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