Title Goes Here

Not too much to say today. Other than: It's SNOWING! I feel like a kid on Christmas. I love the first snow. I love the second snow. I love snow in general.

Had a chance to get some good riding in on the new Farley this weekend.

Friday I took my son and one of his friends to the MatSu River Park where we rode some of the trails that we helped build along with the flow trail and some good single track before heading to the river bottom to ride that a bit. A fun time was had by all.

Saturday I didn't ride, but Sunday I did, with the goal of trying some rooty, techy track to really start getting a feel for the new bike and it's capabilities.

After starting out with a sweep of a few XC ski trails, a portion of which have been abandoned as they are on the municipal dump's property, I headed out to the track. First, though, the climbs on the XC ski trails.

I don't know what grade some of those climbs are, but there is one that is nearly a 1/4 mile of what has to be 20%+ grade - it's a killer. XC skiers like their steep uphills for some reason. (Crazy buggers). Anyway, I was able to clear all those climbs with no issue. Though I have to say I was able to clear them on the Pugs as well - it just took me a few more minutes to get my breath back after climbing on the Pugs than with the Farley.

Anyway, after riding the single track, I still have to say that I feel that the Pugs climbs the rooty, techy stuff better.

On the Farley I'm constantly needing to adjust my body position to keep the front end down and the power to the back wheel, where with the Pugs, I might have to push the front down a touch, but it's really Ron Popeil - set it and forget it.

The mass of the bike also seems to be a bonus on some climbs - the Farley seems to want to stop dead when meeting some obstacles that need climbing over where the mass and momentum of the Pugs seems to push it through some of these challenging areas.

That said, the lighter weight of the Farley does allow me to feel fresher after riding. Yesterday I put in about 20 miles of mixed riding - pavement, XC ski trail, and single track and was still able to take the dogs out for a 2.5 mile run in the afternoon. I'm not a runner, per se, so this is a fairly big deal. Don't know that I would have felt fresh enough to do that after riding the Pugs.

Soot

I'm not feeling terribly motivated lately to write or to really do anything. A downswing with the weather, I guess.

And the funny thing is that I should be excited to write. I should be rushing to get the words in my head down on the page, but I'm not.

However, as the best writers always advise, you must write even when you don't feel like it. So here it goes.

I bought a new bike. A Trek Farley 6 fat bike. I've talked about this already. And I still struggle with balancing the want and the need sides of things and enjoy the bike for all it's worth.

I've put on some good miles already. A 30 mile out and back paved ride. A 20 mile or so single track ride on mixed terrain. Daily commutes for nearly a week now. Rain. Wind. No snow yet, but that's coming soon.

I've put in some good miles and I think I've started to get a good impression of the bike.

Let me first remind you of my riding style and background. For the past two and a half years I have exclusively ridden a Surly Pugsley. Nearly 10,000 miles on that beast this year alone. Trail, beach, river bottoms, pavement, terrain parks, skate parks, pump tracks, snow, snowmachine trail - I've ridden the Pugs on just about ever terrain there is. So, my impressions of the Farley are going to be colored by my experience with the Pugs.

First, let me just say that the Farley is a nice ride. After completing the 30 miles of paved riding last Friday, I was tired, but not exhausted. I wasn't completely spent. I'd ridden a similar path the week before on the Pugs - going out 27 miles and calling it good and at the end I was feeling it. Exhaustion and aching legs. The Trek is lighter and it feels lighter and faster even with the wider tires. I know that I could have tossed off another 10 or 15 miles on the road with no problems at all and still felt fresh the next day. So there's that.

Unfortunately, most of my riding is on paved trail as part of the daily commute. While I enjoy all types of riding, this type of riding isn't what I do for fun. Some might say that my selection of one bike to rule them all is a bit backwards given the proportion of types of riding I do. It seems a bit backwards to buy a bike geared for trail riding when most of my riding is not on trail. But that's the way I roll. I want a bike I can bomb on single track and still ride for daily commuting. That's a big part of what drew me to fat bikes to begin with. Particularly with the Pugsley. The Pugs was trail capable, but had the accoutrement needed to make for convenient commuting - easy rack mounting, fender mounts, a more upright feel, etc.

The Pugs was a bear on the climbs. It would climb over just about everything, but you felt the weight the whole time. The Farley isn't quite the same. The geo is definitely more trail bike than expedition bike. Not as upright, fewer mounting points, and light.

And these differences translate into a bit of a learning curve on the trail. The first thing I noticed is that the Farley requires a bit more finesse. The Pugs would do whatever you wanted it to on the trail, but often it required a bit of brute force to get it to do what you wanted it to. Example - there is this slightly tricky off-camber, rooty climb coming out of the college trails and into the Kepler trails. It's not steep, but the roots and such make it a bit challenging. With the Pugs it didn't matter the line, you just pointed, geared up, and climbed it knowing that the momentum would help see you through.

Not so much with the Farley. No, with the Farley it is important to pick the right line and be in the right gear going into the climb. The front end does feel really light on climbs and wants to come off the ground. This leads to challenges when climbing over roots in that you can loose too much momentum and have to daub. I had two such instances on sections of trail I've never had issues clearing before.

Some of this might also be an issue of tires. I ran the Hodags at about 12 PSI and found that on wet roots, particularly on off-camber sections, they broke loose time and again. The tires also don't seem to shed mud all that well. With Nates and even with the Knards, I'd have challenges breaking them loose in similar conditions. I find this a bit interesting as my Nates and my Knard were both 27tpi versus the 60tpi of the Hodag. I am sure that I just need to experiment with pressure a bit more, but with the Surly tires I would often ride them on trail at the same 17 to 18 PSI as on pavement and would still grip everything no problem.

And completely apropos of nothing - the MuleFut rim, decent as it seems to be, has a graphic of a pig on it. Not sure how pigs and mules go together. Odd.

Another thing I noticed with the Farley is that it doesn't seem to want to jump. The Pugs loved to get air born. With the Farley I had a hard time feeling the back end coming off the ground, or even getting the front end up for manuals. With the Pugs, a manual was like nothing and getting air was even easier. Though with the Pugs it always was apparent that you were in the air because the front end would dive as soon as the back was up. With the Farley, the front seems to, once in the air, want to stay up. Yet the Pugs, for as heavy as it is, just felt more willing to jump than the Farley.

All in all, I'm impressed with the Farley. There's definitely going to be some learning to finesse versus just point and go here. I'm a bit curious how it'll do on snow, though.

Buyer's Remorse

Well, I finally did it.

I dropped the hammer and bought a new bike. I don't have it in my possession yet. Not until tomorrow. But right now, I'm not sure how I feel about it. About the whole idea of buying a new bike, that is.

Buyer's remorse, I suppose.

Or maybe I just wonder if I was hasty.

First, maybe I should look at the reasons I want a new bike. Notice I said want, not need. First and foremost it is completely about want. The bike I have currently would more than suffice for many more years. Hell, it's got a new frame, so I guess it's nearly a new bike.

Now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about about why I want a new bike.

I ride a lot. We've established this already. And as someone who rides a lot, I want to have the most comfort I can while making the commute. In a self-powered vehicle that can mean a number of things. A lighter bike makes for easier rolling which makes for a more enjoyable and comfortable ride. In the winter, wider rims provide a bit better tire profile for flotation meaning a bit easier riding through the snow making for a more comfortable and pleasant ride. I'm hopeful that a wider bar will also lead to a more comfortable ride.

Another reason I've been looking for a new bike has to do with the recent snafu with the Pugs frame and being without transportation for a couple of days. Generally I don't go in for the idea that one needs to have an extra car or bike just in case one quits working. But, I've found myself in that situation too often. And it sucks. I want to know that on any given morning even if my primary bike is down, I can still get to work. Without driving.

I also am getting tired of riding by myself. Particularly in the winter. I don't have many (any) friends and a really challenging schedule which makes it difficult to set up rides with people outside my family. With the new Pugs frame being size large, all of my kids and possibly my wife can ride the bike, giving me four different possible riding partners. So, the bike will no longer be set up optimally for me as the rider, but it will be available if I need it and will give my kids something to ride along side me as I explore new areas this winter.

The large frame on the Pugs feels just a touch too cramped for me to ride everyday without putting on a new, even longer, stem that could affect the handling and with the slight differences in geo, the large already feels a bit twitchy to me.

And I just want a new bike. I've ridden the hell out of the Pugs and have gotten the per-ride cost to somewhere way south of a penny per ride. I've gotten my money's worth out of it. I still like the bike, but am just ready for something new.

So what makes the new bike better than what I currently have? Well, not much. Or maybe a lot.

I've already mentioned the wider wheels. The frame is non-offset, so easier to build a 29er wheelset for for summer riding. The hubs are out of the factory with sealed cartridge bearings rather than the open bearings that caused me so many problems on the Pugs until I rebuilt the wheel (which is now entering the break a spoke phase...). The brakes are hydro vs. mechanical. I don't know if this is better or not, yet. I've had a few times where the mechanical brakes felt a bit sketchy. The frame is aluminium and has a lifetime warranty - so no seat post bonding going on here. I've have aluminium frames break in the past. They have a life span and all. But that frame, too, had a lifetime warranty and the company replaced it. Unfortunately at the time I didn't have the funds to build up the frame as few, if any, of the parts from the original bike would work on the new frame. That said, I'm in a different place now and by the time this frame bites it, well, I should be getting to the point where a cruiser might be more my style.

Other than those few items, it's not like the new bike is light years ahead of the old bike. It is just new. Which is part of the hesitation I feel now that I've made the payment. Is this really what I want to spend that much money on? What else could I use that money for? The kids could use some skis. We could probably use a second car since we have one child who is licensed and one that is going to be soon. We could use a new X, Y, or Z.

I tend to get this way after making a large purchase. Not with cars, because when you finance something it feels a lot less real in terms of the cost.

I'm sure that I'll love the bike. And I'll ride it all the time. I just don't know that I'll ever be able to say that its purchase was ever anything more than me wanting something new and having the funds to afford it.

On the flip side, I do find that a new bike, or even new bike parts, tends to cause me to up my riding, which should result in a corresponding reduction in weight, thus better health? Yeah, I needed a new bike for my health. That's it.

Only in the Worst Way

So, I have a friend... maybe more of an aquaintance at this point... who is in a band. A fairly popular band - Motion City Soundtrack. Sometimes I listen to their records. Though not as much as I used to as my tastes have moved into a more progressive and heavy direction - Isis, Rosetta, Neurosis, Cult of Luna, etc. And when I listen to MCS I find that my man, Justin Pierre, seems to have captured my memories of that near year in 1994-95 and has spun them into emotionally powerful tales set to a pop-punk beat that often brings a tear to my eye and sets me strolling down memory lane.

This usually results in some rather terrible poetry. But at least it gets me thinking about my thoughts - how meta is that? - and putting those thoughts down on paper. Something I've not done enough of since paying a whole shitload of money to refine my craft. Money wasted? Probably. Maybe not. Who knows? Who cares? Good experiences, or something. Grad school didn't teach me to be brave, though, which is something I think the poet must be. Brave and willing to work hard at the craft - revising and revising and revising - never my strong suit. Instead I dash it out and it's over and done.

It used to be the norm to puke out three or four poems a day. Now it's three or four a year. I wonder how much age has to do with it?

So, poetry Tuesday today.

Nelson Hall - 1994-95

Someone once asked me

How can you love me if you don't love yourself?

The question's rattled around my head for years

and years. I've never found a satisfactory

answer. Is this really all we are?

I'm still trying to determine, at

39, who I am and if I give a shit at all.

Most times ambivalence abounds - 

the wrapper that is me - the bag of flesh

around a consciousness

that doesn't understand how to empathize,

but empathizes so much it cannot

see its own emotions are valid and

need release, need validation.

A psychobabble bubble expanding against

the walls of my skull. Threaten to burst, 

then pull back and leave the empty feeling again.

Looking back now, she just wanted a convenient

excuse to get away with a clean break.

But the truth lies there.

At the heart of it, something in those words

must feel true or why do they still prick

after twenty years have accumulated over them?

And how is it that I can remember her eye color

and the small gold stud she wore in her nose

but can't remember her name? 

Did I love her? Fuck, I don't know. I don't know much

from that time - I was just fucked out of my head

as was everyone around me - like the sixties

wrapped in flannel and torn denim, life in a madhouse,

the beer can, Nelson hall - bastion of future rock stars

business majors, burn outs, and wasted lives.

Nine months crossing boarders from 1994 to 95,

a gestation period. When you're 18 each moment seems

an eternity. When your mind is eaten away with chemicals

they seem longer.

I can remember, kind of, nights alone with the northern

winter dark out my window - glass crazed with frost - screaming

in the concrete bunker of that dorm, trying to feel

something real - the disconnection with the world out that

door so complete

I wouldn't talk to anyone for weeks, paranoid

and watching the world melt around me.

It's only in this dark near-winter mornings when

these memories flood back, these strange emotions

that I couldn't process then and can't connect

to anything real now.

I can feel with each year the razor edge of confusion,

of passion, of everything that used to make life both

painful and wonderful and mysterious, slowly dull. Like a TV

on the brink, colors all fading to sepia monotone,

a rerun of a rerun, Mr. Ed and My Three Sons, canned laugh

tracks and over-worn plot lines. Do I really have

another twenty, thirty, forty years of this? A continual

reduction of stimulus, of impulse, of making all

the same mistakes time and again trying to get them right? 

Oh, I Ache, Part 2

Is it new bike day if only the frame has changed and if the new frame is the same as the old frame? I don't know. I guess it feels like a new bike and it pisses me off on so many levels.

I suppose I should tell the story of how we got here, first.

A few months ago I was looking at getting a new saddle. A Brooks. Not that that really matters, but it is the set up. Anyway, I was researching the Brooks saddles and found that I would likely have to adjust my seat height to accommodate a new saddle. Makes sense, right?

Out to the garage I go for to adjust my seat. Actually, I had been thinking about changing the height for a while - making it just a touch higher. Out comes the allen key for with to loosen the seat collar. Seat collar loose, hands on saddle to give a nice easy twist and raise and… nothing. The post won't budge. This is late August.

The last time I know I adjusted the seat post was in December. My family bought me a new saddle for Xmas so I had to adjust for it.

I also know that when I originally put in the post, I greased it liberally.

However, here's my error. When I adjusted it in December I didn't regrease it. Nor did I regrease it at any point between December and now. The spring was, as springs are here, wet and dirty. Months of road salt and grime being thrown up on to the seat post and soaking down between the post and the tube. Steel and aluminum. Salt and water and air. A nice warm, dry, summer. A wet fall.

I can't say that I'm surprised by the galvanic corrosion. I'd like to, but I'm not. It makes perfect sense.

I talked to a couple of mechanics, consulted the interwebs, and in the end tried just about everything.

WD-40 bath morning and night - the post just laughed at me.

Deep Creep - my favorite penetrating lubricant and a dang fine engine starter - Nothing.

Soaking the seat tube and post in cleaning vinegar - Nada.

Beating the post downward with a big freaking hammer - Yeah, that worked… not.

There's the Drano method where you fill the post and seat tube with Drano or similar to dissolve the aluminum post while leaving the seat tube untouched. I'm a bit scared of chemicals, so I decided to avoid that one. And I'm cheap and wanted to try to salvage the 100 dollar post.

Looking back I should have just sacrificed it.

The final option was to place the post in a bench vice and use the frame as leverage to try to break it free. I don't have a bench vice so I used Vice Grips with steel tube for added leverage and my wife helping to hold the frame in place.

It seemed to be working.

But let me back up a bit. After I'd tried most methods to try to get this thing unstuck I kind of resigned myself to just leaving it and knowing that I'd just not be able to change seats. Then when it was time to upgrade I'd just hang it on the wall as a reminder of what not to do.

For some reason the wife talked me into giving it another try with the Vice idea.

And it seemed to work. I clearly got some movement in the post.

So I doubled my effort and started cranking on the post in the opposite direction.

Can you guess where this is going?  Yup. Pop. The post snapped like a rice crispy diving into the worlds largest bowl of milk.

Well, now that the post is gone, I guess it is time to start cutting. And chiseling. And grinding. And prying. And cursing.

I spend a good two hours the first night working away at the stub of the post, getting it down to about an inch inside the seat tube. The next day I continued to work on it for another three or four hours, I don't remember now, and got it down another two or so inches.

Now it's Sunday and I've got a hangover. I go to work on the bike. Working slowly and carefully. Because I have a hangover and because I don't want to hurt the frame. I work and I work and I seem to be getting nowhere.

Then I chisel away for a bit and the chisel (really a long ass screwdriver) seems to pop through something. My first thought is "Fuuuu I just put a hole in the seat tube." I look. No hole. Must be to the bottom of the seat post. The chisel is stuck, though, so I put the Vice Grip on it and twist, trying to get it out like I had done many times before.

Then it happened. Of course it did. The second great break. The seat tube rips and there sits the screwdriver poking out.

So long story short - I call every bike shop that was open on Monday. No frames. One of the local valley shops has one, but it is a size large instead of extra large and they're closed on Mondays.

I scour Craigslist looking for possible bikes, but I really can't see buying someone else's over-priced used bike that has a crap mix of components. I come close to pulling the trigger on a couple, but in the end decide that no, I'll just get a new frame and use the parts I have. I've spent a bit of money on some good parts, some of which can't be used on anything but a fat bike.

Tuesday I get the frame and build it up, noticing a few things. 1 - my headset is fubar. The bottom bearing is missing a few balls and is distinctly red instead of bright stainless steel color.  2 - the front der cage is broken.

No biggie. I can live with these things in the short term. I just need to get my rig back in order so I can get my booty to work. I build it up, adjust what needs adjusting, and then end up heading up to Hatcher's Pass to take her on her maiden voyage. Gold Mint Trail. A nice, rocky climb. A challenging out and back ride. Hard on machines and people.

Or it can be, anyway.

Helpful hint number 1 - do not try to ride anything where you might need traction with a bald ass Knard tire.

After much futzing on the first part of the ride getting stuff dialed in, I end up making it to about 4.5 miles up the valley before I have to turn around to head back to my meeting with the wife and kids in the parking lot. The bike is feeling right for the most part. The difference in frame size isn't noticeable other than I don't feel as stretched out. I'm feeling good, like this my bike.

And I let it rip a bit on downhill sections. I clear a few rocky climbs I've not in the past. I'm feeling it.

Then blam. Lights almost out. A section of the trail is quite muddy. I know this from the trip up. There's a small dry line next to a VW Beetle sized boulder. I shoot that line. What happened next I'm not sure. I just remember thinking that it's going to hurt. What I think happened is that the back end slipped out on the mud and the front, as I tried to overcorrect, caught the edge of the trough and sent me flying.

All I know is that I have a nice constellation circling my head, my neck feels a bit catawampus, and my leg is screaming at me.

I lie there on the crowberry bushes and yell a few choice explitives once I regain my breath and slowly start the process of evaluating the damage. I can still feel my feet and hands, so that's good. I slowly begin to move, first arms, then legs, then sit up, and, finally, stand. I'm bleeding. I'm bruised. The bike's taken some damage - the handlebars are 90 degrees from where they should be, but overall things are looking good. I'm not too badly hurt and the bike is ride-able, thanks to having my multitool with me.

In the end I made it back to the parking lot and everything was fine.

I do have to wonder just what I did to deserve such a rash of bad luck with the bike. Hopefully my karma bank is balanced out now. I'm not sure I can take much more. 

This

My new favorite quote:  The geometry they just sold you sucks frozen monkey ass.

Thanks Mike C! 

Transportation Poetry Oh My

The bulk of this came to me last night while on the bus. Observational. I tried to wrap it up this AM with some sort of resolution or something. Not sure that I'm completely happy with it, but it is a good start and it felt good to write this way again.

Imagine this: talcum powder's delicate scent

on the surface, covering the rank sweaty smell

of food fried in year's old grease

burnt and salty, a black-brown smell like

putrefying fungus on the forest floor.

Picture this: black woman missing two front teeth

promising she'll be good this time, the ghosts

aren't riding with her today, demanding

that she be allowed to show her pass

even after the driver waved her by, knowing which pass

she possesses and not wanting to

hold up boarding as she digs to the

furthest reaches of her rolling suitcase.

Imagine this: 58 years old. Skirt so short

the veiny thighs show right through even

as the hemline is continually tugged down and down

again, the backs of thighs rubbing against the stained and

filthy polyester and polyvinyl of the

molded seat, a cushion that does not cushion.

high heels six inches - well maybe really just three,

strappy and cork soled like something from 1979

the straps maybe once sexy or seductive, now

just constricting, impleading

the ability to walk with comfort and ease and, really, who

wears something like that when the rain is falling

and autumn is here? Maybe a drag queen or a

woman of a certain age trying to recapture

the male gaze that feel upon her in youth? 

Picture this: stained chinos and a hat emblazoned

with 4:20 - a canned rebellion.

Sweat shirt - hoodie two sizes too

big and reeking of cheap ditch weed,

sandalwood incense-

I suppose it brings back memories of college,

memories of when chemical

alteration of the consciousness

was a fun weekday activity instead of the constant tight rope

balancing act between harmless fun and serious

addiction issues that its become.

Imagine this: 5:15 in the morning, every morning,

a scent like rotten eggs mixed with half digested

baked bean mixed with the smell of water

in which hot dogs have been boiled, left on the stove

overnight - the gaseous outpour of some

working-class stiff or the off-gassing of the swamp

that rests silent and beautiful between the highway and the sea?

Picture this: another day begun and ended

wrapped in a steel box hurdled down the road

at 70 miles an hour, an act of faith, of trust that

the operator is awake at the wheel. We try to clear our minds

of thoughts of mass suicide and icy patches

and large herbivores on the roadway, drunk drivers

and insane gunmen and sink into dreams or our

twisted thoughts - processing the day to come or

the day just ended - a family road trip minus the bickering

of the two youngest siblings. And is it worth it? Is it worth it

each of our eyes seem to ask - this getting up

so damned early in the morning and being away from

our homes for so long through the day just so

we can save a bit of gas money at the expense of our time.

Is it worth is and is it worth it? The questions hide

just under each word we say and the answers

change by the day, change on the mood and whim

of the weather and circumstance. But yes, it must be worth

it, that time spent watching each other watch each other,

that time spent in fitful dream. That time spent reading or

working or just staring into the black expanse of forest that

speed by  and we are free to reside in

a thoughtless world for forty minutes twice a day

letting someone else worry about our safety for a change.