It's Ramona here, hijacking Linc's blog in hopes that some of his biker friends can help me out. Apparently the garage no longer has room for my disco-era purple Norco bush pilot and a new one is to take it's place. I'm so confused as to what kind of a bike to get. I've ruled out the cruiser bikes since I really want to be able to trail ride but have no idea what I should be looking for or how to size the frame correctly.
Right now, my bush pilot is a 19" frame and has been adjusted to "fit" me but I sort of sit over my peddles now because the frame is too big. I don't feel like I have great control on trails and my mozo's apparently aren't very great shocks...
I have a lot of shoulder/ neck/writs/back/hips and knee pain so I need something that is nice to my body. My physio therapist gave me a big lecture about needing to learn to become a cyclist (and listed many reasons why this would be good and Linc says he didn't pay her) and that I won't be running again (she says she had no idea that the rest of my family are cyclists).
I want to use the bike to commute to the store/library/physio/etc but also get exercise and ride the trails. Any ideas? Right now we're thinking either a 29-er with front suspension or a full suspension bike. Any thoughts or advice on that?
Anyone have anything for sale (I could even work it in so you could have my collector's bike in partial trade)
Oh- and I really would like an orange bike but will not be basing my opinion on the color like I have seen a mom and son do in a bike shop
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Spaghetti Spokes?
Ok, I've only spent about 2 hours completely taking the wheel apart and rebuilding it. I've got them all mildly tensioned and beautiful, ready to true (radially and laterally). Someone is going to say, "why didn't you just replace the broken spoke?" Well all the spokes nearest to the cogs were seriously chewed up from overshifting (3 times in races last year) so I wanted to replace all 8 of those.
Leonard Zinn has been my technical assistant. His book "Zinn and the art of Mountain Bike Maintenance" makes it look easy and it actually seems to be working. It's my first wheelbuild, and I'm excited.
These pics were taken before tensioning the spokes.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
One year later, one more cyclist
(little) blue bike with no pedals. Only now it's Meski! She's suddenly
taken a real interest and is actually lifting her feet, countersteering,
and leaning into the corners.
Paulos has come full circle and is now into driving more serious vehicles.
Photos courtesy the mother, as usual.
Spring has challenged our sledding.
make a proper place to sled yesterday.
After that, we gave in and had our first wiener roast of the year.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Ryan Leech, Monopoly, and the cold snap
I went for an evening bike ride with my two older kids, Jaydi and Tristan yesterday. In a prairie town.
Ordinarily, riding here is similar to riding the car around the Monopoly board. Except you can't afford to buy property. My point is the flatness of it and the 90 degree squareness.
The traditional coffee table contours of my hometown were blown to smithereens by two things: warm spell and cold snap. As soon as the thermometer stared to measure negatives again, and the fairweather types start to finger their command starters, the readside heaps of snow around town undergo a radical transformation.
The edge of every street is a quarter pipe. Beside every driveway- a launch pad for two wheeled madness. For a fading wanna-be dirt jumper, there is an instant two square miles of jumping, sliding crispy bliss - with no audience and no competition for space. In fact, in one hour with two of my dear ones, we saw not one soul on our side of any pane of glass. We all three worked the snow piles at a nearby school, tested ice patches, cut corners, flew, danced and flailed our way to wherever we felt like going. I felt like Ryan Leech with two brave Leechlings. Exhilarating!
Jaydi and Tristan loved the freedom of the night, the hard snow, and the courage that comes in the dark after bedtime. With Dad. Well, for my part, I can't say enough about the joy of all this, under a full moon, and the unseen smile of the real Trailhero.
Thanks.
Ordinarily, riding here is similar to riding the car around the Monopoly board. Except you can't afford to buy property. My point is the flatness of it and the 90 degree squareness.
The traditional coffee table contours of my hometown were blown to smithereens by two things: warm spell and cold snap. As soon as the thermometer stared to measure negatives again, and the fairweather types start to finger their command starters, the readside heaps of snow around town undergo a radical transformation.
The edge of every street is a quarter pipe. Beside every driveway- a launch pad for two wheeled madness. For a fading wanna-be dirt jumper, there is an instant two square miles of jumping, sliding crispy bliss - with no audience and no competition for space. In fact, in one hour with two of my dear ones, we saw not one soul on our side of any pane of glass. We all three worked the snow piles at a nearby school, tested ice patches, cut corners, flew, danced and flailed our way to wherever we felt like going. I felt like Ryan Leech with two brave Leechlings. Exhilarating!
Jaydi and Tristan loved the freedom of the night, the hard snow, and the courage that comes in the dark after bedtime. With Dad. Well, for my part, I can't say enough about the joy of all this, under a full moon, and the unseen smile of the real Trailhero.
Thanks.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Something to aspire to
Two weeks ago my great aunt Helen died. It was my privilege to join the family at the funeral home for a time of reflection, sharing, and thanksgiving for her life. I didn't know her very well, but appreciated the glimpse into her life given by the others who talked so passionately about her character, love, and also her ability to make great buns.
The thing I want to speak passionately about here is not that. It's something my own grandfather showed me when we were leaving. I had been sitting with my dad, my uncle, and Grandpa. We all were about to leave at the same time, and stopped at the guest book. Here's an approximate version of the dialogue:
Uncle Bruce: Should we sign?
Me: I guess so.
Bruce: [signs]
Grandpa: [producing a pen from his pocket] You can sign for me too. I can't write anymore [laughs].
Me: You can write.
Grandpa: What I really want to do is return this pen. I came to ________'s service here a few weeks ago, and when I got home, this pen was in my pocket!
We all got a good laugh. The pen was not even a monogrammed special pen. It was labelled from some local business. But Grandpa thought it was important enough to keep it in mind and ready to return.
The thing I want to speak passionately about here is not that. It's something my own grandfather showed me when we were leaving. I had been sitting with my dad, my uncle, and Grandpa. We all were about to leave at the same time, and stopped at the guest book. Here's an approximate version of the dialogue:
Uncle Bruce: Should we sign?
Me: I guess so.
Bruce: [signs]
Grandpa: [producing a pen from his pocket] You can sign for me too. I can't write anymore [laughs].
Me: You can write.
Grandpa: What I really want to do is return this pen. I came to ________'s service here a few weeks ago, and when I got home, this pen was in my pocket!
We all got a good laugh. The pen was not even a monogrammed special pen. It was labelled from some local business. But Grandpa thought it was important enough to keep it in mind and ready to return.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
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