Quick report about the MS ride

If you read the last post, you know that the local chapter of the national SM society held a bicycle ride this weekend. Actually, two chapters got together to hold it. About two dozen of us motorcyclists were marshals. Everyone was repeatedly appreciative of our work.
Davis and I rode up Friday afternoon, riding the route backwards to check the signage and familiarize ourselves a bit more with the terrain, so to speak. We fixed a few corners that were easy to miss. Got to the friend's place about dusk, showered and crashed.
We arose about 4AM Saturday, found a gas station that was open and snarfed down some breakfast. The park was already active when we arrived. We gathered up our gear—safety vest, signal flag, detailed route sheets, first aid kit, and a couple inner tubes. We got our instructions and headed out. I've marshaled events like this several times, so they paired me with a new marshal, who rides what has to be the most uncomfortable-looking Motorcycle I've ever seen. One of those Italian crotch rockets. —Now I remember, a Ducati. The idea was for us all to take turns riding along the line of cyclists checking on their health ("Feeling ok? Got water?") and managing traffic at troublesome intersections.
600 people on bicycles (I saw one reclining bike, one tandem) makes for a long line, and they certainly didn't stay together. Besides that, the event had four routes, depending on how far you wanted to ride (one was 100 miles, each way). Population density ranged from several bikes at once to one rider every ten or fifteen minutes. We spent a lot of time in the sun (did I mention it was in the high 90's?) chatting, waiting for someone to come along.
But I got to ride all over rural eastern PA. The scenery varied from vistas of hundreds of farms to deep woods. It was deep Amish country, so you had to watch out for horse exhaust. The stuff is slippery. Roads were mostly pretty good, but in a couple places the driveways were nicer than the patched stretch that called itself a road.
We arrived at Millersville University tired and hungry. The hospitality was great. The food (and it was good) was free, and the dorm rooms included linens.
At supper I sat across from a young lady, one of the marshals, whom I had figured was one of the lady Mac-Pac members, because I recognized her, but didn't know her name, and she said she had seen me around. She is from VA, rode up for the event. Later we figured out that we had apparently met in Jacksonville FL, where we had both qualified for our Iron Butt Association membership. That was three or four years ago, and neither of us remember meeting, but we were both there, so we must have. The mind is a funny thing.
Sunday was about like Saturday, except the very end of the ride got rained out, and I rode home through the tail ind of a big thunderstorm. Not being made of sugar, I didn't melt. But I'm tired, so goodnight.

Motorcycle content!

The Delaware Valley chapter of the National Multiple Sclerosis Society is holding a 100-mile bicycle ride this weekend. Here's a link to the event. Lots of people will pay a registration fee (and collect a bunch of donations), hop on their bicycles (well, I suppose they'll transport their bikes to the starting point), and ride all day Saturday the 24th and Sunday the 25th. Of July, 2010. Even though they'll be riding through some pretty rural parts of PA, they'll have intersections to cross and traffic to deal with. For some of the participants the event will be a race. Bicycles and intersections aren't a very good mix, let alone racing bicycles.



Enter the marshals. These folks are volunteer motorcyclists armed with spare inner tubes, water, cell phones, a bit of first aid, and traffic control training. They ride the route ahead of and alongside the cyclists to provide safe crossing of intersections and a modicum of protection from other road hazards. For some reason, this year marshals have been hard to come by—as far as I know only two from my club are participating. Those two are a guy who goes by his last name, Davis, and me. He's a crusty old sailor with a heart of gold, I'm his conscript.

Weather is forecast to be sunny and beastly hot. As in record-breaking. I think I'll carry all the water I can manage.

We are taking off work at noon Friday—we plan to ride most of the route backwards (the Sunday direction) to make sure all the signs are still in place and easy to see. We'll spend the night at a home only ten miles from the starting point. The guy's wife has MS.

We show up at the park in Green Lane, PA at 5:30 Saturday morning, ride all day, and spend the night at Millersville University. Sunday we do the whole thing in reverse. Gotta keep an eye on those Amish buggies, y'know.

Thoughtful review of a thought-provoking book

Regular readers know I'm somewhat of the green/healthy/peacable bent (though I draw the line at certain predators—I prefer to do my own predating). You also know I'm an academic sort, what with my predilection for correct grammar, large library, affinity for researching the facts, enjoyment of science in general, and fund of abstruse information. (Did you know yesterday was Hank Thoreau's birthday? And that he invented raisin bread?)

I just finished a book that I must recommend. Although some of what the author offers in the solution department is simplistic (otoh, how much can you fit into a single book. I'm pretty sure there's more content than what's in the book), The main content is not only well presented and persuasive, but it's copiously footnoted and bibliographied—my kind of book.

The book is The Vegetarian Myth, by Lierre Keith, and you ought to read it. (Lierre rhymes with Pierre)

Much of the book aligns with what I already know, and adds details that tie a lot of things together for me. It delves into anthropology, history, chemistry, nutrition, biology--practically every science that deals with the earth and things living on it. The melange is fascinating; I could hardly put it down.

The book's position is that the philosophy of vegetarianism is flawed. Not in goals, but in its tactics. If I may be simplistic: the goal of vegetarianism is to work toward a better earth, and better health. Vegetarianism's tactic is to not eat meat. The book shows in convincing detail that vegetarianism accomplishes neither of these goals.

I don't want to spoil things by telling you too much—I'd rather you give the book a read. For one thing, if I summarize, you won't get the background and supporting information that's in the book, and what I say might not be so convincing. The book is addressed to vegetarians, but the information certainly applies to all of us. For my part, I'm glad that I'm doing so many things right already. The other stuff, I'll have to think about, but I have already changed my eating.

Mayhem and execution-style killing in Mayberry

For all the gruesome titles of posts in this blog, they actually fit, innocuous though this site may be.

First the mayhem, another sad chicken tale. A raccoon got the five small chickens—the two polish and the three bantams. We had been keeping them in a separate cage because the big hens were picking on them, and the other night I didn't notice that their cage door was ajar. I found the bodies, well, three of them, the next morning. As I've said before, predation is part of raising chickens. I baited the live traps with two of the bodies, but as of yesterday afternoon nothing had taken the bait, so to speak.

Now the execution. It's a fact of chicken life that you need only about one rooster for every 20 or so hens. Good life for the surviving rooster, eh? Well, roosters will kill each other if you let them all live in the same compound, and the traditional solution to the problem is to invite all but one of the roosters to dinner. It was time last week (they have started crowing, but haven't started fighting), but Val's grandparents came down and filled the freezer to overflowing, so we had no place for our "guests" to await dinner. Yesterday was the day. We segregated the three loudest (This is easy to do. You let the hens out in the morning, but not the roosters. The coop is small enough that I could select whomever I wanted, then open the door so the hens could return to lay their eggs) and put them in the now vacant bantam cage.

Chickens tend to be fairly cooperative about being handled, once you catch them. I can tuck one under an arm, confining her wings, and they ride along pretty contentedly. That's how we carry the hens. Or we let them perch on our fist, falconry style. The hens are pretty tame.

I wasn't so concerned about the feelings of the roosters, so I carried them upside down, by their feet. For some reason, chickens don't seem to mind this mode of transportation, either. It's like they're captivated by everything being upside down.

I got to do all the work myself. The lady staying with us right now is a City Girl. She brags about collecting eggs and tossing out scratch. Her idea of outdoor work is to work on a tan. Don't even mention snakes in her hearing. (No lie. Don't.) So Val had to take her out shopping so she wouldn't be around to watch or hear me prepare chicken dinner. I used the kosher method of dispatching them. Takes about 25 minutes per bird.

We have three remaining roosters. Two will have to join humans for dinner. If anyone wants to assist me, I'll give them one.

And if anything sets foot in one of those traps, there'll be another execution-style slaying.
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Not that I forgot, but I couldn't fit it into the title: Sunday I got to do a nice 190-mile bike ride. Our boy is at a 2-week Civil Air Patrol camp at McDaniel college in Westminster, MD. 2/3 of the way down there he realized he had forgotten his dress uniform. I made the delivery Sunday morning. The road after you get past Baltimore is pretty nice, and the map looks like it would make a nice cross-country trip next time.

For all you foul-mouthed folks out there

Most people who know me have figured out that I never use profanity or obsceneties of any sort. But let's not say I'm not open minded.
I subscribe to a newsletter called A Word a Day; have for more than a decade. (The site is not nearly as impressive as the newsletter.) This week's theme is ways to use four-letter words without using four-letter words. Here's the gist of Monday's entire article.
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It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it. This week we do it, by showcasing words related to -- well, if the English language made any sense (as in words include/exclude) -- the opposite of increment.
It may sound like a frivolous topic, but it can be a serious business. Besides the common usage of excrement as fertilizer and fuel, it plays a critical role in the making of a very expensive coffee. At least one war has been fought over it.
We've put together five words to engage in some dirty talk, though in some cases you may have to look closer to see the connection. Use the words of this week to say what you have to, without using any four-letter words.

coprolalia

PRONUNCIATION:

(kop-ruh-LAY-lee-uh)

MEANING:

noun: An uncontrollable or obsessive use of obscene language.

ETYMOLOGY:

From Greek copro- (dung) + -lalia (chatter, babbling), from lalein (to talk). [Technically, "lalia" is Koine Greek for "talk." The classical Greek word for "talk" is "legein." "Lalien" was classical for "babble." -reg] A related word is coprolite.

NOTES:

Involuntary coprolalia is found in approximately 15% of the people who suffer from Tourette's syndrome. It has even been observed in deaf people who use sign language -- they swear in sign language.

USAGE:

"That the brain's executive overseer is ablaze in an outburst of coprolalia, Dr. Silbersweig said, demonstrates how complex an act the urge to speak the unspeakable may be."
Natalie Angier; Almost Before We Spoke, We Swore; The New York Times; Sep 20, 2005.
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So there you have it. My wife (an expert on aging) says one symptom of Alzheimers is that you start using language you have repressed all your life. I have no wish to become senile, so I told her if I ever start indulging in profanity, she can take me out behind the barn and shoot me.

On a completely unrelated note: Happy Birthday, Bill!

working weekend

The temps set records last weekend, but, as an old friend said to me once, I'm extremely goal oriented, and I had set a goal to mow the lawn, so that's what I did on Saturday. A word about my lawn-mowing style. I do it for the exercise, so I use a hand-powered reel mower. And I mow one-handed, standing sideways to the mower and pushing it with one hand to my right. Or left, wherever the uncut grass is. If you mix up the direction (right or left) and arm (also right or left, duh), and which way your knuckles face on the handlebar, you get eight different exercises, not to mention taking the occasional break of pushing the mower ahead of you in more or less the traditional way. I've done it this way since high school.
It happens I lock the dog in the house and let the chickens run loose in the yard so they can pick bugs and eat the grass while I mow. Naturally the dogs needed to be let out to relieve himself, so I take him out on the leash. He likes to walk out to the far end of the property (I mow only the yard around the house, not the pasture). When I got to the far fence line, I discovered a neighbor's tree had come down in the last storm! The trunk had broken off about five feet above the ground and the tree fell across two fence lines and the thicket of vines, thorn bushes, and honeysuckle between them.
Guess what I did on Sunday.

Click to enlarge. If you look closely, in the exact center of the picture you can see the end of the trunk where I finally stopped, a foot or so this side of the neighbor's fence and a couple feet in the air. You should also be able to make out our fence, across the lower half of the photo. And there's firewood scattered around that I haven't brought up to the house yet. A guy can only do so much. 

A wren analogue to the chicken story

Some time back I wrote about a bird's nest in my wife's helmet. We had left it on a hook in the shed all summer, and some feathered family took advantage of the cozy location. This weekend I had to work (see tomorrow's post) and no rain was forecast, so I left my helmet on the bike, covering the GPS holder. One day! Yesterday afternoon I noticed a wren flying away from my bike as I approached the area with a load of firewood. So I went over and  looked for droppings, figuring that even though the bike is no garage queen, there was no sense letting that acidic stuff make a permanent stain. No droppings, but a stick peering out from under my helmet. (One day!) I lifted the helmet to find a couple more twigs, and a ring of dust on the tank. One day!! Sorry—no photo; I immediately cleaned out the helmet, dusted off the tank, and went for a quick ride. One day, and the birds make a next in my helmet! I guess I just need to ride more...

A slightly better chicken story

Nobody dies in this one.

We recently expanded our chicken run to extend along the entire north boundary of our property, a stretch of woods that provides good cover for the chickens, and plenty of bugs for them to scratch for. The northwest corner of the property is rather remote (for Delaware), and I happened to notice a channel dug under the fence by some four-legged intruder. It didn't look very used (maybe last time was last summer) but I thought I'd take a little preventive measure just in case. I happen to be fairly protective of our hens, and I've dispatched several chicken predators over the past years.

But I like to know who's looking for an illicit chicken dinner, so I posted a live trap over the opening. I moved the trap as close to the fence as it would go, and even blocked off the sides with debris so the only reasonable route would be for a would-be predator to sashay right into the baitless trap.

Val is a little paranoid, too, and she walked the fence line a day or two ago to check on things. She found not one, but two creatures in the trap—hens! Somehow two of our biddies had managed to climb over the trap and insert themselves through the narrow opening above the front of the trap and get inside together before the one in front managed to trip the trigger. They were crowded into a feathered ball of sorts making plaintive clucks when Val found and released them.

I had gotten a full head count the night before, so the longest they had been trapped was several hours. No harm done.

If I reset the trap they'll probably try to get in again.

Let's play catch-up

Been a while since I posted. Sorry to both of you who read this. I spent the weekend writing for the other two blogs I write, Travel with me (which I write for Serenity Travel Club) and The Writing Rag, my grammar and writing site. I hope you go visit both—I think they are both a half-decent read. They'll both be updated regularly for at least a week--that's how many articles I have in the queues.

Some sad news on the home front. Max developed a fixation on the chickens when he was a puppy, and we have been unable to break him of it. Recently a couple of the hens conceived a desire to hop the fence and visit the back forty, and we weren't alert enough one day last week. He got to three of them before we could stop him. One dead, one injured, one shaken up but okay. No, I'm not going to post a photo of the dead hen. She's buried in the island in the driveway next to another hen, with a Dusty Miller planted on the spot. The injured hen is still taking it easy, but she's eating and drinking on her own and even hopped out of the nesting box where she had been for three or four days. The one who got roughed up was back to normal within a day.

Loosing the occasional bird is part of raising hens, or any livestock, for that matter. Here's a shot of the "grave."

In biking news, the Saddlesore 1000 candidates have reduced their number by one. He had a chance to do a 750-mile day and decided that was enough. Their ringleader, Doug Bennett (hope I spelled your last name right), and I have had breakfast together several times at the 896 Diner, which we both like. The guys at work were impressed (or thought I was crazy (same thing)) that I rode the bike to work in the rain.

Mushrooms have been popping up all over. I really must get out into the woods to take a few pictures. Speaking of the woods, I gave a talk on invasive weeds to a NCCC crew last week. They're a bunch of kids who will spend the rest of the month in Iron Hill Park pulling and spraying Multiflora rose and poison ivy. They seem to be a good crew of hard-working young people.

I might have some other, exciting news in a week or so, but I'll try to post again before then.

motorcycle posts 5–7

First, a little interlude. Last Thursday I happened to ride to work behind a Can-Am. This motorcycle is a three-wheeler, the front is the two-wheel part. It's made in Canada. I chatted with the owner a bit, but didn't get a name or any info about the vehicle except that it's as stable as a car on corners, and it has a trunk on the front. That Can-Am leads me to the next "post."

I ran into another Can-Am on Sunday when I visited the Montgomeryville Cycle Center with some friends from the Mid-Atlantic Riding Society. I got to talk to that fellow at length, and sit on the thing. Nice digital and analog dashboard, his engine has the same displacement as my bike (about 1000cc's), and it's a V-2. He says he accidentally did a wheelie once starting out hard in first. But the reason I visited MCC was to participate in a Guiness record attempt. We needed 242 beemers in parade formation to beat the current (still unofficial, as ours will be for a while) record of 141 held by a group in Missouri or someplace down south. We got 246! That's a lot of BMW riders, who tend to prefer riding alone. MCC was a wonderful host, and we pretty well filled his large parking lot, and consumed a lot of cookies and hot dogs. We went on a nice ride through the PA countryside after the official 2 miles on a road the police were kind enough to close for our benefit. I ended up being the proofreader for my good friend Jack Riepe, the official counter. He slipped up several times, and if I hadn't caught his extra numbers, we would have had some tension undoing them to see if the total was still over the mark. So hey—proofreaders are important!

The weather held out, too. It had sprinkled before I left that morning, and rain was in the forecast for the afternoon, but we finished the ride without a drop, except of sweat. It got pretty warm. Speaking of weather,

About those three guys who wanted to ride a saddlesore 1000 a week or so ago. They're postponing the ride. Their weather expert said the forecast for that day was for rain all along their route, and they had other options, so they have rescheduled for the twenty-something of May.

I hope you get another post before then.

Been a while—I guess I can get away with 4 MC posts with no mushrooms

I commute to work every day on my faithful BMW, but that's not the big news. This Saturday morning, about 4 AM, I expect to sign off on three guys starting a saddlesore 1000. If it doesn't rain too much. Right now the forecast doesn't look good, but they have three weekends free enough for the ride, so I'm pretty sure it'll happen, even if not two days from now.

To complete a saddlesore 1000 you need to document that you rode 1000 miles or more in 24 hours or less. This documentation consists mainly of time-stamped gas station receipts, though technically, a time-stamped receipt from about any place will do as long as it reveals the location and time. You have to prove you were there, and show when. You also need a live person to sign that you left where and when you said you did, and ended the ride where and when you say you did. Doesn't have to be the same person at both ends, but in this case they plan to return to where they started, so I'll be doing both honors.

Good thing I live near a 24-hour restaurant.

I'll try to get some photos of the start and end of their ride.

Make that three

I received an honor tonight—someone asked me to certify their Saddlesore 1000 ride, scheduled for within the next month or two. A saddlesore 1000 is a motorcycle ride that lasts 1000 miles or more, and 24 hours or less. It's the qualifying ride to join the Iron Butt Association. I'm a member already, and I suppose it lends a bit of credibility to my signature on their documentation.

In other MC news, I spent nearly the whole day putting the fairing back on my bike. Late last fall I had a slow-speed accident in a parking lot, and it broke the fairing. A few months ago I had scraped enough together to buy some used fairing parts, a few weeks ago I got them "painted" with truck bed liner so they would all be the same color, and a few days ago I replaced the electrical part that had failed. It was time to attach the fairing.

BMW fairings are held onto the bike by six bolts through slots at the ends of some steel bars. As it happens, these bars, strong though they be, will bend in a collision, even a slow one. It took all day to bend them back, try on the fairing, remove the fairing, bend some more, etc. until everything was close enough to factory original to go back together. We'll see if it stays on when I take it for a spin. I'm not done yet, but I got the main piece on. The rest should be comparatively easy. Sorry, I didn't get a picture of the bike sans fairing, but here's a shot of the current state of affairs.

The white stuff in front is the tool table, covered against the evening dew; the club logo under the turn signal is from the M-Riders, the Mensa motorcycle club. My other club badges are on the damaged fairing parts; I'll have to get new ones. I'm not sure where to put them—the new surface is pebbly, not smooth. Like a truck bed liner.

Oh no! Two motorcycle-related posts in a row!

Yes, two. I'll have to get out into the woods and look for some mushrooms...

Saturday was the MMMM (March Motorcycle Maintenance Madness) event for a motorcycle club I'm in, The Mid Atlantic Riding Society, MARS, for short. A friend, who goes by his last name, Davis, hosted the event. Must have had two dozen bikes there, including both bikes from our household. The BMWMOA forum even posted about it, and it has a bunch of photos, so I won't burden this post with repeats. Heres the link to the BMWMOA forum item. It even has photos of my dear sweet wife and me, both looking all mechanical and competent, though she makes a better-looking mechanic.

Davis and I hauled Val's bike on a trailer a couple days ahead of time because it wouldn't run except to idle. I rode my slightly illegal bike to the event. No mirrors, because the fairing is off. The bike seems to have more pickup not carrying all that weight, but the steering is funny. So we replaced the plugs and re-cleaned the carb on Val's bike, and it runs. Not well, though. I ordered a few more carb parts; we'll see after I get them in. My bike got an oil change; didn't have time to put the fairing on after doing the carb. Well, I'll get to it. I'm waiting for a couple more parts.

That would mean another motorcycle post!