Return to Errandoneeing

After a few years laying off this one, I've decided to return to participate in the Errandonee again. I need  a little kick in the pants to get back on my bike and pedal out the cobwebs of SAD, winter and depression.  So thanks to Mary Gersemelina, I'm hopping back on the Errandonee train.

The rules for this are pretty mellow. Nine different occasions for bicycling errands (social, work, whatever); you can double up on a few of them; and you can choose any stretch of twelve days in a row to ride a minimum total of 30 miles overall.

With my eye surgery coming up in late March and some gigs between here and there, I think I can do this twelve days in a row and get it done.
And because my eye surgery will prevent me from participating in a sizeable chunk of #thirtydaysofbiking in April, this will be a way to get back on the bike and build some momentum before then.

I'll post my errands here, probably trying to do two a day here and there and doing one a day the rest of the time (so I can deal with the potential need for Shabbat rest and not stress).
The fun starts February 1 and runs through March 31. I'll pick a 12-day stretch somewhere in there and get back to you.

Back to the bike: multi-tools

Thanks to those of you who responded to my posts about depression, auto-immunity,  Medicaid and life in Trump's America. I appreciate your concern, understanding, and your expressed desire to see this blog continue.

I assure you I am not thinking of ending it all, honest. I just live with a challenging body and there are times when it's more challenging than others.
After an incredibly difficult week of mental and physical health stuff,  I am still a little wiped out and quite fatigued today; but the lemmings in my head have calmed down and I can step back and refocus on things I love. Like bicycles.

So let's refocus.

Today's topic: Multi-tools.

I like multi-tools and carry one on my bike all the time. (In fact, I try to make sure there's a complete tool-wrap on each of my two bicycles, so I don't have to think about swapping back and forth.) mtulti-tools come in literally all shapes and sizes and with a crazy variety of tools included. I'm going to examine a few different models and explore the pros and cons of each, and share with you my favorite, "go-to" multi-tool for arrying in a daily bike commuter toolkit.

1. Size matters.
Too long or fat a handle and it won't fit easily in a compact bag or pocket on your bike.
Too short a handle and you simply won't have enough leverage for the tool to be of real-life practical use. Here's an example of each.

a. Too long or fat --

The old Cool Tool, which for its time was a great tool in its day but heavy and a little unwieldy.
For some reason, there are friends of mine who still love this tool. You can still sometimes find these but they're priced like "collectibles" rather than practical tools.




Lezyne multi-tool with five zillion functions. Lezyne make very sleek, stylish tools that sometimes fall short in the practicality department. This tool combines a fat handle with very short allen key "arms," making for a klunky, uncomfortable feel in the hand and not enough leverage to loosen stubborn nuts and bolts out on the road.


Knog multi-tool -- I got one of these ages ago in a box of parts for trade, and decided it was better as a novelty in my tool collection than as a truly useful multi-tool. It's just, well, ridiculous. There's another version that comes with a chain-breaker, in a thicker square casement.



b. Too short:

Serfas 12-function. Seriously, this combines a too-short/fat handle with too-short allens.
There's just no reason for a tool this short and fat and silly. If you need your multi-tool to be this small all around, you aren't planning to ever need it. Then why carry it at all?

Park Tool super-mini AWS-13. This, ladies and gentlemen, is basically a nifty keychain fob.





c. Special category: fancy multi-tools.
Usually these multi-tools are designed to lure the buyer as a kind of eye-candy, something really pretty and fancy and distinct enough to make you really want to put one in your bag. Some of these fancier units are quite functional and work perfectly fine. Others are simply an excuse to take them out and show them off to your bike buddies. I'll throw a few up here and let you decide which is which.
On eBay right now, with an opening bid of $40 (used)


Available at Home Depot. Yes, really.


Look: titanium!




d. Perfectly good and truly useful multi-tools.

These are the sort of multi-tools most often found in bike repair kits, because they're simple, just large enough to provide some leverage and affordable. Here are a few of my favorites, any of which I'd be happy to include in my on-bike tool kit.

Park AWS-9. (A newer version, the 9.2, includes a Torx key.)
Park Tool MT-1. This is actually not a bad little tool for what it is. It's very compact, but with enough length to provide leverage and therefore it's really useful. Especially good for those who like to travel really light.


Rock Brothers -- a mega-multi-tool that I include here because it's still reasonably-sized to fit well in the hand, providing enough leverage to get the job done. It also comes with a rarely-found 15mm wrench, perfect for bolt-on wheels. This is made in China and sold under a dozen different brand names. It's really cheap on eBay, which allows me to buy multiples for inclusion with my refugee bikes. I also carry one on my BStone city bike. For what it is, it's not bad at all, and better than a lot of fancier, similarly-intended tools.


Pedro's multi-tool -- just the basics, in an attractive package with a handle that I find quite comfortable. I keep one of these in my toolkit on my All-Rounder, an older model with a yellow handle in the same shape.


You'll notice than on all of the tools I like, there is no chain breaker or tire lever. That's because I prefer to use these tools independently, and unattached to anything else, for the greater leverage that provides. Plastic tire levers can be plenty strong as well as light; and the Park portable chain tool is so good I use it in my home workshop.

The multi-tool, patch kit, tire levers and chain breaker all fit nicely rolled up in a small canvas tool roll or a Rivendell Burrito Wrap, which in turn fits easily in a pocket of my saddlebag. A dpare tube fits in the other pocket and I'm good to go.

Happy riding.

It's like this. I am poor. And it IS all about money.

OMG.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have made an astounding discovery.

Guess what?

It IS all about money.

Here's my evidence so far:

-- NPR presents an article on how difficult it is to summon the courage to pick up the phone to make an appointment for mental health counseling. They list a host of reasons that include fear, shame and lack of time, and fail to mention that an overwhelming majority of Americans cannot afford it. Or counselors won't take Medicaid because getting reimbursed from the government is a bitch. Or there are no therapists in their area taking any new patient. Or they simply can't afford it. Oops.

-- My Jewish professional colleagues are urging everyone to vote in the World Zionist Elections, which is some thing about how progressive organizations get to spend their resources bringing about progressing change in Israel, a place Jews are supposed to visit but which many can't ever afford to get to. And on top of that, while ANYONE can vote in this thing, it seems, there is a surcharge. You have to PAY to cast a vote. It's not a lot of money, but it's the principle of the thing. Paying to vote. Think about it. Oops.

-- Legal experts tell us it is actually possible for some folks to file bankruptcy against their outstanding student loan debt; but that to do it you have to (a) find a lawyer willing to take on the tons of extra work required to do that, and (b) it costs a lot more billable hours for you to get a lawyer to do that. So yeah, maybe your students loans can be reduced or forgiven, but it will cost you -- right -- more money, which you already don't have because otherwise why are you thinking about filing bankruptcy? Oops.

-- Back to the Jewish world -- yeah, I know, I'm biting a lot of hands here but honestly I can't take the hypocrisy anymore -- Lots of cool learning and certification opportunities abound that would open up lots of new horizons for people who are otherwise on the margins of Jewish communal life. But guess what? They cost a crap metric ton of money, and if you want to inquire about scholarships you have to cut through generations of communal shaming about how asking for help is a shanda, a scandal; and then they tell you, well, no there's not really much scholarship money and we save it for folks under 25 beacause they really need it (and, by implication, someone over fifty shouldn't need it at all because why haven't you made a rip-roaring "success" of your life by now, for heaven's sake? Come ON, get with the program here.)

Oh, right. Sorry, wrong number, I won't trouble you again. Oops.

-- My parents kept telling me I could do anything and be anything I really wanted if I just worked hard enough. And if I had been straight and femme and pretty and rich, perhaps that might have been true. But I'm none of those things, and "anything" simply hasn't worked out for me.
I mean, I have done a lot of things I love and care about, but they don't get respect in the world of Middle Class People With Money And Security, so none of them have paid especially well. Or even enough to really live on. I don't regret my choices. I have been true to my Self, and my skills and talents in the world, and my passions. But I've done these things in a world where they are not really respected, where I am not really respected. And so I've done them knowing full well that I would not be secure, or healthy or comfortable. That is the world we live in, where some kinds of people will always be valued more than other kinds. My parents really wanted me to believe their myth, because I think they really wanted to believe it for themselves. Mom and Dad, I'm really sorry that the myth wasn't true. Not for me so much as for you, for your hearts, and for whatever dreams you had for us. And I'm glad you're not here to see how bad it's become today for me and so many other people.

Here's the thing, and it's high time I was honest about it, even if it crashes and burns my little bitty career to the ground.

I am tired.

I am poor.

I have to stay this poor in order to qualify for any sort of government assistance, for stupid-expensive drugs (currently $20,000 per dose) that keep me alive, for the food I eat and for subsidies on some of my utility bills. I have to dumpster-dive and dig through Free boxes for clothing; and take two-hour naps in the middle of the day and use the restroom ten to twenty times a day because my body can't work a 9-to-5 anymore; and I have to sometimes just sit in my bedroom and curl up under a blanket because the depression kicks in and I just cannot get out of bed right now but get back to me later, okay? -- but I'm not close enough to death to qualify for disability.
So I, and tens of thousands just like me, hover on the edges, gamely straddling cracks we don't want to fall through and disappear between.
I work on bikes for people even poorer than me because frankly it's a way to stay a little less crazy and to keep at least some of my dignity -- and when I get too fatigued (which is like every couple of hours) I can sit down and rest without some boss lurking over me wondering why I'm slacking.
I weigh 180 pounds now, because my food stamps go a lot farther when I spend it on processed foods my Crohns'y body can digest, and because I don't have the mental or physical energy to ride ten miles at a go like I used to, because my body has conspired against me to rob me even of the enthusiasm for riding a bicycle that I used to know. Now if I take a walk outside it's something. I am NOT doing my part to keep us housed and fed, except by being close enough to the ground to qualify for the paltry help that passes for concern from our government, which actually does not give a shit if I live or die.

We have a little house. (Once upon a time when we were both younger and I was stronger and we could work a lot more, we qualified to buy a house; that seems like forever ago now.) It's not much and it needs work and we struggle every month just to make the mortgage. But now that we are more than halfway through paying the mortgage, if we have to sell before we're foreclosed on, we might walk away with enough money to find an apartment somewhere while we sort out what comes next. THAT is the state of the working class in this country. We are one check away from disaster, one bike crash away from homelessness, one angry depressive episode away from being cast out of synagogue communities or stores or community fairs that don't know what to with anyone who isn't comfortably liberal and middle class and therefore finds it easier to hold their shit together.

I can't afford to be liberal. I no longer respect the banks and bankers who colluded to make it impossible for me to go to college without taking exorbitantly-priced student loans.
I have no respect for a government that forces me to live on so little in order to qualify for basic health care. I HAVE NO RESPECT for Jewish organizations that want me to show up and make my music and make everyone happy while wearing my ill-fitting, worn-out Middle Class Costume, and then telling me they can't ask me back because they can't afford to pay me anything.
Yeah.
Whatever.
What-the-fuck-EVER.

I am poor.
I am exhausted.
And I am tired of the charade.
So excuse me while I go and write some songs about burning it all down.
And while I don't plan to post a link to this anywhere, I expect a few people will read it and be horrified at my lack of gratitude, my inability to sustain my personal thankfulness practice for One More Day, always one more day.
I am not sorry.
Today is the culmination of a bunch of really hard, sad, depressed, angray days and I honestly no longer care about much of anything right now.
Perhaps after a nap I'll feel better, but I bet not. When I wake up the world will still be what it is and I will still be who I am.

This is my blog, and perhaps my next post will be lighter and fluffier. Hang in there in case it is, or stop reading and unfollow me. It's all cool. You do you and I'll do me. Now with more honesty than ever before. I may lose every potential gig I've lined up but DAMN it feels good to be able to tell the truth.

when vintage isn't valuable: choosing refugee bikes

So a couple months ago I was given this bike by friends on the west side of town. It had sat in their carport for something like decades, a purchase for a son who grew too fast to ride it very much. It was loaned for several years to the son's friend, who rode it daily for several years until he went away to college.

The bike looked like this, and initially I was excited. It was an early Specialized Rockhopper from the mid-1980s, and it had some nice parts on it.

Upon closer inspection, I noted that there was quite a lot of rust on most of the components, and especially the handlebars. One of the shifters was missing and the other was broken. The grips were trashed. The cables were dark brown with rust all the way through. And the hubs were crunchy, with old, dried grease inside that would have to be removed, the races and bearings cleaned and repacked with fresh grease. In short, what had once been a cool bike had been "rode hard and put away wet," as they say.

It was beyond collectibility, and needed a LOT of work.

That was when I knew I'd just fix it up and make it safely rideable for the Refugee Resettlement Program at Catholic Charities.

I did pull the cranks and sell them, to make some money which I could spend on replacement bits and a decent lock. Everything else had to be repaired or replaced. And I took my magic rust eraser (from Kool-Stop, no longer made and yes, I bought two so I could put one back) to the handlebars and made them look okay. I slapped on another set of cranks, replaced both derailleurs and put some new tubes and better used tires on it.

In the end, this is a bike that would not have been cost-effective for a shop to take on; but for this home mechanic with a small pile of used parts, it was perfectly fine to refurbish and make safe and fun to ride. As with all my Refugee bikes, I added a rack, a small seat bag, a lock and a patch kit, and lights. And to reduce theftability, I covered all the logos with permanent stickers. Obviously, an educated bike thief would know what to look for, but the big bike theft rings are mostly looking for far more modern bikes with disc brakes and very light frames, neither of which a bike of this would offer.

So now, it's ready for someone to ride.
And I'm moving on to the next bike in line.

Your donations of bikes, accessories and parts all help make this possible. Thank you!

Riding in the sunshine, profitable non-profits, and a Refugee Bike UPDATE

It was nice again today, sunny, though a bit colder than yesterday. So I mdea a point of riding the BStone up to the CCC for Salvage Sunday, after which I'd grab some groceries and ride home.

On the way to the CCC, I turned my rear thumb shifter and felt it give way. The metal clamp of my 35-year-old thumbshifter had cracked, and only the tension of the screw was holding the shifter to the handle bar. I was going to have to buy a replacement at the CCC.

When I arrived, the back pad was empty. Carl, the longest-serving employee (he came on board four or five years after I left), told me that management had decided that Salvage Sunday wasn't profitable enough so they were cutting it back and raising the cost of salvaged bits (from $0.50 to $1.00 a pound). Bike frames were now $10 each and wheels were generally being held back unless they were totally trashed.

They began this month holding Salvage Sunday only once a month, and anything they didn't deem salvageable by the regulars would be locked up and sold to scrappers for the metal.
Carl told me they initially wanted to get ride of Salvage Sundays altogether -- "it costs $10,000 a year to hold them," he explained -- and the whole shop is continually streamlining their model to make more money to support the programs they want to keep going.

The CAC (Create-A-Commuter) Program had been shelved several years ago, citing rising costs and shrinking availability of decent older mountain bikes as more used bikes stayed longer with their owners, or were sold on the internet. If someone who was home;ess needed a bike, they could work in the shop for a few hours to earn one; but those cases were screened and kept to limited numbers, based on the decreasing number of bikes available to give away.

Nearly everything at the CCC now is poured into youth programs in the schools, Bike Camp in the summer (and that's not a free camp, it costs a fair amount of money to send your kid there for a week) and Spanish-language programs based in subsidized Latino community centers. As a result of that growth, and also because of rising wages and inflation in general, the bikes for sale at the CCC are now comparable with refurbished used bikes sold almost anywhere else in town. New bikes also grace the CCC's showroom floor now, another attempt to make up for the shortage of quality used bikes which simply aren't being donated in great numbers anymore.

In short, the CCC isn't anywhere close to resembling the scrappy non-profit that Brian Lacy and Ira Grishaver were running on a shoestring when I started volunteering there in the early 1990s. And while I understand the growth is the rule of the day in capitalism, even for non-profits, the fact is that non-profits have to be run like for-profit businesses in order to survive in the long run.

I found a right-handed thumb shifter that I thought I could make work for now; and sat in the late afternoon sunshine swapping shifters on my bike. Then I rode gingerly to the grocery store, got my stuff, and rode gingerly home, being careful not to shift much. I suspect that if I pull the thumb shifter from the old pod and swap it onto the new pod and clamp it should work just fine. I'll try that tomorrow.

************
It's also time for me to renew my request for help with my Refugee Bike Project. I am entering my fifth year on this humble little project, and while the number of new arrivals via Catholic Charities has fallen, there are still people coming to Portland from all over the world -- largely from Middle Eastern and African countries where poverty and war have forced them out. After months or years ;angushing in refugee camps, a trickle of people are allowed to come to the United States on asylum, and they have to begin again.

Having a bicycle makes it a lot easier to get around in Portland. Combined with a bus pass, it's remarkably easy -- and far cheaper than owning and maintaining a car. So I collect adult-sized bicycles, fix them up, replace whatever needs replacing, and send them to Catholic Charities, who distributes them to the newest Portlanders.

I need more bikes.
I also really, really need more U-locks with keys (combination locks are far easier to break and they wear out much faster, so I can't really use them.), headlights, rear racks and small bags (to hold locks and patch kits).
If you live in Portland and want to help, please reply here at this blog post and we'll make arrangements. Thanks so much, and happy riding!

goodbye rivelo

Today, the cool little shop known as Rivelo closed its doors for good.

Rivelo, a Portland franchise selling Rivendell bicycles and accessories, Bob Dylan records (yes, really) and a few other neat things, opened five years ago at the entrance to the Springwater Corridor bike path.

It has been a lovely place not only to shop, but to hang out with fellow bicycle-lovers and the people who love them, enjoying conversations about everything from vintage mid-[20th]century electronics to politics to Fassbinder films. And of course, bicycles. Under the gentle and often wry hand of John Bennett (who would tell you that he was under the gentle but firm guidance of his wife Darby), the shop was a welcome haven for those of us who were burned out on the bike industry's emphasis on carbon fiber, lycra and disc brakes and just wanted a place to hang out and look at bikey things made from earth-sourced materials (like steel, wool and beeswax).

Rivelo ceased regular operations just after Christmas, but promised to be open on successive weekends through mid-January. I visited on what was Rivelo's last day open, bringing a little Shlivowitz (kosher plum brandy) to share; others had brought whisky and vegan cookies. But John was quick to say this was not a party. So the Un-party proceeded, with all of us Un-racers talking and schmoozing until 4 o'clock, when John and Darby waved us all goodbye and locked the door.

It was bittersweet, of course; but when he made the announcement last month, John explained that the economy wasn't forcing the closure as much as time was. He's 64 and ready to retire to a life of low-impact leisure. Thankfully, he and Darby and staying in PDX for the foreseeable future so we can grab coffee now and then.

I wish John and Darby all the best going forward.

Here are some photos from the Un-party.

Joyful Riders PDX coffee meetup Sat, 1-18-2020 at Pioneer Square

Tomorrow's high in Portland will be 50F. My knees will be able to handle the cold and damp at that temperature.
Planning on a mellow ride into town and a stop at Starbucks Pioneer Square around noon. After that, I'll meander back over to the east side before heading home.

Who's in?
Just show up. See you there.

If Rivelo is still open this weekend I might swing by there afterwards. Could be the last time to do that before John and Darby toss it in for good.

Happy riding!
#alwaysbecoffeeneuring
#rideyourbike
#rideawake

back in the saddle again: more from the brain trust

It has been a tough, tough winter at Rancho Beth. Between wrestling with depression and the recent death of my father-in-love, I've had a hard time getting into much of anything these days.
Yesterday, I finally made myself go into the shed, turn on the little space heater and get to work.

In the stand: A 1986 Specialized RockHopper that was given to me by a friend who's retiring and downsizing. It had been his in college and he hadn't ridden in many years.

It cae to be missing some parts -- cranks, pedals, shifters, rear derailleur -- and so I spent some time yesterday replacing all of that with whatever I had on hand. I'll need to do some fine-tuning, like turning the bottom bracket spindle around to adjust the chain line between the cranks and the rear cogs; but otherwie it should be a fine commuter bike for someone.

The choice: Do I sticker it up and send it off to Catholic Charities for their Refugee Resettlement program? Or do I try to raise funds for more U-locks -- ALWAYS locks! I never have enough -- by selling it?

Suggestions welcome.