Twas a night near Christmas**

Twas a night near Christmas**
And all cross the net,
nary a Hobbesian was posting,
Most threads were at rest.

In jamas I was surfing,
Without  worry or care,
on a Mac free of virus
or zombie malware.

I went for my email.
When what should appear,
"A post from Bill at Santana",
Talking about some new gear.

New bits formed in carbon
for under the tree?
Or finally a disc
that's maintenance free?

Or of Scandium, or Nobium,
with Imron that glistens.
All delivered in prose,
That sets tempers sizzlen.

So why do he do it?
Raising such ire?
Fore the night is over,
T@H flames are a afire.

"Your tests are too demanding
and unrealistic,
I use brand X,
So I am going ballistic!"

"Tandems for masses,
Are way to generic,
It only takes training,
Quit striving for perfect!"

But type on he does,
Bill knows what he knows,
He's put thousands of tandems,
On six continents of roads.

He's not always perfect,
But more right than not.
He's survived a free market,
Where competition is hot.

The man is driven by passion,
To deliver a fine tandem,
with a real concern,
for the teams riding on them.

The night wore on,
The flames became embers.
"It's about riding!"
Someone finally remembers.

The days will grow longer,
Soon winter will end,
On rides, not typing,
Our spare time we'll spend.

And after the summer,
Let's not forget,
Twas a night near Christmas**
And all cross the net. . .


** or please insert holiday of choice

The best to all of you across the years and miles.

-- 
Jay Hardcastle
Carmel, IN USA

One tandem, 
three stokers
too many singles
all out-of-phase

A not so much tandem update

November has come and gone, and my best laid plans for some new HOOTS work went by the wayside. Linda's father passed away in mid-November, and like so many of the tandem tweeners, we were caught between two generations of obligations.

Forest was a great husband, father, father-in-law, grandfather, great-grandfather, and to me, a friend as well.  Once we got initial introductions right, (Linda brought home a bicyclist, not biker), he, with his wife Beth,  became a great supporter of our riding adventures.  Here he is with Linda (near Poplar Bluff, Mo., in 1982), getting ready to drop us off for our first of many tandem tours.   

And once they realized our riding was not a pre-kids stage, after seeing the pictures of our 6-week old son riding in the trailer, they supported that too and cheered us on.  They were always concerned, but lived through the riding and other adventures we had with Tyler and Justin.  We are very thankful for that support, and Forest will be missed by all off us.

Needless to say, this means I don't yet have the date for the winter social, we don't have a new HOOTS domain, and the new welcome page isn't ready yet either.  But maybe just sharing this is enough.  

Keep it safe, 

Jay

My Really, Really, Bad Tire Day (Year)

This is not a post about tandems per say.  Although tandems do have tires and cantilever brakes.  And I would have been on a tandem if my boys had not grown out of it.  (Litteraly, since they are both taller than I am.)  So I was on Hilly Hundred on my touring bike, an Assenmacher (vintage 1980), while my youngest son, Justin, was riding a much newer Giant Defy 3. (We had a a great time, BTW).

In any case, at about 44 miles into a 50 mile day (which would be a 57 mile day).  I had my first flat.  While descending at 30+ mph on a quarter mile long hill.  Thankfully, it was merely exciting, and nothing more.  Having ridden said bike for more thank 40,000 miles over the last 30 years, probably helped, along with the fact the hill was straight, and I could get stopped and to the side of the road without a lot of interference from other bikes.

I get off to the side of the road, pull my tools and spare out of the rack trunk,  lay the bike down, and pull the front wheel.  First, I begin looking for the thorn or cut that was sure to have caused the problem.  Nothing there.  So off comes the tire, I pull the pump, pressure the tube, and find the hole.  It lines up with the sidewall, and a small cut there.  An not just a cut, but groove about an 1/8" above the rim, All the way around the tire, down to the cord.   And a "D'oh" light bulb came on.

Throughout the day, I had been hearing a soft, intermittent buzzing sound.  I knew it was on the front of the bike, but I couldn't find the source.  It wasn't spare camera batteries, loose change or other camera gear in the handlebar bag.  It wasn't fender or rack hardware. (Like I said, it is a touring bike.) But I just didn't put it together that the gentile buzzing was the top edge of the front brake pad gently touching the tire sidewall just above the rim.  And each time I applied the brake, I cut away a little more sidewall and tire cord. So finally at 44 miles, enough cord was gone to let the tube through and cause a blow-out.

It all went back to a few days before Hilly, when I had the bike in a car with the front wheel off.  In hurry, I had just shoved the wheel back into place, without releasing the cantilever cable.  And my vintage Deore XT cantilever, 3-plane adjustable pad had twisted up and away from the rim to contact the sidewall.

Rushing, rookie or just dumb, I was fortunate I just had two flats and no crashes.  Did I mention the second flat?  Seems like the casing gave away a little more about 10 miles later, and I finally had to boot the tire with a folded $5 bill (no $1s in my wallet) to finish the last 5 miles.

So 2010 becomes my year of the tire.  I had already replaced tires on 4 (now 4.5)  of the 10 bikes in our household.  (Just chance that 4 had rolled up this year).  During the spring, a defective side wall on a new tire had resulted in a 3 flats over 2 days on our tandem (rear, of course).  In  any case I am back to carrying a spare folding on the tandem, along with 2 tubes, and patches.  Looking around the garage, only 2 bikes are up for for new tires next year.  Maybe I can upgrade some ancient cantilever brakes.