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Categories: all aviation bicycle gadgets misc motorcycle theater Sat, 31 May 2008I decided, around the same time that I decided I wanted to grow some edible plants, that I should get a rain barrel for irrigating. Water isn't that expensive around here, but it rains a lot, and paying for stuff that falls out of the sky for free seemed a little goofy, when it doesn't need to be carefully treated to help out plants. So, yesterday, I rode the Xtracycle up to 172nd and Aurora, where there's a nursery which also sells rain barrels. These are actually fairly fancy barrels, with spigots attached and everything. I'm sure I paid more than I had to, at $55 before tax, but I'm picking my battles here. Getting it home was no great feat, and I actually picked up the barrel on the way up to Jesse's house, to retrieve something I'd forgotten earlier in the day. The barrel is this great big black thing, 57 gallons and made of plastic. It looked really impressive on the back of the bike, but weighing in at 10-15 lbs, wasn't much of a load to worry about (other than a brief bout of side-wind, which was more exciting than I'd anticipated). The advice I'd gotten at the nursery was to make a good, solid foundation for the barrel -- 57 gallons at 8 lbs per gallon is 456 pounds, which is nothing to sneeze at. Since the barrel was to go where a downspout has been discharging its contents for years, who knew how soggy the ground would be. So, I resolved to head out to the nearby Lowes, and pick up some foundation stuff. I thought ahead somewhat, but not really enough. My plan was to get a bag of paving sand and some cinderblocks. Of course, when I prepped the house for sale last year, I got rid of a big stack of cinderblocks, but there was nothing for that now. I loaded a plastic crate on the deck of the Xtracycle, to keep the blocks from scratching up the plywood, and headed out. At the store, I picked up three cinderblocks (I'd forgotten how very heavy cinderblocks are), and a bag of sand. The thought of riding unbalanced again was disquieting, so I wheeled my cart around to the garden section, and picked up another bag of compost, as much for ballast as anything else. As long as I was there, I grabbed a few other things I needed: a short section of hose for the barrel, a new hose nozzle to replace the one that'd fallen apart recently, some tomato stakes, a section of flexible downspout, etc. Nothing else of any weight. Loading the bike, however, was challenging. The stuff that went in the sidebags was fine, if a little over-stuffed. The really hard part was the cinderblocks. I'd eyeballed things, and figured that I could fit three blocks in my crate. I was wrong. No matter how I stacked them, I could really only fit two in. I briefly considered leaving one stashed somewhere, and coming back for it -- I probably should have done that. Instead, I worked out a "clever" system whereby I got the whole, 100+ pound load on the bike. The third cinderblock was causing me a fair deal of worry -- the bike would no longer stand on its kickstand, and the whole thing nearly went over as I was trying to get things secured. Finally, I got everything lashed down, and tried to get on the bike. It almost went over again, and it was only by dint of a lot of grunting and swearing that I got it back upright, and my leg over the frame. It was ok for a moment, but the prospect of actually moving filled me with a certain amount of dread. This was way more weight than I'd dealt with before, and it wasn't behaving nicely. It was the way that the bike kept trying to pivot up and over that clued me in. Very gingerly, I set off. I figured I'd either make it home, or come to my senses, and stash a cinderblock or three along the way. The bike swayed with the slightest provocation: the top cinderblock was nearly 4 feet in the air, and about 3 feet from the nearest torsional support. It swayed like a drunk sailor. Possibly a distracted drunk sailor. Pedalling made it worse. I realized that it would be a very slow trip back home. I made the mistake, once, of getting over 10 MPH, and thought for sure the oscillations would have me on the ground. So, through dilligent use of brakes and attempting to time my steering inputs to kill the oscillation instead of feed it (which was hard to do, and which I only got right some of the time), I slowly made my way home. The trip normally only takes 5 minutes, but I'm also not normally trying to balance 50-odd pounds of cinderblock on top of a two-foot lever about which I'm also attempting to balance, steer and accelerate. I think it took 20 minutes to get home, but I'm not sure; I was concentrating too hard on not capsizing. I finally got home, and said to myself, I've got to take a picture of this! But... the bike wouldn't stand on its kickstand, and I ended up having to lean it against the bannister to keep it from crashing over (and probably destroying the disturbingly brittle cinderblocks). I grabbed my camera, and took a couple of fairly unimpressive shots:
They're unimpressive because, although the load was mighty, it doesn't look like much. It would have been a lot more impressive to have video of myself wobbling down the street, trying not to make any sudden moves. You'll just have to trust that it was sufficiently frightening that I won't be doing anything like that again. I felt my body continue swaying for the rest of the night, as if a ghostly load were still cantilevered off my bum. Sort of like having your sea legs. Anyway. Today, I spent a couple of hours digging, pouring sand, levelling sand, installing blocks, pulling up blocks, re-levelling sand (lather, rinse, repeat), and finally stacking my rain barrel in place:
And, as if the universe were rewarding me for my hard work, it rained enough today to deposit an inch or two of water in the bottom of the barrel. It works! Still nowhere near the level of the drain spigot, but it was pleasing that a couple hours of light rain produced such a tangible effect. A couple more days like this one, and I'll actually be able to water plants without spending a cent on water. We'll just ignore the nearly $90 I spent on setting up the barrel... Posted at 19:27 permanent link category: /misc Thu, 29 May 2008
Somewhere between green and black
I've been thinking about it for at least the last year, and I've finally done it: I started intentionally planting plants.   I cleared a section of weeds out from under the south side of my front deck, and planted three different types of tomato plant (an Early Girl, a Sweet 100, and... something else with Health or Healthy in the name), as well as two variegated basil plants, and an Italian oregano plant. I mixed in what ended up being nowhere near enough compost (one bag looked so big in the store!) before planting, and watered heartily. The trick now will be to keep my eye out for weeds. The night after I planted, I had a long, complicated dream about five plants that I had to keep safe. They were planted at the top of a sharp ridge, and at one point may have had people's faces on them. The whole dream was dark and rainy, and I was struggling against dreadful portents which were never quite manifest enough that I could see them. Ah, the joyful symbolism of dreams. Anyway, with any luck, I should have some tomatoes popping up mid to late Summer. These were definitely planted a bit late, but with the weirdo weather we've been having, I'm not convinced that's a bad thing. Posted at 10:02 permanent link category: /misc Thu, 22 May 2008I just finished installing an Origin 8 Space handlebar on my commuter bike:  They're very bendy. I am hopeful they'll help reduce some forearm fatigue I've had lately from my previous, very straight handlebars. Not a bad deal, either, at $25. Stay tuned for updates. Posted at 20:37 permanent link category: /bicycle If you're interested, I'm selling my Goldwing/EML sidecar rig: 
Asking $4000, and I'll entertain other offers. Click on the picture to see the Craigslist ad. Posted at 10:34 permanent link category: /motorcycle An email came across the bicycle mailing list at work, mentioning the Ride of Silence. I hadn't heard of it before, and looked it up. It's a ride to honor injured and killed cyclists, and to make cyclists more visible to traffic. It would be happening the next evening, when I didn't have any plans. So, I figured, what the heck. It sounded interesting, and I definitely support the goals of the ride. I read a bunch of ride reports, and read about how moved people were: dozens or hundreds of riders cruising along in silence, wearing armbands and sunglasses (to hide the tears). Cars stopping, apparently in honor of the ride. Goodwill and such, etc.
There were a handful of cyclists gathered by the time I got there, no more than 5 or 6. To my surprise, they were all older, mostly over 60 as far as I could tell. More cyclists arrived, raising the average age one by one. It made sense, in a way -- young people are rarely as aware of their own mortality.
Interviews done, the reporter wandered off, apparently reviewing her recording, and trying to gather environmental sounds as a pair of bikers rode hesitantly by, wondering why she was trying to get in their path of travel.
As time rolled on, more people arrived, and the average age started getting closer to the population average. Someone thrust a handful of "cuesheets" (a list of turn instructions) into my hand, and bade me pass them on to newcomers, which I did, eventually feeling like a barker selling programs. "Cuesheets! Getcher cuesheets! Can't tell a corner from a crossing without your cuesheet! Cuesheets! Right here!" I suppose it was a fine way to meet a bunch of new people, although I didn't meet them so much as watch them pass by.
We rode off, and there were easily 100 people, probably more. I was disappointed that there'd been no instructions, no rules, no uplifting speeches about why we were gathered. The rules I'd read online were pretty firm: ride single file, follow traffic laws, don't block traffic, 12 MPH max. This wasn't to be a Critical Mass style ride.
People were indeed silent, and the pace was quite sedate, never exceeding about 14 MPH on my little bike computer's screen unless we were coasting down a hill. The route only had three noticeable hill climbs: coming up the hill from Eastlake towards REI, up Queen Anne Ave, and going up Dexter towards Fremont.
The ride wound up back at Gasworks, where half of the riders seemed to be stopping and waiting for something, and half were just riding on, to head on their individual paths. I stopped for a minute, but nothing was happening, and I didn't have anyone to chat with, so I continued on my way back to Fremont and home. I ended up following a pack of racers (I guess) who were clad in identical uniforms as we crossed 34th. There was some ribbing as one of the riders sprinted ahead of the others, and the group accelerated to keep up. Curious if I could keep up with them on my relatively heavy commuting bike, I joined in. Indeed, I kept up, and didn't particularly notice the strain, which was encouraging. At the corner of Fremont and 34th, a car driver shouted something out her window and was rewarded for her pains by one of the racers laying his bike carefully in front of her stopped car and leaning over her window: "What did you say?" There ensued a tense conversation in which I only heard the biker, who was trying to explain how that was a bike lane, and asked if the driver's car was endangered, and things along those lines -- typical angry-car-driver vs. self-righteous-biker stuff. And as typically happens with these exchanges, both parties left feeling injured, the bikers purposely crowding the traffic lane so the car driver couldn't pass, and the car driver speeding off in an angry cloud of exhaust once the way was clear.
I was pleased, overall, that the pace never got up. The riders were admirably quiet, although with all the traffic noise around us, the difference between a hundred silent riders and no riders was negligible. The silence of the riders didn't appear to excite the stares and interest of pedestrians or drivers as the online reports I'd read suggested. Car drivers didn't seem annoyed in general, although there was at least one honked horn followed by a roaring of engine as an annoyed driver blitzed past in his Jeep during the ride. I guess I'd call the ride a success, and I'm certain the organizers will. It was an impressive collection of riders, and I can only assume that they showed up because they also believed in the goals of the ride. I was disappointed that to me, it just seemed to be a bunch of riders following each other somewhat willy-nilly down the road, who happened not to be talking. The lack of any other form of unity (for instance, riding single file, wearing sunglasses, wearing armbands, etc.) left me feeling like I'd gone on a lightly paced recreational ride, rather than having made any sort of symbolic contribution, or any connection with anyone. (The rest of my pictures can be seen in the gallery.) Posted at 08:46 permanent link category: /bicycle Mon, 19 May 2008This Sunday, I decided I wanted to finally go get an archery target. They sell these blocks of layered foam that work well, and at least theoretically don't get torn up too quickly. It's been ages since I shot my Magyar horsebow. So, I got the Xtracycle down and prepared for the ride over to GI Joes (now Joe's Sports, apparently) in Northgate, where they stock this kind of thing. I dread riding to Northgate, though. The roads to Northgate (a local shopping mall) from my house fall into two categories: terrifying, and long; at least on a bicycle. The main drag is Northgate way, which runs east to the mall, bordering the north end of the mall proper. It's the obvious choice in a car. Unfortunately, Northgate Way is a four-lane, "30 MPH" (but actually 40-50 MPH) road occupying the space of a spacious two-lane or comfortable three-lane road. There are no shoulders. There's a narrow, frightening asphalt excuse for a sidewalk along the north edge, covered in cracks, broken glass, tree-root furrows, and with overgrown blackberry bushes taking up big chunks of it. Traffic flies along the road, which includes a J curve that scares me in any vehicle except a motorcycle (which is narrow enough to give room to the car in the next lane, since someone around me invariably crosses the line). The other choice is to travel south to 92nd (Northgate Way could also be called 105th or 110th, depending on which side of the curve you're on), where there's an overpass over I-5. Oh, did I mention? There's a major freeway in the way. Going 10 blocks south isn't a huge deal, but it involves more hills and more distance, so it's not my favorite choice. It's also essentially traffic-free, at least compared to Northgate Way, so it's a good choice that way. I ended up going down to 92nd on the way there, and taking Northgate Way (and that terrifying little "sidewalk") on the way back. The trip didn't seem as long as I'd been making it out to be in my head, and when I got back, I saw I'd only added 4-5 miles to the odometer for the whole trip. It's amazing how the quality of a road changes its perceived length, at least on a bicycle. I guess it's true of cars and motorcycles, too: a good road seems to fly by, but a bad road takes forever to traverse, no matter how fast or slow you're going. Posted at 10:23 permanent link category: /bicycle Wed, 14 May 2008I did my first full trip to Costco on the Xtracycle today:
The return trip (including a stopover to see Jesse's newly expanded backyard) was about 7 miles with an extra 70 lbs on the back of the bike. It perpetually amazes me how well that thing deals with huge amounts of weight. Posted at 23:54 permanent link category: /bicycle Tue, 13 May 2008
Tivoli Model One power consumption
One of the radios that immediately catches my eye is the Tivloi Model One, which I like for its spare design, and potentially very power-friendly circuitry. I have a coworker who has one in his office, and I've been admiring it for years now. When the boombox shut itself down for a couple of days recently, my half-hearted search took on a sharp new focus. The boombox uses 2W of power, as previously reported, while the big stereo in the living room produces the same amount of sound while playing my favorite radio station for the shockingly large 80-100W. A replacement would ideally use about the same 2 watts of power. This led to the question: how much power does the Tivoli actually consume? Well, having ready access to a Kill-a-Watt, I decided to find out. My coworker (also interested to know the answer) gladly let me plug his Model One into the little measuring gizmo, and we had our answer: it used 2W while switched off, 3W while on but turned all the way down, and 4-5W for as loud as we wanted to try it in an office environment (perhaps 1/4 travel on the volume knob). That's not very much, but 2W while switched off? Come on! This thing has a clicky off switch. It's not some software switch. As far as I know the circuitry inside is all analog (and therefore needs no power to know what to do when it switches on). My best guess is that the power switch actually switches the power coming out of the power supply, rather than turning off power at the power supply inlet (ie, shutting off the AC cord). This leaves the power supply on all the time, which needlessly consumes power. Now, 2W doesn't sound like much (and it isn't much). But over time, it adds up, particularly coupled with all the other little 2W draws that end up living in your house: clocks, microwaves, TVs, anything with a remote control, computers, etc. I have about 6 devices like that in my house (clocks, microwave) that are constantly drawing power. I don't want to add more. Fortunately, there is a solution to this dilemma, at least for something like the Model One: cord switch. Works great, and the radio will never miss the power. It's easier than unplugging the cord every time, too. Am I a nerd? Worried over nothing? Perhaps. It's nice to think I'm helping reduce energy use, though. Posted at 14:30 permanent link category: /misc Tue, 06 May 2008I've got the race report sort of finished. All the text is done, but I haven't yet uploaded the few pictures I have. I'll be updating it in the next few days. If you'd like the pictureless version: Race-day report, May 3rd and 4th 2008 Check back, and I should have pictures inserted by the end of the week. Posted at 22:30 permanent link category: /motorcycle I left work today somewhat annoyed: a server for which I'm responsible was being finicky, and had attracted the attention of some folks much higher up in the organization. Not really the kind of attention you want. I got on the bike and headed out, taking my usual route. I ride up under the Aurora bridge, then jog over to Linden. On about 44th, I jog over to Fremont Ave, and then follow the main road around the south end of the Zoo. Lately, I've been short-circuiting the light at 50th and Fremont by taking a left at 49th, and popping out on 50th a few blocks up. It's a particularly good path when there are no cars waiting at the light -- the bike doesn't trip the light, so I end up waiting forever. Only this time, I was in a pack of bikes, and the light timing was about right, so I went through the light (which turned green just as I pulled up to the last car in line), and went straight from Fremont to 50th. I rode a couple of blocks, when my eye was caught by an odd sight: someone was lying on the grass on the far side of the street. In fact, it was a cyclist, and their bike was lying on its side, in the middle of a parking spot. That's not right! I pulled over as she was struggling to sit up and asked if she was alright. She didn't really answer, and I wasn't sure she'd understood what I said. I had a moment of curiosity: did she not speak English? Had she just fallen off her bike? Concussion? So I quickly laid down my bike on the grass and knelt in front of her. "Are you ok?" I was trying to remember any of the first aid I learned so very long ago. She clearly heard me speaking, but didn't say anything. I asked again -- rendering first aid to someone when they don't need it is embarrassing. She finally nodded, and said, "I'm ok." By this time, a small crowd had gathered -- I was amazed at how many people were suddenly on this small, infrequently used sidewalk. She sat further up, and as one of the women crouched down and started asking her questions, I went over and grabbed the fallen bicycle, getting it off the road. The story gradually unfolded: our mystery cyclist had epilepsy, and had felt the onset of a seizure. "I have an aura," she explained, "in my hand." I'm not entirely sure what that meant, but aside from some apparent confusion, she seemed ok. She'd apparently felt the seizure coming on, and had quickly gotten off the bike and onto the grass. I'd found her in a classic chalk-outline pose: on her back with both legs bent in one direction, one arm up near her face. The cyclist instructed the woman who'd been talking to her that her phone was in the top of her saddlebag. The woman pulled it out and handed it over. The cyclist called a friend, still sounding dazed, and apparently got voicemail, explaining that she was going to leave her bike at the friend's house. At this point, the helpful woman offered to drive the cyclist home, which offer was accepted. I helped load the bike into the woman's car, and the cyclist slowly got into the passenger seat. They drove off, and I set off on my way again. I'm not sure what lesson I take away from this, exactly. It was thrilling, in a way, to see the number of people who stopped to see if they could help. One bystander asked if we (the cyclist and I) were together, and when I said we weren't offered that she lived in the building right there, giving her apartment number. "Let me know if you need anything," she said, and walked on. A man had pulled his car over, and offered a ride, moving on when it became apparent that the situation was in hand. The helpful woman who eventually drove the cyclist off was obviously happy to be helping. It was pleasing to see that kind of response (although a cynical part of my brain was wondering if it would have attracted quite the same crowd if the cyclist had been an overweight 60 year old man instead of an attractive mid-20s woman). Of course, it also prompted me to think that I don't possibly have the kind of currency in first aid that I should. Fortunately, that's a thing I can correct pretty easily. I think our collective response was right, though -- the cyclist, although dazed, didn't obviously require assistance beyond a ride back to her house. She was slowly coming back to herself, and an epileptic seizure is one of those things that happens every day all over the world. I did find myself feeling a trifle smug at the other cyclists I encountered as I rode the rest of the way home. "I helped a fallen cyclist today. What did you do?" I didn't say it out loud, though. It's not like everyone comes across a body lying in the grass next to a bicycle on its side. You have to take these opportunities when you come across them. It did occur to me that of the four cyclists who passed by that spot within seconds of each other, I was the only one who stopped. Ok... maybe a little bit smug. It was also a nice way to be reminded that, although work is important, and what happens there has meaning, it's not the end of the world. Finicky servers take a far second place to real people. Posted at 18:52 permanent link category: /bicycle The results for this last weekend have been posted over at the WMRRA site. Somehow, I came in 17th out of 22, despite having failed to finish the first heat, and coming in either dead last or next-to-last in the second heat. The scoring system is causing a lot of unhappy discussion among the Vintage 160 folks -- it seems to be done almost at random. Transponders don't seem to work (for instance, mine tested fine at the little tester at Registration, but I didn't get a single ping on the track). Lots of other folks from Vintage were having transponder problems too. Anyway, I've got a race day report brewing, and I'll post it here when it's finished. The extremely short summary: I worked corners Saturday and didn't die (although I almost froze after it started raining). We were late on Sunday, and I couldn't do the practice due to a leaking petcock (fuel all over the engine, potential fireball territory). I started the first race, but had to exit early when my brake pedal decided to depart the bike. I finished the second race, but the bike seemed to be a little down on power. My overall impression from Sunday was, "Why am I doing this again?" It wasn't any fun. I was very frustrated at the bike -- when my skill is lacking, that's fine. When the bike is so broken that I can't even get to the point of checking my skill, that's annoying as hell. I'm not giving up yet, but I can't really say I'm having a good time yet, either. Posted at 09:57 permanent link category: /motorcycle Categories: all aviation gadgets misc motorcycle theater Written by Ian Johnston. Software is Blosxom. Questions? Please mail me at reaper at obairlann dot net. |
I've been looking around at potential replacements for my slowly
dying kitchen radio: an Aiwa boombox that must be 15-20 years old. It
sometimes just stops working. A sufficient quantity of caveman-style
thumping seems to bring it back to life, but one of these days it's
going to stop working forever.