I try tri again

On America's birthday, my contemplations of repeating a fixed gear century were displaced by a volume of water, but my intended destination had been a loop up to Brattleboro, Vermont with its benign river valley route distinctly friendly to riding a bike that doesn't coast.  Yesterday's forecast traded rain for heat and enticed me to give that tri-state wander a try again, although when I went out in the morning to grab a bike, it was last year's side-of-Batchelor-Street find, the blue Kabuki, that called most resoundingly to me, so the fixed gear adventure will wait for another day, and I coasted up to Vermont, well, at least a little coasting.

And my pace, it was also coasting along, metaphorically.  I was out for a few ticks more than ten hours for a what Google claims was a little over 100 miles, and I didn't even swim to complete the tri theme unless my habitual dip in Batchelor Brook once home counts.  Mellow rides are a good thing.  Years ago, my friend Gary Douville had marveled that his easiest rides were the ones with me, with the marveling coming from the fact that I was generally considered the odds on favorite to win any weekend's race back in those days.  As I've often pointed out, the ability to go quickly doesn't automatically dictate the need, although yes, many never properly develop their slow skills.

No, not a nautical blog, 

but you know I can't resist a homophone like that.

So I road, and I rode easy, so I rode longer than someone moving more hastily.  That means I looked at things and truly existed in my environment instead of merely passing through it.  And yes, I stopped at my favorite thrift store in Brattleboro (after I found Jandd panniers there, that truly seated the hook I'd been nibbling) to find it closed on Monday, and so settled for a consolation stop at the Salvation Army store in Turner's Falls.  No enticing finds there either, but a big grace of biking to stop, certainly more than half the fun comes prior to arrival regarless.  My favorite stop, however, reacquainted me with the spring water source on route 142 south of Brattleboro which was a particularly valuable find during Covid restrictions.

Natural spring

100% Vermont organic PVC pipe!

As I may have mentioned slightly less than 1,000 times, I like old bikes.  No, this isn't some sense of retro chic fashion, but rather that they are the products of a time before the bike industry had decided the way to sell new bikes was convince riders that they needed the latest gizmo that made their old gizmo obsolete, at least for a couple years before the next latest gizmo arrived.  Bikes are bikes, and it seems like old ones make less pretense about that.  They also can draw out contact a with a different, dare I say better, class of people, like the gent stationed at the exit of the Brattleboro market parking lot with his sign soliciting alms.  He recognized the old bike and told me about his original ten speed from a brand he couldn't recall but knew morphed in Fuji.  He'd given it to his daughter who'd ceded it to a thief by leaving it out unlocked.  Aboard my old bike, with its variant of cool, I helped spark a fond memory and came away with the charming story instead of merely waiting for a light to change.  What was I saying about truly existing in one's environment instead a just passing through it?

More connecting with old friends yesterday

To close with a bit of bike geekery, a few weeks ago, I'd finally swapped the crankset on the Kabuki from one that limited me to a 42 tooth smallest chainring to a beloved Maxi crank with 110mm compact road bolt circle from decades before the bike industry had figured out to market it as such.  I started with 38 and 50 tooth chainrings, and yesterday I confirm there's no need for me to have the option of pedaling the bike even that quickly, so a swap to 34 and 46 teeth is on it's way.  I did mention enjoying the skill of slowly pedaling, right?  Plus, it gives more time for me to make gear ratio calculations in my head while I ride, which yes, of course, I do.  On long rides, even I need a distraction from my sense of humor now and again!

Yes, more evidence it rained a lot, 

but honestly, it's just the mountain biker in me loving the dirty sharrow!