I'm Back, Hopefully

For the record, and operating under the theory that public humiliation can act as a strong incentive, let me reveal here and now that until yesterday I'd only been on my bike three times since June 15th, two of which were largely noodling around the park with a retailer stressed by the pressure of selling to the mothers of runny-nosed little kids oversized shoes so the little darlings won't require another pair until the next school year, and a self-professed world-renowned chef who is in the saddle with considerably less frequency than even me.

The other of the three rides was my last on the levee on July 1st, about which I remember almost nothing but the terror of competing with cars full of commuters and dump trucks for a tiny sliver of asphalt along the broken edge of River Road from Oak Street all the way to the first levee access upriver of the Huey Long Bridge.

Last levee ride - July 1, 2014

I guess to be fair I should mention that the two noodling-through-the-park rides (only one of which was actually attended by The Weak) included several loops along St. Charles and Carrollton Aves. from Nashville to Claiborne.

Noodling in the park with The Weak and Far-Flung

So it was with this solid base of about 80 miles in more than two months that I decided to venture into the Black Pearl before dawn yesterday to meet Big Rich for the new Tuesday/Thursday ride out to, and then along, Lake Pontchartrain to the east and then west to Williams Blvd. Here is the 45-mile route from Big Rich's Garmin feed:

New Tuesday/Thursday Route

I must have really missed riding with this group because I was even pleased to see HL. And he was on a TT bike. It was only on the eastbound leg from West End to the turnaround near Camp Leroy Johnson, when HL declared we couldn't catch Ray (who had ridden off ahead of the group) at the comfortable pace we were enjoying and ramped it up to 28 mph, that he rode like the HL we all know and love. It was my first ever ride along the lake west from West End to Kenner. The path is wide and smooth, with fewer chances to run down an elderly pedestrian than riding through River Ridge, except perhaps during the transition over the levee and under the Causeway.

On the Lake in Kenner

[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.]

Sunday Giro - Summer's Here

Although the first day of summer isn't until next Saturday, the weather for Sunday's Giro was typical New Orleans summer conditions: hot and humid with mild to moderate winds out of the south.

I hadn't been on my bike since last Sunday's Giro, so I was a little apprehensive as I was preparing to go out to the lakefront this morning. My consternation, in part, was engendered by the report of Brian B. that Saturday's ride had averaged better than 26 mph from the Casino Bridge going out to the Seabrook Bridge coming home ₍₁₎. Obviously it isn't a fair comparison but this year's Paris-Roubaix was the second fastest in history and averaged just over 27 mph. Of course, it is a 160 mile race and there are the cobblestones. But nevertheless.

There were more than 30 riders at the start, including a large contingent from the 4D racing team and several members of the Peake BMW BEC ₍₂₎.

The pace turned out to be manageable if a little erratic. Very little of note occurred. As I pulled into the shade of the pee tree at Venetian Isles and dismounted, HL rolled by and declared he had been dropped. On the way in, we "noodled," as Big Rich put it, for three or four miles, causing Rich to undertake a troubling assessment regarding whether he might need a supplemental workout Sunday afternoon in the form of a visit to the gym. And the Bashful Artist was uncharacteristically vocal, emphatically imploring most of the group to "get out of the gutter you f**king morons" on the westbound Chef Hwy leg, and then becoming unhinged by what he considered to be an unreasonably mild pace along Dealership Row and screaming "THE PARTY'S OVER!" as he accelerated up along the side of the paceline toward the front. However, I could discern no difference in the pace when he got there. I became a little upset observing a nonplussed and very patient motorist trying to enter the on-ramp from Bullard onto I-10 east as inconsiderate cyclists kept streaming by the right side of the car. Sometimes it gets downright embarrassing.

In other news, regular readers of this space will remember my writing about the incident in which Big Rich and I were subjected to an impatient motorist (I'm being kind here) in a white BMW blasting a  horn for a solid half mile along River Road when the car in front of it, the car behind Big Rich and I, wouldn't pass us because it wasn't safe to do so. Well, although I wasn't present, Rich reports a repeat performance this week by the white BMW which almost caused an accident on Oak St. and prompted him to track down the driver, who, it turns out, is an apparently persistently late real estate attorney (it figures) who works on Maple Street. Rich went to her place of work to speak to her, but she was in a meeting, so he left his card. She eventually called him and tried to deny the incidents and then became smug when confronted with undeniable details. She ended the call by saying she would never take River Road again then hanging up. Here is an email exchange:

From: Kendra Duay [mailto:kendra@crescenttitle.com]
Sent: Thursday, June 12, 2014 11:40 AM
To: Richard B. Ehret
Subject: RE: River Road travel

I told you what you wanted to hear so please stop harassing me! Regards,

From: Richard B. Ehret [mailto:Richard@BEULaw.com]
Sent: Thursday, June 12, 2014 11:37 AM
To: Kendra Duay
Subject: RE: River Road travel

Ms Duay, I appreciate the call. Choose anyway you want to go to work. I just ask as the law requires that you please be more sensitive to cyclists. You know what I am talking about! Regards

---

From: Richard B. Ehret
Sent: Thursday, June 12, 2014 10:51 AM
To: 'kendra@crescenttitle.com'
Subject: River Road travel

Ms Duay, I ride my bike in the morning for exercise. Since the closing of the East Bank Mississippi River Levee because of the topping work, I, along with others, am forced to ride on River Road for several miles. I am told by the Corps that this levee work will be finished by the fall and the path will reopen but I do not believe much of what the Corps says. On several occasions you have rudely blown your horn for extended periods while we are on River Road  either because cars have not passed us or because you do not think we should be travelling there. Last Tuesday you almost caused an accident at about 8:10 AM when you passed us along with a pick-up truck as River Road turns into Oak Street. I followed you to Crescent Title and was about to call police to lodge a complaint when I decided I should talk to you first. I went by that afternoon to Crescent Title and left my card with an assistant. I have also left you several phone messages. Please call me. Regards    

Richard Ehret
= = = =

1.

 

2.  BMW BEC = Bavarian Motor Works Bicycle Enthusiasts Club

[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.]

Is Orange the New Black?

Sunday's Giro was rather small, about 20 riders, but that was not unexpected with the Tour de Louisiana crit occurring simultaneously on the North Shore. The sparse attendance didn't lessen the intensity one iota, with almost all of the cyclists who usually keep the pace high opting to ride on the South Shore. I'm always puzzled by those who apparently feel compelled to ride every ride like it's a race, the last race, the most important race, and seemingly train for racing, but choose not to participant in the Tour de LA.

Warm up on Lakeshore Dr.

When the group got to the casino bridge, the OWNHB was waiting at the top, which is not unusual. What was unusual was his rolling into the bunch helmetless. Someone asked, "Mike, where's your helmet?" He had evidently left it at the top of the bridge and turned immediately to retrieve it. No one slowed, and we didn't see him again until after the turnaround at Venetian Isles.

The only other thing notable about the outgoing leg of the ride was the tailwind, which kept the pace in the 26 - 29 mph range for much of the ride out. Big Rich was on a fancy new machine: an orange Seven Axiom with a custom decal. The decal says Bosko, the meaning of which is a mystery to me and others. In an effort to unearth exactly what is behind the moniker, I did a little Googling after the ride, and discovered it represents a cartoon character₍₁₎ from the early days of animation, and is not very PC in this century, to say the least. On the final straight-away to Venetian Isles, I was on Rich's wheel and when the pace crept up above 30, Rich shifted to his biggest gear, but his chain remained between gears and started chattering. So, just about 200 meters before we would have normally sat up, a gap opened. Apparently Bosko needs a little fine tuning.

Heading East on Lakeshore Dr.

On the way home, the pace along Chef was reduced somewhat by the SW wind. That was not the case on the service road, and four or five of us got tailed off the bunch making the transition onto the car dealership section and had to chase back to the group on Bullard.

Actually, I may be being a little unfair to Rich, because Bosko could also be intended to denote the coffee shop in Keego Harbor, MI, the I.P.A. made by Pressure Drop Brewery in London, or the pizza joint in Calistoga, CA.

= = =
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.]

Not a Perfect Ride

After the idyllic ride on Tuesday, I was hopeful this morning could be a repeat. The weather was similarly mild and virtually windless, and I was sure the racers would be tapering for the Tour de LA this weekend. The first sign that perfect rides don't come every day was the huge, pink dump truck which nearly ran me over on River Road. There is a stark and very scary difference between these two situations, both of which were encountered on the way to the start: 1) a compact Toyota waiting until the oncoming lane is clear and then straddling the centerline to pass me with eight feet between us; and 2) an incredibly loud, earth-shaking, pink behemoth trying to squeeze between me and a solid line of oncoming traffic. I survived, but my hopes of a repeat were dashed before the ride even started.

Looking downriver from the stables. The next move will end it for city dwellers.

Actually the ride out to Ormond was very much like Tuesday: a smooth 24/25 mph paceline with almost everyone in the rotation. The ride in was something altogether different.

At the Turnaround

By the time we got out to Destrehan, we had grown to more than 20 riders. Woody, who sat in all the way out (thank you Tour de LA), turned shortly after the Luling Bridge and headed back to town immediately. Several other people turned before the benches, and by the time those who rode to the end were rolling again, we were split into several groups with Woody a quarter of a mile up the road intent on getting to work on time. So most of us had to chase immediately almost all the way to the Big Dip. When everything came together again, the pace remained somewhat quicker than the outgoing journey and the southerly crosswind was freshening. But once I was able to recover a bit things were okay until we hit the open area near Williams Blvd., where nothing impedes the southerly crosswinds coming off of the river. For reasons I will never be able to comprehend, some people still apparently haven't grasped the fact that Vega and Ray get out at Williams and when they start softing it as we approach that location, it isn't an invitation to sit in their draft. Gaps started opening, and a group of us (Rich, Tom, Keith N., Scott S., Leann and I) lost contact.

Another thing I probably will never get is why some insist on punishing themselves after getting dropped, riding as if there is some hope of catching the group fading into the distance. Well we punished ourselves all the way to the playground, and I felt thoroughly thrashed when I got home. I jumped in the pool to cool the core and then had to crash on the sofa for an hour before I could get anything productive done.

 [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.]

No Joie de Vivre?

Beyond the threat of rain, which never materialized, Tuesday's levee ride was uneventful. And that was a very good thing. Big Rich described it thusly:

> On 6/3/2014 10:05 AM, Richard B. Ehret wrote:
>
>       Perfect ride
>

Why was it a perfect ride? I'm not certain. I can report that there was no big white van in the parking lot at the start. I can also report that the familiar acronym which south of the Canadian border is usually associated with the organization the Québécois refer to as the Ligue nationale de hockey would aptly describe this particular ride. But I can't be sure that either of these facts are what made it perfect.

There was no wind on the outbound leg and only a hint of it in our faces coming home. The pace was steady and almost everyone stayed in the rotation for the entire ride. Rich's profile shows the smooth and surgeless nature of the morning:

Big Rich's Garmin Profile

But without HL's constant surges and without the OWNHB₁ making unexplainable, zany moves and comments are we losing out on the spice of life which makes us truly feel alive? Are we sacrificing the joie de vivre, that certain exultation of spirit, which is engendered by variety and unpredictability for the bland, unremarkable sameness of a smooth paceline? Do we need HL and the OWNHB?

Naaaaaaah.

= = = 

1. OWNHB = One with no handlebars.

[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.] 

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

= = =
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.]