Stupid cold

January 22, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 23 Comments

It was only 14 miles.

Hell, I do this a couple times a year. Drop the Subie downtown for a little love at Reincarnation, ride a bike back to El Rancho Pendejo. Repeat in reverse to collect the old warhorse and drive ’er home. Ain’t no thang.

Except Tuesday, it kinda was.

God damn, but it was cold.

I had been expecting a temp in the low 30s, which for some reason sounds a lot warmer than high 20s, which is what it was. So I wore a jacket over a long-sleeved jersey over a long-sleeved base layer, tights over bibs, wool socks, cold-weather shoes and gloves, and tuque.

Wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. And I knew it at 9 a.m., a half-block into the 14-mile ride home.

O, lawd, I will never be smart. I had Buff neckwear, beefier tights, an old balaclava, and an even older pair of sure-’nough winter gloves … and they were all in a drawer back at the Rancho.

“Well,” I thought, “at least it’s all uphill.” And so it was, 1,200 feet of up, not including a long stretch of that fabled “invisible hill,” which is to say a damp, bitter wind out of the NNW and straight into Your Humble Narrator’s chattering choppers.

Whoever coined the phrase “What can’t be cured must be endured” was probably not thinking about stupidity. But I was as I grumbled my way up the North Diversion Channel Trail, whenever possible sitting bolt upright with hands tucked into armpits.

At Montgomery I came upon a street person’s smallish campfire underneath the bridge. I couldn’t decide whether to report him or join him. So I did neither. Onward!

By the Arroyo del Oso Golf Course, with six miles to go, I had gained some altitude, caught a soupçon of sun, and warmed up just a bit … so much so that I began contemplating some extra-credit stupidity, to wit, leaving the pavement at Juan Tabo for the trails that wind through Bear Canyon Open Space to the Embudito trailhead.

Now, in my defense, we’re talking extremely non-technical trails here, and I was on the Soma Double Cross with its 42mm knobbies. Easy breezy like a cover girl! Assuming she were properly dressed for conditions and had a pro mechanic to get her rolling again in 30 seconds after a puncture.

I, on the other hand, was dressed for conditions that existed only in my head, which was up my arse as per usual. I would be fixing my own flat with half-frozen fingers, only 80 percent of which are fully functional when warm. It would take longer than 30 seconds. Finally, there was the absolute certainty of some rapid evaporative cooling on the 1.5-mile paved descent from the trailhead to the Rancho.

So for a change I did the smart thing: took the pavement home, slammed a steaming mug of tea, and spent way too much time in a hot shower. Around 3:30 I got back on the bike and zipped down to fetch the Subie. Didn’t even need the jacket for the return trip. Ah, the desert Southwest, with its 30-degree temperature swings.

This is hardly the stuff of legend, or even unpaid bloggery. There was a time when I would drive for hours in much worse weather just to race bicycles in it, then tidy up at the car wash afterward. But that was when I was a man — a slightly better insulated man — instead of whatever it is I am now.

Plus my auto mechanic was only 14 minutes away by bike. Sometimes I’d just run home.

The snot locker

May 14, 2025 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 10 Comments

Apologies for the extended hitch in the blogging gitalong.

Herself returned from Maine on Saturday with a case of The Bug, and thanks to the recent heavy rains I have been enjoying an extended allergic reaction to just about everything, including, as you have seen, bloggery.

The Boss is feeling much better now, thanks to rest, tea, posole, and television. I remember when rest, Canada Dry ginger ale, Lipton’s chicken noodle soup, and comic books did the trick for me. So it goes.

Despite a surfeit of snot I have been out and about on the Soma Pescadero, and you may expect an Adventure Cyclist-style review here in the very near future. Of the Soma, not the snot.

It’s been interesting to see how the Pescadero stacks up with the rest of the Merry Sales family — my two Soma Sagas (one rim brake, one disc); the Double Cross (my oldest Soma); and the New Albion Privateer. Marketeer Stan Pun says the Pescadero is “probably our most under-the-radar frame,” which is a pity, because it’s a smooth blend of past and present. It should be flying high.

Anyway, more on that later. Right now it’s time to ride.

Or so I hope, anyway. We have a largish fire burning at the Arizona-New Mexico border, another one freshly pissed out in an industrial district north of downtown, an air-quality alert, and a red-flag warning.

If I were smart I’d stay inside with the doors and windows shut. But if I were smart, I wouldn’t have mowed the lawn yesterday.

In which the suckitude is minimized

March 26, 2025 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments

The Soma Double Cross and I took five for a photo op’ at the foot of the climb to La Cueva Picnic Site.

Not everything sucks.

Case in point: I spent a couple hours on the ol’ bikey bike yesterday. And while the high temperature did not break the record of 83°, set in 2012, I found the observed high of 78° downright pleasant for the tail-end of March. Riding in shorts and short sleeves I was. Even had to break out the SPF 50 and the Pearl Izumi sun sleeves.

La Cueva Picnic Site has yet to open for the season. Being something of a scofflaw, I’ve been known to circumvent the barrier and ride the steep mile to the top anyway. But yesterday I gave it a miss. Still managed to bank 1,600 feet of vertical. So, winning, etc.

La Cueva is a reminder that the government is not always the problem. Listed in New Mexico’s Registry of Historic Places, it was the work of the Civilian Conservation Corps, part of FDR’s New Deal. According to the U.S. Forest Service:

There are stone picnic tables and structures built by master stoneworkers during the 1930s to blend seamlessly into the existing landscape. You will soon discover a rock pavilion that is hidden by the trees, plus other small structures sprinkled throughout the site. Keep your eyes open for picnic tables, vault toilets and fireplaces that are tucked away in nooks and crannies, throughout this site.

The pavilion, picnic tables, fireplaces, and toilets remain. But the road is in poor repair, which may be due to a lack of funds or part of a plan to keep vehicular speeds low. I know I tend to mind my manners on the descent. Shredding the gnar is one thing; shredding yourself is a whole other deal. Especially if the barrier’s down and the ambulance can’t get to you before you bleed out.

Remember La Cueva Picnic Area and the CCC whenever some fathead quotes that overdone ham Ronnie Reagan to you: “Government is not the solution to our problem, government is the problem.”

Even a blind pig finds an acorn. But it generally takes him a while. Forty-four years later Ronnie’s right on the money.

I was framed (and forked)!

February 16, 2025 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 3 Comments

My friends at Soma Fabrications are knocking 20 percent off their already reasonably priced frames and forks, which makes them a deal and a half for anyone in the market for a new rig.

Click the link to get the deets. And you’ll wanna move fast, because this sale ends tomorrow.

Me, I’ve finally gotten my paws on a Soma Pescadero, the frameset I originally wanted to review for Adventure Cyclist back in 2021.

The Pescadero was out of stock back then, and what I wound up with instead was a New Albion Privateer, which proved to be an excellent bike, so much so that I bought it after writing the review. And it remains the bike I ride most often.

But I’m really looking forward to throwing a leg over the top tube of this Pescadero.

I’m a few parts short of a party at the moment — the Racer centerpulls I ordered from Paul Components are taking the scenic route to El Rancho Pendejo, and I’m trying to decide whether to perform a complicated three-way transplant to put wheels on the Pescadero or just buy a brand-new wheelset from the good folks at Velocity USA.

I used an old pair of wheels on the Privateer — Mavic Open Pro rims and Shimano 600 hubs — and I could go that route again, robbing a similar wheelset from a Steelman Eurocross or the Soma Double Cross. But I like those bikes as they are.

And that three-way swap I mentioned would involve moving the Double Cross’s wheels to the Pescadero; shifting a Soma Saga’s wheels to the DC; and giving an unused Velocity Cliffhanger/LX wheelset to the Saga. Some redishing seems likely; brake adjustments are a certainty. What we shade-tree mechanics like to call “too much like work.”

So … yeah. We’ll see. No rush on wheels if a feller ain’t got no brakes. But all y’all will want to get busy if you want a good price on a new whip. Tell ’em The Dog sent you.

Red blanket by the freeway

February 12, 2025 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 23 Comments

If this looks chilly, it’s because it is.

The weather took a seasonal turn yesterday. The gods knew I’d be dropping the Subie at Reincarnation downtown around 8:30, and they didn’t want me to be too comfortable as I cycled home on the Soma Double Cross.

It wasn’t what I’d call wintry. There was a pretty brisk wind, but hey, this is New Mexico. Wind ain’t blowing when you wake up, you may have died during the night. Anyway, it was pushing me along the North Diversion Channel Trail. So, winning, etc.

I was properly attired, with a light jacket over a long-sleeved jersey and an ancient Hind base layer, bibs and tights, wool socks, full-fingered gloves, and a tuque under my helmet. Kept it all on, too, as the wind became a little less friendly on the Osuna-Bear Canyon trail.

When you start your day with a 65-mph sprint down I-40 to University and then cycle from Mountain and 2nd, up Odelia-Indian School, and along the NDCT from Indian School to Osuna, you see the homeless folks getting their mornings on, if you know where to look.

One dude was camping beyond rough, rolled up like a burrito in a red blanket on a concrete slab off on the north side of I-40. I might not have seen him were it not for that blanket. If he had a shopping cart, a bicycle, or even a bindle, it was pretty well concealed.

As I pedaled up the NDCT a small group was shaking itself awake just off the trail below Montgomery. One guy had a bike; we exchanged waves.

Later, after I was home and warm and full of lunch, Reincarnation rang me up to say my 20-year-old rust-bucket would require a deeper dip into the wallet than I had anticipated, imperiling a considerable slice of what I had until that moment considered disposable income.

I felt sorry for myself, briefly, until I remembered that at least I’d have the Subie to sleep in if everything went south on me all at once. There’s even a locking rack up top for the Double Cross.