In Which Grandchildren Join the Rides

Nov. 28--After a warm Thanksgiving, it has turned colder, frosty grass seen at Collins Aerospace on Monday morning bike ride to work.

Nov. 28--Monday afternoon, ready for bike ride home with lights on.

We had a lot of family at our house for Thanksgiving—more than a dozen people packed into our modest home, enjoying two turkeys.

That day, I didn’t ride at all. But the day before and the days after turkey day featured rides, usually with grandchildren.

A young grandson who has just moved to Minnesota thinks it’s his grandfather’s duty to take him on at least one ride daily, and, honestly, grandad is not upset at that expectation.

Nov. 23--On Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I rode to work in the morning to catch up on some grading. Took a bit of a detour on the way home and headed down the Lindale Trail. After crossing the two bridges there, noticed this toupee-wearing shark beside the trail.

Nov. 23--Another nearby shark.

Nov. 23--My making images of sharks does not go unnoticed. Neighborhood watch at work on Walnut tree.

So the tag-along seat and Clarence, my hybrid bike, got several rides in. The longest was 9 miles.

On that 9-mile ride, the bike-happy grandson actually rode with my youngest son, as his son (the youngest son’s son, the grandson isn’t of reproductive age yet, absent cloning), rode in a bike trailer towed by me on my mountain bike, The Fancy Beast.

Of all the rides I did around Thanksgiving, that 9-mile one was the most challenging. The Fancy Beast is not my fastest bike anyway, and the almost-2 grandchild in back is rather large for his age, a bright, tall, solid, happy boy who could be heard chortling with glee anytime I was headed downhill.

The other grandson—the one who was my bike buddy most days—kept up a constant chatter, commenting on the sights, asking questions, telling tales. He always does that, any ride with him is guaranteed to be a communication workshop.

Nov. 26--Rode bike to Huntington Ridge Park on C Avenue with another grandson to meet family for some find weather post-Thanksgiving outdoor play. Milkweed seeds seen there.

Nov. 28--Rode down the trail to first roundabout in Marion on my way home. City Christmas lights seen there.

For another ride during the Thanksgiving season, I got the ancient tandem out of the garage and rode it with a tall granddaughter. She’s 11, but looks more like 13 because she’s a sapling, a thin, tall girl—one of two older sisters of Mr. Chatterbox biker.

I’ve ridden the tandem with that granddaughter before—and she’s a pretty good natural tandem rider. On a tandem bike, the two riders have to function as a team and must communicate about things like when to pedal and when to coast, when stops are coming up and when to launch the heavy two-person cycle into motion again.

That tandem ride went well.

As November comes to a close, winter is again taking hold. Today it was quite cold—the morning commute was at 18 degrees Fahrenheit, but with a stiff wind that yielded a wind chill of zero. Definitely a day for the long underwear and a scarf.

At least around Thanksgiving, we had been blessed with some warmer days, which made the rides with grandchildren a real pleasure.

Nov. 23--Warmest day of the week, sun low at 3:24.

Nov. 23--Morning views (above and below) of C Avenue pond at Collins Aerospace.

I finished November with 199.34 miles for the month—not bad for this time of year, but a little down from October. For the year, I have 2647.41 miles—about 350 to go to reach my goal for the year.

The weather in the final two weeks of the month, especially in the days after my semester ends, will got a long way to determining if I make it.

We’ll see, but I aim to enjoy the attempt!

In Which I Meet a Mystery Snake and See a Fall

Gate in Lafayette made of bike wheels.

The plan: Rise and shine, get an early start, do a long RAGBRAI training ride, perhaps over 50 miles.

The reality: Awaken at 5 a.m., decide (correctly) that that is ridiculously early, read a Donald Westlake novel for an hour or so, fall back asleep. Arise around 9 a.m. Eat breakfast, get dressed—these days, I take close to two hours to get going. End up conversing via WhatsAp with a remote daughter, and by then it’s pushing lunch time. Eat lunch.

And hit the road about 1 p.m. Not exactly an early start, and not likely as a candidate for a 50-mile day. Still, I did about 37 miles and was home by 5, and close to 40 miles in four hours is a pretty good pace for a slow, old biker.

Wheel gate

I started out by doing the Brentwood Hill, and then headed over to the Cedar River Trail. I was trying a new bike tracking ap, which either didn’t work all that well or that I have not figured out yet. Luckily, my touchy, unreliable computer on my road bike decided to record the whole ride, which is how I know the mileage total. I rode, fairly quickly for me, north to Center Point and then to the edge of town where pavement ends. I thought of continuing to inspect the new bridge, but I didn’t really want to ride on limestone with the road bike, so I turned around.

Shortly after leaving Center Point, I encountered a rather large snake on the trial. I stopped to shoot its image, and it coiled up and reared at me. I kept more than a body’s length distance between me and it, so as long as it could not leap into the air, I was OK. In fact, I probably was OK anyway, most snakes in Iowa are harmless. I think, based on looking at google, that it’s a Western Fox Snake.

Snake and my bike, above. Other view of snake, below.

Well, I thought that was pretty cool. I like seeing snakes, and think I got some good images of this one.

However, when I got close to Robins, I was moving pretty fast, maybe 17 mph, when I was passed by a couple, and a man and woman. We were close to the main street that goes through that town, and they were stopped in front of me by traffic, so I almost caught up by the time we go to the corner. They crossed the street, and the woman wobbled and then turned sharply left—I’m not sure if she meant to, but the man ran into her and they both tumbled to the ground.

Cars (and I) stopped, and asked if they were OK. I was a bit worried by the way the woman was holding her arm, and I hope she didn’t break anything—but they insisted they were OK, so I pedaled on.

It was a decent RAGBRAI training ride, even if not as far as planned. But I fell last week in San Francisco, and now this couple fell in Robins. Rule of threes? Can we be done for the summer please? Although I would not mind another snake sighting.

In Which The Local Trail Makes a Slow Comeback

Aug. 16--new interface at Thomas Park parking lot (above). Sidewalk under construction leading to side trail near Menards (below).

Over the past two weeks, I've been on the Boyson Trail area several times.

Since June flooding, the city of Marion has been working on the trail. They aren't just putting it back the way it was—there are some improvements. The parking lot near Thomas Park wont’ “cross” the trail anymore. A new sidewalk will lead from the end of a side trail to the city streets in the Menards area.

Well, it may be some weeks before it’s all done, and the way work has been going, some time before I can enjoy the results. But I hope we catch a break for a while from the floods—the trail is going to be nice.

OK, it has nothing to do with trail, but I was pleased to see full bike rack Friday at MMU.

A Cool, Cloudy Ride Turns Sunny

view of bridge on the trail.

Me and Mr. T on the the "brand new bridge."  He's too shy to look at the woman taking the photo.  Or perhaps just too focused on the creek.

Bare trees and clouds reflect in Indian Creek from what Tristan calls "the brand new bridge."

Late in the ride, headed north, towards the old railroad bridge.  Nice day in late fall.

There have been plenty of cool morning rides lately—an entire week of lows in the 20s.

That has made it a really good biking week.

When I got home Friday, the grandchildren had already arrived.  We were keeping Nikayla, Tristan and Amelia, ages 4, 2 and 1, overnight.  Tristan assured me that I was his friend, something he often tells me, and he bestows the title of “friend” very parsimoniously.  His grandmother, who he adores, is not his friend.  Neither are the most important people in his life, his parents.

Why do I earn the coveted, rare title of Friend of Tristan?  Well, when he tells me I’m his friend, he usually also explains:  “You take me on bike rides.”

Anyway, on Saturday mornings, Nikayla has a dance class, and Amelia, who often tries to emulate her older sister, loves to go watch.  So this morning, Audrey took the girls to dance, while I took the boy for a boy bonding journey, a friendship fiesta—a bike ride.

We started out about 9:30  It was cool and cloudy, fairly quiet on the trail.  After a week of frosts, the bugs are gone, though not the birds.  We had not gone far when we started to hear and see some birds, including a big red-headed woodpecker who landed on a dormant tree just beside the trail.  It was closer than I’m used to seeing this bird, and I stopped to try to take its photo, but it sped off.

No matter, on we went.  Tristan had asked that we go check on Thomas—he remembered a recent Wednesday ride when we headed down the Cedar River Trail to the railroad tracks near Cedar Lake.  I knew today I didn’t have time to ride down to Quaker Oats and back, so I suggested the Boyson Trail by pointing out that we could cross many bridges, and he agreed.

He was a bit subdued.  He had slept in and was in a contemplative mood.  He didn’t narrate the ride, as he usually does, but happily replied to my questions, and quietly commented now and then, such as noting that a “plane is in the sky” when we heard the sound of an small single-engine prop-powered aircraft.

We proceeded down the trail, crossing and recrossing the bridge that leads to the Marion High School football field.  I rode on the new trail down to Menards, and when we turned to go back, Tristan wanted to cross the “brand new bridge” again—it’s the longest bridge on the trail and Tristan calls it that because it was brand new the first time we crossed it.

We stopped at the bridge to watch the water and so I could take his picture.  A jogger came up, and asked us if we wanted her to take our picture.  I said “yes,” but then Tristan was too shy to look at the camera woman.

We headed down to the park end of the Boyson Trail and then north again.  When we got to the north end, Tristan said he was ready to go to grandma’s house, so we didn’t go back to the trail that goes behind Walgreens, but instead went directly home.

As we had ridden along, the sky slowly cleared, the wind died down and I was rather warm by the time we finished.  I think Mr. T was too—I had put leggings under his pants and two pairs of socks on him, and Audrey had found him a thin hat to wear under his helmet.

All in all, it was a very nice ride.  I took some pictures along the way.  The photo that I found most interesting was one of Tristan during our bridge stop.  He looks sad, and a tear is rolling down his cheek.  It’s a heartbreaking picture—boy of sadness—and totally misleading.  His mood was upbeat all ride long, even if a bit subdued—he was happy and pleased to be out on his bike seat.  I think he looks “sad” only because that’s his thoughtful face while he gazes at the stream.  He was happy to be there and I was glad to have him.  His older sister has outgrown the bike seat, and he is starting to get a bit tall for it, too—I’m afraid this will be his final fall riding this seat with his friend.  We do have a trailer that larger kids can sit in that we attach to Audrey’s bike, so I’ll still be able to take him biking some.

But, sometime in the months that follow, after he has turned 3, he’ll just be too big to ride on this seat anymore.

I know today his tear was not of sadness at all.  It’s just a reaction to the cool breeze of the ride and some dust in the air.

Yet it seemed to symbolize, to me, the coming end of our biking partnership, at least in his present form.  Granted, that’s not for a while—but that day will come.

For Christmas this year, I’ll be looking so see if I can find some other form of device to attach to my bike so I can continue in the new year to cycle with my friend—and hopefully with his older sister, too.  And the small seat in front will be for younger grandchildren, new biking friends of the future.

Why the tear?  He is not sad.  In fact, I think he loved the ride.

Friday, sunrise over Kenwood School.  The week has been full of this kind of morning--a good reason to be a biker.