I've had a blog at this url for thirteen years, and put up over 2,000 posts... but we're going on hiatus. Maybe we'll be back; maybe not... or maybe a new blog will start somewhere else.
Some mental health issues have caused problems to me and people around me, and I've got to let go of some stuff.
Thanks to all of you who've followed, or checked in, or commented.
A year ago, I made a seatbag organizer bag custom fit to that extra-large Topeak Aero-Wedge bag that I (along with a number of other Free Wheelers of a certain age) like to carry (we're past the point where we're trying to get by on the lightest of bikes and baggage, and well into the "rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it" mindset).
Although it fit nicely into the seatbag, there were two things I never liked about it. The first is that I'd made it just a bit too small to get everything I like to carry. The other is that I'd used a brass blue-jeans zipper, and it never worked smoothly. Over the weekend, the zipper simply locked up; I had to tear the bag open (although I could still sorta use it), so I resolved to make another.
Having the old bag, I could use it as a pattern. I made the shaped sides about 3/8" longer. The sides are held together by a long, narrow rectangle of fabric. On the first one, I made that 1" wide plus the seam allowances; this time I raised that to 1 1/2". And I had a plastic zipper in the drawer that hadn't been used on a project that I thought better of before I'd actually bought the fabric for it.
Above, from lower left: one side cut apart with the zipper installed, the other side for the new bag; the side of the old bag that I'd used as a pattern. (Note to self: that right-side-to-right-side-and-fold-it-over zipper trick works a treat.)
The outer rectangle is sewn onto the side with the zipper in the picture above; the other side is at top, under the orange-handled trim shears.
Above, same as the previous picture, but other way up.
All sewn up in the picture above. I need to trim the outer rectangle piece (measuring around those curves is a PITA; I decided I'd just make the piece long and trim the excess. Your sewing teacher would not have approved). The piece is worked inside out; leave the zipper open and turn it right-side-out when done. You can see the finished product, filled, in the top photo.
What's in it?
The stuff on the right. From top:
NOT in the bag are two tubes (shown), a set of Allen keys, and some tire boots.
I like this bag way better than the old one.
*Tire Glider. It's worked sometimes, and the theory is great, but the notch that the wheel wall goes into when the tire is being replaced is too tight for some wheels. I've recently come across the Tire Monkey, with a wider notch for the wheel wall, and generally beefier construction overall. I've not used it yet, but I have high hopes. (Your best bet might still be the Kool Stop Tire Jack. I've got two. For the really reluctant tire, I've used the Tire Glider to keep the bead from falling off with my left hand, and the Kool Stop jack to force the tire on with my right. Don't get me started on Continental tires and tubeless-ready wheels.)
I posted this ride late Friday, after another disorganized week (The Excellent Wife [TEW] was out of town for a few days, and I was living a life of retired-bachelor dissipation in her absence). Despite that, I got twelve other registrants, some of whom planned to meet along the route (one of those was John W, who had warned me about the flooded canal yesterday).
With warmer weather predicted than recently, I decided to revert to several-layers-under-a-long-sleeve-jersey. My warmest seems to be this Briistol-Myers long-sleeve jersey in white and what I initially thought was pink in the dim light in which I was dressing, so I tied a pink bandanna around my left forearm as a handkerchief.
We left after a variation on my usual pre-ride speech (PFW ride-leader-meeting attendees: yes, I really do it before every ride), and headed up toward Blackwells Mills/Six Mile Run, where there was a porta-potty (evidently, there had been a dog walker around the back of the school, so the usual grass was not available to be watered).
By the time we got up to Amsterdam Drive, a couple of the riders let the downhill tailwind run away with 'em or something, and they missed a turn. I shouted after, but they continued, Well, if you're off the front, you're on your own, so I proceeded.
Several miles later, someone spotted them behind, and we waited. There was a remark made suggesting a violation of my no-drop policy, but I insist that the policy applies to those in back; club rules and my description make it clear that the policy does not apply to those in front.
Riders were better-behaved as we came down East Mountain, and rode towards Harlingen. One of the riders who had gone off the front stated he was tired; we discussed a possible shorter route for him to take back. I offered an escort; he declined (and made it back; I have since verified with the rider).
The rest of use went to Thomas Sweet.
Bad news at Thomas Sweet: they are moving to a new (nearby) location... but they may be stopping the coffee-and-pastry format to concentrate on ice cream and chocolates. I may need to search for a new rest stop.
While there, Roger M and Stacy P remarked on a certain feminine je ne sais quoi in both my outfit (so much pink and lavender!) and my gait. I laughed. My homophobe father would have turned in his grave to hear such a thing, if there were enough of him left to turn (we had him cremated, so even if his ashes are disturbed, it's unlikely anyone would notice).
Along the route, David G and I were talking about the ravages of time, and he said he was "gracefully embracing the frailties of aging", and I thought that was too great of a phrase not to be commemorated. Thanks, Dave.
John W had turned off the ride by the time we got to the Griggstown Causeway, but he would have had an "I told you so" moment:
It was closed, but dry. I felt like I was channelling Tom H. Another notch on my ride-leader top tube, or something.
Ride page. Once again, right in the middle of the PFW C+ range.
So I've been listening to the Maintenance Phase podcast, about weight, fat-shaming, diet culture, and the like, and during the most recent episode ("Doctors Have a New Plan for Kids"; no convenient way to link to it; go see the website), I was reminded of part of my most recent doctor's appointment.
I had gained seven pounds since the previous year, and the doctor gave me a (no doubt insurance-required) counseling on the dangers of weight gain.
Dude! Have you seen me?
I went out for a slow solo ride this morning (in order to be available to get The Excellent Wife [TEW] from the airport later). I was making up the route as I went, with sort-of the intention of coming back across the Griggstown Causeway.
About fourteen miles in, though, I was flagged down by John W, who stopped to chat for a bit. In passing, he mentioned that the canal was flooded. I had noticed that the water was high when I came across at Blackwells Mills, but I had been able to cross... so I presumed he meant at Griggstown, which is more prone to flood.
I turned around to go back to cross at Blackwells Mills. The water was high.
Adding to the entertainment at the time, though, were a couple of loose dogs (obviously well-cared-for, although I don't know anything about canine breeds or whatever), out for a stroll, and not really caring about the chaos they caused to the traffic.
In the last picture, you can see a couple of the drivers trying to round them up and get the off the road before they were hurt. It was clear I wasn't going to be able to add anything useful to the situation.
To satisfy a nagging little suspicion, I had my doctor send me the heights they had on file for me for the last three years.
There was no change in that little bit of time, but I'm an inch shorter (about 25mm) than I was in college. I'd thought I was still that height, but I'm not.
Over the past two weeks, I've lowered my saddle height by 10mm. Today, with no carbs for breakfast (just a couple hard-boiled eggs, and the quart-and-a-half of coffee I have every day), I turned in this ride:
Holy bananas; 15.6 average. That about a mile-an-hour faster than any ride I've done recently.
The sample size is too small, of course, and correlation is not cause, but this result is suggestive, nonetheless.
I finished the frock coat I was working on (see this post). I didn't put adequate interfacing in the collar or lapels, so they need attention, and it doesn't button well -- but I usually wear blazers open anyway.
I like it. (I like being a little over-formally-dressed at most occasions, anyway. Even though I'm retired, this will definitely get use.)
