Sunday, November 19, 2023

Jonathan

I took my kayak across the road to the lake for some fishing.  There was a guy on the dam already with a big white SUV and two boys.  I complimented him on taking his kids fishing, but he said the kids weren't fishing.  They were playing with toys in the tall grass on the bank.  Ah, well, at least he was getting them outside.  He caught a nice bass and returned it.  I took the kayak into the middle of the lake, but over the water I could hear everything said on shore.  The youngest boy began saying, "This is stupid!" "Fishing is stupid!" The Dad told him to stop saying that word.  It was downhill from there.  The boy went into a complete meltdown.  They hadn't been out 10 minutes yet.  The Dad put the boy in the SUV with the engine running.  I don't know what was in there to entertain him (DVD player?), but it seemed to work.  The older boy even fished for a while.  

I had a good time, catching a number of nice crappie.  A friend of the Dad showed up, fished for a while and left.  The Dad starts picking his gear up and heading back to the SUV.  That's when I heard him say clearly:

Jonathan, unlock the door.

I avoided laughing out loud, and turned the other way to hide my smile.  Jonathan, unlock the door.  Come to the front and unlock it.  Negotiations continued in this vein for some time.  Meanwhile, the truck was running.  I find this power struggle fascinating, and keep listening for the outcome.  Dad is noticeably trying to suppress the anger in in his voice.  Clearly, he knows that blowing up at the kid is not going to work in his favor.  He changes tactics.  Jonathan, we're hungry.  Unlock the door so we can go eat.  Appeal to sympathy.  Variations of this approach go on for some time.  Finally, I hear a car door open.  Dad loads all the gear in and they leave.  I haven't seen them come back.  I wonder if Jonathan didn't get a stern lecture at some point afterward.  


Thursday, August 3, 2023

RAGBRAI 2023

 


Saturday, July 22

I did RAGBRAI alone for the first time this year, 2023.  I have a former student who lives in Davenport, the end point of the ride, and I offered to pay her to haul me out to Sioux City. She had to work, but her husband was available.  I got up early, drove to Davenport, and Matt drove me west. We saw a few team busses on the highway. We stopped in Cedar Valley and had a delicious burrito at Pablo's.  When we got to Sioux City, there was a massive traffic snarl.  It was hard to tell where we were supposed to go, and even when we found out, we typically chose the wrong lane.  After about an hour, he dropped me at the campground. I found an area of open flat grass next to a parking lot to pitch my tent.  Shortly, I saw that I was very close to the kybos, so the smell was not so favorable.  I dipped my rear tire at a nearby launch ramp, and rode my bike over the the Bike Expo to explore the booths.  I met Cathy Murphy (AKA Murph) from the Just Go Bike podcast, as well as Marley Blonsky, a recent subject of said podcast and co-creator of All Bodies on Bikes (https://youtu.be/JytAXpxmmQY).  I saw Ryan van Duzer at the Priority Bikes tent, but he was backed up with people wanting selfies.  I checked out a lot of the booths, picked up some freebies, and stood in a long line for the RAGBRAI merch tent.  They were fairly wiped out of stock because of the crowd, but I managed to find a few bargains.  

I took the goods back to my tent and returned with my chair.  I got a hot dog for dinner and watched the opening band.  They were a pretty good cover band. The Spin Doctors took the stage, and they did not disappoint.  I don't know their work that well, so some songs were unfamiliar, but they also did their hits, of course.  They had the most amazing sound quality I heard the whole trip. Very clear and free of distortion.  I rode my my bike back to my tent with a headlight for the darkness. I'm not used to sleeping under street lights, with traffic and people walking by, or kybo smell, but I slept surprisingly well.

Sunday, July 23. RAGBRAI day 1. Sioux City to Storm Lake. 

68.70 mi, 5:28:24, 2,972 ft of climb

I got up at 5, thinking that would give me a jump on the crowds.  Not so.  I was packed by 6, but I had to stand in the baggage drop line 45 minutes.  I heard later that other people had 2-hour waits. Eventually, they stopped requiring people to weigh their bags (there's a 50-lb limit).  My bag was 39 lb.

It was cool and overcast to start.  I took advantage of the mild conditions to get as many miles behind me as I could while it was nice.  The hills provided some great vistas, but were killers on my legs, and they sapped me.  When I finally arrived in Storm Lake, I stopped at the campground for baggage pick-up and the first thing I asked the guy was "Is this the regular RAGBRAI pick-up?"  He said yes, and we spent like 20 minutes looking for my bag.  Eventually, I noticed all the bags had a white tag, which led to the realization that it was actually the baggage for the Pork Belly Ventures charter.  I was pissed.  I was hot, tired, and had wasted a bunch of time.  Plus, I had stopped my bike computer, and it was another 5 miles to my actual campground.  I should mention that the Pork Belly campground was right on the lake and had many large trees for shade.  My campground was an open ball field at the high school.  No shade anywhere.  

I took the shuttle down to the lakefront and got a nice, fat burrito.  I sat on the bank of Storm Lake, which is quite large, and watched people and boats while listening to the warm-up band.  I went into the venue and got a beer before the Spazmatics started their set.  Their nerd rock did not disappoint.  I've seen them twice before.  Very fun.  

I walked back to the shuttle pick-up and saw two busses loading.  I broke into a trot and soon as I got near I asked a volunteer which one was going to the main campground.  He said the first one, which was then pulling away.  I said, "Son of a bitch!"  I think he was offended.  If I had known, I could have run straight for that one and made it.  So I waited like 20 minutes for the next shuttle to main campground (meanwhile 5 other busses came for the other campgrounds).  While talking to another volunteer, I learned that 500 people had wanted to take the sag wagon that day. That far exceeded capacity, so they were stranded in the first town until later, when the ride organizers sent school busses to pick them up.  Not sure how their bikes were hauled back.

Monday, July 24.  RAGBRAI day 2. Storm Lake to Carroll

57.71 mi, 4:41:09, 1,526 ft of climb

I had breakfast at the nearby Hy-Vee.  They had a nice breakfast buffet and almost no line. I sat with a guy named Patty who was going to ride RAGBRAI, then ride self-supported up to Winona, MN with a huge amount of climb.  I don't think I would try that.  I left an hour later than normal and that turned out well, as there was no line for bag drop. 

The ride was relatively short and easy, which was quite a relief.  The campground was another ball field, with no hope of shade.  I pitched my tent next to a fence, which was handy for locking up my bike, but I hadn't noticed the generator-driven yard light that was running later that evening. When I was trying to sleep.

Fortunately, the high school was serving hot lasagna for dinner.  Their showers were cold and communal though.  I met a 1st year medical student in line for food, and we decided to beat the heat by sitting inside the HS, charging our electronics, and chatting. Then another guy joined us.  He was a writer for MSNBC, and very interesting to talk to. I missed the Pork Tornadoes that night, but I had seen them before.  They're good but not in my genre.  After sunset I walked back to my tent for bed.  

Tue, 7/25/2023 RAGBRAI Day 3: Carroll to Ames, century day.
101.13 mi, 7:51:29, 1,827 ft of climb

I tried to get an early start, but the bag drop was a long line that spiraled through a parking lot.  Weird. Again, I tried to get miles in early while it was cool, and we had some overcast sky.  I made few stops, as usual, and tried to listen to my body when it needed water, drinks or specific foods, such as ice cream. The route was very well designed, with relatively little climb, and the century loop was late in the ride, so you could more readily decide whether you wanted to attempt it. Plus, the ride was going to be 86 miles without the loop.  What's another 15?   My right thigh was complaining a bit, but when I reached the decision point, I decided to go for it.  I'm glad I did.  The route was pretty easy, with plenty of tailwinds.  More importantly, I made a friend in Alton from Montgomery, Alabama. He's a real southern gentleman, and we made the miles fly by with our conversation. We picked up our century patches together and celebrated for a bit.  We rode the rest of the ride together.  There was a guy with a little dog in a box on the front rack of his bike.  He also had wooden box panniers. As a woodworker, he had built them himself.  The dog box was labeled "I bite!"  A rare silky terrier, he was a rescue and "mean as a hornet."  Nobody I saw tried petting him.  Alton and I rode through Jack Trice Stadium at Iowa State in Ames.  Their cheerleaders were lining the route, and boy do they have a lot of them.  

The campground was Brookside Park, and I probably got my best camp site here, right next to the brook.  I got pizza from a vendor in the campground. I took the "bum's shower" in the water jet area, which was intended for filling water bottles.  I rode my bike downtown to Casey's to get some food and a beer. I rode to the venue, but they wouldn't let me take the beer inside.  After consuming it, I went into the downtown mall area where they had set up a bandstand.  The opening act was Burnin' Sensations, which struck me as awkward because the Burning Sensations had a hit in the 80s with "Belly of the Whale," but this was not them.  They were actually a really good band, though, and played some unique covers, like "Fat-bottomed Girls" by Queen (and we all yelled, "get on your bikes and ride!" at the appropriate point).  One guitarist had an unusual left hand with no obvious fingers.  He could somehow hold a pick, however, and I thought he was just going to play chords and rhythm, but the guy could play lead.  He sang too.  They ended with Head East's "Never been any reason," which has a lot of keyboard parts in it.  The keyboard player was dressed like a 1970s British rocker, with long hair, skin tight black pants and red lame' jacket with no shirt underneath.  He came out with a keytar and was playing the solos with the thing over his head and absolutely killing it.  I sure wasn't expecting that.

Since I was there fairly early, I was up in the front, near the right speakers.  When Hairball came out, the volume was deafening.  I felt near-field effects throughout my body, and when the bass hit the deep notes, I could feel it pushing and pulling the air in and out of my lungs when my mouth was open. I stayed there anyway. I haven't experienced that kind of loud in a long time. Probably won't again for awhile.  The crowd was huge, estimated at 5000 filling the downtown.  They played classic rock favorites, each time with one of the three lead singers dressed and made up like the original, such as Gene Simmons of Kiss or Dee Snider of Twisted Sister.  They put on a hell of a show.  They change it every time, and even though I'd seen them twice before, they did not do Alice Cooper or Queen previously, and that was a treat.  They really should have done Queen's "Bicycle" though. Their encore was AC/DC and I took that opportunity to get on my bike and ride, beating the crowds back to the campground.

Wednesday, July 26, 2023.  RAGBRAI day 4. Ames to Des Moines.

57.12 mi, 4:25:48, 1,227 ft of climb

They were closing a major highway for the route, but only for a fixed period that day.  So if we got to Ankeny too soon, we would have to wait.  I elected to sleep until 6.  The late start was a plus, as there was no line for the bag drop.  I think one of the themes was that people were trying to beat the crowds by getting up earlier, but that doesn't work when everyone does it. One thing I noticed was that people would ride out of town and get breakfast at the first stop.  By eating in the overnight town before departing, I had no lines or crowds.

This day was predicted to be the biggest.  The news said 20,000 riders were registered for the whole week and 9000 had day passes.  Probably several thousand more joined us for this fairly short route between two big college towns.  I saw plenty of bikes and people without wristbands riding. And it was, indeed, crowded.  Most days were, but this was the proverbial elbow-to-asshole ride.  We had to wait for a train to get out of town.  A couple on a tandem blasted over the tracks right ahead of the train. I would not have tried that! 

The campground was another big park.  I tried to guess where the sun was going, but apparently I was disoriented because my tent ended up being the last to get shade.  So I went out exploring on my bike and discovered a secondary stage where a band was playing Living Colour's "Cult of Personality."  Intrigued, I sat in the shade and watched them a while.  They consisted of three young men.  They all took a turn at the drums, and all sang except the bass player.  The other two traded off guitar and drums and were quite proficient at both.  They played of diversity of seldom-covered rock songs, including "La Via Strangiato" and "Working Man" by Rush.  I think nobody covers Rush because their stuff is so difficult to play, but these guys nailed it.  I was in heaven.  Meanwhile, I got food and beer from vendors who were right there, and there were no lines.  Oh, and the route trail ran right in front of the stage, so I got to watch bikes and people go by.  The next band looked familiar, but they were a few songs in before I realized it was the Kris Lager Band, an excellent blues group that I'd seen before on a Big BAM ride.  Kris said, "this is the most people that we've played for 10 seconds in front of," referring to the bikers streaming by.  I went and took a shower at Joe's Wet Shack, then rode my bike down to the main venue.  Lynyrd Skynyrd were only a couple of songs into their set.  I got some pizza and a beer and sat down out in the middle of the crowd where it wasn't too loud.  They played all their hits and sounded great considering all their original members are dead.  

Thursday, July 27, 2023.  RAGBRAI day 5. Des Moines to Tama-Toledo
94.78 mi, 8:28:55, 4,402 ft of climb

With everyone wanting to get an early start, it was a long line for baggage drop again.  I have a photo of about half of it. It was cool weather early and I tried to get those miles in by skipping most of the towns, but it was a long hard day at eight and one-half hours in the saddle.  Man, was my butt sore. It's hard to find a saddle that works well with the lower position that aerobars provide.  It was almost certainly the hardest day of RAGBRAI ever for me, and for others that I spoke to who had done it more years.  The hills were never-ending and fairly steep.  Last year I changed out the cassette on my bike for one with lower gearing, but even the lowest is too high for my liking.  Still, I never walked up a hill or took the sag wagon.  I will have to change derailleurs to get some lower gears, and it's not that easy on an older bike like my Litespeed Tachyon. In Kellogg, I met a cute little white dog named Snowball.  He was barking at everyone, but turned out to be friendly.  The bank doorway in Grinnell was super elaborate, so I photographed that. I stopped in one town for a drink and a snack. The little grocery was wiped out of stuff, and one guy had bought a half gallon of orange juice. He walked out of the store and said, "Anyone want a drag off this before I put my lips on it?"  I was about 4 miles out of the end towns, Tama-Toledo, and there was a biker down in the road ahead.  Later I heard he had crashed into the ditch.  They had called for a helicopter to evac him, but canceled that and took him out in the ambulance. I never saw him because I turned off when I saw a sign for Indian tacos.  They were having a pow wow later that night, and I was able to get an Indian frybread taco, which I hadn't had in decades. I had to ride some gravel to get into their park, but there were no lines.  I met some people from Ukraine, which made for interesting conversation.  They had Ukrainian flag jerseys and olive branches on their helmets.  I rode the short distance into town. At one point I could see a school and campers ahead, but there were no signs and most bikes were turning, so I turned and went another few miles (from Tama to Toledo, which are across a highway from each other).  There I learned that I was now in the WRONG campground, and rode back to the first one, fuming with anger. So I had to ride an extra 6 miles at the end of an already difficult day because RAGBRAI has shitty signage.  I picked up my bag and found a place to camp by the elementary school. When I checked my bike computer I was at 94 miles and I really thought about going around the block a few times just to notch another century, but I was just too dead to realistically attempt that. The line for Joe's Wet Shack was really long, so I took the bum's shower again in the water spray area, which was probably intended for cooling, rinsing clothing, and filling water bottles.  I had plenty of company there.  The water's cold, but it's free. There was an older couple there, and the guy was washing his wife's hair in one of the jets, and it was just an adorable moment.  I found out the elementary school was open as a cooling center.  I went in and charged my electronics.  The air was really nice and cold inside.  I chatted for awhile with a guy from California who lived in Redlands, not far from Riverside where I went to undergrad.  I was in no mood to ride my bike, and the shuttle routes looked really goofy, so I decided to skip seeing Foghat.  They have one original member left.   We left when the school closed at 9.  

Friday, July 28, 2023,  RAGBRAI day 6. Tama-Toledo to Coralville.
82.04 mi, 6:56:24, 2,497 ft of climb

I had seen the Kwik Star convenience store on my unfortunate trip to the wrong campground the previous afternoon, so I went there first thing in the morning.  Almost no one was there. I got coffee and a cholesterol-infused sandwich.  I sat with a couple of guys from San Francisco, so we talked about California a bit.  One guy had bought a half gallon of chocolate milk.  I jokingly asked if he was planning to drink it all.  He said no, and offered me some.  I finished my coffee and drank 2 cups of the stuff.  It was college jersey day, and I wore an old QU Women's Soccer Team jersey that I had found in a pile of freebies on campus a few years ago. Though lacking rear pockets like a proper bike jersey, it was remarkably cool and comfortable.  

Coming into one of the towns, the bottleneck was so great that we had to get off our bikes about a quarter mile out.  Normally, that doesn't happen until you're in town a bit.  I took a side road past some goats and bypassed most of the happenings, though I was tempted to stop and get a better look at the live reindeer and camel.  It got hot later in the day. I stopped in a town, listened to a band while sitting in the shade, and had a soda. That helped for awhile, and later in the day I stopped at a farm and did their slip 'n' slide just to cool off.  There was a pool of soapy water at the bottom, where I was completely submerged.  It felt great, but I never did get it all rinsed off.  

It was another long, hard, hot ride.  When we rolled into Coralville I went to the information booth to ask where the baggage pick-up was.  It was right in front of me.  I found my bag and was walking out when I ran right into Alton. What luck!  We surveyed the surroundings for camping, and he said most of the area was too far to carry his bag.  I told him I'd carry his bag for him, and as far as necessary. I went back with him to help him find his bag.  He described it and I found it. Fortunately, it had backpack straps and I carried it a short distance to a flat spot we had picked out not far away. In fairness, Alton is 72 and I'm only 61. We set up our tents and sat in the shade awhile to rest.  We chose well this time, as the shade gradually crept up and covered our tents.  We got showers at another pay trailer whose name I can't remember (Million Waters?).  It was much nicer than Joe's Wet Shack.  A couple of his friends from Alabama joined us for dinner at the Methodist Church, and Alton paid for all our dinners.  The food was great and abundant.  I rolled out of there, stuffed. I ran into Josh Mittelberg from my area, pretty much the only person I knew on the whole ride, as Julian was unable to come up and join me. We walked out of the church and were crossing the street when I saw a large, black dog running in a yard ahead.  I couldn't have been more pleased to find a giant schnauzer.  She was young, friendly and beautiful.  She really made my day, which was about to get MUCH worse.  

Alton wanted to buy a fresh T-shirt so we went down to the venue and vendor area. There were no T shirts to be had.  Alton left, and I went to the ID line to get my age confirmed, which is required before you can buy a ticket, which you need to get a beer.  A police officer went to the mic on the stage and announced that a huge thunderstorm was coming and the band (Bush) was probably not going to play, and we were going to have to take shelter in the nearby rec center and school.  I quickly bought my beer before they cut off sales.  The air raid sirens went off and the roadies started pulling some equipment off the stage and covering the rest of it with plastic.  Then I saw the ominous shelf cloud coming in from the north. Everyone was heading for the exit, but when I got there, the security guard said I couldn't leave with a beer. Great. I walked back and downed it as fast as reasonably possible.  I hoofed it back to my tent right when the gust front hit, and it was a doozy.  I secured my tent and headed for shelter.  I wanted to go into the rec center because my phone was charging in there but the line was too long and police were motioning us to cross the street to the school.  I did so, with dust blowing in my eyes.  The wind was fierce and already some tents were blown down. At least I had my chair, so I didn't have to sit on the gymnasium floor.  The only reading material I had was the maps of Coralville and Davenport I had gotten at the information booth.  I can look at maps for a long time, but 1.5 hours is a stretch.  The side doors were open in the gym, and I could see the lightning, wind and rain were ongoing.  Finally, people started drifting out. I briefly talked to one guy who had been trying to sleep on the floor next to me. He had been unable to get the fly on his tent and had just taken his sleeping bag out of its waterproof bag when the storm hit.  It was going to be an ugly night for him, with presumably all of his stuff soaked.  I deployed the little poncho-in-a-plastic bag that I had been carrying in my fanny pack all week and ran across the street to the rec center. I found my phone and was able to start contacting people.  I let everyone know I was OK.  I found out one of my former students who lives in Iowa City had come down for the concert.  He wanted to meet, but the storm canceled that.  He said if my tent was down I could stay at his place, which was super nice.  The rain let up a bit and I went out to my tent.  It was still up and fairly dry inside.  I had left the air vents on top open in my haste, but not much water got in.  Sadly, Alton had collapsed his tent to prevent it blowing away, and it was full of water.  I helped him re-erect it and hammered in his stakes.  He sopped up the water with his towel and eventually got to bed.  I got in my tent and went to bed with the sound of raindrops on the fly.  In the morning, the tent was soaked on the outside, but I I shook off the fly and packed it up anyway.  

Saturday, July 29, 2023.  RAGBRAI day 7. Coralville to Davenport
73.20 mi, 5:19:09, 1,535 ft of climb

In the morning I heard Alton and his friends outside.  I dressed and packed in my tent, thinking I'd see them before they left, but when I got out, they were gone already.  The wind had blown over two kybos. Fortunately, nothing leaked out. A number of tents and things had been thrown in the dumpster, but I could not find anything worth salvaging.  I got breakfast at a Kum and Go just outside Iowa City.  Again, no lines.  I bought some cheap sunglasses, as I had dropped mine somewhere that morning before I left. A couple of miles down the road we had the option of going through Kinnick Stadium at University of Iowa. It was pretty cool, and I read later that the option was cut off at 8:00 a.m.  Although over 70 miles, the ride was comparatively easy, as it was fairly flat with a modest tailwind.  I bombed through it, seldom stopping. I talked to people that had slept in the school the previous night because their tents were destroyed.  It was awful, as people were up all night making noise and walking around.  I dipped my tire and took the obligatory photo in Muscatine, as I knew the tire-dipping line in Davenport would be long. At one point I fell in behind three riders because I wanted to draft the last guy, who was pretty big.  After a few miles I lost them, but found I had gained about 5 riders who were drafting ME.  That seldom happens.  I didn't mind and pulled them for quite a few miles. Outside Muscatine, someone was giving away drinks and snacks.  I got a Coke and some pretzels.  When we rolled into Davenport a train was coming through, blocking us from entering the riverfront parks where all the event stuff was.  I made my way to the luggage pick-up, found my bag, and went back to meet Matt, who had driven down to pick me up.  I got a shower at their place, and it was absolutely fantastic.  I drove home, but I stopped for sunflower seeds because I was falling asleep at the wheel.  

Final thoughts

This was definitely the hardest of the four RAGBRAIs I have ever done.  I don't think I was in any worse shape, as I had trained fairly hard this year.  The length and hills made it brutal.  534.68 was my mileage total, plus probably another ten for unrecorded miles.  I don't think I will do it next year unless one or more of the following occur: the route is more southern and easier, and they cap registration at a reasonable number. 

It took about 3 days for my legs and butt to feel normal, but that's typical.  My resting heart rate has gone down to about 54, which is super low for me.  Probably didn't get below 60 last year.  I lost 2 lb on RAGBRAI and have lost 2 more since.  Usually, I lose 10 lb or so, but they don't come off until the weeks following the ride.

I met a lot of interesting people, and found that conversation helps pass the time.  I talked with one woman for about an hour, and when she pulled over I found that we had gone 16 miles without noticing.  Meeting Alton on the century loop was the best though.  We talked each other through it.  I met another woman who had a vacation home in Lake of the Oaks, which is in my county.  Crazy. I got a lot of comments on my bike.  One guy was riding a Litespeed that he claimed had 75,000 miles on it.  Another guy said he had one, but it was too precious to take on RAGBRAI.  My jerseys initiated some conversations, including my Ped Jam jerseys, but mostly the Mount Diablo jersey.  Anyone who had lived near it wanted to talk about it.

I want to record some of my strategies here for reference.  I ate breakfast in the overnight town to avoid crowds. I ate flexibly and in out-of-the way places to avoid lines.  I used cornfields, and defiled a few, to avoid kybo lines.  I got up at 5 and was ready to go by 6. This did not help avoid crowds, but I put more miles in early when it was cooler.  Any earlier and it's dark out, requiring lights on the bike. Usually, I rode past the first few towns without stopping unless there was something really interesting. I tried to listen to my body to understand what it wanted in terms of food or drink.  I wore a different (old, unwanted) T shirt every night and threw that and my underwear in the trash every morning, so my bag became lighter and emptier each day.  I brought a battery bank so that I could charge my phone without having to compete for limited outlet space every night. I downsized a lot of my stuff, such as tent, pillow, sleeping pad. I used a bike light as my tent flashlight. Extra space adds up.  

Next time, I would carry fewer shorts and jerseys, maybe 3 each, and attempt to wash them periodically. 

I tried to take more photos this year.  An album of them can be viewed here: https://photos.app.goo.gl/GkC1k5ezvGCqLYdu6



Sunday, April 16, 2023

Reincarnation of the Gran Turismo

This story starts with a different bike, a 1980 Univega Super Ten that my daughter bought at a garage sale for $10.  It was all original and in mint condition. Red lettering on black paint looked great.  But with a steel frame and wheels, it is an absolute brick. I lightened it up by changing out some of the components, but still it was a bit of a drag to ride.  It just wasn't as rideable as I remembered my old Gran Turismo, though it reminded me of it a lot. 

Super Ten before restoration.

Super Ten after restoration.

Eventually, I started to wonder why I shouldn't get another Gran Turismo. Surely, some had survived.  A quick check on eBay revealed about 3. The ones in good condition were over $400, plus another $200+ in shipping.  Not doable.  But there was one just on the other side of Kansas City for considerably less, and the distance was drivable.  It was the right color, but a bit rough.  It weighed on my mind until I decided to get it. The seller had dropped the price.  I contacted the guy on eBay, and set up a time to pick it up.  I drove across the entire state of Missouri for this bike, and it was an absolute beater. There was no hope of keeping it all original, particularly as the front wheel had been replaced by a steel Weinmann. I took it completely apart.  Normally, I just touch up the paint on a bike restoration, but this one was too far gone.  I had the frame powdercoated. A lot of the components were badly damaged. The front skewer was so bent that the wheel would not turn properly.  I substituted several components for better ones I had on hand and bought some new, such as tires, cables, brake pads, gear cluster, chain, brake hoods, rear derailleur. I bought a donor bike for a better (aluminum) but not original front wheel. I had to remake the decals myself, which was its own ordeal. As the original color was "classic gold", I went with a gold theme for some of the smaller parts. It was three months from start to finish.

Gran Turismo before restoration.
Gran Turismo after restoration.

It feels pretty light and rides smooth, at least down the driveway.  I haven't taken it on a longer ride yet.  I don't have many pics of my original bike, but this one shows my roommate and myself leaving on a bikepacking trip in 1983. I sold it the following semester.

Carl Sprung and Joe Coelho


The original Gran Turismo on the back of my 1971 Camaro.


The Big BAMs

2015

Back in 2015 I was on the tourism commission in Canton, MO.  When the Big BAM (Bicycle Across Missouri) came to us and asked us to be the end town for their inaugural ride, I was chosen to be the local coordinator.  I designed a really neat finish to the ride, and had been looking forward to that day, but it rained so hard that the last day of the ride was canceled.  We enjoyed the concert anyway. 

2016

The next year the end was to be in Hannibal, so Savannah and I decided to ride it.  We had never taken on a multi-day bike tour like this.  We both bought road bikes and trained for it. I put together the camping gear we would need. I rode the Fuji with a rear rack, one pannier and fenders. Savannah rode her Felt with a top bar bag and a seat bag. It started in St. Joseph, where we saw the amazing Kris Lager Band.  Sadly, I haven't seen them since. We stopped at Shatto Milk Company.  It was fun, but lines were too long to get any ice cream.  We got something for lunch I don't recall.  In Hamilton we stopped at the Ninja Moose Brewery, where some guys we had just met bought our beers.  I also learned about biking sandals from them.  This was the first time I saw A.J. Gaither, an amazing one-man band who builds all his own equipment.   Chillicothe had the nice water park that we swam in. That night featured the Final Mix Show Band, who played great funk. We stopped for a couple of beers in Bevier.  Brookfield I don't remember too much about.  I think  I stopped somewhere to pee and got a nice rash on my leg.  I still don't know what plant caused it, but I've had it again since.  At one point, Savannah had to poop really bad.  We passed a spot with a grain silo, which I thought was perfect.  But she said no, she'd wait.  Finally, the situation got desperate, and she had to blast through some high weeds and brush to get into a hedge row and do her business.  That will teach her!

In Macon we camped at the Fairgrounds.  I think Macon is where we met Matt and Deb.  Some people camping near us were up late making a lot of noise.  When we got up in the morning, Savannah intentionally stomped around to disturb their sleep.  They were not amused. In Shelbina we camped at the lake, but we weren't allowed to swim, sadly.  The ride ended at Hannibal.  Stacey picked us up and we went home.

The first couple of days on that ride it was really hot.  Savannah and I had trained in the heat and did not suffer any difficulty.  Many dropped out or at least took the sag wagon for the day.  Some people had crashed their bikes, and later I saw a guy with his arm all bandaged and in a sling, but he kept riding.  

One night we had carpenter ants in the tent. Boy, it only takes one crawling on your face to wake you up.  They're big.  Every night after that we made sure to get all the zippers tightly closed.  We also hadn't counted on the ground being so hard, making it difficult to set our tent stakes.  Later I bought a plastic mallet to use on future rides.

My photo album from that month has some images of the ride: https://photos.app.goo.gl/qJ2obcuTUvq3YPNG9

2017

In 2017, the Big BAM was ending in Louisiana, MO, which isn't far from home.  We decided to do it again.  It started in Weston on June 11, where we met up with Deb and Matt again.  They introduced us to Corky, who would become a good friend and riding partner.  We ate and drank at this old speakeasy bar that had many floors, mostly underground.  It was fascinating.  Every floor had a different band, and you couldn't hear the others.  One was an Irish folk singer who was hilarious.  Another guy was right next to us while we were eating, playing an unusual type of folk guitar.  

From Weston, we rode to  Kearney and stayed overnight at the Jesse James Park and Amphitheatre.

June 12, we rode through Watkin’s Mill State Park, and after crossing the Missouri River, wound up in Lexington, camping next to the Civil War battlefield of the Anderson House State Historic Site. The campground was kind of in a hole in the middle of town.  I think it was the athletic field of a school.  

On June 13, we traversed the rolling countryside and ended at the Missouri Valley College in Marshall.  I met up with Brian Nolan, a former colleague at QU.   I remember one of the bands was Bones, Jugs and Harmony.  There was another band that played bones too, and in the end they had both bone players on stage playing bone percussion.

On June 14,  we crossed back over the Missouri river at Glasgow and spent the night at Rothwell Park in Moberly. I think it rained like hell that night, and our tent leaked.  It was then I vowed to get a better tent.

On June 15, we rode through a covered bridge and Mark Twain’s birthplace at Mark Twain Lake, before camping next to Clarence Cannon Dam. We took a shuttle down the the spillway, where we heard the Kay Brothers play for the first time.  Molly Healey was their fiddle player at that time, and they were amazing.  I became a fan and have seen them several times since.  

The last leg of the ride was interesting, taking us west.  We came out just south of Louisiana and had to ride Highway 79 up the bluff.  That was where I learned I was heart healthy, because if not I'd certainly have had a heart attack on those last two hills. Stacey picked us up in Louisiana.  We left right away because there wasn't much happening.  We got a flat tire in the Echo, and limped home on a doughnut.

A few pics from that ride are in this album: https://photos.app.goo.gl/t4jd31XNmuAtaGnu9

2021

In 2018 and 2019 we rode RAGBRAI instead of Big BAM.  2020 was the pandemic, so we made our own ride on the Katy Trail.  In 2021, Corky and I rode the BAM.  It was more of a Ride Around Missouri, making a curve through southeast Missouri.  It was great for me, as I had never been to any of these towns.  I had recently sold the Fuji and bought a Kestrel carbon fiber bike, which I rode on this ride.  It was really great.  Super light, and the Ultegra components made for smooth shifting and easy braking.  It didn't have as low gearing as the old Fuji though.

I drove down to Ste. Genevieve and met Corky and Janet.  We had a nice lunch, loaded my stuff into their car, then drove down to Poplar Bluff to camp.  There were only about 150 people on the ride.  

Day 1 June 14 -- Poplar Bluff to Sikeston, 69.3 miles, +761 ft

This was about the easiest 70 miles of my life.  It was completely flat and we had a bit of tailwind.  At one point we came across a guy who had is mower stuck in the ditch.  Corky and the guy pushed while I drove because I was the lightest and have a similar mower.  We got it out. We passed some rice paddies along the way.  We ate at the famous Lambert's Cafe, home of the throwed rolls.  It was really good, but a lot of food.  

Day 2 June 15-- Sikeston to Cape Girardeau, 69.5 miles, +1377 ft

We found a road-killed armadillo, placed a beer can strategically in its grasp, and photographed it.  We left it there for others to enjoy.  We did the same later with a raccoon and a red fox.  

Day 3 June 16 -- Cape Girardeau to Perryville, 52.2 miles, +3821 ft

Corky got into it with some guys who were holding up traffic by riding in the lane rather than on the generous shoulder. They all had  little American flags in their helmets. We stopped at another covered bridge in Burfordville. At that point, Corky apologized to them.  We found out later they were noobs.  I found a road-killed rough green snake in one place, and a milk snake in another.  Both were new to me.  Perryville had a huge, amazing recreation center for such a small town. There was a big hill on this ride, and I couldn't quite make it up.  I stopped and walked the bike, which I never do. This was definitely the hardest day of riding.  Later that summer I bought a new cassette with some lower gears.

Day 4 June 17 -- Perryville to Farmington, 44.3 miles, +2583 ft

We passed through Knob Lick and drove by Big Dick's BBQ.  Too bad it was closed.  Maybe it was here that I heard the narrowmouthed toad in our campground, which was by a lake.  Sounded like a baby wailing.

Day 5 June 18 -- Farmington to Ste. Genevieve, 42.5 miles, +2318 ft

We stopped at a winery, and it was very nice.  Corky wanted to keep partying with some women (most of them lesbians) we had met, so he stayed there while I rode on.  At one point I saw an eagle land ahead of me on the roadside.  When I reached the point where it had landed, I found a dead cat.  An old, dead cat.  Janet met up with me at one point to make sure I was OK.  When I got into Ste. Genevieve, there was hardly anyone there.  They were still selling T shirts, but I thought they were too expensive.  I was able to get a shower before I drove home.  

Some images from this ride are sandwiched into the middle of this photo album: https://photos.app.goo.gl/GcZokDGK9GKqYvj97




Friday, March 10, 2023

The Crash of 2021






2013 Trek Fuel EX 5, a bike you can get into big trouble with.

Now I can give an account and some perspective on that time I crashed my bike.  I had recently gotten a used, full-suspension mountain bike.  I had fixed it up, cleaned it and tweaked it, and was eager to ride.  The friend I sometimes ride with on Sunday mornings was not available, so I went out on my own.  Stacey was to be in Church all morning, so I had three hours or so to have fun.  The Quincy Mountain Bike Group has created some great, well-groomed trails in Gardner Park on the bluff, so I left the car with Stacey at her church and rode down there.  I got in from 5th street and hit some fun and easy trails.  I had only been riding 20 or 30 minutes when I saw these two drops in "The Web" part of the trail. These were wooden ladder-type drops that drop you into a slight downhill. I took the right hand one without difficulty, then rode up the hill again to take the left hand one.  That's where it all went wrong.  It happened pretty fast, but I'll try to account for as much as I reasonably can.

I went off the drop and immediately knew things had gone sideways, literally.  I was leaning to the left in midair, which I now know is the "dead sailor" effect.  So I was going to go down as soon as the wheels hit the ground.  Indeed, I was falling to the left, and preparing for my body to meet the Earth when the next thing I knew, my head hit a tree, pretty much stopping all forward motion.  I did not see the tree coming at all.  I felt the left side of the helmet hit, then the side of my face, which went numb.  I got up and shook myself off.  As I began to self-assess for injuries, I saw a drop of blood fall from the left side of my face.  I couldn't see or feel it, so I took a selfie with my phone.  

This is what I saw.
I saw that my ear was bloody. I kind of wanted to keep riding, but I still couldn't see how bad the damage was.  I took a photo of a big puffball nearby before I left, and rode to a convenience store a couple of blocks away.  
The dark tree in the center, a Black Cherry, is the one I hit.  It remains unimpressed.  And, no, the black spot is not where my head hit it.

Too bad I wasn't able to harvest this puffball.

I went into their bathroom.  With one look I could see that my ear was shredded.  No more fun riding for me that day.  I rode about 10 blocks to the walk-in clinic at Blessing Hospital in Quincy.  I parked my bike in the waiting room and called Stacey.  She was done with regular church service by then, and drove down to meet me.  While we were waiting in an exam room I went to the mirror and took my earring out.  The bead was missing from the hoop.  It was at this point I realized that the little hoop, which I've worn for many years, had caught the rough surface of the tree and nearly been ripped out.  There was a thin flap of skin holding it in.  The physician (Dr. Joseph Lane) shot me up with Novocain, spent a lot of time rinsing debris out of my wound, and sewed it up with 9 sutures.  I loaded the bike on the car, we went to lunch and home.

A close-up Stacey took before I was worked on.       My Frankenstein look after sutures.

Other injuries include the visible scrapes on my cheek and neck, and a bruise to the side of my jaw.  I took a hard pedal strike to my left calf, which I didn't really feel until the next day.  I also jammed my right thumb, spraining the big joint.  It still hurts a month later, and provides a reminder of my mortality every time I use it.  (still hurts a year later).

In retrospect, it was lucky that I wasn't going very fast off that drop, but if I had, it's more likely that I'd have landed straight.  I've also since watched videos on how to take a drop, and I definitely wasn't doing it right.  I've now practiced a bit on small ones.  It's not hard.  

I bought my first bike helmet in college, a Skid-Lid that I wish I still had.  Then I bought a Giro, the type with a dense foam body and fabric shell over the top.  After that I think it was another Giro with the plastic outer, but that cracked when I dropped it.  I bought the green Bern that I now use for most road rides.  About 10 years ago I bought a Tony Hawk signature Bell helmet for skateboarding, as I was learning to have Big Guy pull me around on a longboard.  It had been scratched up, so a month ago I repainted it with a giant schnauzer theme.  That's the one I was wearing, and it saved my ass.  Or head.  In 40 years of wearing a helmet, I've never had a serious bike crash of any kind, much less one with a head impact.  I'm sure I would have had to have a scan of some kind and a hospital stay if I hadn't been wearing a helmet.  There's a complacency that develops, in which some part of you believes that a type of event cannot happen if it has not ever happened.  I'm over that now.  I was lucky in many ways.  I'd rather not crash a road bike and have many square centimeters of road rash.  If I had hit the tree straight on, I'd have broken my nose and jaw.

The modified Tony Hawk helmet after the crash.

A lot of serious mountain bikers use full-face helmets.  After some research I found that a lot of models are just not available now because of the pervasive supply chain problem.  Nashbar.com had some reasonable ones, even in a color scheme that matched my bike, but the high end ones were out of my price range.  I held off on purchasing, and when I checked back on Black Friday they had a high end model on clearance in my price range and size.  I ordered it immediately, even though the color scheme did not match my bike.  When it arrived, I could not believe how light it was.  It's lighter than even the Bell above.  Carbon fiber and kevlar--what an age we live in.

The new noggin protector.


Postscript
I've since ridden the bike a few times, including a couple of long and technical rides.  I rode conservatively, and have had no accidents.  I always ride with a friend when doing this type of trail riding, and the helmet works great.

The wounded ear is nearly healed.  It looks like I'll have a permanent crease in that ear lobe.  I've already had the other ear pierced so that I can maintain the illusion of coolness.


Tuesday, August 2, 2022

Eulogy for Miss Kitty

 


With the death of our first Giant Schnauzer, Big Guy, in 2014 we sought another of the same breed.  A friend connected us to a breeder in Indiana, and we drove out over Christmas break to pick up Kitty.  She was a retired show dog.  Having earned her title and produced two litters, her work was done at 6 years old.  She had previously been adopted out to an elderly couple, but she proved to have too much personality for them to handle, and they returned her.  We were soon to find out why.  

Honestly, I wasn't impressed with her when we met.  She was loud, bossy, and possibly reactive. When we got her home, she had a tiff with Gretchen right away, so I didn't think she was going to fit in.  For about the first week, I was prepared to take Kitty back to Indiana. She was nothing like the mellow Big Guy, but more like most members of her breed, it turned out. It would be a while before we bonded.  

Miss Kitty was what we call loyal.  She was playful and affectionate with us, but not so much with strangers.  She used to jump in bed and cuddle with me, often lying partly on top of me. She would sometimes climb into my chair with me to become an 85-pound lap dog. She was always willing to give me a series of puppy kisses, and for her whole life she never had bad breath. Eventually, we bonded and she became a favorite.

On the other hand, she was hard to take out in public. Many of our friends never met her. She might bark and lunge at anyone she didn't know, especially a tall man with a hat or beard.  She was majestic, imposing, and beautifully regal in appearance, but fearsome when aggressive.  Her long, pointy ears made her look like Batman. Her beard, brows and teeth completed the ensemble, and her bulging muscles backed it up.  She scared a lot of people in her lifetime, it's fair to say.  But she never bit anyone, drew blood or made a bruise.  The most she accomplished was to nibble on hands. One time a friend recommended that we try her out for a part in a local theater production, which needed a large, hairy dog in a play.  I said, "You're not familiar with her work, are you?"  She had no prey drive, and was not much interested in digging for moles, chasing chickens or similar pursuits.  In the last few years of her life she mellowed considerably, tolerating strangers fairly well.  We had guests over the morning of the day she died, and she was perfectly gentle with them.

She was fearless and absolutely dominant among dogs.  She never lost a game of tug-of-war.  She sometimes wouldn't tolerate other dogs play fighting, jumping in to break up their shenanigans.  All dogs had to respect her space or face consequences.  If she was sleeping and another dog touched her, she would growl, giving rise to the expression, "Don't bump the grump".  She even did that to us in our own bed!   She did play with dogs, however, when she was in the mood.  In the photo album linked below, there are some videos of her chasing the sisters when she was young. She often would attempt to play with new foster dogs, soliciting them by stomping her feet.  There's a video of her doing this with Farley, a young Giant Schnauzer.  Frequently, she was just too intimidating for them to engage her.  She did love playing with balls and other toys, but she could reduce most toys to shreds, bits and pieces in almost no time. For a while we had red ball that lit up and talked in an electronic voice.  She would carry that thing around and look like a demon.  She like to grab a random toy and take it outside every time she went out the door.  She was not so good at bringing them back in, resulting in a net accumulation of toys outdoors.  I always had to do a thorough survey of the grounds before mowing the lawn.

She played a game that the other dogs hated.  She would bull her way to the front when it was time to go outside.  She'd be the first out the door, turn around and challenge every dog as it came out.  I called it, "Kitty bar the door."  Some dogs, like Indigo, refused to go out, and I would have to step onto the porch and play defense for them to exit.  I should mention that I never saw her make contact with one of the other dogs with her nipping. Like most of her games, it was a bluff.  Only in her later years would she tolerate any guff from the other dogs.  Luna might nip at her beard, and Kitty would just turn her head aside.  Most of the time. Again, I never saw her injure another dog.

It is a testament to her genetics, breeding and perhaps stubbornness that she lived so long.  Thirteen and a half years is a stretch for a breed that averages 10-12.  Big Guy died at 7.  I began collecting photos of her for the album below about 5 years ago when we were nearly certain she was dying of lymphoma. Miraculously, she recovered. She survived several other brushes with death, including toe cancer, squamous cell carcinoma, and a mammary cyst. We used to say she was the only dog we knew missing a toe and a tit.  When recovering from the mammary surgery, she tore the stitches out, leaving a sizeable open hole at the incision, and bleeding all over the kitchen floor.  We put a green, plastic cone of shame on her to prevent her getting at it again. She used this cone as a battering ram everywhere she went. You did not want to get hit by it as she ran. By the time she was healed, it was destroyed.

One day I saw her run across the front porch and pull up lame.  She had torn an ACL.  She was already too old to be a logical candidate for the surgery, so we had her fitted for a custom brace.  She wore it for a few months and recovered on her own.  Arthritis contributed to failing hindlimbs.  I even bought her a butt sling to help get her into vehicles.  She hated it.  She tore the other ACL.  Like another miracle, she healed on her own.  She never lost the ability to walk, get up off the floor, or even climb stairs.  Though her once-massive thigh muscles had atrophied terribly, she remained functional.  She got smarter.  When the other dogs were running and playing outside, she would wait for them to run past her and snap at them. She still had to show them who was boss. 

Miss Kitty was a mischievous rascal and, like most giants, an expert counter surfer.  I don't recall all of the things she stole and ate, but one that stands out was the time, in her later years with failing hips, she used a foot stool to reach the kitchen counter to consume some Chex mix set out to dry.  

I never attempted to earn any titles with her, but we did some dog sports. While training the other dogs for agility, I got her to jump the bar.  A couple of times I took her out in the snow with me on cross-country skis.  As a show dog, she was trained not to pull, so I had to do most of the work myself, but we both had fun.  I also had her pull me on the skateboard once, and she did surprisingly well.  Miss Kitty was retired from the show ring, but she had one job to do for us: guard dog.  She was so reliable and trustworthy that we let her have the run of the house (except kitchen) while we were gone. We knew she wouldn't chew anything up or mess anywhere. All the other dogs were crated (except Gretchen, whose vigilance was part of the guarding effort).  We figured with Kitty present, only an idiot would try to enter our house.  One of the UPS drivers used to throw the packages up on the porch and run back to the truck.  She was 100% successful in this work.  Our house was never broken into.

Her favorite foods included chicken (especially raw), and butter.  One time she got ahold of a can of cheese whiz, which we use to give pills to reluctant dogs.  By the time she was done, that can looked like it had been shot with a full clip of .22-caliber bullets.  Interestingly, her teeth remained remarkably clean, and she never lost any, though several were quite worn by the end.

Among her habits were lying down with her paws crossed--a very regal pose.  Often she would get a drink of water then walk over and put her dripping beard in my lap.  In our previous home, she refused to go down the stairs to the basement.  We would always have to run her around the outside to the back door, even in subzero temperatures. She was so dominant that she would sometimes lift her leg while peeing.  She loved to travel, and would jump into the back of my car at any opportunity.  She loved camping too.  She always crossed her front paws when lying down, creating an elegant look.

We gave her various drugs, including CBD, with her food to help her deal with the pain in her hips. These would typically leave her in a food coma, and she would sleep hard after a meal. She fooled us many times: she'd be so still we would think she was dead and have to look hard to see her breathing.  We were watching the last stage of the Tour de France on YouTube on a Sunday night.  The race was over, and trophies were being given. Kitty was sleeping on the floor between Stacey on the couch and me in my recliner. Stacey got up to let all the dogs out for the last time of the day.  Kitty didn't get up.  That's not unusual.  I went over to check on her and her legs were already stiff.  She had died peacefully in her sleep. We have been saying for years now that every day with Kitty was a blessing.  Giants just don't live that long. She could go at any time.  But we still weren't ready for her to leave us.  As with everything in her life, she did it her way.  She didn't do it when we were on vacation a month ago.  She didn't do it while I was riding RAGBRAI.  I had been back less than 24 hours.  She had enjoyed her last meal. She was with her people and her pack.  She chose her time.  This was her final gift to us.  We interred her body in our private pet sematary in the middle of a small grove of Paw Paw trees out back.  I had to dig a really big hole. She has her own marked stone. 

There are a large number of images and a few short videos in the photo album linked below. Click on the little circled letter "i" to see a caption for each pic.  I hope that it conveys what a sweet, funny and impressive dog she was. Ch Fanta C's Gunsmoke's Leading Lady (7 December 2008 - 31 July 2022), we are ever grateful that you were part of our lives.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/GCEMAvVs71GP2H7t9


Wednesday, January 13, 2021

Eulogy for Gretchen

Gretchen was our first schnauzer.  I know it was 2009 because I had just gotten back from Ruby. Our hunting dogs had both died within the past year, so we were dogless.  I didn't even want another dog, at least for awhile.  We had found a miniature schnauzer wandering stray at the market down the street.  Stacey and Savannah had decided to keep it, but the real owners came by that day to pick her up. They were so upset that I said, "Fuck that; we'll get our own dog." Stacey and I drove down to St. Louis and adopted a white miniature schnauzer puppy almost identical to the stray.  She was named Gretchen, and we ultimately decided to keep the name. When we got back to Canton, we stopped at Orscheln's where Savannah was working.  It was instant love between the two, and they always had a special relationship thereafter. We bought a crate and took her home.  She had a cold when we got her, and a steadily runny nose as a result.  She got over that quickly.  She didn't bark for about the first week.  Boy did that change.  She was so playful.  I used to throw the ball for her over and over, often while sitting in my easy chair.  She never seemed to tire of the game.  

Her feistiness was hard to handle.  I stopped her from play-biting by flicking her under the chin with my middle finger as hard as I could.  She didn't like to be picked up and would still growl whenever we did.  She liked to play rough, and she loved it when I'd wrestle her and get her all wound up.  On the other hand, she loved people.  She never met anyone she didn't go up to for affection.  She was quite fast and agile in her youth, but as she aged, her hips betrayed her and even walking became a challenge at times.  She didn't swim very well, though she loved playing in the water.  She would attack the water, biting the surface like it was the enemy.  She liked to go on walks, but when she walked with Savannah and got a bit tired, she'd lie down in the shade and refuse to go on.  Savannah would have to carry her the rest of the way.  Gretchen was great at skatejoring.  I used to harness up her and Big Guy to pull me around on a longboard. She would pull as much as him, and more consistently.  

She had tremendous play drive too, and scored a few kills on mice during her life.  One time she pounced on a spider an ate it.  Then immediately threw it up.  She never did that again. One time I was about to feed a mouse to my snake, so I let Gretchen kill it first. I'm certain she enjoyed that, and I don't regret it. She was always fearless, and largely immune to pain.  Typical of schnauzers.  Ever the watchdog, she barked at every car that came up the drive. She had a particular hatred of horses.  She'd bark like crazy when the Amish came by.  We used to take her garage saling with us, and we had to make sure to park away from horses so she wouldn't go nuts.  She had a similar hatred for the vacuum cleaner, and taught that to Big Guy.

She was full of mischief.  If she got a hold of a roll of toilet paper, she would shred it to bits.  She loved to roll in mud puddles and run through wet grass.  Her cream-colored hair was often tainted with natural dyes. One year we were going to walk in the St. Patrick's day parade with her, so Stacey dyed her hair bright green. The parade was rained out, and Gretchen was green for two months. She traveled with us on our vacation to South Dakota, and we took her everywhere with us because she couldn't stand to be left in the car or the hotel room.  I got kicked out of one store at Wall Drug for carrying her around.  Our first night we all spent the night in a tent during a near-tornado.

One time we drove across the state of Missouri to see the Snowy Owls.  We saw them, but we had bought the Chinese chicken treats that ended up being bad, and she threw up all over Stacey.  We took her and Big Guy to Nebraska to see the Sandhill Cranes.  They were well behaved in the hotel room, and didn't even bark at the birds.  She loved camping, but she always had to ride in the passenger's lap.  Often she would stand on the armrest, hit the button and make the window go down. She always wanted to go for a ride.  You couldn't leave a car door open or she'd jump in, which she did many times while we unloaded Stacey's car.

When we got Big Guy, our 100-lb Giant Schnauzer, she ignored him for about a week.  Then she started to play with him.  After that, they became best friends for a long time.  They played rough and chased balls, even though she was only about 21 pounds.  At some point, near the end of his life, she stopped playing with Big Guy.  I don't know if he accidentally stepped on her or what, but after that point she responded only with aggression when he tried to play with her.  

When we first got the Sisters of Chaos, Gretchen did play with them a bit, running around the back yard.  She would also attempt to play with foster dogs, especially the minis.

Gretchen was a very smart dog, and learned the usual obedience commands, like sit, stay, come.  I taught her a couple of tricks that were kind of fun.  She could do the poison treat trick, where I could put a treat down and she wouldn't take it until I said ok.  She could also stand on her hind legs and spin around to get a treat.

After Big Guy got sick, she would eat his leftover food.  She ballooned after that, and never really got  down to her fighting weight.  She played less than she did in her youth, but I could always get her to play ball with me outside.  She was always a loud snorer; you could hear her from across the room.

She loved our new place out in the country.  She especially like forcing her way through the clematis and common violets under the little windmill, and rolling in the spirea bushes.  A selfie of her and me has been my Google profile pic for years, and I'm not inclined to change it.

She had a couple of surgeries for benign tumors, but was otherwise healthy for much of her life. She did endure a nasty bout of pancreatitis after Miss Kitty knocked down a stick of butter that Gretchen then devoured. Sadly, she stopped eating one day (1/13/2021).  She had difficulty walking around, was obviously in difficulty and/or pain. We took her in to our trusted veterinarian.  Blood tests revealed anemia, and X-rays revealed a large splenic tumor.  She could have died any second if the tumor ruptured. The prognosis was very poor, options few, none of them good.  We elected to end her suffering.  We had expected her to make it more than 11 years, but, on the other hand, she had a great life.

We tried her at Barn Hunt practice. I thought she would attack the rat cage, but she seemed to learn that she could not get to it, and lost interest.  We tried to get her a CGC title, but she couldn't be cool around strangers.  She would have to run up to them to be petted.  Dear Gretchen. You were unregistered, not even a color recognized by AKC. You never earned any titles or certificates, unlike those that came after you, but you set the stage for them to do so, and will always be first in our hearts, Schnauzer Prime.

To see an insane number of cute photos of Gretchen Marie, look here: https://showmejoe.blogspot.com/2021/01/eulogy-for-gretchen.html