Eve of the 4th
Spent the evening cleaning up babybro's bike. Frame got a wash/wax. Polished the rims, hubs, spokes. Took off the chain, degreased it, dried it, relubed it. Did most of this on my nifty new workstand.
Listened to the Nats lose to the Cubs at home as I was doing it. What a night--cool and not muggy. I left the garage door open, letting the breeze in as the one garage light and the sound of the baseball game on my tinny radio spilled out onto the street. Our neighbor across the street saw me wrenching, walked over and asked, good-naturedly, "Hey, is your shop open?" We talked for a bit; I explained how to remove/install bike chains, clean them, oil them, and the whole rest of it.
It was about eleven when I turned off the Nats post-game show and looked around. It was a beautiful night; clear and cool. The town looked like it had gone to bed.
I checked the lights on my bike, closed up the "shop," and went out for a look around the block. It wasn't a go-far or go-fast ride, but I was amused at how easy it felt--the (very) slight inclines didn't bother me any more, and I was rolling easily.
I had forgotten what it was like to be on my bike after dark. In some respects, the residential streets and quiet arterials become much easier to ride at night. The cars are lit up, and you can pick up their lights much more easily--especially if you have a rear-view mirror velcro-ed to your brake hood like I do. I run two blinkies in the back (one on the rack and another hanging off the toolbag on my saddle) and set them to blink out of phase with each other. Cars gave me a wide berth.
The surprise of the night was just how effective the optics were on my headlight. I run a Performance ViewPoint Gen3 LED headlamp--essentially a rebranded Nite Hawk emitter unit. In its "low" setting, it works well enough as a "be-seen" light under the streetlighting. On "high," it'll shine bright enough to light half a traffic lane on an unlit street; stop signs are lit up from a block and a half away. Impressive from a unit that draws so little current! I almost regret ordering the helmet mount kit (which is now certainly winging its way to me via UPS)--but at least I'll have another mounting option. Now if only I could find my other headlight that I was using as a flashlight...
I rode along part of the route of the Independence Day parade-- the good burghers of Fairfax had already set out their blankets and lawn chairs for tomorrow's festivities. I rolled by the empty chairs, patiently waiting for their owners, and smiled--this may be a soulless suburb to a soulless city, but it's also a small town where people expect to leave their lawn chairs out on the sidewalk and find them again in the morning.
I doubled back through the quiet residential streets. Dark houses; a few lights on, maybe a television. Nobody on the road. Tomorrow, this will be a carnival of marching bands and firemen and the Veterans of Foreign Wars and Confederate re-enactors and bicycle policemen and elected officials. But tonight, there is only the near-silence of a bedroom community in its fullness.
Listened to the Nats lose to the Cubs at home as I was doing it. What a night--cool and not muggy. I left the garage door open, letting the breeze in as the one garage light and the sound of the baseball game on my tinny radio spilled out onto the street. Our neighbor across the street saw me wrenching, walked over and asked, good-naturedly, "Hey, is your shop open?" We talked for a bit; I explained how to remove/install bike chains, clean them, oil them, and the whole rest of it.
It was about eleven when I turned off the Nats post-game show and looked around. It was a beautiful night; clear and cool. The town looked like it had gone to bed.
I checked the lights on my bike, closed up the "shop," and went out for a look around the block. It wasn't a go-far or go-fast ride, but I was amused at how easy it felt--the (very) slight inclines didn't bother me any more, and I was rolling easily.
I had forgotten what it was like to be on my bike after dark. In some respects, the residential streets and quiet arterials become much easier to ride at night. The cars are lit up, and you can pick up their lights much more easily--especially if you have a rear-view mirror velcro-ed to your brake hood like I do. I run two blinkies in the back (one on the rack and another hanging off the toolbag on my saddle) and set them to blink out of phase with each other. Cars gave me a wide berth.
The surprise of the night was just how effective the optics were on my headlight. I run a Performance ViewPoint Gen3 LED headlamp--essentially a rebranded Nite Hawk emitter unit. In its "low" setting, it works well enough as a "be-seen" light under the streetlighting. On "high," it'll shine bright enough to light half a traffic lane on an unlit street; stop signs are lit up from a block and a half away. Impressive from a unit that draws so little current! I almost regret ordering the helmet mount kit (which is now certainly winging its way to me via UPS)--but at least I'll have another mounting option. Now if only I could find my other headlight that I was using as a flashlight...
I rode along part of the route of the Independence Day parade-- the good burghers of Fairfax had already set out their blankets and lawn chairs for tomorrow's festivities. I rolled by the empty chairs, patiently waiting for their owners, and smiled--this may be a soulless suburb to a soulless city, but it's also a small town where people expect to leave their lawn chairs out on the sidewalk and find them again in the morning.
I doubled back through the quiet residential streets. Dark houses; a few lights on, maybe a television. Nobody on the road. Tomorrow, this will be a carnival of marching bands and firemen and the Veterans of Foreign Wars and Confederate re-enactors and bicycle policemen and elected officials. But tonight, there is only the near-silence of a bedroom community in its fullness.