Pulled the wheel off my bike and put it in my car. The rest of the bike went in there too. If I turn the fork so it looks like the front is trying to bite a flea and it will just fit inside.

It was time for a trip to the bike shop, one close to campus. The one close to home, which is generally very good, wasn’t interested in helping me replace the shifter cover that I lost last August. After the exposed screw sliced open my finger last month it was time. Felt, the manufacturer, told me to visit a store. The store said talk to Felt. And after we shared that joke, we got down to fixing it.

The part cost $10, which is the cheapest thing on a bike, apparently. It would also make my hands, as this is close to where your hands rest 99 percent of the time. So I left the bike with them, asked for a bit of maintenance and we’d scheduled time so I wouldn’t miss a ride.

I walked it and the lady behind the desk was sizing me up the way an expert tailor can tell your size without a tape measure. She sized me up and, I’m sure, found me lacking. It was like I’d told the tailor I wear one size and he glanced at me and said “No.”

With her glance she wondered about my bike set up. My seat is high. My legs are short. But, she concluded, what works for you works for you. She asked if I liked Felt. I was half-ready for her to tell me it was too much bike for me.

Later I was returning calls and found myself talking with a lady who was perfectly happy to be on the phone.
Happy to chat, happy to help. But she was making me late. There was a field trip to take with my class and timing is everything.

This is the introductory class, where we try to show off as many different parts of the business as possible. Today’s trip was to al.com where I worked from 2004 through 2008. Many of the same faces are still there. I saw three sales people, a designer and a producer I knew. The CEO and the office manager were there too. It was nice to catch up for a bit. Good people there.

We sat in the conference room and the guy that runs the content side of the place talked about what they do, the future, the past, internships and first jobs. The students asked good questions. Cards were distributed. The importance of networking was discussed. They crammed a lot of material in 90 minutes.

Some time back Bill Strickland introduced me to Graeme Obree. Tonight I stumbled onto The Flying Scotsman, a movie about the man, on Netflix.

Here’s the gist: He’s a Scottish cyclist who, in the 90s, set out to break the one-hour distance record. He built a bike from scratch, using parts of his washing machine, basically redesigning cycling all by himself. Only he just missed the record.
So the next day, after waking up all night to stretch his legs, he tried again. And he broke the record. It fell the next week to another racer. He took the mark back again soon after. Along the way he battled the sport’s governing body and his own deeply troubling demons.

Despite this trailer, the story (and the movie) make a compelling tale.

Obree, who did some of the cycling for the film, seemed to like it:

Once you get beyond this being, in part, about going in a circle, it is a good sports movie with a great supporting cast.

And then there’s the record itself:

This guy has held the record since 2005. In 2008 a doping suspension forced him into retirement.

Obree, who insists he’s never doped, is apparently preparing for a human powered land speed record. He wants to break 100 miles per hour. I’ve never even driven my car that fast.