New Trail!

The GAP trail is open, and all should ride! OBEY!

But seriously, a trail now connects Washington D.C. to the Southside in Pittsburgh; a little fact that would have served my friend and I well when we decided to bike to McKeesport this past weekend.

We left when the sky was gray and mist hung in the air. A perfect day for biking. We raced the whole way out to the industrial abandoned beauty of a town (I find brownfields overtaken by mama nature captivating)and promptly found a dive bar. The ride home would be an easy cruise, although the sun decided to make an appearance by the time the Yuengling hit my brain cells.

While flying through the sketchiest part of the ride, a no-shoulder gem of a highway that connects more fair-weather trails, I felt I could not be peddling much faster. That is exactly when I heard the crash of metal and saw my friend's back tire fishtail in front of me. Gash straight to the tire. No patch kit. No pump. Genius.

Hopping the barrier, we decided to walk to tracks to Southside. Not too far into our haul up the rail we discovered (actually a discovery I can take NO credit for) a trail not 20 from the tracks. After patching the tire with some dolla' billz (because the method is really that badass) we finally made our way home. No better way to celebrate an adventure like that than to bike another 4 miles for Mexican and Avery Brewing Company's Maharajah.

Neglect

Aight yinz...

So I have forsaken my poor baby blog, but all for good cause: BIKE TOUR!
I have so much to share, but I won't wear ya'll out with a huge dialogue. For now, I will simply say this: biked safely from Seattle, up around the Olympic Penninsula, and down to Eugene safely! No serious wrecks.

1st day back in Pittsburgh: doored!

Enjoy the carnage.

-The Velodict

Clipless Fail

I love my clipless pedals. There is no better feeling than hauling up a hill out of your seat so fast you want to puke. This feeling is facilitated by clipless, which allow you to charge hills like a battle-hungry warrior. There is really only one disadvantage I see to riding in this manner, and I experienced that disadvantage just the other night.

Riding clipless means just the opposite really...you are clipped in to your pedals, so to speak. This means that, every once in a while, you don't properly eject your feet from your pedals. This happened to me (pre-tequila mind you)the other night at the busiest intersection on Butler in front of a line of traffic and 4 of my friends. While biking (actually we were stopped at the light) to the bar I slow-motion crashed to the pavement. Skidding my knee, hands, and slamming my thigh into my frame, all I could do was humbly laugh.

Really if I learned anything from this experience, it is simply this: don't stop at intersections! That and everyone should always have a video camera attached to their helmet.

-The Velodict

Tour-ito

Went on a fantastic tour with a few fantastic people the other week. The great state of Pennsylvania (and, in actuality, some fantastic non-profits in PA, WV, MD) implemented a trail that runs between Pittsburgh and D.C. This little gem is, by far, the most forgiving trail in existence today. Okay, I don't have the authority, nor the breadth of knowledge to make that previous statement, but just flow with me here.

ANYWAY. two novice bikers rocked this trip so everyone should give it a shot (though, these two are exceptionally cool cats). Here is a short summary of the extravaganza camp/bike fest we had:

1. Left for trip at, approximately too late (7:30 p.m.)
2. Treated to a free drink/dinner at June Bug's in Sutersville (Thanks Rex! You rock!)
3. Biked in total darkness until we pass out in a park.
4. Wake up to realize campground is 10 seconds further down from where we parked our butts.
5. Pick up a fourth badass biker in Connellsville.
6. Hiked Ho Chi Minh Trail II in Ohiopyle to second campground.
7. Swam in ice water and then raged at 1 of the 3 bars in Ohiopyle.
8. Passed the eff out (complimentary drizzle included).
9. Took a shortcut around Ho Chi Minh Trail II (complimentary mountainous terrain and absurd high graded and intense traffic road included).
   
10. Biked in downpour.
    
11. Ate salvation sandwiches in Connellsville (eggncheeseawesomeness!)
12. Biked the rest of the BEAUTIFUL trail home to the 'Burgh.

I highly recommend this trail to anyway on the area. One of the best weekends and rides I've ever done, hands down!

-The Velodict

I'll Take My Eggs Scrambled

New Pedals! Crank Brother's Egg Beaters off the trusty rusty craigslist site. As with most craigslist purchases, this one was not without a good story in tow.

Last week, I saw the brand new set of pedals for sale and immediately called up the owner. He agreed to meet me halfway between his home and LVille for the exchange; this place called Verona. I had never biked to Verona before, but why not give it a shot. A nice ride and new gear: two for the price of one.

I set off on my bike a good half an hour before our rendezvous, only to soon discover that Verona is not quite as close to Pittsburgh as I had previously expected. I also had to weave between the northside and mainland in order to avoid some nasty roads. Anticipating a late arrival, I called up the dealer to let him know I would be arriving a wee bit late.

"You're biking here? No, no, no, I will just meet you in the next town you get to." Realizing there was no use in convincing this guy otherwise, I agreed to his terms. Upon meeting, we chatted a bit about bike tours and Pittsburgh riding. He then gave me the pedals and said, "I feel you are really going to like these. I just want you to have them and enjoy them on the road!" I could feel myself tearing up, but I restrained and gave him a huge hug instead. Just about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done! Sam, if you ever read my teeny little blog, THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU SERIOUSLY ROCK!

Needless to say, I am still getting used to the eggbeaters, but with a little more love, I see some serious pedal companionship in the near future.

-The Velodict

I've Been Yinz-ed

I haven't re-wrapped my handle bars since, oh say, never. The original bar tape was looking pretty tattered so I picked up some flashy new wrap at the store the other day. The selection was weak (which I guess is an opinion, but it's really edging on a fact) and so from my bountiful 4 choices, I chose yellow.

A few things occurred to me while I was re-wrapping my bars:

1) Never put 500 miles on a bike, go on a gargantuan tour, and ride that same bike for another 8 months without changing the bar tape. Peeling that stuff off filled my kitchen with the sweet scent of high-school boy's changing room (gross).

2) Always pay a few extra dollars for the nicer bar tape. I got the cheapest (although, like I mentioned, my choices were limited), and the bar tape was not tape at all, but rather just bar wrap without the tape. ANNOYING.

3) I officially have some sub-conscious adoration for the 'Burgh, as my bike is now BLACK AND YELLOW. great.

-The Velodict

W'arsh Board

I happen to be a bit of a musician. And by musician, I mean I play percussion; and by percussion, I mean I strum the ol' washboard now and then. So really I'm not a musician at all. Self described, I am a whisky-drinking, bluegrass listening, subconscious hillbilly, who likes to get tipsy and bang an extremely loud piece of metal. Yeah. Just typing it makes me want some bourbon.

ANYWAY

The Northside's Parkhouse has open pick nights every Wednesday, and last night I decided to try my hand in the jam business. The only real trouble was figuring out how to transport my board from home to the Northside. I quickly learned the board is really cumbersome to haul; it does not fit in my panniers, and the rear rack net doesn't quite reach around it (or hold it taut) . Finally, after perspiring, shading beet red, and wrestling the board around, I rigged the musical mishap to my backpack and headed over the bridge for some bluegrass fun. Where there's a will, there's a way.

-The Velodict

Oh, and I was gifted with this little memory the other day. Thought I would share it with ya'll (traffic jam in Hungary)

You are Now Arriving at your Final Destination: Beer

I tend to be a bit cranky in the morning, at least enough-so that in full consciousness, I feel embarrassed by my slumber drunk rants and raves. Put it nicely, I was quite short with a friend when he excitedly called at 7:30 this past morning. To be fair, I had only acquired 3.5 hours of sleep, but to be equally fair, it was a magical day to be excited about: East End Brewery's Pale Ale Pedal!

The gist of this ride is quite simple. Show up, rain or shine (and lets be honest, this is Pittsburgh, so it will and did rain), bike to an unknown destination, and drink a free beer! Oh, and the leaders of the ride are towing the kegs!

So despite being an crank-ball in the morning, I was quickly placated (and then fueled) by the sound of bike bells, smells of beer, and view of hundreds of bikers showing up all for the sake of taking a ride.

So thanks East End Brewery for getting me up at 7:30 to bike and drink!

-The Velodict

Humidity Part 1

For the past 5 years I have been living an ignorant reality where humidity does not exist. Honestly, I really liked this reality. See, I happen to be a bit of a sweat-er, but in zero humidity, I dry fast, thereby allowing me to be around other human beings after biking.

Pittsburgh has crushed this reality. The stagnant air here leaves me feeling moist while standing still, and visibly disgusting while moving. I fear the summer, when I may actually look like I went swimming upon arriving anywhere. I can deal with most sweat-stains, except I have a feeling my bum on a leather saddle will yield some awkward butt patterns. Gross. Really Gross. Sorry to everyone in advance. I am just going to call it butt art. Sounds a little nicer.

ANYWAY, a friend told me it takes a few weeks to properly acclimate to the humidity, so I am leaving this an open-ended post. Part 2 coming soon.....


-The Velodict

Bike Light

So I finally got a new back light. This is good for everyone whose name is Gepetto, because now there will be no widdle-ing away at my nose on a nightly basis. Strange analysis you say? Allow me to explain!

I have been without back light for, lets just say too much time. Don't get me wrong, I am a big supporter of full on night gear, but Bloomfield/Garfield has a reputation for disappearing bike lights. (My one friend has a theory that people steal them to then SELL the batteries. I don't know if I buy this but ANYWAY...) I was stopped at night on the road by a concerned citizen, on average, once a week. The CC always gave me a nice little lecture on rear lights and visibility, to which I always responded, "My light was stolen the other night. I haven't gotten a new one yet" This was true... for a week or so. But after a month, my nose grew a little longer with every white lie. I knew all was bad when I heard my roommate give the exact same excuse while we were grocery shopping one night.

The only downside to being properly fitter for night-time biking is this: I officially am the caboose for all night ventures, as my roommate is still playing Pinocchio.

-The Velodict

I Tip My Helmet to You, Pittsburgh

Spent the past weekend in good ol' Philly, which will always feel a bit like home to me. I must say I was thoroughly impressed by the widespread bike culture there! Everyone, their grandma, and their grandma's Bichon Frise seems to cycle there. Seriously, for every sign post, there is locked up bike. I was suffering through some serious bike envy all weekend.

That being said, I have to give a wag of my finger to you Philly. Your bare heads and lack of helmets seriously disturbed me! How can so many hottie-puh-totties bike around without cranium love?

I was sharply reminded of why I love Pittsburgh: everyone here protects their goods and sports the helmet!

So I tip my helmet to you, Pittsburgh! Way to protect your sexiest assets!

Bikeshop

Welp, Pittsburgh officially has the coolest bikeshop....ever.

So in devoted laziness, I have been riding my trusty Surly with a sole break for the past month (not so trusty Oryx cantilever breaks. Don't ever buy them!) Needless to say, I have been able to make all required stops...except when it's raining out...or I'm on a really steep hill. I live on a really steep hill. I knew it was time to change out the breaks when my routine homecoming campaign consisted of coasting past my road, making a right into the next street down, and then turning around and biking back up to my street (yeah it got that bad).

I decided to get new breaks from this crusty old bike shop down the road from my house: Kranx. From the exterior, the place looks like it has been out of commission for about a decade, but inside a cyclists paradise awaits. Kranx stocks troves of new/new retro frames, wheels, seats, chains, well basically anything a bike shop would typically carry. And the creme on the berries: an entire room outfitted with tools and bike stands available to fix and tune for hours!

And that is what I did! You don't get much help/advice on fixing your bike, so be prepared to learn everything there is to know about the mechanics of a bike. Which is probably the coolest part about Kranx. A few hours there, and you will be stripped of your nincompoopsy and revel in divine self-cultivated cycling wisdom. Ahhhhh, them some sweet berries!

-The Velodict

MacGyver

I love being resourceful. There is nothing more satisfying than using the tools in the immediate surrounding to rig up little solutions to life. Cycling often presents opportunities to demonstrate the inner MacGyver (a show I've never actually seen, but now feel I should).

A few days ago my roomie and I were high on springtime, and decided to do our grocery shopping on bike. This is normally not a problem. I can't really afford more than will fit in my panniers, and so cycle-shopping typically balances my inner urges to buy unnecessary groceries.

While browsing the aisles (no harm in looking), I remembered that our house was down to one roll of TP. Excited with my efforts of pro-activism, (I can think of no better area to display pro-activism about than bathrooms) I grabbed the mega pack of Scott TP. Is it one t or two? The brand doesn't really matter. ANYWAY.

The roomie and I made our purchases and began stuffing them into the panniers. It quickly became apparent that the baby-elephant size package of TP was not going to fit in the saddle bags prompting operation MacGyver. We rounded up some extra plastic bags, and strapped the package onto the rear rack of my bike. I can only imagine how I looked cycling home, a block of TP weaving throughout the streets of Bloomfield.

Also: cool article. Take note Pittsburgh.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/03/18/most-new-yorkers-support-_n_837751.html

-The Velodict

My Own Slice of the Reef

No more Penn Avenue for me! That's right! No more over driven, potholed, mole-bumped satanic street biking for this chickadee! I was tipped off the other night about a much calmer option to my typical chaotic ride on Penn. My own little slice of the reef, if you will. Coral Street.

And things have been as calm as the waters over the Great Barrier ever since (this is where I assume, the waters over the Great Barrier Reef are calm. They could be their own little version of hell for all I know). The road is lined with uber nice brick houses, trees, roads as smooth as butta', and best of all, not a car in sight. So if you are sick of playing frogger on the highway to hell, please, come join me on my commute on Coral. Unless you are a driver. Then forget you ever read this message. What message you ask? Good question I say!

-The Velodict 

Party On Thor

Gosh darn we are so close to spring! All signs point towards better days: more daylight, temperatures above freezing, birds-a-chirping, and thunderstorms! The burgh experienced its first thunderstorm the other day, and of course I was cycling in the thick of it.

I awoke nice and early (time doesn't matter, all you need to know is that the sun was not up yet) the other morning to some misty weather. The air was thick with heat and moisture, and despite the fact that I can't drink coffee before yoga (no bathroom breaks), I was super energized to bike. Luckily I was so excited for the exterior conditions, I decided to deck out in full rain garb, you know, the dorky rain pants over real pants, swishy jacket, and, as little cherry on top, a plastic bag over the saddle.

Upon exiting the yoga studio exactly 1 hour and 15 minutes later, I was surprised to find the heavens had opened up into a typhoon-ous downpour of blustery soakage. If you can't tell by now, I like to be a bit melodramatic about the weather. ANYWAY. I could barely see anything, the wind prevented me from moving but a mere few millimeters forward with every pedal. Oh yeah, and it was LIGHTNING! This may sound like a complaint, so let me stop and correct you right here. I effin love lightning. Maybe not while mounted atop tubes of metal, but at this point in the year, I'll take whatever Papa T-Storm bolts at me.

Happy March Y'all!

-The Velodict

Front'n

We in the Burgh were kindly reminded today that spring has not sprung.

The snow started later yesterday evening. Big fluffy puffy flakes began to innocently drift down to the streets of Pittsburgh. I don't know if anyone was prepared for the blizzarding mess that ensued into the early morning. 8 inches of mess. Come 7:45 last night, I decided that getting to my evening yoga class was an impossibility, and so I would have to wait till 6:15 the next morning.

I currently cannot decipher how I came to this conclusion, but I swear it was quite logical last night.

Come 5:45 this morning, I realized I would only make it to my class on time via bike. I layered up, and carried my bike one block over to a well traveled road, which was wet and sloppy, but the conditions certainly looked manageable. As my bike slid into the intersection at 44th and Penn, I realized how effin wrong I was. To my good fortune, no one was nutzo enough to be out on unplowed Penn before the sun came up. Which is also quite convienent seeing as my rear light was stolen last week. Halfway down Penn I saw a shadowy figure walking towards me. As I got closer, he glared straight at me and grumbled, "Whats with the front?" to which I throught, "Really? I am not fronting I just look goofy because I am trying to keep balanced!" Well, upon looking down, I realized my front light was out of batteries and so in retrospect he probably said, "Where's your light?" Whatever. Why are you walking in the street, man? Who effin knows, it's 6 in the morning asshole.

Nothing like starting a day with a little light-less off-roading.

We're not in Pittsburgh anymore

I hope everyone got out today and enjoyed some serious saddle time in the nice weather. This can't actually be Pittsburgh, can it? Happy Thursday!

Order of Operations

Whether the common cyclist likes to admit it or not, there are most certainly laws in place that dictate the hierarchy of right-aways. Put simply: cars yield to bikes yield to pedestrians (or as my driving record would indicate: cars yield to squirrels but DO NOT yield to telephone poles 10 feet from driveways). I tend to agree with the common laws set in place by the forefathers of traffic, but for my very own reasons. Allow me to introduce Cait's Order of Operations: A cognitive approach to traffic right-away hierarchy.

This theory follows one very simple idea: whomever has to withstand the elements the longest, gets the right-away. For example: its misting, and you cycle up to a wonky intersection (you know, the kind that aren't labeled and will forever remain a black hole of signage) and are received by both a car and a pedestrian. Clearly the pedestrian is the poor sucker who will have to deal with the onslaught of moisture the longest, and so to shorten their suffering, they get to cross first. The cyclist (you) goes second, because although you do have to deal with the rain, your commute is assumed shorter (yes, I realize this may not be the case, but I don't want to hear your stupid argument supporting the notion of biking 2 blocks and so on and so forth. Suck it up!) The car goes last, because not only do they not have to deal with the wind and rain on bare skin (yeah, it's windy too!), but they also get to listen to loud music.

So there you have it. It's a simple theory, but text-worthy. Feel free to disagree; we'll just settle it at the intersection!

-The Velodict

The Bike, the Baguette, and the Almond Croissant

I've always been a major carbs person. I can remember my dad telling me when I was 12, "If you keep eating loaves of bread for meals, you're going to get a belly like this [he then would point to his jolly beer gut, which, lets face it, is really like a liquid bread gut]." He may be right, but after I found La Gourmandine, a French bakery in Lawrenceville, I don't give a flying eff what kind of belly I get.

Now I don't want this post to be about food; this is a cycling blog for peter pan's sake! But, I do have to just take a bit of time to rave about THE almond croissants. I have never eaten something so perfect in my life as those little crispy, chewy, fluffy, dense, buttery, sweet melty-shmelty bundles of joy. Put simply: I teared up the first time I ate one.

The ride to work is always a treat. It's all downhill, and dodging potholes and riding on cobble makes for a fun terrain course. As an added bonus, the pastry shop is just at the bottom of the hill, after a good workout of coasting. Lately I have been visiting Le Gourmandine on my commute to work, oh say, 2 or 3 times a week. That probably totals 3 cups of butter for breakfast in a week, and not shmear less. I usually also grab a baguette while I am there, because who knows, I may feel the need to eat more bread during the work day. Here comes the dilemma: the 5 blocks between the pastry shop/bakery and work pose quite the challenge.

There is no way in almond-pastry hell I am not enjoying my croissant post-bakery doorway. And I am usually running a wee-bit late for work at this point in time. I also have to carry this silly baguette under my arm pit. So this is probably the scene for any other pedestrian on Butler Street around 10:30 in the morning: Girl in helmet awkwardly struggling to fiendishly eat her croissant, carry a baguette under her armpit, and balance her bike, all while walking to work. I haven't quite figured out the balance to it all yet, but maybe by the time I do, I can just balance my bike under my french-fueled pot belly. Once the walking is mastered, I should learn to juggle all these tasks while riding; upon which time I will probably qualify to join a circus.

But seriously, if Le Gourmandine was any more authentically French delicious, the damn bread would be subsidized.

-The Velodict

The Pant Eater (Sayanora)

"Tragedy occurred in Lawrenceville, Pittsburgh a few days ago. Pants by the name Navy McCorduroy lost their life to a bagofpotatosteadying-low squat. McCorduroy is survived by its loving yet sometimes neglectful owner and an identical twin named Gray McCorduroy. You were my friend since high school McCordy; I'll miss you dearly."

This is not the first pants-centric obituary I have felt obligated to write. In fact, ever since I became a cyclist, I have lost more pairs of pants/shorts than I can bear to think about. I have asked around, and I am not the only person who feels this way. Bicycles are serial killers of pants, and I haven't figured out whether to classify these selfish crimes as manslaughter or murder of the first degree. I don't have a motive yet, but I am convinced my bike feels some enjoyment out of thrashing holes in the inner thigh of every thing I wear.

The serious question becomes, is there a fund that supports grieving victims of lost pants, because I haven't been replacing the casualties and I am running out of bottoms.

Naked bike for life?!?!?!? (ouch)

-The Velodict

Oops

I swear I was a goldfish in my previous life, and my ancestral memory is still seeping into my present day ethos. No matter how many times I tell myself, "Now Cait, see that [insert any item]? Now don't forget it! You set it in plain view to specifically not forget it. Make mental note!" (yes I talk to myself in diatribe format). ANYWAY no matter how many times I tirade, I still go all space cadet on myself and forget!

Inevitably, my forgetfulness kicks me in the tookus. Just earlier this week, I propped up my bike for a little maintanace and set my lock on the living room table. I went through the whole ordeal of noting its location and importance. I proceeded to clean out my chain and bundle up (I swear this place doesn't get warmer than brutally cold). I walked out the door and made my way to Oakland's fantastic Carnegie Library. I don't want to sound like a wimp, because the place is only a few miles from my house, but my toes turned into ice blocks on the way. Upon arrival, I was overly relieved to see the mountainous majestic that is the Carnegie, knowing well that it housed nice warm nooks and crannies for me curl up in and get work done. I even looked forward buying a strong coffee to expedite my thawing. I walked over to the bike racks (only two there...so sad!) and then it hit me...I forgot my damn lock! Effin goldfish!

Naturally, in my mind, my ride back was much colder and windier than my ride there. Perhaps even more tragically, I had no coffee at home meaning hot tea to drink instead. Great. Earl effin Gray. (Again a dramatization, I really do like earl gray).

Happy February everyone! One month closer to spring weather!

-The Velodict

The Negative Files

So we are living in the negative, temperatures that is. My poor long-haul is not looking her best. The snowy/salty/dirty roads have done quite a number on the frame; rendering her a ghost of her former self (seriously she is all white with salt...spooky!) I vow to dedicate part of my day to some genuine maintenance time with her: grease the chain, clean out the gears, wipe off the mucky muck, and pick out all the shit in my tires. Speaking of gears, I recently encountered my first gear freeze up. I think all the shit in the road and the cold totally effed with my back derailleur. Thanks Surly for my sweet convertible shifters ( When your shifting goes awry: simply convert to friction shifting!) I once heard freezing gears is the only good good utilitarian excuse for riding a single speed, but who needs an excuse to ride in the cold?

Due to the frigidity yesterday, I decided to take the bus to the Pittsburgh Center for the Arts. I assumed my commute would be much warmer if I took public transportation. WRONG! The bus only runs every hour on Sundays, so while I barely waited for the ride out, I just missed my ride back and had to wait 45 minutes until the next tropical paradise on wheels arrived. I went into total cold shock, and frantically called my mom begging her to look up the next bus time. Somehow knowing the countdown of icy doom was better than no knowing. I even started to get all irrational, envisioning my toes were actively chilling into a frost bitten state. I guess this is what you would call a break down, although I 100% defend my state of panic.

Lesson learned: It is to best bike in the cold than wait around in the cold. Thus, I vow either:

1) continue biking everywhere or I go

2) not go anywhere when the wind chill is -2

-The Velodict

Cruising the Capital

Just spent a few good minutes of my life debating capitol vs capital. Then I realized I had Google. Praise ye lord Google (seriously, if that corporation stages a grand coup and takes over the world, I don't think I would complain. I may even celebrate).

ANYWAY

Just spent the past few days in D.C. with my ol' pal Kerm, and because Kerms is such a awesome friend, he had an extra bike for me to ride! Riding in D.C. was quite the experience. I forgot how fun mountain bikes can be. You can literally smash over ANYTHING you want. For the first time in quite some time, I was hitting every pothole I could. Just to smash over them!

I was surprised that such a young city yielded very few cyclists (particularly commuters). I'm going to give the city the benefit of the doubt and assume I was just in the wrong part(s) of town, but seriously, I saw very few bikers. And even less bike racks. Get it together D.C. Perhaps this phenomena can be attributed to the fact the D.C.'s metro system rocks fuzzy socks! Or perhaps it is because the cars don't seem to take too kindly to bikers in their lanes (I found it best to stick to quieter streets). Either way, I thoroughly enjoyed my little Tour d'Captial. The city is pocketed with lots of cool communities and the brick buildings are painted with an array of colors. A visual treat!

Speaking of visual treats, I got to watch this guy walking in front of me step in a giant dog turd. What made this particularly funny, was that he realized his misstep, and turned around looking all sorts of horrified. Not because he stepped in fecal matter, but because he thought someone might have seen the smashing of the turd (in his silly suite and nice shoes). And he was right. I did see him. And you know what I did? Well I tried to be nice and hold my composure, but I ended up giggling right in front of him. He then proceeded to turn bright red, walk across the street, and wipe his shoe off at a safe distance from the unsympathetic meanie (me). Ooops. Really what I should have done is thank him, because hell, who knows, that could have been me.

oh well.

-The Velodict

Bundled and Willing

It is burr chilly burr burr outside and I still saw 5 bikers tonight. Go us!

But Baby It's Cold Outside

According to NOAA (the best weather source ever!!!) all of Pittsburgh will be spending the next week in a apocalyptic freeze intermittently disturbed by the occasional accosting of crystallized dihydrogen oxide and putrid street slush. I freakishly love this!

I need to save some money up for those nice studded tires, but in all reality, by the time I actually have the financial means to pony up the cash, the temperatures will read sweltering. Such is life. ANYWAY. I decided to brave the cold around midnight last night. Carefully considering the temperature, I figured I had to bundle up nice and good like. A poor man's blanket, so to speak. After two glasses of wine, I ventured out on my 3 mile trek. The ride was fun, exhilarating really. I swear my feet were warmer than usual, and my legs pedaled with an unusually sound cadence. By golly I felt fucking great!

I arrived at my house safe and sound. Peering into my mirror, I noticed my bright pink and white facial features. My face seemed frozen in place. Seriously. Try as I may, I could barely furrow my brow. My glasses quickly fogged up in the warmth of the house, and in my balanced state of mind, I cracked up. I can still picture myself, tipsy, unable to see, laughing, and then laughing harder because my face wouldn't allow me to actually laugh. Nix the studded tire idea, I should really save up for a face mask instead.

Slipp'n and Slid'n

Sometimes, we all just have to learn the hard way. No better teacher than good ol' fashion pain, the bitch. Just when I was getting commuter cocky (I've ridden roads just about everywhere, no road can surprise me!), Pittsburgh sprung a little life lesson on me. Slapped me down a notch, and left me wimpering with my tail between my legs, so to speak. Okay, enough euphamisms and onto the carnage!

I always find winter weather to be most pleasant during a gentle snow: the air seems peaceful, sounds insulated, motions cushioned. Real poetic stuff that gentle snow is. And it was during a billowy dusting, that I learned a little physics lesson.

Thanks to Surly, I felt well equipped to ride the glistening streets. Sadly, Surly did not ensure proper brain function. As I pedaled along in Oakland, I became lax in my attention to the snowy road, or lack of road. It turns out, all manholes and street grates are made of steel, which provides much less traction than our dear cobbled streets. My elbow, knee, and ego can attest to this fact, as they are all deeply bruised, if not shattered (please heal dear elbow!) One little mispedal, and I found my backend slipping left, my frontend slipping right, and my body slipping into, well, gravel/scarf/handlebar/pedal/dirty snow. Luckily, my elbow was there to break my fall.

In valient and heroic speed, a noble man swiftly yelled down the street, "Are you okay?" "Haha, sure am" I replied, hobbling off into the tragically poetic snowy night. I never liked poetry much anyway.

Junk in the trunk

Cycling Pittsburgh is fantastic. Yes, the terrain is hilly and steep; yes, the roads are crumbly and in tatters; yes, my internal navigational system (INS) is still in development, but honestly, I couldn't be happier. I quite like biking uphill. It gives me a sense of accomplishment, and I never turn down an opportunity to wear a shit-grin oozing of pride.

Yesterday, I learned from experience, that them thar hills are all child's play until you add one key element: the loaded pannier. After filling my saddle bags up with a ton or so of precariously obtained fudge (seriously, tons of it), I began my ascent up to good ol' Geneva. Now perhaps it was the order of fudge and chocolate creme chilling like lead in my belly, perhaps it was the fully loaded bags, but damn was I glad for grandma gear. The cold air filled my lungs with a burn, and my legs were reminded of days past traversing the alps. Worst of all, the guy in the fixed gear was kicking my ass up (so long shit-grin oozing pride).

So props to all those cyclists in Pittsburgh, carrying around 20 lbs. of gear every day. Ya'll are my heroes. Seriously.

-The Velodict

You take what road...Scoff

Phipps Conservatory today (super cool albeit overly festive). Despite the steep museum prices in this city, I am actively trying to visit all I can. I really need to snag myself a Pitt I.D. (free museum entrance). Along the way with a friend, I realized a very interesting fact about Pittsburgh biking.

Prelude: if you are feeling cartographically inclined, please open a google map of Pitt (or reference my hastily inserted one), and notice that there is absolutely no grid system to it. Some communities try, but they ultimately fail. This leads to the phenomena I aptly dub, "path preference".

Basically between any point Alpha and point Omegatron, there lay a myriad of viable routes. Each velodict seems to have their own personal path preference. That path is, of course, far superior to anyone else's path (dur). Even as a fledgling, I have developed my own personal maneuverable preferences through the city. This only leads to problems when two cyclists try to bike just about anywhere together. Each thinks they know the way, but if they are not leading, they are probably wrong, and will undoubtedly have to make a sketchy stop for an undoubtedly sketchy left turn that was "oh so unnecessary." Clearly the best way was to take the pedestrian bridge and not Craig to Forbes to Oakland Avenue. Right? ANYWAY. Just another crude observation as to why I love this place.

-Senorita Velodict

Velodict: the American Adventure

So I am officially solo now. No Scott, no Andrew, a lone addict to the art of biking. Well, maybe not lone; Pittsburgh has a great biking culture. In actuality, I am a small fish in the raging of velodicts, and quite frankly, this anonymity gets me really stoked! Nothing like cycling the veins of a breathing city.

I have decided to continue my blogging adventure. I pledge my many...few...one (is anyone out there?) readers to try to stick to the biking blog, but you never know what else may get tossed in pot.

January 2, 2011

Place: Pittsburgh

A new year, and some new goals: Fix up my apartment, sell some fine felted jewelry, write and illustrate my cookbook, and bike. Things are off to a good start. Today I fixed up the salt stained long haul, installed my trusty rear rack, and set of with my blazing red panniers. I assumed that I could easily locate the grocery in East Liberty/market district. Wrong. Turns out there is a huge set of railroad tracks, and the grocery is tucked somewhere between two bridges/elevated roads. Sometimes this city is quite confusing. That's probably why I also lost my way riding home. No problem though, I am just a little more Bloomfield savvy now.

ANYWAY. The sun was even shinning today; a rare mood-boosting power source that leaves my pasty face inexplicably shit-grinning. Fucking love it here.

-The Velodict