themanfromvan's Bikin' Blog

Cars

Sun, 14 Dec 2008 08:57:38 -0500

Wow !! It's been one hell of a long time since I've even attempted to sit down and type any kind of blog entry. It used to be that people would ask me about why I hadn't written anything for such a long time. I'd always have an excuse. Valid excuses, mind you, but still an excuse. Finally, it got to the point that eveyone quit asking.

Truthfully, I just haven't been as active as I once was. I am ashamed to admit that I rode my bike ony 130 miles the entire year of 2008. That is only 10% of the miles ridden in 2007 !! But, after working 10 hour days and getting home at close to 7 PM every night, I just do not have the ambition to do much else.

So, I bet you're probably thinking, "Okay - he's titled this entry 'Cars' and he's got a picture up of that damn Blazer. I wonder what's up with the 'car' this time?" Well, you're right - the 'car' has struck yet again.

Yesterday, after spending a good deal of the day in the house, staying warm and doing some cleaning, I decided it was time to get outdoors for a while. My plan was to drive down the Coal City road to the intersection of East Sandy Creek Road. I was down there last weekend, on my way to the river, and noticed a road, East Sandy Creek Road, for the first time. It was snowing and I knew from the looks of East Sandy Creek Road last weekend that I would never be able to travel it for it's entire distance. But, I thought if I could pinpoint it's distance from the intersection of the Rockland and Coal City roads, I may be able to find it in my Gazetteer atlas and determine where it goes without actually going there.

Leaving the house about 2 PM, I was wearing jeans, a long sleeve tee shirt, GoreTex hiking boots and a Carhartt work coat. On my person were my wallet, my check book and my all-important camera. Many of you know my disdain for cell phones. While the rest of the family has TracFone's, I refuse to own one. So, there wasn't one of those taking up space in my pockets. Besides, I had no intention of ever getting out of the car until I'd procurred my mileage figure, then I would stop at the Cranberry Mall on my way home to find a Christmas gift for my wife, Betsy.

Away I went, taking in the sights, looking at the trucks, cars and SUV's of deer hunters that were pulled off along the road. The fact that the woods was filled with hunters and I wore no blaze orange only reinterated the fact that I needed to stay in my car. I drove, without incident, to the intersection of Coal City and East Sandy Creek roads, determining it to be 1.5 miles from the Rockland Road.

As I turned around in the last driveway before a sign that read 'No Winter Maintenance', I figured, just for good measure, I'd put the Blazer in 4WD. Even though I'd just come down the same road in 2WD having followed in the tracks made by deer hunters, I thought it would be a good idea, just to make sure the four wheel still worked. I pushed the button and repushed the button. I tried to put the 4WD in while the Blazer was in park, neutral and drive - it simply would not work !!

"Thank God I'm not somewhere that I actually need it," I thought as I drove back towards my starting point.

Suddenly, the Blazer started to sputter and I looked down to see my dash lights flickering. The volt meter on the dash fluctuated between 8 and 14 volts. Knowing I was in trouble, I mashed the gas in an effort to get as close back to civilization before the thing died. Occassionally, the ass end would break loose in the snow and I'd have to let off the accelerator. Watching intently as the gauge dove to 10 volts and stayed there, I knew I was running on the battery only and didn't have much time before my SUV would die.

Miraculously, I made it back to my intersection and the vehicle quit as I stopped at the stop sign. Fortunately, it couldn't have happened at a better place. Number one, I was off the main road and second, there was a repair shop only 300 yards away. Yeah - believe it or not - there are automotive garages in the middle of Podunk for the people who live on the outskirts of Podunk !! I was mad - I was hot - but the 20 degrees temp and the 18 MPH winds still chilled me to the bone as I trapsed through the snow to Jay's garage. My teeth chattered so badly that I could not even swear under my breath.

I'd never done business with Jay before, but after introducing myself and telling him how I'd gone to high school with his younger brother's and sister, he put me in the garage with a cup of hot coffee as his employees went down with another battery and a tow strap to get the Blazer back to where it could be worked on inside.

Two hours, a new battery, a new alternator and a serpentine belt later, I was back on the road headed home. No need to stop at the mall now as my checkbook was now overdrawn by $130 for the repairs. But, Jay assured me he'd keep the check until I called and told him it was alright to take it to the bank.

Cars - yeah, we can't live without 'em - we can't live with 'em. As I write this the fate of the American auto industry lies in the hands of our federal government. In 1979 the song Cars was considered 'strange'. Let's face it folks, everything about cars is pretty unusual.

Do You Compute?

Sun, 6 Jan 2008 18:35:04 -0500

On late winter's night back in 1981, I was on my way home in my old 1966 Chevelle. Having just left the home of my then girlfriend/now wife, my teeth chattered in the car's frigid confines. Not exactly the most airtight of vehicles, tiny snowflakes infiltrated the floor boards and it was all the defroster could do to keep ahead of the ice crystals that formed on the inside of the windshield. In an effort to keep warm and take my mind off the bone chilling ride, I tuned the primitive radio to the only AM station that it would pick up. Back then an iPod was where a guy with a glass eye stored his prothesis at night.

Every Saturday night at 11 PM, our local station would play a featured album. Some were old, some were new - but in most cases, none were very good. This night was an exception, though, and I cranked up the radio as the strains of 'Ah, Leah !!" by Pittsburgh's own Donnie Iris sounded through the Chevy's cheap, distorted speakers. Somehow I thought if the music played loudly, it would generate heat that would soothe my stinging skin. As soon as I heard the ripping guitars, the layered vocals and Donnie's trademark scream, I was an immediate fan. Now some 27 years later, I've owned every song Iris ever recorded on LP, cassette and now CD. I've seen him live many, many times.......

As you know, it's been about three months since I've made a post in this blog. I could lay the partial blame on job schedule conflicts and of course you know about me banging up my hand, which put a kibosh on most outdoor activities for quite a while. I can type now and straighten out my finger, but I must admit that it still hurts a little bit. Really, I probably should have had it medically examined when I injured it, but due to lack of medical insurance at the time, opted to just 'let it heal'.

So here it is, January 6th, 2008. I turned 46 years of age yesterday and my Dad would have been 79 today. My bike is stored in it's winter home in the basement with 1084 miles on the odometer for the year. Our family's camper is resting quietly in my Mother's garage until another season comes upon us. Other than a few walks in the woods, most of my time has been spent in front of a new computer that we purchased a week before Christmas. A far cry from the photo of the Apple computer on the cover of Donnie Iris' 1982 album cover, the monitor is as large as the first TV Betsy and I bought just before our wedding. The photo you see at the beginning of this entry was snapped about 45 seconds before I started to type and I am listening to a CD that I 'ripped' and 'burned' from one borrowed from my sister less than 24 hours ago. The music sounds pure and sweet from the computer system's tiny speakers perched atop the desk. No pops and crackles like the tweeters in that '66 Chevelle. And what's more amazing is that 26 years after I first heard the grinding rock n' roll of Donnie Iris, I'm listening to the light hearted sounds of the '70's Swedish group, ABBA !!

In the same amount of time as it's been since I popped the clutch of that old Chevy to leave for home that night in 1981, it'll be the year 2034. I'll be 72 years of age and hopefully living a life of retired leisure. My children will be in their mid '30's and God willing I'll still be pedaling bicycles and sleeping on the unforgiving mattresses in that pop up camper with my wife of 50 years. I'll be playing 'air accordian' along with Lawrence Welk while I listen to 'bittlefuggers' on my 'U-top'.

Ana one - ana two.......Do you compute?

Haven't Got Time For The Pain

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 19:41:23 -0500

"I haven't got time for the pain. I haven't the need for the pain. I haven't the room for the pain." Boy, Carly Simon sure said a mouthful when she crooned those memorable lyrics back in 1974.

So, you've probably already guessed that I'm still in rehabilitation from my little face plant a few weeks ago. Yes, there is significant improvement, but I still can't straighten my finger out. Every night, I sit and work the finger in both directions. I am totally convinced that nothing is broken, but I overstretched some ligaments or tendons or whatever the guts in your hand are called. So, I guess all I can do is keep 'stretching it out' by bending the finger back and forth with my left hand. I am typing, with some difficulty, the correct way. Reaching that damn 'Y' key is still quite a challenge.

This post is going to be short and sweet, just like the past couple. I really haven't been able to do much. Between 'the finger', early darkness and seasonal allergies, I've pretty much been a couch potato. Work is going well and as you can see from the picture this week, it is AUTUMN !! The fall foliage is spectacular !! Today, I got the treat of being given a 170 mile joy ride at work. My trek took me through the Allegheny National Forest on the way to Ridgway. It was all I could do to stay on the 'direct' route. I considered a ride down through Hallton, Belltown, Clear Creek State Park, Sigel and Cook Forest State Park, but didn't take it. Instead, I came home through Marienville, like a good boy, although a side trip to the Cook Forest fire tower was a REAL temptation. I was not led into temptation, though.

I hope, really-really hope, I can give you the details of some activity other than watching the leaves change by my next entry into the blog. I don't know if I look it, but I certainally feel 'plumper' than I did a few weeks ago. Don't know what I'll do once the snow starts flyin' !! Well, I'll see you later - gotta get a beer and candy bar.

Colour My World

Thu, 18 Oct 2007 20:50:24 -0500

In the past week, I've had numerous questions and comments. "David, where's your blog post?", "Aren't you writing in your blog anymore?". My mother has even received phone calls asking the same question.

The truth of the matter is, I am still in pain with my hand and am having extreme troubles typing. I can type with kind of a "modified" method. Typing with the left hand is not a problem, but can not reach the "Y" or "H" keys with my shortened, smashed right index finger. In all honesty, I probably should have had it examined by a doctor last week. It is getting better, but still turns green by the end of a day's work. Despite being somewhat swollen, I can bend it pretty good now. However, I can not straighten it out and therefore can't reach with it to catch the keys as I type.

I am really trying to limit the amount of typing that I'm doing because I don't want to get in the habit of it and not be able to type correctly once I can use the finger again. One thing I'll never regret is taking two years of typing class while in high school. Besides being one of the few guys in with a bunch of teenage girls, typing is an attribute that's come in handy throughout my life. Oh, and being the teachers paperboy counted a long way toward getting a good grade. You better believe Mrs. Ziegler's daily news was always dry and on time !!

The fall foliage, as you can see from the photo above, is spectacular this year. While a little late in it's peak because of the unusually warm weather we've had, the colors are unlike anything I've seen in several years. Right now, all the maple trees are very unusual looking as the undersides of the leaves are red or yellow and the tops are still green. The effect this creates when the leaves rustle in the breeze is beautiful.

Looking out at our local landscape reminds me so much of the painter, Bob Ross. You know, the afro-headed guy who had the artist instructional show on PBS? It was so amazing to see him paint a fall landscape, the way he haphazardly smeared the paint on the canvas with a brush. Everytime he'd take that dry brush and "dust the colors out", I'd about have a heart attack that he was gonna ruin what he'd just done. I'm sure there were other people, like me, who waited for him to exclaim an "Oh shit !!" as he took the canvas from the easel and pitched it in the corner.

Well, hopefully with some rehabilitation and therapy, I'll be able to do a little better with the typing, as well as gain some new ideas to convey my words. It's been tough to concentrate or conjure up any new thoughts lately.

Enjoy you 'coloured' world !!

Freefallin'

Thu, 11 Oct 2007 20:03:24 -0500

Howdy !! Howdy !! Better late than never, as they say. But, as you will soon learn, I have an excuse this time. What I do not have an excuse for, though, is the fact that the bike has not moved in several days and will not move for several more......

So, now you're probably thinking, "Oh my God, we have a blog post titled 'Freefallin' and a picture taken from high above some cliff or rock or something. What did that dumbass do now?"

Well, I did not pull a stunt quite as drastic as bungee jumping or hang gliding or anything like that, but I did do some 'freefallin' of my own last weekend. Allow me to elaborate.

All last week, we watched the weather like a hawk. We wanted so badly to be able to camp one more time before our little pop up was to be put to bed for the winter. Our first obstacle to clear was the fact that Olivia had to have two baby teeth pulled to make way for her permanent teeth. We did not know how she would do with that. I've had teeth pulled and I sure didn't feel like doing much for a couple of days afterward. But, true to her 'tough cookie' form, you'd never know she had anything done. So, that left the weather as our only hurdle before weekend plans were made.

Now, you know yourself that extended weather forecasts are about as dependable as..... well, as an extended weather forecast. But, lo and behold - throughout the week the prediction never changed. Sunny - summerlike - temps in the low 60's and highs in the 80's. It seemed too good to be true. Not only that, Betsy had Friday scheduled as a vacation day already, to avoid being in town on the first day of Applefest, which makes downtown Franklin look like the crowd at a Willie Nelson concert. Besides that, our kids had no school that day. "Why," you ask. Well because of Applefest, or course !! I don't really see the logic, but it worked to our advantage, so I'm not bitchin'!!

Despite not being hardly one iota packed on Friday morning, we were on the road by about 1 PM. The Blazer was packed to the gills with our belongings and the camper purred along behind us. We pulled into Chapman State Park to find the place nearly empty. Our favorite spot was open, but we circled the campground a couple of times, seeing if we just might want to try a different site. In the end, though, we backed into that favorite spot and proceeded to make it into our own real estate.

Upon completing a quick set up, we went on a short hike with, Heather, the park naturalist, who explained how plants and animals are getting ready for winter. We walked along the lake, which shimmered in the sunlight. Leaves fluttered down upon us and the ferns, once stunning green, shook their brown, dying leaves in the wind. In one spot we found a large red oak tree that had fallen across the path. The park's maintenance crew had cut it up in nice two foot long pieces, that just begged to become red hot coals on which to cook.

The kids played on the playground, I strung our 'tacky lights' on the awning and a few more campers straggled into the grounds. The sunset was spectacular and by 8 PM the sky was filled with millions of stars. It was like heaven.

Saturday dawned and or course I was up before most everyone else in the park. I started a nice campfire to heat our water and fry our sausage. I sat and watched it burn. In the back of my mind was that firewood down by the lake. So, I made a trip through the woods and retrieved a couple of pieces, one for each hand. Onto the fire they went and the straggly, hairlike folicles on it's partially rotted exterior caught fire immediately. By the time everyone else arose, the fire was perfect for cooking. The smell or our sausage patties filled the air and folks walking by our site flared their nostrils and took in it's aroma.

Saturday afternoon, we made our way to the park's beach to meet Heather, who's program that day was a canoe trip on the lake. It was beautiful as we paddled along - Betsy, Robert and I in one canoe and Heather, Olivia and Elizabeth in another. Heather was estatic that we showed up for the program, as it got her out of doing odd, labor intensive jobs within the park. Robert, who often looked puzzled at the canoe we have tucked in the shed, was beside himself with excitement as we slid gracefully through the lake's headwater stream.

Later in the afternoon was a geocaching hike, which Betsy and the kids went on. I elected to stay behind, though. For what reason, I'm not sure. I took my place in my chair, thinking about that firewood again.

So, off I went down through an empty campsite to get to the spot where the logs lay. I gathered up my two pieces, one for each hand, hoisted them over my shoulders and began my trek back through the woods. Upon reaching campsite 12, I proceed to climb a short embankment, which goes up into the site. On the ground was some 'Creeping Charlie' or some kind of bastardized viney plant. I felt my feet getting entangled in it's growth and began to fall forward. Instinctively, I put my hands forward to break my fall. The two red oak logs did 360's in the air, and as I planted my palms in the pea gravel, each log fell on top of each hand.

The pain was intense. I rolled on the ground, I swore, I winced. I looked around to see if anyone had seen me. Then I rolled and swore some more. If I'd have had one of those 'Life Alert' pendant thingies, I'd have pressed the button and screamed, "I've fallen and I can't get up !!" After a while the pain subsided somewhat and I gather up my logs (no sense in making the trip in vain) and retreated to the campsite. There, I surveyed my injuries.

The left hand hurt the worst, but the right hand had a nice stab wound from a sharp edge on one of the logs. As my hand swelled and swelled, blood seeped from the puncture. By the time Betsy and the kids returned, I was still bleeding. Unbeknownst to me, both my knees were skinned, too.

We did our best to stop the bleeding and bandaged the hand in gauze from our first aid kit. Later that evening, we made our way to Jakes Rocks, where the picture you see above was taken. I drove left-handed and did my best to move the right one around, so it wasn't in they way. At the rocks, we hiked, took pictures and Robert scaled some of the smaller boulders.

When we returned to the campground, I exited the car to find blood, which had soaked through the gauze, had stained one of my favorite pairs of shorts. Betsy doctored me back up and I took my place back by the fire. In a fit of frustration, I heaved the logs that had fallen on my hands onto the blazing fire. We'd be going to bed shortly, but I wanted the satisfaction of watching them catch fire and meet their demise.

By Sunday morning, my hand looked like a - hell, I can't even describe it - but it was about twice it's normal size. My index finger, which 1/3 of is missing, was plumped up like a Ball Park frank on a hot grill. With some struggling, I managed to get the girl's bicycles on top of the car. More help than usual was required to get the camper torn down and the roof lowered. But, by 4 PM we were on the road and on our way home. The hand continued to bleed a little.

So, here it is Thursday, several days later. Well, I'm not bleeding !!! But, the hand is still swollen and turns a lovely shade of green as I work my 10 hour days. I have not gone to a doctor or hospital, but everyone I show it to has a medical opinion. Some say it's broken, but I insist it's not as I can bend my fingers...... Let me restate that, I can move my fingers...... it's not broken, dammit, I don't have time for a broken hand !!!

Typing? Well, I've spent over an hour typing everything you've just read. Fingers on the home keys just don't work. But, my work week is over and I am going to nurse my injuries by holding ice cold bottles of beer for extended periods of time. So, until my next post, I promise to stay out of the woods and leave the firewood for somebody else !!

Seasons In The Sun

Mon, 1 Oct 2007 20:46:52 -0500

All week long I have wracked my brain for songs from the 1970's about fall or autumn. Tonight, I finally had to admit my defeat and turned to my ulimate source of knowledge of pop and rock music, the Internet. Yeah - I'm going to admit, I have to do that from time to time. This isn't the first either. But, you know, usually I have an idea. I sometimes just need help on how to run with it. So, when I decided the musical library in my head was closed, I pointed my web browser's finger to "Bookmarks" and brought up my favorite search engine, Dogpile. In the search box I typed the words "fall autumn song lyrics 1970's" and hit the "Go" button. Ha !! That method rendered nothing. But with some patience and perserverance, I eventually found a site that listed the top 100 songs from 1970 - 1979.

"This has gotta net me something," I thought, I want a song about seasons or weather or sunshine or something....."

As a teenager, I used to hang out at a friend's house who had sister who absolutely adored the song "Seasons In The Sun" by Terry Jacks. Tim and I used to laugh at it as the ultimate teenie-bopper song, given our preference for Elton John and Bachman-Turner Overdrive, during that era. Now, nearly 35 years later the song's reverberating organ and bubblegum lyrics clearly describe my activities of the past couple of days.

Somehow this song seemed to fit the mood and events of the week. The calendar may say we have transitioned into autumn, but the weather has changed very little in the past few weeks. The nights are a bit cooler and darkness in coming earlier, but the days are sitll filled with abundant sunshine and rainfall has been minimal. The leaves on the trees are beginning to change and from what I can tell so far, the fall foliage may be the best in several years. One noticeable thing is the leaves on the cherry trees are dropping rapidly. This must be brought about by the lack of rainfall and as you can tell from the photo above, they are already creating a thick blanket on the ground.

Saturday was spent manning the information booth at the Saltbox House, which is situated at the Franklin trailhead of the Allegheny River trail. It was an absolutely gorgeous day and as I took in the outdoors from the front porch of the Saltbox, I could not believe the lack of folks using the trail that day. I only had 7 visitors at the Saltbox, but every one of them was from out of town. Three had even spent the night in a motel to get the most of their cycling weekend. I did my best to provide information to all who asked and even managed to garner a few donations toward trail upkeep. I found a journal in the book rack at the Salt Box, written by a couple from Franklin who had ridden along the Mississippi River on a tandem bike, from Canada to Louisana. It was very interesting reading, but I did not get to finish it. Perhaps a reason to volunteer in the future.

Sunday afternoon, I did hit the Allegheny River Trail on my favorite stretch, between Emlenton and Kennerdell. In all I rode 26 miles that day, through the Rockland tunnel but turning around just short of the Kennerdell tunnel. Unlike being upstream the previous day, there were people everywhere !! Bikers, walkers, joggers, rollerbladers. And the river bustled with the activities of boaters, canoeists and fishermen. It was great to see others out enjoying the last hurrah of summerlike weather.

Well, I'm getting to the point where everytime I ride, I take a picture of the total miles on the cyclocomputer, just in case - just in case, it's the last time the bike sees any activity for the year. Yes, it's true that I did ride on Christmas Eve in 2006, but I'm making the most of these 'Seasons In The Sun' by mentally noting the changes and realizing that soon, and without warning, the snow will fly. It is inevitable.

"We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sun, but the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time.........."

Long Time

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 20:17:48 -0500

Do you remember the rock band, Boston? If you are a 40ish type person or listen to radio stations who tout playing "great oldies and the hits of today", I'm sure you are familiar with their music. Their first album actually hit the stores on this day in 1976. Thirty one years later it remains the best selling debut album of all time. The music contained in it was very cutting edge at the time, with guitar and vocal tracks intrically layered on one another. As a teenager, I sat with my cheap electric six string and learned the songs, thanks to a tabulature book purchased from our local music store.

I've chosen "Long Time" as my music this week for two reasons. The first is the fact that I finally, yeah finally, racked up my 1000 mile bike riding goal for the year on Sunday, September 23rd. When I think back, it seems like a very short time ago that I was telling you about my first ride on my new bike. Memorial Day weekend seems like only an eyeblink ago, now here it is, nearly October.

My monumentous occasion happened on what was supposed to be a group ride with my cycling group. At 1 PM, I sat waiting to see if there would be anyone with me when I knew my goal would be acheived. I was pretty sure one companion would be along, that being Lisa. So I sat and waited for her arrival. Sure enough, after about ten minutes, she came along and we proceeded on our way down the Allegheny River Trail. As it happened, she too was poised to roll 1000 miles for 2007 that day.

We made our way down the trail, heading downstream toward Indian God Rock. The intended route of the ride was to be up the stairs at the Belmar Trestle and down the other side of the river on the Sandy Creek Trail. But with neither one of us feeling ambitious enough to drag our bikes up the stairway, decided to remain on the river trail. We both wondered what our cyclocomputers would do when 1000 miles was reached. Despite each of our odometers being different makes, both appeared to go to only three digits.

"Will it roll over to 000?" Lisa asked me, "Am I going to have no proof that I actually put in the other 999 miles?"

I assured her that we would both pay attention and document the 999's on both our bikes with my ever present camera, because we both were confident that 999 was as high as they went.

Along the way we encountered numerous other trail users. All were on bicycles, no walkers. Several people stopped us to ask for information, which we gladly gave. Unbeknownst to me, I was in for a surprise at the infamous trail break at an area called Sunny Slopes.

Sunny Slopes is a river community, just upriver from the Kennerdell Tunnel. For some reason, the ownership of the rail bed reverted back to the landowners here when the railroad was abandoned. One individual elected to excavate his yard down through the right of way, and later a new home was built right in the middle of where the tracks once were. In the past, riders could bypass this mess by traveling an access road, up behind the homes and cabins in the village. Granted, for the most part, it is not ridable. But, you could still push your bike the 3/4 mile back to where the trail resumed.

On Labor Day weekend, I actually approached this area coming the other direction - upstream. When I got to the end of the trail there, I encountered a group of people with chairs set up on the trail. There has been a travel trailer sitting at this spot for several years, but this time there were people there. A dining fly was set up, along with a tent. A man sat in a chair, holding a leashed pit bull/boxer looking dog. It was obvious they did not want me to encroach upon their compound that day.

Lisa and I pushed our bikes along the road to the end where this trailer sits. The people, and more importantly, the dog, were not there this time. Instead, we met other bikers inquisitively reading a sign taped to a barrel. What the sign told us was we had just trespassed on private property on our journey to the spot. We just looked at each other, as I had no idea the situation had changed. I then understood the defiant looks of the group I encountered on Labor Day. I wondered what the guy holding the dog would have done had I attempted to pass through their encampment. All I can figure is this particular property has changed hands this summer and the new owner has chosen to join his one or two unfriendly neighbors in an attempt to put a kibosh on the trail.

We continued on to and through the Kennerdell tunnel, as Lisa had never been there before. I knew what to expect, she did not and the nervousness in her voice was apparant as we approached the tunnel's upstream entrance. With some coaching, she made it through. I must admit, though, that her voice quivered somewhat as it echoed within the tunnels dark, chilly confines.

Finally, at mile marker 18.5, we decided we'd better turn around and head back. I didn't say anything to her, but I wondered to myself what we'd do if the people and the dog decided to come around before we got back through Sunny Slopes. We monitored our mileage, waiting anxiously for the 1000 mile mark to be reached. As I pedaled along, I began to calculate where we were in relation to my reaching 1000 miles. I feared that my one grand was going to happen during our return voyage through the tunnel, which would have made it impossible to capture with the camera. But, my fears were unfounded as 999 happened about 200 yards from the tunnel's downstream entrance.

"Three quarters of a mile through this tunnel, I should roll 1000 shortly outside the other end," I thought. I snapped a photo of 999, because I really thought the thing was going to go back to zero. But, as I pedaled along, I watched the cyclocomputer like a hawk, not caring what was around me or if I creamed someone coming the other way. Suddenly, magically, the digits flipped "000" only with a "1" in front of it. WOW !! I did it, and it didn't go to "000". Now Lisa was curious if her's was going to behave in the same manner.

Sure enough, about 3.5 miles later, we stopped to document with the camera her 1000 mile achievement, as her odometer expanded to 4 digits!!

At a little area called Astral, where I had parked my car, we bid our adieus to one another. She had parked in Franklin, an area more familiar to her. My trip meter read 29.4 miles for the day. By my calculations, she should have about 38.4 miles and surpassed my mileage total of 1009.

Yeah, it was a good time. A little living on the edge while we trespassed on private property. A little spookiness as we traveled through the cool, dark underground recesses of the tunnel. And the satisfaction of reaching our cycling goals. Doesn't get much better than that, does it?

Say, can you think of another reason I've titled this entry "Long Time"? I certainly hope you've been able to read it faster than I was able to type it !!

Cool Change

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 20:46:08 -0500

I'll bet you were beginning to think that there would be no blog entry this week, didn't you? I must say it's been a hectic past few days with school, work and an orientation meeting for Tiger Cub Scouts last night. Yeah !! My son is going to be a scout !! Can you believe it? A proverbial 'chip off the 'ol block'.

Once again, I have no bicycling activities to report. Shame on me !! With my work days being longer and the days getting shorter, it just hasn't been in the cards, I'm afraid. To make matters worse, there is a group bike ride of about 22 miles this coming Sunday and I'm afraid I may not be up to the task. I'm sure I'll get it done, but may feel the effects come Monday morning. One thing for sure. I'll get to that 1000 mile paramount before my next blog entry.

Just because cycling has not been in the activity schedule for a couple of weeks does not mean I've been in the house vegetating. In fact, last weekend we packed up and traveled to Parker Dam State Park for two nights of family camping. The weekend had been booked and the site reserved for several months, but the weather looked very "iffy" all week. Besides that, allergy season has kicked in early this year, probably brought about by the unusally dry summer we've experienced. Olivia began coughing about Wednesday and I even had a sore throat for a couple of days. But, since the site was paid for, the show went on as planned.

By 7 PM on Friday night, we were sitting within the confines of our camper at Site 25. We ran through rain during our travels east on the way to the campground, so we figured the weather would catch up to us eventually. We were right. By nightfall, it was sprinkling and showers passed through off and on all day on Saturday. Not a total wash out, mind you, but enough to dampen things from time to time. We still managed to get in all of our "Parker Dam" activities, though, like crossing the rocks below the outflow of the dam and visiting the playground.

Olivia and Robert discovered one of my favorite past times as a child. Climbing trees. Across the road from the campsite was a large pine tree with low branches that were close together, perfect for short little arms and legs to scale. I also figured pine was a good choice for their introduction to tree climbing as I hoped the sweeping branches would cradle them should either one happen to fall. By the time we departed, they had ascended and descended that tree a couple of hundred times. Robert collapsed into his bed Saturday night, tuckered out from a day of climbing not only trees, but some large boulders down near the lake.

All in all, it was a peaceful, lazy weekend. Just the way we like them. A particlarly friendly group of campers behind us invited us over for some games of ladder golf and conversation. We laughed when one of the ladies in the group got one of the "golf balls on a string" caught in a tree branch earlier in the day. Lo and behold, didn't my first toss come millimeters from catching the same branch !! On Sunday morning, before we began packing up, one of the ladies brought over a plate full of freshly ried apple fritters. Delicious !! Robert reciprocated with a hand made "Thank You" card made from the construction paper and markers that are stashed in the camper. The lady's heart melted as Robert handed her his creation and mumbled a sincere "Thank You".

Sunday dawned a beautiful day after a night of frigid temperatures. Our camper's propane furnace ran nearly non stop overnight and we cuddled together in our bunks, not letting the cool air get the best of us. I don't have a thermometer in the camper or the car, but I am guessing the air temperature was in the low 40's on Sunday morning. The cool conditions just made those apple fritters that much more yummy and double doses of coffee and cocoa took the chill from our bodies.

Finally, the time came to break camp and get ready to head home. Elizabeth helped with the pack up as Olivia and Robert headed back to "their tree" to watch our activities from a bird's eye view. We took one last walk around the campground and bid our goodbyes to the new friends we had made that weekend. At 4 PM, one hour after 'check out' time, we piled in the Blazer and pulled away from Site 25. Surprisingly, no one slept on the return trip and the 78 mile distance was covered pretty quickly. Upon our arrival home, the kids 'hit the showers', with Olivia having oodles of tiny pine needles in her thick, curly hair.

It's my hope to get one more weekend of camping in before we declare the season over. But, like so many other things, we'll wait and see. So, for now, I'll say 'so long'. Next week I'll be typing with aching muscles and bones from the bike ride on Sunday. I can't wait !!

Let It Roll, Down The Highway

Sun, 9 Sep 2007 21:18:03 -0500

Bachman Turner Overdrive, also known as BTO, was another one of my favorite bands while growing up. Spawned from the Canadian band, The Guess Who, their straight-forward rock and roll was a staple of the 1970's. Over the years, they churned out hits like "Hey You" and "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet". My musical memory for this week, however, revolves around their hit "Let It Roll, Down The Highway".

The first thing I have to tell you is that the bicycle barely moved in the past seven days. I had really hoped to acheive my "1000 miles for the year" and be able to tell you about it. But, I rode only 22 miles the entire week and am 19 miles short of that "one grand". I was hoping to sneak those miles in today, between church and a family reunion. But, upon waking to a gentle rain this morning, knew that it wasn't to be. I suppose a die hard would have donned a rain poncho and put in the miles anyway. But, I really don't care to get wet and don't like the havoc that rain and dirt play on a bike's moving parts.

I've chosen my BTO classic because of a road trip I took on September 7th. I decided on Friday morning to venture to a state park, check it out and assess it's campground. The park is named Sizerville State Park and is located in the mountains of central Pennsylvania near a little town called Emporium.

Betsy used to work with a girl who called Emporium her home town. She touted the attributes of this park and it's campground, even claiming that country music superstar, Kenny Rogers, spent time there just to "get away from it all". When I asked this woman, "How far is it?", her answer on every ocassion was "oh - only 60 or 70 miles". Every time I traced a route to it on a map, though, I could not figure out how it could possibly be such a short distance. But, I reasoned that I must be missing something as I thought that someone who travels there to go "home" must surely know how far it is.

On Friday, when I decided that I was going to make this trip, I spread a state map out on the bed and proceeded to determine the best route to Sizerville. It was a frustrating process because regardless of which of the several available routes I traced, none of them was particularly direct. Every option had me "going south to go north". But, in the end, I chose what I felt to be the best way to go. I jumped in the car, directions in hand, an headed to the local convenience store for a cup of coffee, a doughnut and a tank of gas. Then, away I went.

Nearly three agonizing hours and 108 miles later, I stopped at the park's entrance to take the picture you see above. I drove a half a mile back to the park's office, got a map and talked briefly to the woman inside. As I looked around, I was impressed with the appearance of the park. Unlike other PA state parks, every blade of grass was mowed, even the ones around the trees. Beautiful beds of flowers dotted the area, not a weed to be found in any of them. Not to slam my home state, but for a minute I was not sure I was in Pennsylvania.

As I exited the park office, I noticed a khaki clad individual enter the nature center, right across the road. So, I decided to venture over and see what kind of insight this person could give me into the place. Sorry, I don't remember the girl's name, but she was the park's naturalist. Her thin build and red braided hair reminded me of the girl who is the Little Debbie snack cake logo. Very imformative and very friendly, she gave me all the logistics of the the park and the campground. She, like many of the people I'd talked to at other campgrounds about the place, kept mentioning "the road".

"The campground's kind of close to the road," she reiterated.

When I got to the campground, I marveled at it's condition. Every one of it's 23 sites had a mixture of sun and shade, every one of the sites was level and all looked to be easy to back into. It almost seemed to good to be true !! One thing bothered me, though. Here it was, 2 PM on a Friday afternoon, and the place was empty. Granted, it is after Labor Day, but there was not a single soul in the campground.

Suddenly, I heard this God awful, hellatious noise that got louder and louder. It sounded kind of familiar to me, but different in these surroundings. As it got closer, I recognized the sound. It was a truck, an eighteen wheeler, jake braking down a hill. Upon closer investigation, I found this hill, and the highway it was on, to be only about 20 feet from the back of the campground. Our house, our home, which is along a major US highway, is farther from the road than these campsites. I guess I wasn't the only one rollin' down the highway that day.

"Shit," I mumbled, "I should have known it was too good to be true."

"If Kenny Rogers really did camp here it's no wonder his hair was gray at age 30," I mused.

From there I half heartedly inspected the rest of the park. Like the areas I'd already explored, I found the hiking trails to be well marked and the ampitheater to be mowed and trimmed. The restrooms were spotless and well stocked. But, I knew from living right along the highway that having some 2X4's, siding, sheetrock and insulation between you and a screaming Peterbilt is a lot different than just a layer of tenting. I left the park a little disappointed and twerped that I'd fried $25 worth of gas to get there.

Traveling home, I passed through the town of St. Marys, PA. This little eye blink of a town holds some significance to me as it is the home of Straubs Brewery, the makers of my favorite beer. After two trips around the block, I found the entrance to their gift shop where I picked up a shirt and a hat. Down in front of the plant, was a little drive thru beverage operation with only one choice of merchandise. Straub beer sold for $11.50 a case there. Here at home the same case costs $19.75. Reasoning that I was paying nearly half price, I bought two cases !!

Rolling on down the highway, I passed through towns like Boot Jack and Challenge. The real challenge was staying out of those cases of ice cold brew as I traveled along. As I passed through the town of Brockway, I noticed a sign pointing to the Clarion-Little Toby rail trail. I'd heard of it, but did not realize I'd be passing near it, nor did I know the logisitics of it. As I walked one mile along it's packed gravel surface, I passed neatly kept estates and ponds covered with water plants. I wished I'd have brought the bike along, but knew I was probably better off as I sweltered in the 90 degree heat.

By 7 PM, I flicked on my left turn signal to swing into the driveway. With my side trips and the few times I circled the block, looking for the brewery, I'd traveled 228 miles. I tried to imagine how the kids would have weathered such a long journey. Somehow, I knew my nerves would be very frazzled at that point, had they been in the back seat. My cache for the day was some new clothes and 768 ounces of good brew.

"Not a total loss," I thought.

Let it roll, down the highway.....

Working For The Weekend

Mon, 3 Sep 2007 18:13:20 -0500

When MTV was introduced in the early 1980's, I used to spend quite a bit of time watching the limited amount of videos offered by this new phenomenon. I was not married at the time and still lived in my parent's home. My mother took a keen interest in these videos that I was watching, examining the content of each and every one. Finally, one day she decided to speak her mind about the fad.

"They're brainwashing you," she said.

Of course, being an all-knowing 19 year old, I copped an attitude and asked bluntly what she was talking about.

"How in the hell are they brainwashing me," I asked.

She explained that, for her, hearing certain songs brought back different memories of various times in her life. "So, in the future, when you hear these songs, are they going to bring back some personal memory or is all you're going to remember is these videos," she asked. I dismissed her opinion as middle-aged, parental gibberish.

I've chosen the tune "Working For The Weekend", by Loverboy, as the theme song for this week. I seemed like a fitting choice as that's what I did - worked for the weekend. This past week, I worked four days and then was treated to a four day weekend, thanks to my new job's schedule and the Labor Day.

Earlier in the week, I began sifting through my mind's musical library for songs about work. About labor, in reference to the holiday. When "Working For The Weekend" first dawned on me, what do you suppose was my first memory? My job at the time? Maybe a girlfriend or an old car?

Nope, my visual was that of Mike Reno, the band's lead singer, in an MTV video clip as he jammed onstage with guitarist, Paul Dean. Considered pretty cool back then, I have to laugh as Reno looks like a total geek with his permed hair constricted within a terry cloth sweatband. The expression on his face as he belts out the song's words very closely resembles that of a man I saw in our local hospital's emergency room last year, as he was attempting to pass a kidney stone.

"Why are our parents so wise," I wondered.

As the weekend approached, I decided I was really gonna "give 'er hell" this weekend and pile up some miles on the bike. I started on Friday afternoon with a ride of 28 miles on my favorite section of trail between Emlenton and Sunny Slopes. There was not an overwhelming amount of people using the trail that day. The river, however, was another story. Everywhere you looked the Allegheny's surface was covered with watercraft. Everything from canoes to kayaks to bass boats and ski boats. Even a few of those obnoxious jet skis, or "personal watercraft" as their owners so politely call them, cruised by from time to time.

Saturday afternoon, it was my intention to get out once again, as Betsy and the kids left me to my own devices that day. But soon, my lack of ambition and indecision as to where to go prevailed and I found myself sitting on the back porch. I nursed a beer as two young deer played under my neighbor's apple tree. Next thing I knew, the family was back home.

"Where did that day go," I wondered aloud.

On Sunday, after church, I made up my mind to make up for the day before. My plan was to ride on the highway, making the 1.2 mile trip from our home to the Sandy Creek trail. From there, I would travel to points unknown, but would eventually end up at an area know as Astral, along the Allegheny River trail. This little parking area is about a mile from my in-laws house. Putting aside my personal disdain for cell phones, I carried one in my handlebar bag and called Betsy to pick me up after covering 28 miles. Afterward, we gorged on hot sausage sandwiches, scalloped potatoes and cake as we celebrated her brother's birthday.

With this morning being a holiday, I knew I needed to hit the trail early, if I was going to hit it at all. It was my goal to cover the entire 34 mile distance of the Allegheny River/Justus Trails in the course of the weekend. So I made my way back to Astral and rode upstream to the city of Oil City, a distance of about 11 miles.

The fog was thick and heavy for the entire ride and the only people I encountered looked like regular trail users, not holiday wanna-bes. Every so often, the silence would be broken with loud cracks. I dismissed them as river campers, on the various islands, playing with fireworks. My theory proved wrong, though, as I was later approach by a beautiful Chocolate lab, it's owner following along with a bagged goose in hand.

In all, I rode 85 miles in the past four days and finished the week with 959 miles on the bike's odometer. It also occurred to me this week that the odometer only goes to 999 miles, so I am very curious to see if it self destructs, or something, once that figure is reached !!

You know, with all this riding and activity, I am pretty whooped. My shoulders, wrists and back are a little sore and my butt hurts, despite the chamois in my biking shorts. I do believe a little relaxation is in order. Maybe I'll just grab a beer, head upstairs and see what's happening on MTV.

Hey, I'm winking at you. Can you tell?