Monday, May 24, 2010

Maddog 3: Bitches 0

Two weekend rides. Crank burning rides. Dogs chase. Dogs lose. Bitches.

So dogs in Tennessee love to give chase. It's rather predictable, actually. Zoning laws in TN are rather arbitrary: in one locale, you can go from high end to trailer skirts in about 5 pedal strokes. But when you see a cluster of manufactured housing, you know there's a good chance a dog chase is imminent. One trailer cluster usually means dog tied to a rope to a tree. A cluster of trailers and the odds of at least 3 dogs off leash in one yard are pretty high.

The game works this way: at about 200 yards they pick up the whine of your chain or tires on the road. The littlest one's yap first. This gets the chaser dog's attention and they snub their smoke out and figure their angles to intercept. Now, fortunately, I've hit most of these cluster on a flat or slight downhill--the tension rises as the terrain climbs, but for some odd reason, uphill climbs have God's mercy. Downhill or flats is where the game is played.

If you spot a cluster of mobiles, there's only one thing to do: gear up, hammer down. If you can get at least 20mph 100 yards out the odds are even. Stroke it up to 23-25 and the god's begin to favor you. 50 yards is the usual site line for the bitches. They are prepped and ready, but need visual confirmation to classify chain whine before they can legally (dog coda) start the pursuit. They are fast, so by 49 yards out, they've snuffed out their cigarette and they engage the lycra clad prey.

25 yards out, they are a couple miles per hour slower, but are trying to figure the angle against yard debris, forever-parked-cars, and assorted outside storage detritus. For some unexplained reason, however, front yards are rather more pristine than expected and provide some favor-ability for the canine sprint.

At 5 yards, you're taking stock: is this going to end in a tie-goes-to-the-animal-with-the-most-teeth? Minor course and cadence corrections are needed. At one yard, you know you've won. So does the dog, but courtesy calls for at least 25 more yards of chase before the bitch throttles down and turns back for a well deserved smoke. I coast, savor the victory, but the barks alert the next pack of mongrels to my course.

D'em bitches! (By the way: I highly recommend "Raging Bitches"-- a great blend of belgian style and IPA beer.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Interstate Outlaw



Three rides, three days, and a mild case of illicitness.

After work mud ride at Haw Ridge. I'm getting used to de-ticking during and after a ride; I think it comes with TN riding. While one set of bugs were trying to eat me, I was ingesting about 5 lbs of flying protein-- the downside of being a mouth-breather during aerobic activities. So far, I haven't found the bugs here to be too un-tasty.

The trails on the other hand are some nice riding candy. Not a ton of work, but lot's of good pedal to fun ratio. The roots took a little getting used to and adjustments to tire pressure (learned quickly after the first few shock rebounds). Lots of twisty, rooty cuts where handlebars pass within inches of the trees. Occasional signs of poorly negotiated turns by others and--I would almost swear--face plants in scarred tree trunks.

Lunchtime ride. Within about a mile, I can be on back-country two lane roads where roll-y hills weave through dense forests or stretch along open pasture land. The strong sweet smell of honey-dew flowers perfume the ride. Dogs however, love a good bike chase which will benefit my sprinting skills and drills. So far, I'm still ahead.

Saturday morning. Ventured out along a potential work commute ride that was surprisingly not bad. A wide shoulder separated me from the busy 4 lane. Noise is the only downer here. Once downtown, I picked up the greenways that are growing within the city. They are pretty as they weave through forested sections of town; it's hard to even realize your in a busy area. They aren't fast though as they weave too much to allow you to open up. Still a good alternative to narrow surface streets that lack shoulders or bike lanes. I think the commute is feasable.

This ride took me to Harper's Bike Shop, where I hooked up with "Scapegoat" for a riding tour. He graciously (and briskly) took me on some stunning back roads along the Tennessee River that were virtually car free. The road swooped and climbed, twisted and rolled through some pretty country. Two good out-of-the saddle climbs--one lung burster and then we dropped in for the real test-- 3 miles down the Interstate (I-640)necessary for us to cross the river.

"Honestly, officer, it's the only way to get across" and "I'm new here, I had NO IDEA that riding on the interstate was illegal! " were my prepared responses. Fortunately, both are in storage for a future crossing (one I might add of necessity as the number of places to cross the river are really limited here). I have to say, though, interstate shoulders are wide, smooth, and fast while the road noise is quite low.

Now that I'm an interstate outlaw I feel somewhat... liberated. But, is this a slipper slope that may soon send me down a path of riding with other bicyclists wearing only a leather jacket? (ooo...wait, no. That sounds really uncomfortable. ) I don't know, but I fear for those poor auto-ists.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Something to Harper on

Bike shops are like hardware stores: eye candy everywhere, useful and useless accessories and tools hung from hooks or inside glass cases, wicked cool bikes, fat ass cycle seats, gizmos for every bike geek.

But, what makes them even more awesome is the pulsing blood beneath the surface. It's the mechanics and the clerks who know their shit, that bleed mineral oil, and wipe away tri-flo from their brow. They can tell a customer has a dragging brake--no matter how loose-- at 50 meters (and they know what that is), or that one missing chain link on your train is gonna bind up a big-high combo and do some damage even at big-mid range if you aren't careful. They know that the Turkey Warbble can be cured and that your caliper is a red hair off from scoring spokes. They can listen sympathetically while you lament your poor shifting problem and fix it with some lube better than a needless tuneup just by looking at your chain. They know if you suck or if you are prick just by your ride, but will still hear you out.

They are the vibe that makes the eye candy ring louder and makes you come back even if the shop is in a shit hole or out of your way.

I found one of those today. In 2 minutes, I knew I had a wrench that knew his shit and could educate me without making me to be the turd bowl. I finally get Mike.

Bike shops rocks. Harper's rules.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

Little Bear



Today I saw my first black bear on a bike. Well, to be clear, I was the one riding. He was halfway across the road (insert chicken joke) and paused to watch me, a strange lycra clad animal that stank like a skunk, sucked air like a cow, and sweated like a pig.

My first full road ride and I went south of Knoxville to ride in the Great Smokies on a stretch of closed road called the Foothill Parkway. While not ideal for road riding, I had the place to myself except for said bear and later a "b'rer fox". My route took me up a 9 mile segment of rough road and a long set of climbs. The views were stunning vistas of lush green forested hills--that is when I had big vistas that could be seen through this lush forest. Lots of climbing. Perhaps my 12/25 rear cog is not enough, or perhaps my legs could use some conditioning. I found myself bottomed out for miles during the climbs but, in defense, the grades could be steep.

By mile 14, I had doubled back to a trail that took me off the closed parkway and on to a small country road. Smooth, fast, and largely unused. Good thing it was fast as I experienced the other Tennessee wildlife: the bike chasing dog. I had read of such a problem and I got to experience it first hand. Fortunately, the dogs spotted me late and I dropped one quickly as I rung it up in the flats to about 23. Dog 2 was faster and nearly caught me to take home as a chew toy. Lucky for me though, he had no stamina and I dropped him before the next rising hill.

The remainder of the 32 mile ride took me along a gorgeous mountain stream as the road descended along its fall line to the flats where my car was parked. I did meet up with one rider on a tri-bike in the last 5 miles. We traded off pulling each other as we leveled out from the river road ride and onto the country road that cut through farms. We kept a good pace so by the time I had reached my car, my legs were spent out from the climbs and the final sustaining pace. But, this was a gorgeous ride and I hope a taste of things to come!

So a quick synopsis of my initial lessons of TN riding: narrow roads, great flats, long rollers with steep grades, trees, green, and fabulous views. And, no lycra clad bear bikers.