The only rule for 30 Days of Biking is that you bike every day for 30 days—around the block, 20 miles to work, whatever suits you—then share your adventures online. We believe biking enriches life, builds community, and preserves the Earth.

The brainchild of Patiomensch and Zachamon, two riders in Minneapolis, 30DoB was a decent little phenomenon in April. September is a good riding month, too, so – barring a broken leg – I am definitely going to ride every day until October. I hope many others will try to ride for 30 straight days, too: it would be good for the heart, the legs, the streets, and the planet. If you want to do the 30DoB, you can register at the website or via Twitter (using the #30daysofbiking tag) – or not register at all and just, you know, ride.

For my part, most of my rides will be commutes – twenty-one of them, if I ride every workday in September. But beyond that functional riding, I want to accumulate at least 300 miles of training rides, including rides of 85 and 100 miles. Those long rides would build on 50 and 65 miles I did  earlier this summer, and would build fitness nicely toward winter. Skiing is only about 90 days away!

All of these photos were taken from the patio of the Keweenaw Brewing Company, an excellent microbrewery in Houghton – which is roughly ten thousand times cooler now than it was in 1990.

The view to the northeast, of the picturesquely abandoned Quincy copper-smelting works in Ripley, MI.

The view straight north, of Quincy Hill, outside Hancock.

The view to the west-northwest, of the Portage Lake Lift Bridge – one of the most beautiful bridges in the world.

Genevieve, disagreeing with me: “You don’t know the truth, big man.”

Julia: “Tomorrow for breakfast, I want a sporn and fook, okay? Sporn and fook? What did I just say?”

Genevieve, getting into her chair for dinner: “Well, here we are again, sitting at the table, eating watermelon.”

Julia, bored with our outdoor games: “I’m getting out of here and going back to my castle.”

Genevieve, wearing toy butterfly wings: “I’m a fairy, and I just turned you into a handsome dad.”

Me, telling them about my new diet plan: “I’ve decided that I’m going to eat a bigger dinner so that I don’t get hungry later and have an unhealthy snack later.”
Julia, unimpressed: “That’s a good idea, but you could just have a healthy snack.”

Genevieve, frustrated: “If Julia doesn’t stop being mean to me, I’m going to go to Chicago and live for 15 years.”

Herbert "Hub" Jauquet, 1921-2010

So I called him when I was a little boy, to distinguish him from my dad’s dad, “Cow Grampa.” I’ll write more about “Hub” Jauquet later, but here’s his obituary. He was a tough guy, one of a kind.

Herbert “Hub” Francis Jauquet, 89 of Channing, Michigan passed away on August 24, 2010 at ManorCare Health Servces in Kingsford, Michigan. Herbert was born on July 24, 1921 in Sagola, son of the late Clem and Josephine (Ferry) Jauquet. He graduated from Channing High School in 1941 and had served in the U.S. Coast Guard during World War II. He married Lenore Mary Roell on October 30, 1943 in Channing and was a lifetime resident of the area. They raised six children and were members of the St. Rose Church in Channing.

Hub grew up on a farm near Sagola, Michigan. His father operated a logging camp which influenced his 55 year career in trucking. He hauled logs from the camp in the early 1940’s, and continued trucking until his retirement. These logs were once transported from the camps with Belgian Draft horses which led to Hub’s lifetime interest in horses. He purchased two Belgian horses in the mid-1980’s and enjoyed working with them throughout his retirement. He enjoyed giving people rides as well as working with them in the woods. He was also a huge fan of the Green Bay Packers football and Detroit Tigers baseball teams.

He is survived by two sons, Herbert Jr. (Patricia) Jauquet of Kingsford and Michael (Laurie) Jauquet of Channing; three daughters, Mary Lenore Tassava of Hancock, Barbara (Greg) Kalinoski of Thief River Falls, Minn and Roberta (James) Kluskens of Niagara, Wis; one sister, Marion Finger; two brothers, Joseph (Betty) Jauquet and James (Joyce) Jauquet; two sisters-in-law, Imogene Roell and Shirley Jauquet; 12 grandchildren; six great grandchildren.

Through all this hubbub, Vivi didn’t cry, didn’t wince, didn’t complain… She just held my hand and watched the nurses and doctor work. And she didn’t cry later that night, when she finally went to the bathroom at home, or the next morning when she woke up and had to have her diaper changed, or during the day, or even tonight when she had a warm bath.

I’ve never understood what other parents mean when they say that they’re inspired by their kids’ bravery, but I do now. Little Genevieve is as tough and brave as anyone I’ve ever met.

Flip Video

This is a video camera in the hands of a four-year-old. Genevieve calls this “My Laughter Box is Full.”

My Laughter Box is Full from Christopher Tassava on Vimeo.

Ball Thief from Christopher Tassava on Vimeo.

She’s quick enough that she was actually quite good at this, routinely grabbing the ball away from Julia after a missed catch. Julia thought the whole thing was hilarious, and happily chased Vivi up and down the yard, laughing and shrieking. Once Julia caught Genevieve, they’d have a sort of miniature rugby scrum from which Julia would eventually emerge with the ball – only to throw it off the mark and start the whole cycle over: Vivi in her purple nighty, sprinting over the grass with the ball clutched to her chest, Julia in a favorite skirt-and-shirt combination, pumping her arms with the effort of catching up.

I just sat on the grass laughing until my stomach hurt and occasionally trying to either field a catch or make a throw. I would have been elated to get a minute of these hijinks on video, but I’m glad I have all twenty minutes of them in my brain.