Youth Group meets on Thursday evenings at Central Queens Elementary School Gym from 6:30-7:45pm. Anyone in Grade 3+ is welcome to attend. There will be no youth group on days when school is canceled. Thanks … Continue reading Youth Group →
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I by far am not the manliest of fellas. I think an Amaretto Sour is a fine drink and have learned to stomach Project Runway. Tim Gunns tough but fair. I also love Peggy Lee and don’t just watch “Orange Is The New Black” for the shower scenes. I really enjoy the character developments and Uzo Aduba “Crazy Eyes” is a brilliant actress.
All to say I don’t wear my testicles like little tributes of honor on my shoulders. Didn’t man-purses go away in the 80′s? I blame the European Union on this one. I have no basis for this accusation but economic unrest can lead to unforseen consequences. What honestly is wrong with the strapless wallet? Money clips are pretty bad-ass. I can’t even pawn this one off on the metro-sexuals. It’s bigger than them. The gentlemen that have carried them in (and thankfully out) of service have been totally cool, but what decent God-fearing American would accessorize them with their Lees?
It’s the sexiest grupo on the planet, just ask them. I’ve never heard anyone talk with as much passion about a set of hubs as a Campy person. People dig Shimano components and appreciate SRAM but rarely talk orgasmically over them. Campys love-affair with itself makes is totally incompatible with any other component group. Its sorta like a pretty young lady rocking a 3.9 g.p.a. with no identifiable social skills. Exceptionally functional but a bore at mixers. To be fair every company worth its weight in ceramic bearings has a superiority complex. It’s healthy for business. Campagnolo has thought differently for years and in doing so has made some of the best components mechanickind has ever had to never hear the end of.
We see all types of bikes everyday from the luxurious to the practical. Every customer presents their own unique challenge. Every customer has a story and not always an audience to recieve it. In service the doctor is always in and the fee for unsolicited unqualified advice is always free.
I get stories about divorce, death of children, births of children, lifestyle changes, accomplishments, failures and all in the spate of writing up a job order for a flat change. Sometimes you want to give said person a hug and other times just a quote and a time of expectation. You cannot escape the human experience in the bike store and especially not in service. The alcohol in house is generally reserved for employee use only, but some days you just want to clear a space on the counter pass a guy a bottle and a shot glass and just keep the tab open. Understanding the human mind really isn’t my shtick but 44 years has taught me that in most cases we’re all just as lost as the next guy, but perspective like decent beer is everything.
This entry was posted in Columns, So That Others May Ride on September 20, 2015 by Kenneth McPherson.	
So I’m a UX designer. “UX” stands for User Experience and means that it’s my job to make it as easy as possible for users of products to accomplish their tasks. When us UX guys and gals are feeling touchy-feely we create what are called ‘user stories’ where we follow a user from the beginning of a path to their goal and identify friction points and fix them. We are the champions of the end user.
I recently purchased a Garmin Edge 1000, primarily for the LiveTrack and SMS capabilities. Previously I had been using the RoadID e-Crumb app to let my wife follow my rides and get updates on my whereabouts. The concept is sound but the execution is tragically flawed–the app frequently freezes or fails to update making it look like I’m dead on the road. With my phone packed in my pockets with tons of gear I often miss her text message asking if I’m ok.
The Garmin seemed to promise the solution to both problems: more solid tracking and the ability to see incoming text messages if my tracker did fail for some reason.
The reality is that the onboarding is very, very bad and once configured, the remainder of the experience leaves a little too much room for improvement for a $500 bike computer.
In an effort to look chipper and on top of things @Garmin responded to an admittedly cryptic tweet of mine inviting me to contact their customer support. Of course this is an issue for their customer support but it is also an excellent lesson on exactly what kind of setup experience you want to avoid, so I’m posting it here.
This user story is a slightly abbreviated version of my first actual attempt to set up and use LiveTrack on a ride with my wife as the at-home follower.
In order to set up text message notification I needed to pair my Edge 1000 with my iPhone in the bluetooth settings. Pairing required two connections as if my Garmin were two devices. Jeckyl identified himself as ‘BLE_Edge 1000′ and Hyde was BT_Edge 1000′. Or maybe that’s the other way around. Either way, with the devices paired, alerts on, and Garmin Connect running, text messages were not being passed through from the phone to the Garmin. Online forums provided no clues but suggested that this might be a software-version-incompatibility problem, or that this function was simply broken. You never know with online forums.
With my phone linked to my Edge I fired up the Garmin Connect app on my phone and started a LiveTrack session. As part of the setup I needed to invite a contact. Apple’s search filter works great within address book and narrows down the list as you type but here Garmin seemed to have written their own, much worse version. The results you see apparently only match the first letter you typed, and none thereafter.
None of the names shown first on my list matched the letter pattern I typed. Since I’m on a first-name basis with my wife and my friends, and because Apple’s built-in address book sorts by first name, I expect that this will work in the same way.
After finding my wife I obviously choose her SMS number because I wanted her to receive my message right away.
So I had to resend the invite to a real email address AND send a separate text to my wife telling her to check her email manually. She doesn’t see it. The message went to her the Junk folder:
She taps the link and is taken to a web page containing a map and some data. The tracker doesn’t seem to update, even though there have been methods to refresh web pages available for a decade.
There are also aspects of the display that are a little confusing such as the minus before the time and distance. Am I traveling back in time? Do I have 35 miles left to ride?
When thinking about what your viewer may want, elevation gain probably isn’t on the top of their list. More useful would be defaulting to a ‘current’ speed–this way the follower knows if you’ve stopped and if you don’t start moving again within a certain time period they can legitimately start wondering about you.
So my wife sees the screen above and wonders what’s up and sends me a text message asking if everything is ok. My phone gets it quietly but does not register on my Garmin because something failed in the pairing of the devices and instead of producing and error or warning, it gave a confirmation that all was well.
I’m done! After finishing and saving the ride Garmin Connect sends no additional email or text to her so the only way she knows I’m really done and alive is:
Improve error detection so that if a bluetooth connection has a problem that will prevent a text message from getting passed from phone to edge that the user is notified
Postscript: After this first ride I gave the bluetooth pairing another go and deleted all connections and re-added them, with the BLE_Edge 1000 first, after which text messages started showing up on the Edge. As and end user don’t know if this order is important or if it was just luck of the draw that it worked.
Accidental or possibly purposeful, racism happens in the last bastion of all that is pure and decent; the bike shop. Sometimes I don’t think people really take into consideration just what in the hell they are saying. I’m not the Sesitivity Inspector as I failed my civil servants exam but, I think I know foul shit when I hear it. When someone had used that term as part of a poorly slung together anecdote about who she was and who she wasn’t I paused and waited for something from her to expound on her words. I really believe she thought she was using a term that was not offensive like, “fag” or “chink” or Afro-American. Some moments are teaching moments and others are made for Michelob.
Service folks are not cynics by trade but by design. Bikes fatigue just like everything in the known universe. They fatigue even faster if you happen to get hit by a truck. In service our responsibility is to inspect the bikes for anything that could cause future heartache and certain regret.
Step 1 in this dance, is to ask about the health of the one fortunate enough to find time to ride, only to cash in those chips by doing “the bump” with a Chevy. Sometimes you see the person still clearly fucked up trying to address the shifting issues there bike was having pre-wreck. Gotta love (from a distance) the vigor.
Step 2 is seperating the cosmetic damage from a piece destined for a shop art piece. Not every shop has a Jackson Pollack hanging but most will have some sort of homage to a dead bike.
Step 3 is cleaning the frame and inspecting it for telltale signs of damage like missing chain stays. That’s usually a dead giveaway that the bike is beyond repair.
Step 4 is putting your arm around the client’s good shoulder and giving it to them straight. Eye contact is crucial. As their bike is suspended on the gurney lifeless and cold, the way in which you deliver the news is vital to the next step…
Step 5 is the estimate. You usually don’t want to lead with, “I know a guy______”. That works in Jersey and the un-gentrified sections of NYC but sounds like a crock of shit in every other part of the country. Carbon repair is costly but there are avenues that cater to the super metal-type substance. Usually with the steel bikes we see, the fabrication outweighs the cost of the bike. The carbon repair estimate pill for the customer can be harder to swallow than the oxy that they refuse to share, but still cheaper than going new.
I had a customer tell me that she would come over to get her bike as soon as something she had in the oven was done cooking. I really didn’t need to know why she couldn’t come now, but its the quirky people that make life tolerable. When her pie did finish she came over. Empty handed too. Pie almost beats a case of beer for mechanics. You bring pie and you have mechanical friends for life. She did tell me about the network of chicken farmers in town. Again, I don’t know why, but I love a quirky yarn. I think chicken raising may be what hiptsers evolve to after drinking artisan Pabst, skinny jeans and Italian fixed gears are all passe’. Someone will no doubt raise the stakes and have an in town cow named Mabel. Fuck hipsters and their fresh milk!!
This entry was posted in Columns, So That Others May Ride on September 10, 2015 by Kenneth McPherson.	
They are evil. Not like Hitler, but if the two were spoken of in the same sentence I wouldn’t be surprised.
I was talking to a woman the other day and in our conversation she used the acronym, “E.O.D.” (end of day) when I explained that we couldn’t do the service on the spot but would complete it by close. I had no idea what in the fuck she was talking about. I think my expression relayed that. She peeped the grays in my stubble and dumbed it up for me. Unless your hitting two packs of smokes a day, you can spare the breath it would have taken you to complete your sentence. And yes…Get off my lawn!!!
Why are you using code in casual conversation anyway? I don’t think the Russians give two shits about when your bike is going to be serviced unless your riding for Teams Katusha or Astana.
A guy came in from Israel to have his bike assembled. No problem. I took it out of the box to be welcomed by Israeli dirt. The last road this bike may traveled may have been one lf biblical importance. Not too many of those roads in the USA. River Road that runs alongside the Passaic River may be as close as it gets for Jersey. No prophets that I’m aware of floated down those mighty waters, but in Paterson anything’s possible.
As I was giving the bike a good wipe down the grandeur of holy dirt faded. Holy dirt is as much a pain in the ass as the secular stuff. Maybe even moreso. The consistency was clay-like. After applying the holy trinity of bike detailing which is, Simple Green, Bike Luster and a shop rag I took it out of my stand and moved on to a less sanctified machine.
Shops closed. We have specified times of operation like 100% of the business in this country. Just because the doors not locked doesn’t mean the times on the door are bogus.
I’m a people person between the hours of 9 and 5. Something weird happens at 5:01. My warm and fuzzies get a little cold and prickly. We rarely turn people away in service at close, but when we do it’s done with a republican look of abject remorse.
A gentleman comes through our doors drenched in sweat. Not moved by his Herculean efforts to still fall short. He tells me that he just snuck in and then smiles as though I’m supposed to follow with a hi-five or Muslim terrorist fist bump made popular by our president. Stuff happens and people call ahead. We try to be accommodating. Don’t kill yourself or others trying to make it by close for a brake job on your Emonda. Its all about communications and preferably libations. If you have a tri-bike I totally understand your need to improve on your splits in every facet of your life. “It’s a tri-thing, you wouldn’t understand.”
The most awesome thing about biking is just how many people regardless of level of brokenness still have an opportunity to enjoy the sport. The filthy rich shop with us, as do the plain ol’ filthy. It’s all good.
I was helping out a gentleman the other day who looked like the kind of fella that never leaves the house without at least 2 g’s in his Vucana wool lined pockets. That said his tires pop just as easily as mine do. The cycling gods don’t give two fucks about who you are or who you think you may be. He tells me that he’s off on his way to the Hamptons and he needs a few tubes just in case. He became a whole lot less snooty. He was prepared to roll up the sleeves on his Givenchy to do a flat repair. Self made man possibly? I don’t know, but the conversation steered its way towards alcohol with me sitting in the captain’s chair.
I tell him that a beer is in my future. He shares with me that he was never a beer guy and that wine was more his fare. More beer for me more wine for him.
It’s customary to offer to carry out a customers bike. It’s chivalrous in some cases and in other cases quite useless.
A woman comes in to purchase a bike. Someone else has down the heavy lifting of finding her ideal new partner. I help set her saddle and congratulate her on her purchase. As she is preparing to leave her partner walks in the door. His shoulders clear the door frame but not by much. His muscles weighed more than me. The Crusher!!!! Some people live for the gym and others live in it. I’m sure in that gym on the walls hung a sign that stated, “Cardio is Fags” or “Get Ripped or Get Lost”
I offer stupidly and out of habit to bring her bike out to their car. He looks back at me muscles glistening and shit and tells me that he’s got this. I don’t even bother to hold in my gut.
A lot of shit has changed over time. It’s totally acceptable for gangsters to wear skinny jeans, a cup of coffee to cost $3.00 and biblical movies to be trendy. Side Note: I think its fucking awesome that studios need big name stars to sell movies about biblical happenings. It’s the bible! The star power is in the book.
I had sold a guy on a rack for his car. The deal wasn’t complete to him until we shook on it. Sounds good. A nice throwback. Our first flesh-press was firm but not the kind this magnate was accustomed to. He asked for a do-over. I obliged. We took all of one anothers hands and strongly shook them. He made a man of me. The only thing we neglected to do was spit in our hands first. In another time without the saliva the agreement would not have been ironclad. Different times indeed…
I was riding today. Its hot as this is Jersey in July. You see a lotta stuff when your rambling through the different townships. Tiny little slices of America.
One gentleman caught my eye. Average schlubby white guy. I pass by dozens on any given day. When I’m riding and my chamois isn’t quite fitting right, my senses divert my attention from the imminent saddles sores and onto whatever else outwardly has value. When those seams find a weakness, no crotch is safe.
The guy in question was mowing his lawn. Nothing strange there. I looked at his face and saw that he was puffing on a cigar while doing his chore. I’ve seen this before but never really thought too much of it. Guys doing chores with cigars in tow. Ok…What was he trying to convey? He is still a force to be reckoned with? I’m a rebel with or without my Toro?
Regardless of reason, my ass still hurts and is now in intensive care, the guys lawn is mowed and everyone in the neighborhood knows that his lawn was mowed but on his terms…
I was getting ready to leave work and decided that I needed a few supplements for a training ride in the morning. I thumbed through all of the usual suspects: powerbar gels, hammer gels and cliff bar shot blocks. Crack for athletes. Amphetamines got a nasty reputation from half the inductees in the Baseball Hall of Fame, so selling it on our shelves is a no-no. Also bad aftertaste. Shout out to Pete Rose. Let him in!
Gu gels had a flavor that caught my eye, “chocolate outrage”. I wondered for a second if this were marketed towards black endurance athletes or if it were merely a clueless execs attempt at wordplay? Maybe Chocolate Outrage was a hero in DC Comics, “Justice League” that died in Mississippi on his first day on the job from a gamma ray infused noose? Our consolation was Black Vulcan, a friendly sort of subjugated hero that looked like pre-shit going down, OJ Simpson.
How do you mix economic depravity, racism, police abuse, exploitation at-large, etc… and get it in one tiny little foil packet? It doesn’t even sound appeasing to the palate.
That’s almost as bad as a flavor called, Vanilla Power; “superior energy that will last a thousand years, metaphorically speaking of course”. I wish these companies would run their ideas past a more diverse board of marketeers. Maybe “chocolate outrage” would have drawn a flag. Maybe it did and the company looked at their core base and said, “fuck it, blacks make up 2% of our sales anyway”. I doubt it went down like that, by why even give that quandary a breath of life?
My neighbor pulls me aside last night to talk to me. I had no clue as to what he wanted to share, but the look on his face was concerning. I steadied myself for whatever was coming next be it family, house, work, etc…. I was kicking myself for not having had that pint before going outside. In dramatic fashion he told me that the drive train on his mountain bike was skipping. It was really bothering him and sapping his performance. I’m looking at him bewildered. It’s 8pm and not only am I off the clock, but completely sober. I give my probable diagnosis and as quickly as he had gotten my attention he was gone into the night.
You won’t be putting on the regular miles that you do while the weather is warm so your baseline will be lower
You’ll be riding with the extra weight of perspiration and/or precipitation soaked into all of that extra winter gear
Speaking of which, I would recommend choosing shorter routes so that you aren’t tempted to stop for hot chocolate once you’re out. Once soggy you finally gets moving into that cold, winter wind you will immediately regret it, followed by getting hypothermia and dying. Happy riding!
Maybe you paid for the ride in advance. Maybe it just so happens that mother nature decides to dump on your one window of opportunity to ride all week. Whatever, it’s 40 and raining and you’re going to get on that horse and ride it. Here is what I wear in these conditions:
Since you will be using a good outer shell or two you can go a little light on the base layers. I choose a heavy (though not fleece lined) long-sleeved Under Armor shirt and a regular short sleeved jersey. Should the clouds break you’ll appreciate being able to let your arms breathe a little if you remove your outer jacket.
When its cold enough that its almost snowing you don’t need to bother with gore-tex or anything super high-zoot, but you should consider something cycling-specific. The Capo pictured has a little ventilation under the arms, has an extended back side and most importantly, is clear so your club kit shows through!
Even when wet your leg muscles are going to generate plenty of heat. Rainproof pants will be too much for a training ride–stick with two layers of good lycra and you’ll be fine. Avoid thicker fleece as that will just soak up water.
I probably shouldn’t have grouped these together but I did. Here is the bottom line: Unless you have rain-specific gore-tex-lined shoes you’re going to get wet so you might as well prepare for it. The Perl Izumi Barrier Pro shoe covers pictured lasted about 50 minutes in a steady drizzle before I could feel that the dampness was more rain than sweat, which brings me to the second point:
Use the right weight of WOOL sock. Too light and you’ll get cold. Too heavy and your feet will feel like they are wringing out sponges with every pedal stroke. You just want a little light insulation. Wool, as you know, will keep you warm even when wet.
Following the same theme as the shoes you should also know that your hands are going to get wet as well. Bummer. Lucky for you they can remain comfortable. I have an entire writeup on the use of cold water diving gloves for cycling use. They’re pretty good and really the only thing that will work. I just took these babies out for 2.5 hours of non-stop rain and only had wrinkly fingertips as a result.
I like using a cycling cap in the rain as it helps to keep the rain out of my eyes. Glasses are utterly useless so I leave those at home.
PRO TIP: DRY OUT YOUR SHOES QUICKLY UPON RETURNING. Use a space heater or a hair dryer. Once you start growing stuff in your shoes you will NEVER get the smell out. Believe me. The shoes pictured have been washed, bleached, soaked in baking soda, and more. The faint smell of wrong still lingers.