Spring Forward, Fall Back

One important lesson every beginning mechanic must learn is: "Lefty loosey, righty tighty."

To which I reply, "I before E except after C, and when sounded like A, as in 'neighbor' and 'weigh'."

Also:

Thirty days hath September,

April, June and November.

All the rest have thirty-one, save February,

Which one year in four has one day more.

How can anyone forget that?

United Bicycle Institute - Portland, Oregon

My bike, waiting to board
Amtrak at Portland Station

After a month at United Bicycle Institute in Portland, I'm home again. Our class results will be mailed to us, so I don't know whether I passed the certification test yet. But I will report on my experience now without letting that influence my opinions, or worrying that my comments might affect my results.

The days and weeks of class went by fast. The instructors are knowledgeable and well-organized. They would lecture for an hour or so, then demonstrate how to take apart and reassemble various bicycle components, then turn us loose to work on demo bikes or parts, but were always available to guide, assist and answer questions. Their written exams are open-book and multiple choice, and not too demanding, but as the teachers often pointed out, these days everything is available on the internet. In real life, they said, any mechanic will often see components they've never handled before, and have to search online for instructions or specifications for particular parts, or contact manufacturers or dealers to trouble-shoot.

I already feel more confident about working on my own bikes, although I still would need more training and supervision to work in a bike shop. Probably many people could learn the same material by hanging out in some bike fanatic's garage shop, but I don't know anyone like that and wouldn't feel comfortable loitering in someone's garage, or making a pest of myself in a bike shop - it's just not a welcoming environment for middle-aged women. Most of the other students in the class had more experience than I have, even several years working in very responsible positions in bicycle businesses. I sometimes wondered whether they felt the class was below their level, but they never acted superior. I think they also learned new ways of doing things, or had misconceptions corrected, and often met with instructors after class with more advanced questions.

Classes meet Monday through Friday, 8am to 5pm, with an hour-long lunch break that gave me plenty of time to try out the many very good (but kind of pricey) restaurants on N. Williamson Street. Unfortunately that didn't allow a lot of time for exploring the city, especially after an early autumn storm hit. I had been hoping to escape the first of Bellingham's October drenchings, but I guess it was a big weather system that covered most of western Washington, Oregon and northern California.

St. John Street Bridge, Portland OR

Sometimes I was able to get out for an hour or two after class and ramble ten or twenty miles around nearby streets, which are well-marked with designated bike lanes and routes. On a few weekend days there was enough sun for some 30-40 mile rides, including a ride on the East Esplanade along the Willamette River, and along North Willamette Drive on the bluff above the river.

On one Sunday ride I took a wrong turn-off and ended up riding a short stretch on the freeway, which had a marked bike lane. I kept my cool and made it to the Broadway exit, then rode through the edge of downtown and along a stretch of wide industrial/waterfront roadways. There was very little traffic on the weekend and I even saw several deer grazing in vacant fields and margins near railroad tracks. It wasn't at all the route I'd planned to take but at least I got a good cardiovascular workout.

I crossed back over the river on the St. John Street Bridge and found a small harvest festival street fair in progress in the St. John neighborhood. I liked this area, which is a little more modest and earthy, less upscale (and less expensive) than some of the city's other redeveloped areas. If I get back to Portland I'd like to explore more and get to know it better.

Back to School (again)

This coming weekend I leave for United Bicycle Institute in Portland. I will probably be riding my bicycle in the rain to catch an early train at the Amtrak station in Fairhaven. I'm getting nervous, worrying that I'm not prepared for the class. It's been six years since I took UBI's week-long intro class, and except for about six weeks at the Birch Bay Bike Shop, I've only done basic repairs and maintenance on my own bikes - my old K2 Tradewinds hybrid, my Surly CrossCheck, and my new Cannondale Synapse.

I've been doing a lot of cleaning and housework, including sorting through my collection of bicycle paraphernalia, old parts, and tools. I wrote up a tools inventory and found duplicates of a few things like cable cutters, and an assortment of hex wrenches of different sizes. And a couple of things I've never used and don't recognize (crank puller? free wheel remover?) I guess I'll find out soon.

I also found this collection of old keys, clamps, clips and devices for attaching lights and accessories. Back in my days as a commuter, it took a lot of trial and error to find head and tail lights that would last more than one rainy season. Rain or condensation always seeps in to corrode the contacts, so every autumn I would end up buying a new set. Often the lights came with more than one type of attachment, to give the customer options for mounting. But the fittings are not interchangeable so I'm stuck with a bunch of mysterious, useless black plastic parts.

Would it be possible for designers and manufacturers to invent a universal attachment, maybe using zip-ties? Please?

Free again

I worked through the Labor Day holiday weekend, and have been free for the past three weeks. I quit a bit sooner than I had intended, because soon after I started work I received a summons for jury duty. The store managers said they couldn't schedule around a possible absence on short notice every day for a week (though retail employers typically reserve the right to change schedules on short notice . . . but that's a rant on another subject). Anyhow, they gave me a week of leave, and then it didn't really make sense for me to come back to work for such a short time, so I'm done.

It would have been good to get a few more weeks of pay, but the job was wearing me out. After my first week I started having muscle spasms in my legs at night, which made me wake up gasping and yelling in pain a couple of times. I got in the habit of popping two ibuprofen every night at bedtime, and went to sleep with a cold-pack on my back.

After two nights working ten hour shifts, until midnight, I took four ibuprofen. I know everyone who works restaurant/retail jobs has back trouble and sore feet, but it was more than I could stand.

So I have been rehabilitating myself with yoga two or three times a week, and an "Active Seniors" strength training class. I was assuming "seniors" meant over fifty-five, but I am usually the youngest in the group, though not the most athletic, agile or strongest. We work out with small hand-held weights and resistance bands, plus a little cardio and stretching, which has been good for my knees, back, neck and shoulders. I was beginning to feel a bit over-stretched doing yoga, I needed to build a little more muscle.

And I'm getting out on my bike again, weather permitting. It is turning rainy again already, in between spells of perfect September weather. Yesterday I rode out to Birch Bay again, and wandered around some side roads out in farm country, a lovely cool, sunny, still day. Today it's windy and pouring rain.

The longest rides I've done this summer are only a little over forty miles - I put a cut-out saddle on the new Cannondale because I was getting kind of sore any time I rode more than about thirty miles. Now I'm good for longer distances more often. I haven't quite ridden 2000 miles so far this year - I used to ride 5000-6000 miles a year when I was commuting five days a week. But it's probably good to rest a bit while I figure out my course for the future. My places-to-go list keeps getting longer, not shorter.

The Tale of the Fate of My Univega

Hearing news reports about traffic problems on this Friday afternoon before the Labor Day holiday weekend reminded me of the afternoon more than ten years ago when my first bike, the trusty Schwinn Univega for which this blog is named, was wrecked in a slow-motion fender-bender encounter with a Ford Explorer.

I should probably, for accuracy's sake, check my dates here, but I'm too lazy so I'll just go from memory. As I recall, that was the summer of the build-up for the post-9/11 invasion of Afghanistan, and for months it had seemed to me that drivers were more aggressive than usual. When you ride around on a bicycle in close proximity to cars, you learn that they almost have a body-language like people do, and there was a "just don't cross me" attitude in their acceleration, deceleration and cornering during that time. (I've read that incidences of road-rage, domestic violence and other types of aggression increase during times of political or economic stress, so there probably is data to back me up, but again I'm too lazy to look for it.)

At that time I was working in a business center on Guide-Meridian near Bellis Fair Mall, on a stretch of street that has been rated the worst in the county for vehicle and pedestrian accidents. There is an I-5 overpass with entrances and exits just before the main entrance to the mall. The street is two lanes each way; the south-bound lanes on the mall side have no sidewalk, bike lane or shoulder, just a concrete barrier inches from the edge of the traffic lane. A cyclist on that side of the street would have to ride in the car-lane and cross the four-lane mall entrance, then a merge-lane freeway entrance, ride under the overpass, then cross a freeway exit. On the north-bound side there is a sidewalk broken by many driveways and entrances to strip-malls and small businesses on that side of the street, so there are a lot of cars trying to turn right off the busy street, as well as exiting from parking lots, trying to make right turns, or left turns across two lanes of traffic.

Under normal circumstances it's dangerous to ride on the street on the south-bound mall-side, but after a tense summer, on the Friday of Labor Day weekend, traffic was particularly crazy. When I headed home after work, I rode my Univega on the sidewalk, facing north-bound traffic. Technically, I was riding the wrong direction on the wrong side of the street, but this is legal when there is no safe, alternative bicycle route. There usually weren't many pedestrians on those two blocks, but there are so many driveways that I had to ride cautiously.

At a short but steep down-hill driveway exit between a restaurant and a bank, I encountered the fateful Ford, which was blocking the sidewalk while waiting to make a left turn across Meridian. It had dark tinted windows but I could see the silhouette of the woman driver turning her head left and right, looking for a break in traffic. I waited for a minute or two for her to get out of the way, but traffic was fast and heavy, coming off the freeway and turning from the Bellis Fair exit. After a while the stop-light on Meridian turned green and a large group of cars started toward us from the intersection; it would be some time before the new rush of cars would pass by. I figured the woman in the Explorer must have seen me after looking side to side so many times, so I decided to take a chance on riding around her front end. Unfortunately, just at that moment she also decided to take a chance on making it through a small gap in traffic.

It was a very slow-motion collision. She came forward a bit, stopped, then lurched forward again when I was in the street directly in front of the high, square hood of the Explorer, and I realized she wasn't going to stop again. The grill of the car hit my left hip, and I threw out my left arm, trying to press my hand on to any small finger-hold on the hood of the car. My bike fell to the right in the street as I clung to the hood with one hand, then the Univega's back wheel was ground slowly under the front end of the car, the front end of the bike curling upwards as the back end was crushed, scraping slowly and horribly against the pavement. The Ford stopped suddenly and I fell off into the street, clear of the bicycle.

I got up out of the traffic lane and stood trembling on the sidewalk, while the woman backed up into the driveway, then got out of her car and pulled my half-crushed bike out of the street. I had a shallow scrape on my right hand, and an aching, burning sensation over my left hip-joint. The woman kept saying I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry, over and over until I just wanted to tell her to shut up, she had stopped sounding sincere after the first time. A Bellingham police officer showed up and wrote me a warning citation for riding on the sidewalk (which he later admitted is not illegal). He never even asked the woman for a driver's license and proof of insurance, but he took a report and we exchanged contact information. He reluctantly gave me a ride home after I told him there was no one I could call for a ride. On the way he asked if I had any plans for the holiday weekend, and I said "Well, I was going to go for a long bike ride."

At home I made up cup of herb tea and sat in an armchair with my cat for comfort. My neck was getting a little stiff and I had a mild headache. Once when I glanced across the room at my wrecked bike leaning against the wall, my eyes suddenly welled up with tears though I hadn't been thinking or feeling anything in particular. Later I took photos of the large, dark purple lump that swelled up on my hip; my doctor said it was a deep bone bruise, which was tender for weeks and left a dimple that still shows.

I filed my own accident report, and called the woman who hit me. She said she had a friend who had an old Giant bike she would sell for $30. Later, after I found a used Schwinn for $120, I called her again and she said in a strict, motherly tone, "Then I will give you $50."

"That's damned cheap," I said, angry at her tone more than anything. I ended up writing a rant-letter to her, about how my bicycle was not a child's toy, but my only means of transportation, and I sent copies of the photos of my colorful bruised lump. That's all the satisfaction I ever got.

Decisions, decisions

Full circle: I started this blog in September of 2010, just after returning to Bellingham from Ashland, Oregon where I had taken a one-week class, Bicycle Repair & Maintenance for Women, at United Bicycle Institute. Within a month of my return, I lost my job. Less than a month after that, the managers of my apartment building picked a quarrel with me about keeping my bicycle in the living room of my apartment. This led to five months of legal hassles until finally, in March of 2011, I was evicted. That's how I ended up living here in Ferndale, and working in the coffee shop at the Bellingham Airport. This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, until I could get a real job and move to a nicer apartment in a better location. Instead, I lasted a bit more than two years in the job, and I've been in the same apartment for five years now. My trials, triumphs, rambling thoughts and amusements during this period have been chronicled in this blog.

On the road to UBI-Ashland in August, 2010

After I returned from my dream-tour in Montreal last summer, I didn't really have a plan for the next phase of my life. I spent another dreary winter in Ferndale, then suddenly it was spring again and I still didn't have a plan. During the early part of the summer I was taking short bike-trips around Whatcom County, but mostly I would just wake in the morning whenever I wanted to, then decide what to do with my day.

And so, somewhat impulsively, I have decided to go back to UBI's Portland school in the fall, for their full mechanic's certification course, including week-long courses in wheel-building and suspension repair. I made a list of some 2-3 day bike trips I wanted to take before I left. But then, somewhat impulsively, I put in a job application at the deli and Food Court area of the only grocery store in Ferndale, and was immediately hired for full-time at minimum wage. I figured it would be good to get a few paychecks in the bank before I go back to school, and it would be a useful work-hardening program. UBI's classes meet 8am-5pm five days a week and I was a bit worried about being able to keep to a strict schedule again - it's been a long time.

I am now convinced I cannot make a living at high-volume retail work again, even a marginal subsistence living. The job is very fast-paced, not much heavy lifting, but I'm on my feet all the time, serving one customer after another, cleaning and restocking in slow spells, with barely a chance to take breaks and lunch. At the end of the day I walk home and barely have energy left to fix dinner before bedtime. On days off I can just manage to get to the laundromat and Post Office in Bellingham. I try to get to yoga class when I can. Forty hour weeks were wiping me out, so I asked to have my hours reduced to only 24-30/week, beginning next week. I plan to give notice at the end of August so I can have some time to get organized before I leave for Portland, and also maybe take a few of those fun little bike trips I had planned.

I'm not too sure what my job prospects are post-Bicycle Mechanic School. I expect the hourly wage would be better, but jobs are probably part-time and seasonal. I don't think there's a bike shop in Whatcom County that would hire me - as a customer I'm mostly treated like a nuisance and a flake (which is part of my motivation for going back to UBI). Besides I don't really see myself as a full-time mechanic, and I definitely don't want to end up working in a sweat-shop assembly job building wheels or putting together department store bikes. But food prep and service is useful experience for working with bicyclists, who are hearty, appreciative eaters. And I have many other practical skills, plus good work habits and people skills. And I am independent-minded, creative, adaptable, nothing like a herd-animal.

No turning back from here.

More Tech Talk & Some Travel Tips

Google bikes in Fremont

Last week I loaded my bike on the train for an over-night trip to Seattle. I got free fare with travel points from an Amtrak Mastercharge card, and I stayed at a new hostel in Fremont, which made for a very cheap quick get-away. The hostel room had three bunk-beds, shared with five other women, and bathrooms with shower, sink and toilet down the hall, for only $35 a night. The place is called something like The HotelHotel Hostel, and it was very clean and well-kept, with friendly staff and dramatic decor. The walls are mostly black, there is a glittery crystal chandelier by the front desk, and various funky-chic accents, with a honey bee theme. A cafe and music venue of some kind is on street level, right next to the stairs leading up to the lobby, so there was a lot of street noise even on a Thursday night. Also a 4am wake-up call from the city garbage trucks.

But that's Fremont.

Due to a misunderstanding about bicycle accommodations (my fault), I had to lock up my bike at a sidewalk rack over night, which made me nervous, but I told myself "don't be paranoid, it will be fine, fine, fine" and it was. At least, I think it was.

Union Station in Seattle

I rode about seventy miles over two days, getting to and from the train station and trying out the Burke-Gilman Trail. What with the Bertha tunnel-drilling delay, and various other construction and street improvement projects, Downtown Seattle is a disaster area this summer. I got out as soon as I could, walking my bike up Pike Street, across the freeway overpass to the bottom of Capitol Hill where I found a bike route to the University District, then over toward Fremont. Even in the U-District there are a lot of street repairs in progress, and many direction signs have been vandalized so it's hard to find the way through gaps in bike routes. I visited Gasworks Park and the Ballard Locks, and walked and rode the Burke-Gilman Trail. I braved the Ballard Gap, a very rough and confusing section of the BGT, which Cascade Bicycle Club is campaigning to complete. But I made it to Golden Gardens, for a walk along Shilshole Way and lunch at a cafe by one of the marinas. I used to take summer evening walks to the Coney Island hotdog stand by the public fishing piers at Golden Gardens Park, to get huge soft ice cream cones for a dollar. I was craving fish & chips, but their prices are too high for me now. It was good to see they're still there, though, along with so many of my old favorite haunts, elbow-to-elbow with newer, hipper places.

As mentioned in my previous post, I had done a kind of sloppy job of replacing the chain on my bicycle before I left. The drive train was noisy and raspy, but it worked fine, and I thought it would get better as the new chain settled in.

My spirit animal

Yesterday, back at home and running mundane errands, the chain jammed as I was riding up a hill, and it took a good ten or fifteen minutes of tugging, nudging and poking to work it loose so I could ride home. The poor bike did get dirty and banged around quite a bit on my trip, so today I set up my repair stand in the parking lot out back to give it some TLC. While cleaning the drive train I discovered that when I had put the new chain on, I had missed the guide-tab on one of the little jockey-wheels on the rear derailleur, so the chain was scraping on the outside of the tab instead of being held against the teeth of the cog.

I had used one of those magic gold-link chains that supposedly snap open and closed by hand, if you have strong hands and tough skin. I don't, but I can get old chains open using needle-nosed pliers. On the new chain, though, the gold link was too tight even with pliers. I finally had to use a chain-breaker tool to take out another link, thread the chain through the right way, then rejoin it with a second, used gold link. At least it's nice to know I hadn't cut the chain too short in the first place, and now my bike rides and shifts almost as smooth and quiet as new.

It took about three hours to do my regular, thorough clean-and-tune, plus the time to figure out what was wrong with the chain and fix it. I've learned to be pretty patient and persistent about figuring out mechanical stuff, even if I don't always get it right the first time. Still, all the time I was working, there was a part of my mind thinking someone must have tampered with my bike while it was on the train, or vandalized it while it was parked out on the street over night. And then another piece of my mind was saying, "Don't be paranoid. It's your own dumb fault."