In Which I Hear The Sounds of RAGBRAI

Photo taken July 26 on hill on final day. Bikes make slight noises as they whiz by, the final day was sometimes characterized by lots of panting.

Some sounds are very familiar because I hear them every year,  some are more unusual, related to this year's bike ride.

But there is a unique set of sounds that I associate with RAGBRAI:

• The jets: That jet-engine like “whoosh” that you hear as a large pace line of fast road bikes zooms by going 30 mph on a flat. That's an annual sound.
• The low rumble: This year, there were many more of those “fat tire” bikes—those ones with tires that are three times as wide as the usual mountain bike. The bikers who are riding those bikes must be in fantastic shape, because they usually zoom by in the fast lane. They don't “whoosh.” They rumble like an approaching panzer.

We hear the sound of windmills.

• The wump-wump-wump: One new sound is the sound of a windmill. If you see an electric generating windmill at a distance, you might assume it's silent. But if one is close enough to a windmill, there is a low, dull “wump-wump” sound as air is compressed between the blades and support posts. Some of those windmills are massive and so, close up, is there distinct sound.
• The human-bike sounds: Bicycles and bikers make their own noises. The chains clank in their mechanisms; tires, when there are thousands of them, hum. You hear vocal signals, such as “bike on” or “rider off,” and, of course, the boom boxes.
• The human horses: In a town, there is a clipity-clop noise that bike shoes, with their metal clips to hook pedals, make on pavement.

You overhear things, too. An interesting bike passed me today (I wrote this Thursday), which caused me to violate my “don't shoot while biking” RAGBRAI rule—it was a 5-seater, with a family, mother, father, and three rather young kids, with the youngest on one of those pedal-bike attachments at the end looking maybe 6 or 7. They seemed a happy bunch as they zoomed by, but, kids will be kids.

Because mom was saying: “No bickering on the bus” as they passed.

Note bike at left--5 on one. The bus.

Well, I don’t know how many days the bus was on the road, but I hoped they enjoyed their ride.

The Word Spoken Here

The sound is very distinctive, but not easy to describe. It is percussive, like a drum beat, but not as “sharp.”

Too high to be a big drum, too dull to be a little one, a quick, visceral “thump” or dull “pop.”

I would sort of expect it to be metallic, to have a “boing” to it, but it doesn’t.

It is, blog pals, the sound of a spoke snapping.

And the word spoken then won’t be printed in this blog.

Broke my spoke on the way home last night—about 2/3 of the way through my commute. I had been pumping along, pushing my bike, in a chocolate-fueled frenzy to see my grandkids as quickly as possible.

But, rather abruptly I slowed my pace a lot and dawdled. I did not want a rear wheel suddenly giving way, at least not at full speed.

Well, I made it home, and the bike is in the shop. Could I replace a spoke myself? I suppose, but I prefer to let the pros handle this one so I’m sure it’s placed correctly and the wheel trued.

Well, it was so windy today that maybe breaking a spoke Wednesday was not a huge tragedy. And I should get the bike back and return to commuting the way it’s intended—on two wheels under my own power—soon.

Day 2, I Listen to the Whirring

Still on Ben's bike. I did not get a chance to take mine in this afternoon, so it may be a little while.

With rain in the forecast, I may not be on two wheels for the rest of the week , either.

Still, today was great. Cool but comfortable in the morning, gorgeous in the afternoon. I had to cycle over to the Lindale Mall area to pick up a school camera at Photo Pro, always a bit exciting, but it went well.

This morning, as I cycled in, I was thinking about sound. While I was on C Avenue, I thought Ben's bike was silent.

Then, when I was crossing the parking lots at Rockwell Collins, I was far enough away from traffic to hear the bike noises, the stead whir of the rubber on the road, a low tone as my passage through the air make a slight breeze that crosses my ears and makes a soft noise like blowing across an old glass pop bottle.

One of the advantages of biking is that you can see and hear so much more than any motorized travel. The birds, the cottonwood leaves in summer, even the rubber and the road.

It was a great day to be a biker!