Maintenance Day

Rolling past the end of June puts us at the mid-point of the calendar year, and it happens, here in the US, to be followed by a holiday weekend (at least this year). This seemed like a good point to take a day to do some routine maintenance and reflection on how my cycling year was going.

When I say "maintenance", I mostly mean that I decided to take a day to address issues that I’ve noticed while riding over recent weeks (maybe months) but have mentally set aside in favor of riding. This is not always ideal, but I am certain I am not the only person who does it.

Top on my list was addressing front end alignment. I’d had an issue with tire wear back in April, and I’d purchased new tires and re-set the alignment following the instructions in the Catrike Manual. Now - about 700 miles since putting the new tires on - I was noticing somewhat uneven wear on the outside edges of those tires. I’d gone back and forth on this in my head. First I questioned whether I was really seeing it, and when it became more undeniable, I debated whether to take the trike in to the shop to have it - and any other maintenance - addressed.

This debate occurs in part because, although I’m getting better at it, I am still not a confident bike mechanic. In many ways, the ways of cycle repair and adjustment seem a black art, with myself but a novice, and afraid that I will accidentally summon a demon if I recite the incantation incorrectly.

Or something like that. I’m pretty sure that’s what’s going on in the back room of the bike repair shop - probably summoning Balrogs. I hear Balrogs do bike repair...

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The thing is, the bike shop is almost an hour away and, in our troubled times, requires an appointment be made in advance. My trike would likely be gone at least two days, possibly three. I do have an alternative to the trike, of course, but I don’t want to use it. And so I remind myself that these are the reasons I’m learning to do it on my own.

Alignment isn’t hard work, but it’s fiddly. And, of course, it seems like my first go at it either wasn’t quite right, or perhaps it had worked it’s way out (though the nuts around the adjuster bar were still quite tight). At this point it appeared I had too much toe-in, so I worked it back out a bit. This required a lot of moving back and forth with my measurement tool - a bit of telescoping curtain rod - but I think I have it set better now. Time will tell (and I think I’ll order a second set of tires just in case).

The other area I wanted to address was either an issue with the chain length or the derailleur, and I wasn’t sure which. I have been having trouble getting the Expedition to shift into the big ring on the back. Sometimes it would go, but others it would do that characteristic clattering sound that is the functional equivalent of the trike saying "I’m trying, Boss, I’m trying", but with no joy. The chatter is there for other gears, and I’d been having issues with single clicks of the shifter periodically jumping two gears at a time. More recently, I’d also been having some issue with shifts into higher gears simply not grabbing at all for several seconds.

This latter issue is particularly concerning when it happens just as you are shifting up to pull away from a chasing canine. Which is, of course, always when it happens.

I’d adjusted the boom in just a bit a few months ago due to some issues with knee pain. It was a small adjustment - I really just needed to make up for the difference in length needed to accommodate for winter clothes and boots - but it made me wonder if the chain was now too loose (remember - dark art). So my next task was to take a link out of the chain.

This I’ve actually gotten pretty good at, using a wire to keep the two ends nearby, and popping those pins in and out with the tool. I did quickly discover that my workbench was not at the ideal height for this particular task, requiring a little more bending than I’d prefer, but I got the link removed, got it all back together, and ran it through the gears...

...And it was clear, as I hit the two big rings together - twenty-first gear, I believe - that the chain was now too tight. It would still spin, but it was very taught and rubbing tightly against the lower chain tube.

So I muttered a few less-than polite words to myself and Calamity Jane, my trusty sidekick for the day, and went and put the link back in.

This meant that I was going to have to fiddle with the derailleur. To me, this particular part always seems the darkest of the black arts, and if I’m being honest, part of the reason I started with adjusting the length of the chain was in hopes that I wouldn't have to interact with it.

Fortunately, Utah Trikes has a very nice video laying out how to adjust the derailleur. Five minutes into it I was able to get the chain to reliably move to the top ring of the cassette. The adjustment to address gear skipping took a little longer, but I think I’ve got it sorted out now. I say "I think" because I definitely got it to stop happening on the work bench, but I haven’t taken it out on the road yet. That - which will probably happen later today - will be the ultimate test of my conjuring.

While I was at it I cleaned the chain (wiped it down anyway) and re-oiled it, and wiped everything else down as well. I did brief checks on the brake connections and made sure the wheel skewers were properly tightened down. I have come to realize, as my riding time goes up, that I need to do this sort of thing more regularly. I was able to more or less get away with annual spring tunings at the bike shop with my Cannondale. But my highest mileage year on the Cannondale was about 750 miles, and I’m already well past that now for 2020. More riding means more wear and tear, of course, and that means more maintenance. Plus, while I love my trikes, they are mechanically more complicated than the Cannondale - one extra wheel, 18 more gears, and much more chain, among other things, makes for more to keep track of.

As I’ve hinted, I didn’t go for a ride after completing my maintenance. Working on the trike was actually my second project of the day (the first involved putting a swing, which had been the victim of the prairie winds, back together), and it was relaxation time by the time I got everything back together and my tools put away. So I put the Expedition back into the Mobile Trike Garage, locked everything up for the night, and consulted with my beer fridge.

But today? Today I’ll test it all out. Today I ride.

Unnatural Phenomena

In my time first growing up in, and then leaving and returning to rural Northern Illinois, I’ve come to appreciate the quiet beauty of the countryside. While I think this is true for most people out here, it’s clear that, for a small subset of folks a quiet, empty countryside represents an opportunity to divest oneself of waste material without the need for use of purpose-built receptacles and distribution systems.

In simple terms: they view rural lands as a personal dumping ground.

Riding the trike through the countryside puts one directly in contact with these events. On rare occasions this reaches extreme levels, and some of the things you see are perplexing.

Unhappy Meal

Now, I’m not saying it’s unusual to find fast food refuse on a country road. That isn’t the perplexing part. What is unusual is that this appears to be an entire Happy Meal. How does this happen? Did they set it on the roof and forget it? Given that the closest McDonalds is about 5 miles away that seems unlikely. Did the child it was intended for get mouthy on the trip home, resulting in an exasperated parent throwing their meal out the window?

Either way, it was now an Unhappy Meal... (feel free to insert your own rim shot here)

A week or two later I came across a similar phenomenon:

Why did the McChicken cross the road?

Yes - that does appear to be an entire, intact and wrapped McChicken Sandwich. And yes, it is sitting at the edge of the road, completely unmolested, as if it was simply set there gently by caring hands.

I came across it about a mile away from, and four days after, coming across the Unhappy Meal, so they seem to be different phenomena. Did someone, perhaps, pick the sandwich up out of the bag, hit a bump, and drop it out the window? Was it an offering to the great asphalt gods of Illinois, in an effort to keep in their favor and maintain our paved roads, keeping away the gravel? Has McDonald’s been working on a teleportation delivery system, but still hasn’t worked out the bugs? (That would be far preferable to the two-lane drive-thru system).

And if it did fall out a window, the maintenance of structural integrity is either a testament to the wrapping job or an indictment of the sandwich materials.

But if these items are puzzling, the more usual items found fall more into the category marked "frustrating"...

Anybody have a light?

However, by far the most common thing that one comes across when riding the country roads is... anyone? Anyone?

That’s right - beer containers. Usually cans, sometimes bottles, sometimes the ancillary components. This is, on its face, a blight upon the countryside, and it raises the question as to what the disposition of those containers was prior to finding placement in the ditch. But as with anything that one encounters in a high enough frequency, it starts to become usual, almost expected. And that means that it might be helpful to look at it another way. So I decided to give that a try:

My little buddy Weiser

My little buddy Weiser

Hiding behind the Busches

As I began to do more and more of this I began to detect... well... something of a pattern to the containers I was finding. See if you can find it too...

It’s the Silver Bullet

George? W? Jeb?

Friends don’t let friends drink…

No virus jokes, please.

Bottle-fed

Less filling, but not less littering

Are you seeing it? Maybe one more will help:

If you aren’t familiar with the brand, that’s a Natural Light can. Natural Light bears the distinction of being the beer so cheap it’s what the fraternities bought in kegs for party nights when I was in college. It is truly the beer that one consumes when the goal is intoxication at minimum expense. Assuming, of course, one does not consider the sacrifice of flavor an expense.

What I increasingly came to realize, as I rode along and took stock (and photos) of all of this is that the Venn Diagram between people with bad taste in beer and people who are countryside litterbugs is essentially a perfect circle.

Of course, there’s always an occasional exception to the rule...

Heinekant

For the casual observer it would be easy to assume that the act of tossing beer cans out the window is an occasional event - that these cans just sit out in the ditch for an extended period of time, non-degradable testaments to relatively rare behavior. The very generous might even assume that these blew out of the back of trucks of people who were taking them in to recycle.

I ride portions of the same routes over and over again, since my driveway is my common starting point. I can assure you there are routinely new additions to the crop, and while there are some of the same brands represented here, each picture is a unique individual - perhaps the cans are reproducing in the rich Illinois soil...

Or perhaps not - they usually show up in linear groupings. It’s harder to see among the Busch and Bud Light cans due to sheer volume, but when something less typical shows up it becomes clearer.

Red Apple, Orange Trike

Red Apple Redux

While they look similar, these are shots of two unique individuals. The second picture is about a quarter mile down the road from the first. If I’d kept looking, or maybe if I’d gone back the other way, I wouldn't have been surprised to find others at a similar frequency. I’ll leave the how and why of it to your imagination.

This spontaneous sprouting of aluminum receptacles is not a new phenomenon to the open lands. When I was a kid growing up out here I briefly started a beer can collection from cans I picked up alongside the roads. I say briefly, because I was probably about 10 years old, and the idea of cleaning them out before putting them on display simply did not occur. It was not long before the growing smell resulted in a parental eviction of my prized possessions. Clearly the loss haunts me to this day.

And, if I’m being honest, I suppose I’m part of the problem. I do recycle aluminum cans, and I’d like to be able to say that I stop and pick up these blemishes of the byway, but I don’t. While I’ve considered it, I’d have to set up the trike to do it and make a special trip. Otherwise I mostly ride for exercise, and I’d never get above 10 mph if I stopped to pick up every can I encountered.

I’m not sure trying to look at them a different way really helped, but it seemed worth the try. I have no doubt there was an occasional passerby wondering what the hell the oddball with the trike was doing now, on his hands and knees in the ditch with his camera. And I have to give it to them - I’d consider myself an oddball too.

Time to ride - but I think without the pictures today...

Alternate Cycling Universe

As the world continues to struggle with the ongoing pandemic there is ongoing discussion about the changes that it is and will cause to our lifestyles. The nature of shopping, social gathering, and working are all seeing changes.

Transportation is also being affected. Bike shops are running out of inventory as people look for a means to exercise in the out of doors and for an alternative to public transit. We see cities making changes to the ways that streets and byways are used, closing spaces to automobile traffic in favor of human-powered options.

I often find myself wondering what our society’s would look like in terms of transportation if things developed along different lines - if the development of the internal combustion engine hadn’t come along when it did, spawning our embrace of, and dependence upon, the automobile. And lately I am wondering if we might not be starting to see a bit of what might have been.

A few years ago, inspired by reading David McCullough’s Wright Brothers biography, I put together a timeline analysis of bicycle adoption. To sum it up briefly, the development of the safety bicycle - essentially our modern bicycle - happened so closely in time to the automobile that, in my humble opinion, cycling never had a chance to take hold before people had a motorized option.

What if that hadn’t happened? What if, say, the internal combustion had never been invented or perfected to the point that it could be made in a small enough package to power personal transportation?

It does seem that, prior to the introduction of the Benz Patent-Motorwagen, the world was not necessarily expecting such a thing to develop. A trip through cycling history sites shows that there was considerable effort in the 1800’s to develop human powered vehicles. Yes, we all know about the penny-farthing bikes of the 1870’s, but things started ahead of that...

Folks were clearly pretty inventive. They didn’t yet have the key developments - pneumatic tires, effective gearing, lightweight materials - that make our modern machines so capable, but they were clearly on the path. If those inventions had come along earlier or if, as we said, the internal combustion engine hadn’t, I suspect our transportation sector would look very different. What would that alternate universe look like?

I don’t think anyone would argue that human-powered vehicles would be routinely used for long-distance transport. I suspect we’d see rail heavily employed for that purpose. While it’s sadly insufficient here in the United States, rail is still a primary transportation mechanism in many countries around the world. Early locomotives were, of course, built on external combustion engines, so they fit with our thought experiment. Many trains now are electrically powered, and we’re going to assume development of electric systems would have progressed as they have in our current day. For the US this would be a significant change - we’d likely see railroads in the place of our interstate highway system, connecting our cities and towns, probably with express routes between major cities supplemented by regional and local lines.

I’ll pause here let my fellow US citizens picture that - it’s a mental image that takes a little while to absorb. No highways.

It would also mean no heavy motor vehicles - no long-haul or short trucks, etc. The US used to be covered with rail lines and spurs to facilitate local movement of heavy goods like grains and coal. Cyclists in the States are already familiar with that fact, at least obliquely - it’s the bulk of what Rails to Trails was built on, recovering the land from defunct rail lines.

Or - perhaps by the equivalent of current day in our alternate universe it would be more accurate to say: there would be no heavy motor vehicles with internal combustion engines. It might be the case that electric vehicle technology would have evolved sufficiently for short-haul heavy vehicles (range being a long-term problem for electric vehicles we are only now starting to solve). So - perhaps electric farm equipment, and electric trucks bringing loads to the local depot for rail transit. But I suspect that our alternate universe would have relied on animal power for moving heavy loads for much longer than our actual one did.

For virtually everything else - for short distance transportation, certainly, and possibly medium distance as well - I think we’d be looking at human-powered vehicles. After all, cycling is the most efficient known form of human transport.

One of the things about this aspect that fascinates me is trying to consider the form those HPV’s would take. I don’t take it as read that we’d all be tooling around on a typical upright, diamond-frame bicycle at this point. In our alternate universe the HPV is the primary means of transportation, and would have had nearly 200 years of development with that as a focus. In our actual universe cycling has been somewhat sidelined as a recreational activity and/or as a transportation option for children and for those who cannot afford, or are not allowed, motorized alternatives (when I say "not allowed" I am picturing the men you see riding an old bike wearing work clothes and smoking a cigarette - I suspect we all know what’s going on there...).

Without that sidelining our alternate universe might well have seen cycling technology advance at a much more rapid pace. Consider, for example, that the first derailleur system was developed between 1900 and 1910, but we didn’t really start to see bikes with multiple speed gear sets here in the US until the mid-1960’s. Now we have cycling machines with extensive gear ranges - I’ve got 30 speeds on my Catrike Expedition, for example - but those are relatively recent developments. I suspect they’d have happened sooner in our alternate history. Similarly, we’d likely have seen the adoption of more exotic materials - aluminum, titanium at least - earlier on to reduce weight.

I mentioned above that I suspect we - or at least, most of us - wouldn't be riding around on upright two-wheeled bikes. While I obviously have a bias here towards recumbent trikes, I come by it honestly. Some people come to trikes because, for one reason or another, they aren’t able to ride an upright. While there’s nothing wrong with that - I love that trikes let people continue to ride - I came to trikes because I think they are cool. Since I first saw an article on a Greenspeed, probably 15 years ago (possibly longer), I’ve wanted one. And one of the first things I thought about it was: "that is the natural evolution of the bicycle". In addition, with HPV’s being the primary form of transportation we wouldn't have been as likely to see the ban on recumbents by the UCI that is felt to have propped up the upright bike over recumbents in the 1930’s.

Not to say that I think our alternate universe denizens would necessarily be riding about on Catrikes and HP Velotechniks. Actually, I suspect people would be mostly moving about in something like a Velomobile. Particularly in less weather friendly areas, an enclosed human powered vehicle would make more sense, and riders would benefit from the aerodynamic advantages as well. I suspect they’d be somewhat different than what we see now - there would likely be a need for better cargo carrying options, though perhaps that could be managed with trailers or similar systems. Pulling a trailer is an acquired skill when it’s behind a motor vehicle. It’s considerably less intimidating a task when it’s attached to an HPV.

We are in the middle of an e-bike boom in our our actual world, and one suspects that would have happened much sooner in our alternate world. Having battery support would be needed to operate mechanical systems - wipers and ventilation systems, for example. And while it took a very long time to get electric cars with ranges that match gasoline vehicles, that range wouldn’t be necessary in our alternate reality. But having the battery support would make our HPV’s practical medium-distance vehicles. No train to the next town? It’s only 30 miles - let’s just take the Velomobile...

There are other implications as well. Streets would look different - there would be considerably less need for traffic controls - stop signs and such - and probably no need at all for stoplights. The Dutch have already demonstrated this to a considerable degree. Road surfaces would last longer without the constant pounding of one- to three-ton machines. Pedestrian injuries and traffic deaths in general would be far, far lower. People in would be far more fit, on average, given the routine cardio workout involved in traveling from place to place. Not to mention the lack of issues surrounding air pollution and all of the problems with finding, securing, drilling, refining, and transporting oil.

Will our world look more like the alternate universe we are considering here going forward? It’s hard to say for sure, but the opportunity appears to be there at the moment. The effects aren’t simply academic. Multiple European countries, particularly (but not exclusively) Denmark and the Netherlands have seen many of the benefits listed above with their focus on cycling, and we’ve already seen an improvement in air quality with the reduced automotive traffic during the shelter-at-home orders. And one expects the changes, to the degree they occur, will be seen more in the cities than in rural areas, particularly here in the States - there’s a lot of territory to cover, and that old train network is long gone. But I still enjoy the idea...

Roadsides for Wildlife

Illinois is one of those places for which people - if they are not from here - often seem to have one or two particular perceptions about. The first is that Illinois is synonymous with Chicago. While that’s not remotely true, you can understand why people would make that association. Chicago is the third largest city in the country, and the city proper accounts for over 20% of the state’s population. Include the entire Chicago Metro area, and you’ve accounted for 75% of the population for the entire state. Odds are that, if you’ve met someone from Illinois, they were from the greater Chicago area.

This first point is so pervasive that, on occasion, people from other parts of the state itself will assume that you are from Chicago. When I was in college I had a fellow student ask me where I was from, and when I told him the name of the town and where it was at, he said "so: basically Chicago".

No. But again, you can understand it.

For the rest of the state the picture I think people most commonly have, when they have one at all, is of a flat terrain desolate but for cornfields. There is some truth to that perception - most of Illinois hosts intensive agriculture, and corn is a primary crop. The little town I’m from, in fact, hosts The Sweet Corn Festival every August, so it’s hard to argue that’s not an accurate picture. It’s not the only picture, of course - there are multiple other crops sown here, including soybeans, peas, hay, and so on. But there is a lot of corn.

Despite all of that when I write about my part of rural Illinois - particularly when referring to cycling through it - I often refer to it as "the prairie". Folks looking at satellite shots of the area, or who are traveling over it by plane or even by interstate, might understandably tend towards saying "well, maybe former prairie, but now...?"

Still, prairie is how I think of it. And much of that is due to the roadside.

When I was kid in the 1970’s and 80’s I would routinely see signs in the ditches proclaiming a given area part of the Roadsides for Wildlife program. I was a kid, so I didn’t entirely understand it - in some ways it seemed like it might be an excuse to not mow the ditch. But it turns out it was an active program designed to encourage prairieland wildlife because of the increasing movement towards monoculture (corn) in the state. The Illinois DNR maintains a copy of a brochure for it here on their website. And, while I’m not sure that program is still active (the DNR was actively planting grasses for the purpose), they do still recommend holding off on mowing.

The program was active when I was a kid, and it has a distinctive effect on the landscape that remains for much of the region still. While there are certainly people who fastidiously mow their ditches, many are left to grow. For the cyclist riding in rural Illinois it means that you aren’t just seeing cornfield after cornfield. Rather, there’s prairie right along the roadside:

Depending upon the part of the season you are in, you’ll see not just grass, but also a variety of flowers and flowering plans - clover, as above, but also raspberries and sunflowers and black eyed Susan’s; bee balm and phlox and - of course - the ubiquitous presence of the trusty dandelion, often in great profusion early in the spring before the grasses grow up.

But wait, you say, the program was roadsides for wild life, not wildflowers, right?

Yes:

If you choose the road less traveled - and the ones where mowing is not routinely conducted - you will find those ditches contain a wide variety of critters. The original program was originally focused on prairie birds, and particularly on pheasants, and you will see those here, along with killdeer, red-winged blackbirds, and many others. In addition to the fox, above, who was one of a pair of juveniles curiously playing alongside the road (see here) for more pictures of them) in the past two months I’ve seen countless versions of the aforementioned killdeer (they are prominent because they actively try to lead you away from their nest) and other prairie birds, but also pheasants, hawks, and even a young deer or two out in the fields, one of which stayed still long enough for me to get a pic:

Here’s a bit of a closer look:

"Ok", you say, "so there’s more to see than corn. But it’s still flat."

First, the countryside rolls more than can easily be conveyed in a photograph. But second: Yes - and we’re talking cycling here. Flat is hardly a major downside.

I don’t expect to see legions of cyclists showing up suddenly across the northern Illinois region. But story after story tells us that the bike shops have been cleaned out by people looking for things to do in the era of social distancing. If you are one of those folks yourself, and you live within a reasonable distance of Northern Illinois, you may want to come out our way.

I’ll be the one on the orange trike - and I’ll wave if I see you.

Riding In a Rut

One of the recurring themes to cycling posts here on Applied Life is my ongoing search for opportunities to use my trike as transport. I mentioned recently that, despite the other challenges with our worldwide pandemic, one of the effects of sheltering at and working from home is that it affords increased opportunities for riding. Those combined factors have led me rather predictably to choose to more frequently ride, rather than drive, to check the PO Box I keep for work.

...I seem to have outsmarted myself.

While I’m enjoying my riding, it has seemed of late that I have less to think about on my rides, fewer observations about the countryside, less musing on the emergence and progress of the season. This is unusual for me, and those components are always part of what I enjoy about cycling - the fact that cycling is an activity that takes out into the world, making you a part of it. I had started to wonder why this would be - was cycling starting to lose its allure?

That seemed unlikely, so I took a closer look at my riding patterns in Cyclemeter, and there it was:

I’m almost always riding the same route now.

You might think that would be obvious, but one has a tendency to lose track of these things when in the thick of it, and to overemphasize the exceptions. If you’d asked me to casually talk about my rides over the past month I’d say that I rode to the post office a few times, but then I’d tell you about my trip to the Hennepin Canal Trail and about riding in to get gas for the mower. But when I actually look at the month in Cyclemeter, what is see is that I rode 14 times, and that 10 of those 14 rides - 71% - were virtually identical rides to the post office.

What’s more, two of the other four rides were slightly longer routes that also took me to the post office. I’d added them in for a bit of variety and increased distance, but they still cover much of the same territory. For those doing the math, that means the two standouts that I mentioned above - Hennepin and the gas trip - are the only two rides that were to different destinations.

The only two.

Looking back at April finds a similar story. I may have gotten myself so focused on using my trike for transport that I’ve ridden myself into a bit of a rut.

This is easily rectified, fortunately enough - I have lots of routes mapped out around the area, lots of countryside to ride through. But it does make me wonder a bit about what happens with folks who cycle for transport on a more regular basis. I know from years of experience that driving the same route to work every day results in an overlearning effect, where the task becomes so automatic that one finds it hard to remember things from the trip - you look back on the drive and wonder "did I stop at that stop sign at the corner...?"

Given the number of variables involved in road cycling - the elements, the road imperfections, the automotive traffic, the chasing of dogs - it seems unlikely that one could quite reach the same effect. But a route can, apparently, reach the point where it becomes mundane. I’ll have to remain on guard for that.

And now it’s time to ride... to somewhere different.

Putting the Trike to Work - Trailer Project Follow-Up

I tentatively wrapped up work on my far-too-long delayed trailer project at the beginning of the month. Since then I have had a couple of opportunities to put it to work.

It was clear to me that it would be able to handle light grocery trips and that sort of thing - the canvas covering that it originally came with was up to that, as is used it for that purpose many times back in the days of $4 gasoline. But I was curious as to how things would work, all told, with somewhat heavier items. I’ve had a couple of opportunities to test that out over the past few weeks.

The first was a trip to the general store near my post office box. MLW was out of Coca-Cola, so I offered to pick some up on one of my mailbox rides (these have been frequent occurrences in our time of sheltering at home). One of the first thing I noticed was that the trailer adds enough length to the entire kit that the trike no longer looks ridiculous occupying a parking space:

For this run I brought along rubber bungees as well as ratchet straps as I was unsure what exactly would be the ideal method of securing my treasure. The bungees turned out to be all I needed:

And they arrived home much as I strapped them down initially. I had actually considered picking up a case of beer as well, but I was concerned about the additional weight for this first run. As it stands, a 12-pack of coke (or pop, soda, sugar-fizz - whatever you call it where you are from) comes in at about 10 pounds. Here, as you can see in the picture, I was carrying four of them, so that would come out to 40lbs for the trip.

The second test was yesterday. It was time to mow, and we were going to need gas for the mowing machine. I could have just tossed the gas cans into the mobile trike garage - and I certainly considered that - but this seemed like a good opportunity to try out the trailer with a heavier weight. I have two five-gallon gas cans, and I wanted to fill them both. How much does 10 gallons of gas weigh? Turns out that Siri can tell you that:

I don’t know why Siri knows the answer to that - I actually expected her to send me to a website - but there you have it. I also thought it would be heavier. Long ago I learned "a pint’s a pound the world around" - so, you know, 8 pints to a gallon would be 8 pounds per, thus I assumed it would be 80 lbs. But because of science, it turns out that water is denser, and thus heavier, than gasoline. It also turns out that a 10 gallons of water is actually 83.45 lbs, according to Siri, so I am generally starting to question a lot of things I learned long ago...

But I digress. Even if the gas was not as heavy as I thought it would be, I figured it would still be a good test. In addition to being heavier than the load on the previous run, the gas cans are taller and more awkward. Plus I knew it would give me an opportunity to take this picture:

(I sort of delighted in the special irony of that moment)

This approach also had the bonus of letting me not put gasoline containers in my car. The weather is nice enough now that I could have windows open and such, but I don’t love putting fuel containers in a space that also has carpeting and leather upon which I could quite possibly spill petrol.

So how did it all work out? Pretty well, in both cases. Unloaded the trailer, while almost certainly heavier than it was with its original canvas covering, is not much effort to pull. It probably has some impact on my speed overall - it must, since it would be providing both additional weight and rolling resistance - but it’s not subjectively detectable. It’s a little bouncy unloaded, but not in a way that seems problematic for riding.

Loaded up the weight is certainly detectable. On the 40lb ride I could feel it, but it wasn’t bad and, according to Cyclemeter, it didn’t slow me down. However, I had a tailwind on much of the way back to the tune of 17mph, so that may have had an impact on the return speed.

The additional 20lbs on the gas trip was more work, and definitely slowed me down. On a couple of hills I had to drop into the small ring, which I very rarely need to do on our roads (we do have hills, but they aren’t usually granny-gear level). That isn’t a bad thing, I don’t think - it’s just the reality of physics - and both trike and trailer appeared to handle it just fine.

One thing that did happen in both cases is that the hitch mount on the trike, which I set at parallel to the ground, worked it’s way down at an angle by the time I got back. This seems likely to be an artifact both of the weight, and perhaps also the connector on the hitch, which is a thick piece of nylon:

It works, but it may contribute to the bounciness of trailer, and that may be part of what worked it down. The hitch came with a smaller diameter nylon hookup surrounded by a steel spring, but the spring was too big for the existing tube. I may need to investigate getting a different hitch or modifying this one.

Either way though, it was up to the tasks. I don’t think I’ll often need to carry quite so much weight, but if and when I do, it seems like she’ll manage. And thank goodness she was up to it this time, because it really was time to mow the lawn:

Least Favorite Sort of Day

That’s the forecast for Northern Illinois today, Sunday, May 17th.

It’s almost as if the weather gods do not know, or perhaps do not care, that I am supposed to have a Sunday ride today. Perhaps I’ve displeased them in some way?

I am often skeptical about the presentation of such a forecast - how can it possibly be going to rain the entire rest of the day?

A look at the radar shows how, tho - the weather system plaguing me is a slow-moving, rotational pattern that will just hang over northern Illinois for the rest of the day, dropping rain on us more or less continually.

I do not approve, and I’m not sure why this wasn’t cleared with me before being put into action. I would have required there be some sort of break in the rain to allow for a ride. It’s only polite, frankly.

And - of course - this leaves me wishing that, at some point in the past I’d actually gotten around to purchasing lightweight rain gear suitable for riding in.

Past Erin has screwed me over once again. Hate that guy!

If I get lucky, there may be a period where it looks like the rain will be light enough to allow for some visibility and I can head out with lightweight gear - rash guards and linen pants don’t seem to mind getting wet from time to time.

Until then I guess I’ll have to find something else to do today - watch a movie, read a book - something.

Ugh.

Hennepin Canal Trail - Further Exploration

Here in Illinois we had a loosening in some of the restrictions related to Coronavirus beginning on May 1, and a part of that loosening was the opening of some (but not all) of our state parks.

The Hennepin Canal State Park was initially not on that list, but then it was added. I figured it might be a good opportunity to explore the canal trail further, so I decided to trek out to it last Sunday.

For those not familiar with it, the Hennepin Canal is a very large - if unusually shaped - state park. It consists of two narrow strips of land bounding the canal (of course), one running from Bureau Junction on the Illinois River east-west across about half of the state to the Mississippi River, and another running north-south from Rock Falls to meet the east-west portion just north of Interstate 80. I’ve written about it here before, exploring portions of both the lateral and vertical portions.

I wanted to explore a portion I hadn’t yet seen, and I wanted to avoid people, as much as possible, both for purposes of social distancing and because, as a general rule, I enjoy solitary riding. I figured the portions of the trail that bound towns and settlements would be pretty busy, given the pent-up demand for any activity, so I decided I’d begin in a more rural location. This is not hard to do for the canal - the word rural describes most of it. The last time I’d ridden the Feeder Canal - the north-south part - I’d ended at Route 172. That seemed like a good place to begin, and my plan was to ride from there to the junction of the two sections just north of I80, which would make for about a 40 mile round trip.

Route set, I packed up my trike and mask into the mobile trike garage and headed out.

When I arrived at the entry point for Rte 172 I quietly congratulated myself at my genius. There was only one other vehicle in the parking lot, and the occupant was inside, so I was certain that I was going to pretty much have this section of trail to myself.

I was, shall we say, something different from a genius. It became clear that I had not fully appreciated the degree of pent-up demand for outdoor activity. It also became clear that many folk may not have fully grasped the guidelines given for social distancing, group size, or face coverings. But I had my mask, and I quickly moved it from my bag, where I’d put it in the presumably very unlikely chance that I would need it, to keeping it on my neck so I could quickly apply it when people approached. And I applied it a lot.

I should say, tho, that encountering people was most common within a relatively short distance of a road crossing. Fortunately, there are long stretches of the trail that don’t involve a crossing, and these were as secluded as I could have hoped for.

As I mentioned, I started at 172, which is where I ended when I rode here last June. It had been a wet spring, and I’d encountered a couple of mildly flooded underpasses before getting to 172, but when I arrived there, this is what I encountered:

I’d ridden through the underpasses before, but I couldn't tell how deep that one was and, while I could have ridden up to the road to cross, I had ridden about as far as I wanted, so I let the flood waters turn me around.

I wasn’t sure what I would encounter this time, but I went ahead and decided to start where I ended. Fortunately, it was a different picture this time:

Not only was it not flooded, it looks like work has been done fairly recently to bring the trail under the bridge to a higher grade to help prevent it. I rolled on under and I was on my way.

The trail surface for this section was what I’d remembered from last year - essentially deprecated crushed stone (and packed dirt) with a fair amount of low-lying ground-cover growth in it due to a relative lack of foot traffic.

It’s absolutely passable on the trike, but the going is slow because the surface is somewhat soft. Mountain bikes soft-readers of various sorts would be fine here as well, but you’d be struggling with a road bike, I believe.

It’s also slow because the trail isn’t cleared well - there’s a lot of dead wood on the trail from overhanging trees. This is likely due to the fact that the park is huge, and that it had been closed for the past two months. I don’t remember that being an issue in my prior rides, so it may be less of a problem as the season progresses and park personnel can tend to the trail.

That said, there is a portion of the trail in this section that is - suddenly, inexplicably- paved. The paved section begins about nine miles south of Rte 172, and continues up until the point that I turned around (more on that below). I didn’t pay close attention to where the pavement began at the time, but it was easy to suss out by looking at my route speeds by mile:

In case it’s not immediately clear what I’m showing, the paved portion would be in the circled area:

The views are always everything you could hope for from this sort of location. Spring is underway, so everything is greening up, there are birds on the water and in the trees. I saw fish jump in the canal, a turtle sunning itself on a log, and a snake coiled around a branch at the canal edge. That last fellow I tried to get a picture of, but I was too noisy in my approach and scared him off. However, I did manage to capture this guy:

As you might extrapolate from the name, the Feeder Canal wasn’t designed for shipping. As such, except for at the very beginning, the Feeder Canal doesn’t have any locks. This doesn’t mean that there aren’t things to see for those interested in the history and construct of canals - What the feeder canal has - in spades- is aqueducts. The canal is carried over multiple small streams over the course of the ride, and the first couple of times you see them it takes a bit to fully process what you are seeing. You a riding on a trail with water to one side, perhaps a foot or so below you. But then you and that water both travel overtop another stream five to ten feet or more below you. There are also portions of the trail where you can see creeks running alongside and below the trail at the opposite side of the canal.

It’s a bit surreal because it’s unnatural. But then, of course, so is the canal.

The best and most impressive example of that on this portion of the canal trail is the aqueduct that crosses the Green River.

The Green River itself is also somewhat unnatural - it’s been channelized and modified to drain Inlet Swamp (successsfully - it’s no longer there) about 32 miles to the east as the crow flies. But for that reason it’s large and the aqueduct that crosses it is similarly grand.

My ride ended about two miles south of the Green River Aqueduct, and about four miles short of the junction between the canals. Why would I stop so close to my ride goal? Well, there were a couple of reasons. The first one was this:

I couldn't tell if this was a tree fall from the copse to the far right of the picture, alongside the road below, or perhaps something placed to purposely block the path. Accidental or purposeful, it was doing an effective job of being a barricade. I could have gone around it, and I absolutely considered it, but while it’s a little difficult to tell in the picture, the road to the right is some 15 feet below, down a pretty steep grade. In addition, I didn’t know if it was there on purpose (I know that is sometimes done), and if it was barricaded on purpose I didn’t know what I’d encounter further down.

It was also affected by the fact that I’d already had one flat tire, so I’d already been out longer than I’d anticipated (I am not a rapid tube replacer in the comfort of my garage, much less at the side of a trail). I decided to take the tree as a sign and turned around.

That may have been a better idea that I’d realized, because I got another flat on the way back. That’s right: My trip on this particular day was lengthened by the delight of not one, but two flat tires. They were both on the same wheel (right front), so I suspect I’d gotten something into the tire that flattened the tube it a second time. I also discovered that I’d used up my only new spare on the first change.

This meant that I’d have to do a patch, but it was challenging because it had been a slow leak the second time, which meant a very small hole. Small holes are hard to see, and I stood there for a couple of minutes, moving it between my hands slowly and wishing that I had some water I could put it in to find the leak.

Some of you have no doubt already arrived at it: I was wishing for water.

That’s right - wishing for water while standing next to a canal.

I took a moment to dutifully chastise myself for being a dumbass, then found a spot at the edge I could access, pumped up the tube and stuck it under the water. It literally took seconds to find the leak, and another couple of minutes to patch it and get it in. I also ran hands around the inside of the tire hoping to pull out whatever might be in there. A week and two rides later it’s still holding air, so I must have gotten lucky.

Those moments are frustrating, but they never fail to illustrate the fundamental truth to the fact that even a bad day riding is better than a day without. I was frustrated by the need to fix the flat, frustrated with the fact that I was out of fresh spares, but once I had my canal-water epiphany and got back rolling I felt like a hero and I was enjoying myself again.

It goes without saying (or saying any more at least) that I would absolutely recommend trying out these trails - Hennepin and the I&M as well - if the opportunity presents. But they do require planning. Particularly as you move into the rural areas of each, you are going to be your own support, and they are quite rustic. If that’s a concern, for the Hennepin I’d recommend riding the Feeder Canal - the north-south portion - in and around Rock Falls. The area there is well settled, has lots of stores for supports, and has an excellent local bike shop - Meads - which also sells and services trikes for the three-wheeled riders among us.

In addition, because of the slow nature of the surfaces, for either of the canal trails - Hennepin or the I&M Canal - you want to allot significant additional time for the distance you want to cover. My average speed on the trike is right around 12-13 mph, but I routinely come in under 10mph on average for the canal trails. If you are wanting to cover a fair amount of distance, I’d suggest you just plan to make a day of it. And if you do, it will be a good day!

Trailer Project Part 4 - Finished-ish

Trailer Project Part 4 - Finished-ish

Trailer Project Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

In an effort to not have another year between sessions of working on the trailer I dedicated most of last Sunday to putting it together.

Mostly this session involved time laying it out, thinking through a couple of the design components, and then spending time with my table saw as well as a hammer and nails.

I knew the basic design I was looking for - just a rustic flatbed trailer, with maybe some sides on it to hold things in and/or strap to. And I was considering a rear lip to keep things from sliding off the back:

As the day and my time with it went on, though, I ended up deciding to go with a simpler, more basic approach, at least for the time being:

Part of this was a simple matter of time - as in, I was running out of it. Part of it was questioning the utility or need of the lip. I’ve hauled items on my automotive flatbed trailer - strapped down of course - just fine without having either sides or a rear tailgate. I suspect the same will be true for this device.

I’d also considered putting another layer of palette boards on the outside edges of flatbed - where the blue outline appears here:

This would have largely been a decorative element - it would have covered the joint space between the outside edge pieces and the inside slats, making it look more uniform. I had also briefly considered having the inside slats just float instead of nailing them down, which would have required the pieces on the edge to hold them in. In the end, though, I was surprisingly happy with how well they fit together - I don’t think the joint spaces look too bad, and it should be noted that most of the slats are uncut - the pieces coming off of the palette were surprisingly uniform in length.

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I discarded the idea of having the slats float because I wasn’t convinced I could get them in place tight enough to keep them from rattling over bumps, and our Illinois backroads have plenty of bumps.

I also realized as I went that the decorative edge pieces would mean less flat surface on the trailer - the edges would be raised by the 1/8" or so of the pieces themselves, which would mean less useful area in the trailer. Plus, not having the decorative edge pieces would reduce weight. So - no edge pieces.

I am still mentally debating whether to add some sort of side rail. I cut pieces for them, but one of them split when I started to screw it on. It was at the end of the day and I was running out of patience, so I decided to set them aside for now and see whether I would miss them and/or see a need for them after I actually get to use it.

My attachment approach for getting the flatbed on to the trailer was a combination of a couple of screws and mounting blocks cut from sections of 2x4’s:

I used the wood blocks in part because each of them would/could also be an attachment point for a side rail. There are four bolts at front where the frame sections join, and four at the rear where the wheel attaches that could be used if needed, and I will likely do that if the wood blocks don’t hold up. I didn’t do that here primarily because I don’t have bolts long enough for the job, and part of the idea here was to use materials I had on hand to avoid going to the store and to maintain social distancing.

Once I had it all together I wanted to see how it all would look and work. I’m pleased with how it looks:

The final change I need to make with the trailer is to its hitch. As I mentioned in the second trailer project post, the donor trailer was a 2000 Schwinn Joyrider, and the hitch was designed for attaching to the rear of a diamond frame bike (and even then, only a diamond frame bike with tubing of a specific diameter - it never worked with my Cannondale either). So it won’t connect properly to the frame of the Expedition. I ordered a proper axle hitch to replace the mount.

Still, I wanted to get out for a ride with it attached to see how much the additional weight of the trailer seemed to affect things. So I finagled the old hitch into the rear cargo rack and went out for a ride.

This put the trailer at a bit of a jaunty angle but I wasn’t hauling anything so it didn’t matter.

Overall, it seemed to go pretty well. I did a very familiar 13-ish mile loop that doesn’t take me far from home so I could call for help if there were any significant issues. I did have a short period of time where it seemed to really be slowing me down and pulling me to the right, but that turned out to be a flat right tire (the one where I had to use the tube I’d patched when replacing the tires). This required a bit of swearing and ultimately a roadside repair, but it wasn’t the trailer’s fault. Looking back at the route in Cyclemeter, my speed on this trip for the portion following the tire change appears to be more or less comparable to prior rides without the trailer, which would suggest the weight of the unloaded trailer doesn’t make a lot of difference. I’m sure that won’t be the case once I put things on it to carry, but that would be the case regardless of how I carry things.

I’ll continue to evaluate the need for side rails one way or the other, and as I’d said in Part 3, I wondered about having a raised handle for pushing it as a cart. That would involve either using the old aluminum frame from its stroller days, or building a handle with wood, and either is a possibility. But as I think about it I suspect the likelihood that I’d actually use it as a cart independent of the trike is pretty slim, so that, like the side rails, will probably wait till if or when I see a need for it.

So - at this point I am feeling this is a qualified success, and just one trailer hitch away from being complete. I may do a brief update when I get the new hitch attached and get everything set up.

Until then, it’s time to ride!

Trailer Project Part 3 - Getting on Board(s)

Trailer Project Part 1

Trailer Project Part 2

Trailer Project Part 4

With warming weather and increased time at home, it seemed like a good time to return to my admittedly neglected bike trailer project.

When last I addressed this project - apparently a year(!) ago now - I’d cleaned the canvas shell off of the frame and had started debating about how to build a cargo floor for the trailer.

At the time I mused that the simplest thing would be to use a thin sheet of plywood - and it would - but in my head I was also wondering about perhaps sheet metal - aluminum or galvanized steel might be options - or even some type of plastic. In the abundant amount of time between finishing that stage and now, someone posted a video about using palettes for this purpose. While I lost track of the video itself, the idea resurfaced in my head as I approached this - I didn’t have plywood or any of the other materials I’d been considering, and I did not relish a trip to the big box home improvement store in the era of social distancing. But I did have palettes.

Granted, they were on my burn pile - living in a rural area means lots of trees. Living in a wind farm means lots of wind-fallen tree deteritus, so we usually gather enough for a bonfire every year or so. In the winter I’d decided to dispatch with the palettes as a part of that process - I had kept them in case I had a use for them, but I hadn’t found one, and I wanted the space they occupied for other things. But now?

Fortunately they were still in decent shape, so I brought them in to the garage and started to disassemble them. As is true every time I start a project in the garage, I had company...

As is also true every time I do a project, I think about putting on gloves too late...

Unfortunately, nothing about the knowing what you want to, or of having a plan, gives you the callouses of a carpenter. Those have to be earned.

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I broke down about four palettes and, since they had been out in the weather, I laid them out on garage floor in the sun in order to dry them out.

After several hours in the sun I stacked them up and put them away until my next chance to work on it a few days later.

Once I had a chance to get to them again I broke out the orbital sander and sanded down enough of the boards to cover the base. I wanted to smooth them down - palette boards are pretty rough when raw - and clean them up. Once that was down I laid them out across a couple of reclaimed 1x4’s along the frame to start to get an starting idea of what everything would look like.

And as I laid it out, Rosie signaled her approval of my approach:

With all of the material on the trailer I did a very unscientific evaluation of the weight of it all (I picked it up). Even though there are several pieces of wood it doesn’t appear to be unduly heavy, which was a concern. And I like the way it looks like it will come together.

So now I am weighing a couple of additional components. I’d like to be able to use it as a push cart - because it was originally a combination kid trailer and jogging stroller it can be set up with a front wheel - and I will need to have some sort of side rails. I’m debating whether to use the original aluminum frame assembly, which has a handle for pushing and to which I could attach side rails, or to build something bespoke for that purpose.

The former choice - the aluminum frame - would be quicker and easier. The benefit to the latter approach is that I could cantilever off the back of the trailer a bit to make it longer. I don’t know that I need it to be longer - my current cargo needs are modest, involving mostly trips to the grocery store and similar sorts of outings - but I might want that option in the future.

My plan is to move forward fairly quickly one way or the other. Of course, that was my plan a year ago. Construction time competes with riding time, after all, which is always my challenge.

Re-Tired

To start here, let me note that I am a person who firmly believes that, even if you have some fancy book learnin’, you should still be able to work with your hands.

From about age 12 up to and through college I worked summers for my Dad’s contracting business as a plumber’s helper. That experience, even though I was a essentially a glorified gopher (or maybe not so glorified) has been invaluable through my adult life - it has made me willing and able to do things for myself that I would otherwise have to bring in - and pay - someone else to do. That doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes pay other people anyway, but it means that I often at least have the option.

That being said, I remember the day clearly when, as a young adult, I was opining about the possibility of not going on to school and finding other work. I was saying this to my father, and then I watched his his face as he clearly looked back in his memory and began to recall my handiwork on previous projects before he said: "Son, you should go to college."

It was said with love, and he was right.

This memory comes back me any time I take on something like putting tires on my trike.

Last time I wrote about the rapid deterioration of the front tires on my Catrike Expedition, and how I was fortunate to have made it back without encountering a debilitating failure. But while I’d made it back, having enjoyed one more ride, it was clear that the trike was going to be out of commission until A) the new tires I ordered from Utah Trikes came in; and 2) I could actually get them put on.

The getting them put on was going to be the more challenging part given that, as indicated above, I am someone who’s skills at technical labor indicated that I should go to college... It was also slightly complicated by the fact that I had another issue to deal with. Shortly after I posted that story last week several very helpful folks in the Catrike Owner’s Group on Facebook pointed out that I needed to check my toe-in.

Like my father before them, they were right - shout out here to everyone who offered the idea and suggestions, but especially Jim Aliano, who brought it up first and had multiple helpful suggestions, as well as Bob Richardson who’s practical solution was invaluable.

And I did go out for a ride that day, pressing my trusty 1987 Cannondale SR400 back into service. A little air in the tires and I slid my feet into the stirrups and she was off, ready and raring to go...

...and all the ride really accomplished was to make me miss my trike. It’s honestly the first time in a very long time I can remember being ready for a ride to just be over. It’s not the Cannondale’s fault - she’s doing her best. Its not her, it’s me.

All of which meant that, when the tires arrived this past Wednesday I jumped at the chance to get them on the trike. It also means that Wednesday was when I was once again reminded of my skill level when it comes to working with my hands.

To begin with, I started out with the worse of the two tires, the right side, which had the tear and the bulge in it. In the intervening time between the end of my ride on Saturday and getting to the repair the tube - which had miraculously held while I was riding it - had given up the ghost. I could hardly blame it, so I thanked it for its service and pulled out my spare tubes.

I had three - two new ones, and one that I had patched last summer. But I had one flat, one intact tube on the other wheel, and two new tires. So all good, right?

As I set to getting the old tire off I started by setting the trike on its side and removing the brake caliper, figuring that was the first step towards pulling the wheel off the trike. However, after I did this I realized, looking at the trike sitting sideways, that I didn’t need to remove the wheel. So I stopped with that approach and decided to work with it _on_ the trike.

The old tire came off relatively easily and getting the inside bead set for the new one went by pretty easily as well. I put one of the new tubes in, and then went to getting the outside edge on to the wheel. And that - as always - is where the challenges began.

The recommendation is always that you set the tire in the wheel by hand. I understand the logic behind this and, while I’ve seen it done on multiple occasions by the skilled technicians at bike shops, I lack either the hand strength, the technique, or perhaps both, to do it myself.

So I employed tire levers. Well, if I’m being honest, I employed tire levers and a prodigious amount of swearing. Rosie - who is my frequent companion when I am working in the garage - may have learned a new term or two that evening. Fortunately, she generally keeps these things to herself.

With the levers and the swearing dutifully employed I managed to snap the tire on the wheel. I pulled out the pump and...

...you already know what’s coming right? The tube gave a disheartening hiss as the air came out of wherever I’d managed to pinch a hole with the tire lever.

There may have been more swearing at that point. I think somewhere in there Rosie actually covered her ears with her paws.

But I still had one new tube, and one patched tube to work with so, swearing aside, it was all fine. Just fine.

It becomes a bit of a blur after that, but suffice it to say that I ended up putting a hole in the second new tube, and somewhere in there I managed to snap a plastic tire lever in half (lots of swearing then, let me tell you) and had to default to steel levers and the patched tube to successfully replace that first tire.

That’s right - the first tire.

But there it was, now, mounted on the wheel and holding air - success! However, it was also the case that I’d mounted only one of two new tires, and I had no more spare tubes. Sure, the tube in the other tire was still intact, but given my track record on this task, I was not confident that I’d end up with a new tire on with an inflatable tube.

So I made an executive decision. The tire on the other wheel was worn, but not nearly as badly as the one I’d already replaced. The center was bald, but none of the cord or Kevlar was showing. So I decided to leave it, figuring it would be good for a couple of rides while I waited for more tubes to arrive.

I’m sure that’s the sort of decision that would make some people’s teeth itch, but I’d already been several days without a ride because the Expedition was out of commission and because the Cannondale and I are broke up. I’d reset the toe-in, and though it was an ugly solution, it would get be back on the road.

Itchy teeth or not, I’m pleased to say that this worked out just fine. I was able to get rides in on Thursday and Friday. And Saturday, the tubes arrived:

I wanted some insurance, and hopefully to have tubes left over to put in the pannier bags for another day. And now that the tubes were in, I went ahead and changed the other tire.

Astonishing to no one more than it was to me, I managed to get it in one - and that using metal tire levers. So now things are even again - new shoes on both fronts.

None of this is to say that the struggles will dissuade me. I realized a couple of years ago that, if I was going to keep increasing my riding time I was going to have to build my skills as a bike mechanic. Our nearest bike shop is twenty minutes away and, while they are always very helpful, they do not sell trikes. The nearest trike dealer - Meads Bike Shop - is also very helpful, but it’s an hour one way for me, and so not ideal for everyday problems. The reality is that rural cycling - like many other things rural - means learning to do for yourself.

Tired

I am running just a little shy of 1400 miles on the Expedition since I got it last July. I noticed, as I was extracting it from the mobile trike garage the past couple of rides, that the front tires were starting to look pretty worn.

(With Shelter in Place orders, the mobile trike garage doesn’t go much of anywhere lately, but I’ve found it’s easier to just leave the trike in the Subaru than to back the car out in order to get the trike down from its hooks. I’ve definitely been riding more than driving).

In fact, I’d been noticing the progressive loss of tread on the fronts for the past month or so, but I figured they still had some life in them. By yesterday, tho, it was starting to look pretty bad.

Still, I wanted to ride, and all a blown tire on a trike does usually is strand you - unless you are going very fast downhill there isn’t the risk of wipeout there is on an upright machine. Besides, right now both My Lovely Wife and my child are, like most of us, perpetually at home. A rescue mission would, instead of a hardship, likely seem a welcome opportunity for some variety .

So I rode.

I rode 16 miles out and back, give or take, and rolled back into the driveway without a hint of a problem. I did my usual tear down on the trike - take off the flag, remove the lights to put them on the charger, fold the headrest forward - and put the Expedition into the back of the Subaru. And then I did a tire inspection and found this:

So: It didn’t fail, but failure was imminent.

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It was clear that I was going to have to get new tires. These are the original tires the Expedition came with - Schwalbe Marathon Racers 20x1.50 - and I’ve been pretty happy with them. My criteria for tires is not terribly strict, but I haven’t had a single flat (including, by some miracle, on this last ride) since I’ve gotten them, which wasn’t true on the Pocket with its Marathon Plus’s.

My localest bike shop (about 20 minutes away) doesn’t sell trikes, and so typically doesn’t carry tires or tubes in trike sizes, and they are currently open only by appointment. The closest shop that does carry trikes is an hour away.

So I went online.

A search on Amazon for these tires was... frustrating. Even with the full name of the product and size entered, it was difficult to find an item that was clearly the correct size (e.g. with too many different pieces of information in the description), and the search still returned multiple items that were not matches. Obviously you can return things if they aren’t right, but I really didn’t want to risk waiting through multiple purchase cycles to see if I had the right items.

So I went over to Utah Trikes and ordered them there. I could have tried cross shopping at other online bike shops - I’ve done so for other cycling items I’ve purchased to be sure - but I was A) already frustrated from trying to find things on Amazon; and 2) the information on the Utah Trikes page was extremely clear about what I was ordering; and besides: iii) they were cheaper than on Amazon even with having to pay shipping, so...

And so now I wait, Expedition grounded. I gave brief consideration this morning to applying duct tape across the bulging section - it’s what Red Green would do, after all, but I suspect I used up all of my good fortune on the last ride. The Norns have already smiled upon me, but they are fickle - no need to tempt them further.

It’s a bummer, of course, but I do have options. The Pocket is still here - it belongs to MLW now, but she might let me ride it if I ask nicely. However, I’d have to re-set the boom and re-size the chain to make that work. I also still have my Cannondale road bike always at the ready to ride if needed. I’ve actually gotten fairly good at re-setting sizes on the trikes with practice, so I’m confident that I could do that with the Pocket fairly easily, but the lazy guy in me ensures that I’ll go with the Cannondale first. All I have to do with that is take it down and pump up the tires.

Sometimes people think that they will gain a renewed fondness for a thing that they’ve stepped away from and are now returning to. I’ve been a victim of that impulse in the past, but I’ve been through this with the Cannondale since getting trikes - I already know it won’t happen.

Still, I guess I’ll struggle thru (I can just feel your - understandable - lack of pity for me). Now it’s time to ride... something.

Springing Forward

About a month ago I wrote about the challenges that February seems to provide above all other months in terms of getting out and getting miles in while cycling. For myself, what I observed is that the weather in Northern Illinois, in particular, conspires against you as you try to fit those miles in.

As March rolled in it brought with it, as we all know and are living, a different world. But while that is the case, March also brought along the things that it always offers: warmer weather and longer days.

From a cycling perspective, this March turned out what is, in some respects, a surprising result - it’s my second-highest mileage month on record, and my highest month ever for total number of rides.

For the numbers folks, that’s 218.41 miles across 18 rides in the month of March, an average of 11.86 miles per trip. It’s not a lot compared to many others, but it is for me, and one should always compare one to oneself.

In the time since I’ve been keeping records - nine years now, give or take (thanks Cyclemeter) March has always been more active than February (or it has when both months are on the record - there are years back when where neither of them show up in my app). But it’s usually to a small degree - not anything like this. This year March is literally three times higher than February.

And what’s up with that? In part, I do have an overall trend of increasing my riding - this past February, while lower than its neighboring months was better than Februaries past, and year over year I’ve been increasing since 2017. But there’s more to it as well.

Life has changed for all of us to greater or lesser degrees. There are things that we simply cannot do right now, for the good of ourselves and of others. I think it’s common, in this type of situation, to look at the things we cannot do and yearn for them. But while that is a natural response, a better response is to look for what we can do.

One of the things we can do is ride. While many of us are living under Shelter at Home orders, one of the essential activities listed in those orders in most states (if not all - check your state’s order) is exercise. Illinois’ order explicitly includes exercise as a vital activity, as long as social distancing guidelines are met. Few exercise activities are as inherently suited to those guidelines as cycling.

Honestly, you have to really work hard to stay within six feet of each other on a bike or trike under most circumstances (and why would you want to?).

As the month of March progressed into madness, it started for me with continuing to go into work - I work in healthcare, though in a supportive rather than direct role - but being directed to limit contact and maintain distancing while there, and then ultimately to work from home. I work at one site three days per week, and typically take my trike in to work to ride over lunch at least one day a week, reserving the other two for collegial gatherings over food. Under these circumstances those gatherings were largely impossible, and so it just made sense to leave the trike in the car for each day.

Six days a week I also check a PO Box for work that’s about eight miles from home. Under under normal circumstances I might find the opportunity to ride instead of drive to that box maybe three times per month, maybe once per week at most. In March I took that ride six times, with three of them being over the last week of the month.

Why so many of those trips on the trike? In part, well, why not? The days are longer and my risk of running out of daylight on the way home is progressively lower (and I do have lights on the trike as well), since checking the mail is typically an end-of-the-day activity for me.

But I realize too, maybe now more than ever, cycling (and exercise in general) clears my head and centers me. Virtually all of the news we get now, and 85% of the posts on social media, is related in some way to the pandemic. Add to that the fact that, like all of us, my schedule and routine are completely altered, and when working the reality of the situation is just unavoidable as a topic in virtually every meeting; feeling stressed by all of it is inevitable. In this past week I found myself particularly dismayed by the situation, and talking to MLW about it she listened for a while, and then said to me "have you gone riding?"

And she was right.

When I got done with my ride after that, everything that had me dismayed was still a part of reality, but the effect it had on me had diminished significantly.

None of this is new - not to me and, most likely, not to you either. But even though I’ve been active most of my life I do periodically need the reminder of just how beneficial it is to go out and do things that get your body moving, get your heart rate and breathing up and running. It doesn’t have to be cycling, of course, that’s just my drug of choice - anything that gets the blood flowing is fair game.

I know others are finding this too, at least to some degree. While I was still going in to work I found the path that I typically ride on far busier than in times past. In fact, I drive past it on my way in to work each day (it’s literally right down the road), and in the mornings the parking lot, which has usually been empty in the earlier hours, was now routinely packed.

It’s vital that we remain within the guidelines being provided to us, but within those guidelines it’s also vital that we remain healthy both physically and mentally. Which is why it’s time to ride...

Tiptoeing with the Toe Clips

Last fall I ended my experiment with clipless shoes on my Expedition and installed the TerraTrike Comfort Pedal Conversion Kit - a type of heel sling which I’d already used on the Pocket - on the Expedition. This time around, though, I added a toe clip to the mix - specifically the Evo Double Quick Strapless Toe Clip - instead of going with my prior strategy using Velcro straps across the top of the foot.

That setup looked like this:

One of the questions at the time was as to how the toe clips - which were about $10 and made of plastic - would weather the winter season given the combination of cold weather and additional stretch needed for my heavy-duty winter boots.

I promised a follow-up on that, so here we are. But I have to qualify things up front - it’s only a partial follow-up.

The thing is: I used them all winter, but it literally never got cold enough this winter to require my heavy winter boots. I have a pair of hiking boots that I wear as my regular daily kicks from late November to about April (I’m a sandals guy the rest of the year - hot feet, don’t ya know. No, not hot as in sexy, just hot as in much too warm. And sweaty. And now I’ve said too much...). I use those hiking boots as my riding shoes until the weather drops below, say 20° or so.

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Which it just never did. I mean, we had a couple of cold nights across the course of the season, but I don’t ride at night much at all, and definitely not in the winter. There were probably a couple of days in the mix that also got there, but they didn’t correspond to days that I was free to ride. And I suppose I could have gone riding with the heavy boots on for the sake of science but have I mentioned the hot feet? So - no testing with the heavy boots.

Qualifications made, I’ve now ridden with this arrangement in place for over five months and over 650 miles. This has been thru good weather and bad, and in the snow and cold (but just not really cold). Thus far, what I can say for them is that they work exactly as expected. I see very little evidence of wear or strain on the toe clips, and I’ve had no issue with feet slipping out of the retention. And, as was the case initially, they are much easier to get into and out of than either clipless mounting or than the straps I was using on the Pocket.

So - short but sweet, they continue to work well for me, and the toe clips appear to be more durable than I had honestly expected. For $10 bucks they were a "why not" purchase, figuring I’d be out very little if they didn’t work out. Now I’m seriously thinking of getting another set and putting them on the Pocket for MLW.

In addition, they continue to offer the advantage of working with whatever shoe I have on in the moment. I’m still holding on to the Shimano SPD sandals - I took them with me to Florida in anticipation of possibly needing them when I rented the trike on my trip. But Trailside Bikes had its own solution on the pedals, so the sandals remain relatively pristine.

For Love of Fenders

This week it was raining, and more specifically, it was raining when it was also time to ride.

Generally speaking, I don’t like to ride in the rain. Everything gets wet (big surprise!), mostly me, and then I’m wrapped in damp clothes, and...

The thing is, with everything going on, I’m classified as an essential worker. But to reduce the risk of spreading, my essential work is mostly done in solitude now - in an office, behind a door, alone. I always value cycling, and it’s always provided a change of scenery, but the value I place on that change has increased markedly.

It’s also, apparently, changed how I look at riding in the rain. Well, it, and fenders.

The rain this day was relatively light - not a downpour, not a deluge. And, while I don’t have much by way of dedicated cycling clothing - I’m a middle-aged man, but I’m rarely in Lycra (so... does that make me just a "mam"...?) - I do have gear that I wear specifically for riding to keep the wear and tear (and sweat) off of my regular outfit. As I reasoned through that fact, I realized that, except for shoes and socks, my riding gear represented a complete change of clothing. So that meant that, if I got drenched on the ride, I’d only have to stay drenched while on the ride.

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All three fenders on the trike are beneficial, and they serve the same purpose, broadly speaking, but the experienced impact of them is somewhat different. The front fenders get the lion’s share of the glory while you are riding. If you’ve gone from riding a trike without front fenders to one with, you quickly realize, when in the wet, that water isn’t persistently being flung into your face. The wet, or whatever...

They enhance the enjoyment during the ride to a considerable degree.

The rear fender, for the most part, demonstrates it’s worth after the ride is over. That’s when you realize that you don’t have a vertical stripe of mud and water down your back (you’d think that mesh seat would block that effect, but not so much), and you realize you haven’t had your backside gain an additional five pounds in water weight. That rear fender is an unsung hero until the ride reaches its conclusion.

You could say that I really should just invest in proper wet weather riding gear, and you would be right, of course. I’ve said the same thing to myself on multiple occasions. The problem is that each of those occasions is typically right before I’m about to go riding in the rain, so, you know, not an optimal time for doing something about it.

In this case, it all worked out just about perfectly. I got through the ride, and I was wet, but not drenched. I simply changed out the the damp into the dry and went on with my day. But now it was going on with a day in which I got to ride.

Hindsight with Clarity

A few weeks ago I had the brief opportunity to take a ride on the Withlacoochee Trail in central-ish Florida. I live, shall we say, slightly north of Florida, and so instead of riding my faithful Catrike Expedition I rented. My rental ride was a HP Velotechnik Gekko in a bright yellow/green.

I really like my Catrikes, but my experience with other makes is extremely limited - my first trike was a Pocket, and while I’ve been cycling most of my life, that’s the Pocket was the only recumbent trike I’d ridden, and I’d bought it without a test ride from a man on the internet (on eBay). I did get a chance to ride an Expedition before buying one, briefly, at the bike expo in Milwaukee, but that was honestly just to be sure I liked the additional size. I was already hooked at that point.

So the Gekko was somewhat of a new experience for me. I described most of the details about that experience in the Withlacoochee trail post, but there was something I noticed about the Gekko that I left out of that post.

I was in a hurry to get riding on the day that I went out in Florida, so aside from a quick look over to familiarize myself with the location of the controls and the in-seat storage, I decided I’d have to learn anything else about the trike on the go.

The thing that stood out the most was how startlingly clear the view to the rear of the trike was.

The mirror on the Gekko is a teardrop-shaped, heavy-duty affair that gives the impression of durability and quality. It also seemed extremely stable and vibration free.

My Catrikes, like most, have the round Mirrycle mirrors on them. These are small, inexpensive mirrors that do give a view of the activity to the rear, but they are extremely subject to sympathetic vibration with road imperfections. This can be controlled for to some degree by removing the vertical section of the mounting system, which I did on my Pocket. However, that seems to be less of an option on the Expedition, as the position of the mounting post and the fenders make things a little more intimate on that machine. Even with that change, tho, the improvement is incremental - the vibration is reduced, but not gone. This means that you can see things coming up behind you, but details are not available - it’s hard to tell a car from a truck from a wildebeest (big wildebeest problem here on the roads of Northern Illinois, don’t ya know...).

And that was the difference here. While there wasn’t any worry about motor vehicles approaching from the rear - the Withlacoochee is a recreational trail - I was still surprised at how well I could see riders approaching from behind, for example, or the receding image of people that I passed. The difference was stark.

Stark enough that I asked the very helpful woman at Trailside Cycles about the mirror. She went out to look at the trike, and indicated to me that it was a HP Velotechnik mirror (which made sense at the time - more on that below). She also had one in stock.

I asked if she thought it could be mounted on a Catrike and she thought it could, pointing out that it mounts to the head tube.

The price on the package - $69.50 - was not insubstantial, particularly compared with what I was accustomed to spending on Mirrycle mirrors, which can be ordered from Amazon for less than $13. I gave thought to taking a picture of the package and looking it up online later - this is often a fairly decent strategy for saving a bit of cash on a purchase. However, I am loathe to do that to a small business in general (but hey, suck it Wal-Mart!), and the folks at Trailside Bike had been very kind and accommodating to me, so I thought it only fair to buy it from them. In deference to the price, however, I bought just the left side mirror.

As is often the case, it took me a while to get to mounting it to the trike. In this case the primary impediment was that the bolt that came with the mirror - as well as the one already in the head tube - was too short. I didn’t have a longer one at home, so it had to wait until I could make it down to my localest bike shop.

I was a little concerned that what looked so clear and vibration free on a Florida trail might not contend quite as well with the weather-challenged byways of rural Illinois. Since the new mirror mounts to the head tube, and the Mirrycle mirror is mounted to the accessory bar, I left the old mirror on so I could do a direct comparison.

Yeah - it’s better, even in Illinois.

The Mirrycle’s are convex mirrors, which adds a wide field of view, but makes everything in the mirror smaller (objects in mirror may be...). By contrast, the flat display on the HP mirror provides for a larger picture, and while it does have a reduced field of vision, what it offers is more than sufficient to see the road behind.

While that’s good, the more vital detail is that it is stable - virtually vibration free, even on the Northern Illinois asphalt. This leads to a clear picture of what is approaching from behind, which can be more important than you might think. Wildebeests aside, the whole idea of a mirror is that you can glance into it periodically to see if something is coming. The small, unclear image in the old mirror would sometimes appear to render immovable objects - trees over a hill, for example - as things approaching from the distance. Sorting that out sometimes takes extended viewing and processing time, all of which is time not looking at the road ahead.

When the thing in the mirror is an actual vehicle, it’s good to know the type, at times. While I firmly believe in taking my lane, how one handles approaching farm implements is still different than what one does for automobiles.

So - in short, I like it. The price is rather dear, to be sure, and if I had just been looking at it on a website instead of having used it on the rental trike, I can just about guarantee that my cheapness gene would have won.

Which brings me around to the type of mirror, and where one can find it. It turns out that researching the mirror for this post - and for consideration of a right side mirror for myself later on (I like symmetry) - was a bit confusing. If there is a way to order it through the HP Velotechnik site I was unable to find it. Even doing a site search for "mirror" turns up nothing related to mirrors. So I looked over the package from Trailside Bike for information, and it has has two labels on it:

I started out with the larger label, and then when to the smaller one. I should have started with the smaller one. Using "HP Velotechnik Mirror" got me to Industrial Bicycles. You can also find them at Utah Trikes (of course) under "B&M Head Tube Mounted Mirror". In both cases they are slightly cheaper (by 50¢) than I paid at Trailside Bike, but shipping from the former is over $20, and for the latter is $13, so I got a pretty good deal buying it on site (makes that cheapness gene unclench just a little bit).

What oddly didn’t occur to me until later was to look up and see whether Trailside Bike had a means to order one. They do - and they’ll ship it via US Mail for as low as $5.27.

So that’s where I’ll go to get the right-side mirror if I can get that cheapness gene to unclench the rest of the way. After all, I like symmetry, and I want to be able to see the approaching wildebeests from all angles...

Riding With Rosie

One of the things that has been on the longer list of my things to do with the trike is going out more regularly with Rosie, our Australian Shepard.

This is not a new idea, of course. People have been riding with their dogs in one way or another probably since the modern safety bicycle was invented. Heck, maybe even before then...

Back in the old days, of course, people had a more laissez-faire attitude towards their companion animals. If the dog would run alongside you that was great, and if it wouldn't - if it took off or ran after others or disappeared you’d assume that it would find its way home. If it didn’t, well, it wasn’t a very good dog, then, was it?

Nowadays, as a general rule we keep our canine companions a little closer and, ideally, safer, but this does mean it can be a bit of a project. For smaller dogs you have to figure out a way to contain and carry them on your machine - there’s a delightful group on Facebook called Dogs on Trikes that provides a plethora of examples of this. For larger and more active dogs it means finding a way to attach the dog to the trike that is both safe for the dog and safe for the machine.

It’s not my first rodeo on this front. When I was younger (circa late 90’s and early oughts) we had a couple of very active dogs - one a border collie mix named Dax, the other an industrial-sized Australian Cattle Dog named Sisko. Dax was mine, while Sisko was MLW’s companion.

Each dog has its own attitude and comfort level with cycling machines. With this in mind, when I first introduced Dax to the bike (and it was an upright back then) I was very cautious. I walked him over to sit near the bike, and I petted him. Then I moved the bike back and forth a bit by him, and I petted him. I rolled it by and leaned it in towards him and...

...and he gave me a look that I swear said "Dude! What I see here is: I can run as fast as I want, for as long as I want. Is that right? Then let’s stop messing around and get going!"

(If you’ve lived with a herding dog you have probably seen a look like this before.)

So I hooked him up and we went. It was magic - he took to it like he’d been born to do exactly that. He was so eager, in fact, that I’d have to watch carefully to catch his energy flagging, and periodically make sure he wasn’t overheating, because he wouldn’t slow down unless I did. We rode together for years.

Rosie is an Australian Shepard mix, with a similar personality type and energy level, though thankfully a little more subdued than Dax was (he was well matched to a young man in his late 20’s and early 30’s, but I’m slightly more seasoned now). She’s always eager to come along in the car (and often seems to think she should be there, even if it’s not convenient to the moment).

When I say get out "more regularly", what I mean to say is that we’ve done it exactly once before. A little while after I got the Catrike Pocket I took her out along one of the wind turbine access roads as sort of a test-run. I wanted her away from traffic, and I wanted to be sure that she’d be able to keep herself out of the front wheels.

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That might actually be mental overkill, and I don’t think I’d ever even considered it as an issue with Dax. But the fact that she’d be running right beside the front wheel of the trike concerned me a bit with respect to the idea that she might step into that wheel. That would be a bad day for both of us (but mostly for Rosie).

I chose to go back to the same wind turbine access road, again to stay out of traffic. I had given consideration to going into town and riding around the lake, which wouldn't have been entirely traffic free, but would have been paved. Still, the access road is closer, and this was an experiment of sorts, so why not?

This is why not:

It hasn’t rained or snowed recently, but we did still have some snow on the ground, and it was a nearly 60° day, so it was... soft.

I realized this when I got there, and looked at it all for a long while as Rosie waited in the hatch (did I mention she likes to be in the car?). But ultimately I figured I was already there, so we might as well make a go of it. After all, this was really more of an experiment of sorts - just to get out and do a practice run to make sure she would handle it ok.

I needn’t have worried.

We went slow - in part by design, to get her used to it, and in part because soft is slow - and went a little less than a mile - the distance of the access road there and back. Aside from a couple of attempts to go the wrong way - e.g. backwards - she did just great! Her response wasn’t quite as eager as Dax’s back in the day (I suspect that’s a once in a lifetime sort of thing), but she really did seem to enjoy it, and did well with it. A good time was had by all.

...And then I went home and cleaned the mud off the trike and out of the car.

Finishing February

There is just something about February.

Even though I am, and have been, a routine winter rider, over the past few years February has routinely turned up as my least active month for riding. It is tempting to blame this on the fact that it’s the shortest month, but let’s be honest - those two or three missing days aren’t the issue. It’s not like I was planning going to go out and ride the last couple of days in the month, only to suddenly discover that they weren’t there...

I think, ultimately, I have to blame the weather. Winter cycling aside, in northern Illinois, (and I think this is true for the upper Midwest in general) February is simply the least cooperative in terms of cycling friendly weather. Looking back across the calendar over the past three years or so it’s the month typically with the lowest number of rides, as well as the lowest distance. Lower distances make sense - my rides are typically shorter in the winter, as I try to make loops that keep me closer to home in case I need to call for help. But the smaller number of rides are the things that point to the weather.

As I discussed a couple of weeks ago, poor visibility conditions and freezing rain (and lightening, but that’s not much of a problem in the winter) are about the only things that will keep me off the trike. When I look back through the calendar, my usual ride days in February are missing ride events. Sometimes there are things to explain it - I missed a Sunday this February because we were traveling down to Florida, for example - but often the ride that should be there just isn’t. And that suggests something prevented me from getting out, which suggests weather.

Fortunately, if I isolate February from other months, and just compare them, it looks like the pattern is improving. The graph below shows my mileage for the past four Februaries - 2017 thru 2020:

I rode once in February 2017, three times in February of 2018, and six in both 2019 and 2020. In fairness to 2018, I also went cross country skiing on two occasions, so I did have five outings for the month. And even though the number of outings is the same for 2019 and 2020, the distance has increased.

The big change from 2017 to 2018 was the acquisition of the Catrike Pocket. I had been thinking about getting a mountain bike to better handle both gravel and snow, when it occurred to me that a trike would also be good at those surfaces (or at least much better than my Cannondale road bike), and that I’d wanted one for a very long time. And I did discover, after my two outings on the skis in 2018, that I preferred winter riding over skiing - at least on the type of snow that northern Illinois has been offering over the past several years. Those two outings in February 2018 are the last time I’ve done XC Skiing.

Admittedly, some of this is not new information - there are certainly other examples here of me discovering that: you know what? I like riding trikes! But when I look at that comparatively low number for February and start to feel a little down on myself, I find it helpful to step back and look at the bigger picture. In this case, that picture is: Yeah, February sucks, but at least it’s sucking less than it used to...

And, of course, now it’s Not February (also known as "March"), so it’s about time to go out and ride...

Withlacoochee Trail

The events of the past week found me and mine shedding the bonds of rural northern Illinois in favor of the sunnier - and mostly warmer - embrace of central Florida.

This was a family trip, and as such was primarily centered around what you’d expect of a trip to the Orlando area. While we aren’t, as a rule, fans of the corporate mouse, we do all enjoy the creations of George Lucas and of Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and crew; and there is a significant subset of the family partial to the Potter that is Harry. But all that being the case, it seemed like there should be some opportunity in the week to squeeze in a ride.

Several years ago I’d realized, in part by chance, that there are often places in well established communities that will rent you a bike if you are looking for a ride and did not happen to bring one along. That first opportunity was in Arizona - Scottsdale, specifically - and was prior to my triking days. But I figured since I was heading to the homeland of Catrike there was a fairly good chance that I could find someone to rent a trike once I got there.

We drove for this trip (in fact, we are on the way back as I started writing this post, tapping away in the passenger seat as LB pilots the Mobile Trike Garage), so I did consider the option of simply taking my Expedition along for the trip. The Outback handles the trike just fine on the roof, and I could have pulled off the seat mesh and bags to improve mileage on the drive. But I was less concerned about getting it to and from, and more with what to do with it during. This was a week-long trip, and the riding was incidental. I love my trike, but they are somewhat cumbersome. I wasn’t sure if we’d have space for it in the room at the resort, and I didn’t want to leave it exposed on the roof for the week. I suppose I could have stored it in the car when we weren’t using it, but I suspect that would have involved a lot of moving it back and forth like, say, every time we wanted to carry people the car.

So: Rental.

I tapped into the Recumbent Trikes Group on Facebook for thoughts on places to try, and helpfully got a couple of options. I went with Trailside Bikes in Floral City because it is right beside - and I mean literally right beside - the Withlacoochee Trail, and also because Trailside Bikes did not require a deposit. They also did not take reservations, so I was taking a chance that they wouldn't have anything for me. I timed my arrival to just before the shop opened and crossed my fingers.

The trail was about an hour and a half from where we were staying in Kissimmee, and the route the map gave me was almost entirely two-lane roadways. I quickly began to realize that absolutely no one in Central Florida appears to be in much of a hurry to get anywhere. Fortunately, things did move along at something approximating the speed limit, and I got to the shop a couple of minutes before opening time.

The shop was already open, getting things set up for the day, and there was already a line for rentals (three groups, including me) - and this was a Tuesday morning!

Trailside was very much like any small bike shop, making it familiar territory, with the exception that it was literally full of trikes. Catrike, HP Velotechnik, Ice, were represented in the shop, as were a couple of other brands.

The rental group was small, but with some choices - the gentleman ahead of me, for example, was specific about wanting to rent a full suspension trike and wanted an ICE, which wasn’t available for rental, but chose an HP Scorpion FS instead.

I was offered an HP Gekko. There were other models to choose from, and it was clear I could have asked for something else, but I was looking forward for the opportunity to try something different from my usual.

Once selected, there was a brief set-up - mostly sizing - that I was assisted with, and I was ready to go. I had brought along my SPD sandals in anticipation of needing them, but all of the rental units were set up with flat, heel-sling supported pedals. I am certain someone out there will know what specific model of pedals these are:

While it wasn’t what I expected, it immediately made sense to me. If you are renting trikes, you can’t count on the average, curious weekend or vacation explorer bringing along foot retention. The pedals lacked the top of the foot retention that I use on my Expedition, so you only get to push, not pull. All-in-all, though, it seemed a reasonable compromise for a rental.

Renting also meant that I didn’t have mounting points for my phone (for ride tracking), nor were there pannier bags and such. However, many trike models, if not all, typically have some sort of storage built into the seat. On the Gekko, it turns out, there is a zipper pocket right at the top of the seat, and it was more than large enough for my phone, wallet, and keys.

The Withlacoochee Trail

Once I was all set up I hit the trail, which is, as previously mentioned and as implied by the name on the sign, quite literally right beside the the shop.

My time on the trail was limited - I was squeezing this ride in ahead of going to see the Star Wars exhibit at Disney Hollywood Studios, and I needed to get in, and get back, by noon. Ultimately this gave me just over 50 minutes and 12 miles of experience with the trail itself. In order to keep myself cognizant of the time without my phone easily accessible I set a timer for the halfway point in terms of total time, and wore a single Apple AirPod Pro so I’d be sure to be able to hear it when it went off. Yes, I hear you saying, a watch would have been a simpler solution, but I don’t own one. Also, I was more concerned about getting lost in the enjoyment of the ride and forgetting to check the time. I probably would have set the timer even if I’d had the phone mounted in front of me.

I started out riding south of Trailside Bikes for a little over five miles. This direction, as indicated by the helpful folks in the shop, was more rural, while the northerly course was through more settled area. The trail itself was asphalt, and in excellent condition (a very different experience from the asphalt trails - or roads, for that matter - in Illinois). The Withlacoochee is a rail-trail, so it bears the familiar signs of that type of setup - it is flat (although, so is most of Florida), and runs mostly in a fairly straight line. It’s separated from the roadway, and has vegetation barriers on each side, giving it a somewhat isolated (in a pleasant fashion) feel.

The vegetation is, of course, Floridian in nature, with Spanish moss in the trees, and other items of a rather tropical nature...

The sign for the trail indicates there are no horses allowed on the pavement. There is a grass strip down each side of the trail, however, which would imply that equestrian use _is_ allowed along that portion of the trail. I did not encounter any horses on the trail itself, but I was treated to this sight along the way:

My alarm went off just a little past the five mile mark, so I turned around and headed back. Looking at the map, this meant that, while I was in a fairly rural area, I didn’t reach the Withlacoochee State Forest, nor had I come across the portion where the trail runs along the Withlacoochee River. This was ok, and consistent with what I had expected, given my limited time. Still, if a future opportunity presented itself, I think I’d set things up to ride further to the south.

When I got back to the starting point, however, I found that I still had a little bit of time to work with - I was riding pretty vigorously, trying to make the most of the workout opportunity. So I set another, shorter timer and rode about a mile or so to the north of Trailside Bikes.

This area was more settled, and in fact there were a few businesses along the way:

In addition to the Fruit Stand there were a couple of taverns just off the trail with varying levels of entryway from the trail to the parking lot. If one were taking the time to ride the entire trail one could probably find a stopping point for some lunch and a beer.

This was an active trail. As I noted above, I was riding on a Tuesday morning, and there were multiple cyclists on the trail, as well as the occasional walker and/or jogger. Most were pleasant and returned a wave or a "good morning". Especially fun and interesting for me was the one thing, aside from the vegetation, that made it clear that I was in Florida: the sheer number of trike riders I encountered.

Some of this was to be expected, given that there were folks renting ahead of me, and I did encounter those folks. However, I also came across at least a half-dozen other people out on their trikes on this lovely morning.

This is a special delight for me, given the number of trikes I typically encounter when riding in rural northern Illinois (for those playing at home the number you are looking for rhymes with "Nero"...).

All in all it was a good ride, and a pleasant trail. It’s a little away from the Orlando area, but worth fitting in to a family trip. To be clear, a look at Google Maps with the bike trail settings turned on will show many bike routes available closer by Orlando. However, none of these are nearly as long, and most, if not all, seem to have an urban or suburban orientation, with several running at least part of the time on City streets. Good enough for exercise, but not what I’m looking for from a trail. Plus: Bike rental appears to surprisingly limited in the Orlando area, and trike rental even more so. Having a shop renting right on the trail is a major bonus. If you are going to be in the region and want to ride, I’d suggest checking it out.

The Gekko

My steed for this brief journey was an HP Velotechnik Gekko - I believe with a 26" rear wheel. My usual ride is now a Catrike Expedition, and previously a Catrike Pocket, so those are what I have to compare the experience to.

The Gekko seems to sit a little higher than the Catrikes, though not to a disorienting degree. The spec sheet on HP’s website indicates it’s about two pounds heavier than the Expedition, but given that it was bare - no rack or bags or cargo of any kind - I suspect it was comparable to my Expedition as it is currently kitted out. The Gekko has grip shifters instead of bar-ends, which was a nice change - I had them on the Pocket, and miss them a bit on the Expedition, though I’ve since adjusted.

Overall, it was a very familiar experience. I was cautioned to stay out of the little ring when it was being set up (I suspect to avoid dropping the chain), which was not a problem on the flat trail. It spooled up quickly and was a comfortable machine. I did find myself leaning in to turns more, I think as an artifact of the increased ride height. This was a felt need - at no point did the trike tip. Speed was good - my average speed for the ride was 14.42 mph over 12.31 miles, and my top speed was 26.31 mph. These are good numbers for me, and comparable to my summer speeds over... similar terrain. I say similar here because I don’t often ride trails, and those in my area are neither as smooth or as flat as the section of the Withlacoochee Trail that I rode. People think Illinois is flat, but Florida could teach Illinois a thing or two on that topic... in any case, the trail conditions abetted higher speeds.

Probably the only area of noticeable difference was the steering. Catrikes have direct steering, while the Gekko has indirect steering. This seemed to allow for a tighter turning circle, which I appreciated when I did need to turn around. Otherwise, it also seemed a bit more disconnected and less immediate, and on occasions where I had to take my hands off the handlebars while moving, it shook a bit in a fashion that doesn’t happen on my Catrikes. I don’t know if this was an artifact of this particular trike (maybe something was a little loose) or more broadly due to the type of steering, since I’ve never ridden an indirect steering trike before. However, I found the difference to be minor. Overall, I was glad to have the experience - the relative paucity of trikes in my area limits opportunity.

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And that was my Florida ride. People sometimes bemoan returning from winter vacation to the cold northlands. For myself I’d normally write here about how I enjoy winter - and I do - but it’s 43° here in Northern Illinois now, working its way up to a high of 51° (F). We had a beautiful week during most of our stay in Florida - highs in the 70’s and 80’s, including the day of my ride - but our last two days were in the 40’s, so coming home wasn’t much of a transition at all.

And - of course - a high in the low 50’s along with sunshine means today is a great day to ride...

Which Conditions?

When the topic of winter cycling is broached on a social media group, one of the more common questions is about which conditions keep the winter rider at home.

This is one of mine:

In case it doesn’t read clearly in the picture, what I’m trying to show here is rain.

In February. In Northern Illinois.

I don’t really love riding in the rain, even in summer, but February rain means freezing rain.

It’s a general understanding for people who are active outside year-round that there is no bad weather, only bad clothing. This is a testament I generally adhere to, and certainly it’s possible to dress against freezing rain.

But one cannot dress against road conditions, nor against visibility. And in terms of the latter, I’m not concerned about my own, but about that of the motor vehicle operators on the road. It’s better to be able to be seen, and to not be in conditions where the large metal objects struggle to arrest their speed.

And so today, on the couch I remain...