Shh... We're Having A Ride Of Silence

Carla and I took the tandem to the local Ride of Silence Wednesday night. It was a first for both of us.

I'm not much for bike "advocacy" (hence the scare quotes I insist on putting around the word). Do I believe that bikers have a place on the road? Sure. Do I believe that drivers should refrain from putting tire marks across a biker's back whenever possible? Well, of course. But I always have misgivings about some kind of organized "consciousness-raising" event that's supposed to deal with these issues. I'd rather see lots of bikers just get out on the roads and ride their bikes every day. Still, friends had told me that the R of S is a pretty moving experience, and I'm always up for a tandem ride, so we went.

Slight problem, though. The combination of no police escort (other than the lone representative of Des Moines' finest who bullhorn-shouted at us to quit congregating in the road pre-ride) and a ride leadership that seemed a little paranoid about the perception of bikers as stoplight-blowing scofflaws (thus, we were instructed NOT to cork intersections) kind of killed the experience for me. A big, silent, unified group of riders? That's a statement. Dozens of tiny pockets of silent riders getting stuck at stoplights, leapfrogging into and out of clusters, and getting strung out all over town? That's just a bunch of people on bikes who happen to be kind of quiet.

Getting a tandem going at a few dozen stoplights is kind of a chore, too -- sort of like a Mack truck working its way up through the gearbox. And, note to the racer dude in the all-matching-and-matched-to-the-color-scheme-of-his-bike kit who insisted on track-standing every intersection: One, nobody was impressed, and two, the Freddy Kruger nails-on-a-chalkboard sound of your brakes as you repeatedly demonstrated this non-impressive maneuver was NOT what I'd call "silent". (An admission that reveals my dark, twisted, gnarled inner self: I was secretly hoping he'd flub one and fall over, the way that I secretly hope kids on those stupid roller-skate-heel shoes will fall on their butts as they glide through the grocery store.)

Still, I got to spend some quality time with my better half on our two-seater, I got to see the whole Anderson Convoy (Tom and Holly on their tandem with the twins on their singles), I finally got to meet C's bikey knitting pal Jess, I got to check out Former Neighbor Steve's swanky new monster-cross gravel rig, and there were moments that I kind of felt what the event was supposed to be about. Maybe it wasn't a "powerful experience of cycling solidarity", but it was a good ride... and there's nothing wrong with that.

Tire Stuff: A Follow-Up

My post about the humble Michelin Dynamic actually garnered an off-blog reader e-mail from (I presume) a real person who just stumbled into this dark corner of the interweb. I was more than a little humbled (though not as humble as the Dynamic) to find out that my audience is bigger than just the visible core that comments on my prattle. So, in Aden's honor (hi, Aden!), I'll try to address some of those off-blog tire questions here for the (questionable) benefit of all.

Aden writes:

I live in a relatively rural area in central Virginia, and my riding will be about 80 percent pavement (and to a lesser extent, hardpack bike trails)--lots of group rides, limited commuting, etc--and about 20 percent unimproved roads (dirt/gravel), fire roads, and the like--just casual outings, nothing that would really qualify as "mountain biking". So should I go with the 700x28s or the 700x32s (my rims are 15mm wide, inside measurement, BTW, and I'm a light rider at 145 lbs). I'm sure the larger tires would be smoother riding and perhaps better on the trails, but I'm also concerned about weight and shooting for minimal rolling resistance since the larger percent of riding I will be doing will be on pavement. What to do?

First, I need to disqualify myself on two counts. One, I've never been to any areas of any part of Virginia, so I can't say what's suitable for a rural area in central Virginia. Two, I haven't been 145 pounds since about the fourth grade (yup, I was a husky lad), so the world of the sub-150-pounder is about as foreign to me as the Klingon home world.

But, with those caveats in mind, here's my nutshell response: Read Volume 5, Number 1 of Bicycle Quarterly. Seriously. I'm just a subscriber, not a shill (and I have my issues with some of BQ's other research/hypotheses), but V5#1 (commonly known as the tire test issue) is a winner. It's the only research I'm aware of that attempts to put tires to a real world test (where most of us ride) rather than spinning them on a steel drum in a lab and calling it good.

In that real world, I've found BQ's somewhat controversial assertion that wider tires at lower pressures actually roll faster to be true. How can that be, when everyone else seems to say that the skinner and harder you can run your tires, the faster you'll be? Think about the roads you ride on. Are they perfectly hardwood-floor smooth? I'm guessing not. Mine are pretty bumpy. And when I hit those bumps, a narrow tire with a lot of pressure tries to bounce. Maybe a tire bouncing Aden's 145 pounds is no biggie, but to bounce my girth takes some energy -- energy that's no longer available to move said girth forward.

Now, hit those same bumps with a tire that's maybe 10mm wider than race rubber (at least 32mm) and running down around 70-80 psi. The tire deforms rather than bouncing, and the bike/rider keeps plowing ahead with a lot less wasted energy. This is all a grotesque oversimplification of the fine work in BQ, but it at least gives you the drift.

Aden also asked about weight, which can often be the bugaboo of this "wider is better" argument. After all, tire manufacturers have chased that "skinnier is faster" fallacy for a while now, so they assume their 700x32/35/38 offerings are only being snapped up by tourists and commuters -- folks who aren't trying to get anywhere in a hurry, but want a tire that won't flat easily. That leaves the fat-tire buying public with a lot of similar choices: thick rubber, chunky sidewalls, belts to deflect poky objects, and a lot of weight -- which can take work to spin up to speed. The Dynamic isn't bad in a 700x32 (at a claimed 360 grams, though I kinda don't buy that), but it still starts with a thick cap of rubber in the tread area that could be lighter/more supple.

What I'd like to see is an unbelted, folding semi-slick for 700c wheels in about a 40mm width. No extraordinary measures to prevent flats, just a reasonable rubber cap and nice flexible sidewalls. Proponents of the kooky 650B tire size (tee hee, how I love poking the 650B bear) claim that the 650Bx42 Gran Bois Hetre (imported by Bicycle Quarterly, so I guess I am a shill after all) is the tire I seek, but I'd like it in a normal diameter, please. And while you're at it, how about black sidewalls and tread? That's not a baguette in my pannier (I'm just happy to see you), so I don't need to look like a 1950s Frenchman headed out for a picnic.

Um, Aden, what was that question again?

"Have A Brew... Don't Cost Nothing"

I take a lot of static for my relentless anti-RAGBRAI stance. As a cyclist in Iowa, you're simply expected to prostrate yourself before the Great Emperor of Cross-State Rides, not point out that he has no clothes -- or in the case of RAGBRAI, wears a way-too-tight jersey that leaves nothing to the imagination.

But I have a real beef with what RAGBRAI has done to "cycling culture" in this state. Specifically, it's turned many group rides -- and, as I learned last weekend, more than a few solo rides -- into keggers on wheels. I've taken to calling it the Register's Great Annual Beer Run Across Iowa. For some RAGBRAI riders, "training" for this event is just an excuse to get drunk, bar-hopping with a veneer of physical fitness to make it seem "healthy."

Case in point: I was out for a ride last weekend when another rider came up alongside me. His greeting? "Where do you carry your beer on that thing?"

Seemed odd (especially considering that my gaping saddlebag could have swallowed a six-pack), but I went with it: "I don't pack any."

And here's where it got scary for me: "Huh. I started with eight, but now I'm down to just two. Guess it's time to head for home."

I told him to have a good ride, sat up, and let him drop me real quick-like. Puritanical? Teetotalish? Maybe. But would you drive alongside a guy who'd put down six beers? One swerve, one bad reaction, and we're both tasting asphalt.

Don't get me wrong. I like beer. I like biking. But -- save some extraordinarily stupid moments as a college student that I was lucky enough to survive and regret -- I don't mix 'em. My bike is my vehicle, and I don't operate my vehicle under the influence. I guess that's the thing that mystifies me... in most cases, I imagine these RAGBRAI bar-hoppers are responsible adults who wouldn't think of putting a key into an ignition after having a few too many. But that same responsible adult won't think twice about staggering out of a bar, saddling up, and wobbling off down the road, risking his own safety and that of his weaving peloton.

Maybe someone can explain it to me, because I just don't get it.

Good Rally... But Let's Follow Through

There was a rally on Wednesday riding down to the state capitol to raise awareness for bikers' rights on the road. If you like watching about 500 bikers go past a stationary camera to a soundtrack, be sure to check out the video of the event on YouTube.

I have to admit, after hearing that 500 people came out (I wasn't among them, due to the accumulation of several lame excuses), I was pretty darn impressed. Good start, Des Moines cycling community.

But what's next? It's not enough to crawl from West Des Moines to the golden dome in a 500-body amoeba, blocking traffic thanks to the Des Moines police escort that corked all the major intersections. You don't raise awareness with a one-time nuisance. Sure, our legislators saw numbers, but they'd already put up with a mob of d-bags with teabags that day, plus another mob whose marriages have apparently collapsed since our Supreme Court finally recognized the rights of all Iowans (take THAT, California! Iowa's more liberal than you! neener neener neener!) You think your poor state senator or rep had any energy left at the end of the day to be "aware" (or even placate via platitudes) a bunch of people out enjoying a bike ride in beautiful weather? Hardly.

So here's my proposal: Now that everyone's patted themselves on the back, I'll see all 500 of you out on the streets next week, and the week after that, and the week after that. Not in a lump, not with police protection. One at a time. Riding to work. Riding to the store. Riding to an I-Cubs game. Riding to a park. Just RIDING. Because if we really want to raise any awareness on the roads, that's what it's going to take. Drivers have to see bikers -- a LOT of bikers -- as a normal part of their day, traveling the streets like just another vehicle. It's not enough to put a "Share The Road" sticker on your roof rack and use it to drive your bike to our protected rail-trail sanctuaries.

I'll be out there. Will you?

Still Retro-MTB Obsessing

Now that I've finally outed my unquenchable thirst for that old-school, all-rigid mountain bike aesthetic of the late 80s/early 90s, I can't help but pick it apart. It's the curse of having been to graduate school in a liberal arts field: You can't just "like" or "dislike" something, you have to analyze (in stomach-churning detail) exactly WHY you "like" or "dislike" that thing.

For retro mountain bikes, I think it's the way that their underlying shape never seems dated (I know, talking about "underlying shape" ignores the twin elephants in the room of hideous 80s paint jobs and 90s anodizing. My blog, my dodge.) Take, for example, this Bruce Gordon Rock 'n' Road Tour EX. Admittedly, it's not really a mountain bike per se, but it's an example of a 26"-wheeled all-rigid bike you can buy in 2009. You don't have to squint much to see the direct lineage back to the brief era of late-80s drop-bar mountain bikes like the '87 Bridgestone MB-1 or the '89 Specialized RockCombo. And even though the Gordon in the photo is probably 10 years old by now (just judging by the vintage of its XT parts), it wouldn't look out of place up against today's Surly Long Haul Trucker (which owes a lot of its genetic code to Bruce Gordon's designs), save for the whole threaded/threadless steerer difference. Similarly, you could fire up the flux capacitor and send an '09 Novara Buzz V back to 1993 without freaking out the trail riders of 16 years ago with your crazy future bike. Heck, they'd probably call you retro for not having a suspension fork!

My more-purist pals on the iBOB list will claim the same sort of timelessness for a lugged road frame, but my eye doesn't see it. I really like the '71 Raleigh International I got from pal Steve, but it obviously comes from another era. Modern "frilly lug" designs (like those from Rivendell) strike me not as proof of the "timelessness" of that aesthetic but as desperate attempts to get back something that's long gone. And modern "Raleigh" (scare-quotes intentional) -- with its retro logos, 70s color palette, and sprinkling of Brooks leather eye-candy -- looks like a room full of marketers trying to add scratch-and-sniff "authenticity" to yet another lineup of generic imports.

I'm also willing to admit that maybe these preferences are just because I bought into the "rad, cool, extreme" marketing when I was an impressionable youth and never gave it up. Hey, my sacred cows tip over just like anyone else's!

Attack of the Bad Back

Not fair. Didn't I get enough "Jason as an old man" reality checking when I broke my leg?

I'm recliner-bound right now, basking in the warm glow of a heating pad as the wonky disc in my lower back sends lovely knife-like pains into my legs. Had a GREAT ride on Saturday morning before the winds picked up, then proceeded to cripple myself inexplicably during the post-ride cleanup. Smooth.

The fact that I made it to the recliner at all is a good sign, since I was so pathetic yesterday that I couldn't even put on my own pants. Just one more thing for my wife to put in the bulging file of "things they don't tell you about when they lay that 'for better or worse' line on you."

Thankfully, my local Angel of Chiropractic Care has a cancellation in about one hour, so I should be right as rain before end of day.