So, this is a first...

When I pulled up to the bike rack yesterday, I saw something new: an unfamiliar lock and chain that appeared to be well-used. I thought that it perhaps belonged to my co-worker, who took the whole team along bike shopping over lunch earlier this week. He ended up with a fine, barely-ridden Trek 4500, which appears to be of a 2006 vintage:



It ended up being for someone else's bike, which I saw later in the day:


So it's official. It took almost two years, but someone else is finally riding their bike here.

I made the mistake of attempting to forge onward through the Indian Creek Trail construction yesterday. I made it, but let's say I won't be doing it again until the trail opens. Bike/Ped-friendly options for getting from one side of US-69 to the other through central Johnson County are few and far between. If you find yourself near Corporate woods, you'll be stuck braving 119th, College Blvd or 103rd street. I've stated previously that Johnson County is split into islands by highways. Within each island, it's pretty easy to get around using residential roads. To jump from one to another is often a frustrating affair.

I'm experimenting with a GPS transponder I built (think of it as kind of like a poor-man's "SPOT" tracker). It fits nicely in the pannier zipper pocket. I'm sure if I parked my bike somewhere with this thing attached, it'd get called in as a "suspicious device" and the bomb squad would get called in.


Inside, there's a waterproof box containing a few gadgets including a small radio transceiver, GPS, a battery pack and some other stuff that's needed to make it all play together nicely.


It's far from perfect. I'm still kind of working on it. I tested it yesterday while riding between home, the office and the hospital. It worked only part of the time. It transmits its location every time you make a significant change in heading (at every turn, basically) and about every 20 minutes when stationary. The problem is that it's largely a one-way operation so the rig doesn't know if the message actually got through, and I'm using a very low power transmitter. There are ways to fix both problems at the cost of increased power consumption and/or more expensive radio equipment inside the box. The map below is missing a significant number of turns, especially through residential and trail areas.


I will experiment with it some more as time goes on. I know there are smartphone applications that can upload your position and track your rides for you. I was looking to build something that operates without relying on the Internet. The above map was drawn using data gathered from a mesh network of amateur radio digital repeaters and internet-connected gateways.

Anyhow, I'm still here. I'm still riding for work and errands when I can. I'm still a nerd. You can call me Captain Dashboard. I don't mind.

Random Tunage:
Plaid - Assault on Precinct Zero
Elite Force - Cross The Line

Quote of the month, if not the year.

commuterDude (muttered elsewhere on the Internets):

My daily scan of regional Craiglist feed, looking for touring/rando frames, came across advert from a college town which begins with "need to sell bike for gas money..." Um, dude...why don't you sell the CAR for bike spares, and ride it???

The man has a point. It feels like March outside right now. We've had perhaps two days that actually felt like winter this season.

I'm still alive. No, I haven't ridden more than a handful of times in the past month. It's complicated. I wish I could take 'dude's advice. Having a wife that practically lives in a hospital and/or requires constant care at the drop of a hat (up to and including zipping home over the lunch break a few times per week) is putting a serious damper on bike commuting. Like I said, the weather's been perfect for it. Grumble.

But hey! I got to meet A Midnight Rider face to face over some coffee 2 weeks ago.

Bike Ninja

A ratcheting whirr
A cyclist's faint silhouette
It's a bike ninja!

See him up there? Yeah, neither do I. There are two other stragglers who refuse to put their bikes away. One's a well-lit, pannier-toting guy who goes eastbound then south. Then there's this guy who travels west. Black bike, dark clothes, mammoth backpack and either a hipster cyst (knog frog) or a similarly dim, useless single white LED thing on his handlebars.

Cabin Fever

I didn't touch my bike at all this week. That feels strange. Some interesting sights caught my eye, though.

October.

The past few days have finally started feeling like fall, for real. Cooler temperatures, rapidly shortening days, and now begins the hanging-up of bicycles. The various group rides are thinning out or calling it a year. I've been seeing fewer and fewer of the regular cyclists I occasionally spot on my usual routes.

Consider picking up some decent lights and perhaps a brightly-colored, reflective-trimmed vest or windbreaker. This is one of the best seasons for riding! So many people miss out on it.

Random Tunage:
Hyper - Cascade
Aphex Twin - Pulsewidth

The Tube.

This post is mostly about car stuff. Feel free to ignore it.

When bicyclists think of having to replace a tube, they most likely think of the inner tube of a tire. Old school electronics junkies might think of an electron tube.

A while ago, my car's temperature gauge pegged the "hot" mark. I popped the hood and the cool, night air was instantly filled with fog. I grabbed a flashlight to determine the source of the coolant leak, only to find that every square inch under the hood was soaked in the sticky, steaming liquid.

The next afternoon, I surveyed the damage by daylight. I couldn't see anything obvious until I filled the coolant system back up a bit and started the car. Then, the source of the leak became obvious: An oddball part made of cheap fiberglass had cracked on a seam. I couldn't find this part in any of my service manuals, and two local parts stores had no clue, either.

I finally called the dealership. The conversation went like this:

Me: "I have a 2000 [Ford Focus] ZX3 with a nasty coolant leak. I found the leak, but I can't find the part in the service manual."

Ford: "Is it the tube that sits on top of the radiator?"

Me: "It is."

Ford: "We have them in stock. Let me look up the price. [Long pause] $32.70"

Me: "Well, that's not too bad, I suppose. Do you mind if I ask what that part is called?"

Ford: "It's 'The Tube.'"

Me: "The Tube?"

Ford: "Yep. We always keep a few around."

The Tube. Seriously. It's kind of a pointless part for what it needs to do. A small "Y" splitter would have made much more sense. It's held in with a pair of plastic rivets and three hose clamps. A trained monkey could swap it out in 10 minutes or less. I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but it's almost like this thing was designed to break somewhere after 100,000 miles and prompt a $250 trip to the shop.

I have been blowing it off for the past few weeks, since there's not that much rush to fix it. This morning, I finally got around to paying the stealership a visit. For giggles, I simply asked for "The Tube for a 2000 ZX3" to see if they'd actually know what I was asking for. "That sits on top of the radiator?" the parts guy queried. "The same."

Bike Salmon and Headwind

The breeze picked up even more this afternoon, gusting close to 30, northwest. Perfect headwind for the early ride home. Noteworthy moment of the ride: Two helmetless 20-somethings on cartoonishly tiny BMX bikes with saddles all the way down, salmoning very slowly against traffic on Santa Fe Trail Drive. I wanted to get a picture, but even with the headwind, I was going too fast (as in, 9 miles per hour, if that) to get my phone out of my pocket in time. Plus, derping with my phone while trying to hold a straight line is probably just as dumb as riding against traffic without a helmet. c'Dude rocked a 200k permanent today. I can only imagine how the north-bound half of that trip went. I had half an hour of wind torture. He probably had more than 5 hours of it. Egad.

Random Tunage:
Margot Meets The Music Maker - Torch (Extrawelt Remix Redux)
Way Out West - Sequoia

Morning Stillness

4:30 AM. Check weather. Catch up on some stuff in Google Reader.
5:00 AM. Blearily and with reluctance attach my pannier to the rack, throw on the reflect-o-vest. Shove off.

The stillness at this hour always surprises me. My usual commutes are close to rush hour, but even Dark Side Rides, which usually run to midnight or later, are riddled with the hustle and bustle of people making their way around town. At 5, though, the stillness of everything is freakish. Lights are on in some homes, but no one is outside. I was passed by two cars in the half hour I was on the road. Riding along Interstate 35, I'd only see a car or two per minute. I approached the steady pulsating of a FRED on the tail end of a train comprised of empty flatbed cars. Making my way to the idling locomotive up front, I could hear the gentle hiss of air leaking from a few of the brake line couplings. Turning west, I hear critters scurring away from my LED light in the roadside brush.

Any other time of the day, there's just too much going on to appreciate the truly subtle things.