The Andes Bike Shop

It used to be a small carpet store, and I remembered it having a certain mideast flavor. It sat at the corner of a neighborhood strip mall, well set back from a main road, behind the Wendy’s and the McDonalds, so much so that you could barely make out the names on the store fronts when you drove by on Darnestown Road.  I remember having gone to the carpet store once to ask if they would like to put an advertisement in the program book for the annual show of the chorus.  The proprietor said that he would look into it but he never got back to me.  That was then.

But then we noticed that something had changed. It was when we were driving to the park for one our Sunday morning walks along the towpath.  There was now a new sign over  the storefront that simply said “Bike Shop”.  A bike shop in our neighborhood was something new, and it was a surprising, if not puzzling, thing to me.  This was a curiosity.  Running a local bike store had to be a tough gig, especially when you were competing with big nationwide companies and their large and well stocked stores.   Local bike stores have come and gone in other neighborhoods.  Why had folks opened a small bike shop in this location?  I resolved to pay these guys a visit some time.

The opportunity arose after my first training ride of the year last week.  While I had been wanting to go the bike store for a while, it was only after that ride that I found the focus to remember in a timely manner my intent to visit the store.  So I stopped by after the ride.

I stepped into a small space that was filled with used bikes of all kinds, for all ages, and for all the different kinds of biking experiences that were possible.  There was also some other biking gear and equipment sitting around on stands and on shelves on the walls.  The place had a crowded feel to it.  Behind a counter was a young man working on a bike. Music was playing on a computer in the background.

I started the conversation by noting that I had stopped by because of curiosity, and asked the guy how long the shop had been open. “Ten months,” he said.  He spoke with a very distinct but light accent.  He seemed very friendly and open.  I told him about the bike ride I had done last year.  That seemed to break the ice.   He turned down the music and started chatting.  And gradually the story emerged.

The store was owned and operated by his father and him.  Their primary business was not selling new equipment, but in taking care of and maintaining bicycles for people.  He loved touring on his bicycle. He said he was the kind of person who would pack his bike with all the equipment that he would need for a ride, including what was needed for outdoor stays and cooking, and just go.  He said that if I were interested in a bike, he could put one together from parts obtained from used bikes that he could get from his contacts, and that he could fit the bike with exactly the right kind of equipment I would need for the type of ride I was interested in doing.  And he could do this for a reasonable price.  He was very conversational, but I also noticed a certain ease and sense of confidence that he had with what he was doing.

I got the sense that he was enjoying being in business with his dad. He gave me a business card as I was preparing to leave.  The card said “Andes Bike Shop”, and the name on the card was Oscar Ramirez.  I asked him if that was his name, and he noted that both he and his dad had the same name.  When I asked him why the name of the shop did not appear on the sign up front, he said that this was something his dad had decided.  And even in that comment I could sense the connection he had with his dad.  It was a connection of love and respect.  There seemed to be a sense of togetherness and trust in their activity of running the store.

I was curious about the Ramirezes and the Andes Bike Shop, and about what it was that had brought them and their store to our little corner of Gaithersburg.   I had asked the young Oscar where they resided, and he had mentioned that they  lived nearby.   I still wondered what triggered their decision to set up the store in its current location.  I did manage to find this video about them.

This happens to be an immigrant story, and I find stories like this somewhat inspiring.  I will perhaps go out of my way to give them some business even if there are other less expensive options.  We need more of these kinds of small family businesses to survive and thrive.  You have to believe that it is not always about the money.

 

Carson City, NV

The visit to Carson City in Nevada was an afterthought that occurred only after we had already started our vacation, after we had left San Francisco on our multi-day drive through California and Nevada.  Our visit there strengthens my opinion that a vacation experience is not just about going to well known places and looking for the extraordinary.  Sometimes you can enjoy the simple experiences and things that would not be considered noteworthy in the normal course of events.

We had spent the night in Reno and were about to head south in the morning, along the eastern shore of Lake Tahoe, on our way to Mammoth Lakes for our stopover for that night.  The thought had occurred to me that it would be nice to take a short detour to Carson City if possible just for the heck of it.  After all, Carson City is the capital of the state of  Nevada.  The only other item of note as far as we were concerned was the fact that Mark Twain had spent a few years of his life there.  Still, we were curious. Perhaps there was something new to learn by visiting the town.

But a detour to Carson City from Lake Tahoe would take up additional time just for the driving even though the two places were close by, especially if we wanted to visit the entire eastern shore of the lake (which would involve driving back and forth between the two places).    We could save time visiting just the top half or the bottom half of the east shore of Lake Tahoe, while cutting east-west between the two destinations just once at the half-way mark.

We awoke to threatening skies on the morning of the drive.  This was a view from our hotel room in Reno.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASince driving on the winding roads in the area of the lake in the rain was not likely to be fun, we made a quick decision to head straight down to Carson City and to try to get to Lake Tahoe later in the day.

Carson City looked quite underwhelming when we arrived.  It looked small and unimposing.   It did not look like the capital of a state to me!  The city appeared to have one main drag, Carson Street, that went from north to south, with a few smaller streets parallel to it, and others cutting across in a grid.  I could see no big buildings typical of a big town, let alone a capital city.  The houses were modest in size and older.  There was hardly any traffic on the main road.  The place certainly looked laid back, and as if it had seen better times.

It was time for us to learn more about Carson City.  We drove down Carson Street to the Visitor Center to get information.  We learned that Carson City was named after Kit Carson, and that one of the important historical markers in town was the mint which had now been converted into a section of the Nevada State Museum.  We got a map of the city and a description of a walking tour of about 2.5 miles that covered all the noteworthy sights in town.  (Yes, the town was small enough to be covered that easily!)  The path taken during the walk was called the Kit Carson Trail.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe kind lady at the visitor center told us that we could park almost anywhere, except at the visitor center where the meter lady would make an occasional appearance.  There was ample parking in front of the houses on the side streets.  It was certainly a nice change to be driving in a city where one could relax and not worry about some impatient person who wanted to get in front of you, or about finding a place to park.

We had a choice of going to the museum or taking a walk along parts of the Kit Carson trail.  We started with the walk since it was not raining at that time.  The main drag, Carson Street, was mostly empty of traffic.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAMany storefronts on the street looked like they were shuttered down and in a state of disuse.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWe walked past the obligatory casino in town.  It appeared to have seen better days (and this was true of most of the casinos we saw in small towns in Nevada).OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAYou can seen the sign for an abandoned casino next to Cactus Jack’s casino in the picture below.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe following building was the only one of note in that section of the strip.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe side streets had an equally empty feel about them.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAYou would have a hard time believing that you were in a capital city.

But in very short order we found ourselves on the grounds of the Nevada State Capitol.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWe did indeed see a few people in somewhat formal clothes walk in and out of the building, indicating that some sort of business of note was taking place in these offices.  This contrasted with the feel of the rest of the town itself.  It did not seem to take itself that seriously!

Our next stop was on one of the side streets off the main road, at an art gallery that Angela had found in the city guide.  The rain was beginning to fall steadily at this point, but we were OK since we had our rain gear with us.  I saw this other art gallery on the way.  It seemed to blend in well with the “small” nature of the place.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe building pictured below was our destination for this visit.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThey were having an exhibition of entries from a statewide art competition.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOn our way out of the exhibition, the lady who was manning the information table (a turn of phrase that might be considered inappropriate by some :-)) noted that she spent a lot of her time giving tours at the museum.  She then gave us a strong recommendation to spend some time there.  Seeing that the rain was not slowing down, we decided that this was indeed what we would do.

We continued our walk along the Kit Carson trail (marked in blue on the sidewalk) on our way to the museum.  The skies began to clear up a little bit (temporarily, as it turned out) as we walked.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWe passed the building where Mark Twain had lived for a few years.   (Mark Twain actually followed his brother, Orion Clemens, the first Secretary to the new government of the Territory of Nevada, to Carson City.)OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA The building appeared to be owned by an Insurance Company!

We continued to walk the back roads of the city.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERACloser to the museum, on Carson Street, we passed memorials for the Lincoln Highway, the first coast to coast highway, and the old Pony Express, the paths of both of which used to run through Carson City.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWe arrived at the museum, passing by the old mint building on our way to the entrance. The visit turned out to be quite interesting.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThey had a big section in the museum about the minting operations that are a part of the history of the city.  This mint worked primarily with silver, and it seems that the minting operations only lasted a few years.  This is a picture of a coin press machine which is still operational and used occasionally.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThey had a reconstruction of a mine at the lowest level of the museum.  This covered all aspects of the mining process including the construction of the underground structures, the extraction and supply processes, and the safety elements of the operation.  This is a picture of a slide that was used to move material from one level to another below it within the mine.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASilver and gold were mined in these parts, and mining used  to be a significant source of employment for people.

There was a section on natural history, including displays about animals and birds, and the about the geology of the area.  The place has a history of significant volcanic activity. They tackled the more recent history of human settlement in that area.  European arrival in Nevada is actually a very recent happening (in a relative sense).   They had a separate section in the museum put together from the Native American perspective (which can be quite different than the White Man’s way of thinking).  There is some tension even today between the Native Americans and the “modern world” in many regards.  The Native Americans try to live in harmony with their surroundings whereas modern man was (and still is) more intent on taking control over and exploiting their surroundings and resources.  We found out that whereas modern man has no hesitation or compunctions about digging up ancient Indian burial sites to study and try to understand life in olden times, the Native Americans believe that their ancestors are to be left alone in their quest for eternal peace in the afterlife.  Even though I have my own scientific curiosity,  I know where my sympathies lie.

The rain had returned with a vengeance as we prepared to leave the museum.  We headed out to a cafe that had been recommended to us for lunch.  It was called the L. A. Bakery Cafe and Eatery.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe place was a delightful surprise.  The family had opened the cafe in 2012, selling healthy foods with a light Mediterranean touch. The business seemed to have caught on and become a success with the local population.  From the plaques and other hangings on the walls, I gathered that they had received recognition from the local community and accolades from the local business groups for what they was doing.  They were in the process of expanding their business.  The food was really healthy and tasty.  (I wish I had taken a picture of my salad!)

It was still raining after lunch.  Given that we had stayed longer than we had anticipated in town, and since the weather was not really cooperating, we gave up on making the side trip to Lake Tahoe and decided to take the most direct route for Mammoth Lakes.

Since we had some more time on our hands because of the change in plans, I suggested that we visit the railroad museum, one of the two more significant tourist destinations in town noted in the tour guides (the other one was the state museum).  We found out as we were driving towards  the museum that we had arrived in town on the one day of the week that it was closed. We had to satisfy ourselves with a drive past in the rain.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThen it was on to Mammoth Lakes for an earlier arrival than originally planned.  The weather kept changing during the drive.  We even saw a rainbow at some point,OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAbut later on, as we climbed into the mountains, we also ran into a few heavy snowstorms that came out of nowhere and presented some fairly challenging driving conditions every once in a while. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA But I will leave the stories of our further adventures during this trip for another day.

The Mathematician Who Will Make You Fall in Love With Numbers | WIRED

The person who is the subject of this article has his own blog site:
https://mathyawp.wordpress.com/
**************************

The ancient Greeks argued that the best life was filled with beauty, truth, justice, play, and love. The mathematician Francis Su knows just where to find them.

Source: The Mathematician Who Will Make You Fall in Love With Numbers | WIRED

 

If You Drive Slow, You Can Get There Faster (4/29/2013)

And the three men I admire most:,
The father, son, and the holy ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died


(In case you are curious, the song from which these lines are taken is not about religion.  It is about three well regarded musicians who lost their lives in a plane accident in the 60s – Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and JP Richardson.)

I had just stopped under a tree after I got on the trail at Williamsport on the C&O Canal this morning.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe sun was out and a bird was singing away to glory, hidden in one of the branches.  As I was looking up, searching for it, a older lady, all wrapped up in warm clothes, came walking by and wished me good morning.  I gave up on the bird and started walking along with her.  She seemed to be grateful for the company.  She said that she usually walked a couple of miles, and she thanked me for walking with her.  She said that she was over 80 years old, and at that age, two miles was a good distance.  She looked fit and she was very chatty.  She had come across the river from West Virginia.  Apparently, her husband has big strides, and the two of them do not walk well together. So he goes in one direction while she goes in the other.  She informed me about the “happenings” along that section of the canal and about the work going on at the lock.  She only walked a short distance with me to the place where the woods began, and then turned back.  Sweet person!OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI saw a homeless person on the trail today.  It is the first time in many years that this has happened.  The lady I had walked with had told me about him, and so I was not completely surprised.  Apparently he is from the town of Williamsport.  He was sitting on a branch beside the trail eating what looked like a donut.   He appeared to have all his belongings on a trailer that was attached to his bicycle.  He seemed to be OK.  I was wondering if he was perhaps happier in his own way than some of us who have more material belongings.

I listened to an interview on the radio this morning as I was heading to the canal.  The person being interviewed was a poet, and she happened to mention the line in the subject line of this posting during that interview.  It was apparently uttered by her young daughter while on a drive, when their car was overtaken by another.   It was a moment of Zen…  Eventually, they overtook the other car when they were both stuck at a toll-booth.  But it did get me thinking, not specifically about driving slow, but about driving in the wrong direction, or driving towards an destination that does not make too much sense in the big picture, or even getting distracted and focusing on the wrong destination.  All of these get you to your destination later than you intended.

There was another interesting point made during the radio conversation, where the poet talked about asking some kids a simple question – can you talk about something in particular that you observed this morning?  Apparently, this question stumps the kids, and it can take some time to engage them properly in conversation on this topic.   This is because their senses are not totally engaged in what they are doing.  They are not paying attention. Perhaps it is true for adults also….

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
….

An American Tragedy – The Story of Kalief Browder

This is probably one of those postings which justifies the use of the tagline “Anything Goes” for my blog pages.  You should perhaps not continue any further if you are concerned about becoming unduly disturbed by unpleasant stuff.  In case you continue, please realize that what happened in this case was not an isolated incident.  This story points to systemic issues at many different levels. It is a result of the society, the politics, and the way of life, that we are willing to accept, for not just ourselves, but for everybody around us.
http://www.democracynow.org/2015/6/8/traumatized_by_3_years_at_rikers

If you are looking for more in-depth reporting on the case, and getting an better understanding for how truly screwed up our criminal justice system is, you can find it in the following articles.
http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/10/06/before-the-law
http://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/kalief-browder-1993-2015

I heard this story while watching a documentary about the 13th Amendment on Netflix.   I recommend it!

There is This Young Lady I Know

She is quite the remarkable young woman.  She gives of herself selflessly to the needy, indeed she has dedicated herself to their lives by getting a medical degree and finding a way to practice in their neighborhood in the inner city.  She lives among the poor in their neighborhood and thinks it is the best place to be, even committing herself for the longer term with a purchase of a place to stay among them.  She loves her place.  She lives a simple life and cares little for the material things in life that some of us crave for.  She is always cheerful when I see her.

She loves the people.  She will go out to the neighborhood hangout and play music with the local musicians.  She gets to know people at the coffee shop where she gets her morning cup of java.  She greets the people in the streets and they respond to her.  Indeed the locals know her and love her.  Her patients, the locals who are for the most part are the truly needy, appreciate her.  She has made the connection.

Her parents are proud of her, but they are also worried about her, and indeed a little exasperated with her, and her life choices.  She has a mind of her own and she is stubborn.  She is an independent lady.  She comes from a family of many siblings, all of whom display similar traits of selflessness.

We worry about her.  My wife says that the locals in the place where she lives will protect because she is loved, but there is always the concern about safety.

Her birthday was the day before yesterday. It was late in the evening when she was returning home from a celebration with friends at a local eatery.  Across the street she saw a local whom she knew. She hailed him.  He responded to the greeting and she told him that it was her birthday. He walked across the street to talk to her, wished her, and  asked her why she had not told him about it.  He would have gotten something for her for the occasion.  He said he still had something for her.  He opened up the bag in which he kept the trinkets that he sold at the local coffee shop and asked her to pick one as a birthday present. She gratefully accepted the present.  I will see you tomorrow, he said.  She replied that she would not see him for a few weeks because she was going to have a medical procedure the next day.  He wished her the best, and it must have been from the heart.

The next day was pretty tough for her, with a very long and rough medical procedure with long-term implications.  You think to yourself that people like her are most capable of handling these kinds of situations, but should be the last people who ought to be subjected to these kind of things.  They are the good of this earth.  They are remarkable. We should cherish them, and we should take care of them and protect them.  I wish her all the best.