Full of Surprises

Today my first hundred yards of cycling ended with me learning about Snaking the city's drains. The guys in the truck were extending a 2500 foot! cable into our old neighborhood's concrete pipe sewer drains. The newer drains are purged with high pressure water, but the old drains get the Rotor Rooter treatment. Just like my house did earlier this week. I had a brief moment of panic, thinking that my dislodged sludge had gone into the street pipe and blocked it, but the city guy said no, those drains are a foot in diameter or more. No chance I could have caused a problem.

Somehow my random riding style took me over to a little spit of land surrounded by canyons and one-way streets. It's almost The Land That Time Forgot. I once rented a 6-car garage over in this area, and then I went there frequently. Much to my surprise,  I haven't been back in 10 years or more.

My favorite streets in that area were full of long, low mid-century houses like the one I live in. I'd hoped to buy one in the LTTF, but never found the right place that I could afford. They have an awesome view of the city and the harbor.

Of course, no street is perfect, and in the intervening years since I was shopping, the houses have all been built up. Imagine the horror of the neighbors who were surprise to see this house spring up in front of their living room window which (formerly) looked out at the yacht basin.

Like many odd-ball houses, it's surrounded with chain link fencing, a trailer where the guard lives, and no recent signs of activity. I suspect things are tangled up with city permits and repeated appeals from the neighborhood.

In keeping with the Range Rovers spotted in several previous posts, I am contributing these two Land Rover Discoveries. The owner of this house obviously believes (as I do) why stop with one great car if you can have more than one of them? But imagine the monthly fuel bills of a household with multiple 10-12 mpg vehicles - that could open your eyes wide!

I rode home on the major thoroughfare, and I'm happy to report I was able to pass that much younger guy cycling ahead of me. And stay ahead of him. A most pleasant surprise.

How Do I Leave Thee?

The Blog Post Title today is a slight mis-statement of a famous Elizabeth Barret Browning poem:

How do I love thee? 

Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach ...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. OK, enough of that, on to the cycling.

The question is how many ways do I have to leave the house on my bike. The answer is Plenty.

Unlike many houses which are on a hilly, dead-end street, I have at least a dozen exit routes. Here is a map showing these ways to leave. The scale is one half-mile per side. Of course as is customary on treasure maps, X marks the bicycle garage, my starting place.

The GREEN lines show exits that require riding through the canyon or on a trail. The sneaky ways out. One of which appears to be blocked this morning!

The YELLOW lines show the ways I can ride on an alley (mostly paved; some dirt).

The RED are normal streets that you drive with your car (there are many more RED tributaries than I have counted).

The gradient (dark to light shading at 135° diagonal) portrays the slope of our hill. Up is at top left.

Routes 1, 2, 3, 4 and 12 are uphill (darker). The rest are downhill (lighter). If I had used a larger map, I could have shown that all routes go downhill pretty quickly - certainly within a mile. Which means they are uphill coming home (as I have complained before).

What's the point? Other than amusement for me and sheer amazement for my readers, this is a chance to reacquaint myself with Adobe Illustrator, the multi-layer, vector-based, technical-drawing software I used to make the map.

It also Illustrates the dilemma I face each morning. Which Way Do I Go?

Any "leaving home" choice must consider either (A) coasting, or (B) working hard in the first 30 seconds. Hmmm. Which way would you chose to start out? 

If I chose working hard, I'll get an immediate warm-up work-load. If I chose coasting, I'll be chilled. Today I just went up and played on the tractors for awhile and came home!

We're losing altitude!

My wife's favorite refrain - not while flying - but while riding our tandem, is We're losing altitude!  I was on my own today riding my Platano, but I felt the same despair - I'm losing altitude! I'm going to have to go uphill again, groan. There is no tilt (inclination) meter so sensitive as a cyclist's legs.

But in case you need one for your boat, Jeep or other non-pedal-powered vehicle, you can go to Tiltmeter and get an inclinometer of any kind. Theoretically they will warn you when you approach an angle that is dangerous (tipping over). Your guts will warn you too, but the inclinometer might give you an actual figure to write on the insurance claim form ...

Remember the Range Rover the other day in front of the beautiful Spanish house? Here's another one, the same color, only one block away! Then I saw a third RR up a driveway, in very bad condition. Another glut of look-alikes? Same as Mustang convertibles? I hope not.

Notice that this vehicle is on a very slight slope - iPhoto software says only 1% (but my legs noticed).

Rather than exhaust myself today on the hills, I headed for the river, where theoretically the bike path is flat as a pancake.

Eventually I got off the bike path and into civilization again, when I noticed yet another Red Ford Convertible. At least it has a black top. And it's a T-Bird and not a Mustang. I don't know why I discover all these Fords - I've never owned a Mustang, T-Bird or any other red Ford. I have had a Lincoln and a swoopy green Taurus wagon though (not my best car buy).

I cruised past Brad's office (a friend of a friend, met at a party recently). It's a nice-looking place. I've almost always had jobs in tilt-up concrete industrial parks or scruffy old houses - seldom in such stylish structures.

I'd been riding about 10 miles and I was getting hungry. Enough for today. I took the fast route home and was climbing upward to my place, when I glanced down a side street and spotted yet another old Ford. I had to make a decision - was I going to lose altitude? Go see it? Or not?

Yes. Of course I went to see it. I'm just a sucker for a pretty face. 

Paint's Not What It Used To Be

California regulates almost every aspect of our lives, but the rules controlling the escape of Volatile Organic Compounds (the odors that get you high off oil-based paint) actually do help reduce smog. They also have resulted in crappy paints that fade quickly. I thought about this when I saw this old CalTrans truck by the curb. It was at least a dozen (faded) shades of orange.

Some of our street signs are so faded out you can't read the names on them, which seems like poetic justice - a guy in a faded truck replacing washed-out signs and we (taxpayers) are paying for everything. And with clean air, we can now see clearly the financial costs of these regulations ...

At least it has been a beautiful sunny day. I spent half of the sunny morning on the roof of my house, running a plumbing snake up and down the sewer vent pipes. My arms are very tired. So I thought perhaps a nice level bike ride would suit me.

This street has a stripe that hints at being a bike lane. And for a few moments there were no cars. And it's a slight downhill. That gave me time to take the obligatory Mike on the Bike photo for today.

Notice how the shadows of the spokes are curved? I'm sure there is an answer to Why? that includes speed of rotation, camera exposure time, etc. But the traffic picked up and I was fearing for my life, so I forgot to think about why the spoke shadows are curving... and about the faded orange paint.

My attention was drawn away when I spotted this extremely nifty Chevy SportVan Travel Cruiser. I'd never seen that badging before. With a little searching (about 10 milliseconds on Google) I located the owner, Scotty. He has posted a long series of stories about van's restoration. If you want to see the report, click here! But don't forget to come back.

I like wacky utility vehicles, having been the owner of this beautiful Corvair Rampside Pickup for about a decade. And I still have a few more oddball vehicles around my garage.

Finally I rode back to my own neighborhood. Remember the steep flight of steps I showed a couple weeks ago on the cloudy grey Marine Layer day? This is the view DOWN.

Here's how the stairs appear looking UP from the bottom. I might have fainted a few times, what with the bike over my shoulder, but I think I counted 75 steps plus three steep ramp sections. I wished I had parked a camper van at the top of the climb, so I could take an immediate nap. But no, I had to ride another mile home.

I am too hot and exhausted to write the blog in the house, so this is coming to you from my front porch. Just before I fall asleep.

My Chain is Too Long

I  know it's a strange complaint, but I vaguely remember putting a new chain and freewheel onto my Schwinn about 20 years ago, just before I stopped riding. And now that I need low gear more often, I find the chain won't climb up because the rear derailleur rollers want to bump into the largest cog.

So I dug out my old tools. This photo shows most of them. They are Campagnolo (Italian), Mafac (French) or SunTour (Japanese). No blue-handled Park tools because they really weren't doing anything but wheel stands back when I was working on bikes. Now they are a good bike tool source.

If chain length adjustment is something you understand, then I don't have to explain anymore. Alternatively, go to Park Tool's site, read this article, and figure it out for yourself. Or if you have a problem, take your bike to a real bike mechanic. It took me only 15 minutes to clean the chain, remove one link, lube the chain and adjust the derailleur.

Most derailleurs have more adjustment that this Campagnolo Record so nowadays you don't have the same sort of adjustment problem that I do (I'm using a larger  freewheel cog than I should be). My derailleur also has lots of slots and holes in it. I drilled it out myself (he says proudly). When I did it a friend claimed the mechanism would break in no time. I claimed it would make me go faster. Now, 35 years later it hasn't broken and I have never won a bike race. Who's laughing now? (I don't know)

Anyway, after I shortened the chain a link, I went for a ride. The weather mirror shows that it's a pretty nice Palm Sunday in San Diego. Light winds, no steep hills, but I did still appreciate being able to reach that 28-tooth cog.

As I was riding along, I saw another darn Mustang convertible - but thankfully this time it was blue, the top was down, and there were people sitting in it having a serious conversation. I wanted a picture of it, so I rode by, stopped at the curb and waited for them to get out and go into a house. They drove off the other direction instead. Oh well, no Mustang photo today, I thought.

I rode by a house where my pal Steve K used to live. I love this house and I like the clean green Range Rover in front. This can be the car of the day, forget the Mustangs, I thought.

Silly me. Look what I found around the next corner! I especially like the extra-deep, chromed oil sump hanging down in the front, the ladder bars in the back, fastback body style, and the great flame job. 

This Mustang warrants an extra-large photo, don't you think?

Cool quiet morning

Saturday morning is a good time to ride. If there are any people out, they are quiet and moving slowly. I saw a trio of walkers, two different pairs of dogs walking their owners, a lady weeding in her garden, another woman in a nightgown stumbling as she fetched her newspaper from the curb, and a few cats skulking about.

I stopped to examine this extraordinarily blue Suzuki Hayabusa motorcycle! Not the usual thing to see parked at the curb - and there aren't that many vehicles on the planet that can do 300 km/h.

As I swept silently along the neighborhood streets, I noticed a nice whirligig (check the definition) with 4 sailboats whirling around. Actually the inner two whirled and the outer two stayed still. They were spinning very quickly for nearly no wind at all.

I got home just in time to see my own groggy wife standing in the doorway in her nightgown, looking for me, the cat and/or the newspaper. I had forgotten my on the bike photo, so took a quick snap of the bike and myself, reflected in the fun-house-mirror flanks of the Volvo.

In case you are not familiar with the physics of bending light, here's a sample instruction sheet for setting up your own carnival mirror! (Go here to order one)

Time to hang up the bike and the blog and go in for toast and tea.

In Another State

I saw quite a few exercise fanatics this morning, as I rode through Liberty Station shortly after 7 am. I'd guess women outnumbered men 5 to 1. Why? Men still indoors? Gone to work? Unwilling to get out in the chilly air? Who knows?

To get to my riding destination, I had to cross the major "going-to-work" road. Luckily it was quiet when I got there, and I could zip across 3 lanes into the left turn lane. The light was green as I approached - I love that! You can just see the marine layer hovering in the background.

Heading eastward, it looks ominously dark as the sun is fighting its way through the cloud layers. The old palms stand guard over me, and we all watch the jumbo jet lift off. [Click any image to enlarge]

Spinning around in the other direction, the camera lens opens up to show acres of grass where the parade field of the Naval Training Center used to be, and you see the enormous flag flying over the courtyard.

For some reason I really like riding on (in?) the grass, even when it's damp with dew. So I rode across the lawns until my bike was all wet and then across the pathways to the wilderness zone.

This is an area where either the budget ran out, or the conservationists won a small battle. Native plants, decrepit military remnants, and dog walkers rule this place. Several of them (dog walkers) glared at me as I ambled through the underbrush, pushing my bike.

The low angle of sunlight really strikes the pearl topcoat. The frame tubes and tires almost seem lit from within.

[Blog time is instantaneous, but in real time I rode home, had breakfast and began writing this up]

Now that I am writing up today's ride, I realize I have forgotten my car photo. Groan. Wait a moment, I'll go back out (no cheating allowed).  

[More real time passes, tick, tick, tick as I ride another mile to get a photo]

OK, I got a shot of that Cadillac mentioned yesterday. With little dew on its flanks and the brightening sunshine, it looks great. And about a mile long. Look at that front fender line! It's surely one of the most ostentatious vehicles of our time. And no surprise that it has Texas license plates. An old-timer told me once about the advantage of such a long hood and out-stretched bumpers:

"Son, when you scrape someone's car in the parking lot, you don't even feel it. It's as if the whole thing happened in another state."

Now You See Me, Now You Don't

Today's ride didn't start until 5:30 pm. That's late for me as I am usually cooking by now. But our schedules were all jumbled up today. I knew the traffic would be busy and dusk approaching, so I dressed the part.

Which picture do you like most? Watch Carefully. I am the model and my wife was the photographer. Animation is courtesy of Picasion (not Picasso).

Maybe I am harping on this too much, but I keep seeing near-invisible people while out riding my bike.  Here you can see what the local street looks like after 5 - dog walkers, skateboarding commuter, parked cars, moving truck (and cyclist). [Click any image to enlarge it]

So I dug out my safety vest this afternoon - bought on our last trip to Europe. These vests are required IN EVERY CAR in some countries, just in case of a breakdown, flat tire, etc. The French are taking "death on the roadway" very seriously. And stylishly.

I zipped around the neighborhood for a half hour, and came up with some candidates for the daily Car Seen on the Street photo. I had to give up on 76 Cadillac Eldorado Convertible (white over red, like all the Mustangs). The owners were sitting on the porch glaring suspiciously at me. So I settled on a Porsche GT2. A 2012 model is approximately $245,000 plus tax and license. Yeow! Five times what I paid for my house down the block (35 years ago).

After thinking that I am a bit under-equipped in the vehicular department, I decided it's getting time to ride home for supper. After my whining about other people, I don't want to be on these mean streets without lights.

Afternoon Rush Hour

I rode during afternoon rush hour today. In my neighborhood, that means from only 3 to 5 o'clock, as all the early-rising military personnel leave their bases and head home.

In keeping with this theme, I cut through the newish military housing area near us. I spotted this very nicely- and mildly-customized '60 Chevy. No door handles, less chrome, mag wheels, 2-tone paint. I love this shape. What a great greenhouse (as we call it in the car biz). Today's cars look like tanks with tiny gun slits for windows. This car exudes confidence, like the Jetsons, not paranoia like Mad Max.

I left the military housing and headed towards the seamier side of the tracks. Here's a clever homeless person's encampment. It's tucked into an intersection of two major roads. Highways even! He has cleverly put pallets on end, and covered them with grey blankets that look pretty close to the color of the concrete behind him. Hanging from the edge of the pallets are a dozen flowerpots! Why? Civic pride or a green thumb? He's close to our local nursery; perhaps an experiment in urban horticulture?

Here's a look from another angle. You can see that there won't be many stray dogs or children wandering into this campsite. The best thing is that it's not far from stores, post office and recycling center. A bicycle is the best vehicle to get to the spot, as you can hop off the road onto the island or hoist it up the wall. When safely hidden behind the pallets, it's as good as you can get on the street.

To gather these photos, I did something I rarely do - rode on the sidewalk. I wanted to get a closer look and didn't want to stop in the midst of the evening flow of cars and trucks.

Then I turned around and cruised along the main drag, stopping to check out the dune buggy / sand rail which I saw for sale in front of the smog shop. For only $12,000 this could be yours, with a supercharged VW engine, paddle tires included. Let me know if you want it.

I also took the time to get a Proof of Riding photo - as you can see, I'm on the Paramount today. I was going slightly uphill so couldn't stop pedaling, thus it took about 10 shots to get my foot into the frame. My camera is a bit slow at focusing on moving objects.

The on-shore flow can be quite strong in the afternoons, and I was beat when I finally reached home, riding uphill and into the wind.

Homeless in Hiding

How far do you ride? and How long do you ride?

These two questions are frequently asked by people curious about my bike riding. I dunno is the answer to both, most of the time. Today I decided to keep track.

By accident, I ended up riding from 9:30-10:30 am. One hour. Plotting my course afterwards on Google Maps, I learned that I'd ridden a 10-mile figure-eight, and I walked for about .35 miles across a sandy wasteland that I'd never realized existed. Let's call it 10.5 miles. Not a very fast pace, but it did include the walk, the stoplights, stop signs, a turnaround at the end of a jetty, and a break to say "Here kitty, kitty."

I started off facing with the usual morning hazards, amplified because Monday is trash day - gutters full of containers, large trucks throwing bins over their heads, and the middle of the road full of distracted drivers. [Click any image to enlarge, and hit the back arrow for your browser to return]

I rode along the river for awhile, with little vehicular traffic, but sadly seeing many people "sleeping rough" in the bushes by the cycle path. Homelessness is a tragic aspect of life here in Southern California. The energetic ones were trudging along towards breakfast or the aluminum can recycling center; plenty were still sleeping at 10 am. I give them plenty of room and respect what little privacy they have, avoiding obvious picture-taking. Our city estimates that 30% of these folks are mentally ill, compounding the difficulty of resolving the issue.

At one point I saw a triangle of land I hadn't ever known existed. I decided to explore. Two minutes later I decided I had to explore "on foot" as the ground was too soft for my skinny tires. 

As I was strolling along (avoiding encampments) I ruminated on the debt we owe to those who have gone before us - the bridge and road builders of the world. People (dogs, horses, mules) can walk almost anywhere - even wade or swim if we have to - but vehicles are only able to go where someone else has gone before to break a trail. Even 4x4s and mountain bikes aren't good at going truly cross-country.

A bright yellow bush brightened my way. A perfect time to do the "I'm cycling" photo for the day.

I rode out to the coast to give you a look at the Pacific Ocean. There it is. Grey. Matching the sky.

Hello kitty! What are you doing out here? Having a walk too? It showed no fear but I was surprised it was out here all alone. Looked very healthy and not abandoned.

My westward progress was blocked by the Coast Guard, who warned me that trespassing was not advised. Nor could I muck around with their navigational aids (lights).

No problem, I turned around and rode back, this time noticing a total of 16 cats sharing the rocks and pathway with the human homeless... On the way back to my house I spotted three very cleverly disguised encampments. You won't see them from your car, and that's intentional.