Gracie’s Wrench

Some students stick with you, are particularly fun to see every week and stay in touch long after class is over.

Leslie’s been one of the best. She’s 100% inspiration to me from day one of meeting her. She’d show up to our Sunday class armed with coffee and chock full of stories of what she’d been up to since that morning. Usually this involved mountain or road biking AND wind surfing AND maybe a hike for good measure.

This was all in one day.

This was all before driving an hour to Portland to take the 6pm class with her husband, who somehow managed to keep up with her.

Recently she sent me a nice note sharing some of her experiences. She says it better than I ever could and asks an important question:                                                                                                                             “What kind of example are you setting?”

Just checking in to thank you again for such a great class. Was riding a few weekends ago in Hood River.  I was on my own. I came across two separate groups of ladies who were riding. They were hanging in grass along the roadside, attempting to fix flats.  They couldn’t do it and were trying to call spouse’s/friends to come get them, but no cell coverage. They weren’t too worried, just bummed.  One woman had bent the crap out of her rear wheel trying to get it out of the drops. She successfully got the tire off, put the fresh tube in and then broke the stem off trying to pump the tire up (okay–I have done that before!) using a mt. bike pump.

I was able to fix flats and few other things for both groups. I politely chided the ladies for being so pathetic/helpless/embarrassing to “our kind”.  One group didn’t even have a pump. “I usually ride with people who know what they are doing” they all said.  I asked if any of them have children, especially daughters. Some said “yes”. “What kind of example are you setting?” I asked them.

I suggested that they all take your class.  I told them if I see them again on that ride or any other ride, I would ride on by them. We all got a good laugh out of it!  I saw them all later in downtown Hood River and they bought me a beer.  My hands were still covered in grease and theirs looked great.  No matter.

Right on Leslie. Thanks for being a super hero of the highest magnitude. I think I owe you a beer, too.

This Tuesday I got an unexpected email from Joe, one of my students.
Here’s what he had to say:

Hi Tori:

As I told you last Saturday, my wife and I have been involved in Haiti for a long time. Now, because of the earthquake, (the worst in Haiti in 200 years) Medical Teams International has asked us to go in-country on a disaster response team.  It looks like we are going in on this Thursday; if so, I’ll have to take a rain-check.

This sweet, soft-spoken student had off-handedly mentioned helping out in Haiti during our last class.

Sometimes I get into the lives and times of my students.  More often I know what rides they like best, or if they have a dog they had to take out before class and that’s about the extent of it. I don’t assume too much and enjoy getting to know each of my students mostly through their experiences with their bikes. In this case I had assumed he visited Haiti occasionally to do some kind of volunteer work with orphan children. Something nice.  Something kind but not too dangerous.

After reading an article on the relief movement in the Oregonian, I realized that he was one of six doctors and nurses that Medical Teams International was sending.
One of six.
His wife makes it two of six.
To a disaster area crumbled to the ground, mostly impassable, without food or water. Into a situation where the streets are filled with bodies.
Dead. Alive. Soon to be dead.
Thirsty with days of no water. Hungry beyond hunger.
The sheer numbers of victims and lack of basic survival—water, food, shelter—he and his wife are facing is beyond imagination, not to mention the risk in the midst of such instability.
Two lives to help hundreds of thousands.

I was overwhelmed with the thought of this gentleman, somewhere in his 50’s, heading out to face improbable odds.  The dissonance that this was my student. In class, Joe is self-apologetic and a bit fumbling. A guy who rides recreationally and just wanted to be a bit more “self sufficient”.

Self-sufficient?
I am humbled and awed.

So I ask that if you have not donated to a relief fund, or want to but are unsure of which to donate to, please consider Medical Teams International.
Help Joe and his wife help the people of Haiti.
They are only two, but we are many.

Click here to DONATE to Medical Teams International and read more about their efforts.

EDITOR’S NOTE: This article was published in the Oregonian today. Dr. Joe is actually 70 years old, the same age as my parents.

Fallen buildings in the Hatian aftermath.

So I teach and teach and most of the time don’t hear much from my students unless they have a crazy noise after our last class.  Some keep in touch and return to brush up on techniques or help with new builds.

I got this lovely email the other day that I want to share with you.  It made me grin from ear to ear.  There’s nothing like the validation that this is indeed a DIY class and you can take the wrench into your own hands to any extent you can imagine.

Thanks to Leslie for being such a great student and inspiration.  I’m not sure what’s scarier, taking on that many beater bikes or that may relatives.

Tori,

Okay, I have the “bug”.  Since taking your class I have overhauled 5 bikes.  All >20 years old.  All in marginal condition.  What fun.  A few things I couldn’t do.  So I took the bikes to a local shop in Hood River, Dirty Finger, and negotiated a rate for my bottom bracket repair on 2 of the bikes….  The guys up there are great…..   They like my “Shimano Biopace oval triple cranks” . . . did I say that correctly?

These are old steel frame mountian bikes from a long time ago. No shocks.  I converted them all to “townies” with upright bars (used) + higher-pressure tires + saddle bags (gargage sale).  Nice rides at this point.

Anyway, all good fun.  We had 18 family members visiting.  We had 11 functional bikes for people to take out riding/cruising.

I keep sending people your way.  Hope they show up.

You’re the best!

Leslie Root

PS-I “wrench” in my barbeque apron–not as cool as yours, but I’m clean!

(If anyone’s interested, I’ve got aprons for sale withthe Gracie’s Wrench logo for $10.  Drop me a line!)

I’ve been lucky enough to be working with the City of Portland Women on Bikes Program for the month of June.  For those of you who aren’t familiar, this is a program payed for by the citizens of our fine city to help promote women in cycling.  The founder of the program, Janice McDonald, is a true blue friend and bike hero of mine.  Years back when the city did it’s first cycling survey the results showed that a large majority of cyclists on the road were male. Janice, never one to shrug off inequality, decided to do something about it.  The Women on Bikes program was born.

For two Saturdays I was privileged to work with some of the newest cyclists in town.  Not a lot of spandex.  Not a lot of gear heads. Not an expert in the house (including myself).  Each woman was brave enough to step outside her comfort zone and show up to learn something that had mystified them, been just out of reach.  Maybe it was the one thing that was keeping them from riding. I was brave enough to try and help 35 of them at once.

It’s a common misconception that changing a flat tire is easy.  Nope.  It has more steps than almost any other process I teach.  Seeing each woman’s face light up when they are able remove their tires (most without the aide of a tire lever) is thrilling.  Just seeing one person no longer afraid to release their brakes or remove their wheels is a triumph.  My favorite part of the day is the non-stop cries of “Tori” during the hands-on portion because it means that there are questions.

And questions inevitably lead to discovery.

I hope every one of them learned something and hopefully rode away feeling more competent, more at ease, a little more ready to hit the road. I want to thank all those first-timers, all those amazing women who came to expand their horizons and in turn expanded mine.  And of course Janice McDonald for giving us all the opportunity.

My lesson for the summer: If you want to learn, teach.

I want two new words.  If you’d be ever so kind as to give me your suggestions, we might change the future of our cycling world.

The majority of the Americans consider “commuting” the daily drudge of heading to and from work. Period.

When it comes to cycling that’s just not the case.  I badly want more people on bikes but I don’t get very far when I describe riding to meet a friend for a cup of coffee or to New Seasons to get dinner as “commuting” to someone who doesn’t use a bicycle. These are trips we take free of the shackles of obligation. Commuting? Kill. Joy.

I’ll never forget when an old roommate of mine who raced and trained (while I “just commuted”) said, “Yeah, but you don’t really ‘ride’.” My hackles went up in defense.  My ego was bruised.  I did almost as many miles as she did per week but in small little doses. She DROVE most of the time for god’s sake.  I was out there in every Portland downpour and I didn’t “ride”?!

So maybe the solution isn’t just to find a new word for cycling as transportation but also for bikes as fitness recreation.  Fitness recreation.  Now how boring does that sound? Just one sweet word to describe the everyday athletes (if I might borrow liberally from my dearest Heidi Swift) of varying ability from the weekend warrior to the seasoned racer.

I believe less intimidating language would help bridge the gap to new riders. Get those folks out the door for a quick “toodle”.

No. That’s just too silly.

So what are they? I want two new words to define our world and I’m looking to you who are inside of it to shape them. If we’re successful we can all “ride” together regardless of intention or lycra.

And maybe, just maybe, we can convince a few more to hop on.

The good news: I found my Nite Rider charger (see the last post for details).  Right where I left it.  Where I thought I’d easily remember to find it in my temporary digs.  Plugged into the most obscure outlet in the house.  Hey, it was out of the way for when I needed it, right? Ahem.

Speaking of temporary (and loosing things) my sweet interim housing ends in March.  Let me know if you have any leads!

Today I repeat my ride of a few days ago to try and find my neck gator one more time.  Wish me luck.

Maybe it’s right where I thought I’d easily remember dropping it.

Welcome to 2009.  I waited to begin this project until things surrounding me were a bit more clear.  2008 had some lingering consequences and until the dust had settled one more obligation seemed like one too many.

Yesterday’s inauguration was a turning point for the nation and for myself.  I’ve adopted a very “yes I can” attitude, so welcome to my official new year.  I cried tears of joy and history for the entire hour of the inaugural ceremonies then spent the afternoon on a celebratory bike ride.  It was supposed to be a quick jaunt on my standard loop, out St. Johns to Hwy 30 north,  up Newberry,  over Skyline and back down Germantown before rolling in.

But I kept loosing things.

A quick note that I’m not someone who generally misplaces things.  I don’t forget my keys or wallet.  I can always find my phone.  My world is fairly mapped and plotted so generally, these things just don’t happen to me.  Until recently…. and now they happen all the time.  In the past month I’ve lost my Nite Rider charger for my front light, one glove, two water bottles, my neck gator (later recovered), my favorite travel mug, my nalgene bottle and various other scraps and bobbles of my life.  For someone who doesn’t loose things this is akin to loosing my mind.  Riding is where I calm the internal cacophony so off I went, full of hope for the future.

Newberry has a notoriously steep section. I thought I’d felt something hit my foot as I climbed but since I didn’t see anything I kept chugging along, trying to keep some semblance of a spin.  I arrived at the top missing a glove.  Back down, down, down.  It was waiting for me at the beginning of the steepest grade.  Great.  I guess I needed hill intervals in my training.

Back up I went.  I finally arrived at the top of Germantown ready for my descent and… no neck gator.  This would be the same neck gator that I’d just recovered a few days ago after it was lost for two weeks.  Sigh.  Okay, so back I went, past the two blue jean clad hipsters I’d passed on the way up, past the barking dog.  It was a beautiful evening for a ride yet all the backtracking in the world didn’t bring me the warmth, sanity or neck gator I was looking for. I returned home to the news that our new mayor, Sam Adams, lied to the public to help get elected.  The hope I’d experienced in the morning seemed to be slipping away into the cold and darkness of the approaching night.

Keeping the sunny side up, we still have a new President working for change.  Portland will keep chugging on new mayor or not.  I can get another neck gator, another water bottle. The economy can’t be horrid forever. Maybe losing stuff is my own little economic stimulus package since I’ll have to replace everything that I lose track of.  Who knows?  I had a fabulous ride, went further than I’d planned and experienced Newberry for the first time as a wicked descent.  I celebrated the election with friends and am looking forward to a year of teaching many new students how to love their bikes a little more and ultimately consult with enough companies to get more people than ever on two wheels.

I’d like to believe it’s less about what we gain or lose and more about the journey.  At least that’s the tripe I sell myself to stay sane and hopefully it’s trite but true.  Apparently this trip involves paring down and backtracking, replacing and new perspectives. Welome. I hope you enjoy the ride.

A place for you to get intimate with your bicycle, learn its ins and outs and give it the caring it deserves.

Learn about your bicycle, and it will teach you in return.

Riding is more than spinning wheels and pushing gears. It’s about independence and feeling safe on the road. It’s about putting the knowledge and power to shape your life in your own hands.

A natural extention of riding is wrenching.

Keeping your bicycle honed and on-point will do the same for you. That weird click? Sometimes can’t stop very well? It’s easy to ignore it until you can get to the shop but…

The ability to make diagnosis and perform repairs is within your means. You may not be able to fix everything, but you can walk away with the knowledge of most basic maintenance and repairs, decide when it’s time to consult the professionals, and gain the confidence to dive into the mysteries of one of your closest friends.

Make cycling a part of your lifestyle.

If you’re ready to make your business more bicycle friendly we offer clinics, workshops and consulting to encourage and empower cycling at your work place.