Category: Bicycling

When the same thing isn’t any different

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You own a bicycle. You ride and maintain it yourself for fourteen years. One day you ride to work and discover a problem. You put a band-aid on it and let it go at that. A week later you find another problem and you apply another band-aid. This goes on for two months, and you finally decide that you just don’t want to deal with it all yourself right now. You take your bike to the shop for more permanent repairs. Two hundred dollars gets you two rebuilt wheels, new rear brakes with a new cable, a new rear cassette and a new chain. The next day you ride your bike to work, for some reason expecting the bike to feel different.

It doesn’t.

It’s not that the problems weren’t fixed, it’s just that two hundred dollars didn’t buy you a new bicycle (even if it was a lot cheaper).

Gotta go.

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Imagine a Friday afternoon. A young man is leaving his place of work on the last day of the work week. He is in a bit of a rush to get home because he is leaving an hour later than he would have liked. If he were honest, he would admit that he really wanted to put an end to the work day about eleven hours earlier – before the day really began. Anyway, he climbed onto the narrow saddle of his bicycle and peddled through the parking lot towards home. He had just crossed the highway out front (after waiting about five minutes for the traffic light) when he felt the need to “use the facilities.” As I said before, he was already leaving an hour late so he did not relish the thought of backtracking to the office to make use of it’s facilities. He therefore decided to make a go of holding it until he got home.

Herein lies his mistake.

Less than a mile into his ride the pressure began to become uncomfortable. Still, he pushed forward. Three miles into the ride he began to feel painful spasms. Five miles into the ride he felt every pedal stroke. Each time a foot would reach the top of the stroke his knee put a little pressure on his abdomen. Every pump at the pedals felt like a pump on his bladder. At seven miles he began to really regret his decision. The ride became a race with his bladder. There were no businesses on his route that had public restrooms. Living in a county that practically invented the term “urban sprawl”, there were no trees to hide behind and bleed off a little pressure. There were plenty of little landscaping trees, but he felt it might not be a good idea to take a leak in someone’s front yard. Undoubtedly there is a law written somewhere that addresses that kind of thing, and it would be really inconvenient if he were forbidden by law to live within 1000 feet of a school or daycare center. At eight miles he began to seriously think about knocking on someone’s door. At nine miles he wondered if anyone would accept a trade for the use of their bathroom, but he didn’t have any money on him. He would have offered them a kidney at this point, but he figured it would be of no use to anyone by now. Half a mile from his home, the only thing that kept him from relieving himself right where he sat was having to explain the smell to his wife when he got home, and the thought of having to clean up his bike afterwards. Finally he did make it home. He was extremely tired from the effort, but he did make it… barely.

The lesson in this is obvious. Always go with the leather or vinyl bicycle saddle… never go with the more absorbent cloth. Cloth = cramping, leather = choices.

Body knows best?

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It’s strange. Many times I’ve told others, and others have told me, that you should listen to your body. If you’re hungry, eat. If you’re craving a certain kind of food, go find it. If you’re tired, sleep. Last night, and again this morning, I was extremely tired. You may have read the entry I made. It’s amazing how bad things can seem when you’re tired. There was only one thing motivating me to ride my bike to work this morning: good old fashioned guilt. It had been two weeks since I last rode to work, meaning it had been two weeks since I last exercised. Sure, I had excuses – what red bloated American doesn’t have an excuse not to exercise? Thoughts of my last blood test, combined with a strong desire to see some portion of my progeny’s adulthood, finally got me up early and back in the saddle again. My body definitely was not telling me to go on a bike ride at five-thirty this morning. My mind was a little too muddled to fully understand, but my body sounded like it was saying “annual leave.” And yet I find myself sitting at work, some three hours later, surprisingly invigorated. The sweet smell of a small white flower (it grows on a vine like plant, but I have no idea what it’s called) filled the air. I didn’t seem to be allergic to it, so the pleasant smell combined with the cool air and the spectacular sunrise made for a wonderful way to start the day.

I’ve written before about my affinity for my bike, and what riding it does for my manner. And yet I’m still surprised by my improved mood after an early morning ride in to work. I guess I’m not that bright after all, that or I shouldn’t always listen to my body.

Being lost without prior knowledge.

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At the risk of having to give up my key to the men’s room, I have something to admit. It turns out I didn’t have a friggin’ clue where I really was. It all started innocently enough. I was looking to improve on my last bicycle ride in New Orleans, which now holds the title “least scenic ride of my life.” I was also looking to ride a route I hadn’t taken before. One way was downtown, so that was out. Another direction was Audubon Park; but I had done that one twice already so that was out. Another direction was the river front, but I had done that one before too, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. That left one direction yet to be explored, so off I went. The direction of the day took me past a not entirely unpleasant mix of business and residential zoning. I was cruising along having a wonderful time and wondering when I would find what I was looking for, when I learned how Christopher Columbus must of felt when he learned he hadn’t been to India after all. There, right in front of me, was Xavier University. You see, I knew approximately where Xavier University was, I just didn’t think I was going in that direction. To think I was lost all of that time and didn’t know it! My lay of the land re-established, I was able to make an educated guess as to the proper route to take home. Why didn’t I just go back the way I came? You’ve never gone on a bicycle exploration with me, have you?

No, it wasn’t the first time I’ve been a little lost on my bike; but hey, that’s half the fun.

Say, is that really a bicycle?

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I was waiting in the lobby of my office building, waiting for the elevator after riding into the office one cold Florida morning, when a complete stranger walked up to me and asked if I really rode my bike into work that morning. My nose is red, my eyes are watering, I’m wearing tights, bicycling gloves and a helmet, and oh yeah… I’m holding a bicycle.

“Why yes I did. I am not an illusion.”

“Ah… I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

Boy did I feel bad.

Probabilites.

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“John, you didn’t ride your bike today.”
“No. There’s supposed to be a 70 percent chance of rain this afternoon. I don’t mind riding when it’s cold and I don’t mind riding when it’s wet, but cold and wet is a problem.”

You know where this story is going. It doesn’t have any rain or cold air. More importantly, it doesn’t involve a bike.

So I drove home. Every street was dry. At one point I turned the air conditioning on. It was getting a little stuffy.

You’re never too tired…

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to ride on a nice day. I rode into the office this morning, exhausted. It was cold (for Florida) and the chilly morning ride sapped my reserves. Much later, quitting time came and I got back on my bike for the return ride home. By the afternoon the weather turned perfect. By the time I reached the entrance to the office parking lot I was invigorated. The sun was shinning, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the air was dry and cool. Despite being tired all day, I worked it pretty hard the whole way home. It never feels so good have your muscles hurt so much, racing home against an imaginary foe. There was traffic but it was background noise to my heart racing, the air rushing past my face, and the wheels whispering to the smooth asphalt.

I’m home now. I’ve been home for hours. Showered and sheathed in my flannel PJs, I feel wonderfully spent.

Alter ego.

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I’ve been riding my bike to work for about two weeks now. Most trips back and forth to work have been episode free. It’s one of the primary reasons why I’ve had so little to write about lately. The daily commute has been a treasure trove of material, and when that well runs dry what’s left? Well wait no more. Another drive time anecdote is coming your way!

It was a cool, crisp, December afternoon in Florida. I was traveling my normal route through the jungle that is Pinellas county traffic. My bike route takes me off the beaten path, but in Pinellas that just means that there are fewer than half a dozen traffic related fatalities on these particular roads. I was heading southbound towards Clearwater High School on a little two lane road known as Druid. I was coming up on an intersection and I noticed a truck coming the other way, pulling into the intersection at the same time, with his left turn signal blinking. Now I’ll admit to a little sexism here. I admit that I automatically assumed the driver of the big, manly truck was a man. It turns out that it was, but that’s not really important to the story, so I’ll move on. The next thing I notice about this truck was the driver. He obviously wasn’t happy about having to wait the extra 15 seconds it would take for him to wait for me to pass through the intersection. I saw him through his windshield, revving up for one hell of a rant. As we approached each other, he looks right at me, pulls up nice and close and shouts “get on the &*^%$#@ sidewalk!”

He gets all of this out just before we reach the closest point of passing. Something in my mind clicks. Suddenly I find myself changing. In that split second that he finishes and we reach the closest point in passing, I finish my transition from mild mannered, college educated father of one, into the cranky bicycle curmudgeon. I looked him right in the eye and shouted “&*^% OFF!” We couldn’t have been more than three feet apart, and his window was open, and I can shout really loud when I’m really angry. Somehow I don’t think it made a damn bit of difference.

Now you don’t have to be Dean Smith to know that I’ve got a bit of a match-up problem on my bike versus a truck. Getting into a shouting match with a moving, oncoming truck in traffic was not one of my finer moments. But it is kind of funny to look back on, even if it was a bit shameful. I just don’t see myself as the guy shouting at someone on the highway. It’s not like I have a long history of road rage. My right shoulder would be damn near useless if I swore that much in the car in front of Cheryl. Thinking of myself shouting at a redneck in a truck in traffic (yes, we do have a few rednecks in Pinellas county) just seems so incongruous with my self image; it seems ridiculous to the point being at least a little funny. Now there’s a video to have and show to the kids. “Look kids, there’s daddy acting like a raving lunatic on his bicycle. Isn’t he silly?”

So why did I do it? It’s not like it hasn’t happened hundreds of times before. Every other time I’ve just ignored the guy, or just gave him my most pleasant smile – determined not to stoop to his level – staying above the fray. (Well, I’ll admit that I usually hope that a nice smile will irritate the guy all the more, so I guess that’s not exactly staying above the fray, is it?) Anyway, today I snapped. Was it my blossoming cold? Was it the cool weather? Was it the cool weather reeking havoc on my already sensitive mucous membranes? Am I really that stupid to be riding my bike in chilly weather with a cold?

Apparently so.

Riding a bike to work.

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Bonk. v. To exercise to the point of exhaustion. To go until your body won’t go anymore.

I was riding over the crest of a hill. Yes, I was in Florida. Three quarters of a mile – up to a mile away, I notice a traffic signal going from yellow to red. This is a signal known to be rather long. I resolve to make the next light. I do some quick math in my head… at twenty miles an hour I should cover a mile in about three minutes. I figure that should put me at the light at just about the right time. There are just two problems with this equation. One, I am in terrible shape. Twenty miles an hour over three minutes represents an all out sprint in my current (woefully out of shape) condition. Two, the last quarter of a mile is an incline (for prospective readers who may be verbally challenged, that’s up hill). One out of shape, thirty-two age male, 30 pounds over his ideal riding weight. One mile. Three minutes. Twenty miles an hour. Almost one minute sprinting up hill. I didn’t need a calculator, I needed a clue.

With about an eight of a mile to go the light turns green. I’ve got a fighting chance to make the light, so I stand up and charge. There’s just one more problem… my legs give out from underneath me and I have to sit back down. Wheezing and slumped over the handlebars, I coast up to the recently turned red light in defeat.

We’ll get ’em next year.

Free speech, revisited.

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Here’s a hypothetical… a popular a.m. radio show DJ goes on a rant about pesky bicyclists on the road. The DJ talks about being fed up with the inconvenience of having to go around bicycles on the road, which he believes should be on the sidewalk anyway. One thing leads to another, and the DJ starts advocating violence. O.K., you caught me. I’m not talking about a hypothetical situation. Don’t take my word for it, here’s the words of others:

The Plain Dealer (Cleveland)…
The controversy began June 30 with broadcasters on the “Lanigan and Malone” show on WMJI-FM/105.7. “Cleveland’s Knuckleheads,” as the station promotes them, and on-air callers described ways to heckle cyclists, edge them off the road or strike them with car doors, according to listeners. Such acts could bring felony assault or other criminal charges.

On Aug. 30, a pickup truck driver in Texas hit a line of bicyclists, killing two and injuring three. On Sept. 2, a Houston station offered bicycle-disabling advice and jokes similar to what aired in Cleveland. Then, beginning on Sept. 22, a Clear Channel station in Raleigh did the same. Both stations later apologized.

League of American bicyclists…
On September 22 and 23, Raleigh station G105 advocated violence against cyclists, complete with suggestions on how to run cyclists off the road, and urged listeners to call in with stories of harassing them. One listener, quoted in the Raleigh News Observer, said a DJ joked of pelting cyclists with empty Yoo-Hoo bottles and said he would, “love to be on a motorcycle and driving it down a bike lane. Because he didn’t think bikers should be allowed on the road. He said they should ride on the sidewalk.”

Even as an avid cyclist (Cheryl would say “former avid cyclist” would be a better description), I could entertain a debate concerning wether or not bicyclists should be allowed on the road. I would argue that the should be (I would add that it is lawful for bikes to be on the road in most states), but I would agree 100% that people should be able to debate this question. My problem is the position seemingly taken by the DJ’s: that violence is a suitable solution to the issue. We’re talking about suggestions made on the air, by on air personalities, that could result in people’s deaths. Is this kind of speech a crime? If it isn’t, should it be?

Clear Channel, which owns each of the stations in question (no big surprise, considering they own the radio universe), has stated that they do not condone violence against any group of people. They are donating air time to promote road safety. No word has been given as to wether the DJ’s will be disciplined. No word has been given as to wether the air time to promote road safety will be utilized in as effective a manner as the DJ’s time advocating violence. Let’s see… popular DJ, ranting on the air… versus… sterile public service announcement. Yeah, big of them to give up air time.

The last I heard, the FCC will be investigating the matter. The last I heard, the current administration is not big on government agencies that regulate.

Big people 1, little people 0.

Sources:
http://www.cleveland.com/plaindealer/

The League of American Bicyclists


http://apnews.excite.com/article/20031101/D7UHVDF00.html
http://www.clearchannel.com/
http://www.fcc.gov