Thursday, December 3

One last place. Few more things.



I have such good memories here.  Like that one time I raced Duo at the 12 hours of Santos with terrible back pain.  That time I sliced open a brand new 27.5 X 2.8 Rekon on day one of our trip.  That other time The Real Florida Man dragged me out past the land bridge, and introduced me to Jai Lai and Cuban sammiches.  Okay, that last one was pretty good.

Drop The Pie off at the hotel so she can read by the pool, get over to the Santos parking lot, start getting ready to ride and...

sad face.

I had stopped at a Dollar Tree to pick up some Awesome Cleaner for my ultra-sonic parts washer and get some cheap sunglasses for The Pie because she broke hers, and she only travels with one pair?  Well, the lid on one of the 32oz bottles had come off and completely soaked the trunk liner.  Not much I can do about that now, but my brain is going to be itching for awhile.  

Get my shit together, head out, and because a lot of the trails are two way, keep the music low or off.  My bike is now yelling at me.  Disturbing creaks and groans and popping noises, made all the worse when I pick a black trail like John Brown, with all it's steep, punchy climbs.

I'm pretty sure I know what's wrong.  I'd done myself like this at the Breck Epic years ago... and I thought I'd learned a lesson.  When the rear I9 Torch hub develops some play, it's a good idea to check the single row bearing in the free hub.  Just because it's a good idea doesn't mean I did it a couple months ago when I mounted these backup wheels on the Vertigo Meatplow V.7 and noticed a small amount of wiggle.  As a matter of fact, I might just popped the seals on all the accessible bearings and repacked them with fresh grease... and then ignored the play.

I made my way over the the Vortex area...

The dirt jumpers down in the pit may or may not have been playing Down With the Sickness over a very loud speaker.

They totally were, but probably to drown out the horrid noises that the tiny little single speeder was making as he made his way around in the woods.  I was doing my best to have a good time enjoying all the member berries from rides past, but knowing that each pedal stroke was probably doing more damage that would require even more effort to fix?

If you've ever tried to pull a bearing and it ended up exploding into tiny bits leaving you with a recalcitrant outer race that hates you, then you know what I was trying to avoid when I cut my ride short at ten miles, taking the easiest trails back to the car.

What followed was a sad me rinsing a disgusting trunk liner in a hotel shower (and mebbe dripping all the way through the lobby and mebbe staining the carpet in the elevator).  A rather okay walk with The Pie in the limiting sprawl of Ocala.  A drive home on Thanksgiving on uncrowded highways.  Cooking salmon, potatoes, and asparagus... and occasionally leaving them unattended so I could get a look at the inside of my free hub...

And of course I was too late and the inner race and all the tiny balls fell out meaning that I needed to remove all the pawls and springs and bang out the outer race and replacing the entire bearing (and the non-drive side for good measure) and putting everything all back together after mashing the potatoes.

During our trip, I was fortunate to get two good rides in, two not so good but better than no rides, and a whole lotta time with The Pie doing what we do when we travel like adults without kids.

The end.


Anonymous said...

Curious why you call your wife “the pie”? Does she read your blog? Ha! Thanks for the distraction from daily life!

dicky said...

It's a long story involving a t-shirt she owned two decades ago.

Long story.