiful day. No small change in detail could make this weather even the slightest bit better. Nick and Lael and I rode around on an errand run, and my bicycle feels nimble and as light as a feather without the copious amount of gear and electronics I've been schlepping around. We cruised around Annapolis; friction shifting, platform pedals, leather saddles. We cruised easily with confidence, and this is what everyone who doesn't ride bicycles is missing. I couldn't live without these times.
We stopped by Parole Liquors for some Four Loko and a nasty 40oz beer. Uh huh. Lael had to work, but me an Nick made it to the woods later overlooking the water. We had our first meeting about the component business we're going to start. We discussed a couple designs that don't exist, but should. The ideas have a niche market, and we're both confident of success if the components can be made affordably and to a high standard. More about that shit later.
We had our extremely important meeting about this future endevor while drinking Four from a mug until the mosquitos got word. Then we exited the park and dropped in on Lael at work. She's a server. She served us lots of beer and a gourmet pizza while we sat on a patio getting further and further goosed. Nick's friend from VO joined us, and I told him how much he was wrong about properly adjusting an AW hub. Then we cruised back to the apartment, and I took a sideways detour into some gravel and split my palm open a little.
It was a rad night. I listened to some of the new tunes on my iPod, and so far I'm impressed. I stayed up until 4am when Lael finally got back into the house. Then I slept.
It couldn't be a more beautiful day. No small change in detail could make this weather even the slightest bit better. Nick and Lael and I rode around on an errand run, and my bicycle feels nimble and as light as a feather without the copious amount of gear and electronics I've been schlepping around. We cruised around Annapolis; friction shifting, platform pedals, leather saddles. We cruised easily with confidence, and this is what everyone who doesn't ride bicycles is missing. I couldn't live without these times.
We stopped by Parole Liquors for some Four Loko and a nasty 40oz beer. Uh huh. Lael had to work, but me an Nick made it to the woods later overlooking the water. We had our first meeting about the component business we're going to start. We discussed a couple designs that don't exist, but should. The ideas have a niche market, and we're both confident of success if the components can be made affordably and to a high standard. More about that shit later.
We had our extremely important meeting about this future endevor while drinking Four from a mug until the mosquitos got word. Then we exited the park and dropped in on Lael at work. She's a server. She served us lots of beer and a gourmet pizza while we sat on a patio getting further and further goosed. Nick's friend from VO joined us, and I told him how much he was wrong about properly adjusting an AW hub. Then we cruised back to the apartment, and I took a sideways detour into some gravel and split my palm open a little.
It was a rad night. I listened to some of the new tunes on my iPod, and so far I'm impressed. I stayed up until 4am when Lael finally got back into the house. Then I slept.
We stopped by Parole Liquors for some Four Loko and a nasty 40oz beer. Uh huh. Lael had to work, but me an Nick made it to the woods later overlooking the water. We had our first meeting about the component business we're going to start. We discussed a couple designs that don't exist, but should. The ideas have a niche market, and we're both confident of success if the components can be made affordably and to a high standard. More about that shit later.
We had our extremely important meeting about this future endevor while drinking Four from a mug until the mosquitos got word. Then we exited the park and dropped in on Lael at work. She's a server. She served us lots of beer and a gourmet pizza while we sat on a patio getting further and further goosed. Nick's friend from VO joined us, and I told him how much he was wrong about properly adjusting an AW hub. Then we cruised back to the apartment, and I took a sideways detour into some gravel and split my palm open a little.
It was a rad night. I listened to some of the new tunes on my iPod, and so far I'm impressed. I stayed up until 4am when Lael finally got back into the house. Then I slept.
