Descending on A Bacchetta CA3

• Descending on a Bacchetta CA3 
• Five Minutes of Cycling Heaven while on the return leg of THIS

Beat Him Over the Head with a Bicycle Inner Tube

So, it was about five years ago.  A bright Sunday morning.  Riding my Bacchetta Ti Aero recumbent bike.  It was the last hill after eighteen miles of climbing.  A long 6% grade of twisty two lane mountain road (the White Spars in Prescott National Forest, Arizona).  

Well, it was slow.  But I was well to the side of the road so that motorized vehicles had the whole lane to themselves.  

Along comes one of those gigantic pick up trucks.  It was huge. Massive tires. And it was loud. And it was shiny black, spotless. Completely empty with the exception of two guys in the front, the passenger side window down with a man's arm resting on the window frame.

As the pick up approaches me the driver downshifts.  A suffocating cloud of black diesel smoke comes out the tail pipe.  He leans on the horn and veers to his right, coming within inches of me.  I could hear both guys laughing while the passenger flips me the bird and yells "Get off the road, faggot." 

My reaction was instant.  Didn't give it a nanosecond of thought.  I flip BOTH of them the bird, too.  And yell, "Go **** yourself!!!" and keep pedaling.  

And then it happened.  

The entire back end of the truck flashes RED.  It comes to a sudden stop.  Like a giant wall of TRUCK dead in the middle of the road.  

I stop, too.  Thinking, "Oh ****!  They're coming after me."  And then bright white backup lights flash and the truck starts to rapidly reverse towards me.  

Me, I'm flummoxed.  Worried.  Chastising myself for `taking the bait' and reacting.  "How do I defend myself?"  

Under the frame I had a long black tool bag containing two little plastic tire levers, a few CO2 cartridges, a few inner tubes and patches. And, of course, several sheets of toilet paper.  In case I got a flat tire...or something more serious.

So, while the truck is backing up I nervously reach under my bike for the tool bag, unzip it and what? pull out an inner tube or something?!!!  Threaten them with toilet paper?!!!

And then the monster pickup truck comes to a sudden stop, about 10 yards ahead of me.  It sits there for about 20 lonnng seconds.  I can see the two guys looking back at me, talking to each other.  

The backup lights go out.  No brake lights either.  The pickup truck literally burns rubber accelerating up the hill.  It looked like they were escaping.

First, I'm relieved. Then, I'm wondering.  What the hell just happened?  They could have yelled, threatened, thrown water and trash at me.  Even beaten me up.  But, No.  Nothing.  In fact, it looked like they were frightened and sped off.  

----

A few years go by.  

And then, cycling up that same hill, I see an old small pickup truck on the side of the road with an older fellow sitting next to it in a lawn and garden chair.  On the ground in front of him was a cardboard box on which he wrote, in big black letters, GUNS.  He waves at me.  I wave at him. Yeah. He was selling rifles and handguns from his pickup truck on the side of the road.  LOTS of them  In broad daylight.  All day long.

I thought, Well, this wouldn't happen back home in Chicago.  I'm in `Arizona.'  

----

So, it took a few years to pass.  And I was still wondering how I escaped being pummeled by two faux macho guys in a giant tank-like pickup truck. 

It dawns on me.  

When they saw me reaching into a long black bag under the frame of my bike ... they figured I was `reaching into a holster for my gun.'  

Reaching for my gun!  

Me!

On my bicycle.

And they feared a gunfight.  

Like I was gonna shoot them.  

----

Arizona.  

Selling guns out of a pickup truck.  

On the side of the road.  

In a lawn and garden chair.

Arizona.  

Natchez Trace 180

Last week I entered an event called the Natchez Trace 444. From Nashville Tennessee to Natchez Mississippi on a national park called the `Natchez Trace.' The Natchez Trace is one long two lane road with no stop signs, no stop lights, no commercial enterprises and no commercial traffic. In most respects the road quality was excellent. There were a few sections that were `lumpy' but didn't have potholes. Some bridge sections had rough separators that caused me some worry about a pinch flat. 

The weather for this event was unusual. A cold snap resulted in temps in the mid-60's (F) during the day and all the way down to 39F at night. When descending at 25-35 mph into an ambient temp of 39F the wind chill is makes it feel like 25F on `dry' skin. With sweat it felt like it was in the teens. 

I had hopes for completing the event in under 35 hours; but my realistic expectation was that I'd not complete the entire 444 miles. As it turned out I completed 180 miles and 7,000 feet of climbing in 14 hours of cycling.  After 12 hours of cycling it was 1:00 AM and extremely cold.  I took a 2.5 hour break in the crew vehicle.  Back on the road at 3:30 AM I rode another 2 hours (25 miles) before I called it.  At that point I was exhausted.  Of course, there were more miles `in the tank' but it would simply have been pointless to risk physical destruction to add another 25 or 50 miles.  

A few candidates to explain the lack of stamina.  First my age: 74.  Another the weather: it was so cold that I wore five pair of socks, four leg coverings, five jerseys and jackets and three head coverings and thick, insulated lobster gloves.   Finally, insufficient training for such an endurance event.  

Of these `candidates' I'm least inclined to accept age as a major limiting factor.  But I will be putting this to a test in mid-November.  I plan to do a solo 24 hour on the World Time Trial Championship course in Borrego Springs, CA.  The temperature there should be far less cold at night.  The climbing (feet per mile) will be half of that on the 180 miles of the Natchez Trace (19 ft per mile v. 39 ft per mile).

It was worth it.  So many cycling events have been canceled this season due to the Covid-19 pandemic.  

My crew was exceptional.  Attentive, extremely capable and very supportive.  The bike was mostly flawless.  At one point a link on the chain `hooked' on something metallic and didn't allow me to pedal.  I stopped, reversed the rotation and that issue was resolved, allowing me to continue on.  Clothing for the cold was as good as it could be.  Layered with a final jacket of rainproof / windproof material.  

Not much more to say about this event.  I've heard that several other cyclists didn't finish due to the extreme cold.  At the third time station (1:00 AM) I noted that the van of likely the strongest rider was parked and remained there even after I rested and resumed the event at 3:30 AM.  Wise.