My wife (and others) got their cameras ready. I buckled myself in as tight as I could. I pedaled up against a wall in the arena. The vehicle stopped. With all my might, I kept peddling. First my feet, then knees were higher than my head. This was real work!

The hard, concrete floor of the arena was in view as I looked "up." All my blood was in my face and it matched the bright red of the vehicle paint. Peddling was hard. The crowds were cheering. Afterall, everyone likes a disaster. Right?

The crowd wanted more. I did it 4 more times. I got used to when and how hard to hit the brakes as I went over the center point on the top and also figured out how to keep from falling away from the pedals so much.

The biggest problem is that after going over, the vehicle has momentum in reverse and doesn't coast backwards. I learned that I have to remember to back pedal a lot to keep from swinging way forward again (because of the brakes holding me in position) and avoid ending up with too much forward momentum at the end and being sent crashing back into the wall. Not that the crowd wouldn't have like that stunt, mind you.

Because it was relatively easy and apparently looked pretty cool, I performed this stunt during our arena show for the public scheduled for the next day. All went well.

Lutefisk was able to squeeze between the concrete planters where the people walk but it was too narrow for me, I carefully snuck one of the posts between the wheel and the inside frame and got through.

We rode around the fountain and paths, much to the delight of the crowds, but an anal cop spotted Muckle Flugga and threatened to ticket all of us for having unauthorized vehicles in the area.

Too bad he didn't try to nail me, or I'd have had some fun with him,"But officer bicycles are allowed in here—I'm just an over-grown bicycle. See my two wheels?"

I had some trouble with a tire (sheared the valve core off when it walked around the rim) before getting to the ramp. As a result, I had fallen behind the others. As I approached the top of the ramp, I contemplated whether to try it or not. It was really steep. My cockiness was in rare form, so I decided to go for it.

At about this point in the acceleration downhill, I realized I had another problem. While, indeed, the ramp was straight it was now quite obvious that there was not enough room at the bottom to stop and avoid a chain link fence and a collection of dumpsters.

By the time these important observations were being grasped, I was half way down the ramp and travelling about 15 mph (wild guess). I was aware of drifting to the left and was trying to steer back to straight, but riding the brakes full on, the steering wasn't effective.

At the time, I was unaware of my loss of steering ability. Instead, I was desperately trying to avoid the hazards on the left (ditch and trash cans), and immediately ahead, (chainlink fencing and dumpsters). I really wanted to slow down and regain control. Gravity is an interesting force.

As I went up the left bank with the left wheel I was turned (this was purely luck) just enough to miss the trash cans and the ditch, but was now seriously worried about the fact that I was tipped onto its right side. I later learned from a speechless observer (who remained in that condition for quite sometime) of my deployment down the ramp that I was tilted about 20–30° onto the right wheel. All I knew at the time was that it felt like a lot. I was fearful that the whole machine was about to self-destruct from too much side loading on the right wheel. Mind you, that seatbelt didn't seem to offer much comfort or resolve.

After the 360° roll, I realized that I was high in front, facing forward (not down), slowing nicely, and well away from the dumpsters. Hal (from Lutefisk) had been walking back to see if I needed some help when he witnessed me coming down. He was the speechless observer I mentioned earlier.

He stood in awe (or was it terror?) as I came to a halt, unbuckled and stepped away (a good landing is one you walk away from-right?). The flat tire had come completely loose and was limply draped around the rim, frame etc. Two detached steering chains dangled below the drive mechanism. The right wheel stood at an unnatural angle. Inspection showed that the weld holding the axle to the plate that attaches the wheel to the rest of the frame had bent/broken partially.

I always suspected that this weld/arrangement was a weak point and this proved it. However, I was very pleasantly surprised that it held up under the extreme side load that it was subjected to. There was no other obvious damage. During the long drive home, I gave thought to making the welds more robust. I hoped only simple repairs were needed.

A: To your favorite bike shop—where else?

In this case, Bob stopped by Scott's Cycle in downtown Salem enroute to a race in Port Townsend, WA. Scott's Cycle owner, and Bob's former boss ages ago, Larry Lewis, runs a kinetic-friendly bike shop. This probably explains Bob's affinity toward building a bigger and better human-powered mode of transportation.

Few spectators have the stamina nor inclination to bike the entire route. Note the added flotation under Bob's seat. Too bad it didn't offer him more lift in the sea!

As the seasons change, so does the color of the Tomato. The day after Thanksgiving, Corvallis hosts a community Christmas Parade. Even human-powered, all-terrain vehicles get into the spirit of Christmas (as well as elementary chemistry).

The Christmas parade marks the end of a year of kinetic frolic. Soon, the annual kinetic sculpture workshop will rekindle rusting gears.