Months ago I said that our neighborhood is great for cycling: grid pattern streets and very flat. It IS great for cycling, but I haven't done much because my bike has been plagued with tire troubles from day one here. I can't seem to go more than a few blocks before my rear wheel rips the valve stem off the innertube. Months ago our first LA bike ride went like this: We got all geared up/pumped up/prepped up (at least a half-hour of work) , set off into the west, got maybe four blocks, my rear valve stem popped off, tire immediately went flat in a rush of escaping air, we walked our bikes home (me carrying the rear of my bike so as not to damage the deflated tire) , I replaced the tube, we set out again, got about 6 blocks, rear stem broke off again, "pop-whooooosh," I sat on the curb cursing while Lorie rode home and returned with the car, and we gave up trying to ride that day.
After going through about 5 more tubes over the next couple of weeks, getting more and more discouraged, it was obvious that the rear tire was slipping around the rim, pulling the tube around with it, eventually separating tube from stem. "Pop-whoooosh!" I could see what was happening, but I couldn't stop it. In all my years of cycling, I never had this problem. It was VERY discouraging and inexplicable. I tried several remedies, but finally gave up and took the rear wheel to a bike shop. They cleaned up the rim and the tire, replaced the tube yet again, pumped it up to rock hard max pressure, and I haven't had a problem with the rear wheel since! However, I've been so discouraged that I haven't really ridden anywhere since then. It's no fun getting 10 miles from home, blowing out your primary tube and then on the way back blowing out your spare with 5 miles still to go.
Which brings me to today's cycling adventure. It's been months since I rode my bike, but today while Lorie was out working on her TV sit-com pilot project, I suddenly decided to ride to the top of Runyon Canyon Park. You may recall we hiked up there a while back. We haven't returned since.
My destination as seen from our 'hood:
So, I got all geared up and pumped up and prepped up (took at least a half hour) and headed west on Clinton a few blocks, then turned north on Martel crossing Melrose, Santa Monica, and Sunset. It was, of course, a beautiful day in sunny California made even more beautiful thanks to the gusty winds we've had the past few days which have blown all our filth into the next county to the east! Every couple of blocks I stopped to make sure my rear stem was not deviating from its normal position. Looking good. After I crossed Hollywood Blvd the street started to get "San Francisco steep" so I shifted into granny gear and inched my way up N. Fuller Ave. towards the park entrance. After only two blocks of climbing I had to pause to catch my breath, and began to seriously doubt if I was going to reach the top of Runyon Canyon. I wasn't even in the park yet! Oh, how I missed those fit Austin days back in 2001 when I could pedal non-stop for an hour during my morning and evening commutes. Now I always carry a spare tire and can't get enough air.
Another half-block of climbing and I was at the gate. Here I found a "groovy dude" sitting on a blanket on the sidewalk next to his weathered red car. The stereo was playing some very freaky psychedelic electric guitar manglings and the "groovy dude" was attempting to mangle along on an acoustic guitar. Scattered on the blanket next to him and all over his car were the wares he was peddling to park-goers. I wondered how long it had taken him to get that primo parking space on this popular street as I maneuvered around him and through the pedestrian gate into the park.
Head down, huffing and puffing, I concentrated on maintaining my balance at this slow speed, and tried not to think about all that steepness in front of me, glancing up occassionally to avoid other pedestrians. I passed several descending hikers and their dogs on their way out of the park. This is a very popular park for dog owners.
One lone descending hiker caught my eye, because from a distance the color of her shirt made it look like she was topless. What do I know, maybe that's normal in this kooky town!? No, just a tight flesh-colored shirt, but she was walking very deliberately, holding something with both hands at chest level, and as we got closer I could hear her chanting softly. Just as I passed this presumed reverent Buddhist lost in meditation, she blurted out, "Wow, I like your mirror! That's cool," referring to the little round rear-view mirror attached to my helmet like so many other little round mirrors attached to so many other cycling helmets on this planet. The gears on my bike turned almost as slowly as the gears in my head as I tried to make sense of the last 15 seconds. A topless chanting blurting Buddhist thinks my common helmet mirror is cool? Automatically I glanced over my left shoulder in her general direction, smiled and chuckled pleasantly which probably came across as a sneer and more huffing and puffing from the flabby man straining up this little hill. Proving once again, the window for meaningful cyclist/pedestrian communication is very small.
So, did I make it to the top of Runyon Canyon? Did my rear wheel withstand the strain? Did I encounter any more strange and magical creatures?
Stay tuned.
(to be continued)
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