Electronic Mayhem

 

Washington Crossing PA Sunset

4 August 2023

After the previous week's battery chaos, I'd been checking Janice's charge as if she were on suicide watch. After the Belmar century, she was sitting at 90%. I thought that was low for so few miles, but it was definitely enough to get me through Wednesday's Premed ride.

When I checked Janice's battery status the following Tuesday morning, she was still at 90%. I checked again when I got home from work late Wednesday afternoon. "Low battery," my GPS told me, in ominous red letters. I rushed her over to the charger. Half an hour later, when it was time to leave for the ride, she was up to 60%. Good enough.

Our Jeff packed in the miles that day. We got back to the parking lot with the sun low in the sky. 

"The sunset!" Luis called out, gesturing to me to get my camera. I haven't been bringing it on these rides. There's no time for photographs. 

Still in my cycling shoes, I waddled across the grass to get a few pictures. 

We were in a heat wave. That Saturday was beastly humid. Neither Tom nor I scheduled an official ride. Some woke up early enough to get to a 7:00 a.m. start. Not me. I rolled out of bed long after they'd rolled out of Cranbury. 

Thinking that I had to do something, I took Janice out for a short muffin run to Boro Bean. It didn't feel as oppressive as I'd thought it would. It only occurred to me that I was soaking wet as I was finishing the ride. In the 27-mile round trip, I managed to nearly empty both water bottles. 

The heat wave broke that night, but I still felt the effects of it the next day, when Tom led a ride out of Yardley into the Sourlands. He'd peeled me and the Premeds off of Plain Jim's ride, which Jim took in stride. Jim wound up with a full ride anyway, so no harm done. 

Janice was at 90% charge after about 70 miles. That seemed low for such a short distance, but it was enough for the day.

I wasn't sure how my back would do, so I deliberately dialed down my effort. I found myself in the rear of the pack on the Sourland climbs.

Tom had initially planned to take Stony Brook. Pete G, up on his island in the Saint Lawrence River, reminded us that the bridge over Zippy Creek was still out. Tom changed the route to go around by way of Van Dyke. At the start of the ride, he decided we'd take a look at the bridge and make a judgment call then. 

Well, it was a gaping hole. That didn't stop us. Zippy Creek is a tiny, shallow thing. Those of us who had them put our cleat covers on, hoisted our bikes on our shoulders, and climbed down the embankment one at a time. 

The water level was low enough that we stepped on rocks and kept our feet dry. We climbed up the other side, digging our shoes into the loose dirt and cleaning them off when we reached pavement again.

We've crossed worse.

The break did me some good. My legs felt better when I got back on the bike.

Our rest stop was at Union Coffee in Lambertville. There, Heddy and I hatched a plan to look into renting a car for the Nova Scotia trip. It's the logistics that are giving me bad dreams. I'm not looking forward to driving two thousand miles by myself. If we could carpool with a van or something, we'd save money on the ferry and be able to share the driving. 

We walked over the bridge into New Hope, got on our bikes again to climb out of the valley, and encountered yet another closed road.

This one had a full deck and people on it. We did our thing.

Soon we were in Our Jeff's Wednesday night turf.

"We're going up Thompson Mill," he said, from the opposite side that we're used to. "It's a hill," he warned me.

"Duly noted," I said. It was easier in this direction.

The ride ended with a handful of miles southbound on River Road. River Road is where Big Joe died. I do not like riding on River Road. I took all the energy I'd saved, shifted to the big ring, and hammered all the way back to Yardley. I had Len and a few others for company.

From Yardley, I went straight to Hart's, where Casper, the Knower of All Things Electronic Bike, opened an app and stated that Janice needed a passel of firmware upgrades. While those were churning, we tried to figure out what had been happening. The derailleur battery was checking out fine. Best we could figure, it was a firmware glitch giving me erroneous readings, and that the upgrades would correct this. It sounded strange to me, but what do I know? 

He moved on to checking the shifter batteries and firmware. The batteries were fine; the firmware needed updating. While he was doing that, I turned on my GPS. It's how I'd been checking status lately, because I get a percentage readout instead of either a steady green or blinking green light.

As soon as I did that, the shifter he was working on stopped communicating with the derailleur. I turned the GPS off. The derailleur responded.

"Don't use your GPS to check the battery," Casper said. I guess the poor bike can't handle talking to two devices at once if they're both asking the same question. Once I'm rolling, I can always switch to the gear status screen and see the battery charge without a problem. I just shouldn't try to wake up the shifting system while my GPS is also searching for it. "It's a Garmin problem," he suggested. 

He showed me how to switch GPS screens by pressing a button on the top of the shifter lever. "That'll keep my greasy fingers off the screen," I said. It'll help in the winter, too, when my gloves are too thick for me to do anything on the screen. 

"Your batteries are at 100%," he said. So now I know to check Shimano's web page for upgrades and go back to Casper when they start to add up. He warned my not to try to upgrade at home. "You can really screw things up," he said. Got it.

I took Miss Piggy to work on Monday. I felt dizzy when I woke up on Wednesday morning. It passed. Janice held her charge for me by Wednesday evening.

Our Jeff had 30 miles planned this time. We're starting to lose light already. He had a couple of big hills in the mix. 

My energy level is much higher when I've had two meals and a big snack. Despite that and a more back-friendly fit, I still felt out of place and a level of social discomfort I don't feel on Hill Slug, Bike Posse, or Plain Jim rides. I still feel as if I'm there merely to train for the Nova Scotia trip, which is still more than a year away. I still feel as if I have to prove myself, both physically and socially. 

Elaine said of the Janice Muppet affixed to my saddle bag, "You need to switch Janice out for Barbie."

No, I don't. "Why?"

"Because Barbie is cool now!"

As we rolled to a stop at an intersection, I said, "Janice was cool long before Barbie ever was."

I found myself thinking about the trip, about being with these people for two weeks a thousand miles from home. I felt as if I were in two places at once, or no place at all, as if I were in a dream. 

The feeling broke when we crossed Durham Road onto Wrightstown Road, the start of the 4-mile descent into Washington Crossing. I'd gotten over the hills. It was time to work the big ring.

I hammered, sometimes trading places with a couple of the guys, but mostly from the front. I was thinking, "Caaaaaaanonbaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllll!"

Out of nowhere, Our Jeff zipped past us. All I could think of was all the guys I've ridden with over the past 23 years who could not bear to have a woman in front of them. Our Jeff is not one of those people, but Janice doesn't know that. I dropped into my fastest gear and passed him. 

Heddy chided me at the bottom of the hill. "I don't wanna hear you say 'I don't know if I can do this,' Janice."

I said, "Caaaaaaanonbaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllll!"

Janice was still at 100% charge. My back didn't hurt after the five mile downhill sprint.

We went for dinner at It's Nutts. While we were waiting for our food, I felt the room spinning around me again. This is a sign of overtraining. It hasn't happened to me for years. 

There was more talk about getting a rental car, not just for three of us, but for five. Now we have to figure out if this is possible with five people and five bikes. At least I'm being included in that number this time. I left It's Nutts feeling better about the whole thing.