Hotter Than...

Today was so hot...


Today was hotter than...


Today has been one of those days when, it seems, everyone has his or her own version of one of those two declarations.  Today was so hot that my lycra melted off me.


I could have used that line a few years ago.  These days, I don't own any lycra bike clothes, or much of anything in lycra.  So I have to come up with something new, I guess.


Being the religious sort that I am (ha, ha), I can't say hotter than aitch-ee-double-toothpick.  But it seems that a bunch of riders in Texas can.  They even have a ride named after it:  The Hotter 'N Hell 100. 

Now, I'll admit, I have never been to HHH (the last "H" is for "Hundred") or, for that matter, Wichita Falls, Texas.  But if it's even hotter than it is today, or they have days like this every day for months on end (as they have in the part of Florida where my parents live), I'm not so sure I'd want to go there, at least at this time of year.  


Now, I have ridden in the mid-afternoon heat of days even hotter than this.  So I suppose that I could condition myself for HHH.  After all, I have ridden a hundred miles on days when the temperature reached 100 F.  I admit, though, I haven't done anything like that in a while.


But something about the ride intrigues me.  Well, any ride with aitch-ee-double-toothpick in its name is bound to get my attention. The grandparent of all such rides is, of course, l'Enfer du Nord, or the aitch-ee-double-toothpick of the North, otherwise known as the Paris-Roubaix. It's held in early spring every year, and the weather has ranged from hot and dusty to windy and snowy--and everything in between.  At least, anyone who signs up for HHH knows it's going to be hot, or so I imagine.


Is that hot weather guaranteed?  If the day turns out, by some chance, to be more like a perfect spring day--say, 70 degrees F without a cloud in the sky or much humidity--can the participants demand a refund of their registration fees?


Hmm...What if a cyclo-cross race were held and all the mud dried?  Or what if there were no snow for Iditarod?  What would people do?


If you're reading this and you're going to ride in HHH, I wish you well.  Have fun!

A Tipping Point And A Sea Change

I never saw this day coming...

Most of us, by the time we get to a certain age, make this declaration (perhaps with a sigh) over one thing or another.  Some of us never thought we'd be working in the jobs or careers in which we've found ourselves.  Others never thought we'd see our kids (fill in the blank).  Still others never thought they'd see the day they'd buy a non-American car--until, of course, they bought their Camries.  And then there are those who never,ever thought they'd eat raw fish and rice until they had sushi.

Well, I am having a "I never imagined this would happen" moment.  In my case, it's neither a good nor a bad thing.  All I can say is that it, looking back, it seems inevitable (Doesn't everything, in retrospect?) and I'm rather enjoying?

So what is this milestone in my life?  Well, I now have five bikes.  That ties my personal record, which I last achieved about a dozen years ago.  However, I don't have any of the five bikes I had then. 

You see, of the five bikes I now have, I acquired three specifically because of something that's happened in my life since I had those other five bikes. And I got the other two because of the ways I think about my riding and my bikes has changed since my life-changing event.

Some of you who have been following this blog (or my other) may have already guessed what's happened.  I reached a tipping point last week when Miss Mercian II arrived at my door:  I now own more "women's" than "men's" bikes. Specifically, I now have three mixte and two diamond frames.

Hey, we're talking about something even more important--at least for me--than the Senate going to the Republicans or the House to the Democrats.  I can already feel the ground shifting under me or, at least, the road conditions changing under my tires.  Yes, it really is Ariel's "sea change" in The Tempest.

All right, so I was being just a little hyperbolic.  (Is "a little hyperbolic" an oxymoron?)  But just today it occured to me "girls rule," if you will, in my bike stable.  Back when I had those other five bikes, if you had told me this day would come, I would have said that you've been inhaling helium out of inner tubes.

I had thought about selling or giving Marianela away. The former wouldn't bring me very much cash, really.  The latter option might be a nice thing to do.  I've already given one bike to an organization that helps immigrant workers; perhaps someone else could benefit from the largesse. 

Then again, I could leave her locked up outside and use her for errands that are really short or that take me to high-risk places.  She's serving that purpose now, and she has been my regular commuter and transportation bike.  So she'll get a lighter workload, which she might appreciate. And I could also use her as a loaner or guest bike.

But most important, if I want to keep that majority for which I've fought long and hard ;-), I've got to keep her!

Stripping Marianela

Oh, the indignities of being a commuter bike.  


It's a good thing I didn't complete the one and only course I ever took in gender studies.  Otherwise, Marianela and I would really be at it.  And, really, in spite of what you may have heard about me, I'm really not the argumentative type. ;-)


You see, she is in the process of donating parts to other bikes, namely my new Miss Mercian.  She insists I'm stripping her.  I mean, today she had to endure being seen without fenders along a busy thoroughfare.  Imagine how you would feel if lots of people were looking at you after somebody took your fenders.


Not only that, the--She's insisting that I say "her"--Gyes saddle is gone.  Actually, she traded it for the saddle that came with the new bike.  

It would have been one thing if I'd actually finished that gender studies course and taken others.  But can you imagine what Marianela would be saying if she'd read The Handmaid's Tale?  She'd tell me I was turning her into a Breeder or something.  


Well, I'm not going to give her a copy of THT because, truthfully, it sucks.  It has plot holes you can pedal your Surly Long Haul through, and I simply couldn't believe that women had, in essence, developed a collective case of Stockholm Syndrome--one of the basic premises of the book.


And, let's face it, if Marinela is protesting the loss of "her" fenders and saddle, she has a mind of her own.  I respect her for that, even if I disagree with her accusations!