Long Holiday Weekends, Perfect Weather, and the Red Light Of Death (like a computer's blue screen of death, only this is a bike's version)
Labor Day weekend (a US holiday) is comprised of three days - Saturday, Sunday, and Monday during the first weekend of September. It was the first perfect weekend we had with stellar temps since springtime- the first after a long, exhaustingly hot, brutal, humid summer. It was the perfect weekend for riding a bike. Which is what I did. All three days. Without fail. But not without failure. Let me explain...
Many years ago, when I winter vacationed at my sister's house in Key West (a unashamedly hedonistic and wildly enthusiastic party island, the terminus on a chain of coral islands at the bottom of Florida) I had a beach bike. A Huffy brand. A single speed. A heavy steel tanker that could hold its own against a hurricane, or alligator, and keep on pedaling. It weighed a metric ton, and each day I loaded its frame with a pile of beach accoutrements that would have sagged a donkey's knees. (Somewhere I have a picture of it - just have to find it to share). I loved that bike. Being it was a Key West bike, which translates to it being a ridden work of art (there are Facebook pages devoted to artwork painted on Key West bikes), it became a canvas for my paintbrush, a delightful, quirky pedal equipped gayly painted statement for all the things Key West is famous for. Lights were festooned on the frame and wheels for riding at night, mainly for the entertainment of the Duval Street crowds (think Marti Gras in the French Quarter every night, but just one very long street long ). It was a workhorse by day and a festive ride at night. Did I mention it weighed a metric ton?
But, I digress. I did love that bike and I rode it everywhere around that small island. Not just once a day, but often 3 to 4 times. And it trashed my knee. Big time, long time. This was years ago, and my knee has never fully recovered.
Now, keeping this in mind that that damage to my knee was the catalyst for sending me down the electric bike rabbit hole , here we are 7 years later (time does fly when we're having fun) cruising down my local, much beloved gravel roads, riding a Giant "LaFree" which can be said (with a slight shrug of the shoulders for emphasis and a side eye at Giant themselves) is a beach bike electrified. The LaFree checks all the beach bike boxes - looks, form, and weight. Especially the weight. Fun bike...as long as the motor and battery play their part. It is the first day of the holiday and my plan was a nice 30 mile ride around the neighborhood on the gravel roads, the wind in my hair and a smile on my face, my GPS dutifully logging my miles at 5 going on 6 when ... I happened to glance down at my ride control to up the assist and saw a rarely seen LED glowing bright red warning me that there was a big problem brewing with the bike. I immediately stopped the bike and stared at the glowing red light. I hadn't a clue what it meant other than something was wrong. The assist lights, of which there are 5, now only glowed at Assist 1. The battery indicator was fine, and the bike still felt great. So I did what any self respecting IT person would do. I rebooted the bike.
Lo and behold, it worked. (Of course it did. When faced with the "blue screen of death" on a computer the default is always to reboot). The "red light of death" went away, and the ride control was back to normal and the bike happy to resume our ride...for the next 3 miles at any rate. Then it happened again. I stopped and frowned at the control, still not sure what the bike was trying to tell me other than this problem was starting to become a habit. I rebooted, the bike's ride control lights came back to normal, and off we went again. Please note that all throughout the bike never missed a beat, performing quite capably without flaw, never an indication that anything was wrong other than lighting up the "red light of death" every few miles.
But now I was spooked, and my attention turned from the beautiful passing scenery to watching the LED festooned face of the ride control with an eagle eye. Sure enough, within 2 miles, the red light of death blinked back into existance. And I suddenly realised the very real probability that my electric bike was on the cusp of turning into a Key West beach bike, without the advantage of a dead flat island landscape to get home. No, I lived next to the mountains, and our roads would be generously terms "rolling" if not downright hilly. Making a metric ton bike feel like two metric tons. I felt my knee twinge in abject fear.
Fortunately, I was a mere 3 miles from home which, after rebooting the bike once again, was no problem to return, park the bike in the garage, take a moment to calm my poor terrified knee that things were going to be OK, and then hop on the other electric bike (the Vado) to finish out the ride which ended up being only 22 miles rather than 30, but that's another story altogether. My old endurance friend 100 miles south of me texted later that day to tell me that she (on her Vado) had done 32 miles with her club that morning and they had been passed by tons of cyclists out setting the roads on fire they were moving so fast. One group even had a pace car. None of those groups even acknowledged her club. She added a sad face emojie. I suggested those groups were probably Tour de France wannabes. She said the club was doing a 40 mile ride on Monday. I texted back that I was pea green with envy, but I'm still not ready for group rides because my husband is high risk. And the Rona is not to be taken lightly. So it will remain just me and the Vado and the open road.
One day down, two more to go.
The Vado and I were now out to ensure we took full cycling advantage of the second day. Us ... and an entire flotilla of suburban and urban cyclists who come out to the countryside to cruise our roads on fast 3 ounce skinny bikes, all riding in tight groups with gusto and determined faces. I waved to them all, and they all wave back, their determined faces lighting up for a brief smile of shared solidarity. I left them to ride my roads while the Vado and I headed south to our favorite paved road loop in the lower county.
It was soul satisfying to feel the power of this sweet bike under me with nary a glimmer of any "red light of death", and I found I could study the passing countryside with a relaxing detached amusement. A double change has brightened up this familiar loop - the autumn flowers have appeared. The heady deep purple-pink of New York Ironweed is now painting tall spots of bright color into the deep greens of waning summer, and the brilliant yellows of Tickseed, a kissing cousin to the summer daisy, is festooning acres of lowland fields and stream beds in a sunshine captured by thousands of pretty wildflower petals.
I am in love with the views on this 24 mile loop, especially the one below.
Part of the loop includes a very peaceful 3 mile gravel road back in my own county not too many miles from home. To my surprise I bumped into an old neighbor walking this same road with two dogs and an friend. She and I had met when my husband and I had moved down to Virginia 33 years ago. While we see each other from time to time, it is always fun to catch up. So the Vado waited patiently, and the two dogs took to playing and splashing around in the creek next to the road while the three humans chatted away. Our gossip was briefly interrupted by a touring cyclist making his way slowly down the road. I recognized the touring panniers, and the fact that he wasn't intent upon setting the quiet gravel road on fire from speed, that this person was geared for distance and days with his bike as his sole companion. I'm a fan of crazyguyonabike.com - one of the best websites for bike touring journals and blogs there is - and I'm always delighted to see a touring cyclist in person and to hear about their goals . He stopped and happily engaged in conversation, detailing how he had started in Washington DC this morning, and was almost at his destination (Sky Meadows State Park against the Blue Ridge mountains) just a few miles down the road in Paris (Virginia, not France). He was riding a Surley - which I explained to my neighbor and her friend is the quintessent touring cycle, bar none. The rider, a 20something with a big smile, a true gentleman through and through, was on a 4 day tour. After that, he wasn't sure where he would be going, but just to be starting out and meet three nice ladies who were delighted to give him an alternative route that didn't encompass riding on a fast major highway, without shoulders I may add, to get to his destination, may have been one of the highlights of his day. I certainly hoped so.
After he said goodbye and gently rolled off down the road, I said my goodbyes to my old neighbor and her friend, and their two wet-from-playing-in-the-creek tongue lolling happy canines, and let my bike take me home. It was a lovely day filled with beautiful scenery, catching up with old neighbors, and exchanging greetings with a touring cyclist who was off on an adventure that I can only dream of. One day, maybe, that adventure will be realized for me. To go on a tour, just me and my bike. One day.
Two days down, one to go.
Monday morning I got a text from my cycling neighbor (who had done several supported tours in her early cycling days - lucky her) asking if I wanted to go for a ride. She had just gotten back from a week in the Midwest and needed to unwind. Not a problem for me. I was game, plus we needed to catch up on the news anyway. She biked from her place to mine, and we took off down the gravel roads, riding side by side on our Vados so we could freely chat. We probably could have gone a lot further than 15 miles if we'd concentrated on cycling like those other bikers passing us by instead of stopping at every corner to continue our conversation at a standstill. That said we still had a great time, and we parted ways once close to home as she had to hustle back to her place to prevent being late for a zoom meeting.
I myself settled down into the lounge chair on the deck to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, first pulling up the online manuel for the LaFree to see if it could tell me anything about the red light of death. It was brief in explanation - something about it being a battery issue, and strongly advising that if rebooting didn't eliminate the problem permanently (it didn't) then a trip to the bike shop to get a diagnosis was in order. Will do that Wednesday when the shop is open. I plan on pulling today into the cadre of a "holiday extension" and take off for another adventure this morning on my bike. The weather is too nice to do otherwise. I'll be sure to let you know how we fare.
I cycled this route one winter and there were 5ft snowbanks on each side of the road, thankfully the road was fine though!
This may well be my last ride until next weekend if I get the call to return to work as expected! Yet more highland cows today @Art Deco , even a black one which you don't see very often!
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