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I bought several pieces of gear from them one was my Cat Eye Cycle meter. The best thing I found was this bicycle seat. It was in a glass case along with an assorted tangle of bicycle parts. In this tangle there was one partially hidden bicycle seat. It had no price tag and no one had any idea how long it had been there. People that had worked there for 15 years remember it being there as long as they remembered. All I know is that it was as hard as a rock.
We negotiated a fair price $80 I then took it home and put it on my Surly Crosscheck. I took one ride and immediately changed it back to my padded comfy seat.
Like most people I thought a soft cushioned seat would be soft and comfortable, but this soft comfy seat was the seat I had learned to hate. I had taken two trips and suffered from blisters and chafing. Short commuting trips were fine but months in the saddle this seat was pure torture.
I ran into Collin Lang who had built a bike I had purchased third hand. It was a Col-Ian steel road bike hand built by Collin and his son Ian in 1980. That was my first step up from the Huffy I rode for a few years. I had found the 27" Huffy in a dumpster behind my apartment. Collin examined the bike and said it was his personal team bike when they were located in Tucson Arizona.
Collin was involved in the Tour De France as a builder and coach for many years. He fit his creation to me and taught me a lot about adjusting and maintaining the bicycle. This was my training bike for several years until I could no longer find replacement parts for the classic Campagnolo drive train.
I told him about the seat and what I was doing to soften it. In has best British accent he said it is a damn bicycle seat just put it in a bucket of water then ride on it. I asked how long or how far? He said months and 1000 miles. I thought he was nuts but that is exactly what I did.
Trust me, the first 1000 miles was as he had said miserable. I started in Florida and headed north to Maine, a very long way from my cushioned seat that was back in Arizona. I cursed Collin and that damn seat for weeks but one day it became manageable. I had won the battle between hard leather and my ass.
I have noticed my 34+ year old saddle is much thicker than the newer Brooks seats. The Brooks company has changed hands several times so who knows where they are made today. I'm sure this one is old enough to have been manufactured in their original workshop by the original craftsmen. It is thick and heavy but extremely comfortable for me because it fits me exactly.
Collin also taught me it is worth paying the price for a high quality cycling short with a high quality chammy. If you are on the bicycle day after day one small blister can become a big problem if it is not addressed immediately.
Friction is the enemy and a soft comfortable padded seat creates friction, but a smooth leather form fitting seat reduces friction. Most seasoned touring cyclists prefer a smooth leather seat. Like I said this seat is my most prized bicycle possession. It has solved one of the major issues or concerns of day after day touring.
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FREEDOM
Freedom is the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint, and the absence of a despotic government.... The right to freedom of association is recognized as a human right, a political freedom and a civil liberty.
1 : the condition of having liberty The slaves won their freedom.
2 : ability to move or act as desired freedom of choice freedom of movement.
3 : release from something unpleasant freedom from care.
4 : the quality of being very frank : candor spoke with freedom.
5 : a political right freedom of speech.
I don't want to make this blog political so my focus is not on the "R" or "D" tribal crap it is focused on "us" and "them". I was born in 1951 in a small town founded by Quakers in 1806. There is a history of Abolitionists and a stop on the Underground Railroad.
There are no active Quaker meeting houses but the town has about 30 churches and 30 bars. The school mascot is Quaker Sam so we were the home of the fighting pacifists.
I was a free range kid, be home when the street lights come on, but that was even optional. Summers were a year long and our play ranged from the Little Rascals to the Lord of the Flies. We hunted, trapped, played pick up baseball that was more like dodge ball, because of the lack of players you were out if the ball hit you. We actually had unsanctioned by any responsible parent BB gun fights. The rules were, only three pumps and no head shots......yeah right.
School was still basic, we had reading, writing, math, and recess twice a day this was my all time favorite. Shut up was a swear word and Miss Herginrouther lead us in a thankful prayer before lunch.
There were kids with rifle racks in their pick up trucks but it was nothing like the red neck actors on Netflix. I can't say we were in a gun culture they were just there, we learned very young not to fear them.
We knew very young to respect guns, we were trained in their proper use and handling. To us they were just tools or machines not selfdefense or offensive weapons. I do imagine there were people that thought that way, but it never entered our minds.
Over the years I lost any interest I had for firearms, but I do see a need for the right to have the option. I knew a very petite woman who worked late in a strip mall salon until after sunset. She drove alone fifty miles on a crowded freeway with a large amount of cash so a cell phone and a fire arm made sense for her peace of mind.
Most homes in our town were not locked, cars had the keys in the ignition and the danger of walking alone on a dark street was the danger of tripping or stepping in a hole.
Men stood when women entered a room. No hats at the dinner table, no elbows on the table and my brother and I had to ask permission to leave the table. No one would swear in front of a child and men watched their language in front of women. There was even a limit on how men used profanity around other men.
If boys or even big boys that are called men got in a fight it was one on one, no weapons and it was over when their was a decided advantage. They usually sorted out whatever it was in one fight, some avoided one another and some shook hands. Fighting is usually stupid but there was a sense of honor and unwritten rules.
Sundays were amazing, we had the "Blue Laws" in effect. Only one gas station was open and a pharmacy was open until noon. There were many options to Sunday, most people went to church, many went fishing or took a drive (gas was 30 cents a gallon). The younger ones would cruise, go to the lake or play baseball or flag/tackle no helmet football. They did sell 3.2% beer but the bars were not open. My choice was buying enough beer before 6 pm on Saturday night.
My point to all of this is, I grew up free. It sounds like we had plenty of rules but they were rules based on honor, respect and a sense of right and wrong. We took civics and history in school, we learned how the country was founded, how government works, but mostly the responsibility of being a citizen. We were encouraged to think for ourselves, the only pressure to conform was to obey the laws. We were taught how to participate in government and how to approach everything with the underpinning of virtue.
I wrote a report on President John Adams my favorite quote is : "Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.”
This quote is revealing today. I grew up thinking our leaders had this virtue but decade after decade things must have changed. I for a long time have seen our corporate media lose direction but there has always been someone dedicated to telling the truth. It is getting harder and harder to find this. Because of this we were taught to question things and read between the lines. I have no clue what my teachers politics were it wasn't my business so I didn't ask.
The freedom of speech is being challenged at a level I have not seen in my life, but this is a bicycle blog. The freedom of movement is what I worry about. The fact that I have traveled coast to coast and the length of our coastlines both Atlantic and Pacific feeds my wanderlust.
I have traveled in other ways to Europe, Canada and Mexico. Crossing international borders does feel invasive but they have a right to be picky about who they let in to their country. Agricultural inspection in California and Hawaii are for a reason but it still feels invasive. Traveling by air is really invasive but if you want on you just bite the bullet (figure if speech).
Secret no fly lists, surveillance, facial recognition, fingerprint log in and GPS tracking give the user a great deal of information and control. I think back about the John Adams quote and wonder if the powers that be still have that virtue.
The freedom I enjoyed as a kid was local. The Federal government was mostly hands off in those days. As you read this you may think my up bringing was limited or repressed. The truth is we were kids that were subject to every adult that witnessed our misbehavior. We learned how to act by watching the adults around us who modeled proper behavior.
They realized we were watching their every move so they monitored their own behavior. It sounds prudish or backward but the changes in our culture and the invacive "help" of the Federal Government may have a hand in the loss of virtue today.
My mode of transportation will probably go under the radar, but as a free citizen protected by the Constitution I wonder how free I am today. It seems the things that were so innocent have now been redefined and have become evil. I have been redefined by my gender and skin color. I have been pushed into a group I have never identified with and who knows my thoughts and opinions may one day be declared hateful.
I am truly disturbed by resent events and once again it isn't an "R" and "D" thing it is an us and them thing. My heart breaks for the level of hate that is out there trying to divide us. The only thing that will heal this division is that the average citizen not participate in the hatred. Talk to each other see a person not a tribal member. Go back to a simpler time and expect virtue from our leaders. We gave them power they need to be responsible to us and I mean all of us.
I have no answers or a plan of action, things will be what they will be. I am writing this not because my team won or lost it is because I'm old enough to know what we are losing and that my heart breaks for our young people, they may never know true freedom.
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Wesley Hanna
This man was born in 1900 and died in 1985, he is still alive in my mind and heart. He lived near the town I grew up in, in fact he sold the land to the city where they built their water reservoir. The house he had lived in for 70 years was built from the trees and field stone on the land.
I didn’t know him until he was older but he had lived a full life of business and farming. He was obviously a large powerful man as a younger man. Now he was a quiet gentle man with a bad heart. His wife was a few years younger but limited by age.
The interaction between them was fun to watch after more than 60 years together I only saw the end product. I’m sure there were epic fights, crisis and joys along the way.
I made the mistake at first seeing them as old people. The longer I talked with Wesley the more I realized his mind and spirit were still young. The wear and tare of life plus many hard years had taken it’s toll. I’m beginning to understand this in my own life.
Wesley had not lived more than five miles from where he was born. I’m not sure he traveled much. Some may think he had a limited life but I absolutely know he had a full life.
He was informed about current events and history. He was well read and owned an amazing amount of books. He quoted everything from Henry Thoreau, William Shakespeare to the King James Bible. He had a college degree and had the wisdom and sharp mind of a farmer.
By farmers mind I mean he was a weather man, knew commodity markets, math, engineering, carpentry, plumbing, electricity, mechanics, understood the handling and care of animals and yes he could grow and harvest crops. He ran heavy equipment, worked in coal mines and did custom farming. He was a leader in the local Grange, active on the school board and I think he was a county politician.
I didn’t ask about his past because he didn’t seem to live there, what I did find was a man who taught me how to “see”.
I remember the day we walked through his garden. He pointed out the smells, sounds and touched everything and had me touch it. We were on an adventure through an amazing place. From the fuzz on green tomatoes, the smell of a hot radish to the sweet milk of sweet corn. Everything was amazing to him.
At breakfast he had looked out of the same farm house kitchen window for all of those years and always saw something interesting. How the leaves on the trees were predicting the weather, how the cows were standing or laying down in the pasture, how the insects were acting and what the birds were showing him.
Wesley had the spark in his aging eyes of a curious child, I wondered if he had learned this or was he just born that way. All I knew is that I wanted to see the world like he did.
Over the years I remembered Wesley and when I felt like I was missing something or bored with my surroundings I would focus on the things around me and try to see them like Wesley.
There were a few people in my life that impacted me profoundly, Wesley Hanna was one of them. I doubt he had a clue what he had taught me but perhaps he did.
(the picture is a stock Ohio farm picture not Wesley's farm)