It's a little known fact that May 12-16 is National Bike-to-Work Week. In fact, I didn't even realize this until after I'd biked here today. I'll do my duty as a cycling evangelist and encourage everyone with a manageable commute to get out the old bike just once this week. Good for you, good for traffic, good for the environment.
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My shoe broke this morning. Most people don't realize that I have special cycling shoes that clip in to and attach to the special pedals. They make me go a little faster and keep me under control. Also, they make it very difficult to disengage from the bicycle after you get hit by a truck. It's a small price to pay for an extra mile-an-hour.
The cleats attach to the shoe by three adjustable screws. Maintenance isn't much; you've just got to check the screws occasionally to make sure they don't loosen or fall out. I apparently don't do that as much as I should. So today, about four miles in to my fourteen mile commute, I noticed that I was having all sorts of trouble clipping into the pedals.
I pulled off to investigate and found that my left cleat was dangling there - the screws were barely intact. Pedaling clipped pedals without the cleats is disastrously impossible; then again, I was in no-man's land; and was strangely without my Allen wrenches. I have no idea why I took them out of my bag, but this post will be given the "I am an idiot" label.
I had to try something new. I rode the last ten miles of the trip basically with one foot - this is possible if you're clipped into the pedals. However, the one-footed method makes it tough to maintain a speed, use a high gear, or move with any sort of urgency. Still, I had to one-leg it through farmland, in traffic, and down a very familiar section of road.
That's where the German Shepherd appeared. It was like he sensed that this was my moment of weakness; today he would get me. I gave everything I had with my right leg; my left leg was left dangling in the wind like a sort of doggy treat. He could practically taste it.
He was going to catch me; that much was inevitable. Then something unexpected happen. He barked a few times and then maintained an angry dog jog right alongside me. Never bit, never snarled; really, all he wanted to do was run with me.
In the chaos of everything that were these moments, I realized something: I'm not scared anymore.
I'd like to see that truck try to hit me now. I'm hitting back.
Showing posts with label A Zoo of a Post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Zoo of a Post. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
Today on My Bicycle
Same dog. Same place. Same result.
There are three dogs that give chase every time I commute to work. One is a little Yorkshire Terrier; cute as a button, can't keep up for 20 yards. Another one is a mutt of some sort; the first time he chased me, he had a dead bird in his mouth. He tires easily.
But this German Shepherd - he's the real deal. I think he and I would be friends, seriously. We'd race for a while. I think I'd wear him out eventually, and then we'd stop and get a pizza. But he's stuck behind that invisible fence. Poor guy.
There are three dogs that give chase every time I commute to work. One is a little Yorkshire Terrier; cute as a button, can't keep up for 20 yards. Another one is a mutt of some sort; the first time he chased me, he had a dead bird in his mouth. He tires easily.
But this German Shepherd - he's the real deal. I think he and I would be friends, seriously. We'd race for a while. I think I'd wear him out eventually, and then we'd stop and get a pizza. But he's stuck behind that invisible fence. Poor guy.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Dogs Are Fast
Every time I wake up in the morning, I hope for just one interesting thing to happen during the course of a day. And so, when you witness a truly spectacular display of bovine flatulence, a part of you has to assume that that's as good as it's going to get.
I hadn't traveled too far from the scene of the tremendous toot when this next thing happened.
My cycling speed had diminished significantly on account of the fact that I was laughing uncontrollably about the fantastic fart. I'm almost embarrassed to admit just how funny poots are to me, even at 24. Almost.
I was enjoying my not-so-brief chuckle when a very angry dog emerged from the trees and gave chase. The thing had clearly been driven crazy by the ferocious flatulence of only a few moments earlier.
I've been chased by dogs before. Dogs usually aren't such a big deal. But this dog was a good-sized German Shepherd, and it was obvious that he had spent the offseason training with the fellows at BALCO. This dog was not named something cute like Fuzzy or Jake or Emmanuel. This dog was named something like Mike Tyson's Dark Side.
The thing was barking and barking and nipping at my tires. I started to push it and watched as I climbed up toward 28 mph. The thing was matching me, stride for stride. It was like one of those evil dogs from Lady in the Water.
Finally, the poor guy reached the extremities of what his invisible fence would allow. I watched as the animal yelped mournfully and jerked backwards into safety. The violence of that moment was actually heart-wrenching. In the matter of a painful second, the animal went from being a fierce competitor, to a defeated, hurting prisoner.
Maybe next time crazy, roid-raging dog.
I hadn't traveled too far from the scene of the tremendous toot when this next thing happened.
My cycling speed had diminished significantly on account of the fact that I was laughing uncontrollably about the fantastic fart. I'm almost embarrassed to admit just how funny poots are to me, even at 24. Almost.
I was enjoying my not-so-brief chuckle when a very angry dog emerged from the trees and gave chase. The thing had clearly been driven crazy by the ferocious flatulence of only a few moments earlier.
I've been chased by dogs before. Dogs usually aren't such a big deal. But this dog was a good-sized German Shepherd, and it was obvious that he had spent the offseason training with the fellows at BALCO. This dog was not named something cute like Fuzzy or Jake or Emmanuel. This dog was named something like Mike Tyson's Dark Side.
The thing was barking and barking and nipping at my tires. I started to push it and watched as I climbed up toward 28 mph. The thing was matching me, stride for stride. It was like one of those evil dogs from Lady in the Water.
Finally, the poor guy reached the extremities of what his invisible fence would allow. I watched as the animal yelped mournfully and jerked backwards into safety. The violence of that moment was actually heart-wrenching. In the matter of a painful second, the animal went from being a fierce competitor, to a defeated, hurting prisoner.
Maybe next time crazy, roid-raging dog.
I Don't Know What Cows Eat...
...but whatever it is, it makes their flatulence otherworldly. I mean - good gravy - I heard a cow fart from 100 yards. It was violent and noisy and gross and when it was done, the other cows mooed in disapproval; as if to say, "C'mon dude, we're right here. Seriously, go elsewhere with that business."
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Updated: I had no idea that this theory existed, but after today you can call me a borderline believer. The site claims that cow farts do 23 times more damage to the environment than cars do.
Hat tip to Dan & Nancy.
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Updated: I had no idea that this theory existed, but after today you can call me a borderline believer. The site claims that cow farts do 23 times more damage to the environment than cars do.
Hat tip to Dan & Nancy.
Monday, April 21, 2008
I Know You Don't Care About My Cycling Stories...
...but yesterday, I was chased by a baby goat.
I woke up before the sun, ate a quick breakfast, then left with a sunrise that may have cleared the horizon, but never cleared the clouds. It was actually quite chilly, and I was certainly underdressed for the weather. The traffic was almost as light as the rain - I saw a half-dozen cars, and felt as many raindrops.
It was the kind of intermittent rain that doesn't really get you wet, but makes sure you know that it could if it so chose. There was tremendous impetus to move quickly; to beat the storm that never came. I pushed harder than I would have liked.
I was in a mental zone, focusing only a few yards in front of my tire. That, coupled with my morning sleepiness, made me safely oblivious to much of my surroundings. This was okay - the landscape around me was dreary and hazy, and there wasn't much to look at anyway. I coasted a few miles like this, unbothered by traffic or anything.
Then a thing happened to break my moment of zen. I heard a very close, yet very small noise that sounded nothing like a drunk man arguing about NASCAR. I looked down and there was a clumsy baby goat, attempting to run with me.
It was apparent to me that the thing wouldn't be able to keep up. He was too little, and he clearly had no idea how his four legs were meant to work together. I slowed significantly to indulge the little guy. He was determined to move in a straight line, but his legs were all working furiously in different directions. Twice, this caused him to fall completely. It was like watching the 2008 New York Knicks, except that this little goat was cute in exactly the way that Zach Randolph isn't.
Finally, I had to leave the little guy behind. It was a Sunday, and we couldn't postpone church for a clumsy goat. He chased valiantly as I built my cadence - it was certainly the cutest pursuit I've ever been a part of. At last, his limbs confused themselves and he tumbled into an awkward somersault before collapsing in a heap of tired goat.
Maybe next time, baby goat.
I woke up before the sun, ate a quick breakfast, then left with a sunrise that may have cleared the horizon, but never cleared the clouds. It was actually quite chilly, and I was certainly underdressed for the weather. The traffic was almost as light as the rain - I saw a half-dozen cars, and felt as many raindrops.
It was the kind of intermittent rain that doesn't really get you wet, but makes sure you know that it could if it so chose. There was tremendous impetus to move quickly; to beat the storm that never came. I pushed harder than I would have liked.
I was in a mental zone, focusing only a few yards in front of my tire. That, coupled with my morning sleepiness, made me safely oblivious to much of my surroundings. This was okay - the landscape around me was dreary and hazy, and there wasn't much to look at anyway. I coasted a few miles like this, unbothered by traffic or anything.
Then a thing happened to break my moment of zen. I heard a very close, yet very small noise that sounded nothing like a drunk man arguing about NASCAR. I looked down and there was a clumsy baby goat, attempting to run with me.
It was apparent to me that the thing wouldn't be able to keep up. He was too little, and he clearly had no idea how his four legs were meant to work together. I slowed significantly to indulge the little guy. He was determined to move in a straight line, but his legs were all working furiously in different directions. Twice, this caused him to fall completely. It was like watching the 2008 New York Knicks, except that this little goat was cute in exactly the way that Zach Randolph isn't.
Finally, I had to leave the little guy behind. It was a Sunday, and we couldn't postpone church for a clumsy goat. He chased valiantly as I built my cadence - it was certainly the cutest pursuit I've ever been a part of. At last, his limbs confused themselves and he tumbled into an awkward somersault before collapsing in a heap of tired goat.
Maybe next time, baby goat.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Springing Forward Together
I remembered to set my clocks forward. For several hours, AT&T Wireless did not.
Until recently, Indiana has failed to observe Daylight Savings Time. Once Indiana made the switch, it became something of an event, for some people. The change was finally made because many thought Indiana was a backwards state for refusing to fit in.
The reason for so many years of bucking the national trend was simple. Cows are stubborn about their sleeping schedules. And since Indiana relied so much on farming, the concerns of the bovine outweighed the concerns of man. (Other farming states didn't seem to mind so much.)
I can only imagine the fury of the cows today.
Until recently, Indiana has failed to observe Daylight Savings Time. Once Indiana made the switch, it became something of an event, for some people. The change was finally made because many thought Indiana was a backwards state for refusing to fit in.
The reason for so many years of bucking the national trend was simple. Cows are stubborn about their sleeping schedules. And since Indiana relied so much on farming, the concerns of the bovine outweighed the concerns of man. (Other farming states didn't seem to mind so much.)
I can only imagine the fury of the cows today.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
A Murder of Crows
Ran across this site today, which has the important purpose of communicating the
technical term for groups of different things. Did you know the following (real) collective terms?
Updated: I added the "Ferret in a Sweater" label. I've been wanting to use that one for a while now and figured this was as good a time as any.
technical term for groups of different things. Did you know the following (real) collective terms?- An implausibility of gnus.
- A cartload of chimpanzees.
- A business of ferrets.
- A flamboyance of flamingos.
Updated: I added the "Ferret in a Sweater" label. I've been wanting to use that one for a while now and figured this was as good a time as any.
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