THE KANSAS WIND

Many are the woebegone Trans-Amers who complain of the wind in Kansas.

Hurricane warning flags...

It blows them off the road.  It blows them onto the road.  The trucks make it worse.  The trucks make it better.  Its always a headwind.  They could only manage 4 miles per hour into the wind.  They hate the wind. Its like riding uphill all the way across the state.  I was never so glad to leave a state for the remainder of the trip.  Yaddah, yaddah, yaddah...

Kansas warning flag...

As my Dad used to say of the wind, "Yeah, there was a barb wire fence in Oklahoma to break it up, but it blew down last year."

My immediate family's view of the wind is no different than the Trans-Amers whose blogs I've read.

Susan, who most of my followers are familiar with, takes a view of the wind markedly similar to that of hills.  They both are to be avoided whenever possible.  Since her failing in this regard has been discussed previously, we won't bore the reader with additional details.

Susan can ride today flag...

My daughter Kelsy, recently married BTW, has a viewpoint similar to that of her mother.  Though possessed of a bit more grit.  Speaking of which - grit , that is - the wind has provided considerable “story fodder” over the years.  One example: Several years ago I was riding BAK with Susan (on the tandem) and Kelsy on her single bike.  We were someplace out West where cows and feed lots dominate and the forecast for the following day was for - what else - wind.

Now I am as familiar with the wind as are they, but view it as something to be managed rather than suffered.  The route the next day called for a jaunt to the North of about 15 miles followed by something like another 60-70 miles pretty much straight East.  In my view the forecast couldn't have been better.  This because the wind was predicted to be out of the South at about 20-25 mph until 0630, when it would shift to the West at roughly the same speed.  PERFECT.  Get up early, hit the road by 0545-0600 and enjoy a tailwind as we're Northbound.  Then make the turn to the East at about the same time the wind shifted around to come out of the West.  We could enjoy a tailwind all day - provided the weather guys were accurate.  Concerning which, let me digress for a moment to vent my spleen about weather guys everywhere...

Seldom have I encountered a profession in which one could be right maybe (maybe!) half the time and remain employed, let alone smile about it as one dissembles concerning the following day's prediction.  If the guys where I work managed to arrest the right people only half the time, well - suffice it to say that I'd spend a lot more time talking to lawyers.

But back to the story at hand.  Despite my suggestions to the contrary, my two dilettantes  refused to listen to reason and slept in that morning.  If you've been on an organized ride with 800 plus people sleeping in a gymnasium you know that this is an accomplishment in its own right.  I mean really, the cacophony of noises produced by that many human bodies at night in a gymnasium is rivaled only by a pod of dolphins in pursuit of prey (plenty of chattering and venting) - and a good deal smellier.  But apparently  those air mattresses are quite the slumber inducing proposition, because despite my entreaties we didn't get out the door on time.  The net result of this slothful approach on the part of my compatriots was that the princesses and I had to ride in a 20-25 mph cross wind for the first 15 miles.  This, of course, generated the anticipated result; the royal party whined and carped about the wind incessantly.  Oh - I may have failed to inform the reader that the wind speeds I mentioned previously were the straight winds with gusts in the range of 30-35.  My apologies.  Regardless, at this point I viewed the wind as a blessing - at least it masked the whining and carping.

Now a tandem is nothing if not a rather large sail in crosswinds. And my daughter on her own bike, weighing whatever it is that high school girls weigh - which is considerably less than the good Lord can justify when compared to her parents - had her own difficulties maintaining a straight line.  I reminded them both that I had suggested an alternative plan - but I only reminded them once.  Neither was in a mood to cotton anything resembling "I told you so."  So I maintained an enforced silence.  But I was THINKING "I told you so."

Comes now the first feed lot - and much to our misfortune it was on the upwind side of the road.  For those of you who ride where wind isn't a big deal, or where there are no feed lots - are there such places? - this means that all the dust from the feedlot was blowing right across the road.  This was some serious wind, wind which stirred a quantity of feed lot dust sufficient to obscure the head lights of oncoming vehicles until they got rather close.  As we continued thru the cloud I could hear my daughter occasionally spitting behind Susan and I on the tandem.  I chose not to inquire as I had already suffered the wrath of the X chromosome.

When we came out the far side of the feedlot dust cloud, which coincidentally was right at the turn to the East (a tailwind - thank God), Kelsy continued to spit.  Given that we could now carry on a conversation without shouting, I inquired as to the reason for her salivary distress.  She replied that because of the dust cloud, she had a lot of grit in her mouth.  Hmmm - reasonable, but...  Having borne the burden of enforced silence as long as my Y chromosome permitted , I politely informed her that as we has just passed thru a feedlot dust cloud, what she was spitting out wasn't grit; but it certainly rhymed with grit.  After a (very) brief pause to reflect, this occasioned (much) more spitting and concomitant complaining about the wind.

The moral of the story here is, "Manage the wind and you won't spit grit."

The alternative morale of the story is, “Breathe thru your nose when the grit hits the fan.”

Disclaimer:  Susan (who reviews my missives before posting) says I have the story wrong and that my assessment has some mild inaccuracies.  I'm pretty sure that was the term she used.  Something to do with the timing of the wind change, or the wind speed.  But she does admit to sleeping in that day.  Who knows?  Regardless, in her view this makes all the difference in the world.  I told her I had noted her objections and would give them the attention they deserve, hence this post script.  For her version of the event, please see her blog.  Oh wait - she doesn't have one...

I believe it was Indiana Congressman Charles Brownson who said, "I never quarrel with a man who buys ink by the barrel."

WHY ARE YOU RIDING ACROSS THE COUNTRY? - OR, FUNERALS ARE BORING...

Editor's note: If you're here for the pictures - go to the end.  Tawdry of you, but hey, its your life.  If you're  "...only looking at the blog for the interesting articles"  please continue...

As preparation for the ride continues (and my discussions of the ride expand) people have occasionally inquired, "What made you decide to do it?" or "What is your motivation?".  Having read any number of blogs from others who have done the same thing, I'm given to understand that these questions are pretty typical.  The average sofa bound American can't fathom riding a bike even a few miles, let alone repeat days of 60+ miles.  BTW - Thanks for that insight Nichole.  She's my Administrative Assistant.  Until discussing The Thin Blue Ride with her, I'd no idea there existed people of this ilk - not that she's "ilky".  But back to the subject at hand...  At least for me, there are many answers to this question.  There is no single motivator.  Sure, I'll see sights and meet people I never would have encountered had I not gone on the trip - and that will no doubt be enjoyable.  But I'd be lying if I denied that at least some of the motivation has to do with bragging rights and some with funerals...

I believe I mentioned in an earlier post that several cycling friends and I had once ridden across the state of Kansas from South to North in a day.  When I pitched the idea to Susan, her immediate reaction was denial.  Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't the typical "You’ve got to be kidding me" internal disbelief kinda denial that has become her staple when responding to my much maligned but utterly brilliant ideas.  We're talking outright denial here - "No you're not."   This was more like the -

It’s-not-safe-and-might-be-so-physically-strenuous-as-to-be-dangerous

 - kinda denial.  Hey - she's little, but she's feisty.

But being nothing if not a planner, at least when it suits me, I'd already considered this objection and as it turns out (what a coincidence) one of the guys going along was an ER Doctor.  I try to never start shooting my ducks till I have them all lined up in a row, eh?  Now how on earth could anything so simple as riding a bicycle be dangerous with an ER Doc along, I argued?  This did little to assuage my bride's doubts, but the logic was inescapable and she eventually relented.  (As a side note, I'm prety sure the Latin root for "relented" has something to do with being "worn down".)  Though she steadfastly refused to go along, "Why would I want to see all that misery?”   

Misery?!  Bah - I responded, what's an IV between friends?  After all, I'd already ridden across the State on BAK with Matt (this would be the Doc mentioned previously) on two occasions.  So - the planning commenced and when the time/forecast proved favorable, off we went.  On the day of the ride we pounced on the Pizza Hut buffet in Scott City after about 110 miles, wiped down and changed kits in the bathroom, oiled the chains up,and hit the road again.  The ride went off without a hitch - well, except for the cramps in the last 15 miles.  A guy can apparently only drink so much Gatorade...  Anyway - all seven of us finished the ride that day.  And, I might add, no tubes or needles proved necessary.

The point here is this, how many people do you know who can say they've ridden their bike across the state (pick any state) in a day?  It would suck to be a Texan (well just generally, but specifically in this instance - apologies to Texans everywhere.) because of the distances involved.  But Oklahoma?  What's that skinny part of the state - maybe 30 miles?  I ride that far for pancakes!  Who cares about that?   Kansas was the perfect state: 229 miles.

So - whether its riding across Kansas on BAK eight times (so far), South Dakota, The Thin Blue Ride, Crossing Kansas in a day; in my view lives worth living are remembered for exceptional reasons.  It’s been my mantra for some time now that priorities in life matter and that the appropriate sequence is: faith, family, friends, and then work.  What with retirement looming, work gets replaced with hobbies.  Having some fun while at it can't hurt - but it does cause mild irritation amongst the safety conscious.

The point here is this, people often times are looking for things to say about the dearly departed at funerals.  It’s awkward.  I've decided that my mission in life is to make my funeral easy on the mourners.  They can feel free to use the adjective of their choice in referencing me (Who am I kidding - they already do.) but at least they'll have something to talk about.  Hopefully, most sentences at the funeral will start with, "Do you remember when  he...?"  I’ve observed at some funerals that the family will have a bunch of pics or a slideshow of the deceased.  I think I’ll prepare mine ahead of time.  Check below for a short preview...

This one is Susan and I at an MS150 SAG.  We had a good time, as you can see.

Other than the cross-state-in-a-day ride, this one was a three day excursion with friends.  Note: this is not BAK - which goes West to East.  Having visited Nebraska and lived nearby for my entire adult life, I feel comfortable saying that that "good life" stuff is open to debate, but apparently Arbor Day is the real deal.

This is a friend from work and me.  I'm in blue.  The friend is Jeff Hooper, the newly installed Chief of Police in Hutchinson, Kansas. I believe the temperature that day was -3 degrees.  Low temperatures apparently make ladies...cranky.  I only say this because Susan thought I was an idiot that day.  Clearly the temperature got to her.

If you've read my earlier posts you know I'm a Police Chief in Manhattan, KS.  This pic was taken during the initial week long training all our bike guys go thru before being set free on a bike.  I'm the third from the left.  and yes - I could keep up.  Good Lord, they're all so young they don't even know their knees hurt - yet...

Vail Pass on the Copper Triangle.  About 5 miles to go on an 85 mile day.  Interestingly, Vail Pass was a Category 1 climb (so I hear) from this side, but I thought the opening climb of the day was more difficult.  Shorter, but a little steeper.  My goal was 5 hours - missed it by about 15 seconds.  Not bad for a flat lander.

This iguana kissed me on a trip to Cozumel and totally embarrassed Susan who was taking a pic of me at the time.

I snuck upon this free range pig in Lancester County, PA on an anniversary ride with Susan on the tandem.  Pennsylvania pigs are both slower and dumber than those my Dad raised on the farm.  This one was mildly irritated with me and I had to run like mad...

I believe that I've mentioned my kissing habit in a previous post, and that I'm from Manhattan, KS - home of the Kansas State Wildcats.  On a day trip to Lawrence, this Jayhawk (In-State rivals) snuck up on me...

Ah yes - not me but one of my favorites.  I'll tell two versions of this pic and maybe reveal the truth after a poll in a later post.  Version 1:  Susan and I were on a tandem ride on our 33rd anniversary when we were sideswiped from behind by an 80+ year old lady driving home after visiting her husband's grave on Memorial Day.  This is the trooper who worked the accident.  Version 2:  The Trooper misinterpreted Susan's wave when he passed us while we were on a ride and Susan is proving that she really does have 5 fingers.  Note the cool jersey.

Until next time...

REACTIONS TO THE THIN BLUERIDE - AND, “HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM.”

As regular readers know, Susan and I have two children - Keith and Kelsy.  When the kids were young we regularly took them skiing in Summit County, Colorado - home of Hoosier Pass, the highest point on the Trans-Am.

When we went skiing, there invariably existed on every run a point at which the slope immediately below was not visible. OK, not on every run - but at least on the fun ones.  Upon reaching this point, the family split into two separate camps.  There were those among us who carefully skied up to the edge of the precipice, peered over, and planned the most efficient (read safest) route to the next potential hazard. Conversely,  there were those whose approach was to figure all that stuff out whilst airborne after going over the precipice.  Susan and Keith subscribed to the former philosophy, Kelsy and I to the later.

What has this to do with reactions to The Thin Blue Ride, you ask?  This...

As I’ve discussed the ride with friends, family, people from work, and sometimes with people I know only peripherally but who have heard of the ride; reactions seem to split along the same two lines as did the family on those long ago ski trips.  The two camps will be reviewed briefly below.  For the purpose of clarity, we shall refer to them as the “What if...” and the, “We’ll figure it out...” camps and illustrate their respective views of The Thin Blue Ride with questions typical of each camp.  My response follows each question.  Without further ado:

WHAT IF

Who will you call if you need help?  Answer: It depends on what we need help doing.

How will I know (fill in the blank) you’re OK, where you are, if you’re alive, etc.  Answer: If the blog sports no new entries for a week or two at any point following the start of the ride, assume the worst and make a donation to the RCPD Scholarship Fund on my behalf.  If you’re family, follow my Cousin Deb Neiermeier on Facebook - she has assumed the mantle of “Official family news hound.”

Is your will current?  Along with it’s variant: Where do you keep your will so we can find it “should the need arise”?  (Only two people are really interested in this question - you do the math.).  Answer:  It will be by the time we leave.  And it’s variant: Susan and I plan on having a family meeting before departure to hand over the keys to the kingdom.

What will you do if the RV breaks down?  Answer:  Fix it, just like when anyone’s car breaks down.  I’m pretty sure mechanics have a relatively expansive natural habitat.

WE’LL FIGURE IT OUT

What will be the best part of the trip?  Answer: Spending time with Susan. I think I’ve mentioned previously that she’s my best friend, and it’s true.  We genuinely like hanging out together.  God bless the woman, I don’t know what’s wrong with her - but to date it’s been to my advantage.  Disclaimer: I’ve presumed to answer all other questions on behalf of both Susan and I.  For her answer to this one, you’ll just have to ask when you see her. For my part, I’m just happy she is possessed of the aforementioned patience of Job.  Interestingly, this seems to be a characteristic typical of many of my friends.  Curious that they all seem to have this in common...  What are the odds?

AND, “HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM.”

This was as far as I’d gotten thinking about this post whence came September 18 and a conspiracy by the forces of “What If” the rough equivalent of which haven’t manifested since the Kennedy assassination.  Specifically, I’d just glimpsed a man on a nearby grassy knoll and was riding merrily along at probably 20 mph, sadly on my favorite bike.  I was on a route I’d ridden hundreds of times (note the sense of foreboding - pay attention to that) when my bike and a 2005 Dodge mini-van entered into a disagreement on principle.  My bike believed it had the right-of-way over the mini-van, which entered the road from a private drive and turned directly into the bike’s path.

Turns out my bike was right on principle.  The Trooper who worked the crash agreed whole heartedly.  The crash investigation also revealed that both the Trooper and my bike had missed that day in physics class when mass and velocity were discussed.  This doesn’t surprise me on the part of the Trooper, but I’d come to expect more from my bike.    It also turns out that the disagreement was decided not on principle, but on physics.  Ah... would that my bike had consulted me on this matter before arriving in  the same space and at the same time as the mini-van.  But such was not to be.  This particular bike has always been a dissolute sort possessed of a mind of its own.

This rather rude introduction to physics on the part of the mini-van (A misnomer, by the way - it seemed plenty big to me) resulted in the aforementioned, if benighted, bike being knocked sideways out from under me.  This occasioned another rather rude introduction - this time between the pavement, playing its role as the immovable object, and my head/right shoulder - playing their role as the irresistible force.  The immovable object won and I shortly found myself sliding down the pavement on my head (helmet) and right shoulder.  I quite distinctly recall thinking, “This can’t possibly be good” before the pain held sway, obscuring further intelligent thought for a bit.

I won’t go into a great amount of detail concerning either the crash or post crash issues due to (what else) possible legal ramifications surrounding the matter.  Don’t get me wrong, some of my best friends are lawyers.  Well, OK - I know some lawyers who seem friendly.  Sigh - OK - I know one lawyer who claims he once had a friend - until they had a falling out... he sued the guy.  Lawyers and their concerns aside, I feel comfortable that the following assertion will be universally understood by riders and non-riders alike: road rash and concussions suck.  I will however, provide a few pics of the aftermath.  Spolier alert - depending on your "gross" tolerance, the last pic may not be for faint of heart.  As road rash goes, I've seen worse, but those with weaker constitutions may not be so discriminating in their assessment...

Always - ALWAYS wear a helmet.  This one is compressed between 1/4 to 1/2 inch in places and the exterior plastic shell is ground away in spots.

This pic shows some (not all) of the fractures to the foam that comprises the inner shell of the helmet.  The section right by the strap was just above my right temple at the time and was nearly separated from the helmet.

I tell Susan that I now have a ready made excuse for nearly everything from being forgetful to erratic behavior.

One word, "Ouch."  Three days post collision.  The arm was as bad or worse but as graphics go, this will suffice.

THE TRAILER

This...

... is the trailer.  You may immediately notice the most unusual feature - it has no tongue.  That's because it doesn't attach to a ball as is the case with most trailers.  Instead, it is rigidly affixed to the receiver on the RV by means of a rather large, heavy and impressive bracket.  I found it on-line while searching for something Susan would feel comfortable with behind the RV.  Forgive me, I should rephrase.  Something Susan would feel less uncomfortable with.  When we hatched this plot and decided that a scooter would be necessary to out-run bison on this adventure, it quickly became apparent that a regular trailer just wouldn't do.  I first learned of Susan's incompatibility with conventional trailers when she proclaimed, "Listen Buddy (There's that pet name again, curious.) there's no way I'm pulling a trailer behind that monstrosity.  I'm uncomfortable enough just learning to drive it and there is no way I'll ever back it up with a trailer on it, so figure out something else."  At this point she had not yet commenced her forays to the local truck stop to learn how to drive the "monstrosity" - see my previous post on this very subject. That failing aside, her position seemed relatively succinct - even to me.  Which Susan says is saying a lot.

So, having learned much about bison while researching scooters, back to the internet I went.  In short order, I discovered:

Swivelwheel.com

This thing is ingenious.  It eliminates the possibility of "kinking" the trailer against the back of the RV when backing.  It does so because: 1) it is rigidly affixed to the receiver as previously mentioned, and 2) the wheel swivels like the front caster on a shopping cart - albeit a very large shopping cart.

As to the load out scheme...

...it will be markedly similar to what you see above.  The "Scooter" (Susan insists that I at least occasionally use quotations thus making clear her insistence that its really a motorcycle.) sits pretty much in the middle with the bikes held in place with fork clamps on either side.  While the tandem is loaded in the photo above, it will be staying home for the duration of The Thin Blue Ride and Susan's bike will go in its place.  Tho I've not attempted it yet, I'm 90% certain the Sequoia will sit opposite the Tarmac, which is between the Scooter and the back of the RV - you'll be able to see it if you enlarge the pic.

One of Susan's brothers insists that the entire contraption falls short of being road worthy and is apparently convinced that it will lead to...  well, at this point all I can say is "something bad".  My words, not his.  This despite the fact that we hauled it to South Dakota loaded with bikes to ride RASDAK.  He seems to have difficulty elucidating the particulars of the the disaster careening our way like the infamous hounds of war, but is clear in his insistence that it will be tied to the trailer.  This may merit discussion in a future post, which I'm sure will be enlightening.  More to follow... 

BIKES AND GEAR

I've read a lot of blogs by people who chronicled their Trans-Am rides @ Crazy Guy On A Bike (CGOAB) over the years.  First, let me say thanks to CGOAB - that there is someone around willing to put in the work to make that site available is great.  Sort of a one stop shop for anything touring related.  Who knew, for example, that there are people without jobs who just ride around the world to see what they can see.  I'm a bit more conservative than that...

Anyway, one of the things I quickly took note of is that there apparently exist among us a subculture of riders interested in what bikes/gear others used for their trip.  This is laudable, I suppose, in the sense that one wouldn't want to be forced to figure out on one's own that schlepping a 20 pound tent across the country is inversely proportional to one's chances of successfully completing the trip.  Seems self evident to me, but hey - its a big world out there filled of all sorts of interesting people.

Some of the authors whose blogs I've reviewed devolve their presentations into discussions of such exciting subjects as gear ratios, or (even worse) gear inches.  Have I failed to mention the relative merits of Ortliebs vs - well, any other sort of pannier?  And don't even get me started on the whole pannier/trailer issue.  Yowza!  I had no idea - at least not until I'd read the blogs.

If you're looking for that sort of analysis here, I hate to disappoint.  And a picture being worth a thousand words, I present - the reason I won't detail camping/cooking/clothing options...

This would be the previously mentioned RV that Susan shall be driving - maybe thru the mountains - that part still unnerves her.  We can haul plenty.

I also feel it necessary to mention that some of the blogs I read revealed that their respective authors were unable to shower for days and (further horror) were forced to wear the same clothing until they could manage to find a place to wash it.  There exists in these blogs an undercurrent of pride in hardships suffered in pursuit of the elusive Trans-Am Valhalla.  It must be a Zen sorta thing.  I bear no such lofty, if in my estimation misguided, ambitions.  A shower and an (almost) real bed will be fine with me.  I'm too old and grouchy to sleep on the ground anyway...  Just ask around.  I'm pretty sure word has gotten out.

As to bikes, I can save a couple thousand more words with, what else, a couple more pictures.  Below is a picture of the Tarmac I mentioned in a previous post.  The only thing original to the bike is the frame.  I love this bike.  Its the most comfortable bike I own. I'm particularly pleased with the paint job - which was done by Jack Kane Bikes in Jacksonville, North Carolina.  I gave them nothing more than a color scheme and a request that they do something that would make me happy.  After I got it back I liked it so much I told em I'd mention them whenever I got the chance.  Great people to work with.

Jack Kane Custom Racing Bicycles

They even put a PowerCat sticker on the seat post for me.  Manhattan, KS?  Kansas State University?  Go CATS!

This (below) is the Sequoia.  As is the case with the Tarmac, most of the original components have been swapped out.  Original remnants include the frame and handlebars.  I might add that, other than the obviously more relaxed geometry of the Sequioa, the distinction between the two is that the Sequoia has a compact chain ring while the Tarmac runs a standard 53/39.  Oh - the last upgrade planned for the Sequoia is a new set of wheels.  The ones on it now are a mix.  One originally came from the Tarmac and the other - well, I can't recall.  The "I can't recall" wheel probably has in excess of 15k miles on it now.  Time for a change.  I'll take em both along as spares - refer to the previous pic of the RV.

OMG - I just did it!  NOOOOOOO!!  #bikebabble  Plus, I sound like an 80s (90s? Who knows?) teenager with the whole OMG thing.  That's it, I'm done being hip.  No more for me.

Did I mention that I live in Kansas?  Yes Dorothy, I believe I did - standard chain ring.  Did I mention that I've ridden in Colorado?  Yes Dorothy, I believe I did - compact chain ring.  While I can use either bike (and have) in either location, two bikes also gives me a back-up should one of the pair suffer the vagaries of the road and succumb to something like, oh... being run over by an RV.  Which, to be perfectly clear, would be my fault as I tend to lean them up against the RV when we're on camping trips.  Disclaimer - it won't be my fault if I'm riding it when the RV runs over it.  So, if you're the cop investigating my untimely demise by RV I'm not gonna point fingers, but well...check the insurance policies.

This...

...is Susan's bike.  We'll be taking it along as well.  Unlike my bikes, this model comes with a governor which serves to limit its top speed to 18 mph.  Seriously.  When she and I go out for rides and encounter a hill it portends two things.  The ritual begins with the following statement, "I hate hills."  While I can certainly sympathize, having been put upon by my fair share of hills over the years, hills and I have since come to an understanding.  Susan and hills are still working on their relationship.  I'm pretty sure she's actually a Flat Earther...  

The second is that on the down slope, the brakes on Susan's bike inexplicably activate at 18 mph.  Now understand that Susan has no bike computer.  However, at 18 mph those brake pads hit the rim with the zeal of the recently religiously converted.  This is amazing to me - I've no idea how the bike knows its going that fast and can regulate Susan's speed so precisely.  This likely warrants a retirement trip to the Specialized brake factory to inquire further as time permits.  Oh - the plan is that on days when she wants, Susan can park the RV and ride out to meet me inbound and we can doodle the remaining miles to home base.  Sounds fun, so long as we don't go over 18 mph.

(Disclaimer - In all fairness to Susan she has on two occasions been on the tandem with me when we've reached some pretty impressive speeds.  Tho interestingly, she was nowhere near a brake lever...  Our top speed is 59.9.  I won't go into the details, but it involved a big tailwind and a big downhill.  She claims she was praying - which is apparently her default mode when encountering something unbelievably fun.  All I could hear over our tandem talk was, "Please God, Please God..."  I thought she was soliciting The Maker's assistance to go faster.  Hey - he walked on water.  I suppose he could have eked out a mile or two per hour more had he seen it fitting to do so.  I mean - he gave us the hill and the tailwind, after all.  Alas  it was only when we had slowed to Warp 4, that I learned I had misunderstood her entreaties.) 

And now for the final "bike" going along on this trip.  This is a 2003 Suzuki Burgman 650.  No - its not a motorcycle.  Yes - its a scooter.  It was actually Susan's idea.  What can I say, she thinks big.  OK, I exaggerate.  While the idea was originally hers, it grew a bit.  She wanted something she could run errands on and generally get about with whilst I was still merrily peddling on my daily jaunt across the country.  We even test drove a 125cc scooter in the parking lot of a local stadium.  Then I watched Youtube videos of people riding thru Yellowstone...

Did you know that Yellowstone is on the Trans-Am route?  Did you know there are bison in Yellowstone?

There are Bison in Yellowstone.  Big ones.  Ornery ones. I watched a video of a guy (in this case the term "guy" being synonymous with "idiot") in a car who honked at an ornery one.  This ornery bison had the temerity to rip the bumper off the guy's car.  Now, I myself am originally a farm boy - I grew up around animals.  I've never been near a bison, but I can assure you that honking at one would be last on my list of things to do on any given day.  Particularly if he were standing there minding his own business - even if it did happen that he occasioned to do so in the middle of the road.

How does this factor into a scooter purchase, you might ask?  When I broached the bison subject with Susan (who wanted a small scooter) I assured her that I wasn't particularly concerned with whether the bison (which can run at speeds of up to 35 mph - God bless the Internet) might be able to catch up to us on a 125cc scooter.  I'm pretty sure the motors in those scooters are the same ones used in sewing machines.  Completely reliable and they zing right along.  I've every confidence that when used in a scooter, this sewing machine motor would be more than capable of delaying the bison's eventual overtaking of any scooter thusly powered.  I assured my lovely bride that I was perfectly comfortable with this eventuality.  And despite the bison issue, Susan wasn't worried - until I reminded her that the bison would likely overtake us from the rear - and that she would be sitting on the back.  Did I mention that I showed her the video of the bison ripping the bumper off a car?  The demise of the "small" scooter as an option was thus assured.

OK - there was also the fact that we eventually figured out that if she were going to run errands while I was still on the road, she'd have to unload it down a ramp from the trailer by herself.  Her view of unloading the scooter from a trailer is markedly similar to that of driving an RV thru the mountains.  The opportunity for disaster apparently being endless, she demurred.  Mountains being taller than our trailer, the issue is clearly NOT one of height. Curious.  But - Strike two.  And then there was the fact that we plan to tour some national parks on the scooter as we wend our way across the country.  Kinda hard to do that on a 125cc scooter unless we want to recreate that scene from Dumb and Dumber.  Strike three.  This baby can cruise at 80 on the Interstate.  Don't ask me how I know this - at least not with Susan standing beside me.  She was on the back.

In the relatively near future I'll do a brief post on the trailer and the loadout scheme.  The trailer alone will be worth the reading.  I'd never seen anything like it before buying one for The Thin Blue Ride.  "What's the deal with the trailer?", you ask?  Just have to read the "Trailer" post to find out...

RETIREMENT

As promised, the much anticipated “Retirement” post.

As of now I’m a 58 year old guy with 39 years of law enforcement under my belt.  See...

I did a three year stint as a Military Policeman from 1979-1981, which was followed by 36 years working for the Riley County Police Department in Manhattan, Ks. - the last 11 as Director. That my belt is only moderately larger than when I commenced the profession is mostly a result avoiding as many donuts as possible over the course of my career - which means I still ate too many.  Seriously - people are always bringing those blasted things to the PD.  They're usually, ah...well received.  Yes - news flash - cops and donuts go together like firefighters and naps - with all due deference to my firefighter friends.  Don’t get me wrong, I love me some firefighters, who wouldn’t what with all those kitties they save?  Seriously, I saw this when I got to work this morning...

Manhattan Fire Department Saves Kitties - sigh...

We cops are just a bit jealous of their inherent advantage.

911 phone rings...

“Fire guys, what can we do for ya?”

“Help! My house is on fire!”

“Great, I’ll wake the guys up and we’ll be right over.”

Motorist hears siren and sees flashing lights in rear view mirror...

“Good afternoon ma’am.  The reason I pulled you over is because you were going warp 10 in a warp 1 zone.”

I think we all know who comes outta that looking like the good guy.

As I draft this post, I’m still gainfully employed, and plan to remain so until December 31 which will be my last official day at work.  And since I’ve now let the proverbial cat out of the bag concerning my chosen profession...

I gotta say that I’m as aware as anyone of the hit policing has taken over the past several years.  Please know this; not every police Department is Ferguson or Baltimore.  During my entire career, no Officer with the Department shot and killed anyone - in 36 years.  I myself pointed a gun at only two people.  I shot neither, though I was prepared to do so if I had to.  Thank God I didn’t have to.  Years later I ran into one of these two guys during a marriage seminar at a small church in Topeka, Ks.  The guy (genuinely) found God in prison and he’d turned things around after he got out.  He had a daughter the same age as mine. When his wife thanked me for not shooting him, we both got emotional.

I can recite at least three times during my tenure as Director that Officers would have been justified in shooting armed individuals, but didn’t.  And one occasion when one of our guys was shot in the leg as he responded to a domestic disturbance - by a guy he rode the bus to school with as a kid, no less.  Thankfully, He survived and is back at work.  So, just know that the cops I work with are good hearted people who genuinely want to help.  Do we need to improve as a profession? Yup.  Do Doctors need to improve as a profession? Yup.  We spend a lot of time figuring out how to train and equip Officers in order to minimize the chance of ever having to do the unthinkable.

Ah - almost forgot - the logo.

I’d love to take the credit for it, but other than providing her some minimal input, a young lady at work came up with it.  (Thanks Hali.)  She's a generally agreeable sort - even if she does eat too many vegetables.  I've been encouraging her to cut back for the sake of vegetables everywhere.

Since policing is a bit of a lightening rod nationally, I debated what to do with the logo.  I wanted something unique, but hmmm???  I finally decided ya know what?  I’m proud of my service and that of the people I worked with over the years, hence the title of the blog and the flag.  I hope no one finds that to be offensive - but if so, I guess that’s a personal choice.  It’s getting more difficult to avoid offending sensibilities every day...

So here's what it means to me.  You've probably noted the Trans-Am route marked in Blue across the US and that the border is a bike chain.  I think the symbolism there is self evident so I won't bore you with additional thoughts.  I'm particularly fond of the "D" in "Ride" being a chain ring.  That part I'll take credit for.  The Title "The Thin Blue Ride" is a takeoff of the "Thin Red Line" which was originally a military reference.

The term "Thin Red Line" refers to a formation of the 93rd Highland Regiment of the British Army at the Battle of Balaclava in 1854, in which the Highlanders stood their ground against a Russian cavalry charge.

 Its adaptation to policing is somewhat clouded, but has apparently been around since maybe the 1950s when it came in use to describe the Police as the Thin Blue Line between order and chaos in a society.  Substitute "Ride" for "Line" and wa-la...  What have ya got if not a catchy phrase?

And just so ya know, this is the only post which will address anything remotely political.  I just felt kinda like it was unavoidable after mentioning my job.  I'll leave you with one final pic...

The previously mentioned tandem which Susan and I ride.  Pics of the bikes I'll use on The Thin Blue Ride will follow in another post.

INTRODUCTION

Where to begin?

It was a dark and stormy night...  (Snoopy).  No.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...  (Dickens).  No.

In the beginning...  (God). No, no, no.

It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them...  (Hemingway). Yup, that will do to get me started.

So, here’s the deal.  In the fall of 2005 my son started college attending Kansas State University in Manhattan, Kansas.  Disclaimer, we’re locals.  He and his sister were raised in Manhattan.  As he loaded his car to take the last of his worldly possessions to his new dorm room, the only thing left was the used Bianchi Brava he’d bought on-line just that summer.  “Dad, if you’ll ride my bike to the dorm and help me unload the car, I’ll give you a ride back to the house.”  These, of course, are the offers a Father can’t refuse - so, off we went.  Mind you, I’d not ridden a bicycle since I was in college 20+ years earlier.  I remember thinking on the way there, “WOW!  This is nothing like the Sears 10 speed I had when I was a kid.”

I bought my first bike in years just a month later.  It was an aluminum Specialized Sequoia that I still own.  After about a year I bought a carbon fiber Specialized Tarmac, which I also still own.  I admit it, I was hooked.  So Keith, thanks for returning the joy of cycling to my life.

In the intervening 13 years I‘ve ridden a good bit: the Kansas cross state ride a bunch of times (BAK - google it), Hotter than Hell, The Copper Triangle, RASDAK (Ride Across South DAKota), and once rode across the state (Kansas) South to North in a day with a group of friends.  But life sorta intervened over the past couple of years.  This in the form of my Wife’s father having a stroke, knee replacement for me (an old HS football injury - seriously), my Father passing away this spring, my daughter getting married early this October (Good luck and God bless, Kelsy and Parker)...  You get the idea.  As a result, my riding had tailed off a bit - but never fallen off the radar.  Nor had I lost track of something called the Trans-Am.

So, as I’m nearing retirement (Did I forget to mention that? More on this in another post.) my oft stated desire to ride cross country became a more frequent topic of discussion between my wife and I.  Just in case I failed to mention her specifically, her name is Susan.  We’re 39 years married and she is the single best thing that’s ever happened to me here on God’s good Earth.  Having been together for so many years, I’m convinced of three things concerning this woman who is my best friend in life: 1) She has the patience of Job, 2) She has a huge heart for others, and 3) I’m pretty sure she could organize an ant hill.

She fully supports my goal of riding the Trans-Am and expressed her desire to go along.  As a result, my initial vision was to do the tour self supported with her along on our tandem.  I was quickly disabused of this forlorn hope.  As I recall, it went something like this.  Me, “Then let’s do it on the tandem.”  Susan, “No way buddy.  That’s your dream, not mine.”  "Buddy" apparently being her new found pet name for me, I was confused.  A state typical of most husbands.  However, as I said earlier, she supports the ride and as evidence of same, I proffer our recently purchased RV.  (Ah - this is what she meant.)  Despite some trepidation her part, which has mostly do do with the mountains, she has become adept at driving it and we will commence the ride with the RV as our base of operations. The kids and I accuse her of hanging out at truck stops in order to pick up on the subtleties of driving a big rig.  She denies this with a combination of  not-so-subtle eye rolling and vigorous objections, the sincerity of which further bespeak the truth of the matter.  Anyway, she’ll be my SAG.  Did I mention that she has the patience of Job?  She has the patience of Job.

For more on the whole retirement thing, see the "retirement" post.  Spolier alert: it explains the logo...

My wife finds it embarrasing in the extreme, but in the meantime I'll leave you with this pic from BAK- one of my riding "habits"...

But she takes the pictures for me any way. I think she has an advanced degree in eye-rolling with a minor in exhaustive sighs.