This isn’t Stipps Hill Road, but it’s not far off. We ride Vanetta Hollow and Sanes Creek, tracing a familiar route having hills that test our legs and our will. Along the way we pass roads with names made familiar during our years of covering Fayette and Franklin counties. There’s Elm Tree, Quarry, and Johnson [...]
Posts Tagged ‘bike’
Murder on a nearby road
Posted in road bike, tagged bicycle, bike, Cycling, Indiana, Murder on October 5, 2011 | Leave a Comment »
The next set
Posted in Trainer, tagged bicycle, bike, dreams, Trainer on January 12, 2011 | Leave a Comment »
Xero sleeps on the couch. Leroy chews on a towel in his hutch. I’m turning the cranks, but going nowhere. At least for now. It’s winter in Indiana, with nearly half a foot of snow on the ground and a stinging wind in the air. Even if the single-digit wind chill wasn’t a deterrent, a [...]
Knowledge base
Posted in road bike, tagged bicycle, bike, Cycling, Dogs, Hilly Hundred, Indiana, road bike on October 11, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
This I know. * A Jack Russell Terrier can pass between the wheels of a road bike at cruising speed. * Caught by the chain ring of a road bike at cruising speed, a Jack Russell Terrier temporarily becomes an anchor. This I also know. * A cracked rib, a road bike and a bad road don’t [...]
Enough
Posted in Mountain Bike, tagged bicycle, bike, Cycling, Indiana, Mountain Bike, mtb, Westwood Park on October 7, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
In the end, I’m sitting on the trail, waiting for the adrenaline to drain from my system. Dave’s holding my mountain bike. I’m holding my ribs. The curve rode well. My line wasn’t bad. But on the back side of that sharp turn I drifted too far left, where the trail gives way to a ravine. [...]
The Samaritan
Posted in road bike, tagged bicycle, bike, Cycling, cyclist, Indiana, road bike on October 5, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
She rides with the kitten in one hand, a fist full of tiger-striped fur, the tiny creature squirming and mewing in the most desperate of ways. For nearly two miles she clings to the cat, and the cat to her, past pastures and farmhouses, moving toward Spiceland and a decision about what to do with [...]
Extracts
Posted in Mountain Bike, tagged bicycle, bike, Cycling, Indiana, Mountain Bike, mtb, Westwood Park on August 1, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
As if summer skipped past, a flat rock on a smooth lake, Indiana the place between points of contact. The forest floor begins to flush its color — June’s dark-green leaves now dress in sickly yellow. Pressed by the humidity. Dusted by the stir of the singletrack beneath my wheels. As I round a bend above [...]
The place removed
Posted in road bike, tagged bicycle, bike, Cycling, Indiana, road bike on July 30, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
The escape goes here, down a narrow, hilly road with a rough surface that slants through a woods. It’s a splash of pink in the ditch that causes me to pinwheel my bike and stop. How is it I’ve never seen this before? Amidst a thick tangle of blue chicory are lighter pastel flashes. Same [...]
RAIN 2009
Posted in road bike, tagged bicycle, bike, Cycling, RAIN, road bike, U.S. 40 on July 18, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Another Barbie. Chattering endlessly in an animated voice, she latches onto my rear wheel, figuring my slipstream is good for the last half dozen miles to the finish line. She thinks wrong. Not today. Not when it’s someone who doesn’t offer so much as a polite “do you mind” to the guy she expects to [...]
Oh Maggie I wish I’d never seen your face
Posted in road bike, tagged bicycle, bike, road bike on February 17, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
It’s said there are no bad dogs, just bad dog owners. Not that it matters when some mutt ruins your day. I see the bloodhound as she’s halfway across my neighbor’s lawn, gaining speed, racing toward the road. There’s only time to shout “Dog!” to Dave, who trails just off my back wheel. But it’s [...]
Cashing in the miles
Posted in road bike, tagged bicycle, bike, Cycling, Indiana on February 12, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
The mailbox lies on the ground next to Ind. 234, just outside of Kennard. We’re pushing into a brutalizing headwind, flooded fields to our left and right making it look more like lake country than farmland. “That’s perfect,” I think when I see the name on the mailbox. Bold, black letters spell out “Johnson.” I’m [...]
