I was walking across the room to investigate the ice-cream situation when I heard my dad utter the above phrase. I knew he’d hit his stride.

It was the weekend before last, at James & Dahlia’s get-together for their daughter’s first birthday. We’d dropped by to say hello and hand over a big bowl of cookies. Children bounced from wall to wall, giddy on candy from the piñata, and adults clustered in groups chatting about all manner of topics. Dad, as it turned out, was hanging out with James’s brother John, John’s wife Susan, and a couple of the older nephews. He was telling them about a neighbor who had gotten drunk at a livestock auction and came home with seven buffalo calves which he then had to learn how to contain and care for. Fred learned, as Dad was gleefully retelling, that barbed wire doesn’t mean much to a buffalo and that buffalo, when they get the notion to wander, do. When buffalo wander at will through populated areas, mayhem can and probably will ensue. There was some property damage and at least one automotive accident. The moral of the story, if one can be extracted, is that you shouldn’t get drunk at a livestock action.

My dad has a notable narrative style. The first time I saw the TV show “The Wonder Years,” I was struck by how similar the voiceover was to my dad’s storytelling style. Sure, dad’s stories are frequently bawdier and contain some extremely colorful and “country” colloquialisms, and some of his language is definitely not fit for prime-time, but the pacing and tone are very similar. He’s also a man who knows no stranger and who relishes a fresh audience. The story about how my uncle Frank and his friend Bob nearly blew up dad’s old garage with a balloon full of acetylene and a cigarette may get replayed, or the story about how one of our neighbors used to piss off our goat by making his car backfire might be brought out for fresh air. He’s got a wide repertoire for many and any occasion or audience and when the occasion allows, he’s a skilled yarn-spinner.

Today was my dad’s 60th birthday, and I just got off the phone with him a little bit ago. He’s enjoying his new Far Side books and is planning to go for a spin on his new-to-him Fisher tomorrow. He and Mom went out for dinner at their favorite local Mexican restaurant, and it sounds like he’s just having himself one heck of a fine day. He won’t be reading this entry, on account of not having a computer (and subsequently no Internet). I appreciate my folks for being pretty darn awesome, and I wanted to try to share a bit of the awesomeness with anyone who reads. My dad’s a hoot, and that’s the truth.

Within the cycling community Bike To Work Week generates quite a bit of buzz. There are all sorts of promos, events, competitions, and celebrations centered around the simple act of riding a bicycle for basic transportation. While I obviously support the notion of biking to work, errand-running, and pleasure, I can’t seem to drum up much enthusiasm for participating in the official Bike To Work Week extravaganzas. Sure, I’ll be biking to work, and I’m even going to take a Scientific Wild Assed Guess at my mileage so that I can contribute to the Earthriders’ team effort in the Bike To Work mileage competition, but that’s about as far as I go with it.

I have kind of a hard time getting real rah-rah about it because to me, cycling for transportation is the opposite of a big deal. It’s just how I roll. I ride to work, to run my errands, to go to parties, for the sheer hell of it. It’s the transportation option that works best for me. I’m not a big evangelist (though I could probably give you a half-hour talk on why biking is AWESOME). For me, riding my bike to work is about as exotic as driving is for most of my co-workers. It’s the same round of streets day in and day out. Sure the weather changes, sometimes something odd happens, or I take some side-streets to spice up the routine, but basically it’s about getting from point A to point B in the most straightforward and safe way as possible.

For me, biking isn’t a big political or moral choice. I don’t strictly do it for fitness, fashion, to stick it to Big Oil, to be eccentric, to Save The World, or to save money. I ride a bike because I like riding a bike. I’m no great shakes of a driver, and right now my car is completely disassembled in Nebraska awaiting a paint job. It beats waiting for the bus and being bound to routes and schedules and being stuck with the other passengers’ B.O. and noisiness. I got started as a bike commuter in college, when it seemed completely ludicrous to bother firing up the car to go anywhere in a town which wasn’t much more than 20 blocks square. I kept on because it’s kind of fun, it’s generally convenient, and yeah, it does save me quite a bit of money in the long run.

So Bike-To-Work-Week will come and go. Many biking bloggers will probably blog their way through the week, tracking how many miles they ride each day, how fast they rode, what their peak heart rate was, how much elevation they gained and lost, and how often they farted. More power to them. Chances are that I’ll write in my usual rambling, sporadic fashion. I may write about my commute if anything worthwhile happens, but I probably won’t since it’s pretty routine stuff.

If you are a cyclist who doesn’t commute but could, I encourage you to consider participating in Bike To Work Week in your own way and capacity. I’m not one of those zealots who thinks that everybody MUST bike everywhere, but figure “what the heck” if it’s officially Bike To Work Week, it’s a good excuse to ride your bike. Even if you’re a crank like me who is too contrary to really get behind the whole hurrah.

My folks were down for a visit this past weekend which was AWESOME. It’s been quite a while since they were able to get away and since the weather co-operated with them. They’d been planning to come a couple of weeks ago and got snowed in the day they meant to leave. April blizzards are just plain unnecessary.

Just days before my folks’ visit, Joel had come into the possession of a really nice Gary Fisher mountain bike that was just my dad’s size. Some associate of his was cleaning out the garage and decided that bike was superfluous to his requirements. It is about a 10 year old Fisher Aquila that looked like it couldn’t have been ridden more than a half-dozen times. Joel tuned it up, put a fresh pair of street slicks on it, and told Dad that the bike was his if he wanted it. To say that Dad was stoked would be to understate grievously. He took it for an initial cruise up and down the alley, then around the block and came back grinning ear to ear. He said he’d been thinking about getting a bike since he test-rode my Bianchi - he’d even been halfway considering resurrecting that horrible old Schwinn Continental they’ve got in the back of the woodshed. He’s now set up with a helmet, multitool, spare tubes, tire lever, pump - all the essentials. The timing worked out so that this is something like an early birthday present.

Mom and I got to do some of our traditional mother-and-daughter gardening. Mom’s been roto-tilling and planning at her place, but they’ve got to wait a few more weeks until danger of frost will be past. It’s safely into planting season down here in KCMO, however, and so we spent a companionable few hours digging, weed-picking and planting. Joel busted a bunch of sod and Mom and I followed behind with a couple of garden forks and rattled most of the dirt out of the grass/weed roots. Gardening goes very quickly when three sets of hands are laying into it. We planted some bell peppers, tomatoes, my exotic sunflowers (the red, orange, and bronze ones) marigolds, and zinnias. I’ve got to prep the cucumber and melon patch, and I couldn’t find my packets of carrot, lettuce, and radish seeds. Must intensify search later tonight.

On Sunday night, we had Joel’s mom over, so she got to meet my folks and vice versa. Joel made his famous dolma and I made a great big salad. Earlier in the day I’d made a bunch of the chocolate-orange-spice cookies, but because I was kind of gronked out on cold medicine, I forgot to put in the baking powder. They were still edible and tasted okay, but they didn’t spread. They remained as little spheres and “little brown balls” was employed as a phrase of minor wit. I’d made a double batch, too, because I wanted to take some over to a friend’s house to add to the celebratory feast they were holding for their daughter’s first birthday. None of the kids minded that the cookies looked a little weird, though, so I guess my bungle was pretty minor in the scheme of things.

Oh yeah–the cold medicine. With my usual sort of glorious timing, I caught a late-season cold just at the head of the weekend, and was heartily sick on Tuesday. I’m feeling just fine now, but I have thoroughly lost my voice and sound like Marge Simpson when I’m lucky. I felt chipper enough while my folks were visiting, but I think I put all of my energy into being up and sociable, ’cause after they headed out for my sister’s house, I pretty much just passed the heck out and ended up staying home sick from work yesterday. I’m feeling pretty good now - it was a fairly short lived cold except for the voice thing.

• During a group ride, pointing out potholes is considered polite

• Bunny-hopping them might be considered a bit ostentatious *

• Hollerin’ “Yee-HAW” if you get good air when you hop is probably a tad uncouth. **

* Newly-developed skill - working hard to perfect it
**I haven’t “Yee-HAW-ed” yet, but you’d better believe the thought has crossed my mind.

I’m updating from Joel’s computer. Not too long after I got my computer back from the shop, it punked out again. It turns out that at the time it croaked on account of a no-good hard-drive, the motherboard was on its way out, too.

In a way it’s a mercy that my computer broke down again so soon after its last repair. I hadn’t uploaded a bunch of pictures or created a bunch of documents, or re-loaded a bunch of my backup stuff yet. I’d written a blog entry about Ouachita (which I didn’t post since I was waiting for my pictures to upload so I could “illustrate” it) and uploaded the photos from that trip to Flickr. Literally minutes after that upload, the machine locked up and would not re-boot. I was pretty annoyed, considering that I’d already been leery of the work done on this machine due to the whole second-hard-drive-drama. As it turns out, though, it wasn’t anything the computer shop did to it - it’s just old and worn out.

So, I’m forking out for a new motherboard (re-using the old processor) and a new video card since the old one won’t fit on this new board. Also some more RAM because the RAM I had won’t fit on this board either. What a nuisance! Also, I figured since I was going to be in it this deep already, I might as well spring for replacing that second hard drive. Whenever I get my dang computer back, it’s actually going to be pretty much entirely a whole new machine. Woot, I guess.

The next time my computer dies (hopefully not for a long, long time), I’m just going to tote the whole carcass to the computer shop and tell them to use it for donor parts and buy a whole, freshly-refurbished computer from them. No more trying to re-use used-up parts for me!

I’ve heard that it’s good to have goals. I have goals, though many of them are frankly ridiculous.

For example, coming up in about a month and a half, I’ve taken it upon myself to ride a couple hundred miles via dirt roads in the Flint Hills of Kansas. This is called the Dirty Kanza, an epic event that Joel helps put on and promote. I thought it sounded like a pretty cool thing to do, and hearing Joel talk about his adventures out in the wild hills inspired me. Also, the woman who was the first female finisher last year inspired me. I got to thinking, “humm…I wonder if I could do that?” So, now I’m going to find out.

I’m stoked, excited, and more than a little nervous. That’s a long ride out in the boondocks! But the course is well marked, I have a good headlight for the night sections, and I think if I have useful snacks packed and get in a few good, long, hard rides between now and then, I will be okay. One of the few things I am marginally good at is locking into a comfortable pace and pedaling for hours.

My other big goal related to the Dirty Kanza is seeing at least one if not several Prairie Chickens. The Flint Hills area is the largest natural habitat of Prairie Chickens and is the site of many of their “booming grounds.” I think that they may well be out and showing off for one another during the time of this ride, so I am hoping to witness a little tuft-tailed chickeny bird with orange throat sacs flapping and dancing around all tryin’ to get some action.

I’m not so sure why either goal is so set in my mind, but there they are. Completing the Dirty Kanza and seeing a Prairie Chicken. Those are my two big, immediate goals. I reckon the Dirty Kanza thing is partly because that kind of epic ride is a reality check and the progenitor of epiphanies. I feel like I want to prove to myself that I can undertake and complete a ride like that. I also welcome the insights that come of a long, two-wheeled meditation. I have no idea what might come to me while I’m riding, but it tends to do me some good to take long rides and be alone with or without my thoughts.

The Prairie Chicken thing is easier. They’re an endangered species which has a very specific and limited habitat. They’re truly rare birds, and endearingly oddball critters on top of all that. I see robins, jays, grackles, cardinals, chickadees, and other little brown birds daily. I see semi-domestic geese and ducks regularly. But wild fowl of the open prairies are not seen in the center of a busy city. I’m interested in seeing a few of them just doing their little wild fowl thing out on the prairie.

I would love to hear a few meadowlarks while I’m out and about, too. I used to be able to imitate the song of a Western Meadowlark (the Nebraska state bird). When I was a kid, out in western NE, Id’ whistle out their little riff and hear calls and responses all around the open countryside. I wonder if I could fool Eastern Meadowlarks, too. I’m not sure if they have a similar call.

Well, I guess events of today could be classified as The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

1. Good: I finally got my bank card. Woo! I probably won’t switch banks super-soon, since it would be an ENORMOUS pain in the ass. More so than going a month without a bank card.

2. Bad: I was pretty much stuck in front of my computer at work all day long, which makes for a VERY long day. It also makes for a horrible crick in the neck and a nagging headache since my cubicle is set up horribly and it’s dimly lit in that part of the building. I can’t seem to come up with a good way to set up my work computer so that people can’t sneak up on me (I startle easily, especially when I am engrossed in wrangling with Adobe Illustrator, which is often). There are some companies who have an ergonomics expert on staff who can go around and help employees set up their workstations for optimal comfort and ease-of-use. I wish I could get somebody like that to swing by my desk and help me out. On the bright side, I managed to meet the surprise deadlines that I discovered this morning, so I feel pretty spanky about that.

3. Ugly: On Saturday some jackass dumped an old mattress out in front of my house. Seriously. An old, nasty, stained, bowed, flubbery, hideously-floral mattress which is probably crawling with vermin and bodily effluvia is lying in a depressing heap in the street in front of my house. Because there’s no car out in front of my house, I guess some lout decided that was a decent place to bung out their pestilent old mattress. So. Fucking. Disgusting. Bunch of savages in this town.

So yesterday I was going to call the Bulky Item Collection team at the sanitation department to come and collect this horrible thing. Unfortunately, I got caught up in projects, meetings, and just plain stuff, and didn’t get the call in then. I figured I’d better call in today, just in case one of my neighbors got up the gumption to stop dumping garbage out in front of their own houses and call in to complain about the mattress in front of my house. Seriously, I overestimated my neighbors. I doubt anyone actually noticed, since the rest of the block is so trashy. The woman at the call center let me know that nobody else had called in about the mattress, so I guess I’m not going to get ticketed for somebody else’s trash. Thank goodness.

So, there you have it. It sucked that I had a crunch at work, but rocked that I was able to get everything caught up and in good order. It was great that I finally have my banking stuff straightened out. And it was rifuckingdiculous that somebody dumped an old mattress in front of my house, but it’s great that I won’t be getting it trouble for it, and that somebody will be coming soon to remove it. I think this qualifies as a wash.

Joel’s been re-modeling the Burley for me, and yesterday we went out for a ride to Leavenworth which was the first trip out for me with this bike in its new configuration.

Not so long ago, I was trying to sell this bike. Nobody wanted to buy it, however, and Joel convinced me that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep it, and that it could probably be fixed up to be a better bike for my purposes.

The first thing he did was swap out the original Easton Vista wheels for a pair of 32-spoke Mavics. Those Eastons were a pair of rough-riding wheels. It was like riding a jackhammer down the road. I was pretty disappointed because I thought I had an uncharacteristically unforgiving steel-framed road bike, but the fact of the matter is that it just had a really stiff pair of wheels on it. The handling was terrible and it was fatiguing to ride on long distances. A road bike that sucks for distance riding isn’t much of a dang road bike. You’re supposed to be able to ride centuries on one of those things and do it with a smile. Or at least do it willingly and consider doing it again. Last year, after a 90-miler on the old wheels, I was ready to throw that bike off a bridge! Now, the notion of much longer rides is in no way unappealing.

So the original wheels are going up on ebay sometime pretty soon. The other immediate change was a switch over to flat bars and Paul’s “Thumbie” shifters. I just never could get the love for drop bars. I couldn’t brake well (even with the change to the supposed “short-reach” brake levers and bar-end shifters) and I never felt very in-control. I don’t like the hand position “on the tops of the hoods.” I can’t get a good grip and always feel like I’m about to lose the bike. In the drops, I can’t see very well and always end up with a stiff neck. On the flat tops of drop-bars, my hands are too close to the stem and I can’t climb very well. I basically just hate everything about drop bars, but I’m okay to go with flat bars. I’ve got a pair of rather stylish black-and-white pepper-bedecked Salsa grips at the moment.

Yet to do: shorter stem (this one is way too long and pulls my shoulders forward) and a lower-geared chainring set. This one is 41/52, and it’s really far too high-geared for me. I’m a decided spinner. I think it’s going to end up being something like 38/48 or similar, and I think that will be quite sufficient for my purposes.

I think once the shorter stem and smaller chainrings are on there, I’m going to wholeheartedly love this bike. I already heartily endorse the new wheels. Those Eastons are going up on ebay pretty darn toute suite. Fie on stiff wheels, fie, fie!

To test out the new setup, we rode to Leavenworth, KS yesterday. I’m very pleased with how it’s coming along, and the ride was just long enough to really test out the wheels and confirm the other planned changes. That length of ride with the old wheels would have really beat me up and I’d have a sore butt (bike shorts nothwithstanding) and a lousy attitude today. I’m looking forward to taking that bike out again, instead of swearing I will sell the whole contraption at the earliest convenience.

The ride out to Leavenworth was something else! Yesterday was crazy windy and it was a *fight* riding into that wind. I’m not too proud to admit that I drafted Joel whenever I could. The wind was really kicking my butt. Plus it was a really chilly wind which kind of sucked the fun out of riding for that first 35 miles or so. But, if I think I’m going to be doing the Dirty Kanza (more about that later) then getting my butt handed back to me by a few headwinds now is probably a good idea. The route we took to and from Leavenworth was a big loop rather than an out-and-back. The trip to Leavenworth was very flat, but we were bucking a stiff headwind almost the whole way there. On the way back we had a stout tailwind, of course, but much, much hillier terrain. The road back was significantly prettier, thanks to the hills and the winding twistiness of the road itself. There were lots of prosperous-looking small farms and country residences, cows and young calves (when they’re still little and cute) and early-blooming flowers to enliven the landscape.

About the only drawback to the whole ride, aside from the cold headwind on the way out, was what appeared to be an auto club on the way back. It was a group of about half a dozen very new, very expensive sports coupes (different makes and models, all fancy, bright-colored, and theoretically very fast). This group of drivers were really aggressive and tried to squeeze us off the road. After the first four squeaked past us, Joel held down his hand in the “slow down” gesture. Car five slowed down and went wide of us, the passenger gesticulating angrily. Car six also slowed down and went wide, but idled alongside of us, as though the driver and passenger were thinking about fucking with us. It made me pretty nervous, frankly. Moreso than nearly being edged off the road in the first place. After a moment, the driver revved up the engine and squealed away from us. I’m not sure what all that was about, any and all of them had plenty of space to pass us like sane and normal people. I can see the appeal of zipping a sports-car around on those hilly, twisty back-roads, but I can’t see the appeal of intentionally intimidating other road-users who are basically doing the same thing, but on a bicycle, rather than in a car.

The route back in to town included a stretch of Quindaro Blvd, heading toward downtown KCKS. I’m going to have to do a photo ride in that area one of these days. Folks who are scared of inner KC (KS and MO) have no idea about the cool old houses in these semi-abandoned old neighborhoods. I didn’t have my camera with me on yesterday’s ride (I was concerned about rain) but Joel did and he took a few pictures, though none on Quindaro.

Pretty soon here I’ll have to post some pictures of my updated road bike. I think it’s pretty nifty.

Oh yes, I am ever and ever so annoyed!

Still no bank card.  Once again, the fucking thing was returned without notice.  I just happened to be so lucky as to get to the bank just before closing to learn this.  Apparently, they are going to hold it at the office for me.  The department which deals with such things was closed for the day, but supposedly they will hold the card and I can pick it up on Monday.

I’ll neither be placing any bets nor be holding my breath on account of that promise.

At this point I have very little confidence of seeing that bank card in the near future.  If I do manage to receive it on Monday, I will be pleasantly surprised.  If I don’t receive it, however, I will be changing banks pretty much on the spot.

This is fucking ridiculous and I am just fed the fuck up.

What a pain in the ass!

(I’m still working out a few snags with my cable modem, so the pics and write-up from Ouachita will have to wait) - In the meantime:

I’ve had a couple of experiences just recently that have brought to my attention how much of customer-service is simply the application of good communication.

It is now almost a full month since I discovered that my bank card had been canceled due to a group of account numbers having been tampered with.  I found out about the card’s cancellation not by a phone call, letter, or even e-mail.  I found out by trying to use it, having it not work, trying to use it at an ATM (because I thought the cashier might have either done something wrong or her reader was being fickle) and having the ATM suck up my card, retain it, and give me an error message ordering me to contact my bank.  Predictably, I freaked, having images of identity theft, drained bank accounts, and a mountain of financial and legal troubles looming before me.  A frenzied call to the bank confirmed that my card had been compromised, canceled, and that my accounts were just fine, as was the security of my identity.

I could have been spared that morning of panic had the bank given me the courtesy of a phone call or other notification of having canceled my card.  It was an emergency situation, so I can understand the short notice, but even afterward, I never received a letter, phone call, e-mail, NOTHING confirming the cancellation or explaining the situation.

So after I learned about the card fiasco, I went into the physical office of my bank the following business day and ordered a new bank card.  The teller informed me that it would be 7-10 business days before I received it.  A week passed, and I figured I’d better keep a close eye on my mailbox.  I figured, okay, so this is going to be closer to the 10-day mark - no biggie.  Ten days passed, nothing.  At 14 days, I was getting concerned, not to mention annoyed.  Being without a bank card is a pretty significant inconvenience these days, when nobody will accept checks and I have to go in to the bank office every time I need cash for something.  On Day 14, I went back into the bank office and inquired as to the whereabouts of my bank card.  The teller did a little research and informed me that it was never delivered; that something had gone wrong, it had been returned to the issuing office and destroyed.

I was incredulous.  Nobody ever called me to confirm my address when it was returned.  I’d never received any communication of any kind letting me know that there had been a problem.  No call, no letter, e-mail, nada, zip, zero.  No.Thing.  I was pretty irritated at this point, because it was now sitting at two-and-a-half weeks since my card had been canceled without notice.  I asked the teller if they could possibly expedite the issue of my new card since there had evidently been an error in processing.  She inquired with a  supervisor and informed me that in order to overnight a new card to me, there would be a $90 fee.  I decided that my convenience wasn’t worth $90 and told her I was fine with the 7-10 day wait.  The problem was that this would be cutting it awful close - on what would be Day 8, I was to be leaving town for a long weekend, and it sure would have been nice to have had a debit card while traveling. With any luck, the new-new card will be showing up sometime early this week.  A full month, plus some days, since the original card had been canceled.  I swear, if there is another problem with this new card, I am going to take my accounts to a different bank.  The lack of communication and repeated bungling doesn’t inspire confidence, you know?

The second (or third) instance of poor communication that had given me a kind of bad impression of a company I’ve done business with had to do with having my ailing computer overhauled.  It turns out that among the problems that it had was that one of the two hard-drives was dying.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t made aware of this until I got the computer home, started unpacking it to set it up, and found one of the hard-drives wrapped up in a plastic bag in a bundle of manuals, discs, and cords.  I looked at the hard-drive and thought, “Why is this not in my computer?  I have two hard-drives and distinctly didn’t ask that they eliminate one of them.  WTF?  I am going to call them immediately and find out why they took out and left out one of my hard-drives!”

I called the computer shop and was informed that this particular hard-drive was too jacked up to put back in - it was no good at all.  Moreover, the guy who worked on my computer wasn’t in and I would have to wait a day to speak with him.  I said that I’d call back when he was in and find out what was the problem.

The problem, in my mind however, is that he didn’t call me when he found out that this hard-drive was toast.  He should have called me, let me know what was going on, and offered me the option to just have the one drive, or to replace this dead drive while we were at it.  If he’d given me a call, given me a heads-up, and offered some options, I wouldn’t have had that initial assumption that he had forgotten to complete the job or that he had done something completely different than that which I’d asked him to do.

Despite the fact that I don’t really consider myself a “people person,” I have been working in customer service (and now in “Communication”) since I moved to Kansas City over 8 years ago.  I’ve learned that the key element of “good customer service” is communication.  Whenever I’ve had to do something different for a customer, I’ve gotten in touch with that person and let them know what I was doing, when I was doing it, and why it was being done.  Only a handful of people found these heads-up calls annoying or extraneous.  The vast majority of the people I’ve helped over the years were glad to hear from me, and found the clarification comforting and useful.

Now that I am working in PR/Communications, I find that my work hasn’t changed that significantly in intent, just in delivery.  When I was in Customer Service, my role was typically much more passive.  I was there as a point of contact; people came to me or called me when they needed a service.  When I made calls to people or sent written communication it was almost always follow-up.  Now, my job is more pro-active, where I contact parties who will be affected by the work my organization does.  I give people a heads-up about work we’ll be doing or explain about proposed projects, policies, and related programs.  The basic concept is very similar in that I am somebody who provides information, only now I provide it unbidden whereas previously people had to inquire specifically.

Given my experiences as a customer-service provider and now as a PR-type person, as well as my experiences as a customer, I’ve developed an appreciation for good communication as part of a company’s customer-service, and it definitely stands out to me when it is lacking.