Of A Milestone and The Great Steel Workhorse

 

   I know I write too often about bikes and I was going to give you, my faithful readers, a small break, but FH and I hit a little milestone in our two-wheeled lives and I am just so proud of it, not for the number of miles or for the exercise benefits or anything of the sort, but for many reasons that I don't really feel I could or can fully express thoroughly enough with just words. I wouldn't normally share it if it were just numbers, a distance, or a goal met, but because it's not,  I feel a small necessity to share because I'd like you know a little about it. It may be my age or that I've moved past the mileage game, but I no longer feel the need or desire to tell of my runs or rides in terms of distance or speed, but rather in terms of what I've gained mentally or emotionally from these times when I escape to a world of simple tasks and am able to leave so many things behind and only hear the wind passing through my helmet or my seemingly always labored breathing. I still love to compete, but it feels that I am losing the desire to compete in the things I call my hobbies. Now, don't get me wrong, if I'm out on a run and see you up ahead, I'll still do my best to run you down or if I'm out biking and you're up ahead, I'll still try to catch you and attempt to pass you. That will always be in me.



     Ever since FH turned one and we were allowed to legally and weight-wise ride with him in a seat behind me, the whole act of riding has changed for me. Before this, riding was exercise and I was getting on the bike to try to become a more proficient rider hoping to one day become good at it. I have these visions, albeit delusional, of me being lean and great at riding like some of the guys I know. Guys who can ride a hundred miles in under 5 hours. Guys who are sponsored. Guys who ride hundreds of miles each day training for things called "Tours" or "Giros" in places like France, Italy, and Australia. However, from our very short and nervous ride to our last Sunday ride a few days ago, riding has become a true escape for me. The bike has and still continues to be a place were my life becomes composed again, even if its just for a short moment, of simplicity.  And it is this simplicity that I crave so much these days.

 



    Little FH was born a little over 2.5 years ago and it is no secret that our lives have been drastically been altered during this time period. Our little family has gone through more stress, loss, frustration, loneliness, and bitterness than I truly care to dwell on for long and this bike: a 1982ish Huffy Bay Pointe 3 Speed Mixte has been the exact opposite of all of that for me. No matter what is going on or has just taken place, I can grab my sweet boy FH, put a few things in our basket, and just ride. We never really have a destination and I've only ridden once when I cared anything about how fast we were going. There is never spandex, speed cadence meters, heart rate monitors, guilt from lack of mileage, etc. There isn't the stress of no burning enough calories. There is only a little boy, a diaper bag, a bottle of water, a few snacks, and me. And sometimes, our sweet Melissa rides with us and it is just three humans and four wheels smiling with the wind through out hair and everything feels right.  And it is always enough. And I cannot say that for any other area of my life. Every other area of my life feels like I am never enough or that I don't have what it takes. But sitting in the saddle of this Sears bike, it feels like I always have enough and that I have what it takes. I know this may sound lame or sound too sentimental, but I am only trying to write how I feel.

 

 

 

 

   And so about two weeks ago on a short and quick ride before dinner, FH and I headed out into the twilight hours, or what I've heard referred to as of late, as the golden hour, and attempted to hit a small milestone and after riding for about 25 minutes came to a stop in the middle of a small, heavily-rutted back road and had a brief and minor celebration. I celebrated the milestone and FH celebrated the Goldfish and cold water we shared with each other and the goats nearby. As of that moment, FH and I had ridden 500 miles together in 2014 in a wide range of places and on an even wider range of terrain.

 

    We have had early morning rides and night rides. We've ridden on bike trails and down busy four lane highways. We have ridden down city streets surrounded by a couple hundred thousand people that live there and we've ridden places where there the only sign of human existence was the small dirt road we were riding on. We have seen sunrises and sunsets. We've seen people kissing and fighting. We've crashed once and fallen off once. We've gotten four or five flat tires. We've had to call Melissa twice to come get us. We've run out of diapers a couple of times. We've laughed, tickled each other, cried, and both gotten angry at each other and situations. We've spotted animals, flowers, and once even rode in the moonlight next to a few deer who seem to be running with us for a few moments. We've been chased by dogs and cows and even once rode over a rattlesnake. We've picked up turtles, weeds, flowers, and fruit. We've been waved out, yelled at, cussed at, stared out, honked at, chased, and once even stopped and told to never be seen riding on a certain road. We've ridden inside and outside and once used the bike as our shopping cart. We've sweated and shivered. We snacked and even stopped several times to take a nap. We've played on more playgrounds that I can recall. We've even ridden and competed in a bike race and even came in first. Two guys on two wheels can see and experience a lot. And I wouldn't want to spend my time doing anything less.

 

 



 

 

  500 miles is a long way, but it feels as if I wish it weren't so short. It seems to be not enough. Our longest ride has been a Sunday afternoon 21 miler and our shortest is less than a tenth of a mile. We average about 10 miles an hour, but sometimes, it is more like 8 or 9. The ride is always what it needs to be and I never think later on of how we could have gone faster, longer, or how I could have ridden the ride or a section of the ride better or more proficiently. It is always enough. I'm sure you could ride that distance faster and with more grace. I'm sure your rig is nicer or cost much more. I'm sure you could ride that distance in far less time than it took us. I'm sure of all of all those things. But I care about it not at all. I respect your ability and FH and I'll cheer for you when you pass us with gusto. I'm sure about all those things because I know that you may be a better rider, on a better bike, but I also know that you don't have as good of a co-pilot as I do. And I wouldn't trade that component for anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DAVID





Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap

     * There are currently 20+ drafts sitting in the wings and someday I may finish them, but with how my current life is going, I'm not so sure of when that "someday" may be. It has taken me over three sad weeks just to finish this measly post. BUT...BUT...I really want to update this place. So, my plan is to just put out some quick (haha), short (hahaha) posts and maybe you'll enjoy some of those and I'll feel good about posting. So, here we go.

      Many months ago, I read a description of this soap on a website I check a little too often and knew I had to, in the very least, buy a bar of it and give it the old college try. (What does that last little bit mean any way?) I went ahead and bought two bars just in case I loved it and upon the arrival of my box, I immediately became oddly infatuated with the whole concept of the soap and became  that precocious kid who is walking around asking people to smell and touch whatever the newest thing that has caught their fancy. I made just about anyone who came over at least smell the box and some would be brave enough to get the bar out of the box and handle it. I, even went as far as, to bring the soap to school and show it to all my students who in return, for the most part, thought I was even weirder than previously thought. But some also became quickly attached to the smell and have sense told me that they too have made the same purchase.

     And as with most things with me, the whole idea of using the soap went from semi-normal to blown way out of proportion. I've been called an extremist before and all I'll really say is that I get it genetically from all sides of the gene pool and some from my surroundings. I began, in my mind, and then to my students doing these little advertising bits for the soap and with each bit, the soap and what it does got more and more absurd. And they sort of went like this:

"Have you ever been watching a John Wayne movie and wondered what a man like that used for soap or smelled like....

 

 

"...then use 'Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap'."

 

 

Or

 

 

"Have you ever wanted to be the type of man that walks with bears and claws their lifestyle out of the wilderness like Jeremiah Johnson...

 

 

...then try 'Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap'."

 

 

Or

 

 

"Have you ever wanted to smell like the kind of guy that could lead a nation into the extreme wilderness and have them survive off of locusts and manna and stretch out your arms and separate a sea....

 

 



 

 

 

...then try 'Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap'."

 

     You get the idea. I know, I know, it's just a soap, but the soap sort of emits this strange amount of strength from it and it's not just the heavy pine tar scent. It seems like once you begin using it, it feels as if you are going in the complete opposite direction as many of today's male grooming and metrosexual goops and lotions. It is as if you are using a soap you bought off a guy who was with Lewis & Clark or is best friends with Daniel Boone or de Vaca. All of which seems just as absurd until you give the picture of "Grandpa" that's on the box a good look in the eye and dump the soap out into your hand and give it the once over; even going so far as to run some warm water and wash your face with it for the first time. After that first washing, all of the above won't seem so far fetched.

 

 

 

    And as the back of the box claims, it has been known to be good for everything from shampoo to shaving lotion; each of which I've tested and can say that it is a sufficient shampoo, but it is one of the best shaving lathers that I've ever used. And the soap has also been known to help people who struggle with dandruff, Psoriasis, Eczema, and many other major and minor skin irritations. I'm not sure about any of those, but I will say that it does do a great job of cleaning and when you finish your shower, you do feel fresh and clean.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

           In all honesty and putting most of the absurdity behind me, Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap, is a really good soap. It does smell and when I say that I am VERY serious. You can just place it in your bathroom and minutes later, it is the only smell that you will experience when you go near or in the bathroom. The smell grew on me, but it did not grow on my wife. The only thing that I can tell you that it smells like is that of a campfire. Many others who smelled it compared it to everything from beef jerky (disgusting) to dog food (even more disgusting). I only think it smells like the fires that smolder days after they've been set or break out like in a state forest or when they are clearing land. I happen to like this smell, but others may hate it. And you may like it, but just not want to smell it in your shower. I will say that after bathing with it, you do not smell like it for even an hour after you bathe. 

 

 

 

 

    It is a great soap and an even greater shaving lather. It is an efficient shampoo, but if you have thin hair like me, then it'll make it feel really dry. I have a read a couple of places saying it makes a great deodorant, but from my single day experience, I can say that either it isn't or South Georgia is not the place to try that out. If you have normal skin, I don't think there is much resistance to it, but if you have sensitive skin, then your skin may fight you a little. If you have marble or granite fixtures in your bathroom, the soap does leave behind an odd film, but most bar soaps do too, but unlike we'll say Irish Spring, "Grandpa's", washes off easily. And if natural soap is your thing, then look no further that this soap. It only has seven total ingredients and three of those are water, pine tar, and salt. This is a far cry from 15+ ingredients that make up the bar of my usual, Irish Spring soap, that most people who didn't take Organic Chemistry II could pronounce or know what they're referring to. I'm not knocking, Irish Spring. I love that soap. I've been using it since before middle school and I plan on doing so until something better comes along, but I was just showing the differences of ingredients.

 

 

    Since the summer and my fateful box containing two bars of Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap, I have since used both bars and do not currently have a bar, but one should arrive tomorrow. I enjoyed the soap and will keep using it. It won't be a monthly thing, but merely just a special thing. The lone drawback for me, besides the fact that my bride doesn't just love it, is that each bar can put you back around $6. And when it comes to soap, that is quite a bit. I can sometimes find other soaps, soaps my bride and I both like, for far less and get multiple bars. I would encourage others to buy a bar. I will say that this is the first summer and XC season in which I didn't have to go to a doctor to get my biannual shot for a severe poison ivy breakout. I'm giving most of that credit to the soap and for me that's worth more than $6.

 

 

Go get some Pine Tar Soap and as FH would say, "lather up, lather up",

 

DAVID