In Which 25 Miles Ends in an Urbana Flat

Saw several of these signs on Cedar Valley Nature Trail. 

At about 5 p.m. Sunday, I texted my wife. I don’t recall the exact wording, and I’m too lazy to go find my phone, but the message was about whether I should turn around or push on to Urbana.

I had left home about 3, ridden up the Brentwood Drive hill twice, and then headed north on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail.

“Push on to Urbana,” my wife texted back, or something like that. So, I did.

They are doing some project along the Cedar Valley Nature Trail, there was lots of places on the trail that have loose rock, and new electric poles have been put in north of Center Point. It was warm and nice, but very quiet past Center Point—unlike the Hiawatha end of the trail where there were many bikers. Now, I was in the countryside alone.

Trail north of Center Point--a little barren looking where vegetation was cleared as new electric poles were put in. Beautiful day for a bike ride.

I had originally planned to go to Center Point, and with the Brentwood Hill climbs tossed in, maybe make it to 30 miles or so. Adding the leg to Urbana would make the ride more than 40, possibly pushing 50, although it would also mean it would be pretty late by the time I got back home.

On the other hand, I’d been fighting wind most of the way to Center Point, and that headwind would become a back wind to speed me home. But, as I went north of Center Point, it got worse. The trail conditions got softer, the wind got stiffer and more in my face, and my speed, which had been around 14 to 15 mph most of the way, dropped to 10 or below. I began to doubt if I would make it to Urbana.

But then I shot through the tunnel under Interstate 380, and realized I didn’t have far to go. I haven’t been to Urbana a lot, but I remembered there wasn’t a ton of miles between I-380 and that Benton County village.

But, as I pushed on, the trail seemed to become even mushier. And a voice in the back of my mind began to question if it was all the trail. Sometimes, when a bike ride gets harder and “mushier,” it simply means there’s a problem with your rear tyre.

I could see the Urbana water tower, however, so I pushed on. And when I stopped at the park, I felt the rear tyre.

End of the ride for Argent. Bike rack in park in Urbana. You may not be able to see it, but trust me--the rear tyre is flat.

Mush. I thought about trying to ride back south before it got flatter, but as soft as it was, that didn’t seem like a good option. At least I was in a town, so I phoned my wife, and she and my daughter and grandson were out shopping and agreed to swing by to pick me up. (No, they were not shopping in Urbana—they had never been to Urbana before—but since they were already out, it wasn’t too hard to hop on I-380 and drive a few miles north to pick me up. Urbana is a challenging bike ride, but not so much in the way of a drive.)

Did you know a robin can yell
with a worm in its beak? Trust me.

I had about half an hour alone in the park, other than two Urbana urchins who were riding a scooter and bike. I photographed my bike, and wasted a few minutes photographing the flag in the park. I wasn’t very serious about it—I liked the light, but trying to catch a waving flag in a good pose on a windy day is tougher than it sounds. Check the end of this post and see what you think, but honestly I only shot a dozen or so images. If I was serious and had a good camera, I would have shot 100 and gotten a good one.

I checked my tyre now and then, and confirmed the wisdom of the phone call—the tyre quickly went all the way flat. If I had tried to ride south, I merely would have stranded myself somewhere more obscure than Urbana.

Well, the rescue squad came. They even wanted to go to Culver’s for supper, which was not a bad deal. I’ll get new tyres (both are worn) and a new tube tomorrow, and then I will get my lone bicycle back in riding shape.

Glad I charged up my cell phone before the ride!

And next time I want to aim for 50 miles on my bicycle, I think I’ll turn around at Schultz Road and head south. Argent is clearly meant for pavement.

Old Glory in Urbana. Windy day for a ride, and I never got the benefit of the wind aiding me.

In Which Flowers Help Ease the Pain of Emptyness

Bike. Anonymous other biker passes by my bike, which has a rare flat tyre.

A flat tyre! On only the third ride!

The unnamed new bike cannot be ridden at the moment. On Father’s Day, my youngest son, wife and I went out at about 10:30 for a bicycle ride. A muggy, but nice and sunny, ride.

I could do whatever I wanted to do that day. What I wanted to do was ride my new bicycle.

We again used the Cedar River Trail, and again went south, because I stubbornly wanted to find the detour. If you read the previous post, you know that I wondered were the trail detour went after it took you east to Council Street, where it appears it wanted you to go back west.

The apparent answer was oddly comical. The detour leads back to Center Point Road. So it goes all the way a half mile east to Council and then doubles back so that it can have you cross 42nd Street at a corner with a “walk” light, which is commendable, I suppose. Except that there is also a walk light at Center Point Road. Why not just cross there—why the pointless ride east to Council Street to get a walk sign that was available way back there? Bikers wonder.

Anyway, I don’t know how far the detour goes along Center Point Road, because when we got to the New Pioneer Coop, we knew we could cross the street and head up a little side street to the trail. So we did. And right as we started to ride on that little side street, that’s when I noticed my back tyre was flat.

And the tyre was not a little flat. Not a “pump it up every few miles and keep going” flat, although we didn't have a frame pump with us anyway. I’m talking an empty void, totally hollow, flabby and useless, like a Donald Trump campaign speech.

So the son and the spouse headed back north to go get our van and rescue me, while I locked the crippled What Are We Going To Call It to a bench.

To pass the time, I photographed flowers. It doesn't seem like a particularly flowery time of year, but in a short stroll near the bench were the crippled bike was locked, I found quite a variety to photograph.

Milkweed in bloom, and vertical, too.
Why Blogger, why?

I was on a mission, of sorts. I wanted to find Milkweed, which is in bloom now, and I also wanted to take a cute photo of a baby Monarch Butterfly.

There is Milkweed along the Cedar River trail, but none near the bench were my bike rested. (MMU bike club, what should be done about that?) However, I spied a patch growing adjacent to a nearby parking lot, so part of my mission was fulfilled. Sadly, there were no caterpillar sightings, nor did I see a chrysalis, although I don’t know for sure if I would recognize one. (Then again, given the size of Monarch Caterpillars, the chrysalis should be pretty big).

Oh well. Better luck next time. And I don’t aspire to collect flat tyres (in case you’re wondering, I just like and use the British spelling on this blog because they invented the bike tyre and ought to be allowed to name it), but I guess practice changing tyres on my RAGBRAI bike may prove of value.

We were planning to go kayaking later anyway, and we did. And here are the other flowers or berries:

In Which Misfortune Leads to Better Things

Today there was so much biking news that it barely could fit in one post. So let’s take things in three chapters:

Chapter 1: In Which I Ride and Admire Decorations

I am going to be soon helping my wife watch four young grandchildren for a few days, and my biking pal and sister is traveling soon to Kansas City to grade exams (lucky her, but it is an extra gig that earns her extra money) for a few days, so it felt like today, before these events, was the day for a big bike ride.

I met my sister at 7:40 a.m. (10 minutes late, my fault) at Riley’s for a filling breakfast. Then I met her again at her house, and we were on our way. Neither of us had been to Ely lately, so we decided to head down the Cedar River Trail in that direction. The goal was to ride RAGBRAI-like miles, to aim for 60 or so, without really worrying about RAGBRAI-like hill climbs.

When we got to Ely, the coffee shop that is our usual smoothie stop was closed, but Casey’s next door had doughnuts and chocolate milk, so all was well. Before we headed north, I photographed a yard she had noticed on the way to the stores—I called it the “National Lawn Ornament Monument,” but she informed me it was the “National Lawn Ornament Museum and Library.” The librarian, to judge by the sounds, is a yippy little dog.

Ely, Iowa, home of angels and gnomes and frogs, oh my!

Anyway, as we headed north again, I photographed some other beside-the-trail decorations, and thought the theme for this blog post would be said decorations. Foreshadowing—There Is Much Bigger Biking News To Come.

More decorations in Cedar Rapids near south end before Cedar River Trail turns into the Hoover Trail.

Chapter 2: In Which Fate, It Seems, Decides to Lend a Hand

We were going north. The morning had been very pleasant, and although we had to battle a headwind, it wasn’t really a serious wind. The day was starting to turn warm, but was still nice. When we crossed the Bridge of Lions, I had a question for my sister.

“Are you ready to explore a bit?”

She was.

I had an idea that there should be a route from where we were (north end of the Lions Bridge) to Otis Road, which leads to the Prairie Parks Fishery. I knew that there was a side street next to the Cargill plant, and if I could get to that street from where I was, well, it’s an alternate route that avoids a busy street crossing further north.

We ended up riding on a sidewalk on a busy road, and doing at least several extra blocks due to a dead end, but we discovered you can get to the street that goes by St. Wenceslaus Church, and that said street indeed does tie into the street that runs beside Cargill. But my triumph was short lived.

“Joe,” my sister said, “you back tire is really low.” This was an unpleasant surprise, because in preparation for this epic ride, I had pumped up both tires this morning. My back tire should have been firm and full. It was flabby. Not fully flat, but headed that way.

Well, we both had frame pumps, and hers is new. So we decided to push on to the Prairie Parks Fishery, and there used her pump. For a frame pump, it seemed to work well. The tire went from flabby to slightly firmer, but not “tight.”

“You know,” she mused, “there is a full set of bike tools available at New Pioneer Coop.” We had been thinking of trying a new pizza joint on 42nd Street for lunch, but decided that they sell food at the coop, too.

We pumped up again at Cedar Lake and made it to the Coop. Because stopping every half hour to put air in my tire wouldn’t be fun, we wanted a better fix. But, I was not too worried. I carry a spare tube, and since the coop had a nice bike pump, I figured it would be worth the mess and 20 minutes of work to replace the tube.

Lunch. Prepared store macaroni salad and sandwich in a bag. With "honest" tea. It was all about 1,000 times better than it looks, though. Go to New Pioneer Coop for your biking lunch sometime, Trust me.

Fresh flowers on the table of the eating area in the store.

So we had lunch. It was divine. I recommend the Coop as a great lunch stop—it’s not that the food is unique, as I had a turkey sandwich with macaroni salad—it’s just that the mundane food is so well prepared that you’ll honestly think “that was about the best turkey sandwich and macaroni salad I’ve had in my entire life.” And you’ll mean it.

What happened next—fate, right?—was not so divine. I took off the old tube. We inspected tube and tire, and decided that there was a hole in the tire that matched a hole in the tube, but whatever made the hole wasn’t stuck in the tire any more. So I partially inflated the new tube and had the 15-minute wrestling match of putting the tire back on the rim. And we attempted to inflate the tire. Every time, the first few pumps would make it feel a bit more firm, and then it would go limp. Really limp. With our hands and ears, we could detect air leaking out where it should stay in—the tube, apparently, had a defective valve.

We appreciated nice set of bike tools (see other end of rack) but could not figure out New Pi bike rack. My sister documents the insanity. It seems a bit odd to hang your bike, so I cheated. The nice New Pi tools couldn't hide the fact that my spare tube had a bad valve.

Darn. After 44 miles, my 60-mile ride was done. I called my wife for rescue.

She was a bit grumpy with me, which was my fault because I had left a mess when I rushed out this morning. I was looking for some of the stuff I wanted to take with me on the bike journey, and had not repacked a kitchen cupboard I rummaged in. Husbands out there, take note—that’s a serious strategic error, especially if you require a rescue.

But, after reminding me of my transgressions, she agreed that she would come to my aid.

I said adieu to my sister and proceeded to try to install Instagram on my new smart phone to pass the time while I waited. In fact, I was so engrossed I did not see her drive by, and she came up and grabbed my bike before I realized she was there. And so the story seems over, but yet it doesn’t end. Because, big as Chapter Two was, it doesn’t compare to the drama of Chapter Three …

Chapter Three: In Which I Get What I Don’t Deserve

As we headed for home, we drove by the bike shop, and without consulting me, my wife pulled the van into the parking lot. "You wanted to stop here, right," she asked. Clearly, yes was the only answer.

I went in and whined a bit about the tube with the bad valve. The bike shop guy didn’t fuss much, and handed me a free replacement tube. That was, in retrospect, a Very Good Move on his part because of what happened next.

My wife called me over to the new bikes. “What do you think about this one?” she asked.

I’ve been thinking about getting a new road bike which would be much lighter and faster than Francis. I can do RAGBRAI on my hybrid, but let’s face it—as the bike shop guy said, “you can buy speed on a bike.”

My biking sister and youngest son have recently acquired new bikes. My sister purchased one at this very shop (Northtowne) that I envied. Her new bike has several features I like, including those hooked-style handlebars (good for when you face a headwind and want to tuck down), but also dual brake controls, so you don’t have to go into the wind crouch just to stop your bike.

And guess what this road bike that my wife spotted had? The handlebars I want. The weight (much lighter than Francis) I’m after. Dual brake controls.

“Do you want to take it for a test spin?” the bike shop guy asked. For some reason, he was seeming even more jolly.

I rode. I liked. I bought.

It’s not the fancies of Fancy Bikes. It has regular pedals and a kickstand, for instance, both of which are way too downscale for true road bikes. It’s also an aluminum frame, not fancy carbon fiber. But despite being forged of metal, it’s way, way lighter than Francis.

It has regular pedals. And I asked Northtowne to add a kickstand, which they did for free.

And so the ups and downs of the biking day turned again from a big down to a bigger up.

I need a name for this new silver fellow:

My new bike.

I rode the new bike home, but first went a bit north on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail. Not far—just after the 3 mile mark, I stopped to take the new bike’s photo. It looks nice, don’t you think? A bunny—no, I don’t know why bunnies are suddenly abundant on this bike blog, they just are—was watching indifferently as I shot some image of The New Bike That Needs A Name.

The new bike bunny. Is the new bike "Bunny?" No, sounds too much like an exotic dancer's stage name.

I timed one mile (no computer) and it took 5 minutes. That’s 12 miles an hour, but there were two roads I had to slow down for in that mile. So I timed the next mile. It was 4 minutes, 15 miles an hour, but I was battling the same headwind we had faced earlier. So after the photo shoot, I timed the same mile again and did it in about 3 ½ minutes or between 17 and 18 mph. Not a land speed record, and probably not my fastest mile on Francis, under the right conditions, but these were miles at the end of a long biking day.

Between 6 or so miles on that trail, maybe 3 miles to get to those 6 miles and 5 miles more on the way home (I did the neighborhood hill just because), I didn’t quite get to my 60 miles. But I got close. Add 14 to 44 and you get 58.

Also, there is no computer on What’s Its Name, so who knows? Maybe I did 60. I think it’s a good sign that I was able to do my hill practice at the end of those miles, too.

I do feel a bit more ready for RAGBRAI.

And don’t worry, Francis. I will put a new tube on you (and a new tire) and get you ready to ride. You’re still my main commuting pickup truck of a bike, and you are the bike with the tot seat for small grandchildren to ride on. You won’t rest in the garage, buddy.

But I would be telling a lie if I didn’t admit I’m pretty happy with, with ….

Well, with whom? Blog pals? What shall we call this dainty new silver road bike?

I'll have to wear my backpack water bag--no front basket could fit on this bike. The multi-position handlebars with dual brake controls are still totally worth it.

In Which the Beast Rescues Some Winter Rides

Later Sunday afternoon--the 20-minute tube change turned into a 90-minute saga, but at the end, I did have a winter beater bike to ride. New lights were easy to swap to new bike, too.

Well, darn. The flat tyre on Frances is still flat. I had a spare tube, but when I installed it on Sunday, it turned out the valve was defective.

So on the warmest, sunniest day so far in our little warm spell, I had no bike. I was also busy so I didn't have a lot of time, either. But I had planned to go to the gym and planned to bike there.

Then, I had a bright idea. I can’t ride The Beast because it has some broken spokes. What if I put the pedals from The Beast on Jon’s bike? A little voice said the pavement might be damp—I do not want to expose Fancy Bike to any rust—but I tried.

Perhaps fortunately, The Beast refused to relinquish its pedals.

Then I had bright idea number two:My wife’s bike is the same brand and same size as The Beast. It’s a lady bike, but the back wheel doesn't seem gender specific. Would her wheel fit The Beast?

Yes. Don’t tell her, but The Beast is now a Frankenbike and can again be ridden. I rode it Sunday both to the gym and to and from campus, and also commuted with it on Monday.

It was always my plan for The Beast to be my “winter beater” bike. It was cold Monday night when I was going home, and the pavement was a bit damp--scary sparkly in places in the way damp pavement gets when it gets dangerous to bike on.

So I was pretty happy to be on a ridiculous old Schwinn mountain bike rather than my regular commuting bike, let alone my son’s fancy bike.

On Tuesday and Wednesday I drove—weather is too misty for biking, with possible snow. But I am happy that I now have a winter beater!

By the way, I drafted this post during a workshop on shared Google Docs documents in Busse Library at Mount Mercy. One of the other classmates commented: You need to get a windshield for your bike! :)

I’ll Get By With a Little Help

Tool and frame pump I'm borrowing from Jon.  The cap is just the one for the new tube I've installed, it's not a borrowed tool, too.

Would Jon's pump fit the bracket for a different brand of pump I had before?  Yes, it would.

Heard from Jon and Nalena today.  I missed the Skype session because I was getting in a few RAGBRAI miles, but them's the breaks.  They are safe in Paraguay and starting their Peace Corps training.

Anyway, I’m borrowing some of Jon’s stuff (with his permission).  He had a frame pump, which I tested on my flat front tire.  After swapping out the tube, I pumped up the tire with the frame pump.  Well, it worked much better than my old plastic frame pump, so it’s earned a spot on RAGBRAI and RAGBRAI training rides—but it isn’t as good as a foot pump, so I topped off the tire before the ride.

Jon also has a bike tool kit, a sort of all in one Swiss Army knife of bike stuff.  Again, I’ll take it along, although I’ll have to be careful.  It’s small and semi-cool, so I’ll have to ensure I bring it back from RAGBRAI.

Still did not break 100 miles this week, although I did get in around 15 miles today.  I will take a longer bike ride tomorrow and break the century mark this week, I promise.

And yes, I’ll try to get the junk bike running so if I pop another spoke, I won’t be reduced to riding Audrey’s bike.

A Flat! And a Rave to Make Up For It ...

I had a flat on Fat Tuesday, sad day.

It took a few minutes to fix, and a while to find a functioning bike pump at MMU. I proved, by the way, that my frame pump is naught but decoration. Still, the tire was eventually inflated and the ride home was on two wheels.

And then, on my other blog, I raved for a while about a rude dude and his anti-bike bigotry.

That felt good. See it here.

My Goose is Cooked

I was on my way to work this morning, when another biker told me some exciting news. He stated that the city has installed bike sensors on the right hand lanes of F Avenue where it meets Collins Road, which means if I’m at the right place in the correct lane, the light can be triggered by my bike, and I don’t have to waste a lot of time waiting for cars.

Well, he told me that when we were already on F, so I didn’t get a chance this morning to seek, see, photograph or try the mythical bike sensors, but I was pretty jazzed on the way to work, thinking that I would take a picture of them and have an image and topic for my next post.

Alas. Best laid plans of mice, men and bikers and all that.

Meanwhile nearing the end of my morning commute, I was on Eastern Avenue headed towards Regis Middle School. I usually turn down a side street, 27^th, I think, but as I neared that final corner, fate decided to take a hand.

I looked up and saw a large crowd of geese on the lawn of Regis. Rather than turn, I proceeded on Eastern to the corner of whatever street Regis (and MMU) is on, and took out my trusty Kodak. I counted more than 60 geese and took a few photos, but when I put the camera away and got ready to finish my morning ride., I made the sad discovery.

Something at the corner must have been sharp enough to puncture tire and tube. I had a flat.

Sigh. No afternoon commute, no verification of the bike sensors, no happy post about a key intersection finally becoming bike friendly.

Well, if they’re there, the sensors will still be there tomorrow. After Audrey gave me a ride this evening, it took me 15 minutes to change my tube. Knock on wood that the new one is still full of air in the morning (I’ve now and then had a new one prove to be holey, too), and I’ll check out the bike pavement sensors then.

A Flat! And Not a Musical Note .....

I was a bit stiff and sore last night, after my 64-mile ride, and briefly had painful cramps in the large muscle of my upper left leg. The bigger the muscle, the more painful the cramp, and I was making unhappy "ouch" noises while Audrey was asking me "what's wrong?"

Well, clearly, my command of speech while my brain is reeling from a leg cramps is limited. Eventually I managed to moan out the words "leg cramp," which I think were a relief to her since it's wasn't a heart attack.

So I wondered what the night and next day would bring. See photo of my tired face, taken during my final break yesterday before doing the last 11 miles of my ride. After that, I expected many physical problems--I have a touchy back which can get quite painful, and I thought walking would be a challenge today.

The night, surprise, surprise, brought a full 8 hours of restful sleep--not that normal for a mid-50s man. Our ability to sleep soundly does not improve with age, or at least mine doesn't. (And no, although it is true that I make more sound when sleeping now, that's not the same as soundly sleeping .....) But 64 miles will knock you out like a six pack, and there's far less danger of accidentally dampening the sheets.

And the morning produced another miracle. I was indeed stiff and sore, but I wake up almost every morning stiff and sore--another perk of middle age. I was not exceptionally stiff and shore, and after walking around and stretching, was ready for the short bike ride to the gym.

But, my bike had other plans, specifically, a flat tire in the front. My previous flats had been in the rear, so the bike maintenance problems are branching out.

Anyway, zero miles so far today. Going to do a little mechanical work--fix the flat and install a new mirror--and I hope to get a few miles in this evening. Wish me luck. My mechanical skills are like my innate musical talent--almost nonexistent, but if I keep pushing I can sometimes do something.

I guess an off day after yesterday is OK, although I did plan to go into work today. My mighty steed did not cooperate. More miles, and work, tomorrow!

Bike Repairs, Big and Small

Well, folks, I got in 25 miles today, before it happened.

I was crossing the parking lot at Go Daddy in Hiawatha--my usual route from the Cedar River Trail towards my house some 3 miles east of there in north Cedar Rapids--when I felt like the bike did a shimmy. A sidestep, a slide--or some other dance move.

I don't dance, and neither does my bike. I was worried a whole bunch of spokes must have popped at once and the rear wheel was rapidly disintegrating like the old computer on Star Trek that went up in smoke when it was asked to compute pi to the last digit.

The wheel and spokes were fine. But the inner tube was deflating.

Feeling as deflated as my back wheel, I started walking home. As I walked, the back wheel lost it's remaining air, and the tire separated from the wheel wall and began to get in the way of the brake. Every rotation of the wheel it got stuck. Every time--and did I mention I was three miles from home?

I called Audrey for a rescue ride. She was at a park with grandkids and had to take them home to come get me. 5 minutes after I called her, I figured out that if I carefully kept the bike totally upright and walked fairly slowly, I could avoid the brake problem--tried to call her back to cancel the rescue (3 miles is a hike, but doable), but it was too late.

Sigh. So we stopped at the bike shop and got me a new inner tube. Not going to do RAGBRAI on a patched tube that has been flat before!

In the meantime, I found a frame pump to put on my bike--won't work as well as the foot pump, but will certainly be more portable. And I super glued the mirror that you see on today's sports page of The Gazette.

Will have to fix the tube tomorrow, as I have some on-campus commitments. But it should be doable, and I will like having the mirror back (the mirror had snapped off of the other piece). Finally, Audrey got me new lights (I wanted two rear lights and having another front one is fine, too) that I got batteries for today, so I'll install those.

Between those chores and the computer I installed over the weekend, and Blackie has been having a lot of work done. Well, better now than 40 miles outside of Glenwood. And I'm glad the tire went flat in Hiawatha and not Thursday night in Center Point!