News Flash: Brothers Big Adventure Getting A Classy Send Off!

Arizona must be home of some very nice and interesting and interested people.

The night before our Big Bike Adventure we stay at the Floating Stone Inn & Spa in Tubac. http://www.thefloatingstoneinn.com/welcome/, near the Spanish Fortress from which Lt. Col. Juan Bautista de Anza, the leader whose steps we shall track across the Sonora and Mojave Deserts, began his expedition across the desert in the 1770's.)

Apparently they caught wind of our Big Adventure and created this amazing "Send Off" for us.

As you read, you'll catch the great spirit of the event:

Following the Footsteps of Anza
Wine & Cheese Reception
Friday, March 23, 5:00–6:30PM
A Free Community Event
Plan to stay for the Jazz concert at 7PM $20 - RSVP: 520-398-3193
Come early and soak in our ionized warm water pools for special $10 entry.
16-18 Calle Iglesia, Tubac www.thefloatingstoneinn.com
FOLLOWING THE FOOTSTEPS OF ANZA
Retracing the historic journey of Juan Bautista de Anza
From Tubac, Arizona To Los Angeles, CA on bicycles.
Mark and Kent Shelley will depart Saturday, March 24 to relive the journey of
Anza’s company (which included 240 soldiers and settlers, over 1,000 livestock) in
the first overland crossing of pioneers from what was then New Spain to California
(685-mile journey). A wine and cheese reception will be hosted by The Floating
Stone Inn in Tubac, AZ at 5 to 6:30pm on Friday, March 23, 2012.
Mark (60) is currently Campus Dean at the newly established Northern Arizona University-Yavapai Campus in Prescott Valley, AZ.
Kent (58) is a counselor/psychotherapist living near Port Elgin, Ontario, Canada.

These are the pictures the Floating Stone Inn utilized in their promotion of the event.

Mark is the guy with the yellow shirt sitting on a bike and holding up another bike.

I am the guy with the sunglasses sitting on a bike and holding up another bike.  :-)

Getting In Shape for the Big Ride -- The Heart of the Matter (Conditioning Part 2)

We human beings possess body parts designated as "vital organs." We have other body parts designated as "non-vital organs."

Don't misunderstand. Non-vital organs are important. Where would we be without fingernails? Lips? Hair? (Well, ok, perhaps hair isn't all that important. But nice to have. I kind of miss mine. And I don't like the fact that I shed more hair than my daughter's dog.)

Some non-vital organs are very important and helpful. Such as eyes, noses, throats, feet, hands. But as important and helpful as they are, you can still, albeit often with great difficulty, go on living without them.

Some people, by no choice of their own, are missing some of these non-vital organs. And they choose to go on living. Often very amazing lives. And they have my profound respect and admiration. They have chosen to be Victors and Shapers of Their Own Destiny, not Victims Making Excuses And Blaming Others For Their Lives.

But vital organs are a different matter all together. A vital organ is a can't-do-without piece of you. You die if it stops working or goes missing. Like lungs. Brains. (I know what you're thinking: Some people don't seem to have one and yet they go on living. It is rumored many are successful in politics.)

When it comes to conditioning for this Big Ride, I am actually focusing on three vital organs: Heart, Muscles and Lungs. (I know. Some of you are saying, "But the heart is actually a muscle." You're right. But I am designating it as a special kind of muscle. Thanks for your understanding in this matter. Don't feel like you have to write me about this or make a comment on the blog. Your intelligence and well informed mind is noted and recognized.)


My heart is essential to this trip, because if it stops working, I die.  Or if it doesn't work pretty good, I will probably experience a great deal of discomfort and even illness.

My lungs are essential to this trip, because if they stop working, I die. Or if they don't work pretty good, I will probably experience a great deal of discomfort and even illness. (I think I hear an echo in here.)

Many other muscles in my body are essential for this trip. If they stop working, or get injured and don't work in an efficient way, I will experience a great deal of discomfort, and even possible personal danger. Something like getting a flat tire in the middle of nowhere and not having a spare tire.

My heart, lungs, and muscles have this partnership going that keeps me alive and well.

My lungs and their associated muscles, like expanding contracting balloons, suck in oxygen rich air. The oxygen in the air is the energy source for all things alive in me, which is just about every part of me. (I have been called a "Dead Beat." But I think the reference was more metaphorical than biological.)

The oxygen is amazingly absorbed through the walls of my lungs. (And for this reason, young people, smoking cigs is bad news. It destroys the very tiny hairy like things on the lung walls that transport the oxygen from the air and into your body. Mess up those hairy things, and you can't get the oxygen. To see what this results in, go to a nursing home and visit some older folks who have smoked for several years. Not a cheerful sight.) .

As soon as those oxygen molecules enter your body, they are picked up by your blood and transported to basically every muscle and cell in your body.

This is where the heart comes in the picture. The heart is simply a muscle that squeezes back and forth and puts the pressure on the blood in the tubes (veins and arteries) so that those oxygen energy packages can be delivered and released to the muscles all over your body so that the muscles can move and do their thing.

So, my lungs take in energy packed oxygen, which my blood picks up and carries to all the muscles in my body because my heart keeps the blood moving.

So if my lungs, or muscles, or heart break or don't work really good, I'm toast. Probably literally. I will just stop by the side of the road and get baked by the Arizona sun. Well done Road Kill without automotive assistance.

That is not how I want to spend my vacation. Therefore, I choose to exercise and, as best I can, prepare my heart, lungs, and muscles for this Big Bike Ride.

So, in order to survive and enjoy this Big Bike Ride, I need to condition and create a heart that won't stop pumping and can actually do that pumping really well, lungs that are really good at sucking in that oxygen rich air and scooting it into my blood stream, and muscles that are really good at taking that oxygen out of the blood and burning it like premium fuel (Not a fossil/carbon fuel. Pure bio fuel. Leaves no carbon footprint. But maybe a little exhaust :-) so I can get to the top of the next incline, hill, or mountain or Mexican food restaurant or motel.

In my next posting, I'll describe more what I am doing to condition my heart, lungs, and muscles using my soon-to-be-patented exercise program called "Pain Is Just Weakness Leaving the Body So Just Suck It Up and Stop Complaining (With Insights From the Book The Power of Positive Thinking)."

Training For 11 Very Long Days of Riding (or, How To Create Life In A 58 Year Old Body) Training and Conditioning Part 1

In 26 days Bro Mark and I will wake up to the early morning glow of an Arizona sunrise. (I feel good just thinking about it.)

We will mount our mechanical horses (bicycles) and pedal in a westerly direction.

The largest expanse of desert in North America, and mighty Colorado River, and a coastal mountain range, and (most dangerous of all) about 12 miles of cycling through downtown Los Angeles await us before concluding our 11 day,  675 mile / 1,081 km adventure following the 1775ish trek of Lt. Col. Juan Bautista de Anza as he led the first settler families to their new homes in Alta California.

From the get go, it is obviously that Lt. de Anza was smarter than us. He rode a horse. The horse did the hard work. We pedal bikes. We do the hard work.

Thus the challenge: How do a 58 and 60 year old not-exactly-spring-chickens-type-guys prepare their bodies for eleven days of intense pedaling across one of the most physically challenging environments in North America?

Conditioning is the key.

Compare my before conditioning and after conditioning profile:

Not really. That's not me. I'm just messing with your head. My true profile is somewhere between those pictures. (Well, ok. Probably a little closer to the left. But that blank stare does look like someone I see in the mirror occasionally.)

My training actually began the day I bought my "new to me" $100 Raleigh Hybrid Bike in the summer of 2010 and started riding it; because every time you get on your bike and ride you are training. From Summer of 2010 until November 2011, my training consisted of riding my bike, outside. (The preferred location for riding a bike.)

Most of my rides were in the wee morning hours (as in "early morning" not "constitutionally required morning activity") between 3o minutes and 2 hours, depending on the day and the amount of time I had with respect to other things I needed to do; like go to work and earn money to pay bills, or go on dates with my wife, or spend time with my kids.

Using this simple training plan I enjoyed riding an average of 460 km per month (That's about 115 km per week) this past summer for the months of July, August, and September. That was fun and healthy. But keep in mind that these were all relatively short and not very intense bike rides.

So when we decided to ride the de Anza trail at the end of next month, I realized that a "higher" level of conditioning would be required. So I went to the Source of All Knowledge Regarding Things Bicycle (No, not Google), Bro Mark.

"How," I asked Bro Mark, "do I condition for 11 days of riding with an average distance of 98 km per day (60 miles per day), especially when I will not be able to ride my bike outside from October 2011 until I hop on the seat on March 24, in the parking lot of the Flat Stone Inn, south of Tucson, on the first day of our Big Ride?"

(Too cold and too icy around here to ride outside between November and April or May. And even in May it may still be too uncomfortably cold to ride and be able to say, "That was fun.")

Bro Mark's authoritative answer was simple: "The best conditioner for the cyclist is the kind that makes your hair light and fluffy.  It can be purchased at Wal Mart for a reasonable price."  Bro Mark's precise answer demonstrates a common problem with which most geniuses struggle. Their minds are just like Wikipedia, too full of good information.

So I rephrased the question, emphasizing that I was concerned about my physical, not hair, conditioning. Then he got it. And said, "Buy a Trainer."

Now I'm discouraged. How can I buy a Trainer? I can't even afford to pay a Housekeeper $40 a week to vacuum and dust. I expressed my exasperation to Bro Mark.

He patiently explained to me that a Trainer was not a person, but a machine of sorts. A small triangular looking metal structure. You clamp the rear wheel of your bike into into the contraption. Your rear wheel is now slightly elevated and suspended off the ground, kind of like the way you felt after the office Christmas Party last year.

Now you can get on your bike and pedal like crazy and go nowhere. Very much a real simulation of real life. (This is a terrible exercise program if you care anything in the least about what other people think of your mental health status.)

And just to make the pedaling experience more "interesting" and effective, add to the device a few magnets that somehow create a resistance that you must pedal against. Creates an experience similar to riding through soft sand. So now you are not only going nowhere, but working real hard to do so. Just like real life.

So I bought said Trainer and assembled it and set it up in what we call the "Mud Room."  The Mud Room is like an indoor porch. Most homes in this part of Canada have one. It is the place where theoretically wet jackets and muddy or snow covered boots are taken off and kept so as not to incite the anger of whoever has the responsibility of keeping the house free of the muck and mud of the outside winter world. (This is a "Theoretical Place" because somehow most boots end up on the floor in the kitchen and the jackets end up hanging nicely from the kitchen table chairs.

Our Mud Room is also the winter home of 3 cats and a rather large dog. (Can you see the Dog House? Which has since been moved into the closet that you cannot see. And the Kitty Litter Box? Which still stinks.)

See the Trainer holding up the rear bike wheel.

See the Music Stand which will hold up the lap top which will play the DVD movie which keeps the rider from focusing on the pain of profitable exercise.


And, our Mud Room is not heated. So even though it is protected from the winds and elements, it is still quite cold. Most of the time, this time of the year, it is below freezing. (But I still ride in a T shirt and sweat bullets anyway. Being cold is not a problem doing this type of exercising.)

Such conditions create a rigorous training environment. It would be a perfect training environment if I were planning to ride my bike to the North Pole. Unfortunately, it is nothing like the climate in Southwest USA where we will be trekking. But hey. You got to work with what ya got, right?

So I am going to get into shape using this machine and a disciplined training program.

In my next installment, I will explain my soon-to-patented "Pain Is Only In Your Head -- Ha!" training program.

Two Brothers Really big 2012 Spring Adventure: Planning Continues and the Plot Thickens

Welcome back.

Or "Greetings" for the first time if you are a newcomer to this blog.

Update and recap (of what some people are calling the Two Big Brothers Demented Adventure):

Bro Mark (See his blog azpedaler.blogspot.com) and I currently spend our days preparing for the Two Brothers Really Big 2012 Spring Adventure (when we are not being respectful and responsible and right-minded individuals working meaningful jobs, contributing to society, and helping care for and feed our families)  -- a bicycle ride from Tucson, Arizona (more precisely, Tubac Presideo) to Los Angeles (more precisely, Mission San Gabriel).

Our twelve day 1, 075 km (670 mi) trek will closely follow the 1775 expedition of Spanish Explorer and Soldier Lieutenant Juan Bautista de Anza, as he led a large group of families, troops, and supplies across the Sonoran and Mohave Deserts. These families would eventually colonize the Missions in California, and shape world history by securing Spain's claim over California. If this expedition had not occurred, a Russian flag might be flying over the Golden State (and that wonderful Mexican food would be very hard to find and instead of Taco Bell, people might be eating at Peroge Bell)!

Look at the red line route on the map above. Our journey transverses the middle section of the red line; the part from the Arizona/Mexican border to Mission San Gabriel.

Much of Lt. Juan Bautista de Anza's journey can be approximately followed by auto. Some of our journey shares that route.

But Bro Mark values (Some might use the words "obsesses with," but not me; I am all for the real deal) authenticity and is tweaking our route to follow as closely as possible the original Expedition route. So our journey will find us even a bit more off the beaten track.

Just this past Friday Bro Mark drove by car down to the Tucson area. He reconnoitered a few sections of his revised and more authentic route, created from (the fountain of all knowledge) google maps. 

He wanted to be ascertain that a few unpaved sections of a few roads would in reality be navigable by our road bicycles (i.e. light weight bikes with very skinny tires that do not like soft dirt or big rocks on the ground. Such conditions creating serious discomfort for both bike and rider).

I haven't heard the official report of the reconnaissance mission, but only an email received the next day from Bro Mark describing the lost of two hub caps and the replacement of four tires. (Should I be worried?)

Another purpose of the excursion was to investigate lodging for the night in the small (very small) town of Hyder, Arizona. A challenge with this route is the scarcity of food, water, and shelter.

(A challenge faced by JB de A and his company as well. He addressed the problem by herding along 358 cattle -- The original "slow food"? -- and sticking near by or following the flow of whatever water sources he could find. They also carried tents and camped. Bro Mark and I address these problems by finding convenience stores, restaurants, and motels. A slightly different level of adventure, for sure. But remember, Lt. de Anza was a professional. We are amateurs and civilians. De Anza was paid to suffer these things. We are on vacation.)

Bro Mark reports, however, a very hopeful connection with a local resident and store owner who just might be able to help us find a place to rest our heads for a night in Hyder. If such arrangements cannot be secured, we will simply have to make that a very long day of pedaling on to the next cluster of civilization. I'm hoping for good news from Hyder.

In the meantime, I am supposed to be "training." And that's what my next blog will be about: How to find or create enough energy and life in my 58 year old body for this Big Adventure. Stay tuned for some great fiction! :-)

(Bro Mark has been doing some very creative training such as hauling around a 10 pound weight in his back pack to experience what that might feel like. Now Bro Mark is a very intelligent guy. He even has a Ph.D. But he might be to embarrassed to write about such craziness in his blog. But let's just watch and see if he does or doesn't.)

Biggest Adventure Ever

While the winter snows whip through the mile high town of Prescott, Arizona in the Southwest USA, and sub-freezing, pre-chilled Arctic winds blast across the Great Lakes pounding the Province of Ontario, Bro Mark and Bro Kent ponder and plot their next big bike adventure.

Beyond a doubt, Bro Mark and I are mad, as in crazy, not upset. (This statement creates no surprise for those who have known us for more than five minutes.)

After two relatively simple and "easy" rides over the past year (Which you can vicariously experience by checking out previous postings on this blog and entries on Bro Mark's blog http//azpedaler.blogspot.com), we decide to stretch our skills, strength, and sanity.

Prior to opening the envelope, I must prepare you for the news.

Understand  Bro Mark took his first breath of air (and month full of sand) from the Mojave Desert. Yep, he was born there. Also understand that Bro Mark, almost from infancy, entertains this profound curiosity about the Early Spanish Explorers of the American Southwest. (This natural inclination no doubt radically fueled by the California public school education system shaping his impressionable childhood.) Understand as well Bro Mark provides the genius (and most of the money!) behind our Big Adventures (So I ain't going to argue with him). Important to note that  he also "knows the Territory."

One of Bro Mark's Early Spanish Explorer Heroes occupies a noteworthy place in every history book reflecting on the beginnings of Non-Native presence in the Southwest. Juan Bautista de Anza. First to cross the Sonora and Mojave deserts around 1774. Well, heck, let's go straight to the source. Here's what Wikki says:

"In 1772 he proposed an expedition to Alta California to the Viceroy of New Spain. This was approved by the King of Spain and on January 8, 1774, with 3 padres, 20 soldiers, 11 servants, 35 mules, 65 cattle, and 140 horses, he set forth from Tubac south of present day Tucson, Arizona. The expedition took a southern route along the Rio Altar (Sonora y Sinaloa, New Spain) then paralleled the modern Mexico/California border and crossed the Colorado River at its confluence with the Gila River. This was in the domain of the Yuma tribe with which he established good relations. He reached Mission San Gabriel Arcangel near the California coast on March 22, 1774..."

 Bro Mark plans on writing a book about J.B. de A. But Bro Mark doesn't just write books. He provides readers with experiences. He wants his readers to feel the heat and sunburn. Taste the dust. Squint the eyes. Blah. Blah. Blah. So Bro Mark had a couple of options.

(1) Find an Early Spanish Explorer with 3 padres, 20 soldiers, 11 servants, 35 mules, 665 cattle, and 140 horses that he could tag along with across the desert. But not even one such explorer (and suitable accessories) was to be found. Even on e-Bay. (Go to Plan B.)

(2) Find a slightly younger brother who was once a minister (kind of like a padre, even if he isn't Catholic), peels potatoes like a soldier (but escaped the draft in 1972 because he just moved to Canada), has picked up after 8 kids like a servant (Actually, he didn't. But it makes the narrative of the blog go better. Sorry, kids.), and shares embarrassingly obvious comparisons to  mule and cattle not to be expounded on at this time, and take him instead.

But in place of horses, bicycles will be utilized.

And so it is decided. And so it will be.

The next Two Brothers' Big Adventure will begin just south of Tucson, Arizona, and as closely as possible follow the route of Captain Juan Bautista de Anza, across the Sonoran and Mojave Deserts to the mission in San Gabriel (near Los Angeles) , California.

Our 12 day trip of 669 miles (1,072 km) in the last week of March and first week of April will take us through Gila Bend, Yuma, Hemet, Riverside, Moreno Valley, and San Gabriel, to name just a few places.

(Unless you are a local to that area, you may not recognize the names of these places. They aren't all big places. In fact, one of the challenges of planning this trip is that we are travelling through mostly unpopulated regions, terrifyingly devoid of convenience stores and fast food -- essentials for our survival.)

We will carry our gear on bikes and backs. Sleep dead to the world (hopefully in a metaphorical way) each night in motels.

So just because I enjoy thinking and talking about it, in future blogs over the next few weeks I will share more about the trip. How we are training. What we will be seeing and experiencing. Etc.

Should one of you readers have some experience in these kinds of big bicycling adventures and believe you have some insights, suggestions, and hints that might just save our lives, please feel free to share them. (You can comment on either of our blogs. Or you can email me direct at kent@bmts.com.)

I'd love to tell you more right now, but today is a "training day" for me. (Training in December was riding my bike on my indoor trainer for a half an hour every 2 or 3 days. For this month of January I have been riding for one hour every other day. I will increase that amount in February and tell you all about that then.) So, I'd better go pedaling fast nowhere, for now.

Stay tuned for more on the Big Adventure of Markos de Maniac and Kentos de Crazy.

Kind of How It All Started

 In the Spring of 2010, two experiences transpired that would eventually pave my way into the world of adult bicycling.

The first experience wasn't so great: A developing condition of osteoarthritis in my lower back and knees escalated to the point of severe pain when getting in and out of a car, and stepping off a sidewalk. "I'm too young for this!" moaned me.

Ironically, all the literature says the best treatment for this type of condition is "more exercise." Yet movement creates excruciating pain. What's a guy to do?   Swimming is highly recommended. But finding an accessible pool, or building my own, wasn't to be. (I live kind of out in the middle of nowhere, or so most city dwellers would define my stomping grounds, and, I don't have extra money floating around to build a pool.)

Finding a convenient, low impact, high areobic exercise was ellusive. (The rationale for exercise and osteoarthritis hinges on the idea that a radical increase of blood supply, such as is experienced in serious exercise, seems to "heal" or at least slow the degenerative bone and joint breakdown. This, I am happy to report, has indeed, so it seems, been my experience. I am take one Aleve each morning. That's it. And since I have been consistently riding, I have not had a level of pain worth complaining about.)

The second experience was much more pleasant and exciting: My older brother, Mark (check out his bike blog at http://azpedaler.blogspot.com) re-introduced me to the bicycle. Mark had been falling in love with road biking for a few years. His enthusiasm contagious.

I added the two experiences together. I needed a form of good, heart pounding, blood pumping exercise. A bike needs a rider. Match made.

I actually did not own a functioning bike in the Spring of 2010. I did, however, stored deep in the bowels of my dirt floor basement, own a 1972 Peugeot 10 Speed. A high school graduation present. I rode it off and on through my university years and early married life. But at some point, like Puff the Magic Dragon, it got cast aside. Literally. When I started searching for it in the basement, I really wasn't sure if I still had it, or had taken it to the dump, excuse me, landfill site, somewhere along the way.

The green Peugeot was covered with rust and dust. But in a very apologetic spirit ("Dear Bike, Please forgive me.") I dusted, washed, and scrubbed the almost collectible specimen. It was now clean, but very very rusted and sad looking. Cracked plastic cable housings. Almost seized chain.

But I am the type of person who usually sees the glass half full, or in this case, the tires half inflated (which, amazingly, they did). So I loaded the Green Machine (I named it by this point, which means I am starting to get attached to it) in the back of my van and took it to a local bike shop. Actually, the only bike shop in my ruralish unpopulated neck of the woods.

The owner/operator of this bike shop is a great guy and really knows his bike stuff (I would learn over the next year. He has been very patient and helpful in many ways since then.). But I learned he's  not real big on chit chat.

I wheeled my I-am-sure-with-a-little-grease-and-tweaking-this-bike-can-again bike to the service counter and asked, "Can you make this bike street respectable again?" Mr. Bike Shop Man barely glanced at the bike. Did I detect a suppressed or amused chuckle, as if I had just told him a stupid joke? Maybe. Maybe not. But he was honest.

"We would have to strip it down to the frame. Most of the parts are not made anymore. New parts won't fit." Ok, I get that. But then the killer comment: "You should take it home, put it in the garden, and let flowers and vines grow around and over it. It would look quite nice." (No joke. That's what the man said.)

Bummer. Plan A: Resurrection Awesome High School Bike must be aborted.

The drive home that day was solemn. My thoughts vascillated between planning a funeral for the Green Machine (But how do you do that if it has actually been dead for years?) and trying to come up with a Plan B to address my bike replacement dilemma.

 (The flower pot bike idea and the funeral never took place. The Green Machine is back in the basement, in deep hyper-sleep awaiting for the advancement of bike part donor technology to develop enough to secure his resurrection. But he is not alone. Flanked on one side by my 33 year old son's first bike, "The Yellow Rocket," and on the other side by Brother Mark's Schwinn Contenental , which was old when he got it used in high school and is now probably quite collectible. But don't try to snatch these cyclic cadavers out of my basement. You will not, I repeat, will not escape alive. Indiana Jones tried. Guess why he quit making movies?)

Back to the question: What is a wanna be bike rider supposed to do without a bike?

I went to see Bob. Bob has a simple sign on his front lawn, "Bikes For Sale." Bob has no last name. He's smart. He doesn't want to be tracked. (I seriously doubt if "Bob" is really his first name, either.) Bob says he "buys" bikes at police auctions and flea markets, etc. Maybe he does. I've also heard the Mafia  provides protection for people.

At any rate, Bob has a large garage/workshop full of all kinds of bikes. In the summer months he puts them out on his front lawn with his highly descriptive "Bikes For Sale" sign. (I often wonder if the fact that he spends 6 months of every year out of the country is significant. He says he has a home in Florida. But if I was on a Most Wanted List, I would say something like that, too. He has probably created so much bureaucratic confusion between the RCMP and the FBI that he will never be tracked. I sure hope he doesn't read this.)

So I meander through the maze of bikes surrounding Bob's Bicycle Emporium and Pre-Recyling Frame Depot. And then I saw it. Big. Bold. Bright Red. And priced right. A Raleigh mountain bike-type bike. Nothing fancy. No springs. No bells. No whistles. Seat extra.  I road it up and down the street a few times. Felt good. The front wheel and back wheels did not line up exactly in a straight line. But I have astigmatism, so that doesn't really bother me.  (Later I would learn that the frame is slightly bent. But that's ok. Kind of like buying a used car with a dent. At least you know you won't put the first dent in it.)

I paid Bob. Cash. No cheques or credit cards. (What? You're not surprised, are you?)


As I loaded Big Red into my van for the trip to his new home, I was thrilled.

Big Red and I had a great summer together. His big tires were well suited for the matrix of rough pavement and gravel roads in my neighborhood. And his heavy steel frame and lack of a few of the gear sprockets ("Sorry," says Bob, "Those can't be fixed.") combined to provide me with hours of good cardio workouts.

My brother supplied an odometer when he came to town for my son's wedding in May. (He was kind enough to not laugh aloud at Red. In a few months I would understand why a laugh might have been appropriate. You see, my perception of "biking" was about to be expanded beyond anything I could imagine. More about that in future blogs.)

Biking the Summer of 2010 involved the great routine of actually "parking" Big Red in the back of my 1997 Chevy Astro Van. (This van was getting so old that I couldn't lock all the doors. They had rusted beyond the lockable stage. So I had to use a bike lock to lock Big Red to the interior van frame of the van.) I drove the van all over the county to the four different offices from which I do my counselling. So whenever I had an hour or more break between clients, and didn't want to spend an hour of my summer inside an office doing paperwork, I unhitched Red from his mobile home and we rode, almost every day. Those almost daily spins where a highlight of my summer.

As summer subsided, and fall fell, Brother Mark and I started thinking crazy. We got this nuts-so idea that we could perhaps do some "serious" (which actually means "not so serious, lots of fun") bike riding together.

Slightly problematic. In a few ways. Bro Mark lives in Arizona. Bro Kent lives in Ontario, Canuckland.

No problem, says Bro Mark, better known to many as "The Fixer," as in "The Problem Solver." He's got lots of "air miles" so as to get me to AZ. I can go there. (This works great, especially since my family doesn't mind, much, going hungry when I take time off work.) What about my bike? Can Big Red come too? No. Unfortunately, Big Red cannot come. He has a heart condition and cannot fly. Nor can he ride in airplanes. No problem, says Bro Mark, The Fixer. He says, "Just plant Big Red in the garden and let flowers grow around him and......." Wait. No. He didn't say that.

But Mark did say, "I will buy you a decent bike." The offer, the deal was simple. Mark will buy me a real road bike, and I will not get anything from him for my birthdays or Christmases until one of us dies. Then we won't worry about exchanging gifts anyway. Nor will I be in his Will. And the other part of the deal was that I must promise, actually sign in blood, that I will never tell the world a bunch of stuff I know about him because we grew up together and I was very observant and Mark wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was about a bunch of stuff that he knows that I know about him. A great deal. We both win.

And so the following March (2011), I flew (in an airplane) to AZ. And Mark and I had our first "Two Brothers' Big Adventure." (Notice that the adjective "Big" modifies the noun "Adventure." It is not, the "Two Big Brothers Adventure." If that were the case, "Big" would modify the noun "Brothers." And we don't use the word "Big" to describe either one of us, whether it is accurate or not. We are serious and sensitive about this. And this has nothing to do with Mark's addiction to corn dogs or my addiction to Dr. Pepper.)

Well, this is a good place to end this blog like chapter. Next time, I'll tell you a bit about that First Brothers' Big Adventure.

Thanks for sharing the time with me. Ride Safe.

The Journey Begins Here

Ready to Roll

Most of the time I ride alone. Not that I am anti-social. But there just aren't very many people up and about and eager to pedal as the sun rises near my rural home.

But I sense that whether a person rides alone by either choice or circumstance, most bikers celebrate biking as a shared experience. A "Brotherhood of Bikers" type thing.

Biking is (usually) a pleasant, happy experience. Such experiences we enjoy sharing. Either with someone at the moment. Or at a later time. Perhaps over a cup of tea. Or, as in my case, through the technological miracle of "the blog."

My biking and blogging delight will be to share past, present, and future riding experiences for the simple purpose of giving the interested biker, or just interested person, the pleasure of a simple story of something that really happened in real life, from the vantage point of a bike seat.

I hope you enjoy the adventures we share as bike and blog together.