Work 'n' me

Work 'n' me

After getting thru a local state college while working part-time as a grocery-store clerk, I became a longhair carpenter for twelve years, with a couple years of auto-body repair and regular unemployment (including self-unemployment) mixed in. Then a family member offered to take me on as an accounting trainee in my mid-thirties. So, thinking I might not get another such shot at a regular gig, I came in from the cold.

In due course I became the three-letter variety of accountant. I think I am more suited to work with words, but numbers, tho I labor at them, have paid the bills.
However, after thirteen years of it, and resorting to SSRIs to get thru the boom-bust income-tax work cycles, I realized public accounting was not for me, got out, then found my way into business-casual corporate accounting. This turned out to be a better fit. I am not much of a button-down guy.

After going thru a couple stints followed by downsizings in the fast-changing computer tech industry, I was sent by a temp agency to a nearby (bike-commutable) automobile-related company. Before my temp year was up, a permanent accounting position came open there, and being a known quantity at that point, I was hired.

The company is a stable one that is doing well and treats its people well.  After ten years there as a foot soldier (non-manager), I am sixty-five and retirement is on the near horizon.
I consider myself fortunate to have wound up in this position, in good health (having been born with the constitution of a goat) and having friends and bikes to play with now and in the years ahead. Onward, ever onward.

Knees in the breeze, ride safe, watch your six.

Five three one

I have bought about a half-dozen used bikes in the last couple years, but, alas, I am not much of a savvy bike trader.

For example, for several years I had heard so many good things about the desirability of Reynolds 531 tubing (my alarm clock even is set to go off at 5:31 during the work week!) that recently I looked on Craigslist for a vintage bike with a frame made of 531.

I soon found and settled on a 1974 Raleigh Super Course Mk II, a model I learned has a devoted following on bike forums, partly due to the 531 (along with the alloy rims and Brooks saddle) and nice ride quality. The photo of the bike on CL looked pretty good; alas, up close the bike itself looked pretty tired, even forlorn.

But it was my size and I'd had it in mind that I was going to buy the bike, and I just could not walk away from the deal. Like I said above, not much of a savvy bike trader.

So, half-heartedly I offered the owner, a likeable low-key guy, 80% of his asking price, which was my plan before I saw the bike. He refused, I felt relieved, and found it humorous that my true feeling about the bike revealed itself to me this way.

While I happily was carrying his bike back to his basement, he came back with a split-the-difference 90% of asking price. I felt honor-bound to do the gentlemanly thing and accept, so I did. Hopefully I learn from this; I've got to be able to walk away!
The good news is, the bike cleaned up very nicely, it rides well, and I really like it. It truly is a keeper, a classic vintage bike.

Ride 11.16.14, same again

I was invited along on a group ride by a friend of a friend, so I went.

There were about 15 of us, and, sure enough, 2 cyclists consistently did not make way for cars that came up behind us, despite calls from the rear of "Car back!" Aaargh!
Same as it ever was. I was reminded why I don't often do group rides unless I know the other riders.

I later found out that one of the 2 miscreants is a sometime ride leader!

-Knees to the breeze,  ride safe, and watch your six.

Classic and Vintage ride 9.21.14

On Sunday, a bunch of folks that frequent a Classic and Vintage online forum were invited by another of the same to meet at his home for a C&V bike ride. When I saw the home was within 20 minutes of mine (what are the chances?), I had to take the guy up on his offer.

Alas,  I found these C&V-ers are about the same as all bikers I've seen; in this case, 3 out of 10 consistently did not share the road safely with the car traffic. At one point on a quiet country two-lane, we had a driver backed up for at least a minute on a rise where he could not see if there was an oncoming car, so he could not safely pass us. There was plenty of room for him to safely pass if we had gone single-file on the shoulder (I was riding sweep and had given the "Car back!" shout). But a couple riders didn't seem to care enough to end their double-wide conversations and share the road. Ignorant and/or oblivious. More bad will was generated between drivers and cyclists. And these i/o cyclists, like all of us, drove to the ride in their cars.

Choose your friends, and your fellow cyclists, carefully.
Ride safely.

Commute with pickup 7.21.14

On this morning's commute, I waited behind two vehicles at a traffic light. The first vehicle was a car with its right-hand blinker on. The second vehicle was a pickup, which had previously passed me on the way to the intersection, now stopped with no blinker on. Still, I held back and waited behind the pickup to be sure of the driver's intention, knowing some drivers turn without signalling, and I was the smaller, more vulnerable piece of the equation.

The light changed, and the car made the right turn as signaled. The pickup went forward, still without a blinker on, moving like it was going straight thru the intersection, leaving plenty of room along the shoulder. I moved to the shoulder and started to make my turn, and the pickup stopped moving. I saw an oncoming car about to make a left turn, but waiting for us. The pickup beeped a solid blast (very disturbing to a cyclist's ears), and I assumed he is beeping off the car, possibly on my behalf. But the pickup then made a right turn. As he drove by me in the far lane with the passenger window open, I heard the pickup driver yell something about the road. I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Turn signal! Use your turn signal!"

All I can figure is that the pickup driver was planning to turn right all the time, but either did not use his blinker or it was non-functional, and knowing I was there, he left some room even tho I was leaving room for him to be on his way ahead of me. So why beep and yell at me? Hopefully I made myself heard and he realized where I thought the blame lay; maybe he will think about it and not cause such a situation in the future.

Ride 9.29.13

Sunday group ride

I showed up early for the bicycle ride, the first one to arrive, in fact. I had been invited to join the Sunday regulars by one of them, a guy I used to ride with, before "Pat" told me he wouldn't ride with me anymore because I was too slow.

In fairness to me, I have to say that during our time riding together, I purchased a touring bicycle, by nature heavier and slower than my sport road bike, which I had put in mothballs for a time. After several years, I had seen Pat at a recent annual club ride where I was riding my new lightweight bike, and at the end of the ride he asked me my average speed on the day. When I told him, he was surprised and said since I was now faster than before, maybe I'd like to join him with his usual Sunday group. I thought I'd give it a try, although I find most ride groups not to my liking, mainly for safety reasons (riders blowing stop signs, going double-file, not sharing the road with cars, etc.). So here I was.

In the meantime, when Pat told me where the riders were from, I remarked that I remember one of that gang who once led a ride I was on, and he committed an outrageous offense by holding up cars at a stop-sign intersection so he could suck down some Gatorade while they idled behind our group. Some drivers honked angrily, and I don't blame them. Turns out this same ignoramus is part of this Sunday group. Great.

On this day, there were about 8 riders assembled when we started out. One, an older gent with whom I had spoken as we assembled (we found we have a mutual acquaintance), had ridden a 75 mile-long charity ride the day before, and during this ride he started "falling off the back." I pointed this out to Pat just ahead of me ("What about Harry?"), and he turned around, saw the situation, then turned back front and yelled, "Rider off!" So we all waited at the next intersection for Harry to catch up. When he did, he thanked us but told us to carry on without him, as there just was not enough left in
his legs after the day before for him to continue riding with us. Mind you, Harry still had about a 10-mile ride back to his car, which he'd left at the start point of the previous day's charity ride. Godspeed, Harry. Presumably you made it to your car all right.

We rode on, and I was enjoying the clear, not too chilly Burlington County autumn morning. After more than an hour, we arrived at a farm stand / deli that provided a place to buy food and drink, and some outdoor picnic tables under a big canopy on which to enjoy these things. Pat, a strong rider but not built like the typical slim Tour boys, started inhaling a chocolate-topped éclair. I said, "That shit will kill you." He replied, "But at least I'll go with a smile on my face." Then I saw another rider eating an identical éclair, and thought I should have kept my mouth shut, as I was, in effect,chiding him too, a stranger. Oops.

Also having something to eat at the tables was a young, close-cropped and intense guy, likely from the military base nearby, wearing a NY Jets jersey, uncommon in those parts. Turns out he was from Long Island, and he very much wanted to talk, so we obliged him and had a bit of a discussion about the day's prospects for his team.

Later in the ride, we made a left turn and I found myself where I did not want to be, to the left of the rider line, the only rider double-file, one of my bugaboos. Terrific. It so happened there was not much shoulder along that road, and a pickup truck was coming up fast in my mirror. I saw there was no oncoming traffic, and that the pickup had room, but due to his aggressive speed I made a move to get into the rider line, saying loudly, "Coming over." But the woman in line there made no move to let me in. I was on my own, apparently. So I hugged the line from the left as best I could while the truck went roaring by, leaning on his horn. Uncool and uncalled for, but he did it, and it was a tense moment.

Several times during the ride, while we were stopped at traffic-light intersections, I noticed the rider at the front was turned and talking to the riders behind him, not noticing when the light was changing. So several times I called out, "Got an amber!" thinking it is safest if everyone is ready to go when our light changes to green, rather than straggling thru in a ragged broken line in a way that makes it more difficult for turning cars. At one of the traffic lights just before the ride's end, the lead guy made a pointed comment while looking in my direction that he did not appreciate such calls (altho I hadn't made one in this instance - yet). Pat, to his goofy-ass credit, saw the light was changing over the shoulder of the complaining leader and yelled, "Changing!" When the leader looked at him, Pat gave him a smile and stuck his tongue out, nicely defusing the situation for me.

At the end, as people were packing up and going their separate ways, Pat rode up to me and said that I should have arm-signaled to the woman that I wanted to come into the line during the pickup-truck incident. I told him I know that is standard, but I felt I did not dare take a hand off my handlebar at that dicey time, and that she definitely had heard my call and still didn't move to make room to let me in. Pat said that, well, we are dealing with personalities, and that is hers. Great. I guess she was thinking, "It's my spot. Screw your safety, new guy."

I am comfortable riding solo for long distances. But when the weather is cold and I still want to ride, it is better to ride in a group in case of a problem, mechanical or otherwise, that can otherwise lead to being stranded and shivering on the roadside, with numbing fingers too uncooperative to perform a repair even if you know how to do it and have the right stuff with you. So will I ride with this group again (assuming they would not object)?

At the end of the ride, one of the other riders went out of his way to come over and speak with me in a friendly way, and I realized he had led at least one ride I had been on maybe 5 years prior, and I liked him then and now.

And the ride's start point is only about a 15-minute drive (or a half-hour ride) from my home.

We'll see.

EDIT: No.

********

And it occurred to me that today marks 10 years since I gave up cigarettes.
 ********

Ride 4.19.14

I parked the wagon at the Lumberton Municipal Building (on a road called Municipal Drive), changed a few items of clothing, then put the 2 water bottles into their cages and climbed aboard my bike. I headed east toward Vincentown, passing an old, decommissioned Nike missile base at Newbold's Corner.

Before actually entering downtown Vincentown, though, I made a left, rode past the Pinelands Preservation Alliance headquarters, and crossed State Route 206 at the light where a group of about five cyclists were just standing around. I said 'Hi' as I went by, catching the light change just right.

[I have to mention, that is the intersection where my friend and roommate Tucker was killed by a truck filled with twenty tons of sand while driving to work in the fog on my dad's birthday in 1976.]

About 100 yards farther on, I felt the bike's handling get squirrely, so I stopped and, sure enough, my rear tire was soft. OK, I hadn't changed a flat roadside in a long time, so I was due. I hoped my winter-evening basement practice would pay off, and it did. I used the mini-pump and the CO2-canister outfit, and was back on the road in nothing near record time. But I wanted to find the cause of the leak, so I took it slow, carefully checking the rim and the inside of the tire. Nothing found, though, so I hoped the new tube would not flat from the same cause. It didn't.

I rode on Scrapetown Road (love that name) and Simontown Road and New Lisbon Road and Four Mile Road before turning into Brendan Byrne State Park, fully in the Pines at that point. I took a leak in the woods. Then I passed the park office, crossed Route 70 and  made my way onto Route 72. Shortly thereafter I turned south towards Chatsworth. Not far down County Route 563 I made a right onto Sooy Place Road and began my circle back. On that lonely road I passed a cyclist going the other way; I said 'Good morning,' and he said 'Hi, NJg!' Turned out to be a guy who I used to ride with, until I got tired of his loudmouth boasting. I yelled out his name in reply, and continued on my way, and he on his. Kinda funny thing to happen in the middle of nowhere.

I headed back toward Lumberton, passing Red Lion Airport on the way. At one country road intersection, I had the right of way so about 8 cyclists waited at a stop sign for me to pass. I thought that was funny, so I said 'Thank you!' with a big smile on my face as I pedaled by.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, except for the usual headwind. After loading the bike into the back of the wagon, I headed for a Sonic and had myself a tasty chocolate milkshake. (After all, chocolate milk had recently been named a good exercise-recovery drink.)