Double Pace Line

One thing most bike riders never try is racing or trying to go fast. Which is fine. Getting outside and enjoying the day makes for good exercise and a social outlet. This kind of riding is usually done at 12 to 15 mph.

But as you speed up the first thing you notice is how the wind starts to push back. One solution is for everyone to ride in a line. The person in front of the line is out in the wind and needs to try a lot harder to go the same speed as the rider behind.

A pace line takes this fact and sets up a rotation on the front of the line. When the front person's turn is over the hand comes out and (if no cars are coming) he drops to the back of the line. They say the front person is pulling (helping the others along).

A double pace line take up more road. In a double pace line the time at the front is very short. After he finishes, the front guy goes into another line that is slowing down compared to the main line. As he get to end of the main line he goes to the end and starts working his way back up to the front.

I've only done this a few times, but it can carry a very fast pace. By myself I can only go about 22 mph for an extended time. Last year when we did the double pace line we were going over 27 mph for about a half hour. Later, when we had the wind at our backs we speeded up to over 30 mph at times. This wouldn't impress a pro biking team. These guys routinely go over 30 mph. A lot of them can do that alone. But it sure was fun for me!

Hoosier 101 part 5

After Howard hung up the phone he decided he wanted something to eat. He knew it would make him late for his appointment but frankly, he didn't really give a crap about disappointing some convicted criminal. Heading down Jefferson he made a right on Gravois and headed for White Castle.

Jimmy's clean up job was just about done. He had double bagged his stash hiding it in the vent off an old space heater in the kitchen. He decided to brush his teeth for the first time since Saturday night. He figured Howard would be late again, but it still pissed him off. Terry's call had him stoked to get with him and Stoner. Just then he noticed another beer can in the corner behind the plastic palm. After the can was in the trash he headed up to the sink where the yellow frayed toothbrush waited.

Brushing was a bit quicker experience now that his eye teeth had been pulled. About half of the yellowed and blackened teeth bled every time he even lightly touched the bright red infected gums. He had to leave about 10 minutes to get the bleeding to stop.

By now Howard was in line at White Castle. It was a clean place full of dirty people. None of the workers looked that happy to be there but they all hustled.

"I'll take three white castles, a cheese fry, and a medium coke."

A bum wearing an old army jacket was sitting on the other side of the room looking out at the intersection of Grand and Gravois. As he warmed up, the smell of urine became stronger and stronger. A few people sat close by at first, but moved away when the stench hit.

Howard headed out to the car. This time he switched on the radio. He tuned in sports talk and listened to a call in show. Most of the caller were complaining about the Cardinals relief pitching. Who were these people who called in all the time? A loud slurping noise let him know lunch was over.

Where was Dowd's house? On Nebraska? As he headed down Cherokee a street hooker tried to make eye contact. Howard started humming Hoochie Coochie Man to himself. He glanced in the rear view mirror to see the young girl ducking into a store as a cop drove by.

At 11:28 he pulled up to Jimmy's place.

In Concert

Going to a great concert is always fun. It's hit and miss too. Random thoughts.

Bright shining like the sun that day...

Jimmy Dale Gilmour. He had a hot lead guy from Norway or Sweden. Left us yelling for more.
The Mighty Itals. The Pips on ganja. Extreme dub on the mixing board. Good like Black Market Clash.
Greg Brown. Great voice and guitar. Got it done with just a lead player. Second time, not so good.
Santana. Early 80s show. A great positive energy and fun time up on that stage.
Chuck Berry. A lunch time show at a fair. Small enough crowd for everyone to sing along and have fun.
Earl Klugh. Mellow in the way mellow is good. Absolute mastery of the guitar.
War. Perfect band at the perfect time on the Memphis Riverfront.
Ike Turner. An old guy who still knows how to do it. Second time not so good.
Dire Straits. Ghost in the guitar, great songwriting.
Bruce Cockburn. Left me spellbound. Why doesn't he get credit for his leads? Second time not as good.
Delbert McClinton. Texas Van Morrison. Had a great band that night.
James Taylor. First few times great, finally just knew the schtick too well to enjoy it.
George Benson. With the band from Breezin'. An all-star fiesta!

Disappointing
Bob Dylan
Jimmy Buffett
Dave Matthews
Al Green
Leon Russell
Grateful Dead
Ohio Players
Van Morrison

Guilty Pleasure
Lee Greenwood
The Tokens
P Funk

Covered Bridge

I think it was about riding on Good Friday. Todd was over and we talked about it. We did the usual email thing. By the time the day came around we headed over to the official starting point at a Shell staion. Jeeze, our little conversation had grown to over 20 guys. Which was good, because we didn't exactly know all the turns.

The ride started out along the outer road of the interstate. A quick turn and we were into some beautiful country. I had heard the ride was hilly. We started climbing. There was an older looking guy that I passed on the climb. Is he going to keep up?

We popped up into a small town known for its meth labs. There was a minor crash. After getting up I sprayed the wounds with water from my camelback and got going.

Up and down, up and down. No really long climbs. It kept it interesting. Trailer parks and farms. Country houses. Not too many cars. Mostly pickups. Reasonable pace. Hey this rides not too bad.

Stopped for a while and helped a guy with a broken chain. Hammered a while to catch up. Finally got to the covered bridge. My first thought is how much dope gets smoked here? The road out of the covered bridge leads to nowhere. After a short break we head out. A guy tells me we're on our way back now.

The road starts to go up. Todd and Larry drop me. I'm going all out just to keep going. The hill goes on and on and on. A couple more guys pass me. Jeeze, this is a long hill. We crest it and start blasting down the other side in to a flat section. I'm working with a guy and we are flying. We have to be pushing 30 mph. I'm thinking we'll catch the guys in front. Finally, we come to a small town and everyone is waiting.

We hit another huge climb. The "old" guy is blasting away leading the whole group now. Later on I find out he is a nationally ranked mountain bike racer.

By the ride's end I'm shot. I crawl up the last hill on the way home. After lunch and a nap I'm good to go.

75 miles total on the covered bridge ride. A pain fiesta!

Hoosier 101 part 4

Howard Harris headed out out of his apartment around 7:45 to make the short drive to the Probation office. He fired up his 91 Saturn. Juke by Little Walter.

Blues was his passion. He had every key harmonica, the right amp, the right microphone. The bands all knew his and were happy to let him sit in. He was even good on the tunes with no harp parts. Howard just invented horn parts or stayed out when he couldn't think of anything. He could never get gigs with a band even though he tried. The problem was that bringing Howard in would make for a pay cut for everbody, so he never really hooked up with a regular gig for very long.

A tall fellow on a bike went by as he pulled on to Chouteau. Half a block later he pulled in and heaed into the probation office. Dawn and Dorothy were late as usual.

First things first. A quick trip to the coffee maker. Log on to the computer. Check the names for this week. Mondays were always busy.

William Banks - Assault
James Dowd - Burglary
Phillip Smith - Arson
Kendrell Evans - Sexual Assault
Shipley Muhammad - Forgery, Writing Bad Checks
Fletcher Fagen - Manslaughter

Six visits today.

Howard got on the phone. It was rare to get an answer this early. But these men all knew they had better be there for the appointment or it was back to jail. The call to Jimmy was the second call of the day.

"James, this is Howard Harris. This call is to remind you that I will be visiting today between 10 and 11. If you are not present when I visit the matter will be referred to the court."

After a half hour of filing a never ending pile of paperwork, Howard headed back to the Saturn. After the visit to Billy Banks, it was on to Mr. Dowd's place. Flipping through his CD case he pulled out some live Van Morrison. The holster dug in to his side as he turned around and slid the CD case back under the seat.

At that point Jimmy was sitting on the couch scraping his weed back in to a baggie and hiding his pipe. It was 10:37 AM.

Blind Melon

A couple years back I went out to San Diego for a vacation. I stayed at my niece's condo right on the bay right in Pacific Beach. I had been fronting the LA West band for a while at the time.

We were a run of mill blues band for St. Louis. We usually played Johnny's in Soulard. A lot of the people who came in were there to see the hot waitresses. Still, we had our moments.

LA West was a band name used by Ben Wells, our drummer. Ben had played drums his whole life. A lot of the time he was with the Blues Eldorados backing up Tommy Bankhead. Tommy was an excellent musician. He never made the big time, but he was bit of a local legend. Anyway, Ben got the jobs and we played them. Most of our tunes was stuff I knew, so in a way it was my band.

There is a lot of competition in blues in St. Louis. Any night you can go out and see a pretty good blues band at lots of bars. The guys like Ben who started it all kind of get squeezed out. Some bands were playing for $25 a man. We got $62.50 a man. Even the bigger clubs paid barely $100. Even with the peanuts that you could make, bars wanted demo tapes and all kinds of sucking up to get in the door. I didn't really need the money that bad. If was fun while it lasted.

So anyway I'm out in San Diego with my niece's husband Todd. We're out hanging on the strip and we walk by this place called Blind Melon. It's a blues place. The sign says they have a jam session that night. I tell Todd that sounds like fun. He's never heard me play so he goes along. We get there and there's this complicated sign up deal. You get up and play for a half hour then you're done. The thing is organized by some San Diego blues society. The jam sessions in St. Louis are way less organized than this place. In the Lou you could get up and play for a while.

I didn't bring a guitar on vacation. I found the main guy and asked him if there was a guitar I could borrow. He asked me if I played blues. I told him I fronted a blues band in St. Louis, which didn't seem to impress him. He reluctantly said I could borrow his personal guitar, which I thought was very cool. It was a sweet Strat with humbucking pickups and a whammy bar.

So we got up there. It was me, a drummer, a harmonica player and a bass player. That meant nothing to play the chords during my leads. No big deal.

We launched in to Let the Good Times Roll, BB King style. The guitar sounded absolutely great. The sound was good and I had a blast. We cooked through a few more tunes and I kind of did my usually directing traffic thing and made sure all the other guys got the spot light.

I knew we were running out of time. The guy was nice enough to let me borrow his axe so I tried to wind it down on time. When it was time to quit he said to give us 5 more minutes.

That 5 more minutes sure meant a lot to me.

After my turn was over I came back to see Todd at the table. There weren't many people in the place. I think it was a Thursday night.

I wasn't sure if Todd would have gotten into something like that. He ws stoked. Later on he bough me a Blind Melon tee shirt. We left after an hour or so and the jam was still going strong.

Night Ride

It was a moonless night as I stood in the relay area. Delbert was singing Givin It Up For Your Love and a guy had just endoed to respectful applause. Todd was out there somewhere. His lap was taking longer that the last time. It should have been an omen.

Finally he appeared. I fired up my light and we didn't say much. I ran out to the bike and jumped on. My legs were dead. I figured I would warm up and get going. I cruised past camfires on both sides of the trail. It was surreal. Songs faded in and out. My light made the ground ahead look much more dangerous.

There was a drop off with a sand pit at the bottom. The line had changed quite a bit and there was a bit rut worn into the starting point. I got over and shot off to the right, flipped over and crashed. Nothing hurt, the sand took the impact. It was pointless to try to ride out. I walked a bit until I had solid ground.

Slow motion. No energy. The rocky climb seemed much harder than the last two times. Getting up over the ledges was excruciating. The dark made it worse. I decided to just get through it instead of attacking.

At the top of the climb I had the chance to make up some time. But it was my second time riding with lights. Going fast seemed too dangerous. The strange shadows made the line hard to pick out. Oh well. I guess it's going to take a while.

I hit the toboggan run it a few minutes. Rode the brakes all the way. Creeped up the the next sections and got off to walk. Not even liking this a bit by now. Carried the bike down nosedive and some of the rideable drop offs. Up the sandy hill. Losing MoJo with every step.

Finally came to a fast stretch and had to creep along when the light started freaking me out. Luckily I could follow some other rider part of the way and get a free preview.

There a was a sandy, rocky drop off and I got off to look it over. Another racer got off right behind me.

"I've got the use my brain on Monday"

We both walked down.

Another long climb. I seemed to hold my own with group that had formed. We crossed a slickrock section and they lost me on a descent.

Finally, the tent city in the distance. No clock. How long had this been taking? Way longer than last time. I felt ashamed for letting my team down.

A chance to speed up. Riding on a 4 inch wide line in the sand. Occasionally felt the bike lose contact with the ground and start skiing on the sand.

Heading into the finish the overall leader passed me like I was standing still. He had been riding for nearly 14 hours straight. My self esteem took another hit.

Finished. Rich was waiting. It was the middle of the night. I limped back to find my sleeping bag.

Later on I looked up my time and it was a full half hour slower than the first go around. There for anybody to see. Certain forever that this wasn't for me I decided to get through my next turn and turn the page to put the experience out of my mind.

One day later I was obsessed with trying it again. I guess I just can't stand failure. 24 Hours of Moab, 2005 should be much better.

hoosier 101 part 3

At first he wasn't sure what the sound was. It could be battery beeping on the smoke detector. No, it's the phone ringing. He wasn't sure how long it had been going off. He lifted his head and the stiff grey hair on the right side stood straight out and as he stumbled across the floor to pick it up. On the way he noticed a smell and the pile Flair had left him by the door.

"Hallo?"

"Jimmy, you up yet?"

"I am now. Who is this?"

"Stoner and I're goin' down to the river. He got his starter rebuilt. The CJ is runnin' again. We got box of refreshments. I called in."

"When?"

"I'm needin' to run by Dirt Cheap, I'll tell you what, pick ya up in a hour."

"Dude, my probation officer is supposed to be here in an hour. Two hours."

"Yer slower than a woman, but I'll be there."

On the way to the pile of dog crap he started the hot water. Flair ran out side and started barking at a car driving down the alley. The pile flew out the door a little later. I landed on rusty roll of chain link. The fence was sitting over sink that had been sitting there since 1978 when it had a leak.

Arnold's No Pig

The lovely community of Arnold, Missouri is just south of St. Louis. Perched at the northern tip of Jefferson County, Arnold is a growing metropolis featuring its own Walmart, Drury Inn, strip shopping centers (too numerous to list here) and of course a landmark water tower upon which it emblazoned her name. Notable restaurants include Pizza Hut, McDonalds, and (I believe) the original Bandana's Barbecue. In a pinch, a quick meal can be purchased at any number of convenience stores where three separate grades of fuel (87,89, and 91 octane) are available. I've even heard that some of these shop offer diesel!

The northern approach to Arnold is breathtaking at dawn. As one crests the hill on southbound 55 (Cracker Barrel on your left) the excitement builds. There, across an expansive and impressive 10 lanes of concrete sits the Meramec River. Above to your left rises the majestic water tower. A welcoming beacon in the wilderness. An monument that whispers to the commuter, you are out of St. Louis now and are crossing into Jefferson County!