Forced Upgrade...Dura Ace At Last

The timing is never good for a mechanical failure, and the end of the summer is perhaps the worst time for a teacher. Nonetheless, I had to get my latest problem resolved immediately, and fortunately the good people at Chenango Point Cycles came to my rescue and I'm back and working, with my first Dura Ace hardware to boot!

This morning I drove to Endwell, my old hometown, to take care of important familial duties at the old homestead. My plan to precede the lawn mowing with a ritualistic ride on the cycling roads of my childhood was immediately thwarted by an inability to control my front derailleur. I've been warned that contemporary Shimano shifters are near impossible to repair, so I prepared myself for the worst, which ultimately came to pass.

Finding a bike shop with the proper hardware on hand and the flexibility to do the repair while I waited was a tall order, but with the AIDS Ride for Life coming in a week, this was a necessity. While Swans likely could have taken care of my needs in time, the weekday schedule was very complicated and the risk was too great, so I headed out to Chenango Point Cycles' new location on Park Ave. in Binghamton (the web site is not yet updated). After learning that my shifter was not repairable by them, with likely damage to some of the small internal parts, I was greatly relieved to discover that they had a shifter on hand. This is one of the most expensive parts on a bike to replace and the fact that it was a Dura Ace shifter rather than an Ultegra boosted the price a bit, but it was such a relief to have this repair completed. The good folks at CPC went above and beyond, making some adjustments to my rear brakes and recommending some upgrades as well. So now I have my first Dura Ace component, and who knows, maybe I'll gradually upgrade my entire bike to Dura Ace as parts break. Reminds me a bit of that Johnny Cash song...one part at a time, though it will cost me more than a dime!

The bike mechanic was so efficient that I was able to squeeze in my ride anyway, which was a nostalgic adventure on my favorite route during my teenage years. From Endwell I cut through Highland Park to Farm to Market Road, which I took up to the airport. Then I took Knapp Rd. to Dunham Hill Rd., then returned by climbing East Maine Rd. until it met up with Farm to Market. I'll never forget the time my friend Ted and I returned from a trip to the Airport on Farm to Market and we had an unfortunate encounter with an angry dog. Ted was ahead of me, and after he yelled at the chasing dog, the old hound took a chunk out of my leg! My mom was in the hospital that day getting minor surgery, so we ended up reuniting sooner than either of us thought.

No canine incidents today, just some great climbing. Though I had no stats to compare with, I'm pretty happy with my ride today, and can't wait to return for more riding in these beautiful rolling hills, which are similarly challenging to my favorite terrain in the greater Ithaca area. I ended up averaging 19.4 mph on this 25 mile ride with 2100 ft. of climbing.

Group Ride Debate

I've been following a fascinating discussion on the listserv for the Finger Lakes Cycling Club regarding the tendency for the bulk of the group to drop slower cyclists. There are many valid viewpoints, but I side with the all-inclusive approach to group riding. Yes, I ride as fast as possible during the AIDS Ride for Life as a personal challenge, but if I join a weekend group ride, I fully expect to sacrifice speed for camaraderie and coaching. For what it's worth, here's what I wrote:

At the risk of further extending a lengthy discussion, I just wanted to add a little personal perspective to this fascinating debate. When I was 15 and growing up in the Endicott area (mid '70s), I bought a crappy department store 10-speed, which was still way better than my tired, rusty 5-speed. My best friend's dad was a serious cyclist, and I wanted to ride long distances just like him. Sadly no one in my family really supported or encouraged my cycling obsession, but then I heard about the Southern Tier Bicycle Club, and started joining them for weekend rides. These were some of the best memories of my teenage years—there was always a small group of faster riders, but without exception there were patient adults who rode at my pace and encouraged me. I learned so much from these strong riders who sacrificed riding with a faster group to coach and guide me. If it weren't for these experiences, I would have never pursued my many subsequent cycle touring adventures and beyond. I obsessively studied their technique and their gear and asked a million questions, and they were unfailingly kind and patient.

While I haven't participated in any FLCC Sunday rides in a long time, it seems to me that a primary objective of these rides is to nurture and encourage those new to cycling. I happily sacrifice my need for speed to coach my 9-year-old son at a sub-10 mph pace, and have supported several friends as they have prepared for the AIDS Ride for Life. I believe that this kind of guidance is critical in encouraging young or new cyclists, and it will also cause our ranks to swell. I sincerely hope that there will always be special consideration given to the up-and-comers!

Forever Young

As an adult cyclist, every now and then I feel a bit self-conscious, riding with my tight-fitting fancypants gear on roads with drivers tucked in nicely in their cars. What are they thinking about these encounters? Are they mildly annoyed that they have to slow down for a little while and cautiously pass at the first opportunity, or are they simply amused at our peculiar costumes and mucus clearing methodology (don't ask)? I wonder, if they aren't adult cyclists, do these encounters stir some deep-rooted childhood memories of terrorizing the neighborhood on their chopper and performing dangerous stunts like standing on the banana seat as if it were a skateboard?

I can usually tell who's a cyclist (or cyclist sympathizer) and who isn't by how they pass me. Sympathizers usually go the extreme giving lots of room while passing, often crossing the meridian, and waiting very patiently. The alternative can be pretty damn scary. I've had too many close calls over the years with the oblivious, the angry, the distracted, and the purposefully indifferent, those who don't want to give more leeway than the law allows as a matter of principal.

As a young cyclist, I was pretty oblivious to my surroundings, but now I ride with a finely tuned sense of all potential hazards, including deer. (I've had an increasing number of encounters with deer of late, particularly on one section of Oakcrest and on Remington and Sunset.) As a child, I felt impervious to danger; as an adult, I feel on guard at all times, which is why I really like my Remington escape route [Remington must be the subject of a future entry].

Today I've been musing about why cycling is so appealing to me, and I think it's all about savoring and holding on to my childhood. So much of life gets complicated and conflicted, as we start swimming upstream, having kids, see our parents turn elderly, and started contemplating our own mortality. Maybe I'm just in denial, looking for ways to keep my young in body and in spirit, but I really don't think it's that self-conscious a decision. I just bike because it's more fun than just about anything. But maybe what makes cycling that much more joyful is the flood of positive childhood memories that it prompts. With all of the endorphins flowing, I tend to concentrate on the happier memories, and I often puzzle through what I did wrong in past encounters and life situations. I wonder if it's a coincidence that my best bicycle year in the late '80s is also the year that I've reconnected with so many childhood (and young adult) friends and acquaintances?

Becoming aware of adult cycling

At a certain point in my early teen years I became aware that adults rode bikes competitively and for fitness and adventure, not just for a casual ride to the store. This was long before cycle racing was a known element in most parts of the U.S. This awareness came to me around 1974 or 1975, thanks to my neighbor John's dad. John's dad (also named John) had a Peugeot road bike which was one of the coolest things I ever saw. Hopefully the picture is an accurate representation of this bike...I'm sure the younger John can weigh in on this. Seeing John head out and return from his cycling adventures really made an impression on me, and made me want to do something similar. This was years before the movie Breaking Away was released (1979), a motion picture that really raised the profile of cycle racing in the U.S.

While most kids were content to ride around the neighborhood, I always wanted to explore beyond these artificial boundaries. When I lived in Kobe, Japan (1972-73 when I was between 10 and 11 years old), I adventured all over the city, exploring nooks and crannies without my folks worrying about me. They started worrying after one particularly wreckless adventure. I neglected to stop at a stop sign and rode right into traffic. It was a tiny car that hit me, and more damage was done to the car than to my bike. I went flying and sprained my ankle, while the poor driver had a big ol' dent in the front of his machine. I was overwhelmed with guilt for years to come after the man came to visit me with a giant fruit basket and many bows of apology.

That incident clearly made me more aware that I had to be responsible in traffic and follow rules of the road like everyone else. I honestly have no recollection if John's dad wore a helmet, but I was riding with a helmet by around '76, for sure.

John's dad make quite the impression. I must have peppered him with questions about his cycling adventures, but my childhood memories are unfortunately very spotty. See John's comments below about his dad.

Ten years old

When I was ten, I was back in the U.S., living in Endwell, NY, a sleepy suburb of Endicott, birthplace of IBM. I have such vivid memories of setting up races up and down our hilly streets. Helmets weren't even considered at this time, and I probably terrorized many drivers as we zoomed around. Mostly my friends Ron and Ted raced around the block and then did stunts in the Catholic church parking lot. We were really into skidding out and popping wheelies, but I remember that I was always most interest in going as fast as I could.

I have no recollection about what kind of bike I had. I do remember that Ron had the coolest bike, and that I was very jealous. It looked something like the photo.

I grew up without religion, and recall one time that Ted and Ron dared me to go in to the church and go to confessional. I was very reluctant, but I confessed to ten years of bad deeds, as well as never having gone to confessional. The priest must have been a bit confused.