Ride 4.09.18

Monday, high 30s – mid 40s and breezy

I drove with Frank down to Gibbstown and parked at the supermarket just off the interstate. We did a bit of shopping, then saddled up and pedaled over the interstate hump and south on Swedesboro Avenue. Frank wanted the day to be at least ‘nifty’ which means we needed to cycle at least ‘fifty’ miles. I had a cue sheet for 46 miles, but I knew the roads well enough that we could go off-script to get our desired miles. 

We wended our way down toward Swedesboro using Wolfert, Warrington Mill, Asbury Station, Hendrickson Mill and Garwin Roads, crossing US 322, turning onto then immediately off Kings Highway before reaching town. The left onto Back Creek Road and a right onto Russell Mill Road put us in great farmland riding country. Then we went east onto Harrisonville Road which fed into Oldman’s Creek Road (and a couple real rollers), across State Route 45, past the South Harrison Township municipal building and on into little Harrisonville. From there we took Eldridges Hill Road to Whig Lane Road to East Lake Road, crossed US Route 40, riding east of Woodstown proper, heading south. Via Alloway-Woodstown, Fenwick, Mannington-Yorkville, Cemetery and Cheney Roads we worked our way out to SR 45 again, by the Salem County vocational school.

After heading south on SR 45 a couple miles we came upon a dirt road, and needing a place to pee, we pulled in there, then saw the sign denoting Mannington Wildlife Management Area. In all the times I’ve ridden down that road past that site (including at least 6 club Time Trials), I’d never seen that sign or known there was a WMA there. After we did our business, Frank suggested we ride further down the dirt road to see what was there. Very shortly we came upon a wooden viewing platform looking out over what I later learned is Mannington Marsh, which feeds into the Salem River. The marsh was more like a river itself at that point, and was occupied by many ducks, egrets, swans and a great blue heron. On the far side, a road bridge was visible, on Kings Highway.

We continued down SR 45 and made a right turn, went around the horn (on the quaintly-named Bypass Road) and immediately turned onto Kings Highway headed north, passing over the Swamp bridge, from which a couple guys were fishing, and rode on up, eventually to Sharptown. There we went left on Main Street and after a block took a right onto a side street that came out to US 40, a block up west of the traffic light with the Sunoco convenience store. We crossed the highway there (just a little east of the Cowtown Rodeo, ‘the oldest weekly running rodeo in the USA') and made our way up to Auburn, passing Frank’s favorite solar-powered LED blinking Stop signs, and then veered west toward sleepy Pedricktown. We dawdled there a bit, seeing if we could find the Pedrick House which we’d heard of, but no luck, even after asking a USPS letter carrier who was kind enough to Google it for us. 

We then proceeded west to US 130 (a country road at that point) and started north. Knowing that the drawbridge over Raccoon Creek by Bridgeport is under construction and still may not be a healthy place for cyclists to ride, we took a right onto Center Square Road and headed toward Pureland industrial park. The riding there was dicey on this weekday, and it was clear that the road was laid out for big trucks and cars, but not for bicycles. We squeezed thru over a mile, gritting our teeth and saying, 'Never again.' We crossed over I-295 at Exit 10 and continued toward Swedesboro, going thru the new-ish commercial area with all the conveniences (Acme, franchised fast-food joints, banks, medical offices, drug stores, the Logan Township library, etc) that feed off all the new homes in the area, the Jersey southern edge of the Philly-area urban sprawl. Eventually we came to the new little Kings Highway traffic circle at the south end of Swedesboro near the diner where I’ve eaten frequently with the Breakfast Bike Boys (Gene, Sam, Rich, Mike, Larry, Matt). 

From there it was the usual careful ride down the main drag thru town, watching our mirrors and looking out so we didn’t get doored by the cars sitting along the curb, until, after crossing Raccoon Creek on the north end of town, we made a dicey left off Kings Highway onto Paulsboro Road. We sailed along on that road, went thru the small village of Repaupo and got back to Gibbstown safely after a total of 60 miles, both agreeing that the last stretch was a most enjoyable run in to the finish. Again we availed ourselves of what the supermarket has to offer, then we loaded up the bikes and headed for home. A nice little chilly bike adventure, it was. The balaclavas never came off.

Wheelfine Imports

Visit to Wheelfine Imports Sat 9/12/15

After reading on the 'net a while back that about an hour away there is a very cool independent, owner-operated bike shop, dealing mostly in Italian bicycles (the sexiest kind), I rounded up a couple of bike-savvier buddies and headed north along the Delaware River to Lambertville, NJ.

We made a right off SR 29 onto Brunswick Pike opposite downtown Lambertville, climbed a hill, and about 1-2 miles up the road we found Wheelfine Imports sitting by the highway in a rural residential area. Right away we were taken with several bikes leaning up against the outside of the building. After ogling them (two new Electras 29ers, an older Bianchi and others), we went in the wide-open door of the low one-story building and immediately had to squeeze our way past the many bikes that filled the small front counter room.

I called hello, and shortly thereafter the friendly proprietor appeared, Michael Johnson. He made some quips right off the bat, putting us at ease. He said he started out working nearby for legendary bike-builder Jim Redcay. His good reputation is well deserved. He let us poke around the various rooms for about an hour while he regaled us with all kinds of bike info. There was a lot of back and forth between Padge, Harry, and Michael. I just tried to absorb everything while not saying anything too stupid. I did come up with the correct answer as to what type of non-carbon-fiber frame material led to the development of carbon-fiber forks.

The shop had bikes from Colnago, DeRosa, Cinelli, Ciocc, Merckx, Pinarello and others jammed in everywhere over 2 rooms. ("No Treks here.") Awe-inspiring. Michael says he sells more Bianchi pista bikes than any other shop in New Jersey.

Also, there were bike items on shelves filling up the rest of the space, including tools, lube, racks for mounting on bikes, racks for mounting on cars to carry bikes, gloves, jerseys (including a Wheelfine), helmets etc. and even pastel-colored straw baskets for the girly bikes. In short, it seemed he had everything.

On his workstand, Michael had a Carrera carbon-fiber bike which was lighter than any I've ever lifted. He took off the radial-spoked front wheel and tire and handed it to me; it was laughably light. He said he had built the wheel, lacing it so the flanged ends of the spokes were on the inside of the hub flange, which he says is better but takes a minute longer.

It was like being in church and going to communion.

Before leaving, I bought a chain (my first Wipperman!) and Padge bought a mountain-biking backpack made by Dueter (a German brand he had heard good things about while on his latest trip to his native England).
On the ride home, we chattered like chimps, our heads spinning from the visit to a shrine.

Brandywine Tour 2015, DVBC

Brandywine Tour, Delaware Valley Bicycle Club, Sunday 9/06/15

After doing this ride for 3 years, then skipping it for 3 years, I got some buddies interested in doing it this year. Mike, Akram and I met at 6:30 at Padge's place, 'the farm,' and drove about 45 minutes to the starting point, Pocopson elementary school near (Brandywine) Creek Road, up from US Route 1 in Chadds Ford, PA (Wyeth country).

From the school, which sits high on a hill, we had a nice view of nearby wooded hills on a beautiful and still summer morning. We all signed in, chose the 52-miler (other options were 28, 65 and 100 miles), and started pedaling together just before 8 a.m.

Back down Creek Road we went, then crossed US 1 and rode thru what has to be some of the nicest hilly country in the Delaware Valley. We South Jersey flatlanders were getting our desired hill-riding low-gear workout in a lovely setting. "Awesome," Padge said. Agreed.

At one point, I came upon Padge pulled over to the side of the road with a woman, both off their bikes. Turns out he noticed she was fighting her way uphill on under-inflated tires, so chivalrous Padge offered to help, and used his mini-pump to get her rear tire up to a decent inflation. Akram took over and did the same for her front tire. She apparently did not know much about inflation, and mentioned relying on her Lancaster-area bike shop to tell her what to buy and what to do. My guess is she had not inflated her tires since the shop had sold her a floor pump. Then off we pedaled together, now numbering 5.

There was more nice riding up and down the hills, lots of shady roads, farmland and horse country.

At the second of 2 rest stops (at a canoe rental area on the Brandywine Creek), Akram the Affable saw someone he knew and greeted him; then he made a new acquaintance, the club volunteer working the bike service stand. Before they were thru, they had exchanged contact info, because Bob the volunteer had some obscure bike part that Akram was trying to locate for one of his other bikes.
I noticed a guy in an Alp d'Huez cap was looking at me funny, and when I started walking away he asked if he could take my picture, because he wanted to send it to his sister; I look just like their dad! When I smiled for the camera (phone), he said 'Don't smile.' Apparently his dad was a dour man. Funny.

We five headed off and rode quite a while, but we reached a point where we kinda seemed to be going back over the same ground. Finally I saw tents in a campsite and was sure we had passed that way before. As we were chattering back and forth about that, the same canoe-rental rest stop came into view. *urk*

We talked with a rest-stop volunteer who said we were not the first to accidentally come back thru a second time. She tried to figure out where we went wrong, using a map on her smart phone along with my cue sheet. However, between the sun glare on her screen and my lack of glasses, I could not make out what she was trying to show me. I nodded frequently and thanked her, thinking I would just pay closer attention to the cue sheet the second time around.

We started off again, and on our next pass, I saw where we went wrong; earlier when we had been stopped for regrouping, our fifth rider had seen a road marking indicating a turn and thought we should go that way. But the marking turned out to be for riders on a different route coming from another direction. And the road signs were angled so you couldn't really tell what was what without studying it. Still, my bad for not figuring out which road we were on and verifying the turn with the cue sheet. Seeing we were 11 miles further on the odometer, I was able to make the adjustment at each milepost noted on the cue sheet, and we were fine the rest of the way.

The last piece of the ride, however, was up the driveway to the school at the top of the hill. The driveway is so friggin' steep, it has a switchback built into it! So it was put 'er in low gear and avoid the shame of walking the last 100 yards. What a finish. We celebrated with complimentary pizza slices. The band was playing Maggie's Farm.

Instead of 52 miles, because of the wrong turn we did nearly 64 miles, and were none the worse for wear. In fact, we called it our metric century, like we planned it that way.

A good time was had by all. It was the best ride of the year so far for me, with the hills, the lovely scenery and the good company on a perfect day.

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.