despite being pretty grueling, the FFBC PRIMAVERA METRIC CENTURY was one of the best event rides that i’ve ever been on, and WR and i agreed that it was one of the best that TLTC had participated in, ever.

for the most part, this was the kind of ride we love and do with regularity — dozens of miles of long, winding rollies. that’s my favorite kind of ride because you have to be on your toes (cornering) and you can’t pussyfoot (climbing and descending the rollies takes effort), but you don’t kill yourself. you put in good work and you feel like you’ve had a ride, but you’re not blown out and useless for a day.

however, on this ride there were two distinct factors that we knew about going in. one was the heat. it was fucking desert hot. the sun just crushing you with almost tangible weight. this also means that you’re covered in sunscreen, which makes you filthy, and when it runs into your eyes, blind. the other factor was the climbs. with 3786 climbing feet over 63.5 miles, it SOUNDS like it would be a challenging but not necessarily backbreaking ride. but keep in mind that 2300 of those climbing feet are in two individual climbs — "the wall," at mile 18, and another at mile 50. because we knew we were going to be facing these challenges (and because i’d had a throat infection for a week and was still on antibiotics), each of us had outfitted out bikes with a bailout gear, like so…

my regular gear ratio is 44/16, which is a nice middleground 72.3 gear inch. the bailout shown above takes me to 44/20, which is a 57.9 gear inch — baby’s first climber. please note that i also carry an extra couple chain links to accommodate this bigger cog. my chain is outfitted with a master link, as is the extra section, so swapping doesn’t take me long at all. it proved to be a good decision. "the wall" is 1100 feet straight up, over barely 2 miles. "not for babies," as our brothers of HYPE down south would say. it stops guys on full cassettes, and we were fixed. given that fact, coupled with the heat, and trebled with the fact that we’d still have another 40-some miles to go afterwards, we didn’t even try it on our regular gearing, we just swapped at the bottom and proceeded. and even with this climbing gear, i was beat up at the top of that climb. covered in sweat, pushing hard, and moving slowly. but we both made it, and that’s what counts. then we flipped back to the other side for the next 30 miles or so.

we’d hooked up with TLTC supersoldier jefe, who was ghosting the ride, just before the wall, and he made it up and over with us (on his fucking BADASS klein road bike), as well as another few miles before he had the same catastrophic derailleur failure that WR had on the grand fondo some months back. his derailleur caught in the spokes and was torn upwards and apart in a millisecond. luckily for him, it happened on an ascent rather than a descent. we pulled over and endeavored to convert him to a single-speed so he could at least limp into the next town, but his shit was HOSED and it wasn’t happening, so we begrudgingly left him there with a promise to call his old lady once we got a signal, which WR did. jefe also lucked out when SAG brought him down into town, despite the fact that he wasn’t a registered rider. so everything worked out great there.

the only other mechanical we had was when WR threw a chain. turns out his axle bearing race (which is a misnomer, as he has sealed bearings, but it’s still called that because it has the exterior locknut) had come loose on his last wheel swap, allowing for his axle nut to loosen up over a few miles. once we identified the issue, he was good to go in a matter of seconds.

at mile 50 we hit the second climb, which was a different story. it was also 1000 or so feet of climbing, but this time was over a more realistic 5 miles. as such, we went into it without the intent of switching gears. we pushed up a mile or maybe even two, muscling along in our standard gear inch. we pushed and pushed, but every single time we’d round a corner, it kept going. there was never an end in sight, and that gets to you mentally. for me, it was when i finally got to a point that i could see a good 100 yards ahead and it was still going up that i decided to switch gears. ordinarily that would fuck with me but not push me to bail out. it was because at the terminus of that 100 yards, where it turned another corner, i saw a cyclist coming down the hill, whipping around the corner at speed. that meant that there was even more. and keep in mind that we’d been going for 50 miles in 90-plus degree heat, plus the previous climb. and it was a good thing that i did pull over to switch because i needed to take off my helmet & cap, as well as open up my jersey and down half a bottle of water. i was more burnt than i thought. additionally, after i did switch, there was no more shade till you got to the top. that’s a big deal. had i kept pushing through that on my regular gear, i’d have opened myself up to heat stroke.

at the top, once again, we swapped back to our regular gearing, which would take us all the way back to the start for another road ride conquered by the TLTC west coast commanders in a fixed fashion. we’re killing it these days, and getting known for it, and we fucking love it.

ordinarily when we show up on "fixies" to road rides we are met with a mix of admiration and indignation. some people condescend to us with passive-aggressive observations like "that’s just stupid," or "why would you do that?" others tell us that we’re awesome, or, as on this ride, "animals." we take it all in stride because we’re just out to have fun and challenge ourselves. we try and remain good-natured about it when people are shitheads, and we try to normalize it to others when they contend that we’re doing something impossible. but on this ride, it was extra nice because we didn’t really get any of the indignation. we were the only two people doing it fixed and we got a lot of props for it. people cheered us on and congratulated us and even wanted to talk to us about how and why we were doing it. it was really nice, a very cool community on this ride.

one of the greatest things about the day was the support and organization. with the possible exception of ALC, this was the best-supported and organized event ride i’d ever been on. there were enough SAG vehicles, the rest stops never felt overcrowded, nor were they ever out of any food/liquid supplies or medical/mechanical aid. it was really wonderful. nevermind that we had access to a pretty large meal at the end. lasagne, hot dogs, salad, fruit, juice, brownies, cookies, whatever we wanted. very awesome.

the one improvement that we offered as a suggestion was that they could have used a bit more clear route direction, but that was suggested with a caveat — the route WAS marked clearly, it was just marked on the road surface with spraypaint rather than on trees and such with signage. not everyone knew to look to the pavement rather than to signs. i figured it out early on and had no troubles at all, but others didn’t know about it, so we suggested that they just make that better known.

i was also happy to have made a new friend on the ride. this guy here saw me taking pictures of him so he strutted over and regarded me…

a great day and a great ride. and stay tuned to this link, because i have video at home that i have to edit down and post.

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So the Primavera Century is coming up this weekend, and Lung and I are doing it fixed. At first, I was gung-ho without much attention tot he details only because:
a) we ride fixed everywhere, frequently climbing
2) we rode to LA without an issue
d) fackit

But I started thinking about the last few times I did this event… the Calaveras Road section has ‘the wall’ which is just one of three big climbs of the day… I remember this being an issue for many of the road riders, let alone a couple of dorks on fixies. I got through it, and the other climbs, using my usual double-ring road bike config, but in thinking about muscling up those on a fixed gear, three details emerged:
a) it’s one thing to muscle up a climb, as we often do. It’s another thing to blow that much anaerobic resource on a long day of riding, headwinds and heat and other climbs to follow
2) I recently upgeared to 76*
d) ohfack

Additionally, I haven’t overhauled Crook Type 3 pretty much since I built it up after ALC… and that’s far too long. I rotate through bikes (at one point, 8 of them) in my commute, so the more rigorous overhaul isn’t as necessary for me or as frequent anyway as it is for Lung, riding the same bike every day with few exceptions. And I’ve done several maintenance and corrections evenings, spot-overhauling parts of it. But the creaks int he bottom bracket were joined by some ping-pings recently, and my brake pads were stubs. So it was time to do it up.

I didn’t COMPLETELY overhaul it in the sense that I didn’t break it down to it’s complete extrusion photo level of strippage, but I did the primary stuff: complete drivetrain overhaul, brakes, all bolts and major adjustments. All I didn’t do is pull the 17 off, as I recently put it on, and I didn’t break down the headset.

I’m now whisper silent. I mean, I still have the minor chatter of chainline issues, but the bike itself is a ninja again (a green and white and elkhide and chainline-chattering ninja)… it hasn’t been this quiet since I built it. So smooth. And it’s of course all thanks to judicious applications of my best pal in the shop:

Ole Phil never lets me down…

As far as the Primavera goes, what I ended up electing to do is keep the 76 on the one side, and add a 19 cog on the other, which gets me to around 67. So the total rig is not as nimble as Lung’s 72/03 (or whatever that 21 gets him) but at least we both have a climbing gear to fall back on as needed, one way or another.

I rode the hills by my house a few times on the new cog to get cinched, per the usual routine, and rode in on it, which was sort of torturous, not unlike trying to spend much high-cadence saddle time on Rapscallion with it’s 20 cog (baby bikery) but I really wanted to give it some time to settle in. I will say it’s nimble to climb with it.

Excelsior!
*I’ve been saying it was 77 but I checked and it actually rounds to 76, my bad. 48/17

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Second time climbing Loring on the bigger inchgear and I have to say, it was easier. I went up from 72 to 77, and definitely enjoy the speed on the flats on this frame, but man, yeah, climbing is tougher. So, my dilemma is this: Primavera Century is this Sunday, and Lung and I are doing it fixed. Lung just dropped back down to 72. I’m wondering if I should do the same, or at least throw it on the other side of the hub, so we are timed, like on ALC, for similar cadence on flats and climbs. I think there’s enough climbing on Primavera to make this 77 a tough nut…

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Jon Howell is one of those folks I ‘met’ through a social netoworking site (not fecesbook) through shared interests of technology, illustration and bikes. He is preparing to do Aids Lifecycle this summer, and in the process, decided to get his rear in gear by becoming a Training Ride Leader.

Now, I’ve hosted a ton of rides over the years, and I’ve hosted them fast, slow and in between. But what struck me, reading his ride journals, is that a TRL has a unique challenge: they have to account for the fast AND the slow in the same ride. It’s part of what I love about ALC: riders of all skill levels and experience find their way down to LA. So, in a recent post about being sweep on one of these rides, he pointed out a frustrating setback: he spent all this energy and motivation to build up his endurance and expectations for faster, longer rides… and now, as TRL, has to find a a way to UNWIND that potential energy, because he’s waiting for much slower riders to catch up.

It’s an intriguing detail but one that I think offers him good practice for ALC as a whole: while on a symbolic level the mix of fast and slow riders is a good thing, in literal application, I think coming to the ride trained and ready to blast off like a rocket, but still being able to cool your jets as it were, is a very sound thing. Because we saw many riders on ALC 9 that bombed at every opportunity, creating pacelines, riding two deep, breaking traffic laws, all much like they would on a fast group ride competing for time. And those riders put other, inexperienced, overwhelmed riders at risk. That pissed me off. Now, B and I rode ALC on fixed gears, so you’d think we would be in the slow camp but in actuality, we were among the faster riders on any given day. However, we didn’t NEED to be, and we frequently slowed for traffic conditions, to talk and support other riders, and to experience the event more fully. It’s not a race.

So, I think Jon inadvertently learned something critical to more fully realizing the experience of ALC: take it at different paces, have confidence in your endurance, and enjoy it moment by moment. Because for every awesome cluster of roadside supporters waving flags and bells and throwing cookies at you, there’s 20 miles of overcooked Salinas heatwave highway. If you treat that ride like a time trial, you not only ruin it for others, but you suck the joy out of it for yourself.

Good on Jon for being a TRL and for doing ALC!

You can read more here:
http://jonathan-howell.tumblr.com/post/ … /ride-3-18

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The other day, when I was lamenting not getting to ride in the rain (who does that) I noted that I’d post about my ride kit for rain days. I have a base kit that goes with me every day (if all goes as according to plan) including tools, spare stuff, a compressed shopping bag/ backpack, an asthma inhaler for emergencies, and a Heat Bullet. But I also have special sub kits that are conditional. For example, a cold weather kit, certain toolkit adds depending on bike being used, and so on. One such conditional kit is my rain kit.

I keep the other kits bundled in parcels in another container but this one gets a bin of its own.
Within:

- Pair of old Vittoria 1975s (these are the ones that got me to LA and were recently retired as the heels are breaking down) which I use for rain conditions these days.

- Waterproof ankle booties

- Clear waterproof jacket (large enough to cover a backpack)

- Brooks saddle cover

- Helmet cover (a new edition)

I’ve used the rain jacket several times, but the saddle cover I’ve always been too lazy to use. Now that I’m riding in the rain on a regular basis though, I’m finally using it properly. To be fair, previously my rain rides were on the baby bike, Rapscallion, with the baby seat removed, and that has an old Brooks saddle beyond help, and no other leather goods on it. But now that I’m riding any and all bikes, I wanted to take better care of the gear. Of course, leather doesn’t dissolve in rain, as many an animal will confirm for you. But it does stretch and such, something less desirable for saddles and bar wrap. Ironically enough, I had TWO of these saddle protectors when I did ALC and didn’t bring them. Subsequently the bikes were wet a few mornings as they were racked in the open.

Here’s that rain helmet cover. I never had one of these before. I never saw the need. But then again, I never deliberately rode in the rain. Sure, I’ve been caught out in the rain on long rides before, and whatever, you get wet. But one annoying thing about vented bike helmets is that eventually that water gets through your cap and then you get really soaked, water down the face etc… especially when one has no hair. So, not for your typical light rain day, but for a day like today, when I left the house in pouring rain? It makes a world of difference.

Here’s one of those Brooks Saddle protectors. It has an elastic rim, and then a cinch in back, as well as a clever velcro strap that you can secure on a seat rail just in case.

The remaining component of my rain kit is the fold-down European fender. I love this thing.

I was behind schedule last night so I brought the bike up to the house and then remembered it was on the deck, around 11pm, so I pulled it in the house and gave it a wipe down. In the morning, it was a feature item for my daughter, who helped get her mother and brother awake through the repeated use of the bell. As is her wont.

Yesterday was a light rain day. Today was a POURING rain day. And I had a great ride in. Yesterday was wrongbike, as above, and today was Crook. Good stuff!

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I was doing some deep cleaning in my bikery stuff in the cloffice, organizing the clothes drawers and the wet kit and the cold kit, etc, and found this tightly wrapped bag from ALC. Within, an assortment of the things that generally got me through Aids Lifecycle: my precious fruit-based gummis, which I used like power pellets; lip balm (well, this one’s iffy, since I burned myself the first day and spent the rest of the week with zinc oxide all over my face, hence the nickname ‘powdered donut’…) and butt butter.

GOOD STUFF!

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I hate changing tyres. At least I used to. You have to understand, this comes from twin unpleasant scenarios: too many field tyre changes that usually involved two or three tubes due to pinch flats or valve collap; and home changes where I fought with deep, tight road wheel clincher rims and kevlar bead tyres until my fingers fell off. But a few weeks ago, I went to switch out front wheels on Crook, and it went so smoothly that I decided to take on another wheel with some issues, and that went well too. So, it appeared like my curse was lifted. So last night, I went to town on ALL my remaining wheel projects, while BBQing ‘Honest Dogs’.

Step 01: Beverage. It’s been an unseasonably warm weekend (and new week) here in Northern California, and I spent a lot of it outdoors with the kids, though not riding. So I was in a cool, refreshing drink mood. Hence, sangria for the people.

My tasks were pretty straight-forward: New rear wheel on Crook, so new rubber going on that one; replacing the rubber on the front wheel to match, because I’m a matchy-mcmatch dork, which sort of goes against fixie-hipster science; pulled the white tyres off of the white track wheels, and the black/white Everwears off of the black wheels, because I was inspired at 3am to go white on black, and not in a SugarDVD capacity. Necessarily. Lots of taking off of one rim and applying to another rim, lots of opportunities for exploding tubes and mayhem. Also, kids running around, alcohol and open flame. And a knife. And ladybugs, which are in mating season.

One area in which Lung and I differ is the aesthetics of the THICKSLICK tyres that were released by Freedom last fall. He doesn’t like the big lower case goofy font branding. I actually like it, because it evokes the fat tires of drag racers I saw as a kid (well, saw on TV or whatever) where they had similar lettering. I think it’s cool that the lettering works it’s way down to the contact area of the tyre. I love love love slicks. And after beating myself up skidding on Gatorskin Hardshells (the super-beefy kevlar contis I swear by for distance riding on road bikes and on this bike, even beefier than normal Gatorskins) and basically wasting them, I thought I’d have fun with a fire-and-forget skid tyre.

ThickSlicks are interesting. There’s more there there than I originally thought. I assumed these were cheap rubber tyres like Vittoria Randos that are so soft you can draw on the sidewalk with them on hot days, right. But according to folks I know around town, even the basic model (the Sport version I’m using, vs the beefier kevlar Elite model) lasts forever, even skidding. It’s the principle of mass and how they built the section up. It’s a thick tyre. Noticeably so. And much heavier than others, as a result. They went on pretty easily (after muscling my nearly new Gatorskins off) and look great. And, as of this morning, I can tell you they skid even BETTER.

This was the other project: I took the black Chukker wheels that Joe at 718c made me for the baby bike, Rapscallion, and put white track rubber on them. That bike is getting repainted matte black to match the original frame for that project (the Mixte) so i thought it would be a neat look. They look pretty boss to me.

No explosions, no lacerations, no deaths. Big deal, some tyre swaps. But this is an area in which Chiaramonte’s Misfortune Principle generally applies in quantity. So yay.

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pretty long one for what it is, but i’m in a hotel room kinda bored and extremely worn out, so there you go.

mid-last year, i found out that the NORTH AMERICAN HANDMADE BICYCLE SHOW was going to be held in sacramento, which is about 100 miles from san francisco, and i immediately decided to go. then about 3 months ago – i decided to RIDE there.

it’s impossible to do the ride directly from san francisco without going such an indirect route that it becomes something like 150 or 200 miles. but you can take BART and do it from anywhere in the east bay. when i first plotted the course, it was from the richmond BART station, and was going to be about 80 miles. but then i found out about another route, from the pittsburg/bayPoint station, which was 10 miles shorter and had far less climbs. now anyone who knows me knows that a 10 mile difference isn’t enough to make me change my mind about a route, nor is a few hundred feet difference in elevation. but a couple things came to mind. one, i was doing this unsupported. and as a result of that, two, i was gonna be carrying all my gear. an 80 mile ride is one thing. an 80 mile ride with a 30 pound pack on is a WHOLE other story. so i opted for the shorter ride.

i posted on my facebook page that myself and a buddy of mine were planning the ride and offered people to join. a friend of mine that i hadn’t seen in several years and her boyfriend wanted to get in, so now we were up to 4. but then my friend who originally helped me plan the trip bailed out in order to do the MASHSF time trial race to NAHBS, which was on saturday. fuck that noise, i don’t ride to compete, and i wanted to stay more than one day. so now we were down to three. and we finished all the planning and got everything sorted and met at the BART station this morning. but when we got there, we found that there was a facebook group who’d also planned to take the ride together – about a dozen of them – and they were all SO fucking cool that we decided to do the ride together.

the group was made up of a number of different types of cyclists. randonneurs, roadies, commuters — just people who really like bikes. there was no attitude, no competition, they were just fun-loving people. some were kitted up, some rocked street clothes, and some rolled as i do — street clothes over top of kits. some had racks and panniers, some had backpacks. some were women and some were men. some were friends and some were strangers. it was amazing. and what was really cool was that MANY of them either currently worked in, or used to work in bike shops. so these were people who knew what the fuck was up with tech, too. VERY fucking cool.

when our trip started, i thought it was going to be the easiest goddamn thing ever. we were on an off-street path for something like 10 miles, no other bicycle traffic, very little people traffic, zero cars, and it rolled and twisted throughout.

it was awesome, except that 5 minutes in, i heard ssISSssISSssISSssISSss… fuck. flat. i wasn’t taking any chances so i changed my tube AND tyre in the fastest tyre change you have EVER seen and we were back on the road.

after that 10 miles or whatever it was, we were on a road alongside traffic and it was still pretty mellow. no climbs, smooth road, wide shoulder, very good for city-to-city distance rides. this lasted about 2 miles or so and then we saw it rising in front of us — the antioch bridge. now this bridge looks pretty ominous, almost like the first hill of a roller coaster, which you clack-clack-clack up until being pitched over the precipice.

(this is the backside of the bridge, after crossing, but you get the point.)

but i quickly noticed something. the antioch bridge is one lane in each direction, with a shoulder that’s got sleeper strips on one side and grates on the other, and the lanes are separated from each other by a 4-foot wall or so — same as what’s on the outside of the shoulder. you’re essentially in a slot-car track, trapped into a 2-foot-wide section of shoulder, and constantly battered by the blasts of wind coming off the semis that are whipping by at 70. inside those walls, those wind blasts are no bullshit. they push you out one second and pull you back in the next. oh wait, did i mention the headwinds? yeah, as you start climbing up the bridge (which isn’t a super significant climb, maybe about 10% or less), you start noticing that as you get out over the water and away from the trees and buildings, the wind is getting greater and greater. by the time you’re midway up, it’s coming at you like you’ve never felt before. everyone was downshifting. everyone but the only person who couldn’t — me. i had no choice. i had to speed up. i pushed and pushed and pushed, sucking wind and struggling as the headwinds held my backpack like i was attached to my starting point with an elastic cord. as i got to the top, i thought i was set. i was going to descend. hahahaha, nope. the headwind was just as bad on the other side. so you know how on a fixed-gear, you have to pedal when you descend cause you can’t coast? well, even the geared people had to pedal down the other side because if you coasted, the headwind would, i shit you not, stop you. you were pedaling DOWNHILL, just to move. and don’t forget, you’re SCARED. you’re trapped and being blasted around and you don’t have much room to move and FUCK THAT. it is NOT for babies. i was out in the front this whole time because i had to be — i have only one speed. when i got to the bottom, i pulled over and turned around and the next nearest person was like 100 yards behind me. and when he pulled over, the next nearest person was 50 yards behind him. we all pulled over and chilled for about 10 minutes, laughing and sharing stories of fear before we moved on. but that headwind was it now. that would be our companion for the next 40 miles.

as we continued along, despite the headwind, we all started to get to know a bit about each other, to goof around, just having a good time. but the road conditions were OBSCENE. there was glass and gravel everywhere. there were sections of shoulder that had started to tear away, leaving 8-inch-wide jagged tears that were up to 20 feet long. there were sleeper strips and foliage and roadkill and just so much shit it was ridiculous.

eventually, we got to roughly the halfway point, where there lies a small frontier town called isleton. i say "frontier town" because it really was. one main street with buildings lining each side that looked as if they were straight out of the 1800s.

we’d heard from one of the town’s AMAZINGLY friendly locals that there was a cafe on the street that made good sammies, so we were in. (i’ve since come to find out from someone else who knows the town that there’s some bomb tamales [bombales?] in the back of the bodega across the way, too, so i’ll be keeping that in mind.) but yeah, seriously, large sandwiches for $5 a piece, made the way you want em, and ice cream for $0.50 a scoop, from one of sacramento’s most famous ice creameries, whose name i don’t recall right now. anyway, we intended to be there long enough to eat and digest, maybe an hour.

and right about 3 minutes before that time, one of the guys’ bikes’ rear tyre just exploded. no warning, it wasn’t even on it’s wheels, it was on it’s side. it just … blew up. so he pulled it off and discovered a missing section of rim tape right over a metal burr. he remedied that and patched the tube and the patch didn’t hold. he replaced the tube and put that on and that exploded. he patched it again and when he was pumping it up, the valve just sheared off. it was the craziest thing any of us had ever seen. FINALLY it was remedied, but this was now two hours of fucking around with it, so we’re now three hours down. NOT COOL. and during this time, i noticed a quarter-inch cut in the sidewall of my tyre. my tyre that i just put on brand new about 30 miles ago. i was getting ready to cut a boot out of the tyre i’d replaced, when one of the guys said he had a $0.25 BART card that i was welcome to, and those things are like kevlar, so i quicky booted my tyre. after all this, we headed off into the last 35 miles and we were pleasantly surprised to find that despite no shoulder, the road conditions were much improved and while there was still headwind, we were able to go at a good clip and knock it out.

by this time, my gear bag was starting to weigh heavy, and my legs were starting to feel the burn. over the next couple hours, i was really in a zone, just turning off the pain and turning over the cranks. at one point, i was ready to call it for 10 minutes and just rest, but i managed to HARDEN THE FUCK UP and make it through. our group had split apart into 3 factions at this point, as the less strong cyclists fell back, the experts shot ahead, and the intermediates … well, fell in the middle. as one of three of the people out front, myself and the two cyclists i was with were able to pull over and have a NICE rest while we waited for the intermediates to catch up. when they did, they said that one of the novices was bonking and another had a flat, and that they had said we should all go ahead. so we did. and as we pulled into sacramento, finally, at 6:15PM, we split off our separate ways to our separate hotels. a funny moment when i checked in was the desk grrl, noting my bike, says, "where did you ride from?" and even though it wasn’t ENTIRELY true, i said "san francisco." and her jaw drops and she looks at me and goes, "really?" "yeah." "WOW." then she checks the computer and goes, "i have a room on the ground floor if you’d like." hahahahahahaha, i thought that shit was awesome. "yes. yes, i’d like that room very much, thank you." so i took a long hot shower, ran to the nearest market and picked up some food for my room’s fridge, and got settled in. i had high hopes of going out tonight, but that’s SO not gonna happen. i’m really beat.

now when you do a point-a-to-point-b ride (as opposed to a point-a-to-point-a LOOP), there are some distinct differences. as such, i was looking at this ride as very akin to a day on ALC, which is also a point-a-to-point-b ride. but there were a few key differences, and they were REALLY big because you’re unsupported except by your own group. here are some.

/ no SAG. i don’t SAG, but that’s just cause i’ve never needed too. if i needed to, if i was hurt or needed help, SAG would be a knight in shining armor. on a ride you do yourself, you get hurt? you better heal up, son. or call an ambulance. cause ain’t nobody coming to get you.
/ no maintenance. you have a mechanical, and you better hope you have the parts and the tools to fix it cause guess what? if you can’t, you’re walking it or you’re hitchhiking.
/ no rest stops. sure you can pull over for some grundle suffrage or some shade, but for the most part, when you run out of water and food, or when you need lunch, you better be near a town or at least a gas station cause guess what? you’re fucked otherwise.
/ NO GEAR TRUCKS. this was the biggest one for me because i don’t SAG, i always have enough tools and often have enough parts, and we had plenty of opportunity for food and water. but carrying your own gear is a fucking HUGE deal. every pedal stroke is twice as hard. climbs (even though there was really only one on this ride) are BRUTAL. grundle suffrage happens faster and is more painful. you run out of water faster cause you need to hydrate more. you’re less aerodynamic, so headwinds are even more of a big deal. it’s absolute hell.

overall, this ride was incredibly difficult and a generally flat 70 mile ride should not qualify as "incredibly difficult." it certainly shouldn’t qualify as "absolute hell." but listen, i had a great fucking time, don’t get me wrong. i met a ton of great people. i rode with a friend that i hadn’t seen in years and who i’ve never ridden with before. i commuted to a city 100 miles away from where i live. i carried my own shit and supported myself. i’m on a 4-day vacation from work. the weather was wonderful. i didn’t bonk or cramp.

in fact, i have to say that the only negatives (and i separate "negatives" from "challenges") were that i got sunburn on my calves (i started shaving my legs, so they’re less protected), i got a flat, found a sidewall tear, and at one point had to tighten my left cleat. not a bad haul!

in the end, i saluted sacramento the only way lope knows how — with special lubricants.

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I finally felt comfortable swapping out my front rim over the weekend on Crook Type 3, my Cinelli X MASH build. My previous black H+Son rim had a solid bare aluminum braking surface from that 12 mile descent on ALC 09, and it always bugged me, so I got a spare wheel to replace it, but was waiting until I started skidding to swap them out, in order to at least by some degree reduce the braking needs. So yay, I do the swap while I was changing some flats on other bikes, and lo, it looks sick. So, I ride in and am practicing skidding and apparently got some grit on the brake pads because I have fine streaks of color being removed. HA. Serves me right for all that vanity.
I thought maybe my brakes were toeing in but I adjusted them and the same occurred.

Oh well! At least the steerer was cut down and it’s a much safer, and once again sweet looking ride.

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When I read the AP item a few days ago that Gene Hackman was injured in a bike accident, I was concerned for him but also aggravated by the reporting. It referred to his lack of helmet, being airlifted to a hospital, and no charges or alcohol being involved. Sounded quite a bit like his injuries were his own fault for riding helmetless and that the accident was unavoidable.

http://www.theurbancountry.com/2012/01/ … n-his.html

I came across this article this morning, underscoring the same media bias that had concerned me. As they point out, Hackman was hit from BEHIND by a truck. There is no helmet law in that state. And he was airlifted because he was on an island.

I agree with the writer above: the press about Hackman’s accident illustrated the typical media bias about bike-related issues. Lots of misdirection and manipulation, likely very little of it a conscious effort on the part of the writer or editor. I’m the first to argue that helmets should always be worn (even when I skip it riding to coffee like a fool) and there’s no doubt in my mind that going down without one is of higher risk than going down with one. But the focus on his lack of helmet suggested that his injuries were his own fault, AND that they were head injuries, neither of which is necessarily true. The article takes the position I read all the time in accident reporting: no alcohol was apparently involved, so the driver couldn’t possibly be at fault because only impaired drivers assume responsibility. We are otherwise conveniently flawless behind the wheel.

Disgusting.

But get well soon, Royal!

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