Showing posts with label riding into wind. Show all posts
Showing posts with label riding into wind. Show all posts

19 March 2018

Say Hello To Dee-Lilah

I suppose Bill still falls into the category of "new friend" and "new riding buddy".  After all, I've known him only since October.

Yesterday he met my latest friend.  Now you are going to meet her, too.

Here is Dee-Lilah:





Yes, she is the Mercian Vincitore Special I ordered back in May.  Actually, she arrived a week ago and Hal, at Bicycle Habitat, assembled her for me.  I rode her home that evening. But work, other commitments and lousy weather kept me from riding her again until yesterday.

Before meeting up with Bill, I took her for a spin of about 17 kilometers.  That whetted my appetite for more time with her.




Our ride took us through a variety of vistas: spires and windows that justify Brooklyn's nickname "The Borough of Churches", neat row houses in western Queens, the nearly suburban abodes to the east, opulent estates that look out onto the bay and ocean from the Five Towns and the more ramshackle places on the way to the boardwalk at Far Rockaway.

My ride with Bill spanned about 115 kilometers.  So, in all, Dee-Lilah's second ride took me for 130 kilometers, or about 75 miles, of pleasure.





Even with such varied visuals around me, I could hardly keep myself from looking at her.  I mean, I still can't help but to marvel at this bottom bracket:







or these lugs:






All right, I know it's a bit presumptuous to say how beautiful one's own bike is.  But, on my way to meet up with Bill, a couple of guys were wheeling two pricey mountain bikes with all the latest gadgets off a curb.  They stopped themselves, and asked me to stop so they could marvel at my bike.




And, I was about four blocks from my apartment when another guy was getting out of his car and stopped to express his admiration.




It was a bit difficult to stand the bike anywhere, as the day was windy. (It's March, after all!)  But I think Bill got some nice shots of the head tube and other features of the bike.




I'll devote another post to more technical details for the bike.  For now, I'll just say the bike is very aerodynamic.  It must be:  I felt like I was flying. 







Welcome, Dee-Lilah!



27 May 2016

Fixed Into (And With) The Wind

Some of us try to create routes that are circular, triangular, trapezoidal or in geometric shapes with names I've forgotten.  One reason, of course, is to keep from taking a back-and-forth ride:  you know, the kind in which you ride to someplace and ride back to wherever you started via the same route you took to get there.

I'm guessing, though, that the majority of rides people take are of the back-and-forth variety (or what the French would call aller-retour, the same term they use for "round trip").  Those are, of course, interesting and fun in their own ways.

On such rides, the wind becomes more of a factor than on other kinds.  After all, if you're riding in a circle, there are parts of your ride in which the wind won't be a factor at all, and you will probably spend less of it pedaling directly into it, or with it at your back, as you might on a more linear route.

When riding back-and-forth, most of us probably would prefer to ride into the wind on the way out and to let it blow us back home, or to wherever we started riding.  At least, I know that's my preference. And I certainly got it today!



I got on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear some time after three this afternoon.  For the first five kilometers or so, to Woodside, I was riding diagonally into the wind.  But lwhen I turned south on 69th Street, I was found myself riding into the teeth of a wind that varied from thirty to forty-five kilometers (about 19 to 28 miles) per hour for the twenty or so kilometers I pedaled to Rockaway Beach.

Once I got there, I wasn't surprised to see kite flyers or a kite-surfer:



The latter "wiped out".  He certainly didn't have an easy time retrieving his board while holding onto his kite!

The temperature had reached 90 F (32C) before I started riding.  The air felt about twenty degrees F (or ten C) cooler on the beach, under a bright, intense sun.  In the middle of summer, people would go into the water, even though it would seem relatively cool.  However, only the surfer braved the waves:  The ocean temperature is still only around 55F (12C), cooler than most people prefer for swimming.

I could have stayed all day and all night!  But I had a couple of things to do tonight, so I didn't stay long.  Perhaps I could have stayed longer than I did:  It took me only half as much time to make it home as it did for me to pedal to Rockaway Beach!  

And, of course, you notice the wind you're pedaling into--or the one blowing you home--even more when you're riding a fixed gear!

27 May 2014

A Day At The Races, In The Town





Yesterday I rode out to Somerville, in part to see the races (some of them, anyway) and in part for the ride itself.  Also, it’s good—for me, anyway—to re-enact an old ritual every now and again.




Last year, I took a route I had followed several times before, through Newark and Jersey City and Westfield.  From there, I followed, more or less, the paths of the Rahway and Raritan rivers to Bound Brook, the next town over from Somerville.




This year, I decided to try a route I found on one of the map websites.  It looked promising:  It avoided a section of US Highway 22 on which I found myself very briefly but I wanted to avoid because the high point of it was finding a deer carcass sprawled across my path.


Well, I found myself veering off the route on several occasions:  There were series of turns that would have challenged even the best ballerinas.  You can guess what happened next:  I found myself on that very same stretch of 22.  Admittedly, I didn’t have to spend more than half a kilometer on it, but it was unpleasant enough, especially in light of what happened:  A section of my front inner tube bubbled through a cut in my tire and flatted---at the very spot where I saw the deer carcass last year.


A minor annoyance, I admit.  But I decided that this ride was going to be “perfect”—which is not a good mindset from which to set out on two wheels (or for doing very many other things, I’ve found).  I fixed the tube (I had a spare, but I figured the tube was easily fixable) and booted the tire.  During those few minutes, it seemed that the temperature rose by about ten degrees:  What had been a pleasantly warm day was turning into a borderline “scorcher”.  Beautiful as the day was, conditions were draining:  The weather had turned hot, with direct sunlight.  And I was pedaling directly into a 20-30 KPH wind.  I guess if I ever decide to ride across a desert, such conditions would train me well.


On top of everything, I’d forgotten my water bottle.  As I was getting dressed, I popped it into the freezer.  I sometimes leave it in for a few minutes before a ride on a warm day:  The water doesn’t freeze, but remains pleasantly cool for a couple of hours into a ride—by which time I’d need a refill.





What that meant were a couple of stops at local grocery stores for Poland Spring water and Gatorade, which I don’t normally drink.  I made an exception for the latter because I saw that I wasn’t sweating but my T-shirt was turning into a tie-dye collage or batik (choose your metaphor) of salt stains.  




Still, I enjoyed the ride, which I estimated to be about eight or ten kilometers longer than I’d planned.  I didn’t stay for all of the races:  I left just before five because I wanted to avoid riding in the dark through the desolate industrial areas of North Elizabeth and South Newark.  I made it to Penn Station in Newark just as the orange and red and purple of the sunsets (which are so colorful in those polluted areas) were turning into the metallic hues that reflected the new office and condo towers near the station.




Arielle, as always, made it a great ride.  And I am more and more convinced that the Ruth Works Brevet bag hanging from my handlebar is the best piece of bicycle luggage I’ve found in a long time, if not in my cycling life.


Oh, by the way, I rode—from what I measured on my maps—164 km, or a little more than 101 miles.  That means I rode my first non-metric century of the year.



(By the way, I've written a post about the town itself on my other blog.)