They call me The Breeze

November 16, 2012January 25, 2013 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 15 Comments

The Arkansas River Trail, just east of City Park.

PUEBLO, Colo. (MDM) — It’s hard to know what to make of all the traffic on Highway 50 between Cañon City and Pueblo. We could chalk it up to unemployment, but then how do all these people afford the gas?

Day two of my self-propelled getaway began with a free breakfast at the Hampton followed by a five-mile ride to the AT&T store for iPhone surgery. A very helpful young lady showed me how to reseat the SIM card using a paper clip (my preferred tool is a ball-peen hammer, but different strokes, etc.).

It was cool, in the lower 40s, with a brisk wind out of the east, so I made a few itinerary changes on the fly. I skipped a second visit to Dakota Hot Springs, reasoning that poaching my thighs just 10 miles into a 50-mile day might not be smart. And I likewise gave a miss to Lake Pueblo and the western stretch of the Arkansas River Trail, because Pueblo West has changed some since last I cycled through there and I didn’t feel like getting lost in some prairie-dog town hunting the trail. So I stayed on Highway 50 to Pueblo Boulevard, hung a right, and picked up the trail just west of City Park.

Despite the chill there were plenty of fishermen working the river — one of them in shorts — and quite a few folks either walking or cycling the trail, which beat the mortal nuts off Highway 50 in terms of traffic/noise volume.

I left the trail at Main Street and hung a left over to Union for lunch at the Hopscotch Bakery. Dismounting and walking the bike through a crosswalk I narrowly avoided getting center-punched — by a cop car! I gave the bluesuit the stinkeye, which is always a bad idea in P-town as these guys like to tase you before they shoot you. But still, damn.

If you’re ever in Pueblo make sure to visit Hopscotch and its brother op’, Bingo Burger. Locally owned, great food, better people.

The final leg of the day was up Main through Mineral Palace Park, over to Elizabeth and north to another Hampton (free stay, free breakfast, what’s not to like?).

Today it’s back home to Bibleburg on what looks to be the chilliest of my three days on the road. It’s just 28 at 8:40 a.m., so it may be checkout time before I actually check out. No need to hurry — some of today’s finale involves short stretches of Interstate 25, and I’d like to hit that sweet spot between hungover motorists driving to work and drunken motorists heading back home.

Rollin’ on the river

November 15, 2012January 25, 2013 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 16 Comments

Cañon City creek — This little creek was burbling just east of the Hampton Inn in east Cañon City. While I was snapping pix a coyote ambled past.

CAÑON CITY, Colo. (MDM) — Enough, it seems, was finally enough. After too many consecutive days of working for a living (however do you people bear it?), I decided to hit the road.

I had considered blasting down to Arizona, where the sunshine is plentiful and the cycling excellent … and then I started thinking about the two days of driving there, and the two days of driving back, and all the cycling I would not be doing as I herded the rice-grinder through the American Southwest. Plus that shit costs money, and the weather was not too shabby right here in Colorado.

So instead I loaded up the Soma Double Cross and rode down Highway 115 to Penrose for a soak at Dakota Hot Springs, then continued on to Cañon City, where I spent the night at the Hampton for freesies thanks to banked-up Hilton Honors points. Fifty miles with 25 pounds of crap — not bad for an old feller.

My iPhone 3GS spazzed out en route, so this morning it’s off to the AT&T store to find out how come (I suspect the SIM card got jarred loose) and then I’ll head west to Pueblo via Lake Pueblo State Park and the Arkansas River Trail.

Maybe I’ll take another soak at Dakota en route. Fifty miles with 25 pounds of crap — not good for an old feller.

iBike 2012: A body at rest

September 25, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 10 Comments

Caramillo leaves — The trees are turning big-time in Bibleburg.

BIBLEBURG, Colo. (MDM) — I’m always surprised to find myself at home after a longish road trip, because once I get that old Newtonian motion going the inclination is to keep on keepin’ on.

Why not swing down through Phoenix to McDowell Mountain Regional Park, do a bit of autumn cycling? Then drift further south to Tucson, have a bite at El Minuto. There’s some fine desert riding around Las Cruces, too, along with the High Desert Brewing Company.

Then I could head north through Socorro, refueling at El Sombrero, before pushing on to Santa Fe, where the eating, drinking and cycling opportunities are boundless. A guy can bat around there for the better part of quite some time without ever coming to rest.

Alas, I’m no longer an unencumbered twenty-something, answering only to a spindly, bad-tempered mutt and a Japanese pickup. So I took the well-worn route back to Bibleburg, picking up on an excellent set of music from the Green Chile Revival and Medicine Show on Gallup’s KGLP en route — Mary Gauthier, Stan Rogers, Fred Eaglesmith and the New Orleans Nightcrawlers — and enjoying two last norteño meals at La Choza in Santa Fe and Orlando’s in Taos before finally coming to rest back at the ranch.

It’s fall with a vengeance here, which means cool mornings and an extra blankie on the bed at night, but excellent riding weather in between. So I plan to spend as much time as is humanly possible piloting a bicycle — one with what Larry calls “after-lunch gearing” — instead of a Subaru.

iBike 2012: Leaving Las Vegas

September 22, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 21 Comments

FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. (MDM) — Two and a half days of Interbike is just about right. Eyeball some bling, catch a bit of face time with industry cronies, drink some adult beverages and then be on your way.

Vegas is the only place I know of where one can arise in the morning without drinking heavily the night before and still feel like hammered shit. It’s a contact hangover, the parched ghosts of a billion debaucheries. That the show will move from the Sands to Mandalay Bay is only like shifting the ball-peen hammer to your left hand so you can smack yourself upside the left temple for a change of pace.

There seemed to be fewer actual bicycles at the show this year. Plenty of appetizers, side dishes and desserts, but a tad light on the main course. I wasn’t the only one who noticed this, either, though most attendees would’ve walked right past a pretty bike, eyes locked as they were onto their smartphones.

But it was encouraging to see more companies serving up transportation rather than toys — Yuba was showing some particularly interesting bikes — and more companies are offering racks, bags and other accoutrements that say “transportation” rather than “toy.”

Outside the Sands I encountered plenty of Obama supporters. You know the type: shiftless, smelly ragamuffins living on the streets, begging for alms outside shops and on street corners while awaiting the splendiferous bounty of the welfare state.

The Wal-Mart across the street from my Motel 6 in Flag’ has a scattering of folks camped in their rides despite prominent signs forbidding overnight camping. Others find nearby convenience-store/gas stations whose parking lots are big enough for a brief bivouac before pressing on.

The motel itself shelters the next step up — working-poor families packed into one room, taking the evening air with lawn chairs and coolers, enjoying a smoke. At least one room has a plant in its window. This does not bespeak a casual visitor passing through.

For me, it’s only temporary. In a few minutes I’ll be burning up the road at four smacks per gallon, bound for Bibleburg. This is a good deal easier than hoofing it like the young dude I saw as I walked back to the motel from breakfast. Equipped with haversack and dog, he asked directions to Route 66, and I provided same, warning it was a ways down the road.

“Well, it’s not like I’m not used to walking,” he said with a grin, then moved on.

iBike 2012: Bibleburg to Flagstaff

September 18, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 18 Comments

One of my favorite spots in Santa Fe. Or anywhere else, come to think of it.

FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. (MDM) — There’s nothing quite like listening to Bach’s “Art of the Fugue” while motoring through the New Mexican desert, flipping the bird to Mitt Romney billboards.

I made the usual stops en route — Ten Thousand Waves, which as usual was awesome; and Second Street Brewery, which oddly was not (I guess everyone has a bad day coming, and theirs was Sunday night).

As I barreled westward the CD player spared me the news that the RomneyBot v2.012 had managed to waffle-stomp its electronic pecker again. I didn’t catch up on that action until I came within range of KNAU just outside Flagstaff, and may I say that it’s always pleasant to have one’s worst suspicions confirmed?

The guy called slightly less than half the country a shiftless bunch of jigaboos, beaners and white-trash layabouts who while away the hours sleeping off a drunk in their Cadillacs until it’s time to cruise down to the welfare office and harvest a bale of feddle-gummint money before getting their gold tooth polished at the Mayo Clinic.

The janitors at the Republican National Committee must have had a hell of a time sweeping up all the hair on the floor after that pail of mierda hit the abanico. But I bet they were whistling while they worked.