Category: The Bike Madame

Camping trailers enchanted me as a child. On my family’s annual tent-camping trip to Lake Ontario in central New York, I rode around the campground on my ten-speed and stopped to visit with elders in the electric-hookup area. Their life of year-round travel in their cleverly designed miniature houses (bus-sized RVs had not been invented) enthralled me with the promise of carefree adventure.

Now RVs the size of Imperial Star Destroyers whiz past me on the road. Their presence prompts me to wonder if a pedal-powered alternative exists: a pull-behind sleeping place. A visit to the Internet revealed a variety of designs to make travel more comfortable for people for whom packing a tent isn’t an option. Most were individual creations on the part of handy individuals rather than the work of commercial producers.

Tina Gallagher’s Yahoo! Voices article “Bicycle Travel Trailers Are Becoming Reality” provides links to You Tube videos where inventors show their designs in action. A video called “A biketrailer” shows an elderly gentleman pulling a tube-shaped trailer behind his recumbent bike that’s just large enough to sleep inside. He has equipped it with two support stands and can close its mailbox-like door from inside or out. Artist Kevin Cyr, a jaunty older fellow, has designed a pull-behind trailer that looks more like a miniature fifth wheel than a launch tube for a spaceship. His video presents the trailer in several settings; it’s evident from the riding scene, though, that the additional space comes at the cost of a heavier load. (The looks on the faces of cyclists he passes on the road are priceless.) Ms. Gallagher offers her own design ideas at the end of the article.

Alternatively, one may be able to adapt a commercially available small pull-behind model to cycle towing. A website dedicated to pint-sized travel trailers (Teardrops and Tiny Travel Trailers or www.tnttt.com) has entries depicting the trailers’ owners hauling them by bike or trike.

British cyclists can purchase the QTVan, specially made to be towed by cyclists or motorized scooter users. This compact craft fits a bed, cooking kettle and drinks area, wall-mounted flat-screen TV, and a radio. Manufactured by the Environmental Transport Association, this nifty device is not currently being marketed in the U.S. You can see it at the company’s website,www.eta.co.uk (accompanied by a young fellow lounging under a quilt with an eye-searing pattern). It was marketed to elders wanting to secure an overnight spot for viewing the royal wedding procession without sleeping on concrete.

Hauling such a massive load requires specialized, durable connectors (imagine one of these things tipping over in traffic) and a custom gearing system. While all of the riders appeared comfortable pulling their trailers, none of the films I saw showed them going up or down a hill. If you want to try cycle-caravanning, make sure you practice in a safe place (like a parking lot early in the morning) to learn your new tolerances for braking and steering. I’ve hauled as much as 100 pounds with a bike trailer specially made for such loads, and I discovered the hard way just how much clearance you need to stop safely—and how easily you can tip over on turning.

Carbon-neutral trailers would be great projects for handy people…or a scout troop. (However, trying to fit the whole troop inside will require changes in the laws of physics that would challenge Star Trek’s Scotty.) For the less mechanically inclined, we can hope the QTVan soon crosses the water (on its own pontoons).

Lest the subtitle “internal passengers” conjure up visions of beneficial intestinal bacteria pushing microscopic pedals with their cilia, let me clarify: I mean human offspring who have not yet emerged from the cushy safety of the womb. For the past four and a half months, I have experienced the ups and downs of cycling for two and am ready to share my wisdom-in-progress with anybody considering a partnership of bike and baby-to-come.

Please do not take my ideas for medical advice. The decision whether to continue cycling while pregnant is a joint one between you and your health-care provider. If you’re uncomfortable, fatigued, or otherwise feel worse from riding, don’t force yourself even if your provider has given you the green light. The third trimester is particularly concerning, as your front-heaviness can unbalance you and the baby’s less protected in case of a fall. That’s why some providers suggest you stop riding as you approach your due date.

Fatigue is a common concern, particularly the in first trimester. If you’re a competitive cyclist or just like to challenge your physiological limits, you’ll have some adjusting to do. You want to find a level of intensity where you can hold a conversation with a fellow rider and don’t get out of breath. This may feel like a casual weekend amble, but burning calories isn’t in your best interests or the baby’s. Take your time with hill-climbing. Does your steed have a good “granny gear”? This is a good time to swap the fixie—temporarily—for a multi-gear ride.

As you get heavier in front, you may develop discomfort in the abdominal muscles (which are stretching to accommodate your girth), and pedaling can aggravate this. Now in the second trimester, I find my recumbent bike more comfortable than my upright bike, as I’m in a relaxed position with my back supported and I don’t have to hike my legs so high. You may have to adjust your seat and headset to find a comfortable position. If you’re finding it difficult to stay balanced, consider an adult tricycle. Recumbent tricycles look cool and don’t shout “old lady.”

While fatigue, increased bulkiness, and difficulty balancing are common concerns, miscellaneous peculiar symptoms may also provide you with unexpected hurdles. Most expectant mothers develop a keen sense of smell early in the pregnancy (this might even be your “giveaway” of your condition prior to the missed period). This transforms the flatulence of smelly trucks from an annoyance to a struggle against revisiting the contents of one’s stomach, and I won’t even mention other stinky objects one encounters on the road. Temperature-regulation weirdness can cause you to swim in sweat one moment and freeze the next, so bring layers. Some of us experience a decline in visual acuity. If you’ve noticed a change in your vision, get an eye exam and possibly new glasses or contacts. It’s even more essential now to glimpse upcoming road hazards and avoid falls and collisions.

For as long as you’re comfortable and you and your offspring are safe doing it, cycling is a superb way to retain the stamina, strength, and flexibility you’ll need for giving birth. Just don’t start riding while pregnant if you haven’t hopped on a bike since you were twelve. Wait until after your little passenger is out in the world before you try riding off that post-pregnancy paunch—when your health-care provider (and your own comfort) gives you the “okay.”

There comes a time in spring when dazzling dry days lure unsuspecting cyclists into ditching the rain gear. Inevitably you get a mile down the road and that innocuous puffy cloud has developed a menacing gray underbelly. A patch of blue sky remains enticingly ahead of you while the cloud bestows its blessings. That’s when you regret your impulse to forego clammy rain pants in favor of what are now waterlogged jeans.

Our coastal weather is rapidly changeable; what starts out as a clear day may transform to a full-blown storm by afternoon. The sight of Tillamook Head collecting clouds, which I glimpse from my office window, warns me to suit up for sideways rain.

As the weather warms, rain gear can become intolerably warm and you end up getting wet from inside the clothing rather than from nature’s gifts on the outside. This mini greenhouse effect can convince you to leave the waterproof stuff behind. I’d advise you to carry rain gear in your basket or bag just so you can slip it on in case the sky opens and sends you for an unexpected swim.

Water-resistant garments each fall somewhere along an imperviousness-breathability scale: maximally breathable garments are the least protective against the R Word and the most armorlike garments can become your own personal sauna. I like testing water-resistant gear on a warm but damp day, when I’m most likely to perspire beneath them and I’m not going to get critically chilly if they’re more breathable than warm. Features like pit zips (zippers that go from the chest to the forearm on jackets, allowing for ventilation in a spot that’s hard for water to reach) can assist you in striking the balance between waterproof and breathable.

Some vapor barriers require periodic re-application. Observe whether water beads on the surface and rolls off or gets absorbed into the garment (that’s time to use a spray-on or wash-in product to restore the vapor barrier). Others are part of the material and wear out over time. Some garments have taped seams. The tape wears out after a while and needs to be replaced. If you see it fraying and separating from the material, then your seams could experience a hull breach from rain, if not Romulans.

Well-made rain gear can be expensive, but I wouldn’t skimp by purchasing those heavy rubber pants or a jacket that’s basically a glorified garbage bag with holes for your head and arms. Cheap rain gear is less durable, its waterproofing degrades quickly or is insufficient, and it’s rarely breathable, leaving you just as damp as you’d be if you didn’t have any weather protection at all. You also have to hear it flap as you ride along.

Besides the obligatory jacket and rain pants, you can also accessorize with booties that zip over your shoes, gloves, and helmet liners. I haven’t yet mustered the courage to spend $50 on those rain booties, but a daily dose of foot-prunes is getting old.

The ultimate in rain protection comes with full fairings: a custom process where the bike is enclosed all around, like a small pedal-powered car. You’ll see this most often in specialized races of human-powered vehicles. It’s out of my price range, but sometimes I dream of stepping, dry and crisp, out of my bike/space capsule, wowing all those poor dripping folks who share the river-like road with me.

WHEN I was a teenager, I rolled my eyes at my elders’ paeans to the well-mannered youths of yesteryear, who never draped toilet paper in trees or used their underarms to produce bathroom noises. Now that I can legitimately begin a sentence with “Young people today…”, I still roll my eyes when I hear us ill-mannered children of the ‘70s described as paragons of etiquette. However, I have grown to appreciate good manners, especially on the road.

One night, after accidentally consuming caffeinated black tea instead of my usual herbal tea, and under the influence of a glitter ball and a bad SF novel, I discovered I’d summoned the spirit of Guillaume, Le Chevalier de Tour Landry. The medieval French knight wrote an etiquette book for his daughters, so I took advantage of his spectral presence in front of my cat-hair-covered papasan chair to ask him to share his advice on cycling etiquette. After I showed him what a bicycle was, he rose to the challenge. After that, he rose into the ether, never to be seen again, except in a mysterious pattern of tea leaves at the bottom of my ill-fated cup.

For your pleasure and edification, I have translated his remarks from medieval French.

“How wondrous are the ways of Fortune! Verily, I was tilting my lance at a target when I was unhorsed and struck my head—I had recklessly doffed my helm, which one should not do—and now I am transported in a vision to the future, where people travel about on metal-framed wheeled monstrosities! Yet even as the ways of the future are passing strange and wondrous, still we remain human and the duties of courteous life are incumbent upon us.

“In my rightful time and place, carts, horses, and pedestrians often collideth upon the roads because we travel in whichever direction we so desire. To stayeth safe upon the roads, prithee travel in the same direction as the horseless carriages do go and followeth diligently the same regulations, such as coming to a halt when the magic red light doth manifest. This renders your movements predictable to pedestrians and those who pilot the horseless carriages. It may seemeth expedient to weave between parked carriages, the syde-walk, and the road, but beware lest the 18-wheeled conveyance shalt flatten you.

“While we speaketh of that, many a high-spirited rider leapeth the curb and zippeth along the syde-walk where pedestrians do take refuge from the slings and arrows of the street. Rememberest that thou hast a vehicle and belongeth in the street. If you needs must go upon the syde-walk, I pray, dismount from your metal horse and walketh it beside the foot traffic. The exception is young children, who wobbleth too much to travel safely in the lane.

“When encountering others upon the road, whether afoot, in a carriage, or on cycles, it is well to alert them to thy presence with a bell and with devices that revealeth you to the eye, such as yonder magical lamps and bright, reflective clothing. You do not wish to surprise others.

“Betimes you come upon another cyclist who rideth slower than you do. Pray alert the other to your presence in a genteel manner and passeth safely upon the left. Some goeth around in a startling, loud manner or ridest amongst pedestrians to get around the leisurely obstacle.”

My knightly visitor then started to discourse upon the uncouthness of wearing skin-tight Lycra garments, so I was compelled to bring our interview to a close.

When I was a teenager, I rolled my eyes at my elders’ paeans to the well-mannered youths of yesteryear, who never draped toilet paper in trees or used their underarms to produce bathroom noises. Now that I can legitimately begin a sentence with “Young people today…”, I still roll my eyes when I hear us ill-mannered children of the ‘70s described as paragons of etiquette. However, I have grown to appreciate good manners, especially on the road.

One night, after accidentally consuming caffeinated black tea instead of my usual herbal tea, and under the influence of a glitter ball and a bad SF novel, I discovered I’d summoned the spirit of Guillaume, Le Chevalier de Tour Landry. The medieval French knight wrote an etiquette book for his daughters, so I took advantage of his spectral presence in front of my cat-hair-covered papasan chair to ask him to share his advice on cycling etiquette. After I showed him what a bicycle was, he rose to the challenge. After that, he rose into the ether, never to be seen again, except in a mysterious pattern of tea leaves at the bottom of my ill-fated cup.

For your pleasure and edification, I have translated his remarks from medieval French.

“How wondrous are the ways of Fortune! Verily, I was tilting my lance at a target when I was unhorsed and struck my head—I had recklessly doffed my helm, which one should not do—and now I am transported in a vision to the future, where people travel about on metal-framed wheeled monstrosities! Yet even as the ways of the future are passing strange and wondrous, still we remain human and the duties of courteous life are incumbent upon us.

“In my rightful time and place, carts, horses, and pedestrians often collideth upon the roads because we travel in whichever direction we so desire. To stayeth safe upon the roads, prithee travel in the same direction as the horseless carriages do go and followeth diligently the same regulations, such as coming to a halt when the magic red light doth manifest. This renders your movements predictable to pedestrians and those who pilot the horseless carriages. It may seemeth expedient to weave between parked carriages, the syde-walk, and the road, but beware lest the 18-wheeled conveyance shalt flatten you.

“While we speaketh of that, many a high-spirited rider leapeth the curb and zippeth along the syde-walk where pedestrians do take refuge from the slings and arrows of the street. Rememberest that thou hast a vehicle and belongeth in the street. If you needs must go upon the syde-walk, I pray, dismount from your metal horse and walketh it beside the foot traffic. The exception is young children, who wobbleth too much to travel safely in the lane.

“When encountering others upon the road, whether afoot, in a carriage, or on cycles, it is well to alert them to thy presence with a bell and with devices that revealeth you to the eye, such as yonder magical lamps and bright, reflective clothing. You do not wish to surprise others.

“Betimes you come upon another cyclist who rideth slower than you do. Pray alert the other to your presence in a genteel manner and passeth safely upon the left. Some goeth around in a startling, loud manner or ridest amongst pedestrians to get around the leisurely obstacle.”

My knightly visitor then started to discourse upon the uncouthness of wearing skin-tight Lycra garments, so I was compelled to bring our interview to a close.

THE FUZZY brown object on the porch of the yellow house may look innocuous, like a bath mat or a discarded wig, but as I approach, it comes alive! The hairy monster barrels across the yard and onto Route 26 after me, barking and growling as he skitters at top speed for an out-of-shape canine. No amount of shouting “Go home!”, “Bad dog!”, or “Hey, fuzz-brain, I’m not a deer!” deters the mop-like menace.

As a rural cyclist, I’ve had my share of being chased by dogs, but this guy is the most persistent pursuer I’ve ever experienced. Cyclists are attractive to dogs because they’re just fast enough to trigger their chase instinct, not too slow for a challenge and not too fast (which is why cars at highway speeds elicit a response of “Why bother? Let me just bask on the porch.”) All of my other canine pursuers turn back upon hearing a human voice emerging from atop that tasty-looking metal deer with wheels, ashamed to be caught menacing a potential dispenser of food and petting. This scruffy adversary, however, is going to require more extreme measures. Here are some I’m considering.

One of my friends advised me to carry dog biscuits and toss them at the offender. Dogs think with their stomachs, so the enticing combination of food and something else to retrieve might keep the marauder at bay long enough for me to make my escape. There are several drawbacks, though: dispensing treats could reinforce the misbehavior (as Fido’s getting rewarded for trying to run you down), dog biscuits aren’t free, and it’s difficult to throw something while riding a bike (especially if you’re me).

Another friend of a more dour turn of mind (and Puritan heritage) suggested aversion rather than reward: a squirt gun. As soon as the enemy gets within range, I’d deploy the old water Uzi and give him a good high-pressure soaking. There are also holes to be poked in this method. Once again, it’s difficult to aim a water gun while riding (especially if it’s the “machine gun” type that requires two hands—and a delicate water pistol won’t pack the wallop necessary to discourage the dog), and this guy puts up with rain and hail to come after me, so I doubt it will dissuade him.

A host of others recommended communicating with the dog’s guardian. This ended up happening one morning when the dog started his usual Big Game Bike Hunt and I heard someone calling him. I stopped (whereupon he got hold of my trouser leg and worried it; so much for assuming he was just playing) and saw a lady in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers holding another yipping, squirming bundle raring to get at me. I explained that her cute little pal has been chasing me daily. I don’t know how much she heard, as the offender was barking the whole time, once he’d decided not to rip up my pants or my leg. My words probably ended up sounding like “Your bark bark chasing bark bark day bark bark bark.” I could write a letter and stick it on her door…if the dog permits me to get that close to his domain.

If I had an inventive bent, I’d design a special ray gun that gave the dog an instant embarrassing haircut, at the same time removing the characteristic wet-hair-and-dead-frog odor dogs are so proud of. Until then, I can only resort to a journalist’s favorite weapon: embarrassment in print. (Alas, Fido has other uses for newspapers.)

Standing out may not be everyone’s favorite thing, but it’s essential when you’re a cyclist on roads designed for and occupied by larger, higher-speed vehicles. This truth finds its most tragic illustration in cycle-auto accidents where a motorist protests, “But I didn’t see the bicycle!” Being pilloried by second-grade classmates for wearing that beer-can-and-crochet vest sure wasn’t fun, but you want to shine forth on the road. Even if you don’t ride a double-height mutant bike, you need to be brightly lit and sonically equipped.

Bike lights come in two basic types: the ones that enable others to see you and the ones that allow you to see the road under the cover of darkness. If you ride on well-lit streets, you need only the first kind. If you ride on rural roads with minimal illumination, you need both. I ride with a 250 lumen front light (about as bright as a headlight), which reveals gravel and grit ahead as if it were daylight.

By law, cyclists riding at night need a white front light and a red rear light, both of which can be seen from at least 500 feet away. I prefer multiple rear lights, each with its own position (near your seat, on your rear rack, etc.) and flashing pattern. Check your batteries before hopping on; lights can fade out mid-ride and you won’t realize you’ve suddenly become the Invisible Cyclist. Some lights fasten to your axles so they flash every time the wheels turn (no batteries required), but they can get loose and rattle around, making you sound like an oncoming train (tighten before leaving your station). Be sure your lights aren’t blocked by bags on racks and other obstacles.

Bright, reflective clothing is crucial for rain, fog, and darkness. Water-resistant clothing designed for bicycling usually has reflective components in the right spots, but consider whether items like a backpack will cover them. (Recumbent riders, be aware that these items are designed for upright bikes; your seat may hide the reflective tape on the back of a jacket.) Clever accessories such as reflective or battery-powered flashing ankle bracelets keep baggy pants at bay and get you noticed.

Auditory recognition aids are most helpful for alerting pedestrians and other cyclists to your presence. Although I still ring my bike bell at unaware motorists emerging from parking lots, the combination of road noise, being enclosed, and the radio can conspire to mute that tinny sound. Some cyclists resort to loud horns, with the ultimate in sonic blasts being an air horn-like device fueled by a bike pump. (It might end up startling you more than the motorist, though.) Elders are more accustomed to bike bells than someone shouting “Oh your left!” However, some have high-frequency hearing loss, hence the attractiveness of a bell with a deeper tone. I’ve heard everything from cowbells to retro “oogah” horns. The one thing you don’t want is to rely on your squeaky chain or other untended components to notify others of your imminent arrival.

Being seen and heard extends beyond the road itself. Whenever community meetings touch upon road design and maintenance, a cycling contingent needs to make its presence felt to ensure that new or expanded transportation corridors take the non-motorized population into account. I’ve found community planners to be open to pedestrian and cycling concerns, and a positive attitude and focus on safety can win over avowed non-cyclists. That SUV-driving politician might even dust off the 1960s clunker and roll up behind you…with a flashlight and a doorbell tied onto the handlebars.

Every few years, Seth and I visit his family in beautiful Boulder, Colorado. Boulder has a well-designed system of cycling lanes and trails, including the fantastic Boulder Creek Path, a scenic pedestrian/cycle path that connects riders and strollers to different parts of the city with minimal contact with motorized traffic. Since Boulder receives sun much of the year, a sizable outdoors-loving population (including students at a big Colorado University campus) keeps the city cycle-friendly. The roads leading from town to the mountains also make for enjoyable recreational rides.

Much as all of these inviting features cause these cycle commuters to get excited about our periodic visits to the Rockies, one factor always gives us pause: the altitude. It’s a challenge, to say the least, to make the transition from our coastal home, rich in sea-level (and sea-smelling) oxygen, to the rarefied heights of the mountain West. Should you be considering a similar adventure, I would like to share my alpine riding wisdom with you. Please note, however, that the following suggestions are general in nature and are not medical advice. For recommendations suited to your individual health history, please speak with your health care provider.

Soon after you hop off the train, plane, or bus and start breathing that bracing mountain air, you’ll notice how thin it is. Adjust your plans accordingly, giving yourself time to acclimatize. On your first day at a higher elevation, go at a leisurely pace and set the distance bar low. You’ll notice that hills that seem mere hiccups of the landscape at home become epic Everest-like ascents, so instead of chastising yourself for being out of shape or anxiously checking for flat tires, be aware of this physiological response and treat yourself kindly. This is all the more important if you have a load to carry, when you’re going to be working harder anyway.

Your body compensates for the decreased oxygen by cranking up red blood cell production in the bone marrow and releasing more of these oxygen-carrying cells into the bloodstream to deliver their load to hard-working muscles and other tissues. Remember to drink lots of water (don’t wait until you’re thirsty—you’re already starting to get dehydrated then), as you need to increase your fluid volume to transport all these new blood cells around. An electrolyte replacement beverage can be handy in these often hot, arid places. Hematopoiesis (the process of making red blood cells) also demands protein, so carry along some nuts, seeds, salmon jerky, or other favorite protein-rich foods.

Acute mountain sickness is a common response to altitude changes. The symptoms, which tend to occur within ten hours of getting high…up, include headaches, nausea, lightheadedness or dizziness, thirst, and sore muscles. If you can, sleep at a lower altitude than you ascend to during the day. All of these signs indicate that your body is adjusting to the new environment, and they should resolve within a day or two. Rarer but more serious altitude-related illnesses include high-altitude pulmonary edema (AMS symptoms plus shortness of breath, cough, chest pain, and muscle pain and weakness) and high-altitude cerebral edema (AMS symptoms plus a more severe headache, loss of coordination, and changes in consciousness—either loss of consciousness or delirium). These two illnesses are life-threatening and require immediate medical treatment.

Now that you’re well hydrated, tossing back those almonds, and not scolding yourself for a pokey pace, you’re ready to enjoy your ride into the sky. Just be careful: singing lyrics from “The Sound of Music” as you ride may be illegal in some areas.

HELLO, I’M COLUMELLA, a workhorse commuting bicycle who contends stoically with the worst wind, rain, hail, junk in the road, and ugly pavement the North Coast can throw at me. When my rider told me we were going on a weekend trip to Vancouver Island, British Columbia, I spun at the opportunity! Vacation riding required some adaptations from a workaholic like me, though, so I had to prepare both mentally and physically.

First there was the weight issue. I’m a chunky folding cycle who’s used to carrying my rider and her lunch, work clothes, and water. This trip was the first time I wore panniers, which caused me to gain a few pounds and wrought havoc with my balance. That’s why you and your rider should practice with a load (whether it’s in panniers, a trailer, a big backpack, or some combination of these) before starting on your trip. Not only will this help you both to adapt to a different balance point, but you can also adjust the panniers, rack, and other things in case your rider gets whacked in the leg while pedaling or your fenders rub against your tires. If you have a two-sided packing system such as panniers, be sure your rider puts items of roughly equal weight on each side so you don’t list to port or starboard and send the rider overboard.

Cruising under a load also alters your braking and hill-riding experiences. Because you’re now Atlas shouldering the weight of the world, your rider will need more time to stop (and with the extra bulginess, it’s also easier for him or her to fall over if you come to a quick halt). You’ll also speed down hills and need to use lower gears to crawl uphill. A long trip with lots of ups and downs ideally calls for a cycle suited to such terrain. Luckily, none of the hills we traversed were especially steep, for I don’t come equipped with many gears.

Once I got used to the idea of recreation, I enjoyed my vacation. Vancouver Island is beautiful, and the city of Victoria is bicycle heaven: you can ride in the street and motorists don’t crowd you, and the dedicated walking-riding Galloping Goose Trail provides a nice connecting route throughout the city and its environs. I got to cruise past magnificent scenery on highways where cycles are permitted on the wide shoulders, and signs aimed at us direct us on and off the highway and onto local bikeways. I had one phobic moment crossing a metal bridge, but a sign reassured me and my rider of our right to stay in the center lane and not get passed by motor vehicles. Amazingly, we never collected the honks, rude gestures, and yelling we’ve gotten all too familiar with on our daily rounds while sharing the road with other vehicles.

The ferry from Port Angeles, Washington to Vancouver Island was also cycle-friendly. After twiddling my chain on a customs line, I was rewarded with a front-row seat from a bike rack on the bow of the ferry to smell the salt air (extra lube helped my sensitive components to avoid the bike equivalent of a sunburn), watch a humpback whale spout, spy-hop, and dive, bask in the admiration of other passengers who’d never seen folding bikes, and flirt with a sleek touring bike who shared the rack with me.

Next year, I hope to take a longer jaunt. Until then, I’ll roll alongside the RVs and log trucks while dreaming of new pavement beneath my wheels.