Damn Inferior Earthling Technology

The saga of the Red Trek took another left hand turn today when my front-derailleur cable snapped when I was accelerating up Skinker. I probably have needed to replace the housing for some time, but being me I have just ignored the stiff shifting and gone on luck... The cable snapped right at the shifter and the little stop that catches in the shifter went flying. I have pulled the cable out, and the end of the cable is frayed and a little rusty. Bummer. The question now is, do I have a spare shifter cable at the house? The Heisenberg uncertainty principle, as it applies to bike parts, states that you can know that you need a part, but cannot know if you posess it, or conversely, you can know you posess a part but not know if you need it. Crap. I guess I am walking to the bike shop. At least I can stop by Meshuggah for the happy afternoon coffee on my way home.

Do Tyres Flat in Threes?

I haven't been riding much lately. I went to the laundry last weekend on the road bike and when I came out I had a flat rear. Since I don't haul tools or a pump with me anymore, I simply walked home, put away my laundry and got distracted. Since I have another bike, I rode that instead, until I worked up the energy to change the flat. When I changed the tube (it had a nasty puncture) I assumed that it was a one off thing, hazard of riding on the road. Of course the next afternoon, I jumped on the bike for a late-afternoon spin around the park, got half a mile from the house, and flatted. After walking home and cursing for a while, I pulled the tube, inflated it and located, you guessed it, a nasty puncture. I then decided that maybe I should inspect the wheel and the tyre and deduct the cause. Nothing lept out at me, except that the tyre was looking a bit ragged and worn. Now in most places a worn tyre isn't really a big deal, but riding on the crappy roads of The Lou, with the cavernous pot-holes and copious amounts of broken glass, rusty nails, screws and god-only-knows what on the sides of the road, a worn tyre is a recipe for flats. So off I go to Big Shark, listening to the Killers and feeling a little blue about having to buy tyres again. Luckily Dave was working and set me up with some Continental Gator Skins... which he claims will survive the detritus we commonly ride through better than most. I mounted them two days ago, caught a ride to coffee with my roommate, and then jumped on the Trek for a quick grocery run. No flats, no problems. Today I took a little turn through the park on my way to coffee. Stiff wind from the west, but empty roads, and I now have the Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou soundtrack, which was perfect for this morning. I climbed up on top of the hill, feeling tired and slow and thought I would aim straight for Meshuggah's, get out of the wind and start in on my coffee. Then Bowie's Life on Mars hit and I dropped the hammer and it was all good.

Seattle in the House

Hard to tell which is more exciting, getting my first paper accepted for publication, the seachickens going to the superbowl or the now functioning washing machine in the basement. I'm going with the washing machine, if for no other reason than I now have one less reason for buying a car! Of course, before I could use the washing machine, I had to clear all the debris and despress from that half of the basement and sweep and mop the floor. I will probably have to mop the floor again before I clean up the other half. Having done that I noticed that the walls are a bit dungy and could use a nice coat of paint. I am feeling like a nice yellow would really be lovely.

You're a Star

A bleak and cold Sunday morning. I felt sluggish and weak the whole ride in. The Trek is still a maintenence casulty, needs a new tube in the rear, that I keep telling myself I am going to change when I get home. really. The Easton has not been treating me well, of course it could go for a complete overhaul, deraileurs are a tad out of adjustment, the Rock Shox are sticking the breaks are squeaking... The winter has been hard and brutal on my rides and there are still many weeks to survive. The Trek is starting to make creaking noises, especially near the bottom bracket... is a frame failure in my future? I pray to the memory of The Pirate that she'll hold together for another year. Do you hear me Marco? One more year on her sweet lugged frame, one more year of hard cornering, one more year! I measured the frame this morning as the hunt for a new ride is now serious. Many options on ebay. Now I have to decide, do I upgrade to a new road bike or do I find another classic lugged frame to build a Fixie? Hopefully I will see something that speaks to me on some base level, like the first time I rode my old Peregrine, and it will just be a matter of clicking and paying. Hopefully.

Bipolar Weather

The only thing that keeps me off my bike besides laziness is ice. Last night when I rode home (took the long route) the streets were still warm enough from the day to be wet, not icy, but all the trees and yards had a nice dusting of snow, and the park looked really beautiful. This morning I gandered out the window to assess road conditions while I was brushing my teeth. The roads were covered in a thin layer of frost and ice, which in most locales wouldn't be an issue, except that this is the lou, home of the puddle and manhole cover. I had a sudden image of myself hitting an icy manhole cover at Delmar and Skinker and sliding to my dismemberment under a ghetto-mobile while I was working on my molars and decided that I would walk. Besides, the Brookster brought me a new hat from Speight's brewery in New Zealand that I was just dying to wear. So off I marched, listening to Nick Drake's Five Leaves Left on the iPod and enjoying the cold air and bright sunshine. Stopped by Kaldi's for some pumpkin bread and a latte and then on to the lab. Sun has been shining for hours so the temps will hit the mid 40's, maybe even the fifties! Perfect winter riding weather in the lou, and the Trek is at home. Stupid bipolar weather.

dismal, just dismal

Whenever I leave Seattle it feels like I am commiting ritual suicide. There is the feeling that somehow I am a failure, unable to make the right choices so that I could live in the place that I want. There is the sinking realization that I am leaving, getting into some aluminum death cigar bound for someplace that doesn't have the right ratio of trees to people, or that lacks a decent body of water. Here I am, sitting in the lab in the midst of another wasted day, spent trying to fix junk and deal with failure, looking for the motivation that I thought I had managed to squirrel away in my big green bag, along with a jar of honey and a bag of butterfly cookies from Le Panier for my housemate. I keep hoping that tomorrow will be better, that something, anything, will work, and that I can capture some kind of forward motion. Its 60 something degrees outside, maybe I will feel better after going for a bike ride.