R.I.P. Max

I've just lost a friend.

You've seen him on these pages.  He's one of the most loving and friendly beings I've ever known. 

Sometimes he would climb on me while I was sleeping.  I didn't mind: When I woke to him, I felt the sun rising.  He looked like a sunrise.

I am talking about Max, the orange cat who's lived with me for ten and a half years.

He came into my life on 9 April 2007.  My friend Millie rescued him from a street near us.  She told me that when she saw him, she walked right up to him.  He did the same for me the first time I saw him.

What that meant, of course, was that he is anything but a feral  cat.  "He must have had a home before," Millie observed.  When I saw him, I couldn't not give him one.

The vet said he was between five and seven years old when I brought him home.  So, that means he lived about sixteen or seventeen years--a pretty good lifespan for a cat.

Even if he'd been in my life for only a day, he could have given me a lifetime of happiness:  That is what he carried with him, and couldn't help but to give.  He greeted everyone who came to my apartment--including Marlee, the day I brought her home--like an old friend and playmate.

He died late Sunday night, after I'd come back from a nice ride, had a sumptuous dinner and talked to my mother.  I wrote yesterday's post about the ride I took Sunday, the day before, because it was just too difficult to talk about Max.

He won't be waiting for me at the end of my next ride.  Not physically, anyway.  I believe, though, that I'll see him at the end of many rides for a long time to come.

Note:  In a sad irony, I lost another cat--the first one I had who was named Charlie--on 16 October in 2005.

Seasonal Indecision

Yesterday was one of those days that couldn't seem to decide whether it was very late summer or not-quite-early fall.  

My ride started in a cool mist on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear.  It was actually pleasant:  I felt every pore and orifice of my body opening in a very pleasant way.

I headed for the Rockaways.  The cool mist clung to silent streets, still homes and closed stores--and to me--as I spun through the western Queens neighborhoods near my apartment.  

But, after I crossed under the "el" (elevated tracks, or viaduct for those of you who don't live in New York), the warm mist turned into a mild steam bath on my way across Jamaica Bay to Beach Channel.  Then, as I crossed the Veteran's Memorial Bridge into the Rockaways--and from the waves and clouds of Jamaica Bay to the tides and sky of the Atlantic--I experienced something I normally experience in early spring:  the temperature seemed to drop 20 degrees (F).  That is normal in April, when the air temperature on the mainland might be in the 70s (F), but the ocean is only in the 40s.  Yesterday, however, the air and water temperature were probably not very far apart:  somewhere near 70F, though it felt cooler along the Rockaway Boardwalk.

It's one of those odd coastal days that I truly enjoy:  The sky is overcast, though still only slightly less blue than the sea on the horizon, and that cool mist swirling about me.  I rode under that sky, by that sea and in that mist all the way to Point Lookout.  

Then the clouds broke and the sun peeked through--at least as I looked eastward from the Point.  Behind me, conditions were the same as the ones through which I'd ridden from the Rockaways.

And that is what I rode in all the way home.  I didn't mind:  Such conditions are actually welcome, at least for me, during the last few kilometers of a 125 kilo fixed gear ride!

Comment Moderation

As of yesterday, I began to moderate comments.  So, if you don't see your comments right away, please don't panic.

I have started this practice because, lately, I've received quite a few "spam" comments.  Mind you, none were mean or offensive; most were non-sequitirs or were merely trying to sell us something.  But I don't want spammers to take up space on this blog, which should be for me and those of you who are interested.

I guess I should count myself lucky:  Until a month or so ago, not much "spam" found its way to this blog.  Hmm...Could attracting spammers be the price of fame? (As if I have gotten so much of that from this blog! ;-) )

I hope you all understand.

A Curious Vehicle

You know you're getting old when you mention a name that was on everybody's lips when you were young--which doesn't seem all that long ago--and a young person has no idea of  who you're talking about.

That happens from time to time when I teach:  I might utter the name of a song, band, TV show, movie or anything that was part of the culture or news when I was young and my students look at me as if I'd started to speak Basque.  

Something similar could happen if I say "John Howard" to a cyclist who's, say, a couple of decades younger than I am.  Actually, the young 'unz might think he was part of the British Invasion or some white-bread politician. 

But if you're my age, or not much younger, you remember that he was part of that generation of cyclists that put the USA on the bicycle world's map. His star rose as American racing--and cycling--rose from its "Dark Ages" during the 1970s.  

It's hard not to wonder what he would have been like had he been born, say, a decade or two later than he was.  Greg LeMond was no doubt a talented rider, but coming along nearly a generation after Howard gave him the advantage of having faced better-trained competition than Howard had at home before he went to race in Europe.  But Howard did well in a greater variety of events, including the early Ironman triathlons.  Moreover, Howard held a land speed record that stood for a full decade--a geological age in the world of sports records.

He also was something of a philosopher:

She's Back. And She's Like I Remember Her, Only Better!

She's ready.



In late June, I sent Vera, my Mercian mixte, back to England for some rejuvenation.  She was riding just fine as she was, but I wanted to fix a couple of things.  One was the seat lug:  I think someone tried to jam a 27.2 seat post in it when the bike really takes a 27.0.  As a result, I had to use a shim to keep the seat post from slipping.

Vera no longer has that problem.  The folks at Mercian replaced the seat lug.  They also took the old cable guides off the down tube and replaced them with bosses that can be used for shift levers--like the ones that are on the bike now--or the cable stops that are used with Ergo/STI shifters, which I would need if I ever change to bar-end shifters.

I also wanted to clean up the bottom bracket, headset and other threads.  Not surprisingly, they did a good job at Mercian--Hal, at Bicycle Habitat, told me everything went together easily.

So why, if I have worked as a bike mechanic, did I let him put the bike together?  Well, he's the one who introduced me to Mercians.  Also, Vera was getting special treatment, so I figured it was only appropriate to give the job to someone who's been working with bikes for far longer than I did.  Plus, he enjoys working on Mercians.


Finally, though, I wanted to allow Vera to be the pretty bike she is.  That's why I had her re-finished.  I liked the old finish (British Racing Green with gold transfers and lug lining) well enough, but I thought Vera should get a chance to kick up her heels.

I decided that I don't want all of my bikes to be the same color, but I want to keep them in a "family", if you will, of colors I like.  As I've mentioned, the Vincitore Special I ordered is going to be painted Lilac Polychromatic (#17) with Deep Plum Pearl (#56) head tube and seat tube panels, topped off with white transfers and lug lining.

Because of the slope of the twin top tubes, it's difficult to put panels on a mixte frame without distorting the proportions of the frame.  At least, that's how I feel.  So, I opted for a single color:  Mauve Pearl (#53), with white transfers and lug linings.

And I simply could not resist the '50's style headbadge.

I was pleasantly surprised to see a seat-tube transfer that matches the headbadge.

  

And, perhaps, one of the more esoteric decals of all:

I knew that Reynolds made "respray" decals, but I hadn't seen many of them.  

You may have noticed something else about Vera's new look.  Hal convinced me not to use metal fenders again:  He believes I broke a couple of pairs of aluminum fenders on this bike because the aluminum is thin and because I "squeezed" them into the frame.  He also convinced me that this bike would look better with black fenders than with shiny (or matte-finished) silver ones.

The SKS/Bluemels fenders Vera now wears have piping on their sides.  They reminded me, somewhat, of the "ribbing" on some of the classic English and French fenders--and the Velo Orange Facettes I had on this bike before the "makeover."

The piping, though, serves a non-decorative function:  They're reflective. 

The bags were made by Ely Rodriguez of RuthWorks.  I will most likely keep the seat bag on the bike, but I may use one of the other bags Ely made for me on the front, where I have a Nitto M12 rack.

This "makeover" didn't change Vera's ride.  Then again, I didn't want it to:  It's nimble and comfortable.  And, yes, stylish:  Isn't style the point of having a twin-tube mixte?

As much as I love Vera, getting her back now makes me even more eager for the Vincitore Special I ordered.  Just five more months, if all goes as planned!