Laptop Round Up for The Real Update & a stupid thing happened while I was on a mountain bike trail ride

Luiguuy, originally from Haiti met me uptoon on Friday to collect the first three computers donated to the Laptop Round up for the Real. 

Two of the computers on board in the backseat of Luiguuy's first generation minivan from the late seventies came from Indianapolis and were sent in by Bill Williams and his wife.  The third one in the big brown box was gifted by Rob C., and carried on the back of my little buddy who is about to use a photo of my wayward cap as some sort of blog ante upping.  So, on Friday three of the twelve committed laptops thus far started the journey towards Barbancourt north of Port Au Prince.  Over the next month to six weeks I will be meeting Luiguuy again to drop off the rest of the donations in groups of three.  I am short of my goal, but what I am learning is that without barriers, it always works out.  This project for on the ground real nuts and bolts help is moving forward, send me a laptop and I will hook you up...

Real Ride Story to Unbelievable to be True, but it is.

Early today I lifted my perpetual ban on paying to ride at the U.S. Brown Water Center.  Just one time I would give five in God we trust units to spend three hours on my mountain bike alone in the woods that I rode first a long, long time ago.  She took my cash, the paper nickle then under those heavy power lines I drove.  I could feel the electromagnetic pulse of a mcmillion kilowatts diving down towards ground through the roof of my UN Montero and my skull.

Holy shit, this place truly cracks me out.  I jumped on the bike within a few minutes of arriving realizing that this was going to be a fun three hour transfer. On the way to the 'trail head' half way under the wire crossing a small amount of voltage, or is it amperage  jumped from my gloved fore finger on my right hand to the brake lever I was about to touch. Yikes, that burned like a six volt on the tongue or a bit worse.  Yeah worse.  Pay to park and be zapped, that should be their toon jingle.

Then onto the ride, it would have to get better right?  The weather was perfect, no one was there because they were all racing their little hearts out or cooling it up over at Renaissance.  Down and under across, my first lap started with Metallic in my ears streaming constant on the mountain top removal battery up load.  Fast, like a machine gun from the old days.  Not as fast as I felt, around the lap fighting it the whole way to the new green trail which offered nothing technical at all, however I found the extension a pastoral gift I had not seen before.

One of the many few things good about riding alone is that after an hour and a half without stopping you can go around again without even putting a foot down.  Time passes slowly after the first thirteen miles and the sun moves at least a thousand times more in an outward push from its beginning.  Back around this time I finally saw and passed some people on bikes traveling the trail.  I was fighting with too much effort, sweating too much, and having to stand up on the climbs way earlier than I was used to.

Then it happened.  About half way around on my second lap with a slightly loopy head, I stood up on a short inside left steep and my small right ear phone pumping Micheal Jackson's, Annie are you okay that I misheard over and over as Annie are you walking into my brain housing group fell out and onto my shoulder.  I could hear my surroundings for the first time since I left after plugging myself in the form of an active decision to separate myself from the sensory world around me.  And what I heard was the most annoying thing you could imagine.

It sounded like resistance, in the form of a brake pad against the front disc.  I decided to wait till I got to the top of the climb for the second time in a day to make the inspection.  It was sad.  I spun the fat tire wheel forward and watched in shock as it ground to a halt in about three inches of rotation.  You have to be kidding me, I first thought to myself, no wonder why this ride has been more difficult than an afternoon at Catawba is supposed to be. 

When I looked down the problem became visually apparent, my front wheel was not all the way in the fork.  That's right, I had tightened the wheel in and it was not straight at all.  It looked like the lawyer tab on the right side had gotten in my way when I was bent over the bike putting the wheel in. And I, oblivious with the sound of music in my head brought my own disconnection to the world around me.

Ultimate Bike Shop for the fix.  New tiny Spacers, and zero'ing the pistons makes for a happy front brake.

One of the down sides to riding alone is that there was no one there to laugh at me and my lack of awareness other than myself.   The hundred year old or more smooth bark American Beech Trees at the river front are absolutely amazing.