motorman

The change of season is upon the people of the upper Midwest, and I could not be happier. This happiness is not due to a dislike of the cold darkness of winter or the fact the I change my clothes 1000 times daily when I commute through the snow. Rather it is rooted in what winter has become in Minnesota in recent years. The winters full of snow days and obscene wind chills have yielded to a season that produces 50 degree rainy Wednesdays in mid January followed by below freezing March snow storms. This behavior is simply not acceptable.

Fortunately, the sun is now on our side here at the 45th parallel. The temps are rising and the snow is retreating into the storm sewers and I have replaced the winter beater for the summer chugger. This traditional changing of the guard is a bit sad this year. For after 10 years of commendable service the Rock Hopper A1 has to retire. I wish this was not the case but due to the repair needs and the growing corrosion issue, it is more cost effective to invest in a new ride. Plus, motorwife has declared that she will no longer hold that title if I insist on riding a bicycle that is held together with more electrical tape than aluminum. So, however reluctant, the choice was relativity easy to decide.

As I deconstruct my faithful transporter, I think of all the great miles it has traveled. I remember a trip to see my grandfather weeks before his passing shortly after I purchased it to take advantage of some near by single tracks. He was not impressed with it. He was an auto mechanic from Norway and felt that I need way too many tools to keep it in tune. His bikes from his youth required two, a wrench and a screwdriver, he told me. Thank goodness for the multi-tool.

I remember taking it, knobby tires and all, on 80-plus-mile road trip with a couple of my roadie friends. The ride there was relatively effortless, but on the return trip I realized that’s what a 25 mile-an-hour tailwind will do. It was this trip where I realized the true benefit of the smooth tired road bikes. Later that summer, I was atop one of my own.

I remember one of my first party-story-worthy crashes. At the time I was working downtown and would race the length of a landmark Minneapolis street each evening tiring to beat every light and all the traffic traveling along with me. This is back in my reckless, I have nothing to lose days. During these daily races transit buses seemed to be able to pass me mid-block just in time to pull to the corner right in front of, obstructing my travel (Come to think of it that continues to happen). My response to this move in some areas was to jump onto the sidewalk to avoid the bus. One evening, after successfully completing this move many times, a car appeared from between two buildings onto the sidewalk directly in my path. I hit the brakes with to no avail and went flying across the hood (My first air travel). The glorious moment was when I came to rest on the sidewalk on the other side of the vehicle on my feet, unharmed. The driver jumped out, “How did you do that?” I responded, “I don’t know.” No damage do to either vehicle and no interest from either party to discuss matters further we part ways. Suffice it to say I learned something that day. Also, I noticed a sign installed shortly after the event warning of the crossing. I am not sure if I had anything to do with it, but I tell everyone that my stupidity probably did.

And, I will never forget the countless rides through 8 to 10 inches of fresh snow. Working 8 to 10 times harder and slower to arrive at my destination. The look of befuddlement from my colleagues on why anyone would want to do that made it worth the effort. This is one of the most rewarding part of the winter ride, in addition to beating cabin fever, relieving stress, not putting on 100 pounds, the environment and so on. But, being the craziest in your office, school, or your peer groups is really why we do it. Right?

Well, it was a great ride for a good number of years. I will keep the frame and if I come into some money and there is a cure for corrosion, I will rebuild. It is great however to ride a bike with reliable brakes and a derailleur.

Long live spring!

On my way home the other day I met foggy and drizzly weather. For some reason I generally enjoy the bike ride home in inclement weather – rain, snow, god-awful cold, you understand the type – but yesterday I was enjoying the ride because a year ago at this time I was in a shoulder immobilizer. If you have never had the pleasure of a shoulder immobilizer it is especially pleasant when you are trying to sleep.

I was in this awful situation because a few days earlier on my way to work a car turned in from of me and before I knew it I was airborne. Now I bet you are expecting me to lament on the crash, how cars do not see bicycles and haw bicyclists are always in the right. That will be in another post and really I do not think that way we all have a role … like I wrote, another post.

I was airborne on a pleasant October morning – 50+ degrees – sunny – calm winds – no advanced notice of the flight – no ticket. What confuses me a year later is that from the time I realized that there was nothing I could do and I was going to collide with the front panel of some chevy sedan, like a rock, my reaction was unexpected, kind of, but still troubling. As I flew through the air my thoughts are not on the impending fear of impact but a slow motion examination on how I am going to make contact with the ground. Will it be the crash where the helmet splits? Will it be the time where I land on my feet, again? Or will it be the time from which I spend the next decade in elementary school gyms explaining the virtues of bicycle safety education?

I hit a primary downtown street surface scapula first, body second, bicycle a distant third to add insult. For those unaware or as forgetful of seventh grade health as I, scapula equals shoulder blade. Break it and the next three months are reserved for pastries, tortilla chips, and other evil foodstuffs in the face of the physician directed placid lifestyle.

As I leaped up from the asphalt I quickly inventoried the gear – head intact, coffee in the pannier a loss, no broken limbs well not at first check – then in between profanities I notice a man on the sidewalk coming to me asking if I am alright. I respond, “Did you see that, I bet it looked awesome.” As a group was gathering around me I all I was interested in is whether someone was able to take a picture.

Is it right to think about the action video that could have been or to think of your health. Hard to know. I do know this watch out for turning cars and if someone did take a picture send it my way.