Tragedy

So for now, this isn't a problem since it's too cold out to ride anyhow, but, I have a confession. I don't even own a bike. I had a bike, of course. It came to me by magical means. It was my first road bike- a simple black Schwinn from probably the 70's or 80's. About a week before it was lost to me, I spent a while on the internet trying to figure out just what year it was and where it had come from. But I needed more time, I needed someone to look at it for me. Now it's too late.

This bike, that was faster than any other bike I'd ever had, first belonged to my boyfriend's mother, Vaunie. She acquired it for $25 at a yard sale in the Berkshires (someone didn't know what they had). When I saw it on one of our summer visits to see Lyon's parents, my jaw dropped, and I was horrible at hiding the fact that this was exactly what I had been looking for. I fell in love with it. I took it for a tour up the drive and down the road a ways, and I felt so cool, like a real cyclist.

The little mountain bike I was using to get around served it's purpose, but it also made me feel like I was still in elementary school. This bike felt big under me, a little wobbly, but aerodynamic, and fast. It felt like a grown-up bike. After the weekend in the Berkshires, we parted ways, but there was a twinkle in Vaunie's eye as we left.

A few weeks later Vaunie and Bill came up to visit, ironically, for Lyon's birthday. Before they left, Vaunie told me she had something for me in the car. I gave her a look that said, "you don't have to do what I think you're going to do." As she rolled the Schwinn up the porch, she stopped next to my old mountain bike and said firmly, "we're switching bikes!" It was the best birthday of Lyon's that I had ever celebrated!

I got a good run out of my new Schwinn. I road it to work in the next town over, around town, and down the bike trail that connects a series of Western Mass towns. It stopped feeling wobbly as I got more comfortable, and only felt faster and more stable. Then, one fall weekend, about a year later, Lyon and I decided to take one of our weekend trips out to the Berkshires. We loaded the bikes on the car, and took off after dark, for Lyon's hometown-West Stockbridge.

I always used to be paranoid about driving around with bikes hanging off the bike rack, and was a frequent checker of my rear view mirror. But I guess since nothing ever happened, I loosened up, because during that drive out to the Berkshires, instead of pulling over when I felt like something was wrong in the back with the bikes, I just kept driving. And on the Massachusetts Turnpike, going 70 miles an hour, when I felt a weight suddenly lifted from the car, I knew what had happened. "The Bikes!" I screamed. Sure enough, when I looked in the mirror, there was nothing there, no handlebars or wheels spinning in the wind as there had been just seconds before. "What?!" said Lyon, confused but panicked. "The bikes fell off," I said as I threw on my blinker and pulled over to the shoulder to sit and wait in the pitch black for someone to collide at top speed with our fallen bikes.

As I came to a stop, I turned in my seat to look behind me, and saw that car after car was passing, unharmed. But I knew what was surely coming, and I instinctively called 9-1-1. "What's your emergency?" I was asked. "My bikes fell off on the Mass Pike and it's completely dark and I have no idea what's going to happen," I answered. "Is anyone hurt?" "No, not yet," I said, imagining the impending 5-car pileup, burning bodies, carnage-all because of me. I was told that I couldn't preemptively call 9-1-1, but she patched me through to highway patrol, and I told them our location and situation. As I hung up, I saw a car swerve, but then make it by. I couldn't see the bikes in the road, but it was evident that they were in the far left lane where we had been-the fast lane. Then, it happened.

Sparks came flying out from under the car that hit, and then began to drag, the bikes. At first, the car was aimed directly at us, clearly steering towards the shoulder to pull over as quickly as possible. I watched it come towards us in slow motion, and simply let it happen. At the last second, the driver seemed to see us there, and swerved to pull in front of us. As it rolled to a stop in the shoulder, Lyon jumped out and jogged towards to the vehicle.

The driver was young, on her way home from a late night waiting tables at a near-by restaurant. Her voice shook as we spoke, and her hands too as she wrote down her information. We asked her if she was okay, if her car was okay, if she needed a ride. As I spoke with her and gave her our insurance information, Lyon went around front and removed the mangled bikes, as well as the car's bumper.

She wouldn't take a ride, and didn't want to wait for the police to arrive. So we looked her and her vehicle over and then sent her on her way with promises to make things right. Luckily, Progressive paid for all of her damage.

Before getting back in our car, and heading on our way bike-less, and shaken up, we stood over our two bikes, fused together at the handlebars. There was no fixing them-nothing to be saved, the wheels were wack and the frames were warped. Just separating them would have proved impossible. We hung our heads in silence and walked back to the car, ready to head in the direction of the Berkshires, where I would have to tell Vauni the news.

So that was that. I don't like to talk about it, and I can't believe we didn't secure our bikes better. Long story short, I'm in the market for a new bike. One I can keep for a while, and one I can ride South, down the California coast.

Biking

January 31st, 2010

Plans

It's been a while since I've posted about the grand cycling tour. But that doesn't mean it hasn't still slowly been in the works. I've brought the idea up with people here and there at friends' houses and such, and it seems that every time I mention our plan to ride our bikes south, down the west coast, someone else has a story about someone they knew who did a similar thing. Last weekend, though, a friend's roommate told me her brother had done exactly the route we're planning on doing. Highway 101, down the coast. It turns out 101 is a pretty popular destination for bicycle touring, with scenic ocean views to the west, and national parks lining the road to the east. These parks are even set up to receive bikers, with some of them having sections designated for bikers where the cost for camping is just $4 a night. Highway 101 hugs the coast all the way through Washington and Oregon and part of California. But around Humbolt county, it veers inland, because I guess the terrain is too severe to build a proper road. There is one though, that experienced bikers and hikers sometimes follow, but I guess it's in pretty poor shape, and is pretty isolated. Could we do that? Would we want to?

As romantic as it sounds to start off in Vancouver, I think we might just start at the tip top of Washington, because it'd be so much easier, logistically. We'll see. My dad's got a cousin in Seattle, and he and my brother stayed with him a few years ago. I wonder if we could fly there and make that city our launching off point. Maybe take a bus to the beginning of 101 and start rolling. We'll mostly camp, which will mean more gear and extra weight, and fewer showers, but it will be more fun that way. We've got Pete, the drummer from Lyon's old band the Amity Front, in Portland. I wonder if we could make a pit stop there. Then Paul, a friend I met in Barcelona, lives in Santa Cruz, and finally, Hina, my best friend from college, lives in L.A., so that will be our final destination. We were thinking we might take a bus from L.A. to Austin. It'd be kinda cool to complete the circle with Greyhound. Plane, bike, bus. Plus, we figure that will give us more flexibility for when we have to head out, rather than being locked into a return flight.

More research to do. Still have to look into gear, (including bikes!), budgeting, estimating how long this might take, safety, and other details. We've been "working out," though-which is funny. I've always been a dance and yoga person, and Lyon's a musician with asthma. We are truly starting from scratch here. We have a shared google calendar going, and we mark it every time we go to the gym with how many miles we did on the stationary bike in how many minutes. It is actually getting easier. For now we're not pushing ourselves. Just getting fit is key. The real training will come when the Massachusetts winter begins to lift and we can do some mini tours around the east coast.

Bicycle Touring

January 3rd, 2010

So this is silly, and maybe you already knew this, but it's called, "Bicycle Touring." I think I'd heard that phrase before, but never really thought about what it meant. Bicycle touring is simply when you set off for a multiple day/week/month trip on your bicycle. It's helpful knowing the appropriate term for what it is we're setting out to do. I've already found some helpful sites:

www.bicycletouring101.com
www.bikeforums.net

For now I'm just browsing the internet and bouncing the idea off people. And today I actually looked at a map of California. Could we go from San Fransisco to Los Angeles? That's 410 miles, which actually isn't as far as I thought it was going to be. According to Google Maps, it would take 5 days and 16 hours to walk it. Though Google does warn, "Use caution – This route may be missing sidewalks or pedestrian paths."

Tomorrow is going to join my gym, and I'll make it a point to ride 10 miles on the stationary bike. It seems trivial, but I guess one has to start somewhere.

Moore soon.

Alice

Biking the California Coast

January 1, 2010

My ears have always perked up at talk of people going on interstate bicycle trips. It seems romantic, but challenging; extraordinary, but humbling. I have always loved riding my bike, ever since I was a kid. When I was 12 my friends and I had a "bicycle gang" in the neighborhood where one of the activities on our weekend agenda was to ride around in a single-file line playing follow the leader. The first person would ride with no hands, for example, and then all of us would follow suite, lifting our hands off the handlebars, keeping our bikes in line just by shifting our weight slightly. And when I was riding on my own, I loved gathering speed down a hill, pumping my legs hard, hot Texas wind blowing on my face until I'd gathered enough momentum to coast. I was so confident and comfortable with a bike under me that sometimes I'd even stand up out of my seat at top speed, and lift my hands in the air, stretching wide while hurling to the next stop sign.

I'm no bicycle buff though. I don't know much about what's a good brand, and I can't fix anything on a bike beyond a chain that's come off its gear. These days, I ride in the summers when I have time, and even sometimes get up early enough to bike to the net town, where I work. But I still love it. Its certainly my preferred form of exercise. Running is brain-numbing for me, I get bored and impatient, and tired of course. But on my bike, I feel like I could go forever. I feel strong on a bike, and my scenery changes fast enough to keep me engaged. I don't feel bored, I feel inspired.

This weekend, at a brunch joint in Burlington, Vermont, we met a waiter who was quitting his job in a month so that he could fly to Arizona and ride his bike up to Vancouver. That's it! I thought, I have to do something like that. I'd been thinking about it anyway, because I have a big move coming up (from Massachusetts to Austin), which also means some time in between jobs. My boyfriend and I have been looking into different possibilities like traveling to Romania or Taiwan. But I want to DO something! I don't want to just buy a $1200 ticket to the other side of the world only to be a tourist. I want to accomplish something. I want to wear the same thing every day and be dirty and stinky and tired and meet new people (though I might not find anyone who wants to be my friend if I'm dirty and stinky and tired). And I want to see California. So riding down the California coast seems ideal.

I don't know if this is possible. I suppose I'd have to start training, and find a good bike, and research a safe path to take down the coast, and find out where we could stay along the way (a blend of campsites and motels). I guess I'd have to talk to people who have done something like this. I know a friend of a friend who biked from Massachusetts to Texas. I could start with her. I guess I'll have to make sure my boyfriend, Lyon, is on board, and figure out how much it all might cost. I think I want to do this though.