Today I Met The Grey Bearded Biker

Cold steel, the bike doesn’t have bar tape.  I’ve lived in Cincinnati’s Columbia Tusculum neighborhood for four years and for four years on my commute in to downtown I’ve seen Grey Beard at least weekly riding in the opposite direction.  All year round, his outfit never seems to change: thick dark hoodie, weathered overalls, leather gloves, no helmet.  Some days I’m in my truck, other days I’m on a bike too.  Unbeknownst to him, occasionally we pass at the Montgomery Inn Boathouse, other days St. Rose Church always on Riverside Drive.  He rolls his drive side pants leg up, exposing a light tan leather boot top.  On colder days his messy crop of grey hair occasionally peeks from under a knit hat.  His unmistakable grey beard always catches the wind.  I met him today, it figures, at Starbucks.

Who is this guy who rides away from downtown on a beater at 8:15am?

Cincinnati’s East End and Columbia Tusculum neighborhoods along the riverfront are mixed.  3- 700 thousand dollar houses share the road with modest apartments and dilapidated structures eligible for the “We Buy Ugly Houses” people.  A barge/rail terminal sits adjacent to this month’s latest fire victim and next month’s new condo.  In this mix of wealth and poverty, industry and small business, luxury and staples, on any given Saturday morning a guy carrying a 12-pack under his arm while one-handing a beater mountain bike gets passed by a jogger with $150 shoes and an iPhone strapped to her upper arm.  I’d be stereotyping if both the guy with the 12-pack and the jogger weren’t my neighbors.  To each their own.  Question is where does Grey Beard fit in?

From the fleeting seconds I’ve seen Grey Beard from my truck at 35mph, the 25 year old relic of a bike looks like it was picked from the recycling pile behind the bike shop.  It’s a dirty purple, maybe maroon, with down tube shifters and platform pedals, sort of like the one pictured without the racks.  The seat post is low, but fits his legs.  The bars are turned down and he’s stretched out.  His hands engulf the small hoods, brake lever and all.  All-that aside, he rides with remarkable speed, confidence and form: knees in, back low, beard in the breeze.  What intrigues me the most about this oddity is the lock and chain knotted around the bars and quill stem.  He obviously cares about the bike. 

It's no surprise.  He said he got the bike from a friend’s shed for nothing.  I met him today for the first time at Starbucks, of all places.  I held the door for him as he walked in behind me and struck up a conversation.  “Hey.  I see you nearly every week on my way to work.”  Well spoken, he says he’s almost home.  He works overnights downtown.  He’s on his way home when I’m on my way to work.  He is a neighbor and the bike is an old Miyata.  He invested $250 into it to keep it alive.  Up close, aside from being weathered, the bike sports newer tires.  The cables, saddle, and wheels seem to be in decent shape.  It’s solid vintage steel.  He says he knows his bike isn’t pretty, but it gets the job done, 12 miles a day. 

He asked if I ride and what kind of bike I have.  “I ride a Kuota" clarifying, "an Italian bike.”  I kick myself thinking I was too pretentious with the Italian comment, but he asks if it’s one of those “really light ones.”  "Yep.  It’s carbon fiber.”  Half expecting a roll of the eyes, he says something like, “Man, I just love the brakes on those newer bikes.”  I mention how well they modulate speed.  He understands.  He’s genuinely interested talking bikes.  We're clicking, but the barista was too quick.  My coffee is ready.  Sadly, I didn't have time for a picture.  “Have a good day,” I say.

As I pull my big dumb SUV out of the lot on Earth Day, the Starbucks door swings open.   With coffee in hand, he walks toward his Miyata, now appearing much cooler than the first time I had seen it.  My roof rack catches his eye and he waves.  Affirming, I wave back.  We’re two bike guys, one punching in, the other punching out.

The Sink Shower: As Seen On The Best Bike Blog Ever

I’ve performed the ritual of the Sink Shower™ at nasty trailhead restrooms as well as nice restaurant bathrooms.  If you’re familiar with Allyn’s café on Cincinnati’s east side, I took a Sink Shower™ there once and then sat down for some killer Jambalaya.

A sink shower is the perfect way to quickly make you publicly presentable after a hard bike ride by essentially bathing at the sink of a public restroom.  Note I said, “at” the sink, not “in” the sink.  There is a difference that I do not need to explain.  There are certain buckets you don't put your berries in.

I am inventing The Sink Shower™ Kit right now.  So, if you’re a cycling company or a toiletry company, back up the Brinks truck in my driveway and we’ll talk when I get home. 

There is an art involved (that’s where the nifty Sink Shower™ Kit comes into play) and best of all you don’t need to get completely naked in public. 

The Basic Sink Shower Kit™ comes with the following items in an easy to carry plastic case that’ll fit nicely in your cycling backpack with (to take a term from my 7th grade gym teacher) street clothes.  Currently I use one of those trendy plastic Clinique bags that you get for free when you visit the women in white lab coats at Macy’s to buy some manly face lotion and shave products...so metrosexual.

1)                 Small bar of soap

2)                 Two small wash cloths

3)                 Small can of body spray deodorant

4)                 Swimmer’s Chamois

5)                 Plastic grocery bag

The Anywhere Sink Shower Kit™ adds these items:

1)                 Baby Wipes (where there’s not running water)

2)                 Baseball Hat (if you’re really in a hurry)

3)                 Larger Sized Tower (for hiding your junk in public)

Sink Shower Nirvana at Chevron Gas Station

Before you go baring it all in a public restroom, realize there are a few types of public bathes: the single and the community.  Both come locked and unlocked, stalled and unstalled.  It’s best to find a locked single with hand soap and paper towels.  

Taking a Sink Shower™ in a single locked public restroom is easy.  It’s all you baby, nirvana.  Take your time and enjoy yourself, figuratively.  However, taking a Sink Shower™ in an unlocked community restroom takes some tact.  It’s Murphy’s Law, or something like it, that someone is bound to come in at the worst possible moment.  That’s why you should learn the Sink Shower Technique™.

The Sink Shower Technique™

Step 1)           Cover the floor.  Put your Sink Shower Kit™ on the counter or sink and pull out one of your small wash clothes or some paper towel and make an area to stand on the icky floor.  1 minute.

Step 2:            Prepare your soap, 2nd washcloth and swimmer’s chamois so you can use them quickly.  Open the bag with your street clothes, and pull out what you’re going to wear, leaving the bag ready for your smellies.  2 minutes.

Step 3)           Quickly disrobe and wash your top half.  Women can use the larger sized towel in the Anywhere Sink Shower Kit™ to cover upand still get the washcloth where it needs to go.  No running water, no problem.  Break out the baby wipes.  Notice how the floor covering sops up the water that’s bound to drip off you.  Use the Swimmer’s Chamois to quickly dry off.  Apply spray deodorant.  Dress your top half.  2 minutes.

Step 4)           Do the same for your bottom half.  Tie the big towel around your waist to hide your junk as you wash.  2 minutes.

Step 5)           Stuff your stinkies and used Sink Shower Kit™ stuff in the plastic bag.  If your hair isn’t up to snuff, don the baseball hat.  Pack up.  2 minutes.  Extra if you need to put on make up.

Joe-Made Fender = Fail

In anticipation of a wet Sub9 Death March this Saturday, I made a fender from this 100 count CD tower.  I work at a radio station and empty compact disc towers are as abundant as men and women who can give you the time and temperature four different ways.  Its 44 degrees at 4:44.  That’s 16 minutes before the hour and we’re expecting a shower.  44 minutes past four and the thermometer reads 44.  Quarter to five and just shy of 45.  See.  I’m not making that up.

Tube snippet btwn frame & fender keeps it from slipping

In the respect that my Joe-made fender may keep some water from hitting the front of my body during the Death March in Hoosier National Forest, I have succeeded.  In the respect that it looks like a pot smoking 10^th grade shop class dropout crafted it from a CD tower of Metallica bootlegs with a pair of dull tin-snips and ugly green zip ties, it’s also…a glaring success!  In your eyes, you are making a note never to ask a certain blogger to come over and help with your home construction project.

Anything I cut ends up looking as straight as Steve Buscemi’s smile.  I know.  Measure twice and cut once.  The problem is my one cut is always more crooked than a Wall St. hedge fund manager.  I threw my first three drafts away.  I will blame the first two attempts more on the plastic being too brittle or the possibility that I am left handed and the tin snips were not.  The third attempt got burned.  A friend suggested that I heat up a screw driver to poke holes in for the zip ties rather than drilling and risking cracking the plastic.  That really didn’t work.  So I tried heating up the plastic.  While I enjoyed a 3 second high from the fumes, I turned my fender into a burnt Frito Lay potato chip reject.  It should be noted that I cannot operate a cigarette lighter and should never be put in the position of using anything with fire aside from the stove and only under direct supervision of an adult.

My fourth attempt wasn’t that bad.  Well it wasn’t awful.  It didn’t totally suck.  Well maybe it did.  Yeah.  As the two old men critics on the Muppet Show would say from their balcony, “That was horrible.  Get him off the stage.  Boooooo!”

The only redeeming qualities of my ho-made fender are that it is clear, which looks kind of sporty.  It probably will keep some water from hitting my legs and working its way into my socks, which is also nifty.  The glaring FAIL is that while the edges are straight, they are not 90 degree from the factory cut edges.  It’s also slightly off center.  Okay, the Mississippi River runs straighter between Dubuque and New Orleans.  And, after reading a recent article in Bicycling Magazine about Aero bikes versus light bikes…my fender is as aerodynamic as a city bus.

The final death blow is that you can buy a nifty perfect fender, that's much better than mine for one tenth of the time commitment for $9 at your local bike shop or REI if you click here.  That’s sort of disconcerting when I figure I put at least 2 hours into this project.  How much do you make an hour?  I'm guessing enough to buy a freaking $9 fender.