I assume everyone has situations, sounds, circumstances, or random things that trigger memories of certain songs. Right now I can't help but think of "The Ghost of Tom Joad" covered by Rage Against the Machine, every time I ride by the homeless community near the beginning of the Riverfront trail. Bruce Springsteen did a bang up job of writing the song, but he didn't really do his own words the justice that Rage did them several years later. Maybe partial writing credit should go to John Steinbeck for writing the Grapes of Wrath. Tom Joad wouldn't exist otherwise. But how many living people have any clue who John Steinbeck is? I guess it's a bad idea to die.

I'm not homeless or dead yet, though sometimes, both prospects are very appealing. I stumbled into my first century of the year on St. Patrick's day, maybe because of lack of fear or a sufficient amount of stupidity. I had this memory from a few years ago of riding through Soulard in front of a bunch of revelers in my old green team kit on the holiday and I knew I had to do it again this year. I took it a step further by attempting to ride at least a hundred miles. The attempt was a success. I rode one hundred miles in five hours and forty minutes. I wrote the numbers as words to express how long this ride took. It took a long freaking time!

I don't know what the deal is with Soulard this year, but people have really decided that they are going to spend huge chunks of their lives partying, parading, and drinking themselves into oblivion. Maybe it just seems worse because Mardi Gras and St. Patrick's day were so close together this year. What's next? Hold a parade and perpetual party as an excuse to stay drunk until Easter is over? I think it's pretty sad that people need excuses to be alcoholics. In my opinion, no excuse is necessary.

I incorrectly assumed that my bike would be in perfect shape and ready to ride when I rolled out of bed at 10:30 am on Thursday morning. Nope! It was still dirty and had water dripping from it, from a sixty mile ride that I took a week ago in forty degree rain. On that ride, I came close to suffering the effects of hypothermia on that forgettable ride. I lost the use of my hands about fifteen miles from home. It's pretty tough to pull your brake levers at random stop signs when your hands don't work.

While I was attempting to degrease my chain and clean it, I noticed that one of the rollers at the quick-connect link was about to fall off. Astutely, I decided to measure for chain stretch and learned that it was at least 3/16 of an inch over 12 inches. Holy shit! I had a new chain ready, so I immediately decided to discard the old chain before it could do more damage to my drivetrain. With extreme wear and tear present, I decided to check the cassette as well. The 17 tooth cog was completely done. I guess I should pay more attention to my bike, but I really don't ride it that often. I ended up swapping my chain, cassette for a Dura Ace (lucky me), and tire.

How long does it take to partially overhaul a bike like that? Answer: a really long time. Somehow I made it out my front door at 1:15 pm and managed to ride until it got dark. I've never seen so many drunk people in green shirts in my entire life. I think America has become addicted to Bud Light.

Here's a piece of advice. When you hear or feel your tire thumping don't ignore it until you get warmed up and find a convenient place to pull over and check it. That one didn't work so well for me. By the time I finally pulled over to check my tire, about an hour into my ride, I could see the tube bulging out between the rim and bead of the tire. The bead of the tire didn't get hooked into the bead of the rim on the last little final section that's so hard to roll onto the rim because I was using an old tire with the beads cut off as a tire-liner. Damage had been done to my tire, but the extra tire helped everything stay together for the next 80 miles of my ride.

I feel pretty good on the bike lately, but I'm a little slower than I want to be. It sucks to get old. I can ride all day at a leisurely pace, but for what? To ride past a bunch of bums who refuse to work in fast food restaurants and live in somebody's basement? "Look in their eyes ma, you'll see me!"