FOR SALE: front bags and racks

I don’t normally toss up items for sale here, but I have a few things I don’t use and would rather see them go to a good home.

Sadly, these can only ship within the US due to uncontrollable tariffs not of my making.

Prices include shipping in the US.

1. Karrimor handlebar bag. This is small and would be perfect for a very small bike, either on a rack or hanging from the handlebar if there’s room. NOS, probably from the 1970s. There’s a coroplast stiffener inside on the bottom that I added. $35.

2. Velo Orange Randonneur Front Rack, Cantilever. New with mounting hardware. Sells new for $95 at the V-O web site. I’ll let mine go for $60 including US shipping.

3. Zimbale front rack bag. VGUC. Originally green, dyed black to match a rear bag. Attaches easily to rack with Velcro straps on bottom. $35.

4. Front canti rack, no name. Powder coated alloy. Excellent used condition. $15.

Buy both the Zimbale bag and this front rack — they go together perfectly — for $45 shipped.

I can be reached at periwinklekog AT yahoo DOT com if you want to buy any of these items.

PayPal or US Money Order preferred.

Happy riding.

2025 Coffeeneuring Challenge: ready, set, sip!

The rules for the 2025 Coffeeneuring Challenge have been posted HERE.

I have checked with the admin, and explained to her that, as I don’t have a very portable photographic device — when my iPhone 6 bit it, I decided not to look for a replacement, and got a flip phone instead —  the only way I could document my rides visually was to offer a sketch, scan it on my computer and add it to my blogpost. Thankfully, Mary said that would be fine.

Because of family obligations that will keep me off the bike for the first full week, I’m taking the go-ahead to start my challenge a day early so I can use two days and have them count.

If you haven’t tried Coffeeneuring, it’s a lovely way to extend your bicycling farther into the fall, find more excuses to go riding with friends, and enjoy a warm beverage as the season turns cool and then cold.

The Challenge begins October 11 — October 10 if you really need the head-start — and runs through November 24. Happy riding!

(Photo: from a pre-Covid Coffeeneuring Challenge. I miss the Association for Caffeinated Wheelers.)

Handlebar bag upgrade, Part Two: Velo Orange and Ostrich

After looking at the instructions a few times, I decided on the most direct approach, and simply punched holes in the back so that the decaleur would sit fully engaged and on the rack. 

There’s still some wiggle, as I imagine there would be with only two points of contact — three after I add a toe strap through the slots in the leather patch on bottom. I suspect I’ll need to figure out a tighter attachment on bottom, though I don’t yet know what that will look like. 

I do know I like where the bag and decaleur are positioned now. Even with some wiggle, the bag is sitting as low as possible that bouncing out seems unlikely. Once I figure out a firmer attachment I think it will be exactly what I’d hoped for. Meanwhile, I think it will serve well enough for rides around town.

Feel free to offer suggestions.

Handlebar bag upgrade, Part One: Ostrich & Velo Orange

Wanting to make my Peugeot city bike a little more distinctive from the All Rounder, I decided to replace the short rack and front trunk bag with a larger handlebar bag, and a rack with integrated decaleur to support it. Doing so would increase the capacity a bit up front, and allow me to bring a little camp stove and tea kettle along on longer day rides, something I’m working my up to for next spring.

I found this Ostrich handlebar bag in a thrift store for a crazy bargain price (under $25). A previous owner had tried to dye the brown canvas black and got sloppy with the color, bleeding some onto the white trim. No matter. I brought it home, cleaned it up and applied some Nikwax spray-on proofing wax for canvas. It required some rubbing in and spreading around, and a few hours to dry in the sun. 

Next came replacing the cheap shorty rack I’d gotten for the trunk bag with a more robust, brand new Randonneur Front Rack with Integrated Decaleur from Velo Orange. This was definitely more of an investment, but the stainless steel should hold up for many years of Oregon rain. I also mounted a small knob to the left side of the rack that will hold a headlight, so I can aim the headlight a little lower. This one’s from Portland Design Works, but multiple companies offer these and you can find one at your local bike shop.

I started the process today. Ultimately, I’ll need to refer to the printed instructions from V-O to complete the installation, including punching a couple of holes in the handlebar bag to accommodate the decaleur crossbar. I’ll get to that after Shabbat.

The rack went on without too much trouble, and I was able to use a rubber spacer between the rack and the fender to add stability to both. Once I sort out the decaleur installation and fit I hope everything will work seamlessly. 

I’ll also have a shorty rack and trunk bag available for sale, cheap. US shipping only.

Stay tuned.

Rosh Hashanah ride report: This is the world.

I’ve led High Holy Days music as a cantorial soloist at five different synagogues, for most of the last 18 years. It’s rewarding work and I’ve loved doing it.

Long Covid has caused multiple side effects that I still live with today, including loss of vocal control and breath support. For that reason, I decided that I would take this year off from not just leading, but also from attending services. It would be too hard for me to sit in a pew and not lead, or even be able to sing. So I decided instead to plan a bike ride on Rosh Hashanah morning.

I set out to return to Skidmore Bluffs, then ran into the same challenge as last time when the network of neighborhood streets led me to the footpath crossing over the freeway again. I was tired and underslept, and decided instead to go downtown. I rode part of the way, then tossed my bike on MAX the rest of the way. In pre-Covid years, riding all the way into town would have been easy enough, and pleasant. Now, it’s a dicey proposition, both because of the changes in my health and because the number of homeless people camping out everywhere has spiked to epic numbers. I just didn’t feel like encountering blocked sidewalks and people openly consuming meth smoke from tin foil platforms. 

I rode the MAX to Portland State, grabbed a tofu bento at Rice Junkies and enjoyed it at one of the outdoor tables on the Urban Plaza. Rice Junkies has been there since I was a student in the late 90s, and I’ve continued to be a customer, sometimes going downtown for the sole purpose of eating lunch there. It’s good, hot and tasty, and very satisfying.

After lunch, I decided to head back to the east side. I hopped on MAX and rode it the Rose Quarter, then hopped off and rode slowly home through inner Northeast Portland. It was getting warmer now — the high would be over 80F — and I took my time. Along the way, I saw many more tents, tarps and blocked sidewalks filled with people who had nowhere else to go. Most were wearing filthy clothes. Many moved unsteadily as they walked, either because of drugs and alcohol, or fatigue, or both. Some talked to themselves, a couple of men yelled at no one in particular. Many simply lay on dirty blankets in or next to tents. Looking a block ahead, if I saw that the bike path or sidewalk would be difficult to thread my way through I’d turn and choose a quieter side street. It took me quite awhile to get home this way.

I won’t say much about the homelessness issues in Portland. Homelessness is everywhere, in every city across our country. Portland’s response has been to create more low-bar-entry overnight shelters, meaning that one does not need to be sober or clean to get a bed for the night. Because they’re overnight shelters, the folks who stay there have to leave very early in the morning, and have nowhere to go except outside all day long. I don’t personally see this as a solution, but a very poor band-aid that props up the ongoing crisis and offers little or no hope for a meaningful solution. It took decades to create this problem, and many bad decisions by state and federal elected officials that eased the flow of illicit drugs into our country, reduced or eliminated mental health and drug treatment options for those in need, and eliminated funding and access to low-become, subsidized housing. What we have now is a perfect storm that is too large for any one city or state to solve.

Making matters worse in Portland — and this is just my opinion — is the sheer amount of grift involved in maintaining a status quo approach to dealing with homelessness that all but ensures a continuous flow of money to NGOs that help a handful of people while everyone else is stuck outside. Their job is to look like they’re doing something, without actually doing very much, so they can stay in business and their executive directors draw healthy salaries for doing a little rather than a lot.

I know that sounds terribly cynical. But between that and Oregon’s stupid decision to decriminalize certain hard drugs, the homeless population here has grown quickly. People have literally moved to Portland because it’s easier to be homeless here. They’re camping along the Springwater Corridor and Marine Drive, leaving garbage and spent syringes in their wake and threatening cyclists and pedestrians who want to use the paths for the purpose they were originally designed. And they’re not leaving. The camps are swept every few weeks, and the homeless people simply reappear on the other side of the road or a couple of miles farther along the path, and the cycle begins again. It’s a never-ending game of Whack-A-Mole. Meanwhile, nothing is accomplished because those who benefit politically or financially from the status quo are guilt-tripping anyone with a roof over their head into keeping quiet.

So forgive me if I struggle with the way that rampant homelessness has taken over the city, and limited where I can feel safe enough to ride my bike. I refuse to feel guilty for having a roof over my head. I worked my ass off for years to acquire and keep it, and I'm not living high on the hog by any means. I understand that there are many broken people in our city, and in the world, who have fallen into the hole of drug addiction and untreated mental illness. And living at the level I live at, I can’t really do much to help solve their problems. I give what I can where I can, but it is literally a drop in the ocean. 

So in order to stay sane and functional on the face of my own diminishment, I ride my bike, I take walks, I nurture my relationships and rest when I need to. I’m sorry that there are fewer places in the city to ride without feeling nervous. But I’m tired, and I’m retired, and I would rather not feel nervous when I venture out. I ride where I can, and I’m learning how to live with all the changes around me. Some of them are unsolvable by me, and I don’t feel guilty about that. This is the world. This is life. I like to think that on any given day, most ordinary people are doing their best. Those who could do so much more with their greater means are too often not doing their best. This too, is the world, and has been since there have been haves and have-nots. 

When I got home, I’d ridden for well over three hours, and I was really tired. I was glad I’d ridden, and just as glad to be able to lie down for a nap. 

The year has turned from summer to fall, my soul has turned a little older, and I hope that this year I'll be a little more hopeful, more thoughtful and better able to navigate the gap between what I can’t and can do to make my corner of the world a little bit better than I found it.

(Illustration by Frank Patterson.)

Coffee Outside PDX and Coffeeneuring: they go together.

Yesterday, I enjoyed one of my longest rides this year, nearly 9 miles round trip, to meet up with folks at Skidmore Bluffs for Coffee Outside. It’s was a gorgeous morning, a little warm for this time of year but still very pleasant. Not having a smartphone or GPS, I simply printed out the section of the Portland Bicycle Map that included a few good choices for routes and clipped it to my handlebars.

The ride took me along quiet residential streets whose trees were beginning their turn from green to gold and orange, past old Craftsman-styled houses with inviting front porches and schools whose playgrounds were dotted with a few kids. A cat sunned itself in an east-facing window. Lycra-clad club riders raced past me, calling out a cheery “Good morning!” and waving, their skinny road tires humming along the asphalt.

I got a little turned around on my way to the Bluffs, and wound up going up and over the footpath that crosses above the freeway at Going Street. I surprised myself by climbing without shifting gears. My legs felt good, even if I was winded and slow.

I left my house around 8:30, thinking that I could easily arrive by a little after 9. But getting lost and doubling back a few blocks had me arriving closer to 9:45, where a dozen or more riders were already gathered under a large oak tree, sprawled on the grass and preparing coffee at an assortment of camp stoves. I set down my contribution of mini apple turnovers (a baker’s dozen for five bucks at Safeway!), inflated my little cushion and sat down in a circle of friends. We spent the next hour-plus chatting, catching up, drinking coffee and munching on a variety of pastries, donuts and fresh figs while the sun rose higher in the sky and warmed our backs. I have grown to really appreciate Coffee Outside for its conviviality and lack of expectations. People ride bikes, show up, brew and drink coffee and delight in each other’s company. When we’re done, we ride away lighter and more hopeful than before. 

As long as I can keep riding my bike, I’ll try to join up with this bunch of lovely folks.

The 15th edition of the Coffeeneuring Challenge begins October 11. Details will be forthcoming soon. But basically, you ride your bike twice each week to a different location — a coffee shop, a park, a trailside rest stop — and enjoy a warm beverage. Document your rides with write-ups and maybe a photo or two, and if you complete the minimum of seven or eight rides within the several weeks of the Challenge, you can send away for an official patch. Or you can just enjoy the bragging rights. It’s a nice way to extend your riding season, especially if you live in a colder climate and you’re coming up against the rain or snow of late fall/early winter. If you want to participate, save the link above and check back regularly. Rules will be posted there soon.

The summer weather is taking a little longer to leave this year, with high still near 80F some days. But the lows are creeping down into the mid 50s at night, which is a relief. I hope to be able to keep riding when the weather finally turns colder and wetter, at least a little each week.

Autumn begins today. The Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah begins tomorrow evening. And we turn and keep turning with the world. Happy turning, and happy riding.

(Photo: Skidmore Bluffs. Unknown)

Kids who want to break things and hurt people

Unless you've ever raced bicycles, you have no idea just how hard these athletes work to compete in the Grand Tours, the biggest multi-day races of the year. Though the stars are well-paid, most professional bicycle racers don't earn anywhere near the same multi-millions that football and baseball players earn. They do it because they love bicycle racing, and because going fast is a form of athletic self-expression.

The final stage of the final Grand Tour of the 2025 racing season was ended early by organizers out of safety concerns. The stage was ended early, the riders and staffs hustled back to their hotels and the podium ceremony canceled.

You want to *peacefully* protest, fine. Stand off to the side, wave your flags and banners, and shout slogans. No one is arguing against that.

Running onto the course, causing racers to crash and throwing metal barricades at people is NOT peaceful protest.

It's the crap behavior of kids who want to deliberately break things and hurt people.

https://apnews.com/article/spanish-vuelta-vingegaard-protests-b783b471e18104a820dc61d1c3af7526

 

 

Coffee. Outside. Sublime.

Since coming out from the Long Covid tunnel, it has taken me awhile to resume bicycle riding as a regular part of my life. I still need to shorten my longest rides by tossing my bike on public transit, but I can ride now. After two years when I could ride barely or not at all, each day in the saddle has become a tremendous gift. I no longer take any of my bike rides for granted.

Yesterday, I rode much of the way to Sewellcrest Park for Coffee Outside. The summer is slowly and gently shifting into fall; trees are turning from green to gold and a little bit of orange, and the first leaves are crunching softly under my tires. I took a slightly more circuitous route to my destination, which took me past Lone Fir Cemetery, one of the oldest cemeteries in Portland. I dismounted and slowly walked my bike along the fence line, looking at the grave stones of people who’d been born in the mid to late nineteenth century and had died sometime in the early to mid twentieth. I noted a couple of grave stones marking lives about the same span as mine. In a time of far more limited health care, living into one’s sixties was considered no small feat. 

(Photo from Lone Fir Cemetery web site.)

The early morning quiet was punctuated by the occasional warning of a crow or squirrel, and made the place seem lovely and almost inviting. I made a note to myself to return to Lone Fir again when I had more time to lock up my bike and walk the grounds.

I recognized the park as one where I’d led a Slug Velo ride years before; we’d finished up with a picnic lunch beneath the shade of a large, leafy oak next to the school that shares the park’s name. In the farthest corner, past the pickleball courts and the playground, was a single short picnic table with a few bikes parked nearby. Folks were already firing up tiny camp stoves and hand-grinding beans for the freshest possible cup of brew. (I’d tried making coffee outside at home a few times, decided that hand grinding beans was a bit hard on my arthritic hands, and since then I’d made my coffee at home and brought it in a thermos.)

This was a well-attended gathering, with dozens of bikes and riders showing up to meet, sip and hang out. I enjoyed conversations with regulars and some newer folks as well, including a guy who works at Simworks and appreciated the older retrofitted bikes some of us had ridden. The more I heard about the current state of the bicycle industry, the happier I was to have left when I did. In 2011, I was already arguing with dealer reps about the decreasing sustainability resulting from thinner chains, cogs and chainrings found in 10- and 11- speed drivetrains; I learned that a thirteen-speed cogset was imminent, and I nearly groaned at the news. I looked over at my Peugeot with its cup-and-cone bottom bracket, schrader-valved tires and five-speed freewheel, and smiled. (I have a small box of overhauled freewheels and NOS 6-speed chains at home that should see me out. I freely admit to being a retro-grouch now, and wear it as a badge of honor. I will probably grumble about the unsustainability of the 21st century bicycle industry until I die.)

Coffee Outside has become a favorite bike-oriented activity of mine, and I hope to keep at it for a good long while.

If your city doesn’t yet have a Coffee Outside group, consider creating one. All you need is a park picnic table, some bicycles and coffee, and friends with whom to enjoy convivial conversation.

Happy riding.

The Never-Ending, Slow-Motion Train Wreck of history

This time when protestors showed up to a discussion about local transportation and infrastructure and tried to turn it into something else entirely. And when that didn’t work, they shouted down the host and the Mayor of Portland and the whole thing turned into a slow train wreck.

It has been not quite a week since this happened.
I was still recovering from surgery, and while I was glad to feel well enough to ride again I knew I wasn't up for prolonged discussion. So I went hoping to listen and learn a lot.

The lead-up to the open mic session was pleasant enough. I enjoyed short conversations with several other Bike Happy Hour regulars and admired both the size of the crowd (well over 200 people, big for this weekly gathering) and the beautiful bikes parked all around.

But before the open mic had even begun, a group of people showed up with large Palestinian flags, signboards and a table, and began setting them up next to the area where the interview with the Mayor would take place.

I had a quiet, but instinctual, reaction.

I suddenly felt a little nervous. I looked around to see how I might leave with my bicycle, and by what route, should things get out of hand. I had an internal conversation: Don't be ridiculous. No one is going to get stupid and violent here. You're totally fine.

And yet, I still looked down at my chest to see if my Star of David necklace was positioned inside or outside my shirt.

I had that reaction because I have yet to hear *anyone* working from the pro-Palestinan perspective openly and clearly disavow what Hamas did on October 7.
I had that reaction because too many Palestinian supporters are so intent on expanding the blame from “Zionists” to “Jews” so quickly, with almost no room for complexity or meaningful discourse; and that’s a much easier and faster leap to make in 2025.
I had that reaction because I have experienced direct antisemitism multiple times since childhood, including eviction, job loss and physical harm.

I hate that this has become my new default now, but this is the world in 2025, I’m a sixty-something retiree, and I don’t live in a city with a large, dense Jewish population.
And when the Mayor was late in arriving, and nearly every open mic speaker was talking about genocide and looking for people to blame, I decided it was time for me to leave.
The video that aired later confirmed that I’d made the right choice.

And I don’t know when I’ll be back.

I feel as though my age is showing, but that's okay. It just feels like there are so many more younger people who just want to break things. I remember a time when I felt that way myself, but I was twenty at the time. I grew out of that in less than a decade, because I had to. I had to grow up and get on with my life. All that black-and-white thinking and the anger that accompanied it wasn't doing me any favors. So over time, I learned to accept more of the world's imperfection and embrace smaller moments of good in each day. That helped to temper my thinking.

So did getting older, and the humility that comes with the aging process.

The sad thing is that we are now SO divided over everything that I am having a hard time knowing how to proceed in so many aspects of my life.
I don't want to stay home. I want to go out and be with people. But I am no longer interested in opening myself up to the potential for harm and pain that's connected with all this polarization. I'm not as young or robust as I used to be.

It's why I've been nervous about reaching out for volunteer opportunities. Every time I turn around, yet another progressive Portlander has come out saying that there isn't really much difference between Zionists and Jews, and that Israel really just needs to end. Do I really want to put myself out there and face that?

Not especially.

I'm tired, for so many physical and emotional reasons. I want to live a reasonably good life and I'd rather not do it as a virtual hermit. But I've been through too much in the last five years to deliberately put myself through a wringer again. I know at some point, something will have to give. I'm just not sure when or how.

I'm going for a bike ride. 

Surgery. OW. Life goes on. gratitude.

Several weeks ago, I was seen at the ENT clinic to discuss the dystonia that developed after having Long Covid. This is a real condition where singers have difficulty finding and holding pitch, sustaining long tones with good breath support, and keeping their voice clear. Basically, the connection between the brain, the breath and the vocal folds has been disturbed and must be retrained. A LOT of singers who developed Long Covid have had this issue and most are working with voice specialists in physical therapy to resolve the problem.

While they scoped my throat (sent a tiny camera into my throat through one of my nostrils, an uncomfortable experience), I mentioned that a cold sore on the side of my tongue had developed back in February, but it had never healed and it was painful. As a precaution, they number my tongue and took a tiny biopsy. Results came back the next day and showed "pre-cancerous cell changes." Not cancer, but a dysplasia, and cause for concern. So, while I have to wait until November to see a physical therapist for my voice, they scheduled removal of the dysplasia pretty much asap.

The surgery was last Monday, a day after I'd been to the MADE Show. Recovery has been rough. I spent the first three days basically in bed and in pain, unable to eat anything other than a little yogurt on my right side and lots of cold water. I was able to add iced coffee soon after, and slowly added in lukewarm oatmeal, ice cream or sorbet and cottage cheese.

I didn't eat a whole lot, to be honest, because it just hurt too much and I had no appetite. As a result, I've lost almost ten pounds. (Not a bad thing, because I could stand to lose it.)

Each day after the first day home, I've taken photos of the wound, which was held together by dissolving stitches. The stitches loosened up over time and the wound opened up again, but I was told that this is no cause for alarm. Over time -- it could take weeks or even a couple of months --  the stitches will dissolve and be absorbed into my body. The doctor and his staff have been extremely helpful and kind during my recovery and I'm grateful.

Today was the first day that I didn't wake up and feel my mouth screaming. So that's meaningful progress. But the first week was rough.
I may ride my bike over to Bike Happy Hour tonight. I won't be able to enjoy the communal fries, but maybe I can get some fruit juice and call it good. If I can go, it will feel good to ride my bike again. The host is interviewing Mayor Wilson about transportation infrastructure so I'd like to hear what he has to say.