Friday, October 10, 2008

A Breath of Fresh Air

Written by felix

Felix Wong is an outdoor enthusiast living in Fort Collins. A mechanical engineer by day, he is especially passionate about bicycling, running, and backpacking.

21. More Spring Cleaning

Tuesday, 29 May 2007

This weekend many Northern Coloradoans probably were enjoying the beautiful weather outside and going camping, having BBQs, or watching the Indy 500. In contrast I performed another Memorial Day ritual: cleaning out the house!

Or at least, the clothes closet, which was an utter disaster. One reason for this is there were more T-shirts in there than hangars. Most of these T-shirts I never even wore more than once or twice, if at all. Hence they ended up just being thrown onto a shelf, wrinkles and all.

You may then ask, if I have so many shirts, why did I even buy them in the first place? Well, let me assure you that I didn't! In fact, I loathe clothes shopping so much that I don't do it more than twice a year, which could explain why every time I go out for a jog, I have to do so with holes in my socks.

How, then, did I acquire so many T-shirts? In a word: races. Specifically, running races. For some reason, at almost every organized run (i.e. any run you pay good money for), you get a "free" T-shirt. It doesn't matter if the race is something as trivial as one mile or 5km, you get a buttonless, collarless shirt that my dad likens to "underwear".

How running came up with this tradition is beyond me. I played "organized" T-ball and soccer as a youth, and I don't remember getting anything other than multiple kicks in the shin. (Then again, we always lost.) At bicycling events such as centuries, you usually don't get a jersey -- instead, you get an iron-on patch. (If you wonder what cyclists do with these patches, it is simple: they toss them in a drawer!) At vintage auto shows, participants might get a 1X4" dash plaque, which a few car enthusiasts actually do put on the dash of their vehicles.

But organizers of runs seem compelled to give something away of their own (after jacking up the registration fees accordingly), so they give a T-shirt. The shirts usually in some gaudy color with some boastful words ("MARATHON FINISHER") in order to help mitigate the fact that once the runner actually puts on the T-shirt, he instantly becomes worse-dressed than Jeremy Clarkson of Top Gear.

At least Colorado running events have recently been giving away shirts made of technical, moisture-wicking fabrics such as Coolmax instead of the standard sweat-sopping cotton fare. Then again, the Coolmax shirts make much worse rags. Which used to be one of my primary uses of the shirts.

Anyhow, so to make the closet look less like a hurricane zone, I threw all of those unworn T-shirts into a bag that the Vietnam Veteran Association gladly took off of my hands and threw into their big white truck in exchange for a tax-deductible receipt. Now, whether the Vets (or people who frequent their stores) will want the shirts either is beyond me, lest they look like poseurs for not doing the race the shirt says they were a finisher of.

Here's an idea to the race organizers out there: offer a "no T-shirt" option and lob $5-10 off of the registration fees. Or offer something else, like socks. Now, I could use a pair of those.

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22. The Power of Optimism and Pi

Wednesday, 23 May 2007

The other day, my friend Nick came over in his Isuzu Rodeo, all while being thankful that he was able to make it despite having almost no gas in the tank. How little gas was in the tank? Nick had no idea as the fuel gage sender was dead.

Actually, this is why he had come over in the first place: to enlist my help in swapping it out with a new one. The night before, he had emailed me a procedure he found on the internet and the job seemed simple enough. "No problem," we agreed, "jack up the car, undo four bolts, drop the gas tank, and pull out the old fuel gage sender. Installation is the reverse of disassembly. We'll do it in the morning and then have breakfast."

Meanwhile, Nick's wife Dana speculated the job would take us all day. We laughed. No, shouldn't take more than one-and-a-half hours, we assured her. Piece of cake!

Needless to say, we weren't quite laughing as much when it was time to tackle the job.

First, we spent 30 minutes just trying to figure out how to remove the under-the-car spare tire, which was obscuring the gas tank. Apparently, Nick had never gotten a flat tire before and never had to fumble with the spare.

Next, it seemingly took forever just to remove the four bolts. One bolt was seemingly seized, and I had to bust out an 18"-torque wrench all while repeatedly working my right tricep just to turn the bolt 20 degrees at a time. Repeat, oh, a hundred times.

Then, we had the hardest time removing the fuel-filler hose, squandering about an hour trying to remove a bastardly hose clamp that we Ultimately Did Not Have to Remove. Whoops. With much exhortations such as "bugger" and "crap!", we finally got the hose off.

With the tank now on the ground, we fairly easily swapped out the fuel gage sender. Now it was time to reassemble everything, which I had confidently proclaimed "should go A LOT smoother than disassembly." Wrong! Especially since we had problems aligning the gas tank after bench pressing it in place.

But we did get the job done and afterwards did get to enjoy the breakfast Dana had prepared for us; never mind that by this time, lunch was more appropriate. Total elapsed time: 4 hours 40 minutes. About 3.1 times our initial estimate. It made me remember a simple rule of thumb I had formulated many years ago when estimating the amount of time to do something:

Take your best guess as to how long a job would take, then multiply by pi. For optimism doesn't often trump Murphy's Law.
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23. Missing the Winter

Monday, 21 May 2007

The last couple of months most people seem to have been enjoying the wonderful spring weather and fertile green land everywhere, so I hope I don't sound like a grouch when I say there is something I really miss about winter.

Now, don't get me wrong. I like hanging out in T-shirt and shorts as much as the next guy, and it has been an absolute joy to cruise the countrysides on bicycle or sports car (top down) with regularity again. It seems like almost everywhere I go in Northern Colorado right now, there is a gorgeous vista to behold.

What, then, could I possibly miss about then about freezing temperatures and six consecutive weeks of white powder on the ground?

Let me tell you. No weeding!

It seems like I've been spending an hour a day three or four times a week on my hands and knees pulling weeds, being trigger-happy with Round Up, and laying down new weed barriers and mulch. Yet, for each weed I pulverize, it seems like five more sprout up magically within three days. I am overwhelmed!!!

I'd swear that my measly .18 acre of property has the most pernicious weeds on earth, especially when looking at the other yards in the neighborhood, which seem to be remarkably well-groomed and trouble-free. Ok, so that's because many of my neighbors came up with an ingenious solution to the weed, which is called hiring a professional gardener.

Hmmm, maybe that is not such a bad idea. At least then maybe I wouldn't be so nolstagic for a back yard covered with white stuff and a time when I was wearing fleece gloves instead of leather gardening ones.
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24. Fort Collins Community Bike Fair

Monday, 30 April 2007

In Fort Collins — a bona fide bicycle-loving town — it seems like bike events occur as frequently as Alberto Gonzales says “I do not recall.” On Sunday, there was the Community Bike Fair in Old Town.

I met up with my friends Nick and Dana over there this morning in the hopes that we could find Nick a good deal on a new or used bike. While that didn’t happen, that was the only disappointment of the day, and a minor one at that.

First off, there was sufficient eye candy for even the most hard-core of cycling addicts, including novel two- (and three-) wheelers and gizmos you are unlikely to find at most “normal” bike shops, and certainly not Wal-Mart.

For example, there was a nifty city bike called the Trek Lime that auto-shifted itself through an interesting mix of internal gears and electronics. A speed sensor built within the front hub communicated to the rear hub the appropriate times to up- or downshift via wiring internal to the frame, and when I rode the bike, shifting was flawless and near-seamless. The bike was also surprisingly affordable (considering the technology) at $550. Give Trek a thumbs up for bringing such a unique, unproven idea to a niche market — something large bicycle manufacturers have traditionally been reluctant to do.

My favorite gadget was a bicycle blender. This is because it allowed us to make delicious human-powered smoothies!

The procedure was pretty simple. First, throw in a banana, some frozen fruit, vanilla and honey into a blender that was attached to the rear rack of a bicycle. The blender had a spur gear that pressed against the rear tire sidewall, rotating as the bicycle rider pedaled. After a minute of leisurely pedalling, voila — a cold nutricious drink ready to power your next adventure. Okay, so maybe it isn’t too practical nor nearly as easy as pedaling over to, say, Gelazzi, but I think it is rather ingenious. :)

Even for those who couldn’t care any less about the machines had fun. Take the numerous kids around, for example. Some were hopping up and down like kangaroos within an inflatable playground akin to those you might see in a McDonald’s Kidsland. At noon an obstacle course was setup. Only a few infants plowed straightaway into bright orange cones instead of navigating around them.

Those who HATE bicycles might have even had fun in the Bike Toss! Unfortunately, I did not stick around long enough to watch that.

Perhaps the best part of the event for me, however, was running into friends Jeanne and Laura at the fair and getting to meet their families. It turns out their husbands (both Ironman triathletes) are true cycling nuts as well. I guess in this town, we are in fine company.

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25. FCCC Spring Warm-Up Ride

Monday, 30 April 2007

With Mother Nature and her cohorts The Weather Gods smiling upon us on Saturday, it seemed like the perfect morning to participate in the Fort Collins Cycling Club’s Spring Warm-Up Ride and pedal a bike.

Or bikes, in my case. Let me explain.

First, I rode over to the start at Eldora Park on my lil’ red Cannondale road bike. There I registered ($15 for members, $25 for non-members) and was handed a route sheet and bag of goodies (including a free water bottle and a very cool FCBikes.org flashing rear taillight).

Upon inspecting the map, it occurred to me that the 60-mile course was mostly pancake-flat and never more than moderately rolling all the way to just south of the Wyoming border and back. Meanwhile, back at the park, I also noticed a remarkable number of recumbent bicycles resting on Eldora’s lush lawns, awaiting their owners to moosey away from the free bagels and start some leg-pumping action.

Suddenly I was thinking, “Hmmm, this would be a great ride to have done on my Reynolds Wishbone recumbent.” Of course, it was too late for that since I rode my upright race bike instead…

Or was it?

As luck would have it, right after the first aid station of the day at the Budweiser Visitor Center, the ride meandered within two miles of my home! So I made a brief detour, parked the Cannondale in the garage, mounted the recumbent, and headed back to the route.

Ah, back on the ‘bent. This was the first time I had ridden it in about 9 months, preferring my “regular” bikes in the hilly terrain I usually ride around the Front Range. But it was great to be back in the surprisingly-familiar lawn-chair position, on a “real” seat, hunkered close to the ground like a little sports car. Comfy for sure.

I spent the next few hours like this, leisurely watching the lush Colorado countrysides rush on by, enjoying the breeze, and occasionally exchanging a nod or a few words to other cyclists sharing the road. This time seemed to fly by so quickly that I didn’t even realized I had not eaten anything for 3-4 hours until my stomach started growling.

Unfortunately, the next aid station had no food, only water. On the other hand, about a dozen miles later the course passed right by my my neighborhood, so once again I stopped at my house!

And there I made the second bike swap of the day: this time for my commuter bike. It occurred to me that the bike ride’s finish was only a couple of miles away from my favorite grocery store — the Sunflower Farmer Market — so I might as well fetch some groceries afterwards.

And so there you have it: one ride, three bikes. A first for me! Fort Collins is sometimes referred to as the “Choice City,” and I guess I felt pretty lucky to have this triumverate of options in my arsenal of vehicles today.
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