The School of Hard Knocks; Don't Drift on Dented Rims

Impressed by some youtube videos, the other day I set out to teach myself to drift and do doughnuts on my bicycle. Drifting was easy. Doing doughnuts proved impossible for me, at least on the bicycles I had at my disposal: a wal-mart moutain bike-ish hybrid, and my Franklin road bike. I drifted through turns for a few days and without realizing it I wore through the millimeter-or-so of rubber bonded to the case of my tubular that passes for tire tread. There is a defect in my rear rim (earned from the unforgiving edge of a pothole on the outskirts of Querbes Golf Course) that causes my caliper brake to stop it always in the same spot when braking heavily.  Jump ahead a week or so and a friend and I decide to bike to our local (corporate) video store which is seven-or-so miles away; I on my Franklin and he on my yellow Goodwill cruiser. We had covered probably five miles of that distance when we had to stop for a small family of five: mom, dad, and three children to cross the street to a Catholic Church. As I decelerated there was a loud bang and hiss from my rear tire that frightened both my fellow rider and this God fearing family (the children ran for it). Instantly I knew what had happened; I'd had a blow-out at 100 psi.

This was way louder than it looks.

I walked my wounded road bike a block to Broadmoor Library and chained it up. I put my friend on the handlebars of the yellow cruiser and pedaled him the rest of the way to the video store. Riding together we laughed at how funny a picture we must have been striking and bemoaned not having a camera to capture it. I described to him how I am often struck by such humor when realizing I am an unemployed twenty-eight year old loser still living with his parents and riding a bike to his local comic book store. Then he and I marveled that I had ever managed to have a girlfriend at all. At the video store we rented Maximum Overdrive and then went to grocery store next door and bought some 1 liter Tecates so I could drown the dissappointment of my life. When we returned to the library another friend was kind enough to give us and my bicycles a ride back home in her VW van, saving the day ($30 mistake with tubular tire excepted).

The day after this debacle I got the MKS dust caps in for my Campagnolo pedals.

All in all I consider them a very good replacement; and the monicker they bare has proven not to bother me so much. They are quite beautiful for $4.

The New Weird.

I went to River City Cycling on Youree drive today and was able to order the MKS dust caps that I need for the Franklin (they were $1 more than online, but better to give that business to someone local). While there I got to test ride a Cannondale that is $980 worth of bad-ass, the Cannondale Hooligan 3. Cursing my poverty I marveled at its absolutely beautiful and bizare lines; it's built like a folding bike but does not collapse. It has twenty inch wheels but could accommodate someone well larger than my 6' frame. Completely weird and completely my kind of bike except that it's aluminum; though if I had a thousand dollars I could just throw away I'd probably be willing to buy its novelty anyway. Here's a picture from the Cannondale website:

The one at River City was matte black with grey/white reflective lettering and details. I prefer this white, red and black color scheme; it looks like a communist propaganda bike. With an aesthetic like this maybe the Reds could have ideologically defeated capitalism (by turning heads).

Just Another Saturday Morning.

I had joyous reason to wake up and ride again this past Saturday morning, The Highland Blues and Jazz Festival. A group of friends and I took off from Starbucks on Line Avenue and headed for the show at Columbia Park.

Trading bikes for a bit.

I'm ashamed to admit that I did not listen to that much of the music. I mostly just socialized. Had a few beers and kicked around a bit; ate some excellent Caribbean food (which I did not know anyone in Shreveport cooked). There was also reputed to be very good Indian food provided by India's (Youree Drive), though I did not get to try any of that. Then we walked to Columbia Cafe for more beer.

This is Highland's memorial.

Later, one down, we rode for home.

I have to say it was a fun day. Though I think the rides (to and from the festival) were my favorite parts.

On a more somber note, while joking in my last post about my bicycle crank boasting coffee stains I was horrified to realize from the photo that one of my pedals had lost its dust cap. I retraced my route but was unable to locate it and a replacement Campagnolo branded dust cap is nigh $30. To my salvation and to the shame of my Campagnolo pedals, they will now have to bare the brand MKS on their dust caps; as MKS's dust caps are only $3 and Campy compatible.

Good Times!

Woke up this past Saturday morning to an enjoyable event. The Velo Dendro Tour of Shreveport. I was happy to attend and enlisted my dad and friend to ride as well.

Franklin's crank sporting appropriate early morning coffee stains.

My friend brought her father's shaft driven Dekra, which is the first shaft driven bike I've ever seen in person. She let me do some doughnuts on it to try it out before she jumped back on it for the tour.

The tour began at Columbia Cafe on Kings and Creswell. It staggered through a few tree related stops to downtown, then the river front, back into Highland for a SWEPCO demonstration, a look at a massive old live oak and the return to Columbia Cafe.

A church carnival.

A local broadcast journalist (in black)  for channel six rode.

Awesome riding vest!

The Slattery Live Oak (it's famous). 

All in all it was a pretty fun ride once it really got going. Some cool bikes showed up too.

Old school Huffy street cred. Respect!

A vintage univega.

A Peugeot mixte.

A Schwinn tandem.

It was inspiring. About 60 or 70 people showed up which gives me hope that someday a successful Critical Mass might be organized here.

Fail by Rail

I tried to catch an Amtrak train into Dallas, TX in hopes of being able to write about the experience and its bicycle compatibilities (I do dream of one day owning a Brompton, Dahon or Moulton AR). However, upon my arrival at the station an hour away from home I found out that the train was delayed five hours away due to a freight derailment. So, I canceled the ticket and drove back home. I'll have to save that piece of reportage for a later date.

In the meantime, I've been marveling at all the wonderful pictures here, at a blog about broken carbon fiber. I have never planned on owning a carbon fiber frame as I don't race, value utility greatly and expect a relatively long usable life from the products I grudging spend what little money i have on; so chromoly steel is probably the most exotic frame material I'll ever consider. This blog and its pictures/horror stories did not enhance my opinion of the use of carbon in the bicycling industry (I live in Louisiana and need my bike to be able to withstand the rigorous trial of road kill), but they have been exceptionally entertaining. Here's to the need of others to own the latest and greatest and to suffer also fantastically new, never before seen catastrophes. May the wealthy always be so unwise with there money, we poor people need something to laugh at.