Kyle Banerjee's Blog

People say we live in a throwaway society where things are intended to be disposable, but that’s not entirely true. Today, our car passed the 200,000 mile mark. When we bought the car in 1995, we figured we’d have to replace it in 2001 or so. As it turns out, the car still runs great, and the only unscheduled repairs we had to pay for were a leaky water pump (which was scheduled for replacement at 180,000 miles anyway) and a outboard CV boot that was starting to crack. This car has thousands of parts, and each piston and valve has probably moved up and down around a billion times. We’re still using the original clutch.

Cars aren’t the only thing that last a long time. Practically all of us regularly use appliances, tools, furniture, utensils, clothing, and a variety of other products that we’ve had for decades.

Despite the fact that we have all this stuff that lasts forever, we buy more at a furious pace. Few people actually keep cars in garages anymore because they’re filled with junk.

While many people find all the junk we have undesirable from a conservation or aesthetic point of view, I think the bigger problem is what it does to our priorities. Most of us dedicate our lives to acquiring and keeping stuff at almost any personal cost.

As a society, we measure others by what they have rather than what they do. Whenever art, athletic achievements, or a number of other events are discussed in the popular press, attention immediately focuses on the money that changed hands rather than on the substance of what happened.

Arguably, we don’t own stuff — it owns us. Maybe a step right direction would be for all people over a certain age to get rid of something every time they acquire something.

Regardless of the problems associated with buying lots of stuff that lasts forever, I’d like to raise a glass to the people who designed and built our car. 200,000 trouble free miles is truly impressive, and it’s a testament to the fact that people can do good things if they set their minds to it.

Well, it finally happened — I failed to complete a ride. Yesterday, I attempted the Oregon Ultimate Road Ride. Basically, it’s 215 miles in the Cascade mountains. The ride had it all — distance, tough climbs, great scenery, scorching heat, and wind. 18 people attempted this year.

Many things went right. I had a great time and met a number of people I hope to ride with again. Weather was decent. I felt good and rode with the big boys until mile 60 or 70. Although they dropped me, I passed the 100 mile mark 6 hrs after I started. That’s a respectable time even on a flat route, let alone one that involves thousands of feet of climbing. Although I’d been using more of my legs than I should, I was on track to a strong finish when I passed the halfway mark.

At mile 125, I was riding slower than my usual pace but still feeling good. Just a couple miles later, heat exhaustion hit me like a load of bricks — it was all I could do to not pass out while riding. I took off my helmet to cool off, but around mile 130 I was in a total daze and barely able to move in my lowest gear. I felt so bad that I considered  lying on the shoulder of the highway and falling asleep. Fortunately, Bryan was nearby, heard from another rider that I looked terrible, and he rescued me.

My first reaction when I knew my day was prematurely over was to question the rest of my riding schedule. I wondered if maybe I wasn’t kidding myself about my physical condition and need to face the fact that I belong with smaller fish in a smaller pond. However, once I got some fluids in me and began feeling normal again, I remembered that people much better than me have bad days — some of whom also failed to complete the Ultimate. I knew that I could have finished this ride, but just not this time.

Normally, my strategy is to ride my ride and let others ride theirs. I don’t attempt to catch or drop anyone. This time, though, I got caught up in the moment. I rode too hard and didn’t pay enough attention to hydration. I don’t regret trying this. One of the things I’ve always wondered is if my normal strategy is too conservative and if maybe I should ride harder. Apparently, my regular plan is spot on.

I think I’ll still attempt the Everest Challenge, though I think I need some more training in high desert. The problem with riding in the high desert is you don’t feel like you’re sweating, so you can get dehydrated easily.

In a strange sense, failing the ride yesterday may have been a good thing. Today my left knee hurts like heck — apparently a combination of painkiller and adrenaline kept me from realizing how bad it was yesterday. Better to bail early and still have a chance of healing up in time for some great rides in August than trashing my knee and being out for the rest of the season.