Flying Too Close to the Ground

Vickie split for Texas the other day, to take care of some business and she will be missed immensely. She left me and the dogs here in Emerald City to welcome Spring to the neighborhood. Spring appeared a few days ago but I’m expecting her to go missing again soon. That’s her nature I reckon, here one moment, gone the next. So while she was in town, I got the “EV” out of the garage, put a freshly charged battery in and mowed the lawn, for the first time in 2023. I’m not looking forward to the next 21 times, I prefer gravel and cactus but that’s a story for another day.

I always know when Spring’s in town. The temperature begins to fluctuate wildly, from the high 80’s one afternoon, to the low 20’s a morning or so later. The incessant wind makes it feel like a blast furnace or a walk-in beer cooler, depending on the time of day and the velocity of the wind. Here’s a poem about the wind, I was inspired to write a few years ago. So while Vickie gets to enjoy summertime temperatures down in the Metroplex, the dogs and I get more cold and wind here in Emerald City. Well, at least it’s not dark for 18 hours a day.

I Like Gravel

Vickie will have to deal with some moisture though, down there in sub-tropical Texas; something we rarely worry about here. The heat and humidity is sort of like being in a sauna. I like saunas but not all the time, about a half hour, a few times a week is perfect. I wish we had a sauna here but we don’t. What we do have is plenty of gravel roads, and I like gravel too. I even like it for more than a half hour at a time – but not too much more.

After I finished mowing the yard the other day, I put my valiant gravel steed, “Double Cross” in the work vice and replaced her stretched and worn chain with a shiny, brand spanking new one. I knocked a few of last years dirt clods off her frame and aired up her tires; I even thought about doing some other maintenance but I tend to follow the adage; “if it’s not broke, don’t fix it.” Let the bikes tell me when they need love. They don’t whine as much as the dogs.

Double Crossed

Once I got “Double Cross” tuned, it was time for a test ride – another first for 2023. Off to the beer store to pick up a pack of “Fat Tire.” Beer is a warm weather commodity here at 3MPH, so we haven’t been to the beer store since back in 2022 sometime. The new chain worked flawlessly as I raced a few pickup trucks down Main Street. The wind was at my back so I was flying along, at well over the posted 25 mph speed limit. Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket on a bicycle?

“Riding a bicycle is the closest you can get to flying.” ~ Robin Williams

No flying on the way back. It was dead into a stiff headwind with a pannier full of beer. Slow and steady was the thought, as I coaxed “Double Cross” up to double digits on the return trip. The “Fat Tires” tasted really good and it didn’t take long to get halfway through the pack, even without Vickie’s help. She still had her HIIT, (High Intensity Interval Training) down at the gym later in the afternoon, so no beer for her – how sad.

After I kissed her goodbye this morning, she motored off towards Tejas and I started evaluating the weather forecast. I knew that today would be my best opportunity for the next week or so to score another 2023 first – the first gravel ride of the season. The conditions weren’t all that appealing, with way more wind than I like for my gravel excursions but it’s in my blood. So I filled the water bottles and donned the spandex – I was “ready to ride.”

“To me, it doesn’t matter whether it’s raining or the sun is shining or whatever: as long as I’m riding a bike I know I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” ~ Mark Cavendish

No Risk – No Reward

The forecast was for the temperature to eclipse 80 with the UV rays staying fairly moderate but the wind was supposed to build all day and roll around from the west to the north. So, I reckoned if I rode a predominantly N-S south route coming home north to south, I might take advantage of the changing wind direction. It’s always a risk though on the High Plains.

But there’s no reward without some risk, so I headed out of town about an hour or so after Vickie did, going the opposite direction. The meadowlarks were whistling, the sun was shining and the wind was blowing. And I was off, on the first gravel bike ride of 2023. The roads were in excellent condition. Just enough fine sand on the edge of the clay hard-pack.

The tires made a beautiful crunching sound, harmonizing with the whistling meadowlarks and the whistling wind. Hawks and vultures leapt from the tops of power poles as if wing-dancing to the High Planes music. I was floating on the wind like a Bird of Prey for the first ten miles or so until an evil Goat-Head attacked the front tire. Decelerating from 20 mph, as your front tire pressure drops to zero is a non-trivial event, in fact it’s kind of frightening.

“Life is like riding a bicycle – in order to keep your balance, you must keep moving.” ~ Albert Einstein

Keep Moving

Disaster was averted however and it was just a matter of sitting in the gravel at the side of the road and patching the tube, as the wind tousled my hair. The first flat of 2023 was fairly painless but shortly thereafter I turned the corner and started the home leg, going south. It became obvious pretty quickly that the accelerating wind was coming from the southwest, not the northwest as the forecast suggested.

It occurred to me why it was so pleasant on the out-leg. The wind was actually helping me, though I didn’t realize it at the time. I figured I was just in incredible shape from my Winter training rides in the basement – not! It was obvious now that the wind was quartering from the southwest and it was increasing speed with each pedal stroke. I attempted a cheerful thought, “This is what I live for, high adventure on the high planes, embracing nature – just relax into it.”

I tried to hold the thought, as I searched the horizon for the tall grain elevators that marked Emerald City, some ten miles distant across the windy plane. The hot dry wind was playing havoc with my sinuses. My nose began to run at the same time my eyes began to tear. The wind pushed the moisture around the side of my head; drying before it made it too far, leaving white, crusty salt tracks along the side of my face.

Aqualung

The lyrics from Aqualung, by Jethro Tull appeared in my head, as I wiped away the salt tracks with my cycling gloves. 

Snot is running down his nose.
Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Hey, Aqualung.

I wondered why I was remembering lyrics from a 1971 song by a British Rock band. Did the wind whistling past my ears sound like Ian Anderson’s flute? Why did the lyrics and the image they create still reside there in my mind, some 50 years later, and why appear now? Then it occured to me that I had listened to the album a few weeks ago, in the basement on the training bike.

“When my legs hurt, I say: ‘Shut up, legs! Do what I tell you to do!” ~ Jens Voigt

A Wandering Mind

That’s the thing about soloing out on the gravel. The mind wanders all about, embracing nature for awhile; the birds, the bees and the blue sky. Then when nature slams you with a fierce wall of wind, the mind dodges down some rabbit hole and comes up with weird song lyrics about a shabby-clothed psycho on a park bench, eyeing little girls with bad intent. Makes you go, hmm.

As I struggled against the fierce gale, I realized it was the pennance that I must pay for the incredibly beautiful out-leg, soaring on the wind like an eagle. Nothing of value in life comes without effort – There’s no free ticket – no magic pill. Nature, the hills, the wind and the gravel all teach the important lessons in life, if you pay attention. You just have to, “Get Out There.”

Never Stop Exploring!