She's Gone To A Farm, And We've Gone To Connecticut

In response to yesterday's "postcard" from Helene, "MT Cyclist" asked whether I've told my other bikes that Helene is now on a farm.

Actually, I've told all of my bikes except Vera, who has been in transit and arrived at the Mercian workshop today.  I sense she might be a bit stressed from the trip.  In addition, she's going to undergo a bit of surgery in addition to her facelift, so I don't want to burden her any further.

Of my other bikes, Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, seems rather nonplussed.  But I sense Arielle, my Mercian Audax, and the Trek I've been working on for the past few months (and have yet to name) are a bit more envious.  After all, they're made for longer rides and like the outdoors.  Moreover, I am trying to reassure Arielle that I will continue to ride her once I receieve the Vincitore Special I've ordered.

Today was the perfect opportunity for the latter.  It was warm, but not unusually so for this time of year.  And the humidity nothing like what I sweltered in as I rode the other day.  Plus, the clouds that muted this morning's sunshine broke up as I rode north and east from my apartment to...you guessed it...Connecticut.

Although I had the wind at my back most of the way up, pedaling against it on my way back wasn't noticeably more difficult, at least until I reached East Tremont Avenue in the Bronx, about ten kilometers from my apartment.  I found that odd because the Bronx becomes more densely built, more like Manhattan, from that point southward.  

Still, I wasn't feeling tired, even though I pedaled the entire ride on my larger chainring and shifted into lower gears than the ones in the middle of my cassette only when I pedaled up the ridge into Connecticut from New York State.

After a ride like the one I took today, there will certainly be more for Arielle--and the other bikes I have and the ones that I will have.  And, I'm sure there will be some great rides for Helene--yes, from the farm.

Another "Postcard" From Helene

Helene promised to keep me tell me about her adventures in her new home.  She's definitely a lady of her word:

Hi Justine

I thought I would take this chance to dictate an update on life in my new home. Here I am out in the pale sunshine. It is nothing like as warm as it was when I was with you and here June has been the wettest since records began! 

Lots of people have been staying here with us and coming out to look at me, the last one was called Karin from Germany who was sad that I still have parts missing and hoped that when she next visits she can take me for a ride. She is over seventy which I am told is not too old in human years and still likes to take ten day trips by bike with friends in Germany and with her cousin in the US.

As you can see I have borrowed some wheels and have my own Brooks saddle which is still high waiting for the chainset to be able to set a final height. My Ms tress was silly when she got my new happy stem and forgot to get the spacers to let me grip the bars properly. She did get a leather tube protector to match the bars and saddle to protect my top tube from scratches this needs to be carefully sewn on. What is money? Ms tress keeps muttering about having bought money from visitors who had the wrong kind of money so does not have real money at moment. She says that money lets her get parts for me. I thought that you just brought them home as presents…

I really need some gear levers, the only ones in a box here are on a clip which would scratch my lovely paintwork. I have been promised more than seven sprockets at the back when I get my own wheels later in the summer and the levers might not work with them. I am so glad that it is not me who has to do all the planning and choosing. I hope my new bottom bracket goes on this week now that we have the fancy tool to fix me. Ms tress seems to be getting ready for even more visitors and doing work round the garden but promises to devote herself to me once they are gone.

Say hi to Max and Marlee, I am sure that they miss me.

Love Justine Helene Mercia xx

A Worker Rewards Hard Work--With A Bicycle

Perhaps you frequent a store or cafe and see the same person behind the counter every time.  Maybe you've progressed beyond exchanging pleasantries and have come to know something about that person who makes your coffee or sells you a newspaper or stamps.  

Yes, such things happen here in New York.  But I'm sure they happen even more frequently in some smaller towns.  

While it's nice to get to know that person who makes your sandwich, doing so can also be a little sad:  That person might be doing it because of some unfortunate circumstance.  And getting to that counter every day could be a job in itself.

Such was the case of Johnny Phillips.  Every day, he walked two hours to the Circle K market in Springfield, Illinois, where he worked a ten-hour shift.  Then he walked two hours to go home.

Jim Copeland learned of his story because he stops at that Circle K store every night, on his way to work.  He knew that Phillips "had to walk through a bad neighborhood" and figured that "if he did all that, he was really dedicated."  So, Copeland thought, "maybe I could help him."

On his way to work, an idea popped into Copeland's head:  "What if I could find a decent bike at a decent price?" So he went--where else?--to Craigslist, where he found a suitable machine. He took it to a "bike nut" friend, who oiled the chain and adjusted the brakes.

On Monday, Copeland brought the bike to the store's parking lot, told Phillips to close his eyes and handed him his new mode of transportation.  One can only imagine the emotions Phillips must have felt, some of which showed on his face.

For his part, Copeland drives a truck for a postal service contractor, so I suspect he knows a thing or two about work and dedication!

A Very Expensive Rest Stop

How much home can you buy for $2 million?

You might wonder why I'm raising such a question here. It's not that I'm getting rich from writing this blog:  In fact, I haven't made a cent from it.  Then again, I've never made any attempt to monetize this site.  

The question entered my mind because of something I saw during my ride yesterday.

In some parts of this nation, two million dollars can buy you a veritable palace, or at least a mansion.  I have to admit, of the ones I saw in this article, I am partial to the ones in Poulsbo, Washington and Block Island, Rhode Island.  Perhaps those high wispy clouds tinged by the sunset make the one in Washington State seem even more beautiful than it is.  And I just might like the one in Rhode Island because I'm generally partial to New England.

So...what does $2 million get you in New York?

Yes, a toilet. 

This public restroom facility (I think that's the official name for structures like it.) is in Gravesend Park, Brooklyn.  While growing up, I spent a fair amount of time in that park, wedged between the 18th Avenue shopping area and a Department of Sanitation garage.

Can't beat the location, right?  Maybe that's why it cost $5000 per square foot:  more than it would take to buy the most expensive apartment in Trump Tower!

And, no, there are no gold-plated fixtures or marble ceilings.  It's just a basic public restroom with steel stalls and fixtures.  At least it was clean, which is all I ask when I stop to take care of my needs during a ride.

In case you were wondering:  It took seven and a half years to complete.  I bet it didn't take nearly as long to build this:

or the train line that ascends from, or descends to, the tunnel to the left of the photo. And I'll bet it will all last longer!

The World Won't End--Yet. I Just Hope This Journey Doesn't.

The tides rolled in, higher and higher on the rocks--closer and closer to me and Arielle, who took me to Point Lookout on one of the loveliest afternoons we've had this year.  

She was up for it, wind and all.  We rode into the wind all the way out, literally.  It blew from just the right spot on the compass--somewhere between East-Southeast, South-Southeast and East-East South, I think.  Whatever it was, it blew us all the way back to my place.

While she was soaking up the sun and wind--and I was getting burned by them, in spite of my third application of sunscreen to my arms, face and the back of my neck--I paid a visit to another old friend:

The Point Lookout Orca is a myth  of my own creation.  Which is to say, of course, that it's a rumor that, to my knowledge, has gone no further than this blog.  I had to assure him, Arielle and myself that whatever the tide was bringing in was no more dangerous--at least, not yet--than anything that might result when two thin-skinned, impulsive guys lead their countries.  One of them has a Twitter account.  The other has, according to scientists, an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile (ICBM).

I fully expect the guy with the Twitter account to use it to exclaim that he has a bigger, stronger missile.  But, because he needs the support of religious conservatives to undo everything Obama did, he can't let his warhead show.  At least, not too much.

That was not a dirty joke.  At least, I hope it isn't.  If it is, then I've just dirty-bombed.

Anyway, it might seem frivolous to some that I am off riding my bike when we might be in the most serious situation this country has seen since the Cuban Missile Crisis.  But,really, what else is there to do--besides peace, whether it's in one's own life or with others.  And, yes, I've been doing as much of the latter as I can.  The rides I take alone, like this one, enable me to do so as much as the rides I do with others--and the marches and everything else in which I participate.