The most common semi-smarmy question I get about riding my bike to work is: “How many MPG do you get with that thing?” So I decided to do more bike math. There are 2080 calories in one gallon of 2% milk. Using the calories burned count from last year [220 calories per day [6.6 miles per day]] I get 62.7 miles per gallon of milk while riding my bike.
2080⁄220 = 9.454545
9.5 days * 6.6 miles per day = 62.7 mpg.
If the average cost of milk is $3.50 a gallon, it costs me a little more than 5 ¢ per mile.
3.5÷62.7 = 0.0558 $ per mile.
So the next time someone asks, I’ll tell them that I get 62.7 mpg of milk which is about 5¢ per mile; and secure my nerddom for all time.
While my Mongoose gets me too and from work dependably, the thing is so heavy and bulky that riding it into the wind is a real bitch, especially since I can’t even pretend to ride the thing in an aerodynamic fashion, it’s a mountain/road hybrid after all.
When I was a kid I had a sweet bike, with a big fat back tire that was perfect for laying a nice thick piece of rubber down when I skidded out. The only problem was that it was red, white and blue, and not a very aesthetically pleasing design either. So I took the thing apart, painted it black and silver, wrote a name I’ve since forgotten on the top tube, and basically pimped it out for an 8 – 10 year old.
Now I want to do the same, but this time I want to build my own road bike. This biggest obstacle to this project is that I’m no bike geek; I don’t know what brand of frame to look for, who makes good rims, gears, shifters, brakes, etc. The learning curve will be kind of steep if I’m to get anywhere with this. The biggest help for this will be the few folks I know who are hardcore cyclists; Lou, Jeff and Andy, I’ll be on y’all like Mama Cass on a ham sandwich about this, once I’ve got the renovations under control.
Watching Abraham is a never-ending source of fun. At first he had no volition, at all, but here we are three weeks later and he’s already figured out that he has the ability to control his own body. He’s not very good at it, but I can already see some definite human behavior emerging. He’s a good boy.
In the evening he’s usually overstimulated from all the new things he’s learned during the day, so while he feeds he fusses mightily. Sometimes he gets full and doesn’t really know what is going on and becomes inconsolable by Debbie.
I’m an expert, however, at both waking and getting the boy to sleep. Here’s a demonstration of the former:
The latter basically consists of me laying him across my body and letting him hear my heartbeat and look at my face until he’s out like the fat kid in dodgeball. Takes no more than 10 minutes, every time.
I’ve been reading him Robert Bly’s The Night Abraham Called to the Stars and The Silmarillion.
The other day I referred to him as Lord Squirmoculous, and treated him as if he were a commanding alien from an alien invasion force; disguised as a baby, of course. This has been quite fun, and we’ve been running with it. Saying: “Lord Squirmoculous commands x!” and “Your forces are leaving Squirmocula now, sir!” and “If you don’t listen to Lord Squirmoculous, he’ll unleash the Squirmoculizer!” Poor little guy, he has no idea. Heh.