Wednesday, 6 July 2011.
Chuck picked me up after work. I hoped to wheedle him into going with me to the gym on the way home, but he wanted to eat as soon as possible. Except he wanted to stop at Linh's Market also to buy their Vietnamese sandwiches for tomorrow's dinner. Food, food, and more food is the driver of our household. His metabolism is so very different from mine. He needs at least a nibble every few hours, but I have coffee before my morning commute, a bagel sometime between 9 and 10, a pasta lunch around 1 p.m., and then dinner around 8. When he's ready for a dessert at the end of the evening, I'm yawning and cranky, nearly asleep on my feet. And sound asleep by 11:30.
So dinner tonight centered on thick veal T-bones grilled with a citrus rub and the sides include some perciatelle with fresh pesto, leftover roasted corn with chipotle, and a salad of iceberg wedges and watermelon slices. After I changed my tire and tube, we finished dinner with cocoanut ice cream and fresh raspberries.
I changed only the rear tire and tube, just what failed on my commute this morning. I plan to change the front tire, which shows some less amount of wear, over the weekend. I think it's always good to change both tires at the same time, just to keep it simpler with the same mileage for each tire. But the rear tire always will wear faster than the front, since the drive wheel receives more torque and develops more friction than the steering wheel.
The Garmin time and mileage for this replacement is 25:23:02 at 416.38 miles. I'm trying out a new tire to me: the Michelin ERiLiUM/2/ with Kevlar.(The Michelin website indicates this tire is no longer available. I remember buying it as a close-out at a local bike store.)
Changing a tire is only a bit more involved than changing a tube. The package for my Bontrager tube has 14 steps for replacing a tube, and the only missing step is to shake about a teaspoon of talcum powder into the fresh tire and to dust the inside of the tire and rim with the powder before inserting the tube. The powder acts as a dry lubricant between the rim, tube, and tire, which allows you to make the small shifts necessary to position the valve stem vertically through the valve hole and allows the tube to make a small changes in position as it is being pumped to full inflation. The Michelin package suggests an inflation pressure of 7.75 bar (about 112 psi) for my weight.
Ride conditions
Temperature: 89 to 95°F at 17:20
Precipitation: none
Winds: 5 mph varied southerly
Clothing: Jeans, polo shirt, bare feet
Bike: Lotus Legend fixed gear—onto the shoulder and into the hatch of my Mazda MPV
Time: unrecorded
Heart rate: 78 to 97 bpm HRrest
Bikeway users: not me
There is no playback of the ride.
Showing posts with label tire wear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tire wear. Show all posts
06 July 2011
Bike-commute day 48—to work
Flat and HitchHiking
Wednesday, 6 July 2011.
Just after the second checkpoint, I saw a cyclist ahead of me taking a leisurely pace. As I reached him, I saw his hair flying. I warned him for the overtaking, saw no reaction, and I glanced at him as I passed. Earbuds were wrapped around his lobes.
I slowed to a crawl in the winding area between the crossings for Springfield Street and North Smithville and waited for him to reach me. I said, "You should take one of those earbuds out so you can hear traffic while you're riding."
"But I can hear you. The music's not on now." He was in the early twenties, his neck-length brown curls were disheveled from the ride. His gentle features were countered by a jutting lower jaw, tightening expression, and narrowed eyes.
In response to more about the need to hear traffic, he said, "Why don't you mind your own business. I can do what I want."
Sure, I can ride on by, mind my own business, and let him think that it's fine to ride without a helmet and to close out the traffic sounds around him. Perhaps he doesn't need a reminder that 175 pounds of flesh and bike are no match for 1800 pounds of power and auto. That even a slow speed of 12 mph means he covers 17.6 feet before he has a second to reach for the brakes. That a helmet often means the difference between minor injuries and death.
Was I wasting my breath, my time to continue talking to a young rider who assumes his invulnerability?
Doesn't the biking community need to take on a more visible public education role, where cyclists are taught about preventing and surviving accidents, motorists are encouraged to share the road and obey marked crossings, and all are taught to follow traffic laws and provide basic courtesy to others?
I considered these questions and others as I continued through my commute.
In the middle of the last leg of the commute, everything was going fine. Nice speed, little traffic, friendly greetings from the cyclists and walkers. And in one moment, I heard "Phiss phiss phiss" and then "phew, phew; phew. Phew." as I slowed to a stop.
A flat, judging by the sound. I looked at and felt the front tire: hard and perfectly inflated. Then the back tire: very soft, though it wasn't completely deflated yet. The air escape had stopped, and I rotated the tire to find what had caused the flat. I noticed a few points where fabric was showing through the rubber, and those were indications of what to expect. And when I rubbed my thumb over several threads that showed through the rubber, the fissure appeared, tube rubber popped through, and more air escaped.
With no chance of changing the tire itself, I lifted the bike to my shoulder and started walking toward Woodman Avenue, only 300 yards ahead of me. —Just enough time to say hi to Paul, this time without his two dogs, as he jogged passed me.— Once at Woodman, I took off my helmet and sunglasses, put on my happiest smile, and held out my thumb to the passing southbound traffic. After a wave of traffic passed, I looked behind me to check for adequate room for someone to stop. I moved about 30 feet north, to the end of a long, empty side lane intended for parking access to businesses.
Several waves of traffic passed, and I held up my thumb selectively. I knew that female drivers were unlikely to pick up a male hitchhiker, unless they happened to know me and work at Kodak also. Since my fixed-gear bike has bolted-on wheels, it wouldn't fit in most cars. And since drivers of business vehicles are usually scrupulous about liability issues, I held out my thumb only to male drivers of non-commercial pickups and vans.
I noticed a bronze Ford F-150 in the northbound lane make a u-turn at the light. The pickup pulled into the parking lane in front of me, and the driver waved for me to advance. I walked up to his window, and he said, "My wife is a biker. Figured I'd want someone to stop for her, so I should do the same." So I lifted the bike from my shoulder to the truck bed and climbed into the cab. He asked where I was headed, and he saw no problem with the side trip to Research Park from his normal course down Woodman. He even offered the use of his cellphone if I needed to call in to the office, though the travel to Kodak took less time than a phone call. The time was enough for introductions, a bit of talk about his wife's triathlons and his mountain biking at MoMBA, and quick interjected directions to the engineering entrance to the building.
Ride conditions
Temperature: 69 to 72°F at 07:55
Precipitation: none
Winds: calm
Clothing: Skinsuit, ankle socks, open-finger gloves.
Bike: Lotus Legend fixed gear
Time: 00:36:28 for 9.95 miles
Heart rate: 125 bpm HRave, 141 bpm HRmax
Bikeway users: 9 cyclists, 7 pedestrians, 1 dog
Here is a playback of the ride.
Just after the second checkpoint, I saw a cyclist ahead of me taking a leisurely pace. As I reached him, I saw his hair flying. I warned him for the overtaking, saw no reaction, and I glanced at him as I passed. Earbuds were wrapped around his lobes.
I slowed to a crawl in the winding area between the crossings for Springfield Street and North Smithville and waited for him to reach me. I said, "You should take one of those earbuds out so you can hear traffic while you're riding."
"But I can hear you. The music's not on now." He was in the early twenties, his neck-length brown curls were disheveled from the ride. His gentle features were countered by a jutting lower jaw, tightening expression, and narrowed eyes.
In response to more about the need to hear traffic, he said, "Why don't you mind your own business. I can do what I want."
Sure, I can ride on by, mind my own business, and let him think that it's fine to ride without a helmet and to close out the traffic sounds around him. Perhaps he doesn't need a reminder that 175 pounds of flesh and bike are no match for 1800 pounds of power and auto. That even a slow speed of 12 mph means he covers 17.6 feet before he has a second to reach for the brakes. That a helmet often means the difference between minor injuries and death.
Was I wasting my breath, my time to continue talking to a young rider who assumes his invulnerability?
Doesn't the biking community need to take on a more visible public education role, where cyclists are taught about preventing and surviving accidents, motorists are encouraged to share the road and obey marked crossings, and all are taught to follow traffic laws and provide basic courtesy to others?
I considered these questions and others as I continued through my commute.
In the middle of the last leg of the commute, everything was going fine. Nice speed, little traffic, friendly greetings from the cyclists and walkers. And in one moment, I heard "Phiss phiss phiss" and then "phew, phew; phew. Phew." as I slowed to a stop.
A flat, judging by the sound. I looked at and felt the front tire: hard and perfectly inflated. Then the back tire: very soft, though it wasn't completely deflated yet. The air escape had stopped, and I rotated the tire to find what had caused the flat. I noticed a few points where fabric was showing through the rubber, and those were indications of what to expect. And when I rubbed my thumb over several threads that showed through the rubber, the fissure appeared, tube rubber popped through, and more air escaped.
With no chance of changing the tire itself, I lifted the bike to my shoulder and started walking toward Woodman Avenue, only 300 yards ahead of me. —Just enough time to say hi to Paul, this time without his two dogs, as he jogged passed me.— Once at Woodman, I took off my helmet and sunglasses, put on my happiest smile, and held out my thumb to the passing southbound traffic. After a wave of traffic passed, I looked behind me to check for adequate room for someone to stop. I moved about 30 feet north, to the end of a long, empty side lane intended for parking access to businesses.
Several waves of traffic passed, and I held up my thumb selectively. I knew that female drivers were unlikely to pick up a male hitchhiker, unless they happened to know me and work at Kodak also. Since my fixed-gear bike has bolted-on wheels, it wouldn't fit in most cars. And since drivers of business vehicles are usually scrupulous about liability issues, I held out my thumb only to male drivers of non-commercial pickups and vans.
I noticed a bronze Ford F-150 in the northbound lane make a u-turn at the light. The pickup pulled into the parking lane in front of me, and the driver waved for me to advance. I walked up to his window, and he said, "My wife is a biker. Figured I'd want someone to stop for her, so I should do the same." So I lifted the bike from my shoulder to the truck bed and climbed into the cab. He asked where I was headed, and he saw no problem with the side trip to Research Park from his normal course down Woodman. He even offered the use of his cellphone if I needed to call in to the office, though the travel to Kodak took less time than a phone call. The time was enough for introductions, a bit of talk about his wife's triathlons and his mountain biking at MoMBA, and quick interjected directions to the engineering entrance to the building.
Ride conditions
Temperature: 69 to 72°F at 07:55
Precipitation: none
Winds: calm
Clothing: Skinsuit, ankle socks, open-finger gloves.
Bike: Lotus Legend fixed gear
Time: 00:36:28 for 9.95 miles
Heart rate: 125 bpm HRave, 141 bpm HRmax
Bikeway users: 9 cyclists, 7 pedestrians, 1 dog
Here is a playback of the ride.
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