Metal Fatigue at Venetian Isles

Rather than waiting, shoeless, in the cool shade of the gazebo at Spanish Fort, as is his habit, Big Rich went a few minutes early to the swim-hole, where his wife, Leslie, was meeting a few friends for a swim, ride and run.

At the Swim-hole, Lake Pontchartrain

The weather was mild, with calm winds and temperatures in the low seventies at the start. According to KNEW observations, it never got above 79° during the ride, but it felt hot enough to me to mark Sunday as the last single-water-bottle ride of the season.

Being Memorial Day weekend and with races elsewhere, the smallish group of about 18 riders was not unexpected. The ride was largely unremarkable. There was the now predictable chasing of Rob K. on Hayne, as he tries to cram the energy expenditure of an entire Giro into the ride out to Chef Hwy, where he turns for home. There was a visiting couple from West Virginia, who used to live in New Orleans. I didn't get their names, but can attest to the fact that the fairer component of the duo is plenty strong. And then there was the failure of one of Vega's spokes, about which I made no comment whatever, but which provoked among others numerous opinions about Vega's wheel choice in light of the manufacturer's rider-weight restrictions₁ for Zipp 404s.

Broken Spoke at Venetian Isles

Silhouettes on Lakeshore Drive

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1.

[Note: This blog isn't intended to disparage or offend anyone. If anything contained herein is believed to be inaccurate or offensive, please leave a comment. Any such comment may change nothing, but will be stark evidence of your right to free expression of thought and opinion, much as this blog evidences mine. Thanks for visiting.] 

Pleasant Spring Thursday on the Levee

I haven't posted in a couple of weeks, largely attributable to two circumstances: 1) I've been too busy to write anything here, and 2) I've only been on the bike once (until this morning) since my last post, so there was very little to write about related to cycling. Actually, I'm only going to get busier over the next two months or so, which may make it increasingly difficult to ride or blog.

I really don't have much time now to devote to this. It was a pleasant ride this morning, with HL having no one to play with on the way out, and with Woody (who joined us on the way in) apparently tapering for a race weekend.

Please refrain from engaging in inappropriate locker-room humor regarding this image of Retail Ray. He has only recently returned from a rather extended hiatus, and I don't want to upset him. I learned he can be sensitive when I inquired a short while ago about the cause of his absence, and he told me I was being nosy. So no off-color remarks, please. I also happen to know he suffers from hyperhidrosis and is wise to take a big gulp whenever he can. Anyway, it's good to see him back on the levee.

The group this morning started large, got smaller, then grew again as some turned early and we were joined by various little factions on the way out to Ormond. As we rounded the big bend at the country club, I saw a rider up ahead of the group in the red and black kit of Spokesman or N.O. Fish House. I thought it was Lenny, but as we approached, the rider in red stood up on his pedals to accelerate and began rocking side to side so violently that I thought he would fling himself off of his bike. I knew immediately it wasn't Lenny, but Charlie D. The Big Dude and his entourage are starting earlier and joining our group on the way out now, and the River Parishes were represented this morning by Movie Star Dave, Steve, and Rolan.

It looks like we're about to lose another section of levee as the construction activity has begun west of Ochsner, and the path at the Shrewsbury Ct. access is about to go bye-bye.

Approaching the Turnaround

Finally, if you haven't seen this yet, watch it, watch it full-screen: http://youtu.be/aeCRnFq_9Lo

[Note: This blog isn't intended to disparage or offend anyone. If anything contained herein is believed to be inaccurate or offensive, please leave a comment. Any such comment may change nothing, but will be stark evidence of your right to free expression of thought and opinion, much as this blog evidences mine. Thanks for visiting.] 
 

Long Odds and Crazy Train

There is a rule of inferential statistics which is known as the Rare Event Rule. Basically the Rare Event Rule states that if under a particular assumption, the probability of a certain observed event is minuscule, then the assumption is most likely incorrect. In other words, when an extremely improbable event occurs, statisticians conclude that either a rare event actually happened, or the original assumption was not true. Statisticians use this rule to test the validity of hypotheses.

right to left: The Weak and Far-flung

For example, I would assume that I, a relatively normal cyclist living in New Orleans, would never ever go on a ride in Florida with The Weak, who is normally seen on the levee sucking on Bob P.'s wheel, and The Far-flung, who is, after all, far-flung. Nevertheless, I found myself on just such a ride last Saturday in Florida. Accordingly, any statistician would necessary conclude my hypothesis (the probability of my riding with the Weak and Far-flung in FL was zero) was dead wrong, or that our ride on Hwy. 30A near Seaside, Florida, was indeed a very rare event. I'm not a stats guy, and I don't think I've stated the hypothesis correctly, because it seems to me that both my assumption was wrong and a rare event occurred.


 We were in Seaside for a wedding, and did about a 30-mile loop, east to Rosemary Beach and then westward to Dune Allen and back. Of course, The Weak got out as we passed Seaside coming west from Rosemary Beach. Actually he is to be entirely excused in this instance, as father of the bride on the big day and burdened as he so succinctly expressed: "I have errands." Hwy 30A is a nice place to ride on weekends, although I was on it photographing on Friday and there seemed to be a lot of commercial traffic during the work week. During our ride, I was mindful of the fact that Big Rich lost a chunk of thigh meat to a car on this very stretch of road in the past. Seaside is a beautiful location, and I was able to get out each morning to photograph.

Pausing at the benches, where everything started to go wrong.

Tuesday's levee ride was well attended. HL was present and acting like, well, HL. But without support his brief surges were tolerable. So the ride was quite pleasant. Wait, let me qualify that. It was quite pleasant until we got to the turn around and were joined by the OWNHB (whb)₁. For some reason unknown to all but the OWNHB, every time he would get near the front of the paceline, he would sit up and let two or three guys go off the front, causing people to have to go around him and chase and splitting the line up. He kept doing it. Eventually, in a tone showing more irritation than I'd like to admit, I asked him why the f*ck he was doing it. He said he was going to teach the group a lesson about bad sportsmanship. Well, that made a lot of sense. So the next time he did it I told him to quit riding like a dick or ride somewhere else, and he responded (and I swear this is verbatim), "Seven broken bones and 71 years old, what's your excuse?" Whether it was his intention or not, this shut me up because it made about as much sense as the bad sportsmanship comment, and I was rendered truly speechless.

He was down the levee by his van as Big Rich, the Far-flung and I rode by going Uptown, and he waved to me with his hand held as high as possible. He was saying something, which, if I had been able to hear it, I'm certain would have made zero sense. HL had a theory that his behavior and bad sportsmanship comment was the expression of lingering anger at his being, as HL put it, "worked over by me and Rinard on Sunday." Who could possibly know?

Mental wounds not healing
Life's a bitter shame
I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train
I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train

I've listened to preachers,
I've listened to fools
I've watched all the dropouts
Who make their own rules
One person conditioned to rule and control
The media sells it and you live the role

Mental wounds still screaming
Driving me insane
I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train
I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train

-- from Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne, Randy Rhoads, and Bob Daisley

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 1. OWNHB (whb) = The One With No Handle Bars (with handle bars).


[Note: This blog isn't intended to disparage or offend anyone. If anything contained herein is believed to be inaccurate or offensive, please leave a comment. Any such comment may change nothing, but will be stark evidence of your right to free expression of thought and opinion, much as this blog evidences mine. Thanks for visiting.]