Pony Play

Both ponies playing together and talking to one of the other horses, Star.

Fastrider Deluxe Shopper Pannier from Bicycle Muse

I received this Fastrider Deluxe Shopper Bicycle PannierfromBicycle Muse(a sponsor in July-August ) as part of an equal value exchange. Prior to trying this bag, I was not a big fan of single panniers and have never found one that I liked. But when I received the Fastrider, I changed my mind.



Here is a front view of the pannier. You can see that it does not interfere with the lines of the bicycle, which I like very much.The setup allows me to leave the beautiful custom rack on this bike unobscured, while enjoying the benefit of a roomy container that can be attached or removed in seconds.

To my eye, this pannier has a classic, timeless look to it that will go nicely with any vintage or classic bicycle. The style may be too quaint for some, but it suits my taste perfectly. One reason I have not been able to find a pannier I like, is that they tend to be either too industrial looking, or too "girly" - in the sense that they come in bright colours and highly stylized patterns like florals or polka-dots or paisley. Now, imagine showing up to a dinner and discovering that you are wearing the exact same outfit as one of the other guests. If it's a grey suit you are both wearing, the coincidence is not even noticeable. But if you're both wearing the exact same brightly coloured print, it's embarrassing. That is more or less how I feel when it comes to bicycle accessories, which is why I like mine to be subdued. Plus, a neutrally coloured pannier will match your outfit no matter what colour it is. A pink paisley pannier will not.



The pannier material is water-resistant woven pine. The surface is tactile, yet smooth. The colour is a warm caramel (there is also a lighter colouravailable). Underneath the flap (which secures with velcro strips allowing for different degrees of fulness) is a zipper opening. The flap and zipper together pretty much ensure that the closure does not let in water. (These panniers are made by the Dutch company Fastrider, so I am guessing water-proofing was a top priority.)



Not sure whether my pictures portray this adequately, but this pannier is huge. Dimensions are: 15.5" width, 14.5" height, 6.3" depth. The fabric-lined interior is enormously deep, and has what I initially thought were dividers for compartments, but are in fact stiffeners (I nonetheless use them as compartment dividers and find that they work in that capacity!). There is also a large, zippered internal pocket (large enough to fit a medium notebook and other accessories) and a smaller pocket that will fit a wallet or phone. You can see how much room is left over inside the bag after I place my Macbook Air inside it. If you are compulsive about your laptop, you will probably want to get a sleeve for it, as my makeshift "dividers" do not reach all the way to the top. That is the one drawback to the design - but then, it was meant to be a "shopper,"not an office bag. Otherwise, everything is fantastic for my purposes. This bag will easily fit my laptop, work-related documents, and a few days' worth of groceries.



The pannier attaches to a bicycle rack with a system of 3 plastic hooks on metal spring hinges. They are quick and easy to attach and remove; the process takes just a few seconds.



Here is a close-up. The middle hook curles under to firmly clasp the rack's tubing and can be adjusted to be tighter or looser. The two outside hooks act as extra weight supports. Plastic hooks are another reason I had been staying away from single panniers - they all seem to have them. But again and again I am told that these types of hooks are safe and are designed to withstand the weight. So - fine. I like this pannier so much that I am ready to believe that. (Any words of assurance or admonition?)



View from the non-pannier side. The handles flop to the sides, but they are not long enough to get stuck in the spokes, so leaving them that way is fine.



Pannier in motion. It attaches firmly to the rack, and there is no jiggling or movement, as far as I can tell.



It is pretty clear at this point that I love the pannier.Bicycle Museoffered me a choice of products, and I am glad to have selected this one.My plan now is to transfer the contents of my work-bag to the pannier, and share it between several bicycles. Of course, time will tell how the pannier will hold up, and I will update regarding durability once sufficient time passes.



edited to add: It is 6 months later, and I love the pannier. To my embarrassment, it took me a while to figure out that what I thought were dividers were in fact compartment stiffeners, and I've changed the text of the review so as not to mislead. Having gone through the rainy Autumn and part of winter with this pannier, I am pleased with how waterproof it is and how resistant to abuse. There is some minor fraying of the "wicker" near the hooks, but I think that is to be expected. I wish there were a smaller, equally classic version of a Fastrider pannier available in the US that would fit bikes with shorter chainstays.



edited to add: Over 1 year since the review, and the bag is no worse for wear. It survived a New England winter unflinchingly and the hooks are holding up fine so far. I own a couple of other panniers now, but this one is my designated "shopper."

The Pashley Guv'nor: A Retrogrouch's Dream

When borrowing bikes from Portland Velocipede, I had thought the Co-Habitant might like to try something entirely new, like a Gazelle or a Brompton. But he is a die-hard Pashley fan and seized the opportunity to ride the Pashley Guv'nor.The man is not overly fond of writing, so I will do my best to communicate his impressions - though the picture above pretty much says it all.



The Pashley Guv'nor is modeled on the 1930s Path Racer, and its faithfulness to this concept is remarkable. The frame is relaxed, with the same frame geometry and 28" wheel size as the Pashley Roadster. But while the Roadster is made of high-tensile steel (heavy, utilitarian), the Guv'nor is made of Reynold's 531 tubing (super light, high-end).



Additionally, the Guv'nor features fancier lugwork, and is equipped with sportier and more luxurious components - such as the racy upside down "North Rroad" handlebars, a Nitto stem, leather grips, and a Brooks B17 Titanium saddle. It is available as a single speed or a 3-speed, and a crazy limited edition with 4 speeds and golden lugs exists as well.



The Guv'nor is fitted with cream Schwalbe Delta Cruiser tires, and it intentionally lacks fenders. No lights or racks either. Like a traditional path racer, this bicycle has a high bottom bracket and horizontal chain stays. Because of the high bottom bracket and theslack seat tube, there is a huge amount of seat post showing, which exaggerates the aggressive appearance. Although the Co-Habitant's Roadster has the same amount of exposed seat tube, this is disguised by the huge rails and springs of the Brooks B-33 saddle that the Roadster is fitted with. The flat and unsprung B17 on the Guv'nor, on the other hand, leavesevery millimeter exposed.



Front and rear drum brakes give the bicycle a clean appaerance.



They also allow for black rims with golden pinstriping (not really captured in the pictures, but it's there).



Drivetrain and track fork ends. The one aspect of the Guv'nor's components the Co-Habitamt dislikes are the cranks; he thinks they are "ugly" - though personally, I do not think they are bad looking.



Close-up of the handlebars, with brass bell and retro-style Sturmey Archer 3-speed shifter.



The vintage-looking shifter is a nice touch.



As I didon the Abici, the Co-Habitant rode around Portland, Maine on the Guv'nor - even taking it along into a dining establishment. No one seemed to mind and the bicycle received compliments.



The Pashley Guv'nor, waiting for hisbeer and calamari.Unlike the Pashley Roadtser, it is extremely easy to maneuver and drag around due to its light weight.



In terms of ride quality, the Guv'nor handles like a cross between a roadster and a road bike. It is very light, fast, and maneuverable - yet also stately. Some aspects of the geometry can take getting used to: Because the saddle is so far back due to the slack seat tube (plus the seat post has set-back), the handlebars are extremely far away. The Co-Habitant thinks that Pashley should have either used a shorter stem, or a seat post with no set-back; otherwise the posture feels too extreme - especially in combination with the slack seat tube and the forward position of the pedals.



Riding the bike around town was tremendous fun for the Co-Habitant, and of course he would love to own such a bike in a world unhindered by practical considerations. But the Guv'nor woud hardly be a reasonable choice for regular commuting, given its lack of fenders and lights. And while in theory, these could be installed, doing so would ruin the authentic Path Racer look - which is the very heart of the concept behind the Guv'nor. Ultimately, theGuv'norwas not designed for practicality and makes no claims to be a daily commuter. It is a trophy-bike, meantto be taken out in fair weather and enjoyed for its unique ride quality and vintage aesthetics. More than anything, it is the concept itself that is impressive: Pashleycreated this bicycle true to the original and made it painfully handsome in the process.



Many thanks toPortland Velocipedefor loaning out this bicycle.

Tombstone Tuesday :: Elizabeth Helms Jones

They (whoever "they" are) say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. So, I hope that Amy Crow over at Amy’s Genealogy, etc. Blog is flattered that I am helping myself to her theme of "Tombstone Tuesday" for a series of blog posts. . . Thanks for the inspiration, Amy!

I have a large "collection" of photos of gravestones from various cemeteries that I've visited and plan to eventually post them at Find A Grave. But until that happens, I thought I'd occasionally post some of the family grave photos here at kinexxions.


Masonic Section, Greenhill Cemetery, Columbia City, Indiana

OUR MOTHER / Elizabeth B. Jones / DIED / Nov. 17, 1883. / AGED / 79 Yrs. 7 Mo. 14 Ds.

The text inscribed below her age is not legible.

My post on Grandma Jones, whose maiden name was Helms, was one of the first ancestor biographies that I posted here at kinexxions.

Life Goes On

(Photo: X-Ray showing my broken ankle. Diagnosis: fracture- ankle, medial malleolus, closed.)

One year ago today, I broke my ankle rock climbing.

In part, I started this little blog in order to force myself to write about it. But I've been struggling with what to say about it for a year now, and I'm afraid that struggle isn't over.

My accidenthappened on a Gunks climb called Insuhlation (5.9). I fell justafter the final crux roof. I pulled over the roof with no problems, but there was a wet hold above the roof that I suppose I failed to use well. Or maybe my foot popped, I'm not sure. Truthfully, I don't know exactly why I fell. I had my right hand on the semi-jug above the wet hold. I was looking around for pro; my last piece was a green Alien a few feet below the roof. And then I was off.

I recall with vivid clarity the sensation of falling. Time suddenly slowed to a crawl, and I saw my half ropesin a parabolic arcabove me as I flew back outward from the rock. It seemed as if I had a good long time in midair to consider that this might not end well. I remember thinking "this is it!" ...but I'm not sure what I had "it" in mind to be. I yelled out "falling," and then things sped up considerably. I flipped upside-down and then the rope came tight on the green Alien, which held, and I came to a stop, hanging in the air with my head where my feet should have been.

As I righted myself, I realized I was injured. I couldn't understand why I'd flipped over. The rope wasn't behind my leg. And I hadn't felt a thing. There was no impact at all that I had sensed. So why was my ankle tender and starting to swell? I asked my partner N to lower me to the ledge. The pair climbing next to us onObstacle Delusion retrieved my gear on rappel and filledus in on what had happened. "You flipped over when your ankle hit the rock," one of them said. So it seemed there was an impact, but in the adrenaline-pumped moment I hadn't felt it. At least itall made sense now, even if the explanation didn't jibe with what my mind had allowed me to experience.

Thinking it was just a sprain, I hobbled the whole way from the High Exposure access trail back to the steel bridge, refusing numerous offers of assistance from concerned strangers. The best and the worst of the Trapps in autumn were on display. People were kind and supportive, but there were far too many of them. At one point I stopped to rest in the Uberfall area and counted over thirty climbers in my immediate field of vision, all of them looking at me in a pitying way that made me very uncomfortable. N thought we shouldsummon the rangers, but I insisted that if I could evacuate myselfwe shouldn't initiate a rescue. I now recognize that this was a stupidmistake. I really don't think it made my ankle any worse, but if I'd listened to N, we would have had the benefit of the advice of first responders, and I would likely have been taken to a hospital for an x-ray right away instead of waiting 24 hoursand only thenfinding out the ankle was broken and required surgery. It also would have put much less pressure on N, who ended up having the sole responsibility of babying me all the way back to Brooklyn.

In the aftermath of the accidentI was overwhelmed with guilty feelings. The source of these feelings was hard to pin down. I felt guilty about inconveniencing my wife.She'd have to pick up the kids every day and do all the cooking for months to come. I also felt guilty that I'd made whatever climbing mistake I must have made to get into this mess. I blamed myself for the accident, although I had a hard time deciding what it was I'd done wrong. I also felt a lot of guilt about imposing my injury on N. I entertained totally unfounded fears that she'd never climb with me again, and that all my other climbing partners might desert me as well.

Amidst all this I wondered if I really was feeling most guilty about climbing in the first place. Was I taking pains to find fault with my climbing on that fateful day because I needed to avoid confronting something harder to deal with? Was my accident really a reminderthat even if you do everything right when you climb, even if you place gear liberally and it holds, you can still get hurt? Was it a sign that I should quit,that climbing is unacceptably dangerous? Certainly a number of people, from my doctor to my mother to my wife's colleagues, assumed that my broken ankle would be thewake-up callI needed to make me come to my senses and stop this climbing nonsense, as any responsible husband and fatherwould.

I did not want to quit. Although I didn't know how I'd feel getting out there on the rock again, I was sure, as I sat around recovering and gaining twenty pounds, that I would missclimbing terribly if I stopped doing it. But I didn't want to be a bad husband and father. I had to ask myself if climbing could be done reasonably, or whetherthe dangers were such that no amount of rock climbingcould be consideredsane.

I read numerous classics of mountaineering literature searching for the answer, to no avail.Many great mountaineers have wrestled with the question of why we are drawn to climbing, and whether the dangers are worth it. Some embracethe risk, declaring danger to beat the verycore of the climbing experience. Othersfocus instead onthe many other wonderful aspects of the sport-- the scenery, the adventure, the physical and mental challenge, theconnectionwith nature-- but throw up their hands at the death toll and ultimately leave the question of whether it is all worthwhile to a higher power.

Of course, these writers are considering a different sport than the one in which I participate. They are writing about climbing real mountains and pushing the very limits of the possible. They choose to face objective hazards that cannot be managed, such as altitude sickness, avalanches, and sudden deadly changes in the weather. And in order toexpand the boundaries of what can be climbed, they deliberately go without reasonable protection on climbs that are incredibly risky,forging ahead on blank, smoothrock facesand through rotten bands of ice. These writers would think nothing of the climbing I do in the Gunks on a two hundred foot cliff that has been fully explored, with every route to the top exhaustively indexed by its difficulty and protection rating. To them the risks taken by a weekend warrior likemehardly qualify as risks at all.

And yet there are risks in any climbing environment, no matter how tame that environment is. In the Gunks, for instance, there have been very few fatalities over the years, but less than fatal accidents occurratherfrequently. Lapses in judgment lead climbers to forget crucial steps in the climbing process. Theyrappel off the ends of their ropes, or drop their partners. Objective hazards exist: rocks fall down. And no matter how much difficulty and protection grades may sanitize a climb, it is still easy to wander off route, to miss a crucial gear placement,or otherwiseto find oneself in territory where a fall could be disastrous. Gear that seems solid may pull out; it is hard even for experienced climbers to dependably judge placements of climbing gear. And finally, as my accident demonstrates, even if the gear is solid you can get hurt in any fall.

It is often pointed out by climbers that many sports carry dangers, and that climbing is actually less dangerous thancommon daily activities like driving a car. This may be true, but we are not forced to choose a dangerous sport in which to participate. We don't have to choose climbing just because it isn't as crazy as BASE jumping. We can shun all sports involving danger if it is the right thing to do. And while driving a car may wellbe more dangerous than climbing, we live in a world in which we can't escape the car. We have no choice about it. Climbing is different. It is a luxury we can well afford to drop.

But I couldn't bear to drop it.After my accident I was desperate to find a rationale for continuing to climb, a way to go forward but feel I was being reasonable and safe about it.

I wish I could tell you that I figured out the answer to this problem. I wish I could say thatI developed a calculus to determine how much danger is acceptable. I wish I could offer you a climbing plan that is 100 percent risk-free, or tell you that I located the perfect spot on the climbing danger continuum at which adventure is maximized but life-threatening hazards are minimized. But obviously I did none of these things.

Instead I decided to wade back into climbingslowly and to take it easy, minimizing risk by minimizing difficulty. Even this simple plan was a difficult one for me to execute, because I like to challenge myself. But aside from a few lapses I mostly stuck with it, avoiding leading harderclimbs all year, being willing to follow other folks' desires and ambitions more than my own, and repeating a bunch of favorite climbs instead of always seeking out new ones.

At first, I found that my accident had wreaked havoc with my lead head. I was tentative on the lead, becoming paralyzed at crux momentsI never would have worried about in the past. On more than one occasion this year I fell or took a hang because I simply couldn't commit to the move atthe crucial moment of a climb. The irony of this situation wasn't lost on me-- before the accident I pretty much never fell while climbing, but afterward, while trying to go easy and safe, I found myself falling or hanging on gear with some frequency. This seemed like madness, and made me wonder what the hell I was doing out there at all.

But I'm happy to report that over time my head improved (although not completely). I lost a good bit of the weight I gained and I alsotried through the year to become a better technical climber with a better awareness of balance and footwork than I had in the past. I see increased proficiency as a path towards feeling confident enough to progress back up the grades in the future. At some point this year I gave up on having any big climbing achievements in . It has been a rebuilding year.I haven't led a single pitch of trad 5.9 all year, and I'm fine with that. I recently followed a few, and they felt laughably easy. I take that as a good sign, and I plan to put that good feeling in my pocket for the winter, work really hard in the gym through the cold months, and emerge in the spring with confidence thatI can soon begin leadingharder climbsagain, breaking back into 5.9 and maybe even 5.10. And I hopethat whenI doso the climbs willfeel secure, and not beyond my limits.

So I have continued to climb, and life goes on. I can't assure anyone that I have made the right decision. But I can promise I'm more careful than I used to be, with the unfortunate side effect that I'm also more tentative. I am more willing to back off, and I will be much slower about working up the grades, more conscious of my limits. On the whole I believe I'm moving in the right direction. And that's the best balance I thinkI can achieve.

A quick visit to Freetown Christiania: a place for hippies, not for me

In Copenhagen, Denmark, there exists a free town where you can do whatever you want and be whoever you want yourself to be. The residents to date in this Copenhagen enclave are less than a thousand and the whole area covers about 34 hectares located in the suburb of Christianshavn.

There are no hard rules here except for the following:

When visiting, make sure to pay attention to these otherwise you will be pulled out from the crowd. The residents of Christiania are known to have smashed cameras so I made sure to keep my camera out of sight. No pictures and no running in the Green Zone. The Green Zone is the heart/centre of Christiania.

So Christiania was high up in my list of places in Copenhagen to visit. Just out of curiosity really. What is a town like without any legal form of entity? Where everything is free going and people can be whoever they wanted themselves to be? People here can do whatever they want? Yup, I was really, really curious!

Like San Marino in Italy, Lichtenstein in Switzerland and Monaco in France, Christiania is officially an autonomous state within Denmark. For more information, go google it =)

Ludvigsen, the co-author of Christiania's mission statement (circa 1971) wrote this:

“The objective of Christiania is to create a self-governing society whereby each and every individual holds themselves responsible over the wellbeing of the entire community. Our society is to be economically self-sustaining and, as such, our aspiration is to be steadfast in our conviction that psychological and physical destitution can be averted.”

But I must say though that Christiania is not for me. Alas, we didn’t click. There were no butterflies in my stomach at first sight. I am not the hippie ‘flower power-love-peace’ type of gal who wears harem pants, have nose piercings and spends her days doing yoga and meditations. I don’t smoke hash and I don’t use cocaine as well. Although I do not believe in marriage I see sex conservatively. I also don’t like living in huts and derelict houses with graffiti, hygiene challenged and poverty-stricken environment around me.

Moreover, freedom for me is a very important form of expression, but I believe that with freedom comes responsibility, and that means adhering to certain guidelines.

On the positive side, it was good to have visited Christiania, albeit rather quick. I was able to see it and experience just a little bit what this world is all about. Further than that, I didn’t really have any reason to stay longer. I felt so out of place there. Do not get me wrong though because it’s actually a fun place with lots of shops, cafes and restaurants but it’s just not my cup of tea.

A few months ago, a Danish colleague from our EMEA headquarters was my visitor in the Netherlands. While we were in the car driving to a client, I confessed that I was in Copenhagen last April. Our conversation led to the subject of Christiania.

He said, ‘Christiania is the answer to tolerance in Denmark, just as the coffee shops and red light districts are to the Netherlands.‘

Hmm... you know, he could be right.

Here are the pictures, outside of the Green Zone of course:

And now I am entering the Green Zone. This is the moment where I stopped taking pictures.

When in Copenhagen, do try to visit this enclave and experience for yourself a different kind of world. Maybe you and Christiania will click? Who knows.

Pecan Trees

Pecans are a major business in the Las Cruces, NM area. At this season they were turning their fall shade of yellow and the leaves were flying off. In one place it was like driving down a road under an archway of pecan tree branches. There were several other cars stopped to take photos. In the 1st photo you can see the irrigation ditch that takes water to the trees in the spring and summer. The pecan nuts had already been harvested. I couldn't find even one nut laying under the trees. The machines that pick the nuts are very efficient. There are lots of shops that sell all kinds of pecan candy, cakes, muffins and other goodies made with the nuts. I have heard that the pollen from the flowers can cause a lot of allergies for some people and that the insecticides used on the trees bother a lot of people.

Childs Cup

These cups were very popular in 1950's. The little bird on the handle is a whisle and it says 'Whisle for Milk' on the bottom. This one was mine. I found them on line and they are worth about $5.00 now and sold for 39 cents orginally.

Bruce Gordon Was Nice to Me

I spotted him in the shadows, at the back of the exhibition hall. It was unexpected. This was Interbike after all, not NAHBS. But there he was, behind a big beautiful red bike with Bruce Gordon decals, underneath a banner with the mysterious word SOPWAMTOS (which, I soon learn, is the Society of People Who Actually Make Their Own Sh!t). A broad-shoulderd, slightly slouchy, gray-haired man with the face of a Soviet literary dissident circa the 1960s. I would give anything to have the writing skills to describe Bruce Gordon's facial features and expression. But alas, I must struggle. Coyly suspicious? Exuberantly grumpy? Playfully defiant? Something like that.






If you don't already know, Bruce Gordon is a framebuilder out in Petaluma, California. One of the best, they say. One of those guys who has been at it for decades, one of the legends. At a loss for words from the bizarre charm of his physical presence, I blurt out something generic about being pleased to meet him. In reply he laughs with a bitterness that is masterful in its combination of sincerity and theatrics. "If I could go back and do something else with my life, trust me I would!" he snorts. "So... want a bike?" Out of curiosity I ask about the wait list. "I am all caught up," he says, "no wait list. You can go ahead and write that on your blog" (the last word is accompanied by a playfully-scornful - or maybe not so playfully, this is ambiguous by design - roll of the eyes. But who cares. Bruce Gordon has no wait list? Okay, I will write that.)








Next we discuss his famousDangerous Pointy Brakes, which I'd recently tried on one of Pamela Blalock's bikes and discovered to be surprisingly functional (unlike most other cantis I've tried). He was pleased to hear this. For a small fortune the brakes could be mine. Alas I had neither the required sum, nor a bike on which these superior brakes could go. But yes, I would mention them on my "blog."






What can I say. I could have moved along at that point. But I don't know when to quit. And no, that's not even it. In truth, I was a little smitten. I wanted this man to keep talking. I wanted to study his face and figure out what or whom it reminded me of.






So I stuck around, touched the bike, asked questions. He quickly grew suspicious of how much I seemed to know about frame geometry and such. "Oh don't tell me. You're planning to become a framebuilder!" I assured him that I was not, but confessed that I might be building a frame for myself shortly. Nothing serious. Just to give it a try. But becoming a framebuilder, no. I understand the amount of training that requires; I know that earning a living that way is next to impossible. "You're damn right it's impossible." And thus began a speech about the horrors and deceptions of the pipe dream of becoming a framebuilder that claims hopeful innocents of my generation by the dozen. Bruce Gordon's opinion on the matter is basically a more extreme version ofthis. "If I could save just one young person from becoming a framebuilder, I would die happy," he tells me. I believe him, and promise to never become a framebuilder.






He eyes me with sadness and shakes his head. He asks what I used to do for a living before the tragedy of succumbing to bikes. I tell him briefly, and soon we are talking about bikes as one would talk about a disease. He tells me some personal stuff, I reciprocate. We commiserate. Before I know it, the conversation begins to resemble the sort of jaded, weepy, vodka-fueled exchange that takes place at around 3 in the morning. Except this is Interbike, high noon, and I am sober.






The following day, I walked by the booth again and gave Bruce Gordon an uncertain wave. I genuinely did not think he'd remember me; it was as if our conversation the day before had been something I'd imagined. But he did remember. And then he gave me this pin. It's a limited edition. The regular one reads "Bruce Gordon was rude to me."




And that is my story of meeting Bruce Gordon. You should buy one of his bikes. I hear they are good and he's all caught up on his wait list.