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On today’s ride I broke a spoke. It wasn’t a big deal, everything worked out after I wrestled it away from the rest of the machinery. Here it is at home, after I eased my way home:
Mass and wear are the most likely culprits. My mass wore it out. So I’ll get that fixed tomorrow. Before all of that, according to my app, I hit 45.6 miles per hour. I assure you that was going downhill, so score one more for mass.
We had a 26-mile ride today. I forgot to take pictures:
So that’s the front fork of the bike in the house. Anyway, four categorized climbs, and I descended at 41.9 miles per hour.
I forgot to take pictures because I snuck off the front of the group in the first neighborhood. There are two stop signs through there and I figured someone would come catch me at the second one, at least, given that it has a weird little climb involved. But when I got there, I was still alone, and then I caught a break with oncoming traffic at the next two intersections.
By then I was off the front and apparently out of sight. I figured on some of those climbs someone would catch up, but it turns out most of them had forgotten about me. I rode the entire ride out front and by myself and made it back to the starting point all alone. I’m seldom ever strong enough for a good breakaway, but I guess the timing was right and the makeup of the group was all wrong to catch me. It was a great feeling. I’ll coast on that feeling for a good while, I’m sure.
I helped install one of these today:
Sadly it was in a classroom and not in our house. But it’ll look great in the class nevertheless. Except for the fingerprint smudges I left on it. That might sound passive-aggressive, but smudges can be cleaned, so don’t think of it that way, OK?
On our bike ride this evening:
We’ve been this way a few times now and I like this site. You hang a right and then you have the corn on your left. You go up the hill, take a big curve and a punchy little roller and then a long straight up to stop sign that means you’re almost done. It is a nice four miles and 15 minutes.
Here’s the next leg in that final stretch, where The Yankee and Stephen are pacing me home:
I think this should be a thing: Where were you the last time you heard The BoDeans?
Because you never forget Closer to Free. (Or most any of the rest of their catalog, really.)
On the loading dock today was this large canvas roller. These things intrigue me to no end, even as I know I will likely never have a real use for them myself. But that’s the way of it. Great logo, too:
Dandux is a product of C.R. Daniels, Inc. That company started out in New York City, but was purchased by the Trumpbour brothers soon after, in 1920. They moved to New Jersey, and now also have two custom facilities in Tennessee and Maryland, where this particular roller was produced. The second generation Trumpbour men at Daniels have passed away in recent years and you can find their obits online. They both had military service, which continues a long tradition in their family. Apparently eight of their Trumpbour ancestors fought in the Revolutionary War.
Favorite tidbit, Edward Trumpbour Jr. did not suffer mediocrity, “or as he would say ‘Meatballs.'”
Let’s find out about those 18th century Trumpbours … seems they were of Dutch descent. And at least some of them were enlisted in New York’s Ulster regiments as Tories. Two of the men from that era died in Canada in the 1800s, which is where a lot of Loyalists found themselves during and after the Revolution. Maybe we’re too far removed, in the sense of family history, to talk about the brother-against-brother aspect of that war, but here, it seems, we might have an example of it.
Anyway, their great-great-great-and-so-on grandchildren are still here.
We rode our bikes, where I thought nothing of Trumpbours or ducks or canvas or any other thing. If you chase fast people like The Yankee you don’t have time to think:
I took a bunch of pictures of her on this stretch of the bike ride, one of the few places I could pull alongside. But she kept outrunning my focus, which was weird. She wasn’t approaching the speed of light, but she was somehow defeating it nevertheless.
I did improve on a half-mile climb by four seconds. The cycling app says I presently have the third-fastest time up that climb for the year, which can only mean that most people don’t ride all the way down to the boat ramp and then back up. There’s no way my pitifully slow time should be on a leaderboard.
If you get that deal at your grocery store where, when you buy groceries you add up points toward a gas discount, do it:
Our fortunes from dinner tonight. One of these was mine, but you’ll have to guess:
From a weekend 30-mile bike ride:
We pet-sat yesterday afternoon. He’ll be much bigger by the next time we see him:
If you need us, Allie and I are busy watching the Tour:
