Categories: all aviation Building a Biplane bicycle gadgets misc motorcycle theater
I just checked the odometer on my bicycle's computer: 601 miles. Plus about 20 before I got it installed, but who's counting? Me.
I bought this bike on the 16th of September, 2006, which is close enough to 6 months ago that I'll just call it that. In 6 months, I've ridden about 600 miles. That's not bad!
Particularly considering that my other bike, which I bought in January, 1999, has 900-some miles on its odometer. If I keep going at this rate, I'll have surpassed that number before June. It's impressive to think that by my own leg-power alone, I've traversed those miles. On top of that, there's a lot of up-and-down that's not accounted for in a simple monodimensional number like miles on an odometer.
This realization came about when I was filling out the calendar for Adobe's commuter bonus program for February. If you bike more than 50% of the time you come into work, they give you a little token, a gift certificate to REI or a local bike store. But in order to qualify, you have to fill out this form, including writing on every day that you took non-motorized transportation to get to work. As I was filling out the form, I realized that I commuted to work without a motor on 18 of the 20 working days in February. Wow!
When I started out, I was kind of aiming for bicycling to work 3 out of 5 days in a week. That wasn't much trouble, and after a while I stopped thinking about it. Then, a few weeks ago, I realized that it'd been several weeks since I'd fired up either the motorcycle or the sidecar rig. That was when it first dawned on me: I've been bicycling a lot.
I'm pretty happy about that. It's nice to know that it can be done. I'm no longer thinking, "I'll need a motor for that," and have started thinking, "I'd rather be on a bicycle for that."
Next up: let's see if Norco will honor their theoretical lifetime warranty on the old bike, and give me a new frame. I brought in the old one a couple weeks ago, so here's hoping!
Posted at 23:00 permanent link category: /bicycle
Yep, I've actually started moving.
After a surprising amount of calling around and gathering pricing and availability, I decided on a storage space 50 blocks north of me, on Aurora. Storage is damned expensive, at least in Seattle. Even so, I got what appears to be a reasonable deal, and I'm at least moderately confident my meager possessions will stay where they're put.
I loaded up the minivan (busted head gasket and all -- at least it still runs) tonight: two sets of herculean-strength shelves, and 8 boxes of books which are destined for Deep Storage. Kristin and I drove up the ever-sign-encrusted Aurora Avenue, and turned into the deserted loading bay of the storage place.
I got out, and typed in my fabulously long (8 digits!) gate access code. A moment passed, and the gate started grinding up. Success! I spied three cargo carts hidden behind a locked door, and confidently keyed in my code again. Failure! The "Call Manager" light blinked silently at me, the door remaining resolutely locked. I tried again; maybe I'd mis-keyed. Again, the red light winked at me, refusing to let me in on its secret. I jabbed the unlabeled button in the center of the little console. Nothing happened. I tried my code again. Again the imperious little light. Again with the button-jab. Still nothing. Apparently when they say "On-site managers" they're actually kidding.
Remembering the Chinese definition of madness ("He who repeats the same actions expecting a different result is mad"), I moved on. Maybe the elevator would reveal a hidden treasure-trove of sturdy carts. Up to floor 4, where my unit is located. Nope, no carts there. Down to floor 1, below where we'd started. Ah-hah! Two carts, lurking nonchalantly outside the elevator door. I snagged one, and dragged it back into the elevator. Back up to floor 2, where the van waited.
Cart successfully in hand, we loaded up the boxes of books, and trundled the gravid cart out to my space. Out with the lock, and up with the door. Behold! There is a small table-tent paper-thing. "Just like a hotel," remarked Kristin. The table-tent assured me that some lackey had swept the floor and greased the door, but had neglected to check that the light bulb was functional. Slackers! Fortunately, the light was working, so they were spared my considerable wrath.
We loaded the boxes into the space, where they looked small and huddled. I went back down and retrieved the disturbingly dense (but oh so strong) shelf units. These are sold at Costco for $50 each, and claim that each shelf can hold 1500 lbs (which is to say, two portly motorcycles, or 1/2 of the average family sedan). Each shelf. Not each unit, each shelf. That's a pretty sturdy device. I'm unlikely to be testing those claims. But I know where I can keep my valuable lead ingots!
I briefly considered trying to actually construct one of the shelving units, but was overcome by hunger and Kristin's sad look as she pondered waiting around uselessly while I swore and made clanking noises at her. We adjourned to the van, locking the unassembled shelf things and the forlorn books in their corrugated steel cage.
So it's official. At a rate of $180 (plus tax, of course) per month, I have a new home-away-from-home for all my weird stuff. Better get cracking; there's nothing like spending money to get me in gear.
Posted at 22:35 permanent link category: /misc
Categories: all aviation Building a Biplane bicycle gadgets misc motorcycle theater