J. took my bike to GoodSpeed Cycles in Homewood, where I met him after taking Metra for the first time in months. You’re supposed to wear a mask on the train. Most people did. Some, however, sported them on their chins. I’ve never known chins to spew droplets, but there are many things I’ve never known.
I’m getting new but different wheels and new but different tires, WTB ThickSlicks without tread. This will be . . . different. I also asked for new pedals since I knocked off a reflector a while ago. The woman at GoodSpeed is throwing in a new magnet for the speedometer. She didn’t see any problem with fixing the bike. It’ll take up to a couple of weeks to get the parts in (shortages thanks to COVID-19, which is why I’m getting new but different wheels — they’re what’s available). This is setting me back more than half the original cost of the bike, but it’s not optional for me.
Like me, the woman at GoodSpeed isn’t shocked by the theft of the wheels but by the idea the thief replaced them (with bad ones). I’m still gobsmacked by that. As an aside, the imposter front wheel is bent. No wonder someone needed new wheels.
What’s left of my baby
As an aside, I found what I am sure are my wheels and tires on a bike in the Flamingo’s bike room, but that may be a story for another day.
My ride in its happy place at Perennial Garden, pre-desecration
On the afternoon of a day that will be one for the history books (if there are any), I went out to fill my bike’s tires for the first time since my last ride in the autumn. Out to the building’s locked bike room, that is.
I unlocked the bike and moved it off the rack. When I started to fill the back tire, the gauge shot to 80, although usually it takes muscle, effort, and time to get it to the target of 60. Something didn’t feel right. It was similar to the scene in Star Trek‘s “That Which Survives” in which Scott says, “Mr. Spock, the ship feels wrong . . . it’s something I can’t quite put into words.”
I couldn’t spin the front tire to find the valve. When I found it by feel (most of the lights in the bike room aren’t working), it was missing the cap. The tire was flat, which was odd — my tires lose air over the winter, but they never go flat.
It was then I noticed the tires didn’t match.
And the wheels didn’t look like I remembered. The spokes were missing shine in a lot of places, and there was writing I didn’t recognize. I peeled back the front tire to find “Ritchey” underneath.
It hit me. Someone had stolen my wheels. While my bike was locked to the rack. They’d gone to the trouble of replacing them with old MTB wheels and mismatched tires. While my bike was locked to the rack. Someone with access to the building and the key to the bike room.
Unreal.
My beautiful heavy-duty wheels and fat Bontrager tires (to support my fat weight) — the ones that had carried me at least 400 to 500 miles. Gone. Forever.
I depend on my bike for transportation and mental health. I could have cried.
I did cry, later, when I double checked photos to make sure I wasn’t somehow mistaken.
It feels . . . wrong.
Later I went out to check both bike rooms, curious to see if my wheels had appeared on any of the other bikes. No, although they could have been out in use at the time I checked. I don’t know if I’ll have the heart to look again.
With the front wheel locked, I can’t walk it over to the Metra station to take to the bike shop in Homewood. Accessibility was part of the reason I’d chosen that shop. I’d have to ask J. for his help. If I didn’t know him, I don’t know what I’d do.
The bike shop’s site said they are open, but an appointment is required. I assumed this is to manage the number of people there and “social distancing” due to the COVID-19 pandemic. I thought I’d take an afternoon off later this week.
The woman who answered shot that down before I mentioned it. She volunteered that the next available appointment was June 18. JUNE 18. Nearly three weeks away. Three weeks of glorious spring weather away.
I made an appointment for the afternoon of June 19. I already know that if the bike can be fixed, I won’t be able to get the same wheels and tires. Sigh.
“If the bike can be fixed” is a question. I don’t know where damage was done or how much. I asked her if they have a comparable model to replace it. She came back with, “Possibly, but you may not be able to get one for quite a while. There’s a global bike shortage.”
Global. Bike. Shortage.
Later I looked it up.
In March, nationwide sales of bicycles, equipment and repair services nearly doubled compared with the same period last year, according to the N.P.D. Group, a market research company. Sales of commuter and fitness bikes in the same month increased 66 percent, leisure bikes jumped 121 percent, children’s bikes went up 59 percent and electric bikes rose 85 percent.
By the end of April, many stores and distributors had sold out of low-end consumer bikes. Now, the United States is facing a severe bicycle shortage as global supply chains, disrupted by the coronavirus outbreak, scramble to meet the surge in demand.
This late afternoon, we didn’t see as many different birds as on the previous visit. I suspect the migrants had moved on, many to the great boreal forests of Canada.
Wood duck drakeWood duck female with colorful accents
A great blue heron was fishing, catching and swallowing a meal as I watched.
Watching and waitingThe attackThe death gripThe maneuverDown the hatch with tell-tale neck bulge
As on the previous visit, I saw Canada geese with neck bands. One led her family into the lagoon and swam back and forth. I joked that she was trying to lose her entourage, which stuck to her no matter which way she went.
79P with goslings79P and goslings heading north79P turning around79P and goslings heading south
Another goose rested on one leg, then limped off. I assumed she was injured (and was calculating what I could do to help) when I realized she’s missing her left foot. There’s no way to know how it happened, but I would not be surprised if her leg had been entangled in fishing line at some point. The careless non-disposal of fishing line is a common problem in some forest preserves and could be one in the parks too.
58K resting on one leg as many birds do58K limps off, revealing she’s missing her left foot
I missed getting a decent shot of a great white egret that flew off in front of me, but I’m also fond of robins. With his dark head, this looks like a male.
Male American robin listening carefully
Finally, here are the certificates for the geese I reported.
Spotted at 59th and Stony Island; no photo79P had the half dozen goslings58K is missing her left foot
The plan was to go to Messenger Woods Nature Preserve again, but a slew of tornado and thunderstorm watches and warnings put me off. I stayed home, which let me witness this.
When European starlings and American robins would descend on the field next to us to feast on the stirred-up insects and invertebrates after a rain, my dad would say, “There aren’t as many robins as there used to be when I was growing up.”
On this day in Washington Park, I saw more warblers than robins, but I did spot this handsome fellow. More bird photos to follow.
When I go to Washington Park, I may find a few guys fishing and a few walkers or cyclists, but usually there aren’t many people around. It’s a shame because the Fountain of Time is a masterpiece, and the lagoons are gorgeous.
In this time of plague, though, Washington Park, which has remained open, is suddenly popular. When J. and I went in the late afternoon, people were barbecuing (couples and single families only), cycling, walking, dog walking, and, in some cases, peering at the trees with binoculars or cameras. No guys fishing that I recall.
Sometimes we see a great blue heron or a white egret, but this time I got my first good look at a different heron — the black-crowned night heron with its chunky build, stooped posture, and distinctive red eyes. They’re found in several places in Chicago — someone took a photo of one atop a bus shelter! — but they’re endangered in Illinois.
Black-crowned night heron
All by myself I managed to spot a few warblers, including several male yellowthroats, a palm warbler pretending to be a dandelion, and the back side of a magnolia warbler (plus the front side, but the photo is blurry). When I posed an ID question on the Chicago Audubon Society group page on Facebook, someone commented, “We have a warbler book that has, what I call, the underwear section. They call it the undertail patterns : ).” My warbler was sporting magnolia “underwear.”
Male common yellowthroatPalm warblerMagnolia warbler buttMagnolia warbler
A couple tried to tell me about a warbler they’d spotted that must have been rare or unusual, but I missed it and don’t even remember the name.
None of my wood duck platoon photos turned out, unfortunately, but here’s a striking pair.
Wood duck pair
Canada geese are ubiquitous in Hyde Park, especially near the lagoons. In this group, a few sported easily read neck bands. I reported the bands and got a few details back from the U.S. Geological Survey, of all organizations. Like teenagers, geese apparently stick with their friends.
Washington Park may not be the Magic Hedge or beach at Montrose Harbor, but it wasn’t a bad day after all.
