Back in the saddle again

My road bike languished in my garage for the better part of three years.  Its components were worn out, I had started collecting parts and brought it to a local shop, which told me that the frame was cracked, which sent me back to square one.  In the meantime, wasps built nests in the crank bolts and pedal spindles and the frame and fork served as a forlorn ornament hanging from the rafters.

Further research, however, revealed that the frame was not in fact cracked, but procrastination and other projects prevented me from putting the bike back together.  I was going to get to this project earlier this year -- like spring time -- but only recently was the project finished, thanks to help from Iride in Stowe.

Resurrected:  My 11 year-old, size 52 cm, Chinese-made titanium, Habanero road bike. 
After years of inelegantly hammering on my undergeared rigid mountain bike it feels very strange to get out on a road bike again.  The muscle memory of sitting in the saddle and trying to be smooth and keep a high cadence -- especially climbing -- is almost all gone.  And there have been some issues getting the new drivetrain parts to work together:  the photo is from an aggressive chain degreasing/re-lubing session.

I haven't had any close calls with cars yet, but with distracting personal technology even more prevalent now then when I last was out on the roads, I wonder if it is only a matter of time.  It is disconcerting to do something perfectly innocent -- ride a bike -- but to know that it is a bit like playing the lottery with potentially catastrophic consequences.
A tour of devastation along the Winooski and Mad River valleys in Vermont.  It is strange to ride along local river valleys and see debris from the flood high in the treetops, gutted homes and collapsed bridges, silent testimony to the passing of Irene.

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