In Which Sand Beats Sommer

I've just turned onto the "Interurban Trail," one I've never been on before. I'm not even sure I'm on a trail, but it turns out I was.

No, Sommer wasn’t another candidate in the Democratic primary for governor this year. As you may recall, Sommer Livin is my name for my tricycle—and what temporarily defeated (de-wheeled?) her was literal, gritty sand.

I finished May with almost 338 riding miles, which I consider respectable, but slightly disappointing because I rode a few more (almost 378) in March. Checking my ride records, there were a few 20 plus rides in March, including one 42-mile day. I rode more days in May, but just didn’t do rides that were that long.

Deer on Lindale Trail May 17.

Stretch of Cedar Valley Nature Trail north of Boyson Road has new paving, seen on trike ride May 14.

New art under Highway 13 on Grant Wood Trail, image made during trike ride May 13.

May 12--Snake on a trail! On side trail off of Boyson Trail, heading towards Menards area.

May 17--I see my first Monarch of the year on the Lindale Trail.

No matter, I rolled across this warming planet and enjoyed myself. Except when I couldn’t roll—as we’ll get to. It’s June here in Iowa now, and seems a very warm, summery June. My most interesting (and longest recent) ride was this Monday, June 1. I hadn’t planned to ride a particularly challenging route that day, but just wanted to enjoy a fine summer day on the first day of the new month, so I set off from home, heading south on the Cedar River Trail.

My goal was to ride to the Prairie Park Fishery. I did, and circled the lake there, and considered. Did I want to ride the Sac and Fox Trail? In the past, I usually used my mountain bike for that trail, but have permanently retired that bike. Sommer, however, has fairly wide tyres, and the weather has been dry—the Sac and Fox Trail is not paved, and I would not have tried riding it in damp conditions.

The problem wasn’t the S and F itself—the issue is where I would be once I finished the trail. The Prairie Park Fishery is at the south end of the trail. The north end is in a city park off of East Post Road south of Cottage Grove Avenue.

I’ve ridden a bicycle home on Cottage Grove Avenue before—but I don’t consider its full length to be trike rideable. I knew that further west of where I was there is a bike lane, but there’s not one that goes as far as the neighborhood where the Sac and Fox Trail ends.

Well, just last week I had ridden a bicycle to the Bever Park neighborhood on a ride with a grandson—so I knew going along Cottage Grove wasn’t my sole option. The Bever Park area features quiet side streets and a bike lane along its main drag that made triking at least worth considering, so I decided to take a chance.

I made several discoveries along the Sac and Fox ride. The main one, I am pleased to report, is that when it’s dry, Sommer can easily handle the Sac and Fox. I can put that trail back into my riding rotation even if I have to skip the side mountain bike trails that I used to ride. It takes some time to get to this trail—in the past, I often drove to the north end with my mountain bike in my van—and I won’t ride it often, but it’s a good trail on the right days. And Monday was a right day.

Another discovery was a bit amusing. I entered the trail from the south and went north. It’s about 7 miles, and midway through the ride, I passed some orange fencing rolled up on the side. Hmm. Weird. Then, I passed a road where a bridge is being replaced. The unpaved trail gave way to soft ground, and it felt like I was crossing a construction zone.

Workers and equipment were off to both the left and right, and I very much felt out of place. Sommer slowed in the soft ground, but didn’t bog down. I passed the short, odd construction segment and continued north—only to encounter a barrier across the trail. I rode around it to the other side, and it proclaimed “trail closed.” Why was it closed headed south, but open headed north? Was the rolled-up fencing an error?

Sign (above) seen after I came from that direction--above. It's closed headed south but was open riding north. And me with sign on cell phone image I posted during my ride (below).

Anyway, while Sommer is trail ready, I’m not sure the trail is meant to be ready for riding, so it will probably be some months before I again ride the Sac and Fox.

At the park at the trail’s north end, I picked up a trail map and considered my options. My vague plan was to head south on the wide sidewalk beside East Post Road until I got to a quiet street, then turn right and worm my way to the Bever Park area. I don’t really know the route, however, and I’m far more adventurous on a bicycle where my field of vision is much better than I am on my tricycle.

Hmmm. The map showed, as a dotted line, the “Interurban Trail,” which looked to be nearby and looked to reach East Post Road. Was that an option?

I passed a driveway with no mailbox or house visible, and wondered if that was the trail. Fortunately, I didn’t take that route, because a bit more along the road, I found what clearly looked to be a grass trail headed west. There was no sign to identify it, but there was clearly a path along a line of utility poles, so I turned west on the grass and started out.

The “trail” was very primitive and bumpy. After a few yards, I stopped, and attempted to call up Google Maps on my phone to see if it would help confirm where I was. As I was looking at the tiny screen, a biker on a mountain bike came up behind me and passed me, continuing west. Well, that seemed like evidence this grassy walkway might be the elusive Interurban Trail, so on I went.

It was a little weird. I would have been much more comfortable here on a mountain bike, but Sommer was up to the route. That is, until I crossed a street and reached a sandy stretch. I attempted to ride there, but almost immediately my rear drive wheel started tossing sand in the air as the trike stopped all forward movement.

Yikes! I unhooked my feet and prepared to push the trike. However, the ground was level and I could move my side wheels by hand and “walk” with my legs. The level ground was important, because unclipping your feet on a trike might be an invitation to run over your legs, which is a painful experience best avoided. Anyway, between walky feet and pushy hands, I slowly sloshed about 20 yards to the end of the inconvenient, but thankfully small, sandy area.

I've just manually moved trike through the "beach" on the Interurban Trail.

The trail continued. At times, it felt like I was just triking along at the edge of someone’s backyard, but the journey carried on. Then, I reached a narrow, quiet paved street. It looked like a driveway, but had a street sign. I had trouble figuring out where it was, so I asked a gentleman who was walking his dog where I was. He pointed to a corner shortly ahead, and said I could turn there and go left to reach Bever Avenue or turn right to reach Cottage Grove Avenue.

Well, bad news. On the map, the Interurban Trail continues to Bever Park, and my plan was to take the trail all the way there—but across the street from me there was a fence and gate blocking the trail. I learned later from one of my daughters that the trail in fact does continue—one can walk around the blocking gate—but I couldn’t see a way to ride a trike there.

Honestly, I didn’t want to tackle Cottage Grove Avenue—I was in the valley of a tributary of the Cedar River, and Cottage Grove climbs steeply out of that valley. I know from my time as a CR biker that the Cottage Grove hill is a monster.

My final few yards on the Interurban Trail--what appears to be a nicely paved driveway is actually a quiet, narrow street.

The side street that the nice man had directed me to had bike lanes, fortunately, so I turned left to head towards Bever Avenue. And looked ahead. The road I was on climbed out of the same valley that Cottage Grove Avenue does. And if I reached Bever Avenue, I would be some ways from an easy-to-trike route home.

But I have biked up Cottage Grove Avenue before. While it features a high hill, it also, this far west, features a bike lane. And if I reached the top of the mountain, I was pretty confident in several OK options to reach home. I could continue heading south and climb the unknown hill to Bever Avenue, or turn north towards the big, but known, Cottage Grove rise.

It was warm, I was tired. But I decided to go for it—I executed a U turn and headed back towards Cottage Grove. I got to s stop sign, turned left and headed up that mountain, riding in the bike lane.

It was a tough slog up that incline—but memory is a funny thing. While Cottage Grove features a very challenging hill, it was more challenging in my memory than in reality. Don’t get me wrong, it took a lot of effort to ascend, it just wasn’t as daunting as I thought it would be. Halfway up, I tried to comfort myself. Count 100 strokes, I told myself. Before you reach 100, you will be on top of the hill.

It wasn’t exactly a lie but also not exactly true—it took pretty much all of those 100 strokes to climb out of that valley—but it didn’t take more, so I guess it was OK. On a bike, my route home would be to turn right at Washington High School—but that’s a “bike” street, not a trike route. I decided to continue west on Cottage Grove Avenue, not a familiar route, and I was pleasantly surprised. What had been a bike lane turned into a dedicated bike trail between the street and sidewalk. I had to switch to the actual sidewalk when I crossed First Avenue, but soon found myself on familiar, quiet streets in the Mount Mercy area, and I was able to easily make my way back to the CeMar Trail for the familiar trip home.

So, I don’t know how June will end. Will I exceed March’s miles now that summer is here? I don’t know, and I hope I don’t worry about it too much. The journey, not the mileage total, is the point. Still, I rolled 29.55 miles on that warm summer day—including climbing what is one of the most daunting hills available in my town.

Not bad.

Trike at intersection of Creek Trail and Boyson Road late in the day May 17. I just liked the angle.

Young deer by Lindale Trail--not caring a human is riding by.

Memorial Day, May 25. I ride over to Oakshade Cemetery to say hi to my parents. They don't have a headstone yet, but one has been ordered.

In Which I Bid a Beast Adieu

 

April 12--The Fancy Beast on the driveway. Years ago, I named an old Schwinn mountain bike The Beast, and when a son-in-law passed this bike on to me, it became The Fancy Beast. It's being wheeled out of the garage to cross the rainbow bridge or visit the farm or whatever euphemism you prefer.

Well, life was the theme of my last post back in March. Looking back at the end of something, fortunately not life, is more the theme of this post. I was naming my newish tricycle back in March—I’m bidding a final farewell to an old bicycle this time.

Early in March, I decided to visit a nearby gym I go to several times a week. It’s not far away, and I usually cycle there. Because I have to cross some parking lots, I don’t like to ride Sommer, my trike, because I don’t ride the trike where I have to dodge cars.

So I rode a bicycle—in this case, my mountain bike, The Fancy Beast. I rode and parked and exercised, but when I came out of the gym to head home, I encountered bad news. The metal piece that attaches the rear derailleur had failed, leaving the chain loose and detached. Fortunately, the gym isn’t too far from home to walk the distance, although I’ll admit strolling while pushing a disabled bicycle is not my favorite way to hike.

The broken derailleur, above and below, on The Fancy Beast.

Anyway, it was a couple of weeks before I took the bike to a bike shop for an evaluation. Could it be repaired? Well, yes, but the derailleur wasn’t the only problem. The bicycle was long overdue for a tune up and needed a new rear tyre. What with one thing and another, the repair bill would be around $400.

That just seemed to be too much. I can afford it, but don’t want to spend that much on an old bicycle I only ride infrequently. I have Argent, my road bike, and Clarence, my hybrid bike, that I ride more—and most of my rides these days are on Sommer, the recumbent trike.

I briefly considered buying a new mountain bike, but that would cost more than twice as much as the repair job, so I had a difficult decision to make.

On the one hand, there are some trails and rides that I can’t do without a mountain bike. There are mountain bike trails off of the Boyson Trail, one of the routes I ride often. I also like the Sac and Fox Trail in Cedar Rapids—an unpaved trail that is most comfortable to ride with a mountain bike. Once a year, I ride up Mount Trashmore and then fly down on a trail that is exclusively for mountain bikes.

On the other hand, 95 percent of my riding is on other routes. Paved bike trails and bike lanes have been expanding in my area in recent years, and it was just last year that I got the trike, which, as I noted, is my main ride these days. What would it mean if I simply didn’t have a mountain bike?

I thought about it, often ruminating on the question as the slow miles rolled by on Sommer Livin. The weather has turned warm this spring, and the paved trails around here go on and on for miles.

These days, I ride a recumbent trike most often. Sommer Livin, my trike, on a ride north to Lafayette April 7.

I also consulted my wife. She’s the finance person in our partnership, handles the household budget, and I would never spend hundreds of dollars without her agreement. Anyway, we both had come to the same conclusion. This is the end of the road for that trusty mountain bike.

One reason I opted not to repair The Fancy Beast is it’s simply an old bicycle. My son first acquired it during a summer internship about 2005 or so. It was passed on to a son-in-law before I ended up inheriting it some years ago. Granted, with care a bicycle will last longer than a automobile, but still, two decades is two decades. The Fancy Beast has served me well but is past its service date.

And, I have the many other ways to roll across the planet. In the right dry weather, the modestly wide tyres on Sommer Livin should be OK for the Sac and Fox Trail. To be honest, I won’t miss the cardiac test that flying down Mount Trashmore represents—and I can still cycle to it’s summit with the hybrid bike, I just have to use the tamer road trail to head back down instead of the mountain bike trail.

Time marches on and waits for no one and no thing. I have fond feelings for The Fancy Beast, and when I made the final decision to wheel it to the bike graveyard, well, it was a bit sad.

April 12--Awaiting the next trip to the county landfill, The Fancy Beast is in the bike graveyard under the sun room.

Yet the next day I have my new trike to cycle on, and that’s OK. Farewell, Fancy Beast. I’m afraid your time has passed. Still, I will continue to roll.

The weather has turned almost summer warm. I’ve been wearing shorts and bike sandals a lot on recent rides. I rolled 377.78 miles in March. As of April 15, when I first drafted this post, I have rolled 126.79 miles in a rainy April where weather has constrained riding some. The year to date in mid April was 880.72 miles—by the time I post this I probably will have exceeded 1,000 miles.

Some images from March and April rides:

March 31--Magnolia in bloom at MMU campus, seen on March 31 trike ride.

March 9--First ride north as far as Center Point--warm day.

On the trail to Lafayette March 9.

March 10--Sure sign of early warm days in spring, snake (above on below) seen on trike ride.

March 12--Eagle seen high in tree near MMU campus.

March 23--Deer bounding across Lindale Trail.

March 27--On Cedar River Trail at site of new biking bridge across Cedar River being constructed this yer.

March 27--Eagle soars over Cedar River.

March 31--Daffodils at Mount Mercy University Campus.

In Which Spring Comes and Goes

My trike parked at Troy Park in Robins. We were hosting a grandson that day and I rode to two parks for activities and a restaurant for lunch--adding up to 27 miles, one of my longer rides of February.

All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends, I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I've loved them all
“In My Life”—Beatles, Lennon and McCartney

Something about the second month of the year put me in a nostalgic mood. It was an unusual February in that, while that month is traditionally overlapping the coldest part of winter, this year it featured days of sharp contrast—some stretches that were too cold for an old man to bike or trike, some days where it was OK to bike with warm boots but triking was not practical and, finally, more than its share of warmer days that foreshadowed spring. It wasn’t just on the penultimate day of the month—one of the warmest—spring-like sunshine and warmth was sprinkled throughout the month.

Did the groundhog see his shadow? Some days, it seemed so. Some days it seemed not. Spring kept arriving early, then ducking out the back door for a sudden smoke break or something.

How else do I sum up February 2026? In January, I posted that I was seeking a name for my newest cycling vehicle, a recumbent tricycle. I’ll get to that topic again, soon, with an announcement.

February was, from a cycling point of view, a better month than January was. I rolled 267.35 miles, 72.45 miles on various bicycles and 194.9 on the trike. On Feb. 27, I rode 27.04 miles on the trike, which felt appropriate for a sunny, warm day. At the time, I thought it was my longest ride of the month but I was mistaken—I rode the trike for three rides that exceeded 25 miles in February, 25.14 miles Feb. 15 and 30.67 miles on Feb. 11.

Some images from two longer trike rides Feb. 11 and Feb. 15. This is Feb. 11, view of new fishing pier, I assume, on newly opened section of trail at Cedar Lake.

Feb. 11--Rest stop at Cedar Rapids Public Library, the main one downtown. Elementary art exhibit going on.

Lunch stop at Ellis Park on Feb. 11. I rode through the city on a trike with no name. For now.

Crossing Cedar River on Third Avenue bridge on my way north--watching young eagle.

New trail on east side of Cedar Lake. The sign says "closed," the many people using the trail said "it's actually open, don't believe every sign  you see." I rode on it Feb. 15.

I thought that I would set 30 miles as the next goal for March trike rides, forgetting that I had already exceeded 30 miles. Maybe 40 is the goal as I slowly ratchet up the distances.

On what? My wife is irritated by my habit of naming bicycles. I think of it as an homage to my mother, who had a habit of naming our family cars (although I don’t think all earned that honor—I don’t recalls that a trashy Ford station wagon we had for a few months ever earned a moniker, for example). Anyway, my oldest bike is The Fancy Beast, a mountain bike named because at the time I acquired it I had a less fancy old Schwinn mountain bike that I had called The Beast. My hybrid bike, which has a Tag-A-Long attachment and a bar to place a toddler seat on, is named Clarence—a direct call back to Clarissa, the 1959 VW chartreuse micro-bus that was the family car for the majority of the 1960s. My hybrid is the family bus, get it? The sleek road bike that I use for summer distance biking is Argent, because it’s a vaguely silver color.

I’ve never bothered to name the old red Schwinn tandem, but I don’t consider that to be one of “my” bikes, it’s more of a family fun bicycle.

Open coat on warm ride Feb. 16.

Trike in late afternoon light Feb. 16.

Warm February days make limestone trails unusable, mostly, at least to me. Not, apparently, to everyone. Part of Boyson Trail I didn't ride on Feb. 16.

Feb. 16--Warm enough today to wear biking sandals on trike ride.

Watching Connect CR bridge construction from detour, Feb. 5.

New bridge under construction over Cedar River, as part of expanding trail network in Cedar Rapids. Seen Feb. 5.

Start of detour around bridge construction Feb. 5.

Sunshine on The Fancy Beast, Feb. 4 ride.

Bike on trail on cool, grey day. Clarence on Feb. 25.

But the teal trike is definitely mine—and it’s my main cycling chariot these days. I asked on Facebook for some suggestions, and received several creative ideas. I’m sure none of the were serious—after all, this is not a serious issue to begin with. One friend suggested “Trixie.” Another “Lucky.” I’ve decided I’m not going to go with any stripper names. A family member suggested “Picasso” because it’s blue and I draw with it, which I thought was clever. Another person suggested “Day Tripper,” which was among the stronger ideas—a description of the trike’s use plus a nod to the Beatles.

Well, I like the Beatles reference. Which brings me to the name I have selected, both in honor of The Beatles and because a name connected to Buffy Anne Summers just feels whimsical and appropriate. The trike is a vehicle of my fourth quarter of life, and the switch to trike riding feels both fun and a fundamental reminder that life means coping with living in change.

So, the Beatles song the trike puts me in mind of is “In My Life.” The lyrics note that, among friends, “some are dead and some are living.” I’ll go with the living end of that spectrum, for now. And the trike is also a fair-weather vehicle, a summer cycle.

Meet “Sommer Livin.” Spelled badly, I know (again, this is me and I am a terrible speller). I’ll probably just refer to her (I don’t know why Clarence is a he and Sommer is a she, except Buffy, right?) as Sommer.

Sommer Livin, aka Sommer, parked at Ellis Park several weeks before being named.

In Which a Memorial Ride Caps January

Sign another biker had on her bicycle for Jan. 31 ride.

Well, January 2026 is over. Last year, due to my heart surgery on Jan. 10, I rode no miles at all in the first month of the year. This year, weather was definitely an issue, as I managed only eight rides for the entire month.

Well, that’s about two rides a week. In the dead of a cold winter, perhaps that’s not bad. And I did roll for more than 100 miles in January.

Most of my rides were typical of my style of riding. I usually roll alone. I do not mind company, but I don’t always plan rides well in advance. And, while I enjoy a ride with others, I am also a bit of an introvert and don’t abhor some alone time.

The most memorable ride was the final one on Jan. 31. A local bike shop, Goldfinch Cyclery, joined with a national movement by planning a “We in Unity (For All for Alex)” ride to remember Alex Pretti and other victims of ICE violence.

Bikes parked at Ellis Park Harbor, west end of the ride, Jan. 31.

I did not know the route in detail, but from notes on Facebook I knew that it would be a short ride. I was toying with the idea of riding my trike—it’s my main cycling vehicle these days. But it is a very cold January, and I did not know how it would feel to wear my uninsulated biking shoes for this ride.

So, I did a test ride on Jan. 29. I put on three pairs of socks—a thin inner pair, regular exercise socks and a top layer of fluffy winter socks. I had on long underwear, an insulated shirt, long-sleeved T and sweatshirt under my biking jacket. In other words, pretty much the full winter regalia.

The temperature was in the teens Thursday, and there was a bit of a breeze. I headed up C Avenue to the Lindale Trail. There, I got a nasty surprise—the city has been doing good work clearing local trails, but hadn’t cleared the latest light snowfall, so the trail featured a thin, bumpy packed layer of snow.

Jan. 29 ride on Lindale Trail to practice for Jan. 31 memorial ride. Headed east on trail--you can see exactly where Cedar Rapids (no snow from latest fall removed) ends and Marion (snow cleared) begins. I hope Cedar Rapids will do better in the future.

I rode for about an hour, and was suffering a bit by the end. The verdict: Even with three pairs of socks, the bike shoes are not adequate a cold winter ride. Even my legs were cold by the end of the practice ride, which surprised me because in the past long underwear under my pants had been enough to keep my legs comfortable. Well, every day I grow older, and I know that my sensitivity to cold is more of an issue as I age than it was in the past.

That was Thursday the 29th. What to do for Saturday the 31st? On the one hand, a bicycle would allow me to wear warm winter boots. On the other hand, if I were to encounter a snow-covered section on the ride route, I would prefer three wheels to two. In the end, I decided that the downtown bike routes would be more likely to be clear than my neighborhood trail, and for the sake of comfort, I would wear the warm boots.

I made other adjustments, too. I again wore insulated long underwear but also a thin pair of pajama pants under my regular trousers. I added a regular T shirt under the three other torso covers, and chose a zip fleecy rather than a sweatshirt for the top under-coat layer. I felt a little bit like I was the younger brother in “A Christmas Story,” yet I was warmer.

Normally, if I were to ride downtown, I would cycle there, but this day, unsure of my cold endurance, I loaded the bicycle into my van and drove to the start of the ride. I got there a bit early, and by the advertised arrival time of 1 p.m., only seven of us waited in the cold. But it was half an hour before the ride was set to start, and in that time a steady stream of bikers arrived. I counted at least 70 people in a quick look at the crowd before the ride, and I think there were a few more than that.

Before the ride, Logan from the bike shop said a few words. He spoke well. Biking means freedom, and recent tragedies have been an attack on freedom (my words, not his). I won’t get more into my feelings on this biking blog, but I did write a post on this to topic on another of my blogs.

Speaker from bike shop talks before ride Jan. 31.

After the short speech, we started out from Plaza Park where the big red Cedar Rapids sign is, headed down to First Street and headed west, aiming after several blocks on a bike lane to a bike tail which would take us to Ellis Boulevard, and then to Ellis Park.

The wind was cold and my face was in slight discomfort. But it was not quite as cold as the day of my practice ride—and I had more layers on. That strategy seemed to work. When I arrived at Ellis Park Harbor, near the end of the line of bikers (no surprise, I am a slow rider), I was doing fine.

Well, I do not know if the right word was “fine,” given the reason for the ride. I mean I was doing physically well. We milled about for a few minutes, in quiet conversation or alone with our thoughts, and then headed back to the starting point.

Custom flag on another bike seen before Jan. 31 ride.

I think the choice to ride the bike was a good one. There were a few spots with snow and ice, and I was on my road bike, but I just rolled across them. Overall, the pavement was clear, much clearer here than on the Lindale Trail. I was glad to be on the bike for several reasons. The main one was the warm boots. Also, the ride was at times on a narrow walkway or bike lane, and the bike was better for those places just because it takes less space than my trike. And while I was near the end of the ride both coming and going, I am sure I did a better job keeping up with the pack riding my fastest bicycle than I would have on the tricycle.

As noted, I do enjoy a ride by myself. But a memorial ride like this is meant for a group. It helps to know that there are others who mourn the unexpected loss of a biker and a nurse and others—that decent people will gather publicly on this winter day in remembrance.

In January, I rode 108.8 miles, 14.66 on bicycles and 94.14 miles on my trike. The final six are the ones that will stick with me the most. Thanks, Goldfinch Cyclery, for this event.

Image from Jan. 9 trike ride. A new bike-pedestrian bridge across the Cedar River is taking shape, built on the foundations of an old railroad bridge.