Spring Comes in Fits and Spurts

Finally I was back on the bike this morning, which was the first time since Sunday! Naturally, the spring-like weather I missed was gone, replaced by another little cold front. It seems that Spring is coming, albeit grudgingly, to the South. The Azaleas and Camellias, popular in the uptown area because they will grow in the shade of the big Live Oaks, are blooming everywhere. Lawns and neutral grounds (aka "medians") are full of rapidly growing clover that always makes me want to stop and look for those elusive four-leaf ones. I'm quite sure that Winter isn't quite done yet, but the earlier sunrise and occasionally warmer weather are certainly welcome.

So Wednesday evening I rode back home down Pine Street as usual, but as I approached Neron Place I could see that something was going on. There were lots of flashing lights, and the traffic on South Claiborne Avenue was barely moving. As I got to the house I saw the reason. A Tulane minibus from our Center for Public Service had somehow crashed into a pickup truck parked in a driveway. I stopped and stared at the situation for a moment, trying to figure out how on earth the bus had ended up in such an odd position, perpendicular to traffic, but with only front-end damage. It didn't make sense. I walked over to the crowd of students who had been on the bus to find out what had happened and learned that the driver had passed out as they were approaching S. Claiborne on Broadway. The bus, with its unconscious driver, had crossed six lanes of rush-hour traffic, miraculously without being hit, and finally stopped when it hit a pickup truck parked in a driveway on the other side of the street. The students all seemed to be fine, since the bus had not been going very fast, although the neighbor's garage that the truck had been pushed into suffered some damage. The bad news was that the driver, who had been attended to quite quickly by the fire department and paramedics, died of an apparent heart attack. I hung around while the students waited for another bus to arrive, running back to the house to get an umbrella for them when it started raining and making a phone call to give Tulane's Public Relations folks a little heads-up when the local news crew arrived about five minutes before the 6:00 news hour.

So I had planned to ride Wednesday morning, but by mid-day Tuesday I knew I'd have to attend a morning meeting in Baton Rouge, which meant I'd have to drop The Wife off at work for her 7:15 am meeting, which meant there was no way I was going to get in a ride. If I had ridden, I probably would have gotten wet, since it was another rainy morning, but after having missed Monday and Tuesday, I probably would have gone out anyway. At least I managed to make it to Spinning class Wednesday evening where I probably went a little too hard trying to make up for lost time while completely ignoring the drill sergent instructor and all that jumping up and down stuff. My back hurts just thinking about that.

This morning the temperature was back down to 50 or so and there was a big group up on the levee. As we approached the playground, still in warm-up mode, we spotted a rider up ahead. Could it be?? We squinted in the pre-sunrise light. Donald looked over at me and said, "It's Ronnie!" Indeed, if anyone needed confirmation that Spring was coming, there it was right in front of us. Like a big bear emerging from hibernation, Ronnie was back in the group.

So the ride seemed pretty hard today, and I guess I have only myself to blame for that since my speedometer never even approached the red zone. The prior evening's Spin class had left my quads with little tolerance for sustained efforts. Although they felt fine when I was sitting in the paceline, every time I'd come to the front and need to push on the pedals a little harder, my legs would start to load up right away. Oh well.

Meanwhile, down in the dark recesses of the basement, an age-old ritual is underway. The track bike's old wheels are getting new rubber. After scraping off a layer of glue that must have been ten years old, they were finally ready for the ritual of the gluing today. I have a few well-aged but unused Vittoria CX tubulars inherited from Billy Richards (and with "Billy Richards" written prominently on the sidewalls). So this morning I stuck a finger inside a baggie and spread a thin layer of Vittoria Mastik One on the tire and rim, leaving them to dry until I do the final application and actually mount the tire to the rim. I'm not sure, but it must have been at least five years since I've glued on a tubular. Now before you start..... Yes, I know that's a road tire and not an official track tire, and yes, I know I could have removed the old rim cement with acetone. However, since the wheels are of the standard old heavy spoked variety, and since I inhaled plenty enough acetone in organic chemistry lab, and since the tires were hanging there just begging to be used before they dry-rotted, the decisions were not entirely irrational. As it turns out, I actually have a couple of unused paper-thin 19mm German track tubulars, and I even have an old front wheel that would accommodate one of them, but considering my limited capabilities on the velodrome I think I'm going to go with reliability over speed.

Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday Charles!