Sitba

Sitba as multi purpose cargo vehicle!

 

Yes, that's a lawnmower. 

Spring cleaning!

Well, kind of of the house, yes, since I'm teaching a sauerkraut making class tonight, and the only time J and I really clean the house is when we have people coming over.

But specifically, I mean of my phone, and the photos that are building up on it. So there absolutely may or may not be a sudden rush of blog posts of not, um, entirely timely travel, food porn, and other such shit. But c'mon: when is food porn NOT timely?!?

Here is my beloved Sitba loaded down like she likes it. I don't have any recollection where I was going with my big suitcase on my bike. Memory, such a fickle thing.

And here is delicious vegan food porn from the Little Grill, an awesome worker owned collective in Harrisonburg, Virginia, from our recent road trip. Tofu Rancheros on top, and the delicious Lambert's Platter on the bottom:

Lambert’s Platter (V)
Tofu scrambler, soysage, and fried potatoes covered in groovy gravy. Served with your choice of bread.

RETRO DIRT

This is returning unneeded dirt on my beloved badass bike Sitba. Around eighty pounds of dirt. Newly built and filled raised bed in the background.

I have no idea why, when I re-sized for posting, it turned black and white.

Always hit it with a hammer.

Well, so, that kinda sucked. But not quite as badly as it could have. Here's a long story about bikes, locks, and how I spent a couple of my hours last night.

It started when I rode my bike down to Whole Foods to buy some produce for dinner. My whip was the trusty Sitba. I locked Sitba up with my decade+ old Kryptonite U-lock, the combination model. Essentially an older version of this lock:

I've had it since long before I started law school, so... that's a while. No, it's not super high security, but I've long liked the combo lock, and visually it looks strong to non-pro bike thieves. In significant part, it's visual deterrence: a smart bike thief will skip over the U-lock and go for the cable lock most every time, unless they know bikes, and have plenty of time to spend on stealing.

From a user perspective, it's quick and easy.

Yeah, well, it's quick and easy until it gets stuck and you can't open it.

Basically, you turn the numbers to your combo, then push the button right to release the lock. The button was stuck. Really stuck. I tried and tried it, tried to leverage it with my bottle opener, tried every possible angle. No dice.

So I called J, who was riding home from elsewhere, and asked her to gather a bicycle liberation kit: the 4.5" angle grinder, extension cord, ear and eye protection. And kind of on a whim, a hammer. (Hey, why not, right?) And a printout of the spreadsheet I keep on the computer for insurance purposes, detailing our bikes including serial numbers, and hopefully the receipt for the bike. I also pull up a photo of myself on my phone with the bike, and if needed, once it's cut off, could pull out the seatpost and turn it upside down, and my business card (folded into quarters and taped) will fall out. Basically, conflict management with cops and security if J can't find the receipt or other clear proof I own the bike.

I then went in and explained to Employee A at customer service what I was going to do. Basically, make a big ol' loud hot mess right in front of their store. Employee A is totally cool with it: oh, and I can borrow their cutter, no, even better, she'll get someone to do it for me. I'm doubtful that they actually own an angle grinder in the store, but she gets Employee B, who clarifies that it's a set of bolt cutters, and he can't do it for me without me proving it's my bike, which I'm completely comfortable with, and it's kind of moot, since bolt cutters won't work anyway.

So Employee B gets Store Manager A, who is super sympathetic, agrees the bolt cutters won't work, and is highly enthusiastic about my angle grinder plan. Absolutely, anything he can do, of course I can plug in to their power outlet, yeah, sure! I say my wife is on the way, I'll let Store Security Guard A know when I'm about to do it. Sure! Great!

So I stand around outside for a while, keep messing with the lock, have a nice conversation with Homeless Guy A with a bike, who I'd given money to on my way in to the store. (I also gave money to another guy on my way out. Apparently good panhandler karma doesn't translate into good bike lock karma.) Homeless Guy A is chilling out at the outside tables in front of Whole Foods, which Parking Lot Security Guard A and Off Duty APD Cop A don't dig, so they hustle him out of there with a mix of fake friendliness and slightly cruel sarcasm. I glare from about ten feet away, but they ignore me. Probably for the better to avoid direct conflict, since I'm going to look like a bike thief in a few minutes.

J arrives, I go back inside and mention to Store Security Guard A what I'm about to do, and he's almost as enthusiastic as Store Manager A. (And doesn't bother to inquire whether I own the bike.)

First power outlet doesn't work, second one father away does, so while J is unraveling the 100' extension cord, I decide to bang at it with the hammer, mostly for fun. Two bangs on that nasty little button, and it opens up just fine.

So we collect our little middle class bike theft kit, I put the bike on the back of the car, and Store Security Guard A comes out to congratulate us, and tell us to have a good night.

The moral of the story? I dunno. Maybe that being a white middle class Whole Foods customer with power tools is a really effective modus operandi for being a bike thief? Or maybe: "always hit it with a hammer." Yeah. Maybe that.

Bike porn, food porn, booze porn

Yep: this post has it all!

My lovely bike. I recently took off the milk crate, and it was kind of amazing how much lighter and more nimble Sitba feels without it.


I used to, uhhhh, hate bloody marys. My sample size? One. Unfortunately, it was after running a hot, fast 10K in Denver some years ago, and they were giving away free bloody marys with some top shelf vodka. I took one sip, and nearly had to spit it out. Then last year, I bumped into my friend J4 at Atlanta Streets Alive, and we popped into the Corner Tavern, where J4 introduced me to how delicious bloody marys can be, if made well. The not so secret ingredient? A little bit of high quality stout! The above bloody mary was at J4's house, before the Inman Park Festival.

This was the bloody mary fixins bar.

Speaking of the Inman Park Festival, yeah, well, it sort of sucks. I'll leave you to judge the above image (hints: yes, that is a Volvo crossover, I think an XC60, and yes, they were an official vendor for the event.)

When was the last time you cooked 10 quarts of coconut vegetable curry on camp stoves? For me it was last weekend. (And this won out of four dinners over two nights in our friendly but fierce little competition.)

This is what happens when you organize a cycling event for 400 people, are are somewhat obsessive about diverting recyclable and compostable material from the waste stream. Yes, that is my kitchen floor.

Busy busy busy. Today Atlanta, tomorrow Costa Rica, next week West Virginia. Whee!

Family Joad Style

Bet you can't guess where I am :
J and I did a bunch of cleaning before a recent (lovely!) visit from A2. As part of this, we revisited our need to get rid of the crappy green thrift store suitcase that I bought (on a trip with A2!) at a thrift store in Denver for $7. It served its purpose then, which was getting a bunch of bike stuff back to Atlanta, but, well, it kinda didn't roll.

So we filled it up with a bunch of other stuff we needed to donate, and did the logical thing: strapped it to the back of my bike. J and I then rode to the always miserable Lenox Square Mall, only to find that the Goodwill collection trailer that used to live in a parking lot behind the mall is gone. No indication on the website, no signage in the lot.

We call to confirm the other collection center still exists. J goes into the mall to scout out replacement suitcases (we're really picky: we want a hardside 19" or 20" spinner that will absolutely fit in overhead bins. When you fly as much as we do, it's nice to be able to predict your suitcase will absolutely fit.)

I ride three miles up Peachtree Road to the new Costco location which is, inexplicably, located within a couple miles of the other two Costcos in Atlanta, all three of the min the northern suburbs.

The only notable thing on the ride was some pedestrian who, as I rode by, offered the unsolicited advice "get your ass out of the road." Thanks, asshole. Maybe next time. Or not.

I then get to the brand new, just constructed, built to suit Costco, to find that it has NO BICYCLE RACKS. Fail. Serious, serious fail. So I lock my bike to a pole. Inside, I find a suitcase that is basically perfect, for $50. I buy it, and to the significant amusement of the woman marking receipts at the door who sees my bike helmet, proceed to strap it to the top of my bike.

Here's the story (were you getting bored yet?) So I get back to Lenox Square, and we still have to ride about seven miles back down Peachtree Road, then a couple miles up Collier Road, to get to the Goodwill donation center that is actually open. How are we going to manage this, you wonder? Here's how:


Ohhhhh, yeah. Sitba kicks ass. Even the three cars engaging in a loud and reckless illegal street race on Peachtree Road near Piedmont Hospital gave me wide berth with this.

Dear Denver,

I missed you. I didn't miss the chronically late Amtrak, though Union Station left me alone for the hour or so I carefully put Sitba back together, and Amtrak personnel from Charleston, WV, to Chicago, to Denver managed to inflict no damage, even though they screwed up her rear fender in the short space from Springfield, MA, to Rochester, NY in May. But I digress, sweet Denver.

I arrived, and you welcomed me, in late July, with one of those perfect Denver summer days: warm, clear, dry.

I visited your REI flagship.

I marveled at the fantastic bicycling culture and infrastructure.

I'm drinking Bruery Cotton, half price, and thinking about wandering to Tattered Cover for a while, then your gorgeous City Park.

Denver, when can we make it work again?

Pretty damn funny

I've never actually flagged something to Best of Craigslist before this ad:


Divorcing my almost NEW Giant XTC 2 - $750 (Cabbagetown). Seriously: go read this ad, and pay special attention to the pictures.

It's all the funnier to me since it's the same bike, and likely even the same model year, that I rode and sold to fund the purchase of Sitba.

I rode the crap out of that bike: used it as a year-round commuter in Anchorage, regularly left it locked up outside in snow and ice, hauled lumber and compost with it, rode it 26 miles on uncleared trails in -20 weather as training for the Frostfree Bottom that didn't happen.

All that said, though, at a nearly one for one exchange rate with the Canadian dollar, he's still asking more for the bike than I paid for it new. I have no idea what the hell is going on with the used bicycle market in Toronto, but from briefly perusing the other bike ads, I think this guy just really doesn't want a divorce. Maybe relationship therapy would be a good interim step.

O Canada!

Today I volunteered on an urban organic farm in Buffalo trellising tomatoes for four hours, then our group returned to the community center where we're camping on the floor and I facilitated a discussion of the legal and logistical issues around crossing into Canada tomorrow, then facilitated a discussion of the politics and social justice issues around borders. Then I spent about three hours fixing and fitting people's bikes for them. Then I cleaned my drivetrain.

Sitba is still performing like a rockstar, after rolling over 1,000 miles on this tour coming into Buffalo yesterday. She's the prettiest bike on the ride, but I can't tell her so: I don't want her getting a big head about it.

I'm totally loving this. I have a ridiculously great life.

Internet access will be limited or nonexistent while in Canada, since I'm unwilling to pay verizon for data or voice roaming unless it's a legitimate emergency. So, more blogging to come when we get to Detroit!

Day 2!

Sitting in a Subway in Hampstead, NC, as much to get out of the rain as to eat. Yesterday was 67 miles from North Myrtle Beach to Wilmington. Today is up in the air: either 35 or 45-50. Either way I'm hoping to stay close enough to the ocean that I can go for a swim. Sitba is performing beautifully, though I'd love to cut some weight.

More boring updates to come!

NEW BIKE DAY! WOO WOO WOO!

I picked up my new bike yesterday, and am totally in love with it. I actually sat on the floor last night and admired it. Yes, I'm a big ol' bike geek. Here's my new Surly Long Haul Trucker:

Not a fantastic picture, but many, many more will follow. I took some pictures for insurance purposes, before I start to put all sorts of crap on it. Now today I need to put all sorts of crap on it. It's a 62cm frame, with 700c tires, a beautiful Tubus Cargo rear rack, and just all around nice.

And in honor of New Bike Day, you should go check out this Dinosaur Comic. It's just a damn shame that "Sexual Intercourse: The Bike" is already taken.

And now, I need to fund the military industrial complex. Oops, I meant to say, do our taxes.