Climate Control

Climate Control, Anyone?

Out doing errands today -- landfill, grocery store -- I remembered this blog. I was surprised, just now, on opening it to find that the last time I posted was on 1 January 2018. That post was about how cold it was that day and also about how feeling cold is a relative and subjective thing.

Today in coastal South Carolina it's hot. And humid. It's been a hot summer. Eighteen months ago it was too cold to ride more than thirty minutes; today it's too hot to be outside for much more than the same amount of time. Total time in the saddle was ninety minutes. I did my errands early, so it wasn't bad.

That's misleading: "bad." Actually, pulling a loaded Burley in heat is okay. The heat doesn't bother or distract me. I'm busy enough concentrating on the load, the road surface, the traffic. I wouldn't mind if the landfill were farther from my house. I like feeling the sweat drench my shirt (yellow, nylon, long-sleeve). I like the light rumble and whirr of the trailer. I like not having to feel as if I have to be pedaling harder, going faster. It's my favorite type of riding. Using my bike for chores.

I'm also aware, however, that being exposed to the sun from about ten a.m. to five p.m. is dangerous. That's the bad part. Sun block is bad, and being outside without wearing sun block is also bad. Dehydration is bad.

Without thinking about such things, I coast up to a red light. I'm dripping. Drivers are sealed in cool boxes, totally sequestered from sound and weather. Fine, fine, enjoy your comfort. You can have it. Play your devices. Sink into your leather seats. Chill with Alexa. But do pay attention, please; do yield to me when you should; I'm accelerating through the intersection as fast as I can.

The bike moves smoothly through thermal waves rising from the asphalt. The trailer runs nimble and fine with its cargo of soon-to-be recycled goods. I arrive sooner than I'd like.

Later, same with the grocery store, Kroger's, in point of fact. That's a bit farther, and the challenge of a bigger, busier highway, an unavoidable section of my route, adds a little suspense to the trip. Because I don't expect to buy too much, I've left the Burley at home, opting for panniers and bags on my Trek 520. It's hotter now, though not quite 9:00, and the bike is heavier (and, on the return, will be heavier still), but there's no trailer behind me, so it all evens out.

The worst part of shopping by bike, especially in the summer, is walking into the store. As far as I'm concerned, most businesses in the south (and by businesses I include institutions like hospitals and schools) keep their thermostats too low. It should be set at 72 degrees or so. Not 64! Management and administration across the region don't seem to have heard about the environmental impact of ignoring federal guidelines. What the eff, I say, amazed anew as I study the self-coddling and profligate infrastructure of civilization while biking in and around it. I am part of it without approving of too many things to count. The things I see while riding my bicycle that I don't see while driving my car!

So I enter Kroger's having transported myself on a heavy bike in humid 90 degree conditions. The low-60s temp whacks me, really sets me back. I have to push myself into the store. I feel the sweat turn creepy on my skin. Natural cooling is flustered by unnatural air. My sopping head takes the biggest hit.

I'm inside for about fifteen minutes. I like the store a lot. I just wish it were warmer inside.

After paying, the reverse happens. The heat is waiting outside like a stalker I can't avoid. It strikes me like a full body press. No time to protest about anything, no way to fight back. My concern is for the milk products. They will sour quickly. I zip them up in the cooler bag, strap it on the rack, fill the panniers with everything else, and, thirty pounds heavier, launch into the parking lot, cadence patiently, begin eight slow but happy miles, into a headwind, home.

Roadysseus

13 July 2019