The ride up to the Oregon Trail interpretive center was marred by the cacophony of aid cars zooming past.  Rumor was a rider had been grazed by an RV.  (RVs scare me.  When I rode the coast a few years ago, I was far more worried about RV owners - often leased vehicles being operated by someone with age-induced sensory loss - than logging trucks.   Loggers know what they’re doing.)   Ahem.  I don’t remember much else about the route other than there was one significant climb whose significant descent led us into the town of Halfway.  I was surprised how uncomfortable some people were in going downhill, without braking.  The landscape of Halfway was pretty:

Because camping was at the school, the main festivities — stage, “beer garden,” Hot Lips’ Pizza (and their delicious fruity sodas) — were located a half-mile away in the cordoned off area downtown.  In anticipation of a long Day 4, I went to bed early.

Trust me!

Day 4: Hells Canyon Dam - Today was an optional rest day.  Several people peeked ahead to Day 5 and chose to spend time in the bucolic town of Halfway.  For overachievers (ooh- pick me, pick me!), there was an opportunity for out-and-back trip to Hells Canyon dam.

The first ten miles was a screaming downhill.  At the bottom, Professional Geocacher Seal Rock George, aka Chuck, aka “Sag 4,” was finishing his first geocache for the day.  I made a grab of the same.  The road following the Snake River was a constant up, down, turn left, turn right, hairpin.  Views were stellar as the sun was to our backs.  Just before Oxbow, I made an off-road venture to a cache that had recently appeared in the Oxbow Dam area.  As I was climbing the steeeeeep ridge, I kept thinking about how sore I was going to be at the end of the day.   The cache was buried among some quartz.  I was the first to find this particular one.  My first FTF!  The climb back up the same ridge seemed a lot easier.

This is so much better than sitting in meetings!

Lunch was being hosted by the park along the bridge at around mile 25, e.g., crossed very early in the day.  The intent is we’d revisit this spot on the way back, ideally by 3pm when lunch officially closed.  The dam was an interesting structure.  After I’d pulled over to take photos, the PA system came on: “This is Idaho Power.  Parking is not permitted on the dam.  Please leave the area immediately.” Awesome!

Parking is not permitted on the dam. Karaoke is fine, though!

The least-accessible geocache (only one way in) was at the “Heaven’s Gate” recreational area north of the dam.  Getting that one kept me motivated to do the entire ride, by which point I was already committed, figuratively speaking.

On the way back, I stopped at Big Bar to look at the historical markers commemorating an orchard that used to be located there.  While I was pushing my bike out, I saw my tires were covered by goatheads.  I flipped the bike upside down and gingerly plucked them from the rubber.  Whew, no flats, the tire liners had saved me.  (Or so I thought, the next morning my front tire was flat.  It would repeat this stunt on the morning of day 6.  Though I searched for remaining stickles, the remedy was to replace the tire.)

Not a goathead

While mailing a bunch of post cards at Oxbow, I saw there was a cache a half-mile up a gravel road.  The actual cache was located in a quarry area that I had to climb up and around.  Sometime during my visit, I tweaked my pinky, perhaps a mild sprain.  I can bend it, but the ache and swelling has been going on for a week and a half.

Kyrie a laser? Oh, the horror!

When I got back, I was craving pizza.  On the stage area was one of the local government officials speaking.   When she was done, she introduced a nicely dressed woman who was going to sing for us.  I was not expecting karaoke.  Unfortunately, I hadn’t left before the earworm version of the Mr. Mister song “Kyrie” had thoroughly bored itself into my skull.  It haunted me as I did some laundry back in camp, only for some reason it seemed I was hearing the nonsensical “Kyrie a laser” instead of the religious “Kyrie Eleison.”

When I revisited later for more pizza, the feature band for the evening, Karoke from Hell, was setting up.  Had I not already booked a massage for 8pm, I would have probably come back to hear them play.

Day 5: Halfway to Lake Wallowa State Park - This was the hardest and bestest day of ridingest.  We started with the same ten mile downhill as yesterday, then did a 3,000′ climb along a quiet forest road.  The only traffic was Cycle Oregon related, e.g., the blue outhouse truck heading up to the lunch stop or the occasional Oregon State Trooper on his BMW motorcycle.  The climb wasn’t steep, just one of those where you have to reach the mental happy place and grind it out for a couple of hours.

The size of the group presented some drawbacks on this climb with people passing or being passed as the group spread out.  Occasionally, I’d come across someone wanting to share their pessimism about the day or hill.  If they persisted, I politely excused myself and accelerated up the hill.  No negativity is permitted today!

I was very glad they had a water stop along the way because perspiration + arid climate = consuming a 100 ounce Camelbak at a prodigious rate.  I was also getting tired of the Gleuknos energy drink, but discovered that it tasted much better if I poured in a bottle of Snapple.  Also, the bite valve of my Camelbak was leaking, leaving electrolyte residue on my bike.

After the summit, we had a brisk 400 foot drop before having to decide whether to climb another 500′ on the optional side trip to Hells Canyon’s Scenic Vista.  Theme for the ride: Optional, my ass. Seriously, I’m not going to bike all that way and not go see this thing.

Hells Canyon Overlook

One of the overlooks was, coincidentally, a newly placed geocache for which I netted my second FTF.  From here, we went down and up and down and up, accumulating nearly 7,500′ of climbing that day.  I rolled into the town of Joseph around 5:30.  Several other riders were still on the course, no doubt giving the SAG drivers lots of business.  The next morning they’d mentioned riders were coming in as late as 10:30 p.m.

I set up my tent, showered, and then noticed that it was a lot colder and later than my previous stops… because I’d gotten in later.  At 8pm, I headed over to the massage tent to have two days of muscle kinks worked out.  While waiting for my appointment, a rider was berating any Cycle Oregon volunteer who’d listen to him about getting someone to lug his bag over or “watch my $15,000 bike.”  He was a total tool, and though I wasn’t part of the conversation, I regret not calling him on his being an ass.

Handyman's special!

Day 6: Local loop of Joseph, OR and Enterprise, OR - Prior to the event, there was an email about volunteering for the “Friends of the Forest” projects going on to build bridges or rip out noxious weeds.  I hadn’t received a response to a question I sent the project manager, so I wasn’t signed up for anything.  Probably a good thing, as I was pretty tired from the previous two days’ heavy riding.

Tracker - one of several bronze statues gracing downtown Joseph

I hiked around the park in the morning, cache-ing in a couple of times before breakfast.  When it warmed up, I took a gingerly ride into town for coffee and caching.  The optional 32 mile loop had lunch in the town of Enterprise, where there was a pretty good band going on.  They also had various people selling things and kids offering “bike washes.”

Courthouse, Enterprise OR

After finding all of the geocaches in town, I headed back to the park, stopping to visit the Chief Joseph (of the Nez Perce) burial grounds.  Once again, my front tire was squishy, indicating a slow leak.  Intent on just replacing the tire (and not just the tube), I pumped it up and made it south a few miles before having to pump it up again.  For once, the Bike Gallery store wasn’t mobbed.  They put the tire on for free (I just had to buy the tire for a reasonable $35).

Old Chief Joseph grave site

The evening’s entertainment was Marv and Rindy Ross, aka “QuarterFlash.”  They did an awesome acoustic duet of “Find Another Fool” that I would looooooove to buy if it ever became available.  Some other band members joined them to play songs on the new record, Goodbye Uncle Buzz.  The setting and surroundings were an ideal night.

Day 7: Lake Wallowa State Park to Elgin, OR - It was another chilly morning, and somewhat a relief that I could just  jam everything into my oversized duffel, haul it to the baggage truck, and go on my way.  Several local vendors had set up carts in camp to sell mochas, green tea and muffins.  Since today’s route was mostly downhill for the first 40 miles, it would be enough to tide me over until “lunch.”

To warm up, I biked up the southernmost road to get One More Geocache before I left.  I propped my bike against the “no bicycles” sign and hiked the 1/2 mile to the final, a peanut butter jar tucked under the pillar of a bridge.  The only two caches in the area I didn’t try required riding the Wallowa Tram.

Lake Wallowa Monster Watch cache site

I knew this was going to be downhill most of the day, but it was still eerie being able to maintain 20+mph for the first two hours of the ride.  (Without gravitational assistance, I am much, much slower.)  Parts of this route were very scenic, and where I could, I stopped for photos.  However, I was keen to stay reasonably ahead of the main group because I was keen to finish the 6+hour drive home before sunset.

Road to Elgin: it was this point that "this is the last day" had sunk in.

At mile 43, there was a nice 1000′ climb on a moderate grade, followed by the rollers into Halfway.  There was a makeshift “tunnel” for riders to go through amidst cheering people.  As he had done in previous days, Mike Hand was offering up cartons of chocolate milk, the performance beverage favored by the most elite riders.

When I was done with that, I biked to the long-term parking lot where I found my car encased in a thick layer of Elgin dust.  Unlike several other riders, I had taken my car keys with me.  This let me stow the bike while I waited for the luggage truck to unload.  Oh, the perils of being “first bag on, last bag off!”  By now, riders were coming in faster.  The men’s shower truck had a long line, but at least it was moving quickly.  It felt good to be in civilian clothes.

I-84 Scenic Viewpoint

I drove until I was in the vicinity of Meacham, where I chose to stretch my legs and visit a string of geocaches in the area with great names like “I Hate I-84″ or scenic vistas like the one above.  There were a couple of Mystery Caches in Pendleton (e.g. Sudoku Murals) that I’d worked out earlier, but Pendleton Rodeo Days was going on, making parking iffy.  It was amusing glancing over at the moving map and seeing how many caches were near the freeway.  If I do CRoC again, I have a lot of possibilities.

So, that’s the story.  Seven days of great weather and 480-ish miles great cycling was had. Including side-trips, the days worked out roughly as follows:

Below the fold are random thoughts just so I can have some notes to reference next year.

Stuff I liked (in no particular order):

• Having Dr. Ellen Bishop of the Oregon Paleo Lands Institute accessible and explaining what we’d seen during the day was an awesome idea.  (There was also a RAW has a blurb for this each night, too.)  I wish I’d seen the multi-page packet before I’d started.
• The route.  Except for Baker City, the route was awesome.  I liked having the optional day to visit Hells Canyon.
• Road markings were the benchmark that other rides should aspire.  They used these sticky arrows that came on a spool to indicate turns.  Supplementing those were signs indicating (by the number of arrows) how imminent a turn was or a vector for approaching railroad tracks.  Occasionally, the signs would offer totally incorrect (and usually obviously so) information.  For example, one showed “Sylvia’s Espresso and Croissants, 1 mile” leading up to the Stinkiest Park Bathroom Ever, last cleaned when Bush 1 was in office.   (The “Mountain Bike Shortcut” up a very steep, non-road did trick one rider.)  At at least three spots (Baker City optional, Hells Canyon optional and one other I can’t remember right now), there was active traffic management.
• Maps, though highly unnecessary, contained a pictorial overview of the route and a scaled profile, marked with key points: campgrounds, stops, cattle grates.  On the back were turn-by-turn directions.  If you got lost on the route, you should not be allowed outside without parental supervision.
• Food, drink and potty stops were generously spaced.  If you’re a woman and/or fortysomething and have a penchant for being well-hydrated, there was never a need to go where bears go.  They serviced the blue  houses frequently, too!
• At breakfast each morning, copies of the Oregonian newspaper were available.  I tried to avoid reading too much lest I get caught up thinking about the Lehman/Morgan Stanley/WaMu/AIG financial catastrophe that was unwinding.  Hurricane Ike did affect my parents, so after I got back, I called.  (Damage: destroyed front porch, roof sheared, electricity out until the October 4th.)
• The ride is large enough to support commerce: Hot Lips Pizza, Bike Gallery (several mechanics and an entire bike store), a Ben & Jerry’s ice cream truck.  There were also a chai/tea store and a Brazilian coffee store, but the lines for both were ridiculously long in the morning.  There was also a fund-raiser to have one’s bike detailed for $40.  My bike sorely needed this by day 5,
• Music options (especially once they got past the abundant Country and Western) were interesting and optional.  Great blues group during the lunch in Enterprise.
• Friendly volunteers.  Many communities had people volunteering (usually as part of a fund raiser) to serve meals.  Bags could be “portered” for tips, though usually by the time I found someone, I was almost all the way there.
• Other riders.  99% of the people were good about saying “on your left,” occasionally interjecting “well, barely, this hill is a doozie!”  In general, rider etiquette was far superior to most Cascade cycling events.
• The vegetarian dinners were tasty.  I did have to break with this menu when they offered delicious pulled pork barbecue at the rest stop on the last day.

Not so much:

• Lines for everything.  The queueing model seems to have been mostly thought out, because the lines moved much faster then they’d initially appear… except for the vendors who were part of this.  I would have loved to have dined in downtown Joseph, but there were so many other people with the same idea, it just kind of overwhelmed the place.  Similarly the fancy Brazilian coffee place was unapproachable.
• The camp layout was pretty sprawled, with food, shower, and luggage trucks on opposite ends of everything.  I spent a good 15-30 minutes hiking around, trying to figure out where stuff was.  When I set up in Halfway, I was happy to secure a fence on which I could hang laundry.  However, the luggage was easily a half mile away.  I generally set up camp away from the food and shower trucks (these have generators that kick on at weird hours).
• Breakfasts.  For some reason, they seemed overly monotonous and committed crimes against bacon.  Since I’m not fond of scrambled eggs, I had oatmeal and whatever random fruit available.  Lunches were generally boring.
• Feeling like I should have signed up for everything in advance.   About a month prior, I’d finally read through the stack of emails they’d sent and realized that the Cycle Oregon Massage Team was taking reservations as early as May.  The first inquiries I made were all booked up.  I lucked out in finding a person who had no email/web site and whose phone number had a typo.  (I mentioned the typo to her when I booked.)  Clearly, it’s like STP where there’s a run of people who’ve done this long enough that they know to book stuff.

If the route looks interesting, I’d do this again.

(Whew!)

Almost time for the product launch! (image by Scott Meyer)

Last year at this time, Cacade’s Ride Around Washington was leaning towards the “Ring of Fire” volcano route.   I’ve had good experiences on two of their other events, and was looking forward to riding this year’s.  In every other year, the ride has open slots through June, plenty of time to figure out my plans for the summer.  This year, it sold out January 3rd, two days after signups opened.  Great for Cascade, sucks for Jim.

I briefly looked into rolling my own route along the Pacific Coast, but self-contained touring is a lot more work than I wanted to do.  I love camping, but I don’t want to schlep bags.  So, back to the supported tours, I noticed Cycle Oregon’s route was in northeastern Oregon, an area I’d already enjoyed during the previous two Memorial Days.  One thing I was leery about was the event’s size: Cycle Oregon has over 2,000 people, ten times the ridership as RAW.  But, since their refund policy was reasonable, I staked out the date.

I hadn’t thought that much about it until the last month.  As my product launch was winding down, I was soooo looking forward to a week off from the Internets, email, phone, meetings and pre-meeting meetings. September 2nd, it was set free — free! — and my mind was on last-minute trip planning.  I must have been to REI four times for various items: a big monster duffel (because CO allots riders only one bag for everything), Dr. Bronner’s peppermint soap (end-of-day reward), micro-fleece towel (dries quicker), and so forth.  I cleaned my bike up and started packing Thursday night.

I left for Elgin Saturday, late morning, expecting I’d be able to pick up some geocaches (and get #100) along Yakima Canyon Road.  Had I been going to Pendleton, I’d have timed it fine.  Elgin is about an hour and a half past Elgin, or two-hours if you stop for gas/bio break.  I made it to long-term parking at 5pm.  We were supposed to dump our bag in front of our cars and bike to the registration point a mile away.  It’s times like this I really appreciate spandex.

With over 2,000 people milling about, registation was a bit chaotic.   It occurred to me that this event is essentially a mobile city on wheels.  As the days progressed, I appreciated how complex the logistics were.  For example, we’d more than double Elgin’s population of 1,600.  To avoid overwhelming the city’s facilities - literally - they had portable toilets and the ever-important cleaning truck follow us along the route.  (I don’t want to conjecture what the truck did with the effluent; rather, I’d marvel at the awesomeness of a clean, stocked toilet.)

Tent City: You are ... Aw, hell, I forgot where I set up my tent.

After visiting Elgin’s only geocache, I set up my tent.  To my horror, the tent was all stuck together with the seam sealant I’d applied back in April.  I spent 45 minutes slowly peeling walls apart, careful to not to rip anything.  While doing this, I was mulling over how bogus tent marketing is.  My “2-person tent” really means two hobbits or one person, some equipment, and a lot of coziness.

Day 1: Elgin, OR to Union - It was c-c-c-c-cold when I woke up.  I got dressed, packed up my stuff and wandered over to the breakfast tent.  I’m pretty sure I was on the road before 6:45am.  It warmed up nicely once the sun rose, but this was way too early to get up for such a short (46-mile) ride.  Along the route, I peeled off onto a gravel road to find a geocache in someone’s orchard.  After having a nice conversation with one of the locals riding horseback with his son, I tried to find the cache, but instead ended up with these little prickly spores all over my woolen shirt.  It took several minutes to pull all of these things off.  My 34-day streak of finding caches was now over.  But, look, the pretty:

Upon arrival in Union, I was greeted by clapping and cheering people.  Some young kids wanted high-fives.  It was kind of fun, kind of surreal.  There wasn’t much else going on in town, so I hung around in camp, planning out my geocaches for the rest of the week.  I also, wisely, made my post-day5 massage appointment later.

Day 2: Union, OR to Baker City - This was my longest mileage day (97) because I did the extended option and added several geocaches onto this one.  The first geocache was at Catherine Creek state park, which most people were using as their first post-breakfast potty stop.  I parked my bike behind some bushes and hiked the 1/3 mile up the hill to the cache.

Near Baker City, there was an option to go straight to camp or to do a loop to North Powder, OR, and extend the ride.  The textual description of North Powder made it sound more appealing than it actually was.  (Maybe it’s scenic in winter?)

Halfway there!

The access road to this was in pretty bad shape, with uneven filling causing irregular ba-dumps riding over it.  Some of us were reconsidering this section, but we soon hit US 30 and it smoothed out.  I picked up a few geocaches on the way to North Powder.  Unfortunately, I also wasted some time hunting for the proverbial “micro in the woods.”  A “micro” is a really tiny cache, most often used for stealthy, urban caches where an ammuntion box (or, in Boston, a blinky toy flipping the bird) might cause “undue panic.”  But when someone puts a micro in the woods, and there’s no puzzle to solve, it’s challenging without the fun.  You can also hide an ungulate in the woods.

I arrived in the campground in Baker City around 3pm, set up  my tent, showered, ate dinner, and then went back into town for three specific caches I’d scoped out before I left.  One of the most interesting caches I’d found was a nondescript memorial/cemetary for the Chinese workers.

Another cache I found centered around the historical downtown Baker City district - and specifically its post office now owned by a law firm - that’s seen revitalization in the last ten years.  The third was a puzzle cache searching digits of pi for coordinates.  I solved its puzzle, but couldn’t find a way to physically get to the location without traipsing through someone’s yard.

Baker City was the largest city we visited along the way.

]]> http://www.jimcarson.com/2008/cycle-oregon-2008-part-1/feed/ http://www.jimcarson.com/2008/dolphin-kick-ii/ http://www.jimcarson.com/2008/dolphin-kick-ii/#comments Sat, 16 Aug 2008 06:07:40 +0000 jim http://www.jimcarson.com/?p=854 Back in February, I’d mentioned how researchers were using computational fluid dynamics to understand the physics behind swimming. Though I didn’t come out and say it, my product is used in the post-processing of the results.  With the interest in Michael Phelps’ potentially achieving eight gold medals (including  a nail-biter today), there has been more coverage of Mittal’s work.

On Friday, Callie noticed that the research got a mention on NPR’s front page (link goes to the specific article), including a very familiar image:

As she said, “w00t!”

So many caches, so little time

The first one I found is known as a multi-cache - the little icon that looks like a sort of yellowish file cabinet drawer opened.  With these, you have to find one or more intermediate waypoints to end up at the final, “traditional cache” (the shoebox icon) destination nearby.   It’s not the best type of cache to try at first, but in this case I lucked out.  What made finding it memorable was how much effort its creater put into the ingenious contraption.  Externally, it looked like the ubiquitous bird house found in suburbia.  When inspected closely - not that you’d ever have any reason to do so - one might notice the bottom pulled out to reveal the Cache of Geo-Joy.

Inside the “cache” is a log to record your visit, usually in a plastic baggie to keep it try.  These can be kind of fun to page through because you get a feel for the variety and number of people participating.  Sometimes, a cache will have cheap trinkets.  Etiquette is one leaves something if they take something.  Small marketing swag is great for this, but things like Matchbox cars or plastic/rubber animals also work.  Some caches will have trackable items that one can help travel to some destination.

Caches come in a variety of sizes and types.  The first one I found was a smallish container about the size of a Noxzema canister.  Larger caches are often some form of Tupperware container or, at the high end, an ammunition box (water-tight, sturdy, and large).  There are numerous smaller ones — “micros” or “nanos” — that are about the size of a 35mm film canister (for you old farts who remember “film”).  Or even smaller.   These are often tucked into a crack in a wall, divet in tree bark, or elsehwere.  They’re very hard for me to find this early in the game.

For example, last weekend while I was on Orcas Island, I tried finding a multi-cache.  The first waypoint  was a red container no larger than my pinky tucked into divot in a tree about 35′ from a footpath.  Inside the container were the coordinates to the next waypoint that would have a set of coordinates to a larger, final cache.  Despite searching for over an hour, I couldn’t find the second waypoint.

I was surfing around and found more examples of insanely challenging ones designed to totally blend in with the environment.  For example, Tracey mentioned she placed one that’s a hollowed-out bolt, painted to match its surrounding.  There are also some magnetic ones near work that I’ve yet to find. I’m obviously not up to snuff to find these things yet. I’m saving these and the puzzle caches (ones with the question mark icon) for later. There are plenty of them.

So, a month into this, here’s what I’ve observed as the benefits:

• Geocaches are an excellent excuse to introduce people to other areas they might not frequent.  I’ve found at least two parks that I never knew existed.  For example, today I discovered a small ravine about 1/4 mile from work, wedged in between T-Mobile’s US headquarters, I-90 and another office complex.  I’ve passed this spot over 500 times without ever noticing it because the entrance is nondescript.
• It’s livening up my bike commute.  I’ve been sprinking in a cache here and there to get me out of the “rut” inherent with a geographically constrained commute.  On Monday, this had me visiting a greenbelt in Bellevue.
• My kids have an interest in the secret treasure aspect, though they’re not always willing to part with their swag in exchange for the new shiny.  Whereas I am more skilled at triangulation, they have much more patience and a willingness to dig around.

Q. If you could have any one - and only one - bike in the world, what would it be?
A. A JP Weigle Randonneur frame (painted by Sacha White of Vanilla Cycles), equipped with a Brooks saddle, hub generator (LED lights), Nitto/Bruce Gordon racks, and Berthoud/Ortlieb bags.

Q. Do you already have that coveted dream bike? If so, is it everything you hoped it would be? If not, are you working toward getting it? If you’re not working toward getting it, why not?
A. No. My current bike is fine, but there are a few things I would improve upon.  First, I’d like to be able to put on tires wider than 25C with fenders.   And not hacked up fenders, either.  Second, I’d like a 135mm dropouts, or at least a ‘tweener 132.5mm.  Wheels and hubs are cheaper for some reason.

I have been too busy riding to shop for bikes again.

Q. If you had to choose one — and only one — bike route to do every day for the rest of your life, what would it be, and why?
A. No. My commute would be mind numbingly boring if I didn’t alter the route slightly each time.

Q. What kind of sick person would force another person to ride one and only one bike ride to to do for the rest of her/his life?
A. The same one who invented the high-pitched whine of a dentist’s drill.

Q. Do you ride both road and mountain bikes? If both, which do you prefer and why? If only one or the other, why are you so narrowminded?
A. Short answer: I only have one bike.  A road bike takes me places.  Long answer: I am apparently Bad Karma when mountain biking: a couple of friends got serious injuries. I am cool to the idea of “true” mountain biking.  I would certainly consider doing something more utilitarian like the Great Divide Route that Kent Peterson rode, except over a longer period of time.  And with gears.

Q. Have you ever ridden a recumbent? If so, why? If not, describe the circumstances under which you would ride a recumbent?
A. Yes, I was ‘bent-curious and rented a Rans Stratus on my last business trip to Austin.  I didn’t like the excessively long wheelbase because of the large turning circle (though maybe you’d get used to it), but I’d certainly consider owning a ‘bent if there was a convenient way to try a variety of models and find one that works.  (The trike models are especially intriguing.)  As it stands, it’s hard enough test-riding a standard bike.

Q. Have you ever raced a triathlon? If so, have you also ever tried strangling yourself with dental floss?
A. Inadvertently - I was out on a group ride when we stumbled into the bike course of one in Kirkland. It was surreal, but I held my own.

Q. Suppose you were forced to either give up ice cream or bicycles for the rest of your life. Which would you give up, and why?
A. Ice cream.  Most ice cream available is made with high frutose corn syrup - I prefer the taste of cane sugar.  I spend 400+ hours a year on a bike, 5 hours eating ice cream. You can do the math.

Q. What is a question you think this questionnaire should have asked, but has not? Also, answer it. What size of shoes do you wear?
A. Do you wear bike shorts because they’re comfortable or because you like showing off your biker legs?  Yes.

I wear size 45s (approximately an US size 11).

Q. You’re riding your bike in the wilderness (if you’re a roadie, you’re on a road, but otherwise the surroundings are quite wilderness-like) and you see a bear. The bear sees you. What do you do?
A. African or European bear?

Case 1: consider my 15 year-old Kitchenaid top-freezer with an ice maker.  The Kitchenaid Marketing Literature says the technology has improved:

if you’re still using a refrigerator manufactured before 1993, you could save nearly $100 a year in utility bills by buying a KitchenAid built-in refrigerator.

The problem: this spectacular built-in appliance starts at $4,500, making the economic incentive a  non-starter.

Let’s look at something comparable, a 20.6 cubic foot Sears Kenmore with an ice maker, available about $30 less than I paid for my existing refrigerator in 1993.  According to the Energy Star Calculator, the annual cost of electricity for my existing refrigerator is $97.93, assuming it uses 933KWh per year.  The brand new Kenmore uses an estimated 432KWh per year, which would cost $45.34 for the electricity.  Its annual savings is $52.59.  The return on investment:

$839.99 / $52.59 savings/year = 15.97 years

And for comparison:  2008 New Refrigerator - 1993 Old Refrigerator = 15 years.

Conclusion: it’s not worth replacing until my existing refrigerator gives up the ghost. I would first try fixing my fridgeif I could find the parts at a price I was willing to pay.

Case 2: Consider the options for a more efficient car.   My 2002 Subaru Impreza station wagon has an estimated fuel economy of 19 - 25 mpg.  In practice, it’s more like 22 (city) to 30 (highway).  A 2008 Toyota Prius fares 48 (city)/45 (highway).    Let’s assume the average rating and calculate the annual cost in gasoline, using today’s price:

Prius: 5,300 miles/year / 46 miles/gallon = 115 gallons/year

Subaru: 5,300 miles/year / 22 miles/gallon (we’re being pessimistic) = 241 gallons/year

Savings = (241 g/y - 115 g/y) * $4.399/g = $553/year

If someone were to give me a Prius, I would drive it.  But as that’s not likely to happen, I’d need to buy one.  They’re in high demand, so dealers are applying ADP onto the price.  The cheapest I found (and probably sold by now) was $24,234.  On top of that would be tax (8.9%), title, license, rust undercoating, muffler bearings, digital radiator, flux capacitor and sound proofing.  Let’s just round up to $27,000.

Assuming the annual gas savings of $553 holds, it would take 47 years to break even:

$27,000 / $553/year = 48.82 years

It’s easy to consider some other assumptions:

• I get $10,000 trade-in value on my car (sold to a Hummer driver): break even is 30.7 years.
• I drove the national average of 12,000 miles per year instead of my paltry 5,300 (which is, like, five  Susan Dennis years).  Annual savings is now $1,252/year.   Break-even for scenario 1 is 21.5 years.  Break-even for the trade-in scenario is 13.58 years.
• I buy the used 2003 Prius model with 65,147 miles on it for $18,995 and sell my existing car for $10k.  At the original mileage rate, it’s 16.2 years to break even.  ($18995-$10000)/$553 = 16.26.
• Same case, but I drive the national average of 12,000 miles per year.  Breakeven is now 7.18 years.

Conclusion: it’s not worth replacing until my existing car gives up the ghost. And even then, the Prius is difficult to justify with my assumptions.  (Ted: I also tried the beauteous Honda Goldwing Touring motorcycle at 37mpg.  Any other recommendations?)   One option that makes sense is a Vespa. At about $5k new — and tricked out with leftover flame decals — it gets 75 mpg. I can take the $5k leftover and buy another couple of bicycles and a tandem.

During my travel adventures last week, I realized that the reason airlines make passengers wait in an aircraft sitting on the tarmac (versus letting us mill around the terminal until we’re really expecting to leave) is so they can officially blame air traffic control for the delay.  “Hey, we left on time, ATC delayed us [because of those pesky midwest summer thunderstorms - imagine!]” translates to “We will compensate you diddly/squat because it’s Not Our Fault.”

Anyway, I was rerouted to Hartford, CT, instead of Providence, RI.  With about 20 minutes left before my (new) flight, I canceled my rental car with Enterprise and tried to find an alternative rental as Enterprise doesn’t do point-to-point rentals.

The top half shows the default results on expedia.  On first glance, it’s easy to miss the difference between “preferred vendor view” and the other options. I did. Since there was only one result for this itinerary — Hertz — I initially overlooked the other tabs, thinking they were just different ways of sorting the result (singular).  Because the rates exceeded my perception of what I should be paying for a car for a day and a half - even if I was going to attempt driving in Boston - I began contemplating other methods — train, cab, zeppelin, whatever.  I finally “saw” the smallish white font under “Car Price View.”   That rate sheet, shown on the bottom panel, has a vendor at one half the cost. I have hard time grokking what “special customer care guarantees” Hertz could provide that would justify twice the rate of Thrifty.  I don’t know if Expedia gets a percentage of the rental fee.

The next morning, the Hartford EconoLodge dropped me off directly at the Thrifty counter.  Thrifty “upgraded” me to a Dodge Nitro. “No, really, I want the small car.” “We don’t have any.” “Uh, thanks.” It also had a portable GPS as an add-on option.  (On the mellow, pre-Boston part of the drive, I got a respectable 24.8 mpg.  From Cambridge on, driving like my life was in jeopardy, it was only 17.3 mpg.)

The last time I’d used a GPS in the car was in the late 90s. Hertz’s NeverLost system was more helpful than not, but had a disturbing tendency to be off by 100 feet at times, leading to some hilariously wrong turns.  Or, if surrounding downtown landscape mucked with the line-of-sight, it would crap itself.  Ironically, this is where I needed it the most.

The Garmin Nuvi was a huge improvement in that it never lost track of the satellites during my 450+ miles of driving.  Until Cambridge, it behaved admirably, even issuing clear instructions when navigating the abundant roundabouts: “Enter ROUND-a-BOUT.  Take THIRD exit.”  I got to my last appointment with plenty of time to spare.

But on the way to the TF Green Airport (Warwick, RI), it wigged out, sending me along a challenging labyrinth of five- and six-way intersections. I often heard this: “Turn RIGHT in 100 feet.”  I turn right.  “Recalculating.”

As I watched its routing unfold, it was clear it was taking me along the scenic route.  Thing is, there’s this road called “Interstate 95″ that would theoretically get me out of the Boston metroplex.  The GPS was adamant about finding ways to avoid this, routing me through Dedham (where the local fire department had traffic backed up until you “filled the boot”).  The last straw was its routing me down US 1 (”Providence Highway”) that crossed I-95.

The biggest problem, and one that I was unaware of until I got to the airport because (because I had given up on it by now) was its database had a completely incorrect address for the Thrifty return center.  As in: “in another town, 30+ miles from the airport.”   I mentioned this when I brought the car back. “We know.” “Well, why don’t you fix it?”  (It’s apparently a “custom point of interest.”

Perhaps, as Kevin said, the GPS thought I was Californian, and was just fucking with me.  All I know is I was getting frustrated at all the “Recalculatings.”  If the machine had any capabilities of sarcasm, I am sure it would have added colorful commentary like “Did I say THE OTHER right?“  or “Okay, I give up, WHERE are we going?”

I’m surprised one of those “let’s mess with people and film it” shows (aka “Candid Camera” or “Punk’d”) haven’t tried this as a prank:

• Make someone do a circuit around a block.
• Start randomly chatting about something irrelevant to trip directions:  “Say, that’s a nice tie you’re wearing!”
• Offer commentary on places selected “That place sucks, you don’t REALLY want to go there, do you?  I thought you were cool.”

Any other suggestions?

How to make a right turn, Boston style:

1. Maintain your poker face. Don’t slow down.  Don’t make a sideways glance.  DO NOT touch the stick on the left side of the steering column.
2. Slam on your brakes.
3. Make a w-i-i-i-d-e turn.

Entering one of the ten thousand roundabouts? Accelerate as hard as possible.  It’s a party, and everyone’s invited.

Don’t let the tourists win: change lanes constantly.  (N.B. “Lanes” are a theoretical construct.  If you believe in the magic invisible fairy lines, they’ll be there.)

If the light turns red, only five more cars are allowed through the intersection.

At least they don’t honk and gesticulate.

Unable to get an earlier flight without buying a new ticket at surprisingly exorbitant prices or spend the time camped out in the lovely hotel, I went to the Ford Museum for a few hours.  The factory is currently idle, and may be idle for a few additional weeks.  Inside is an eclectic snapshot of American culture.  There are lots of cars like the Continental Mark II and Cadillac El Dorado (even though it’s excessive, it is pretty), roadside arcana like the ubiquitous Holiday Inn sign I remember from family vacations in the 70s, furniture, Buckminster Fuller’s Dymaxion House, various examples of assembly line manufacturing, and plastic mold injection souvenir generators, each offering a different result like a figurine of Henry Ford, a 1965 Mustang, Abraham Lincoln’s Head, and the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile.

It was weird as it sounds.

After stopping for lunch, I went to the airport to hang out until my flight.   The little nook was nice and quiet until a flight attendant sat down in the area, sharing her personal, non-salacious stories of woe to a friend and everyone within earshot of her phone.

The next available power outlet was several gates later, underneath the Cone of Announcements, the focal point of overhead speakers.  Once a minute, there is a message about some passenger needing to get his sorry ass down to Gate XX.   _Or_ “heightened security.”  (Dude: when heightened is all the time, it’s no longer heightened.  It’s “Situation Normal.”)  _Or_ a reminder that smoking is prohibited.

While wandering around, I noticed the rocks in the faux trees across from Detroit Airport’s gate B-18 all have clever graffiti, mostly centered around people’s travels.

My current situation can be summarized as follows:

• I was trying to get to Rhode Island.
• I am in Connecticut.
• My clothes are in Kentucky.
• The meetings I’m attending tomorrow are in New Hampshire and Vermont.  [I went to K-Mart to buy a shirt and pair of jeans.]
• My clothes will be in Massachusetts when I return.  [Thursday 5pm Update: Not a chance.  They went to go see Young Frankenstein.]  [Friday 8am Update: Yay, we have clothes - and a shaving kit!]
  

Fasting seems to help ameliorate the symptoms of jet lag. Kroger sells cough drops in large quantities. Dunkin Donuts is everywhere, and they have a line.

I didn’t even need to ask about filing a claim on what happened to the “sturdy” case:

I’m guessing that it was run over by the same luggage cart it fell off.   The Hello Kitty bag made it through with flying plaid. I’m liking that bag more and more.  It radiates happy.