In Irons

rerylikes:

Mitch Dobrowner - Storms

Staying with Brad from Urban Velo has been really great.    The first two nights we stayed here, he was at NAHBPC ‘12 in Milwaukee.  Unfortunately, a recurring shoulder injury sent him home early.  On the bright side, we did get to spend some time with him here in Pittsburgh.  I was so happy to unpack my panniers in Brad’s living room and sort out all the stuff I decided was too heavy to drag along.  Immediately it became clear that everything in his house had an interesting story behind it.  The early 1900s Colombia frame is a great case in point.   One of the first things we did was take full advantage of Brad’s complete bicycle workshop in his basement.  With a newly polished drivetrain and trued wheels, I rode around the city for a few hours.  It didn’t take long to remember that gritty rustbelt feel that’s so apparent in Buffalo, but somehow Pittsburgh seems to pull it off better.  The waterfront is inviting, the sports teams don’t inspire constant frustration, and the downtown is much more commuter friendly in comparison.  I could easily see myself living in Pittsburgh, especially with with such a dedicated and knowledgable staple in the cycling community as Brad.

After leaving Mayville, we climbed hill after hill through the PA boarder.  Somewhere right around Sherman, we descended a rural road when I got chased by a dog.  It was an Australian Blue Heeler.  It bit and held onto my non-driveside pannier and I dragged it down most of the hill.  It was terrifying and incredible.  I have never disliked a living thing more.

In the afternoon, we stopped in the town of Titusville, an Oil Region town that was a bigger deal in the railroad days, and played a part in the early oil industry of the country.  While we charged up our phones, I took a look around town.  My interest led me to a frework hut in a Rite Aid parking lot.  While I perused the explosive goods, I heard a voice behind me compliment, “Nice panniers!”  That voice ended up belonging to a woman named Susan.  In the mid 70s, she bicycle toured through north and south New Zealand.  She was a mother now, that was made obvious by her interest and general urge to help.  As soon as it came up in conversation Charlie’s love of trains, she sped off and returned a few moments later with a key to a caboose room at the Caboose Motel.  Stunned by her generosity, we got as many hugs in as we could before taking off for our new home for the night.  True to the name, the motel is refashioned train cabooses, loaded with beds, bathrooms and even a coffee maker.  The view from the window showed an old passenger train that’s still running and now used for tours.  

(Source: flickr.com)

Day 2.  We made it to Mayville, which sits against the northern shore of Lake Chautauqua. After dinner at a lakeside restaurant, we took a quick dip in the lake and cooled off.  It was just getting dark when we made a stop at grocery store.  Inside we met Myra who, as it turns out, is no stranger to cycle tourists.  Her son is making his way to Santa Barbara, CA right now, after starting out in Portland, ME.  She offered us a place to stay for the night, but prefaced the offer with a hesitant tone.  She said that her brother, her housemate, probably wouldn’t go for it.  According to Myra, home security was high on the list of priorities to her brother Mark.  After the idea got an unexpected okay, we followed Myra back to her home.  We almost couldn’t believe our eyes, riding up the gravel driveway.  Mark and Myra lived in a bonafide log cabin in the woods, right against a lake.  Meeting Mark, it was clear he was carefully reading us for the first half hour or so.  Somehow, we got his approval, and soon learned he was a pretty incredible person.  A true self-made man, when asked about his career, he described himself as RED: retired and extremely dangerous.  Taxidermied animals, antique weapons and old western memorabilia covered the deep wood tons of his cabin’s walls.  He self-applied the term “mountain man”, and for good reason.  Multiple times in his life, Mark lived in a tent in the woods for year-long stretches.  As a teenager, he raised a red-tailed hawk.   A few times, he made reference to the arsenal of guns locked away in his bedroom, calling them things like “street sweepers” and “alley clearers.”  It was pretty clear by his demeanor and style that Mark was a military guy.  His row boat even sported some pretty badass nose art and his lighter payed homage to the Seabees, members of the Navy’s construction battalion.  Before we left in the morning, he sent us on our way proper, each with a pocket knife for enhanced self protection.  Some of his parting words were, “Ya know, I don’t like most people, but I guess I like you two.”  Good way to start the day if you ask me. 

(Source: flickr.com)