St. Patrick's Day. What Do You Wear? What Do You Ride? What Do You Drink?

This has been one of the warmest winters on record.  (It seems that we've been hearing that every other year for the past twenty or so!)  So, not surprisingly, we're having a warm St. Patrick's Day.  The last time I checked, the temperature had risen to 13C (65F) and was predicted to go higher. 

There is a "possibility" of rain, according to the forecast.  Still, I think I'm going for a ride, however brief, after work.

What does one wear on a St. Patrick's Day ride?  This, perhaps?:

You can get that jersey from AeroTech Designs.   Maybe you'll wear it on next year's St. Patrick's Day ride, along with this cap:

Then again, if you're like me, you don't buy cycling-specific clothing.  Maybe you'll get decked out like one of these folks:

Since the weather is warm (at least in this part of the world), perhaps something like this is in order:



From Eleanor's

or if you are in one of those places where this day's weather reminds you that Spring hasn't officially arrived yet, you might think of this:



From Eleanor's

or this:



From LJ World

Maybe you like to ride in tweed, or something that looks like it:



From Meetzorp

Then there is the question of what to ride.  This certainly is lovely:

 

Freddie Grubb track bike.  Photos from Megadeluxe

 

and, really, no less practical than this:

1953 Schwinn Debutante.  Photo from Meetzorp

As for me, I'll probably do my St. Patrick's Day ride on this:

All right. So the bike is English.  So are most of the bikes that have ever been ridden in Ireland.  So, for that matter was St. Paddy himself.

And how many of you are drinking Bass ale* today?

*=I'm not referring to Budweiser beer sold under the Bass name.

Do You Fix It, Or Keep On Riding?

If you've commuted by bike for any amount of time, you've no doubt had at least one flat.

It's one thing for your tire to get punctured and go flat immediately.  Then all you can do is to fix it and, if you're running late, call into the office (or wherever you work). Or, if you're in a place that has mass transit, you can use that.

On the other hand, a gradual leak presents another situation.  How far do you have to go to get to work?  How much time do you have?  You have to answer those questions in deciding whether to fix your flat or to continue riding.

This morning, about halfway to work, I noticed that my steering was a bit balkier.  Then, when I hit a bump, I noticed that the tire was soft, though not completely flat.  At that point, I was on Randall's Island--no subway nearby, and the one bus line that goes through the island doesn't allow bikes on board. 

From Tales and Fables

 

So, my choices were:

• Fix the flat.
• Lock the bike up and take the bus to the subway.
• Keep on riding with crossed fingers.

I had ridden about twenty minutes and would need about another fifteen to get to work. My first class would start in about forty-five minutes.  I probably could have fixed the flat, but I really didn't want to be pressed for time.  If I were to lock the bike on the island, it would probably be bit safer there than in most other parts of the city.  But getting back could be a hassle.  And, really, I didn't know how much longer I could ride on my deflating front tire.

Still, I chose the last option.  Even though I could feel, with every turn, the bike losing whatever handling abilities it had, I figured that I had a chance of getting to work before my inner tube completely lost air.  Also, I reckoned that if I couldn't make it the rest of the way to work, I'd at least be able to cross the bridge into the Bronx, where I could catch the subway (which I'd have to take for only two stops).

I managed to pedal to work.  For the last couple of blocks, my tire and tube felt like a half-melted marshmallow between my rim and the street.  But at least I still had some time to spare when I got to my job.

Now I'm about to go home--but I have to fix the flat first.  Oh well. 

When you realize you are riding on a slow leak, how do you decide whether to fix it, keep on riding or bail out?

The Journey--And Destination--Of My Rides

When I first became a dedicated cyclist--during the '70's Bike Boom--a lot of new adult cyclists were folks who were, had been or did not want to stop being hippies.  In retrospect, it makes perfect sense:  cyclists of the previous generation, who kept the flame lit during the Dark Ages following World War II, were countercultural in their own way.  

During the '50's, much of the American landscape and culture were being carved up to better accommodate the automobile.  Developing an economy and society ever-more dependent on the internal combustion engine was seen as a sign of progress, much as many immigrants and their children saw acquiring an automobile as a sign of economic progress away from bicycling, walking or taking public transportation to work out of necessity.

Continuing to ride a bike--let alone taking up cycling as an adult--was almost a revolutionary act under such conditions.  That, I believe, is the reason why the hippies who rode bikes in the days and years after Woodstock are logical descendants of those who rode in the Dark Ages.    Ironically, it is also the reason, I think, why the new cyclists of the Bike Boom actually had very little truck with those who kept the fire burning during the decade or two before them:  by the '70's, adults on bikes who could afford to travel by other means were becoming a more common sight.  So, riding a bike--especially for a hippie--wasn't such an act of rebellion anymore. If anything, it was one of the more socially acceptable things a guy with long hair and wearing torn jeans could do.

Still, for many, riding a bike--especially taking bike tours or camping trips--was seen as a way of "getting away" or simply not joining the ranks of those who made payments on cars and houses.  On the other hand, those earlier cyclists, who were bucking cultural and economic trends to an even greater degree than Bike Boom riders were, didn't seem to ride out of any sense of rebellion.  Most of them had regular jobs or owned businesses; most were also not adverse to the acquisition of property and wealth.

I have long valued older, more experienced cyclists for their wisdom as well as their insights, and even for their sense of humor.  And, let's face it, they show us that we (most of us, anyway) have to get jobs or negotiate the capitalist system in some way or another, and then find time and ways to ride our bikes in the midst of the chaos.  But I realize, as I get older, that it's really the hippie in me that keeps me cycling:  I ride in order to be free (at least for as long as possible) and that I need my freedom in order to ride.  

So, if you've gotten this far, you might be wondering what prompted this rumination.  Well, I stumbled across a blog by someone who "some would describe... as the old hippy who doesn't know the war is over".    Fred Bailey, the "old hippy" in question, lives aboard the Seafire, a boat he is refitting for voyages far and wide.

Actually, I didn't stumble across the blog itself.  Rather, I found, by chance, a photograph included in Fred's latest post.  In that post, he talks about his annual "pilgrimage" to the Fisher Poet's Gathering in Astoria(!), Oregon.   It sounds like a wonderful event:  Maybe the next gathering will give me reason to visit an Astoria that, I am sure, is different from the one in which I live.  

He took the photograph--of "the most westerly bike rack in the USA"--during that trip:



Photo by Fred Bailey, from Seafireblog.

I don't think anyone could create a better visualization of my cycling spirit, if you will.  The colors, the sights and the overall mood are my destination, whatever my cycling journey happens to be.