Signs

Several years ago, okay maybe 15 years ago, I was taking part in the Coast The Coast MS-170 Charity Bike Ride, which would raise money for Multiple Sclerosis, from Monmouth University in Long Branch, NJ to Cape May, NJ. A two-day event, that takes place every May, that would lead up to 500, or more, cyclists 170 miles along the Jersey Shore and through the famed Pine Barons. It is a great event, a great ride and we would battle heat, traffic, rain and worst of all, ferocious headwinds.

Local chapters of the Harley Davidson Owners Group would assist and provide traffic control, support and guidance along the way.  Those wishing to participate as a motorcyclist just need to contact the MS Bike office and they will hook you up. For the motorcyclist, it can be terribly boring. Some riders would simply get an intersection or turn or spot along the route and be told to just sit there and point cyclists in the right direction.  Other riders would ride the route as ride marshals and provide assistance if cyclists needed it.  I have often thought of doing this ride on my Harley, but something about sitting still for 3, 4 or 5 hours didn't appeal to me.  Anyway... I digress....

On day two, we were somewhere around Ocean City along the ocean and I came to a traffic light. I stopped as I should. There was no one to be seen left or right. A car pulled up to the light and stopped next to me. The passenger in the car looked at me and said "You're not really going to wait until the light turns green are you?". I looked him and said "Well yes, I'm on a two wheeled vehicle that is supposed to obey the same rules as you, so I do." He just replied with a "Cool" he gave me a thumbs up as the light turned green and they sped off.

...and green..... and go.... and green.....

I was faced with a similar situation on my ride last night. The light was red, there was no one coming and a car pulled up next to me.  I had to make a left this time and the driver waved me on.  I just said, "I'll wait. I'm in no hurry". The light turned green and we both shoved off in the same direction. He more quickly than I because, well, I was in no hurry.

It occurred to me the there is a lot of signage that we are supposed to pay attention to while we are out there on or in our vehicles and we are also supposed to maintain control of said vehicle while doing so. How are we supposed to take all of those instructions in AND pay attention to what we are doing AND not plow into a cyclist, pedestrian, utility pole or store front. We should all be required to have a co-driver with us at all times to help us navigate through the jungle of signage we are faced with, even on our lowly journey to the convenience store for a slurpee.

Thus far my ride took me east towards the ocean with no wind to speak of but I knew better since I consulted my riding buddy, Wunderground Weather App.  After I made the left at the light and began my crossing of the bridge that was right there at that left turn.  I saw a sign and I thought, it really didn't say that did it?  I knew I was going to go over a similar bridge a mile or so up, so if I saw it again I'd take a picture.  I was headed north at this point and the tail wind was glorious, two mile later I had to head east across the next bridge. Sure enough, the same sign was there.

Two of these things do not belong there.

I thought to myself, is this something we really need to worry about? Or have a sign to advise reasonably intelligent people not to do? Just the notion that anyone would act out crabbing off of a bridge, that's just insane! Absolute madness. What has our world come to that any person would even remotely consider crabbing, or God forbid, Fish off of a bridge like this.  People who would even think of crabbing off this bridge should be incarcerated and flogged with wet spaghetti. And what of this "Loitering"? I'm not sure what they are getting at, but I suspect is has something to do with clowns, ladders and perhaps cats. But whatever it is... do not do it on this or the other bridge when traveling through Point Pleasant, NJ. With regard to jumping and diving... I say go right ahead. Set up a booth, charge a dollar per jump and have at it. Look, the worse that could happen is somebody jumps off the bridge and lands on the deck of a boat next to a cooler full of beer. What I thought was interesting is that this sign makes no mention of NOT tossing water balloons off the bridge at the boats passing underneath. There I say is an invitation to fair game.

...sigh....

My ride now takes me south. INTO a stiff headwind. Armed with the knowledge at the beginning of the ride which way the wind was blowing, I voluntarily opted to ride south. Knowing full well that I would have the tail wind pushing me home.  I have, on occasion, done the exact opposite and have lived to regret that decision.  Late afternoon or evening rides often grant me the joy of a beautiful sunset or close to it over the Barnegat Bay waterways. It also tells me that I shouldn't lollygag or I will be arriving home in the dark with no headlight and just my blinking tail light. Seeing this sight as I rode along the bay waters somewhat lessened the headwind that was battering me to a pulp. Those who ride know that we will tackle, with our best effort and last breath, the tallest climb we can find or are placed at the foot of. But we cringe at the thought of the slightest headwind. A headwind, unlike a climb, has the ability to triple your effort, decrease your cadence and suck the life out or your already lactic acid burning legs AND offer no reward. At least with a climb, the reward is the arrival and if you're lucky, a killer decent.

Yes, Jersey Shore Restrooms.  So when you come to the Jersey shore, you must use these little blue rooms. They are everywhere. We are so backwards here, we don't even have septic fields or sewage systems and every house has one of these blue rooms out in front beside the road. Restaurants.... dozens of these things line their parking lots. The Mexican food places are banned from the seashore communities for just this reason. There is the downside of strong winds and colder temperatures. Nothing like seeing a half dozen little blue rooms sliding down the road at or near the speed limit with a screaming occupant inside. Terrifying to some, but absolutely hilarious to the rest of us. In the winter months it's the freezing of the... the... uh...."stuff" and no one has figured out how to make these things heated without creating a toxic cloud that would emanate from it's vent stack. Plus there is the disturbing "Splat" that one has to be concerned with. This is why in the winter months many of the residence hi-tail it out of town and rent their homes to unsuspecting college kids who don't know any better.

Even the wind obeys the law

At this point I have reached the turning point of my ride and what do I get to enjoy? A blazing tailwind that has me flying northbound along through the beachy communities and storefronts.  This also means I am dodging those white to beige colored beach stones you see when you go to the beach. A bicycles small tires have the ability to pinch one of these stones and turn it into a deadly projectile capable of breaking windows and scaring the bejesus out of pedestrians and dogs. People duck and cover when they here the "pop" of a tire on a stone. That sound is immediately followed by the sound of a ricocheting stone off of cars, windows and poles. Some end with the sound "Ow".

Traveling North at a brisk pace, I am now racing the sun, which has just touched the surface of the bay. I'm 10 miles or so from home and I have about 30 minutes to do it in or dark happens. I'm pacing at 25 and weaving around stones, storm grates, slower beach bikes and pine cones like a drunken sailor. The miles tick away.  The sun has dipped lower and I'm on borrowed time. I focus my efforts on pedaling in circles because you know, circles are better than squares and.... well... circles are more efficient... and... I need something to focus on because I'm tired. In two miles I have to turn left and ride through a crosswind and I know that will slow me down. Plus I know that I also have to make another left and head south for one mile before I hit the 3 mile westbound home stretch.  I ache.

Just before my turn, I stopped to take this picture.  This image has been in front of me for most of my ride and it was all I could do to not look at it with scrutiny.  Who designed this? Who thought that this image best represented a cyclist? Did someone at the Department of Transportation look at this and say "Yeah, that's a cyclist. Paint it all over the roads"? If I look like that on my bike, shoot me. Has the person who approved this design never seen a cyclist? Or know what a bike actually looks like? Or better yet know that cyclists heads are actually attached to their bodies and they do have feet and hands?  This is a fine example of the failure of form and a vague attempt at function. Thank heavens for the arrow that was just beyond the.... the... whatever or I would have been lost as to which way to go.  All I can say for certain is that when you come to the Jersey shore and want to ride your bike, beware of the man who jumps through hoops with a bowl on his decapitated head.

I turned left and entered the crosswind and it wasn't as bad as I expected it to be.  Up over the canal bridge and with a quick cadence I make it to my left turn into the wind. For the next half mile the wind seemed to increase and the sun seemed to set faster. My circles became squares and I labored that half mile over the last little bridge.  I made the right turn onto the home stretch, 3 miles to go.  I texted my wife those words so she would know that is the word to get dinner on.  The trees sheltering the road lessened the crosswind but now I was getting a mixture of all of it. Headwind, tailwind and crosswinds hit me one after the other as I passed by side streets, openings in the trees and nice views of the backwater areas and last bits of daylight. The sun had set, I'm operating on ambient light now. Cars have their headlights on. I push harder. The summer concert at Windward Beach park is in full swing and the pedestrians, bicycle and car traffic increase as I near it, pass through it and get away from it. Less than a mile to go. Much darker than I would prefer. The last sign was my street sign and a welcome sight at that. I rode past my house on the cool-down but it would be a short one because.... it was dark now. Another sign that I should get off the road.

Oh and by the way, if you come to the Jersey Shore, you don't actually have to use those little blue rooms, we do have indoor plumbing.

Above the road... For fans of two wheels

I'm stupid.... at least that's what I tell myself when I find myself in the middle of something I probably shouldn't be doing. Or should have thought about before doing or when I agree to do something that most ordinary people with far better sense would never do.

In this particular case, it was a 60 mile bicycle ride. Well, 60.1 mile bike ride.  Yes, I split that hair.

A little background.
I'm now 57. A captive/resident of New Jersey. I'm an avid cyclist. I'm an avid motorcycle rider. I host the Motorcycle Men Podcast. And I am the lead singer in a John Mellencamp Tribute Band called "Human Wheels".  All of these things I enjoy and I get to share these things with the people in my life.

Moab Mountain Biking

At the Americade Motorcycle Rally

www.motorcyclemen.us

The Blue Mouse Ranch (93 acres)

www.humanwheels.net

I also have a house full of animals (3 dogs, 4 cats), my wife and I own a small farm in upstate New York. So as you can see, I'm busy and I got stuff to do. 

More importantly, I got stuff that I love to do. Ride my bicycle and ride my Harley.  

On my bicycles, both mountain and road, I average around 2000 miles a year and if not for full time employment, there would be far more.  On the Harley, I average around 10,000 miles a year and again, if not for full time employment, there would be more.

Just a short side note.  Motorcyclists will tell you that in order to ride the good roads you have to ride through the crap to get to them. Cyclists will also tell you that all roads suck and there is always a head wind regardless of what direction you are headed. Remember this.

Cyclists generally tell you they do it for either their fitness, because it's fun, it gets them out of the house and in the worse case they will tell you it's their "religion".  For me, it's the adventure.  Even if I ride the same roads or trails, each time it's a different adventure.

Motorcycle riders will tell you they do it for the cliche' "freedom", for the speed, it clears their heads, the comradery, the alone "Me" time or because it's better than a cage. For me, it's adventure.

In either case, whether on the mountain bike, road bike or Harley, it's about the adventure and the joy of being on two wheels. Unencumbered by the restrictions of 4 wheels, the whole roof, glass and seat-belt thing. I've got two wheels and I can pretty much go anywhere and more so, I can and will witness far more than the rest of the "traveling" masses.  

That is not to say that those traveling by car or bus or plane do not "see" things, they do. They just don't take part in what they see. Seeing a cow as you go by at 50 mph with the windows up is not the same as seeing and smelling a cow as you go by at 18 mph on your bicycle or at 40 mph on your motorcycle and then stopping to take a picture of said cow. We do that. We do that because we are participating in our surroundings and not just passing through them.

Yes, this is in New Jersey

On this aforementioned 60.1 mile bike ride, I saw stuff. Actual stuff and... stuff induced by delirium. Things that if I were in a car, I would have drove right past and not have seen or given a second thought and let alone a first thought.  So as I took a picture of some miniature horses, I thought "I should start a blog about all the weird crap I see on the road when I ride my bike and when I'm on the Harley". Why would I think that? Because I see a lot of weird crap out there that most do not believe.  I witness or experience things that grants me weird looks from my friends and family which then leads to me interjecting "No, really, I'm serious", which is followed immediately by the obligatory "Ahhhh, you're full of beans", finalized by the hand wave-off.  

I realized that what I need to go into these conversations with is; Evidence. No one believes words, barely pictures, but actual photos I took with my smartphone on my travels. Unaltered in any way, shape or form. "Here, I took this picture while I was riding".

That is why I elected to start this blog. "Days I Ride" is my very own..."OMG, you gotta see this" to the whole world. 

I came across the tiny horses at what would turn out to be the halfway point of my ride. Up until then I had not looked at my bike computer because I had it set to display only cadence and not miles.  I wanted to surprise myself and the only reason I did see my mileage (and I'm glad I did) was that I looked at my smartwatch (yes I'm a techy) and it said 31.6 miles.  Uh, wait... what?  Crap, I better head back.  Now a cyclist will generally NOT want to turn around and go back the way they came. A cyclist will want to do a "loop" because it will feel more like we have gone somewhere with a plan. Turning around going back the same way might be viewed as though we rode somewhere and gave up, turned around and came back.  Since I had been heading in a Northwesterly direction, I thought it best to head east to the ocean and then turn south to my home. Based on my current location, "East" was vague. Most of the roads headed northeast, north, south or back the way I came and that wasn't going to happen. My ride with a "plan" turned into a "Meander" as I zig-zagged to the coast in Monmouth County. I set my waypoint to be Manasquan and at the moment I was somewhere in Freehold Township. This was going to be a long ride.

Sod and Box farm

I passed a Sod Farm... who knew right? There are farms for growing Sod. I mean I've known for years but how many people know?  But anyway, as I was passing this farm, I see a box in the field and I wonder two things: How long has it been there and how long will it be there? Which of course led to follow up questions like: How did it get there and do the owners of the property know it's there?

While I stood there taking the picture of the box in the field, cars just whizzed by oblivious to the box in the field. And the whole time, not more than three feet away from me sat a lone sneaker laying on its side. A couple feet away from the sneaker was a half of a bungee cord and a foot away from that was a 4 inch rusty bolt.  Now I don't know what the chain of events were that led up to that combination of items on the side of the road, but somewhere there is a man with one shoe who is missing his cargo off his now falling apart vehicle.

Taking a break outside a little church

Convinced that the box in the field will be fine and eventually succumb to the elements or a Sod Farmers environment responsibility to recycling, I shoved off.  I was feeling pretty good, not riding along at Tour de France pace but I was comfortable and moving at a good clip. Seeing a road I had never been on, and consulting my GPS, I turned right and then decided to take a short break in the shade at a small church, 40 miles in. As I sat on the grass along their parking lot, drinking my smart water, eating an energy bar, I took my cycling shoes off to cool off now throbbing feet. As I sat there I observed a pair of very large scissors with red plastic handles, sitting open, in the middle of the driveway.  They were starting to rust, so I imagine they had been there for quite some time. Two thoughts; A. They could have and can puncture a tire easily. B. Nobody saw them sitting there or thought to pick them up? I find "B" rather unlikely and decided it was the result of a society gone lazy and adopting the "Not my job" mentality.  I walked over to them in my stocking feet, opened and closed them like you do a few times and put them down on the curb next to the walkway to the church door.  I suspect someone WILL see them now and hopefully bring them inside. Imagine my disappointment if I were to return to that church in a week or two and found they were still there.  Note to self: Bring a length of duct tape to tape scissors to door of church.  Moving on.

I only wish....

Many of these roads I have been riding are great if you are in the drive lane.  If you ride the white line along the edge or on the shoulder like I and most cyclist do, it's another story.  New Jersey's idea of  "Road Improvement" is a shovel full of hot asphalt dumped into a hole and then patted down with said shovel. So you can imagine that the presence of gravel and edge-of-road debris doesn't qualify for needed attention by any road department. So while I was dodging and weaving around the "road improvements" I spotted this 1956 Thunderbird for sale.  I love old cars, especially old T-birds (I owned a 1965 at one point). I got the impression it was moved out of storage (the barn next to it) a few weeks ago.  It had evidence of being outside and it hadn't looked like it moved for a while. Curious, I looked at the "For Sale" sign, which is beginning to fade. There was a phone number and another number, $29,500. Yeah, that's about right.  There were some farmers near that barn and I called out to them to ask the year.  They ignored me or pretended not to hear.  So after further investigation I determined it was indeed a '56.  45 miles.

Consulting the GPS map and my watch I determined it was best if I avoided the obvious route and took the side roads to bypass the worse of the improved roads. This led to some really nice shaded and scenic roadways as I got nearer my waypoint. I thought to myself that I must remember these roads for when I am on the Harley. Smooth tarmac and shaded lanes are a blessing for the motorcyclist who sits upon an Easy-Bake Oven. As I passed what used to be a tired old golf course I noted how it became the posh country club off the beaten path. You go people chasing that little white ball. And not more than 2 miles away I passed by a tired old airport that still operates but, is well past the time where it was beginning to show its age. The Monmouth Executive Airport has a title that gleams wonderful things and yet is in need of serious attention and revamping. A turd in a hot dog bun with all the trimmings is still a turd in a hot dog bun.

Not that Toys R Us guy

I headed east and crossed over Route 34 and knew that if I just went the way I would ordinarily go, I would be home in less than 10 miles.  I'm not that smart apparently. And before I could go any further I was blinded by the sight of a life sized multi-colored Giraffe at a small pitch and putt golf course.  I don't know why one would feel the need to do this or what its purpose is but I just thought it one of those oddities that brings me back to the days when things like this on roadsides was very common.  Be it a large ball of twine, a 40 foot cowboy or a giant rocking chair, I suppose the multi colored Giraffe has found it's place and will likely end up in that "Weird NJ" magazine.

A few questionable turns, several pothole leaps and Gatorade refill at a very questionable convenience store, I reached my waypoint in Manasquan. Now during this whole journey, I had a headwind while I was going Northwest, I had a head wind while I was heading east and now that I am headed south, you guessed it, I have a headwind. It is also at this point along my ride that I am starting to feel the ride.  I know that I am within 10 miles of home, I know what roads I have to take to make the route as short, but enjoyable as possible. But I am really "feeling" the ride at this point and my pace isn't as brisk as it was earlier.

I crossed the Manasquan River and saw three paddle boarders lazily making their way into the headwind. I thought "How cool" and then I thought "They must be tired" and I felt their ache through my own aching muscles.  

Through the center of Point Pleasant Beach, it was quiet. All the tourists, "Bennies" as we call them, were out of town and on their way home to the crowded areas of north Jersey, New York or parts west near Philly.  So I rode in the drivelane through town and the locals having a cup of coffee outside a little coffee shop.  From here it was 8 miles to home.

Begin the home stretch

Bungee cords. I made a decision to start collecting all the bungee cords I see on the side of the road when I ride.  I figure in 3 or 4 years I will be able to open the worlds largest Bungee Cord store.  Theoretically, I could be a millionaire just off of  the sale of these lost and forgotten rubber stretchy things. I laugh at the thought of someone driving their car and out of nowhere a bungee chord strikes their windshield and slowly slips off like a dead snake. I chucked over that for a few miles.  Then I came to this bridge on Beaver Dam Road on the border of Point Pleasant and Brick. It is at this point I say to myself, "Three miles to go, the home stretch".  

Think of nothing. Now from that nothing subtract more nothing.  That is what I had left in me to complete this adventure. However not all is hopeless. Oddly enough, the headwind that had been plaguing me the entire ride miraculously turned into a tail wind.  I settled into a methodical rhythm of circles. Yes, pedal in circles, try it. You'll notice the difference.  Eventually, I reached my street and let out the biggest sigh and road past my house. It's a thing. You don't just pull into your driveway, get off the bike and "Honey I'm home".  You don't do that. You ride past, shut off all the data gathering devices, gear down and spin it off. Consume the last few drops of whatever liquid you have left, then and only then can you turn into your driveway and dismount. 

I walked in the house with my bike and as I stepped into the cool air conditioning I was greeted by my 3 dogs. Gypsy always brings us something when we come in, be it a hair tie, piece of paper, sock or, in this case, a squeaky toy. Sadie, the Sheltie and Roxie, the big galoot, were there as well just happy to see me. I took the toy from Gypsy, scratched her head and looked at the toy.  I haven't seen one of these on one of my rides. But, you never know.  I'm sure that somewhere out there is a lonely abandoned squeaky toy waiting to be discovered by some wayward cyclist or motorcycle rider like me.

I guess I'll find out. Remain above the road.