Repairs

I've been very lucky since I returned to bicycles in 2012. Having read all the horror stories, I was prepared for battle, but the breakdowns, crashes, accidents, and other headaches just never came.

That lucky streak ended recently, but I suppose it was as gentle as possible.

First, just as I was starting a brief ride, I tried to shift into my lowest gear, so I pushed as far as I could on my thumb shifter. I'm not sure what happened next, but I think the pressure pulled the cable out of the cable clamp. I think I didn't realize this, so I just kept pushing the shifter forward. I ended up pulling the cable housing through the shifter.

Oops

Oops.

I was desperate enough for a ride that day that I kept on going, single-speed style. But just as I was returning, I hopped off my bike and realized I had a flat rear tire. A large chunk of beer bottle glass was firmly entrenched in the rubber.

Old shifter from an 80s Fuji. Perfect replacement.

Facing several days of single-digit temperatures, I decided to do a little maintenance. I figured I would fix the shifter and tire, and finally take apart my derailleur, with the hopes of giving it a good cleaning. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy everything came apart and went back together. I see much joking about old French build quality, but I have nothing but good things to say about 80s-vintage Sachs-Huret friction derailleurs.

Bits and pieces. 

I don't really like riding in bad weather, but riding in the winter means your bike picks up a lot of road gunk. No big deal; my bike isn't precious enough to keep indoors whenever it's slightly wet out. But it does mean that frequent scrubdowns are necessary; you can feel all that grit when you pedal. And I think I was probably the first person to ever get that deep into that derailleur.

All cleaned and ready to get dirty again. 

The only casualty was the small plastic cover that goes over the dropout bolt. It's just aesthetic, but I was a little irritated. Perhaps I'll come across another one of these days.

Enjoying the winter rides

Don't worry, I don't ride on the sidewalk! 

I can't quite take a break from my bike. The weather has been quite lousy lately; rain and snow have lingered, and we're gearing up for another cold snap after enjoying about a week-long respite from the last one.

My limit is 20 degrees. Anything below 20 degrees and I'm not taking the bike out. It just gets painful, no matter how properly attired I am for the ride.

It's not just the cold, either. It's always wet, and the sand and salt spread on the road just seems to torture my bike. I'm not a neat freak about the Peugeot, but I have my limits.

Hanging from my basement ceiling awaiting a wipedown. 

The downtime is probably a good time to just do something else for a while. Relax. Do some maintenance. Work on some stuff around the house.

But I just can't resist getting out there. It has been in the high 30s-low 40s this week. Relatively speaking for this time of year, it's balmy. The recent melting has widened roads.

This wonderful wall my Peugeot is sitting against is Hope Cemetery, Worcester's municipal cemetery. I love living near cemeteries; they are beautiful, peaceful places. They are full of history and character.

Surveying all that is before her.

This is one of my favorite monuments. I've never checked out what the story is behind her -- one of these days -- but she always looks to me like she has this perfect view of the gently landscaped grounds. The hair, the pose, the garb, the patina. It's just all right.

Puffy snowboarding gloves fit the bill.

One new addition this year has been the puffy Burton snowboarding gloves you see perched above the Pug. It was the most money I have ever spent on gloves, and it seems to have been money well spent. They do have their limits -- I was at a scene for work last week in about -5 degrees and it was pretty chilly. But for bike riding in 20 degree-plus weather, they perform flawlessly.

I truly enjoy riding my bike in the cold. I end up warming up pretty good, and I am always in a better mood after a ride, no matter the climate. When it's 70 degrees in May, I will look back on the dead of winter and maybe shiver a bit while wondering what possessed me to drag my bike out of the basement at the first sign of the low sun. But I'll also look back with a smile that even in those conditions, I still made it outside, in the fresh air, zooming along, clearing my head.