Two bikes

When I started at Georgia State University in 1971, after the first quarter I roomed with my friend Tom in an apartment a few miles from the campus. Georgia State is in the heart of downtown Atlanta, not far from the capitol building. There is no parking anywhere near the campus. At that time, students were allowed to park in lots near the stadium, about a mile away. If you wanted to park on campus, you had to ride a bicycle. So I did. I bought a cheap, heavy 10-speed from Sears. It was about as crude as a bicycle can be, but I rode it almost every day until I graduated in 1973. I rode it rain or shine, cold or hot, in heavy traffic or light.

After graduation in the spring of 1973, I got a job as a newspaper reporter in Augusta, Ga., on The Augusta Chronicle (the “The” is part of the name). I started running then, but I still wanted to ride a bike, so I got some bicycling magazine review editions and decided on a Peugeot PX-10E. It was a nice, mid-level bike, not the cheapest and not the most expensive, not the best and not the worst. But it rated pretty highly, and I liked it. So I saved my money. That summer I found one and paid $270 for it, exactly twice my weekly salary.

Here it is.

My old Peugeot, without a front tire

My old Peugeot, without a front tire

This was a pretty serious bicycle at the time. It had tubular tires, also called sew-ups or glue-on tires. They were the lightest bicycle tire you could use. The tire had thin edges instead of a hard bead that holds it to the rim. It was sewn up around an inner tube that was so thin you could almost see through it. And then, since it didn’t have a bead, the tire was glued to the rim. I read that it was possible to repair a flat on one of these tires, but I never tried. I always just got a new tire and glued it on.

The seat was made of the hardest leather I have ever felt. The bicycling magazines said this was the best type of seat. They said if you rode enough, it would soften and shape itself to your own shape. I do not believe this. I soaked it in oil, pounded it with a hammer and drilled holes into it. It was still as hard as a block of wood. If I had tried to ride on that saddle long enough to soften it, I am sure I would have had serious, permanent nerve damage in my groin. I gave up and replaced it with a softer saddle.

Since it was French, it could have only French components. The derailleurs worked well enough as long as they lasted, but eventually they just sort of fell apart. Since they were French, of course a modern Japanese rear derailleur wouldn’t just bolt on. I had to jury rig it.I’ And eventually I got tired of replacing tires, so I switched the rims for clinchers, the standard type of bicycle wheel and tire that you see on virtually every bicycle today. It’s hard for me to believe now, but I actually laced the spokes to the new rim, tightened them and trued the wheels all by myself. I did a pretty good job, too.

I rode my Peugeot for a long time. When I quit the newspaper business and went back to school at Georgia Tech, I found a place to live that was only a few miles from school, and I commuted on my bike again. When I got a job in Huntsville, Al., in 1986, I brought my bike with me. When my knees started giving me problems, I started biking instead of running. At that time I rode a 20-mile course and at times actually averaged 20 mph over the course. It was nothing compared to a real bicyclist. I knew one at work who put more miles on his bike than on his car.

After riding my Peugeot for 20 years, I bought new bike. I got this Trek in about 1993.

My "new" bike

My “new” bike

I can’t remember how much I paid for it. I’m sure it was several times what the old Peugeot cost, but I guess spending the money then just didn’t make as big an impact on me as it did in 1973.

It has an aluminum frame instead of steel. When I first rode it I was surprised at how much better it felt than the old Peugeot. I haven’t ridden since summer before last, but I’m sure when the weather gets warmer again I will pick it up. This area is very popular with bicyclists. They like climbing Fouche Gap Road, and the ride around Texas Valley is nice.

As you can see, I kept the Peugeot. I haven’t ridden it since I got the Trek, but I just can’t bring myself to get rid of it. The Trek is my current bicycle, and I’m pretty sure it will be my last. Maybe one day when I get old and decrepit and I’ll sell both of them. Or maybe not.

Friday Felines

Chloe didn’t want her picture taken. We tried to get one when she was sitting behind the couch, but she ran away and hid under the entertainment center. She figured she couldn’t be seen under there, what with that big, old cat figurine in the way.

Pay no attention to the cat behind the cat

Pay no attention to the cat behind the cat

Fog, glorious fog

On overcast or rainy days around here, it’s fairly common for the bottoms of the clouds to be lower than the top of Lavender Mountain. Those low clouds become thick fog for us up here on the mountain. Sometimes the fog closes in and visibility drops to a few dozen yards. We have had that kind of weather several times over the last few days.

We have flood lights on the corners of the house and some bright low-voltage spot lights at ground level behind the house. When I walk the dogs around the house late on a foggy night, I cast a shadow on the fog itself. It’s hard to get a decent photograph of it. This is the best I could do.

My shadow in the fog

My shadow in the fog

I had to enhance this image in Photoshop Elements. That caused a lot of noise in the image that makes the fog seem grainy. But one thing you can see is the brightness of the fog around my shadow.

This is what you get when you use a flash. The reflected light completely washes out anything in the scene, and the resulting image is nothing but noise.

Nothing but fog

Nothing but fog

Zeke sat down to wait for me while I fiddled with the camera. I tried to get a shot of him, but, even though he was close and there did not seem to be much fog between us, this is all I could get.

Zeke in the fog, waiting patiently

Zeke in the fog, waiting patiently

I took shot of the front of the house. It was a kind of neat scene, but it was also a hard image to get, especially with the little point-and-shoot camera I was using.

The front of the house

The front of the house

All of these images illustrate some of the interesting things that happen when light goes through fog. The effects are caused by the scattering of light from water drops. Water drops tend to scatter light strongly back towards the source. That’s what happened when I used the flash; a lot of light was scattered (reflected) right back at the camera, flooding the sensor and washing out anything that otherwise have been visible in the scene.

Light is also scattered strongly into the forward direction, that is, the direction that the light was originally traveling. When you see a bright light in a foggy scene, like the floodlights in the picture of the front of our house, you will probably notice that the light itself looks bright, but there is also a lot of glare around the light. That is light being forward scattered.

The way light is scattered into all directions around a water drop is called the scattering phase function. If you could see it plotted, you would see that some light is scattered into all directions around a water drop, but there is a lot more in the backward (towards the light source) and forward directions.

All this is fairly wonky, but it leads to some really neat things, like, for example, the glory. The glory has been noted for hundreds, if not thousands of years, mainly in regions with high mountains where the clouds are sometimes lower than the tops of the mountains. If a person is on the top of a mountain, and there are clouds below the top of the mountain, and the sun is behind his back, sometimes if he looks down towards the clouds, he will see his shadow cast on the clouds, and there will be something that looks like a halo around his head. That is the glory.

If two people are standing together looking down at their shadows, each one will see a glory only around his own body. It’s easy to understand why someone who doesn’t know what causes a glory to think that it must mean that the person who sees it is special.

Probably the most common place to see glories today is from an airliner. If the sun is in the right place, and the plane is flying over clouds, and you are in the right seat to see the plane’s shadow, you will probably see a glory around the shadow of the plane.

There are several explanations for the glory, but they seem unnecessarily complicated to me. It seems to me that the scattering phase function explains it pretty well. When the light is coming from directly behind you, your head will cast a shadow, but the light that passes around your head will be scattered strongly back towards the source; in other words, directly back towards you. Thus you will see a bright area around the shadow of your head. The glory is often colored, which also doesn’t seem to require a very complicated explanation, since a similar effect can be seen in every rainbow.

You can see a more pedestrian version of this almost any time the sun is out. Just stand so that you can see your own shadow. Most of the time whatever surface you are standing on will tend to reflect light more strongly directly back towards the source than in other directions. This will cause the ground or other surface to look brighter right around the shadow of your head. This is often a subtle effect, but if you look carefully you ought to be able to see it. A roughish surface, like grass, is better than a smooth surface like a concrete patio.

So, when you’re out looking around, keep looking up, but don’t forget to look down sometimes, too.

Our own brand of deer hunter

There are lots of deer around our neighborhood. We see them just about every time we drive in the evening on Technology Parkway, which goes through an industrial park developed on Berry College land. We see their bodies fairly often where cars have hit them, and have even seen one as it was hit. I hit one myself further out Huffaker Road. Mine survived long enough to jump up and run away. Several hang out near our house. Some of them have decided that our shrubs are a buffet, like they did a few years ago during the worst part of our drought.

Deer season for firearms opened here in October and lasts until January 1. Berry College, which owns 27,000 acres, has three short firearm seasons with 1000 permits for the first two and 750 for the third. Berry College extends along Lavender Mountain fairly close to us. It’s more than a stone’s throw away, but certainly within a bullet’s range.

Aside from the damage the deer cause our shrubbery, I am pretty much neutral on deer hunting. I don’t hunt and don’t really understand the appeal, but that’s a personal shortcoming rather than a judgment. Several of my coworkers hunt deer and they seem to be pretty normal people.

I’m sure most deer hunters are responsible citizens, but this area seems to have a significant population of a different kind. I mentioned seeing partially butchered deer carcasses dumped along Fouche Gap Road. I have seen them in prior deer seasons, but this season is the worst. I counted five confirmed and a possible sixth so far this year. There are four (or possibly five) within two miles on Fouche Gap Road and one on the few hundred yards that Wildlife Trail extends from our house to its dead end.

Apparently the practice is to take some meat off the main body of the carcass, leaving the rib cage exposed and the legs and the head untouched. Then the remains are tossed out of the back of a truck. Probably a truck, but who knows? Maybe these people haul dead deer in the back seats of their cars.

All I know for sure is that I don’t want to meet these people in the woods. Or any other place, for that matter.