The first time we did the Rosarito-Ensenada, I borrowed Jessie's bike, and was pretty pleased with myself just for having finished.  (I'd never in my life ridden 50 miles before, and hadn't done more than 10 at most before our 25-mile practice ride the week before.)

The second time, this past spring, I used a red mountain bike that I'd bought off ebay for $30.  I'd originally bought the red one to use as parts for the blue one of the same model I'd gotten from security for free (they collect abandoned bikes left around campus and then, after a waiting period to make sure they aren't still owned, redistribute them), since its shock was broken and missing a piece.  I ended up being able to fix the shock with a large washer and the band saw, but the red one was in better shape, so I used that.  The ride was WAY harder than I remembered it being, though; I wasn't sure if it was the bike's fault, or the fact that we didn't do a practice ride.

This time, I did about a six-mile practice ride a few days before, with the red bike, since that was all I had time for.  It was OK, but my ass was getting pretty sore even after such a short distance.  Then, I noticed that the red bike is actually bigger than the blue one.  I discussed with Brian the likelihood that the blue one would fall apart if I tried to ride it 50 miles, he helped me condition the chain and assess the overall cohesiveness of the blue bike, and I decided to give it a try.

Turns out, it makes a HUGE difference to have an Eve-sized bike.  The ride was the easiest it's ever been, and I had a great time the whole way through.  The front wheel occasionally made odd noises, but it didn't detach and go rolling away down the mountain, so it was all good.

That isn't to say that we actually finished in record time.  I think our time was 5 hours, 30 minutes?  If so, that would be faster than last year but still slower than our first ride.  This rather surprised us, as it felt like we were going pretty fast, keeping up a good pace on the hills, and passing a fair number of people throughout.  And even though we started late (due to having to ride BACK to the starting line, since our shuttle driver for some reason dropped us off a ways in front of it, and we A. needed to pick up our packets and B. wanted to start at the starting line), we still kept well in front of the SAG truck.

I guess the stops just added up.  We stopped probably about eight times: at two of the aid stations for very dilute Powerade, a couple times to get the chain of my bike back on track, a few times for granola bars and/or photos, and once for strawberry and melon paletas -- partly because we'd managed to forget the fruit pies in the car and Brian needed sugar, and partly because paletas are delicious.

Back in Ensenada, we feasted on steak tacos and churros, and attempted to collect our souvenir medals and t-shirts.  We had only a 25 percent success rate, though, they were out of medals, as well as medium t-shirts.  But at least they were doing medals this time, and we'll be getting those and Brian's shirt in the mail.  We walked around a bit, looked a the ships, took a few turns on the huge inflatable slide-and-climbing wall set up in the park near the finish line fiesta, and headed back to the U.S.

A little over a month ago, after much warning, Caltech security collected all the abandoned bicycles that had been hanging out among the graduate student apartments. (There were a surprising number; I don't know how many years' worth it was.) Once collected, the bikes were moved to the parking garage next to the security office. There, they could be "tagged" by anyone at Caltech who needed/wanted a bike.

I found a nice little mountain bike there, affixed to it a piece of paper on which I wrote my name, and then came back after the requisite 30 days to see if it was still there, or if it turned out that it hadn't actually been abandoned after all. And there it was! Score, free bike.

The bike did have one major problem, though: the rear shock was disconnected, and some undetermined number of pieces seemed to be missing. I had to hold the seat of the bike up as I walked it back to my office, let it fall down on top of the rear wheel. Clunk. I parked the bike out of the way in our old lab while I figured out how to proceed.

Not long after, I was came across a near-identical model of bike while I was walking across campus, so I could examine what the shock might have looked like intact. It appeared as though the only thing missing was a metal disc for the end of the spring to rest on. Fortunately, we have a drawer in lab of enormous washers, so I appropriated one of those and got to work. Everything was going well, except that I couldn't get the shaft of the shock to screw back into the place it was supposed to go. I tried to do at a number of different relative orientations of me and the bike, but had no success. Finally, I decided to remove the pieces so I could get a better look.

Then I was able to see that the first couple rows of threads on the end of the shaft were rather mauled. They were squished together in a couple places, and overall disinclined to be screwed into anything. I got out some wire cutters and started carving. I was able to make some headway, but not enough. So I decided to try the band saw.

I wasn't entirely convinced that this was a good plan. After all, aren't threads delicate things that need to be perfectly aligned to work properly? I wouldn't have been surprised if my efforts had actually made the problem worse. But I was getting desperate. (Read: impatient.) So I held the shaft up to the band saw, aiming for the places where the bent threads needed to be coaxed back into position. Or turned into metal dust.

It did start looking better, so I tried screwing it into the piece to which it mates. And it worked! Soon, I had the bicycle reassembled and was riding around the hallway.

Good thing, too: now I'll have something to ride at the Rosarito-Ensenada in two weeks.