First it was mathematics as a tool of White Supremacists. And now this…

Staff members within the University of Oxford’s music department have reportedly suggested removing sheet music from the school’s curriculum because of its purported connections to a “colonial past.”

Professors said that music notation has not “shaken off its connection to its colonial past” and that sticking with it would be a “slap in the face” for students of color, according to documents reviewed by the British outlet The Telegraph.

The same faculty also reportedly questioned whether the current curriculum was complicit in “white supremacy,” pointing to the program’s focus on “white European music from the slave period” – composers like Mozart and Beethoven.

The professors further suggested that certain classical music skills – like playing the piano and conducting orchestral arrangements – ought not to be required given that they “structurally center white European music” and cause “students of color great distress.”

I actually have a whole bunch of Mozart CDs from back when CDs were state of the art musical technology. The music from Cosi fan tutte gives me chills. In the 4th act of Le nozze di Figaro when the Countess forgives her unfaithful husband (Contessa perdono) my eyes water, so beautiful is the music and the moment. In the current climate I suppose I’d better keep this quiet lest this music be ‘cancelled’ or I be branded a racist. That seems to be getting harder to avoid; first it was my math degree and now my musical tastes being tools of oppression.

Speaking of Mozart, I sometimes refer to Duke Ellington as “America’s Mozart”. A genius composer and orchestra leader and pianist. I’m no music expert but I find myself listening to Sirius XM 40’s Junction and when Ellington’s Orchestra is playing I’m not changing the channel. I have some Ellington CD’s as well.

So here is photographic evidence that this American music master used both sheet music and the piano to create his masterpieces. I wonder if he knew these were a connection to a ‘colonial past’? Oxford take note…

I got my first high quality LOOK clipless pedals back in 1992. Later I switched to Shimano pedals with a very similar design. Shimano tried to develop its own pedal , but the LOOK system was so elegant that Shimano gave up and paid LOOK to license their design without patent infringement.

I’ve ridden over 160,000 miles in the last three decades, and I have never had a pedal problem. Never. The bearings do not seem to wear out, the retention mechanism that holds your shoe cleats in place keeps working, and the only time the pedals make any noise is when those cleats are worn out and it is time to get new ones. About every 7,000 miles for me.

My friend Bill is not so lucky. Bill is a relatively new road cyclist. He started riding with the Stockton Bike Club and has become a Thursday regular. Last Sunday I rode with him for the entire Ride for Art event. Bill is a good rider but he said he had never done more than 60 miles or more than 4,800 feet of climbing on a single ride. So when we finished with 80 miles and 7,700 feet climbed on Sunday he was well satisfied with his effort.

His bike has been making a very irritating noise for months. I asked him about it on Sunday. We all thought it was his bottom bracket. He had one on order for a long time, but COVID has really disrupted supply chains and many bike parts are in short supply. But his had finally arrived and been installed, and the noise persisted.

On Thursday the mystery was solved. After 5 miles of riding on South Comanche, we stopped to regroup, and as he unclipped Bill discovered that his pedal was wobbling. Then he pulled it out of the crank arm without a wrench. The threads on the crank are were stripped! So severely stripped that he shoved the pedal in and out of the hole where the threads were supposed to be like a piston in a cylinder.

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A loose pedal is a real problem that can be catastrophic if it fails when you are out of the saddle putting all of you weight on it. If it loosens suddenly or (worse) breaks, you can crash and in the process injure some very tender body parts. He is lucky that didn’t happen.

But he is also kind of unlucky. Pedal problems are exceptionally rare. The noise had been going on for months, and I know he checked the pedals and they were tight, but there must have been some play in the threads that eventually worked loose and left him with a stripped crank arm.

There are some patchwork fixes for this, but I wouldn’t trust them on such a critical interface between bike and rider. So the only answer is a new crank. A new Ulterga crank to replace its ruined twin will cost $290. And the pedal threads look kind of battered, so he will probably need to spend another $180 to replace them too. Ouch!

There is a moral to the story. A quality bicycle properly maintained should be nearly silent. Any new squeak or thunk or rattle is a sign of potential trouble. So try to isolate the cause and solve the problem ASAP. Before the possibility of solution is ‘stripped’ away.

Since the Covid lockdowns started back in March 2020, organized bike rides and bike tours have pretty much vanished. Most ‘gatherings’ are verboten and even an outdoor, well spaced event like a fund raising bike ride has to make so many adaptations and follow so many rules that organizers simply give up.

So yesterday, the Ride 4 Art ride in Calaveras County decided to buck the trend and actually put on a ride. With modifications of course. No post ride meal or entertainment. Remote check in. No wrist bands for rest stops. No raffle.

The ride was not quite as advertised. The website said this:

But my Garmin and Strava told a different story:

An ‘extra’ 2,100 feet of climbing! This turned out to be my longest ride with the most climbing since I was in the Dolomites back in September 2019. In all of 2020 I didn’t do any ride even close to this one. The Panicdemic put all my trips and most of my cycling ambition on indefinite hold. It has been a long time since I spent over 6 hours pedaling.

Now normally when you pay your $65 to do a long ride like this, you get well stocked rest stops and a post ride meal. Usually there is fresh fruit, chips, and pastries at a first stop. The second stop usually has peanut butter sandwiches and turkey sandwiches, and a much needed Coke, I never drink Coke except during the second half of long bike rides.

I understand that the Covid Panicdemic rules mean some changes. And we were warned that the rest stops would be limited, but I was surprised at the extent of that limitation. There were plenty of water-only stops, so there was no danger of getting dehydrated. But the first food available was at the Harrah’s Casino at mile 39, when we had already climbed 3,800 feet and been pedaling for 3 hours. The fare on offer consisted of packaged chocolate brownies and Doritos. That was it. No fruit, no cookies, no sports drink. I ate a bag of the chips, put the brownies in my pocket, took a water bottle and pored it into my bidon and headed for the next stop, 17 miles away.

Here the conditions were the same, minus the brownies. We are at mile 52, and we have another 28 miles and 3,500 feet to climb. I ate another bag of Doritos and one of my brownies. I was carrying two energy gels of my own for nutrition emergencies. I took the first one earlier at the top of Stoney Creek Road. The last one I saved in case of bonk, which never happened.

I don’t blame the organizers for the meager provisions. I have no idea what the Covid rules for rest stops are. But given the minutia that we are bombarded with in the forms of rules, regulations, guidance, advice and social pressure during this panicdemic, I’m sure the restrictions are many and the choices are few. Perhaps Doritos have been found by science to have anti-viral properties.

It became obvious that the ride was going to be longer than planned, but I had some fine riding companions. Bill and I rode together for the whole thing. Kent started well ahead of us, but he said we would catch him, and eventually we did. We were joined by Captain Hawk who rode part of the course from his house, but he did about 60 miles and skipped Stoney Creek, so he only gets partial credit.

Instead of heading for the barn at mile 65, we decided to to the out and back on Hogan Dam Road. This road made me think of France. It is all up and down and curves and few cars. With one major difference from the French versions: there are people shooting loud guns at targets in some open space and hopefully away from the road. I’m not sure this is legal but I’m not going to argue the point.

The only problem with this road is that the pavement ends after 5 miles. So we turned around into the wind, which got stronger as the day went on and was going to be in our faces for the last 10 miles. Of course it was! Who wants to cap off an epic day of cycling enjoying a tailwind?

After the ride I was really hungry so I headed to Davinci’s deli for a much needed sandwich, and I took home some ravioli for dinner too. I was happy and kind of surprised I did the whole ride without any issues, although for some reason I got really tired around mile 50 but rode better after that and actually felt fine at the finish. Maybe the first bag of Doritos took a while to kick in.

It has been a little over one year since most of the USA went into some form of lockdown. Remember the instant toilet paper shortage? Last March I made a trip to my local Raley’s on a Sunday, and to my shock the shelves were empty of almost everything and fellow shoppers were wandering around with dazed looks on their faces.

I could see the looks on their faces, because none of us were wearing masks. One year ago our experts told us masks weren’t necessary and didn’t work anyway unless they were the N 95 type. Just as the original Stay at Home Order was supposed to last a couple of weeks to ‘flatten the curve’. Soon we were told and ordered to mask up, and recently advised that two masks are even better than one. And the couple of weeks has dragged out to over a year.

I’m not going to tell you what I think about the ‘experts’ and our state governor and our county public health department head, and how they are telling us what we can and cannot do (mostly the latter).This isn’t a political blog. I’m just trying to keep sane and out of trouble. Vodka helps…

A year ago we were watching our travel plans unravel in increments. The six weeks of cycling in France starting in May 2020 officially bit the dust on April 7, when Air France sent us an e mail cancelling our flight. AF issued vouchers good for future travel and refundable for cash after one year. I’ve still got them in my France folder.

I didn’t ask for refunds from our Malaucene landlady or France Bicycle Rental (Modestine’s owner) or my favorite European bicycle tour company, 44 5. I had already paid for everything but I presumed that by August 2020 we would be able to travel. Wrong again.

So here we are in March a year after the shut down, and the same May/June trip we had planned for 2020, paid for in 2020, and rescheduled for May/June 2021 is starting to fall apart. France’s border is closed to travelers from the USA. France itself is having problems with the pace of vaccinations and many parts of the country, including Paris, are back in a severe lockdown. And the French don’t fool around: you can only leave your home for a few reasons and you need to carry an attestation form stating why. You can be fined for violations.

International travel for cycling is stressful enough for me without the potential Covid complications. There is the bike transport issue. What cycling clothes to take for uncertain weather. All the stress of tandem cycling, where as the pilot anything that goes wrong is my responsibility. Because if Stoker isn’t happy…

No one knows what the rules are going to be if and when it is possible for a US tourist to fly to Europe. But negative Covid tests 72 or 48 hours before flights are a near certainty, as is some kind of still to be determined ‘Covid Passport’. And who wants to travel if the restaurants are closed, or there is a curfew, or the attractions you want to see are shut tight? What about the possibility of getting quarantined or locked down in a foreign country?

Our France trip this year hasn’t been officially cancelled, but it is on life support. Groundhog Day…

I have a friend whose youngest daughter just started riding her first training wheel bike. That is an exciting moment for any parent.

This friend wants to ride with her daughter. She has an old abandoned Specialized Rockhopper stowed away in a barn. I offered to try to bring it back from the dead.

When I first saw it the project seemed hopeless. The chain was completely rusted, and there were spots of rust on every unpainted nut or bolt or part. The rubber handlebar grips had turned to a sticky goo that stuck to my hand on contact. The bike was incredibly dirty. The tires were falling apart.

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But I decided to give it a shot. First I removed the tires and checked the wheels. They spun fairly smoothly and looked reasonably true. I took off the rusty chain. Then I got some rags and brushes and Simple Green and a garden hose and went to work.

Most of the grime yielded to my efforts, and from the ashes the Phoenix emerged looking almost like a bike again. I sprayed Tri Flo on every pivot point on the bike, hoping the shift levers and cables weren’t frozen in place.

I made a quick trip to Lodi Cyclery to get new tires, tubes, rim strips, bar grips and a chain. Back home I put on the new tires, installed the chain and put the rear wheel back on the bike, then checked the shifting. Incredibly the rear derailleur worked fine, at least for a recreational bike.

But the front shifting required more effort. At first it wouldn’t work at all. This old bike uses ‘rapid fire’ thumb shifters, and the front derailleur wasn’t moving. I sprayed everything with Tri Flo and let it soak in overnight.

The next afternoon I gave it another try. I removed the front derailleur cable and clicked the lever into each of its three positions. It pulled the cable as it was supposed to. Next I manually moved the front derailleur through its range of motion without the cable attached. It was very stiff, but after a bit of manipulation it loosed up and started to move more smoothly. I reattached the cable and voila, we have front shifting again! A small turn of the high limit screw and we are good to go.

Next I adjusted the brakes, tightened the headset, and took the Rockhopper for a test ride on Brumby Road. Everything was nice and smooth and quiet. The bike shifted fine and rode along quite nicely. Back from the dead!

Later that evening my friend brought her daughter to pick up the bike. Mom and child are both excited to be able to roll along together. And while I am no great mechanic it was fun to use what skills I have on a project with such a happy outcome. From abandoned in a barn to a place of honor in a garage, a Rockhopper Resurrection!

We are approaching the first anniversary of The Time of the Covid, and I’m beginning to suffer from vaccine envy. I know a lot of people over 65, and most of them have already had at least one dose. Stoker got her first dose and her second is scheduled for next Friday. My parents got both of theirs, and since they have friends in the same fortunate situation they are going to have a small get together of vaccinated people on Sunday. Something Stoker and I haven’t done in a year.

I don’t mind waiting my turn and I completely support the vaccine equity program promoted by our soon to be recalled governor. I’m always on board for social justice until it reaches into my pocketbook. My only concern is that I wish I could get a shot soon enough to travel to France in May.

In January 2020 Stoker went to Kenya on safari to kick off what was supposed to be a big travel year for us. 6 cycling weeks in France starting in early May. I was going to go back to France in August to ride in the Pyrenees. Stoker was going to go to South Dakota around the same time. Then in November we were going on a long cruise (28 days) from Lima to Buenos Aires, including a side trip to Machu Pichu. None of that happened.

Air France gave us a voucher good for future travel, which sits in my France folder, so far unused. I left all the money I paid 44 5 with them as a retainer for future travel. France Bike Rentals, owner of Modestine, didn’t give us a refund but credited the 900 euros toward future rentals. I had paid for rooms in a hotel in Montpellier and got vouchers that may or may not be honored if we ever get there. Our Malaucene landlady moved our booking to May 2021, which is starting to look a bit dubious too. The French border is closed to many nations, including the US. And the cafes are all closed anyway.

When the cruise was cancelled Regent Seven Seas told us we could get a 125% credit towards a future sailing. Or we could get our money back if we were so foolish to turn down this incredible offer, although they put it much more nicely. We took the money. Four months later there are still no sailings.

We postponed an entire year of planned travel expenses and consequently have an unexpected cash flow surplus. So one night Stoker said she wanted an endless pool. This is an above ground large tank with a pump to generate a current that you can swim against, a kind of aquatic treadmill.

She was shocked when I immediately said yes. I didn’t even express reservations or try to talk her out of it. I have some very nice cycling toys and she deserves it and we can afford it.

But like most projects, when it comes time to actually get it done, I have to get involved. We needed to see where the pool would fit in our yard, so I made a frame mock up out of PVC and duct tape. We quickly realized we would need a larger concrete area, so I had to find a concrete contractor. I built the forms and put in the rebar myself to save money and the concrete guy said I did it perfectly. Stoker was impressed and kind of amazed that I could do that.

I also had to meet with the electrician, since this pool needs more power and a separate service box. I saw him before we pored the concrete and he told me what kind of conduit and sweeping elbow I needed to put in prior to pouring. I’m going to dig about 15 feet of trench, 18 inches deep, from the edge of the concrete to the wall where the wire will emerge from the crawl space.

The slab was poured yesterday. The pool is supposed to come in June. Stoker and I are not alone among the stuck at home crowd. If people have money and can’t spend it on travel they look inward, and anything related to home improvement is in short supply. The guy selling us the pool said this is his busiest year and he literally has nothing to sell for immediate delivery.

The pool, as I said, is supposed to come in June. We will take delivery after we get back from France. Or perhaps this year’s travel will also be postponed. If so I wonder what is next on the Brumby Betterment agenda? Whatever Stoker comes up with it will mean work for me.

Riding in a group, or ‘peloton’ is fun. But it can be dangerous, especially if some of the riders are inattentive or do not follow group ride etiquette and protocols. That happened on Sunday.

We were riding south on Alpine Road between Live Oak and Eight Mile. I was in front, Margaret was on my wheel, and Marlin was third wheel. I could see them in my mirror, but Marlin is a big guy and I have no idea who was behind him or in what order. I was setting a nice pace but deliberately not going so hard as to drop anyone.

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There is a really horrendous pothole on that stretch of road. It is wide and deep and often in the shade of an oak tree, which makes it very hard to see. I know where it is, so as I approached it I called out “Pothole” and pointed down at the pavement on the right side of my bike. I also moved gently to the left to skirt the thing.

Now once the person if front does this, the riders behind him/her are supposed to follow suit so that the notice goes down the line. There were 9 or 10 of us in the group, and those behind Marlin could not possibly see my signal; he is a BIG guy.

Apparently that did not happen. The last two riders hit the hole dead center. The good news is that they are both experienced cyclists and kept control and did not crash. The bad news is that they got 4 flat tires. When you hit a hole that deep the tire bead separates from the rim and the inner tube, which is under pressure, fills the gap. When the bead snaps back the tube is pinched, hence the term ‘pinch flat’.

The two riders were a more than a mite irritated, understandably. I felt really bad even though I did what I was supposed to. In the post mortem, Marlin said he saw me point to the right and heard me, that he saw Margaret point to the right and slide to the left behind me, while he called out and pointed to the left as he moved to the right, which is perfectly acceptable. You can avoid the hazard on either side as long as you point it out. But somewhere after that the chain of communication had a weak link.

This post is not to accuse or assail anyone’s riding skills. It is just a reminder that if we are riding in a group we have a responsibility to the riders behind us to point out and warn them of trouble they cannot see. Sometimes potholes are hard to see, especially if they are in the shade, so riders might not always get a warning. But if you see something, point out something.

And if you see someone in front of you point out a hazard, do like the stage announcer said in Woodstock: Pass it on.

Some days you’ve got it, some days you’ve got most of it, and some days you haven’t got it at all. The French say ‘un jour sans’ for an off day, and Saturday that was me.

I started from home and rode to Linden to meet the Stockton Bike Club ride at Orlando’s. My plan was to do a metric century (62 miles) to start getting trained for the long rides I plan to do in France in May and June. There is little chance that trip is going to happen, but I try willingly to suspend disbelief.

The wind was already blowing at 8 am. but it was mostly behind me. It was out of the Northwest, which meant that we were going to have quite a bit of headwind and crosswind to deal with.

When we got to Escalon Belota Road I almost turned around. Going downhill to the Shelton Road intersection is normally a fast stretch of riding, but there was such a big headwind that I could barely do 14 mph. I couldn’t hold anyone’s wheel and my friends disappeared up the road. A big double wheeled pickup passed me going at least 70 mph and less that 3 feet away from me, which didn’t help my mood even if he didn’t manage to knock me off the road.

Along Shelton Road I got dropped again. When we reached Weimer Road and Hwy 26, my companions continued up Ospital Road into more of that miserable wind, but I decided I’d had enough. To get home I have to do 25 miles and only 7 of those are downwind.

But part of that downwind riding included the Shelton Road Climb Strava Segment. My Garmin is programmed to automatically inform me when it starts and stops. With such a big tail wind I thought I could probably do a pretty good time and rescue something from what was turning out to be a very uncomfortable ride.

So I hit the hill hard and between my 311 watts and the big tailwind, I managed to get 3rd overall. If ever a record needed as asterisk that one certainly did. Drafting behind a car or motorbike or e-bike to set a PR seems like cheating, but the tailwind is just part of the course so I don’t feel guilty. Well perhaps a little.

My friend Steve is a really fine fellow and a strong rider. He is excellent company and it is a pleasure to converse with him. We laugh a lot even when we are drinking iced tea. He is also one of the most intelligent and practical people I know, and he can install or fix almost anything. Stoker wishes I had a fraction of his DIY skills.

But his cycling fashion sense is abysmal.

For one thing, he wears a wide brimmed hat under his cycling helmet. He says it is for sun protection, but he slathers on the sunscreen too and I suspect the only thing the hat does is slow him down. This aerodynamic atrocity might be a good thing though; he is a strong rider and hard for me to keep up with.

But his signature style sin is socks. He does not wear tights or knickers, but he covers most of his leg below the knee with an incredible assortment of outrageous hosiery.

Recently he produced some pairs with a superhero motif, capes and all. The two on the right below are batman and superman. On a recent ride one of the batman capes got caught in his chain and was dislocated. If he had crashed I can see the headline: Cyclist brought down by The Caped Crusader’s Cape.

I tell you, sometimes it is a trial to ride behind him. If thine eye offend thee…

This is not a political blog. Once upon a time I thought mathematics wasn’t a political subject. But times change…and guilt must be expunged.

First a little herstory: In 1978 I completed my Bachelor of Science degree in mathematics from the University of California, Davis. I was quite proud of that accomplishment at the time. These days as I struggle with balancing the checkbook or doing a killer sudoku puzzle, I think the person who received that piece of paper must have been someone else.

Little did I realize that by choosing to study mathematics, I was contributing to ‘capitalist, imperialist and racist views’.

But according to the Oregon Department of Education, that is exactly what I was doing! Here is an excerpt:

The Oregon Department of Education (ODE) recently encouraged teachers to register for training that encourages “ethnomathematics” and argues, among other things, that White supremacy manifests itself in the focus on finding the right answer.

The concept of mathematics being purely objective is unequivocally false, and teaching it is even much less so,” the document for the “Equitable Math” toolkit reads. “Upholding the idea that there are always right and wrong answers perpetuate objectivity as well as fear of open conflict.”

It also encourages teachers to “center ethnomathematics,” which includes a variety of guidelines. One of them instructs educators to “identify and challenge the ways that math is used to uphold capitalist, imperialist, and racist views.

I now see how insensitive and bigoted I was, trying so hard to find the ‘right’ answers to math problems. It was racist of me to strive to prove theorems instead of recognizing that ‘logic’ is in the eye of the beholder.

Since I don’t want anyone to think I am a racist, imperialist, or a capitalist (which is probably the most offensive ‘ist’ of all these days), I hereby publicly renounce my mathematics degree. I also vow no longer to seek the right answer when balancing the checkbook or doing a sudoku. I hope these small steps contribute to the cause of ‘Equitable Math’.