Motorcycle Snobs....

If you don't ride a motorcycle, you might have never noticed this. I didn't before I rode a motorcycle, but my sister did.

Motorcyclists acknowledge each other with a downward wave when they pass each other. I saw this numerous times before I became a rider, but I just thought it was a coincidence that every motorcyclist seemed to know each other. Duh.

When I got my first motorcycle almost four years ago, Hubby took me on a few short little rides so I could get used to the bike. Well, that's what I THOUGHT he was doing. He only knows one speed: wide open. And he doesn't know that he's supposed to look in his mirror every now and then to see if I'm still back there. That's why he didn't even know I had dropped my brand-new motorcycle the very first time I tried to ride it out of our subdivision. I had ridden it one quarter of a mile. Broke its little taillight off. A stranger stopped to see if I needed help, but Hubby was long gone. But I digress.

On one of those short rides, we met another motorcyclist, and he acknowledged me with the downward, sort of two-finger wave. I got all emotional and almost had to pull over. I had a Sally Fields moment, thinking "They like me! They really like me!" I was a member of the club.

My step-daughter said she and her then-boyfriend only acknowledged "real" bikes. When she said that, I took it to mean that they only acknowledged other Harleys, and I was a little offended. I also secretly wondered how the heck they could tell what brand a motorcycle was by looking at it from the front going 60 mph. Or in my case, 40 mph. In retrospect, I think what they meant was they didn't acknowledge the so-called "crotch rockets". Or those little scooters that sound like a mosquitoes on steroids, but I'm with them on that. Now that I ride a Harley myself, though, I don't have to have motorcycle envy. Hubby swears he doesn't care for Harleys and he's prouder of his Honda, but I'd like for him to explain then why he went to the trouble and expense to have new pipes put on his almost brand-new Honda last year. What do they do? Make his Honda sound like a Harley. But I digress again.

Sometimes when I'm riding my bicycle, I like to throw down the motorcyclists' gesture just to see what the rider will do. Most of the time they ignore me completely. Occasionally one of them will, probably out of sheer habit, return the gesture, and I can tell that he is thinking, "Damn, that is a BICYCLE. I didn't mean to wave at that broad." Because I'm pretty sure most of them would refer to a woman on a bicycle as a broad.

Occasionally I just make eye contact with a motorcyclist and smile, and sometimes one of them will make an awkward wave-type gesture, not entirely sure of what to do in that situation. Once on BRAG a motorcyclist was stopped at an intersection waiting for about a gazillion bicyclists to go past, and I gestured that I wanted to trade bikes. Either he didn't understand my sign language, or he didn't understand why there were a gazillion bicycles on the road in the first place. He didn't even have the decency to smile, much less laugh uproariously, which is what I thought it deserved.

When I'm on my motorcycle and I see a bicyclist, I feel obligated to let him/her know that I also ride a non-motorized two-wheeler. But most of them glare at me for polluting the environment and not getting my arse out there to pedal myself. When I come up behind two of them hogging the entire lane and making me go into the oncoming lane to get around them, I want to stop and tell them that it's bicyclists like THEM who get the rest of us killed. Or at least have bottles and cigarettes thrown at us. Sometimes I give them the motorcyclist greeting, left hand extended downward, but most of the time they look at me as if to ask, "What in the world are you pointing at?"

When I'm on my bicycle and I see a motorcyclist, I also want him/her to know that I have one of THOSE, I'm just CHOOSING to pedal and get some exercise. I don't want motorcyclists to speed away all smug and all.

When I rode my bicycle on Sunday, I saw several motorcycles on the road at different times. It was the first decent day of the year, so I wasn't surprised. I also saw a robin and a family getting their boat ready to go to the lake, but they may have been rushing things just a bit. One motorcycle that I saw was one of the larger ones, and there was a .... larger .... man riding it. I waved, he nodded, we went on our way. Then I made a turn or two, and there he was again, coming out of a driveway. I don't know if he lived there or if he just decided to take a break. I smiled and rode on. He came out into the road behind me, and he slowed down to match my pace. That means he was just about to fall over. He pointed at my bicycle and said, "That's what I NEED to be doing."

I nodded at his motorcycle and said, "That's what I'm GOING to do, just as soon as I get home." And then, of course, I had to.

I just wanted him to know that I had a choice. Just in case he happened to be one of the motorcycle snobs.

Lying Weatherman.....

I'm glad we were smart enough to believe what we felt on our skin instead of what the lying weather people told us.

It was supposed to be warm enough to ride bicycles today. Team Chi-Chis scheduled an informal ride from a location that is (fairly) convenient for all of us. The high was supposed to be around 56 or 57.

That's doable on a bike.

Then they started hedging. Maybe 54. Or 52. That doesn't seem like such a huge difference, but keep in mind that we are constantly moving. At blazing speeds.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Then they said there would be NO sun today, that the cloud cover would be in place all day long. I was skeptical, since the sun came out beautifully yesterday and warmed things up some.

But we canceled, and boy am I glad we did.

I don't think it got out of the 40's today. And I didn't get out of the recliner. Much.

Hubby played golf, but he used his brand-new golf cart cover, complete with a propane heater. He says you have to love the game of golf to play in conditions like these. I have my own ideas about what that indicates, but I'll just keep those to myself.

It's just as well that we didn't ride. I got home from South Carolina at 2:00 AM. I am getting way too old to stay out that late. I don't intend to do it ever again.

Until next Friday night, when I may . . . may . . . may just travel to Alabama for a gymnastics meet.

I have a very short memory.

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah Zip-a-dee-ay.....

My oh my, what a wonderful day!

This was one of those days when I absolutely love living in the South. The weather is certainly unpredictable, and we typically go straight from summer to winter..... and sometimes back again.... without warning.

But I'll take days like this.

Bright sunshine and temperatures in the 70's. It's possible that my cheeks are sunburned. In November.

Katydid, Rozmo, and I went for a bike ride. Katydid and I rode the tandem, and we just tooled around, following some routes I've ridden before. We turned at random because I wasn't worried about getting lost. We were never more than 10 miles from my house.

We couldn't get the speaker system on the tandem to work, so we missed all of the UGA game. But we were only playing a high school sort of team, so we weren't worried. We did check scores during store stops, and the Dawgs won 38-0. That was our first shut-out in three years.

We rode a total of 37 miles, and I could have ridden 37 more. Okay, maybe 10.

Catfish Memorial Ride....

Katydid, Rozmo, and I rode today in a bicycle ride called the Lewis Grizzard & Catfish Memorial Bike Ride. It was named for late great Lewis Grizzard, a sportswriter-turned-humorist whom I loved because he was unabashedly a UGA Bulldog fan all his life. Catfish was his lovable black Labrador retriever, the topic of many of his columns.

I was slightly disturbed when I went to the Lewis Grizzard website and found there a list of upcoming appearances, since Lewis died in 1994 at the age of 47.

The bicycle ride today was in his hometown (or at least the town he grew up in), Moreland, Georgia.

It was a perfect day for riding. Skies were overcast, keeping temperatures down, no wind, and no rain, unlike our LAST bicycle ride. I didn't hesitate at the decision point for which route to take, not even blinking when we chose the 66-mile route. And I didn't regret it one time. Well, maybe the last mile, since it was one mile further than the "two miles to the finish" that was painted on the road. But I would have hated that last mile no matter WHICH route we rode.

My personal decision to ride the longer route was based on three things: perfect weather, the Atlanta Falcons had a bye week so I wasn't missing a football game (well, I was, but not the hometown team), and I don't have to work tomorrow. Poor Katydid - On the back of the tandem, she's pretty much bound to my decisions. But luckily she usually agrees with them. I don't know what we'll do if she ever DISAGREES.

Katydid and I were on the tandem, and Rozmo rode with us to the bitter end. We were the last three people in, something that used to bother us but doesn't anymore. We left late, we dawdled at rest stops, and we're just dang slow. But Rozmo, being the terrific friend she is, stayed with us all the way, even though she could have finished much earlier if she hadn't hung with us, and we were just happy there was some lunch left when we got back.

After a 66-mile bicycle ride, dinner consisted of three kosher dill pickle spears and a small bag of pretzels. I crave salty things after a bike ride.

If I hadn't forgotten my camera, it would have been a perfect day altogether.

My Favorite Time of Year....

This is probably my very favorite time of year.

Well, it will be as soon as it cools off somewhat. Almost 90 degrees at 8:00 PM.

In the next month, however, temperatures will cool off and the air will be crisp and cool in the mornings. In the afternoons we can go walk in the park without feeling like we're breathing through gauze.

Bicycle riding will be much more comfortable. Katydid and I have at least four organized bicycle rides coming up, two of which are overnighters. We're pretty much over sleeping in tents, however. Comfortable beds, internet, television, air conditioning. Roughing it has lost its charm. Sitting on a bicycle seat for 50 miles or so is rough enough anyway.

School will settle into a routine and I'll once again feel purposeful. (Is that an adjective that can refer to a person?) We'll soon figure out our new computer curriculum and perhaps even be able to explain to students how it works.

More importantly, however, within the next month baseball season and football season will overlap.

Life is good.

Dear Redneck Dude...

Dear Redneck Dude with the bad teeth and worse hair:

Perhaps it made you FEEL manly to yell at me as I rode my bicycle (outside the white line, I might add). Maybe you impressed your buddy by telling me to get off the road.

Really you just showed your ignorance.

You see, in the state of Georgia (and many others that you've probably never heard of), a bicycle is a vehicle. We have the same rights, rules, and responsibilities as you and your buddy in the '93 Corolla. Or maybe it was a Hyundai. Whatever.

I know there are cyclists out there who are obnoxious and hog the road. According to the law, that is their right. My friends and I, however, ALWAYS ride single file when there is a car behind us. Besides that, there was NOTHING coming. You could have passed easily. Oh yeah, I forgot, you didn't need to pass at all. You screamed at us as you TURNED LEFT.

Jerk.

You should treat a bicycle just like you would a car driven by your grandmother. In my case, it might be your grandmother on sleeping pills.

If there's room to pass, do so, and use as much of the OTHER lane as you can. If there isn't room to pass, you should WAIT BEHIND THE BICYCLE until the car coming from the other direction has passed, and THEN you pass.

It isn't your road, a**hole. It's OUR road. If you don't want to see bicycles on the road, then I have a great idea for you.

Stay home.

Drink your PBR and watch NASCAR and scratch yourself and pass gas and wonder why your sister has 5 children, none of whom look alike or share the same last name.

But leave me and my friends to enjoy our bike ride in peace.

Flipping you the bird virtually,

Bragger

Pavement Ends...

Pavement Ends....

Just about the two most hateful words in the English language when it comes to bicycling. (Well, maybe "big dogs" ranks right up there also.) They aren't much fun when motorcycling either, but at least I'm not as irritated with the prospect of turning around and doing extra mileage when I'm on my motorcycle. Dirt and/or gravel roads just pose a particular danger to bicyclists and motorcyclists. With my apologies to George Orwell, "Four wheels good, two wheels baaaaaaaaaaad."

That's the danger of creating a new route on a computer website. I really like the site, and I've created dozens of new cycling routes on it, but twice now I've ventured off the beaten path and wound up on a dirt road. Dirt roads and my skinny tires that are inflated to 100psi just don't mix.

I had a bail-out route just in case this nice little country road turned out to be dirt, but it wasn't. Not. At. First. I had ridden about a mile and a half on it before the wretched "Pavement Ends" sign appeared. I was too ticked off even to stop and take a picture of the sign, KNOWING that would be tonight's blog topic.

I didn't opt to turn around and head for the bail-out route, probably due only to stubbornness. For once my stubbornness was actually a good thing -- seems the bail-out route was a dirt road too. Where did these dirt roads come from? They were right between two major highways. I appreciated the lack of traffic, but the loose surface was treacherous. I was gingerly making my way downhill (the one time I do NOT like to go fast on my bicycle), trying not to ride the brakes and skid, but also trying not to get up too much speed, when a truck stopped beside me.

"Excuse me," the lady said between puffs of her cigarette. Thanks for poisoning my lungs too. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where Drowning Creek Road is?" She motioned that I should keep riding while trying to explain it to her. She didn't know I was already multi-tasking on a level that I should never attempt, especially on my bicycle.

Drowning Creek Road. Now isn't that a lovely name for a road?

"I've never been on this road before," I replied. "But I'm looking for Drowning Creek Road too. This road should come out on it, but the last intersection I passed didn't have a sign."

They were nice enough people. I hope they found their way. They would have taken a giant leap forward in raising my overall view of human beings if they had come back to tell me where the road was when they found it. Instead of leaving me in intertwined clouds of cigarette smoke and dust. Perhaps they could have told me that I should turn LEFT on Drowning Creek Road instead of RIGHT. Because when I did find the road and turned right, the next two hateful words I saw (they also rank right up there on the hateful list) were "Dead End."

This would probably not be a good time to point out that I also have a GPS on my bicycle. Not one that tells me to turn right or left, but one that shows me where I've been.

So now I know not to use that particular route again, or at least not the part that connected to Drowning Creek Road. It was a beautiful day for a ride, and I will post the link to my map at the end of this post just in case anybody out there gives a rip.

I feel obligated to point out that the temperature here this afternoon was 70. I feel a little guilty, considering I was just whining a few posts ago about how cold it was. You gotta love winter in the South. 70 degrees -- yay.

If only it would stay this way, but I know the cold will come back with a vengeance. At least I got my 30 miles in today.

Drowning Creek Loop

New Vocabulary......

Team Chi-Chis (minus Katydid) rode our bicycles 48 miles in the wind today, so it's off to bed early. Before I retire, however, I feel obligated to pass along some new vocabulary words that we picked up on the bike ride today. Actually, we made them up.

• Goobered (verb, past tense) - Passed on a bicycle by a goober.
• Goober (noun) - Any male of approximately 10-14 years of age, depending upon stage of puberty. Also applies to males of any age depending upon attitude and behavior. (Immediately follows the "little bastard" stage, according to hubby.)
• Spinnerized (verb, past tense) - Passed on a bicycle by a spinner.
• Spinner (noun) - Male bicyclist with extremely hairy legs who continues to utilize the cycling method of spinning, even when on flat ground or going downhill.
• Spin (verb) - To pedal easily and quickly in a lower gear, usually used for going uphill. You make zero progress, but you LOOK like you're doing something.
• G.G.ed (verb, past tense) - Passed on a bicycle by a G.G.
• G.G. (noun) - Girl goober. She didn't qualify for the title by gender OR age, but she was labeled such due to a miscommunication, so G.G. she is.

Fall is in the air...

Gus and I finally went to the park today, and there was just a touch of fall in the air. Those first crisp autumn mornings tend to fill me with either tremendous energy or an ache in my heart that I can't explain or describe. Today I was leaning toward the melancholy to start with, so the chill in the air made me a little morose. No, morose is not the word....introspective maybe. In addition to my heaviness of mood, the skies were overcast. Perhaps that explains the weirdness of the photographs I chose to take on our walk today.

I feel compelled to comment on that last one because it bugs me. Being both a biker (although I prefer the term "cyclist") and a hiker in this state park, I think I can offer objective commentary.

The paths in the park have been expertly designed to keep mountain bikers and walkers separated for the most part. Naturally, however, there are a couple of places where it is necessary for the different paths to converge -- like going over the bridge, for example.

Why should the cyclists yield to the walkers? It's much easier for the walkers to step aside on the path and allow the bicycles, presumably traveling at a faster rate anyway, to pass. There are some occasions when it is not only dangerous but darn near impossible for a bicycle to get off the path.

When I'm walking in the park, I step aside and allow the cyclists to pass. And they usually tell me "thank you." I think I would do that even if I weren't a cyclist in my other life.