The Old Guy Bicycle Blog

They Said I Wouldn't Be Ready. I Proved Them Wrong. They said I wouldn't be ready. That I'd be lucky to ride a bike again in six weeks. That it would be months before I could train the way I used to. That chasing a 24-hour ride just a few months after a total knee replacement was unrealistic. That riding from Lubbock to Albuquerque two months after the canyon ride? Out of the question. But here's the thing about me: I've never accepted the limits others set for me. Twelve years ago, after my knee replacement, I told my doctor I planned to ride 200 miles in 24 Hours in the Canyon. I told him I'd be ready to take on a five-day, cross-state ride not long after. He said it wouldn't hurt to try—but warned me not to be disappointed if I couldn't. Two days post-surgery, I was in physical therapy. I spotted a stationary bike in the corner and asked to ride it. The therapist told me no. Not because it would hurt me—but because he was sure I wouldn...

Quick Take: I have never liked riding a bicycle in cold weather, but staying ready for an early-summer bicycle tour means I cannot simply quit riding all winter. After decades of cycling, I have learned that keeping my ears, fingers, and toes warm makes the biggest difference, and sometimes the smartest winter ride is the one I do indoors. I hate riding in cold weather. Some cyclists seem to love it. They talk about crisp air, quiet roads, and how a freezing morning makes them feel alive. I mostly just feel cold. My toes start complaining, my fingers never seem quite warm enough, and the wind somehow finds the one little opening in whatever I am wearing. If I had my way, I would probably avoid the bike every time the temperature dropped below 40 degrees. The problem is that I usually have an early-summer bicycle tour somewhere on the calendar, and I know from experience that I cannot wait until April or May to start getting ready for it. Those summer miles are built during t...

I bought my little Jayco Hummingbird 10RK for one main reason: I wanted it to take my bicycle to places I might otherwise never ride. I’m not really interested in camping just so I can sit around a campground all day. My idea is to use campgrounds as cycling hubs. I can tow the Hummingbird somewhere interesting, set it up, spend the night, and then get up the next morning and explore the surrounding area on my bicycle. Funny thing, I took lots of pictures on my first trip with my Hummingbird but I forgot to take one of it set up in the park. I promise to take a picture on my next weekend trip at the end of the month. My first real test of that idea was a weekend at Caprock Canyons State Park in the Texas Panhandle. I went there with one ride planned, but by Saturday evening I already knew I wasn’t going to ride it. First, I Drove the Road I Planned to Ride I arrived at Caprock Canyons State Park on Saturday and got the Hummingbird set up. Since I had never ridden the road I wa...

Quick Take: After tens of thousands of miles together, I sometimes wonder what my bicycle would say if it could talk. What would I ask it about the miles we have shared, and what would it want to know about me? These are the five questions I would ask my bike—and the five questions I think it might ask me. Cyclists often say they have a special connection with their bike—that it becomes an extension of their body, their will, and maybe even their spirit. After enough miles together, I think there is some truth to that. But what if that bond went one step further? What if your bicycle could actually talk back? I started wondering what kind of conversation we would have. What would I ask my bike? What would it ask me? After all the miles, tours, breakdowns, good days, bad days, headwinds, climbs, and quiet roads we have shared, I have a feeling we would have plenty to talk about. Here is how I imagine that conversation might go. 5 Questions I'd Ask My Bike 1. "H...

Quick Take: My bicycle ride from Lubbock, Texas, to Pensacola, Florida, included hundred-mile days, dangerous storms, summer heat, and plenty of unexpected challenges. Yet one of my favorite days from the entire trip was a peaceful ride along Louisiana’s Tammany Trace, where a gentle rain, two unexpected conversations, and an alligator that never appeared reminded me why I love bicycle touring. A peaceful day on Louisiana’s Tammany Trace became one of my favorite memories from the entire ride to Florida. When people hear that I rode my bicycle from Lubbock, Texas, to Pensacola, Florida, they usually assume my favorite memories involve the biggest accomplishments. They imagine the hundred-mile days, crossing state lines, surviving the summer heat, or finally reaching the Gulf Coast. Those moments were important, but they are not necessarily the ones I remember most clearly. Looking back now, one quiet and rainy day on Louisiana’s Tammany Trace may have been one of...

Quick Take: Most cyclists think peaceful rides mean country roads, farm lanes, or bike trails. One of my favorite places to unwind on a bicycle is the historic brick streets of downtown Lubbock, where traffic nearly disappears during evenings and on Sunday mornings. When people ask me where I like to ride, they usually expect me to name some quiet country road or a bike trail outside of town. Those are certainly great places to ride, and I enjoy them as much as anybody. But one of my favorite destinations is somewhere most people would never think about. Downtown Lubbock. Now, before you think I have lost my mind, hear me out. Lubbock has more than 250,000 people, and during the middle of a workday downtown is exactly what you would expect. There are people going to work, delivery trucks making stops, city business taking place, and traffic moving through the streets. It is not some empty ghost town all the time. But something interesting happens after busine...