Frozen Spokes

I am not a good weather forecaster. If there was any doubt about this, I laid it to rest on Friday when my students, all of whom had keenly followed the weather reports, asked what would happen if we didn’t have school on Monday. “Oh, I’m quite sure we’ll have school on Monday,” I assured them. “But, if we don’t, then we’ll have the test on Wednesday instead.”

Of course, as you’ve already guessed, we did not have school on Monday. A winter storm smacked us right in the face over the weekend, leaving a lovely covering of pristine white all over everything. (My Lovely Lovely, trying to drive while the sun reflected with great brilliance off of the snow and ice and shot straight into her eyes like a laser beam, described the snow somewhat differently than I just did, but we have to allow for personal preferences in these things.

After racking up a measly hundred miles (if I round up) in January, I am determined to do considerably better than this in February. I am not off to a good start. However, apparently feeling that I need a kick in the pants to get me going, the fates decreed that I would ride today.

No work on Monday and a two hour delay on both Tuesday and Wednesday, and today, our first day back on our regular schedule, my car decided not to start. (This lack of starting power on my car’s part is not due to a lack of motivation. It’s due to the fact that I didn’t close the back door all the way a day or two ago and therefore the battery, instead of being full of electricity and ready to go, is mostly ornamental at this particular point in time.) When I realized all of this, I sighed and went back into the house for my helmet.

The sigh was largely due to the fact that it is cold out. It is freezing out. Literally. 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Freezing. My work clothes, while quite stylish, are not very good for riding in the cold. (Actually, that’s a lie. My work clothes aren’t stylish at all.)

I filled a bottle (hey, the ride is only a little over six miles, but I always take something to drink anyway), put on my nice warm winter Walzcap with the earflaps (which I have been told makes me look like a German schoolboy – why German? I have no idea), pulled on a sweatshirt, some gloves and my helmet (I would very much like to keep my brains inside my head if anything untoward should happen while I am on the road), pumped up the tires and headed out.

I had been on the road less than two minutes when I began to reconsider the wisdom of riding without a balaclava. I mean, aside from the fact that it makes you look like a ninja of the road, it does keep your face warm. I didn’t feel like heading back home to get it, though, so I just figured my face would go numb eventually and then it wouldn’t bother me anymore.

It’s a bit surreal to me to be riding with piles of snow and ice sitting beside the roads. If I lived somewhere else (like Anchorage), I suppose it wouldn’t be surreal at all. Or, if I lived still somewhere else (say…Tahiti) then it wouldn’t so much be surreal as an indication of a complete mental breakdown on my part. I guess it all just depends.

The ride itself was pretty smooth. My face did eventually stop bothering me, though the wind in my eyes occasionally made tears run. The cars were nearly all extremely polite, giving me lots of space. I have a feeling the drivers felt sorry for me because of the temperature (or because they felt it would be bad luck to hit a crazy person, I don’t know). Either way, I’ll thankfully take it.

I do miss bike commuting and this really inspires me to do more of it. It just feels so darned good. (Okay, I know that, if you read some of what I wrote above it doesn’t sound like it feels good, but it does. I know. I was there. My Lovely Lovely worries that it’s just too dangerous, so she doesn’t want me to do it, but, let’s face it, bike commuting is good for the soul.

See you on the road.

Random Encounters

My Lovely Lovely and our daughter and I were out shopping for back to school supplies (I can still hear my daughter screaming at the thought that school is once again immanent) when, in the parking lot, I noticed a car with a “share the road” bumper sticker. It also said, “Same road. Same rules. Same rights.” I liked it. To top it off, the car had a bike rack on the roof. (I should probably apologize for that one, but I won't.) “Ah…” I thought, “A fellow cyclist.”

Well, no. Actually what I thought was, “That’s a cool bumper sticker. I want it.”

At that moment the car’s owner, an older gentleman, walked up. “I like your bumper sticker,” I told him. I’m not normally one to strike up conversations with strangers, but I really liked that bumper sticker. I’ve seen several versions of it here and there, but none qute as snazzy as that one.

Yes, I did just use the word snazzy.

Alas. I have bumper sticker envy.

He nodded at me. “Are you a cyclist?”

“Yes.” (Hey, even though I haven’t been on the bike in a while, I finally managed to go for a ride the other day, so I’m a cyclist. I can still say that.)

“I just moved here. Is there a club in town?”

“Why, yes there is.”

I got his e-mail address and then e-mailed him a link to the club’s website and sent an e-mail to President Dave to get him put on the club’s e-mail list. We pride ourselves on snappy service.

Later that evening, I was talking to the guy who lives across the street from me, and, apropos of nothing, he said, “You’re a brave man.”

I blinked at him. I couldn’t really think of anything to say in response to that. I mean, what do you say to that, especially when you have absolutely no idea what the other person is talking about?

“Because,” he explained, “You ride on that road out there. I’ve driven past you and thought, uh-uh. I wouldn’t do that.”

Well, it’s either ride that road or don’t ride, since that’s the only way out of the subdivision I live in, and I’m not going to toss my bike into the belly of the two thousand pound beast and drive somewhere in order to ride. Also, contrary to the opinion of my neighbor (and my Lovely Lovely and my mother and several random friends…hmm…I’m a bit outnumbered here, but that doesn’t make me wrong) the road isn’t that bad. Well, most of the time. Just stay away from it during the morning drive to work and the evening drive home (unless of course you’re bike commuting, in which case you just have to be visible and predictable and careful, right?).

He then proceeded to tell me some random stories of crazy drivers, apparently in order to show me just how brave I am. I did not enjoy this. I don’t really want to hear stories of crazy drivers on the road. I know they’re out there. I just don’t want to dwell on it.

The fact is, Sir Isaac Newton has explained to us in detail how bad things can happen to us out on the roads. (That wasn’t precisely his focus while he was formulating the laws of motion, but it works out to be the same thing.) Physics is not your friend when you are on a bicycle and have an encounter with someone in a car. We all know that, but how many of us really think about it?

I don’t.

I don’t intend to stop riding, so I think about the risks enough to wear my helmet and my RoadID and carry a cell phone and be conscious of what’s going on around me, but I don't obsess about it.

My Lovely Lovely, who doesn’t ride (yet) gives it a bit more thought where I am concerned, and we sometimes have to discuss it. She comes up with all kinds of reasons about why I’m not to commute on any given day – it’s too hot, it’s too cold, it’s too dark, it might rain, it’s too windy…but the last one is always it’s too dangerous. If I deflect all of the other objections, that's the one she brings up in the end.

The fact it, I’m a better, healthier, happier and probably nicer person when I get a chance to ride. Riding is my anti-depressant, and all the side effects are good.

All the non-car related ones, anyway.

So I still ride.

See you on the road.

Freedom

I’ll be honest with you, I wasn’t looking forward to the ride very much. I know that’s practically sacrilegious, but there it is nonetheless.

It was my day off, but I was at work. This is a bad start to any day, isn’t it? My Lovely Lovely had dropped me off, bike in hand, and headed off to work herself. At noon, they had turned off the air conditioning in the building. Now, at nearly 1:30, the building was hot and stuffy and humid. Outdoors was hot and windy and humid. I just wasn’t in the mood.

Still, there’s no such thing as a bad ride. Today I was going to cling to that thought, climb in the saddle, and head out. As a plus, I had access to an ice machine, so the water in my bottle was nice and cold. My office is on the second floor, and I don’t like trying to carry my bike downstairs (urban cyclocross) so I took the elevator down and hit the road.

Well, actually, I hit the sidewalk. Then I hit the road. I can now sum up my ride in two words.

Tailwind! Woohoo!

(Of course this assumed that “Whoohoo” actually counts as a word.)

The computer on my hybrid isn’t working right now, so I don’t actually know how fast I was going (which makes a change from my usual thought of “how slow I am going”) but I do know what gear I was in, and I was moving well.

You know, after a long day at work, with your legs not feeling good, trapped in an office, a ride with a tailwind is a lovely thing. Not a lot happened on this ride – just the sun and the air and wind and the sheer pleasure of feeling your muscles working and your blood moving.

Actually, I guess quite a lot did actually happen.

Nice.

See you on the road.

No Ride For You?

“I’m sorry you’re having a bad day,” my Lovely Lovely said.

“I’m not having a bad day,” I told her. “I’m have a stupid day.”

It started off with a discussion of whether I was going to ride to work or I was going to toss my back into the belly of the 2000 pound beast, let my Lovely Lovely drop me off on her way to work and merely ride back home again at the end of the work day. I was in favor of option number one, for reasons that I felt were cogent and sound. She was in favor of option number two for the reason that she didn’t want me to ride to work.

So, after being driven to work…

Well, actually, after being driven to where my Lovely Lovely works, I pulled the bike out to ride over to where I work (a distance of possibly a mile if I stretch it) only to discover that I had left my water bottle, carefully filled, sitting at home. (This was what prompted the exchange I started out with.) Granted, I didn't need to bottle on my way to work, but I might miss it on the way home.

As I pedaled away, I suddenly wondered if I had brought my book with me. A quick dig through the messenger bag showed that my book, too, was sitting at home.

I pulled up at a stoplight to turn left onto a busy road. Of course, you never know about traffic lights…how sensitive is the sensor? After a few minutes, I looked up at the light and said, “This light is not gonna change for me.” An instant later I heard a roaring sound behind me. “But it will change for a truck!” The truck pulled up next to me and then roared again. “But not if the truck turns right on red instead of staying put.” Oh, well.

It’s gonna be one of those days…

Fortunately for me, it turned out that the truck stayed just long enough to trip the sensor, so the light changed and let me through. (For those of you (not the egotistical use of the plural form showing my hope that more than one person might actually be reading this…) who are wondering why I didn’t just go on through the light (which is perfectly legal if the light won’t change for you*) it’s because the darned road was so busy that I would have been splatted if I had tried such a hare-brained move.

*Please note that this is not legal advice, and, if it turns out to be wrong, the police officer giving you the ticket will not be impressed if you tell him someone called lunicycle said it would be okay.

*Also please note that this is not safety advice, and you run the risk of ecountering hostile traffic and having an unpleasant demonstration of the truth of some of the basic laws of physics, and the doctor taking care of you will not be impressed if you tell him someone called lunicycle said it would be okay.

*And, finally, please note that, since these notes are in the middle of the text, they clearly can’t be footnotes, and I have no idea what they should be called. Thank you.

After I left work I had to run by my mom's to do some errands for her, and she finished by asking, "Don't you want me to drive you home?"

Nobody wants me to ride today, apparently.

As I finally headed home, I was passed by a guy on a small motor scooter. I felt a little kinship with him. True, he had a motor, but he was also small, traveled under the speed limit and was unprotected out on the road should a passing 2000 pound beast decided to swat him. He must have felt a kinship with me, because, after he passed, he held up his hand in a wave and left it there until I responded.

I watched him turn off ahead of me, but about ten minutes later he passed me again. I remember thinking, "Oh. It's him again," and then wondering if he had the same thought.

I also got passed by two vans with big bold letters on their sides proclaiming that they contained "inmate workers." Each van was pulling a trailer holding a port-a-potty, a pile of traffic cones and a metal cabinet. I guess you never know where you'll be working, so it's good to be prepared.

I also saw an Archie Bunker couch and a big console TV sitting outside on someone's lawn. I didn't stop to ask why.

The things you see on the road, eh?

Despite the way the day started, and despite a bit of opposition from people who mean well, I did finally get a little ride in. I wish it could have been longer, but it was still good. I just want more.

See you on the road.

241

I had a two for one sale today.

My Lovely Lovely drove me to work with my bike in the belly of the beast. I parked it in one of the classrooms because, well, I had to park it somewhere, and I don’t think the bike racks outside look particularly solid, somehow.

Seeing it, one of the students asked me how far away I lived. “Oh, just six miles is all.” The student was impressed by the idea of riding a bike six miles, while I was thinking that it was barely a ride at all. Same language, different worlds.

When it was finally time to head home, it was 92 degrees out. The sky was nearly cloudless, and the wind could have been unpleasant. Fortunately, however, it was blowing in the right direction.

I got stopped at road construction. There was the guy holding the sign that ordered us all to stop, there was the one car in front of me, there were the various cars lining up behind me. The guy finally turned the sign to the side that says, “Slow.” As I pedaled past him, I said, “Slow is the only speed I’ve got in this heat.”

“I heard that,” he said. I assume that was agreement and not merely acknowledgement that I was audible, but I could be wrong.

I took it easy all the way home, but the water in my bottle, filled up from the fountain but with no ice, tasted warm and flat. I cruised into the garage and then decided to go for a real ride. Since I had skipped lunch, I went for some instafood.

In-sta-food /ɪn-stə-füd/ - any substance sold in can which is designed to be plopped into a bowl, microwaved and eaten (not the can, the substance in the can). While it is marketed for human consumption, this should not be taken to indicated that it is either (A) palatable or (B) actually edible. Common ingredients include pasta, rice, a meat-like substance and (presumably) styrofoam, rubber bands, and wood caulk.

I followed this up with a couple of precautionary antacids, got kitted out and hit the road, covered in sunscreen. I figured I had less than an hour before my Lovely Lovely would get home from work, and I didn’t want to fry my brain in the heat, so I went for an easy fifteen miles.
The wind had other ideas about how easy my ride would be, but voicing my complaints, which I did, didn’t seem to have much effect on it.

I passed a giant farm machine spraying a mysterious fluid onto dirt. When I later passed that same spot again, the farm machine was gone, but it had left a cloying odor in it’s wake that make me wonder how much good breathing it in was doing my lungs. Hooray for the great outdoors.

The rest of the ride was quite pleasant, really, except for the heat. I'm not sure how much of my water I drank and how much of it I poured down the back of my neck. I do remember emptying my first bottle and grabbing the second, which was insulated. That water was still ice cold when it hit my back, and it was pleasant agony as it rolled down my back. I also cheated and took a break for a moment in the shade of a building.

I managed to make it home and get showered just in time to greet my Lovely Lovely as she got home from work. This was what I call a good day. Two rides. Not bad at all.

See you on the road.

Saturday Commute

This was a day of ups and downs, even though there weren’t a lot of hills on my commute.

It was Saturday and I had to work

But

I could go in whenever I felt like it

But

They had turned off the air condition in the building, so it was hotter and more humid (humidor?) inside than it was outside

But

Nobody else was there so I could crank up my music while I worked

But

My Lovely Lovely was going to be out of town all day with our only working vehicle

But

I would get to commute on my bike

But

Well, you get the picture. For every down there was an up and for every up there was a down. Which reminds me – don’t you hate it when you struggle your way up to the top of a hill only to find that the road levels out and there isn’t any down after all of that up.

No down after an up in life is good, but on hills, not so much.

My Lovely Lovely drove me to work on her way out of town. I pulled my bike out of the back and pedaled down the sidewalk toward my building, and that’s where I spotted another bike sitting near the elevator – a hybrid with panniers no less.

“I’m not the only one,” I said. I may have said it out loud. I can only imagine how that remark, coming out of the blue, might have struck anyone who happened to overhear me saying it to myself.

Unlike the mysterious stranger, I was not prepared to leave my bike outdoors unsecured. Unfortunately, the elevator wasn’t working, so I did my own version of cyclocross up the stairs. A hybrid is not made for cyclocross. It’s heavy, for one thing.

I had to carry my bike upstairs

But

I would get to ride it home again

See? Ups and downs…

As I noted earlier (down) they turn off the air on the weekends, so it was actually hotter and more humid inside than it was outside, and that’s going some. When I was finally ready to leave, I was glad to be out in the burning sun instead of locked up in the sweat lodge.

Because the campus was empty (the students have more sense than to be there on a Saturday) I took an unusual short cut across the middle of campus. As soon as I got out of the shelter of the buildings, it was made abundantly clear to me that I would have the company of a headwind all the way home.

It was really windy

But

Hm…

But

Um…nope. I’ve got nothing for that one. It was just really windy.

I don’t listen to music while riding out on the road – I like to use my ears to hear cars approaching from behind me, but I sometimes have a song in my head to keep me company anyway. It seems quite appropriate that today’s song was Burning Mirage by The Madeira.

I was determined today to take it quite easy. It was way too hot for anything else.

There was less traffic (hooray for Saturday) and a new stretch of road, as smooth as silk and a lot of fun to ride on. My computer wasn’t working, so I couldn’t have worried about the numbers even if I’d been inclined to. It was really quite peaceful – if you exclude the big furry dog who may only have wanted to play but who caused my heart rate to shoot up dramatically.

It was a very laid back ride, and a very pleasant one to boot. If I have to go in to work on a Saturday, that’s a great way to finish off the workday.

See you on the road.

A Passing Thing

When I got home Monday, almost the first words I heard when I walked in the door were, "Mom doesn't want you to ride to work anymore."

Hm.

The my Lovely Lovely said, "You're not doing this anymore." Since I was in the process of taking off my helmet, gloves and RoadId (not to mention having heard the previous comment - it's amazing how I can pick up on subtle clues like that) I gather that she was talking about riding to work.

"Why not?" I naively asked.

"It's too hot."

That one stopped me. I was prepared for "it's not safe," but I wasn't ready for that one.

Fortunately, a clever reply leaped immediately into my mind.

"No it's not."

Okay, so apparently it wasn't that clever, but it was all I had.

"Yes it is. And it isn't safe." Well, I rode in the belly of the 2000 lb beast yesterday, but we talked some more and I was able to ride into work today without any hard feelings.

It felt pretty warm this morning, though the weather report said it was only 73. I have a feeling the humidity is was through the roof. I took it easy since I didn't want to offend anybody at work. Of course, a good sweaty odor keeps people away so you can get your work done...

And I decided to count how many cars passed me and how many of them passed me safely. To be fair (in other words, to make sure I wasn't being overly sensitive) I only counted it as unsafe if it made say, "Yikes!" or some other expletive. If all I said was "Well...." I counted it as safe.

The tally - 63 of 84 cars passed me safely. I wheeled my bike into my office this morning and found this on my door:


I'm going to leave it there. It made me laugh out loud. (In case you don't recognize the strip, it's Pearls Before Swine.) Well, now I'm at work, so I'd better do some.

See you on the road.

Monday, Monday

What is it about Mondays?

Last Monday, we were on a group ride when a car pulled up beside us and a lady within said, “Y’all are gonna get killed.”

Now, I don’t know if the was a threat, a prediction or a friendly warning, but as the car pulled away it was followed by waves and cries of “Thank you! Have a nice day!” (A 2000 lb beast is much bigger than a bicycle and, as a consequence, inertia is not on our side, so let’s be nice out there.”

Now it is true that the road is not a place where never is heard a discouraging word, and all of the “Have a nice day’s” were followed by a single discouraging word, but I think the car was too far away by that time for the word to have been heard.

Today, I commuted in to work. I had some errands to run on my lunch break, which I was in the process of doing – climbing a long hill with the temperature in the mideighties and the humidity unpleasantly high when I saw a pedestrian ahead of me. We were both obeying the law, so we were on the same side of the road headed in opposite directions. I glance behind me – clear, so I pulled out to go around him. I nodded at him, and he said, “You’re about to get hit bro’.”

Now, the look on his face and the tone of his voice indicated to me that he was merely giving me a friendly warning. There was no car behind me, so he clearly didn’t mean “right now,” though.
Is this sort of thing going to happen to me every Monday?

A little ahead, still recovering from the hill, I saw a sign that said, “Begin 35 1000 feet ahead.”
My comment?

“I hope that’s not a command.”

Well, it’s hard to be clever when you’re as hot as I was and have just climbed a hill.

Actually, despite nearly being plastered by a pickup truck and being told I was about to get hit, today has been a pretty good riding day. If I hadn’t commuted, I wouldn’t have gotten any saddle time at all, and here I got six miles to work, three miles to where my errands were, three miles back to work, and I’ll get six miles back home later on today.

Thinking about this, I was struck with how differently cyclists view the road from other people. A friend was aghast that I was riding my bike to work because it was “such a long way.” I explained that I viewed six miles as a short way, but I think we had to agree to disagree on that one.

There’s a spot on the road I was riding where the shoulder shrinks from two feet wide to less than two inches wide. I remember approaching that spot in the 2000 lb beast and spotting a cyclist ahead of me. There was enough room to pass, but I knew from personal experience how unpleasant it is when a car passes you at that point, so I waited and passed at a better spot. I knew the road and did it without thinking about it much.

It occurs to me that the road would be a nicer place if drivers were forced to ride the roads on a bike for awhile so that they would have the right perspective on things.

Anyway, later in the day I met the cyclist who turned out to be someone I knew and who had recognized my car. She thanked me for what I had done.

There’s a moral in there somewhere.

See you on the road.

Close Call

I decided that, on my commute to work this morning I would count how many cars passed me. I did this because it makes my Lovely Lovely nervous when I commute, and I wanted to show her that the traffic wasn’t as heavy as she was afraid it was. Then, since I was counting anyway, I decided to count not only how many cars passed me, but how many passed me safely. I got up to 9 of 11 when I lost count.

You may think that this either means that I can’t count very high or that I have a very poor memory, but the numbers were wiped out of my mind by a burst of adrenalin as a woman in a silver pickup truck apparently decided to kill me. She was in a driveway waiting to come up, so I did what I usually do – I made eye contact with her. I’m quite sure that she saw me. She just decided that she was in a hurry, that’s all.

What’s the life of a cyclist worth? Well, to this lady it is apparently worth about five seconds of saved time.

As I was approaching her, she gunned her engine and shot out in an attempt to cut me off. I didn’t know that I could slam on my breaks hard enough to make my tires squeal. It turns out that I can. The driver of the truck swerved around me and then took off down the road without bothering to say “Sorry” or even slow down to make sure that I was okay.

Another car came up behind me a few seconds later. After that, there was absolutely nothing. The driver of the truck would have been scant seconds slower had she decided to wait and do things safely, but, hey, it’s just a guy on bike, right?

Aside from that, it was a pretty nice ride. As I was filling my bottle this morning, my daughter asked, “You’re going to ride?!” (Only an eleven year old can sound quite that incredulous.)

“Yes.”

Then she decided to be nice and warn me. “It’s sixty something out.”

“That’s okay.”

Out the driveway and up that first hill. I hate that first hill. It starts about fifty feet after I leave the driveway, and my body is seldom ready for it. A short way down the road is the yard with the three dogs (only two of whom were out today.) The large dog barked at me, then the small dog chimed in.

It sounded for all the world like a big guy talking and the little weasely guy who hangs around with him repeating the key words because he can’t think of anything of his own to say.

Aside from that, there was no excitement at all on the ride, and I was okay with that. My friend in the pickup truck has given me quite enough excitement for one day, thank you very much.

The great part about being able to ride in this morning is that I have an errand to run at lunch time, so that’s more time on the bike. It’s a great day – 71 degrees out, not a lot of wind, although both of those things may well have changed by the time lunch rolls around.

My day has started well. I hope yours has, too.

See you on the road.

Walk and Ride

In honor of bike to work week, I ended up walking to work. I suppose that’s a bit messed up, but that’s how it is. Work, by the way, is about six miles away from home, so it’s a bit of a hike. The problem was that circumstances beyond my control (or at least beyond my awareness) meant that I had to leave my bike at work a while bike, and a good opportunity for getting it back home again was slow in coming. Today turned out to be the day.

The six miles are practically all on the same road – two lanes, with the speed limit ranging from 45 to 55 mph and no shoulder. It actually isn’t a bad ride (assuming the traffic is right) but it’s a bit difficult to walk. This is largely due to one two mile section during which the road is bordered by corn fields and wheat fields and then a bunch of trees.

There is a ditch that runs along the road maybe 18 inches away. It is generally filled with black water and a variety of plants. The ground between the road and the ditch slopes downward toward the ditch, so the footing is a bit uncertain, and the thought that, if you stumble one way you get smacked by a car and if you stumble the other way you end up standing in the black water is a bit disconcerting.

The most beautiful section, where woods border the road on both sides, is the worst for walking, since it’s unmowed and the grass before the trees is lush, thick and very high. At one point, I was standing there as a truck towing a very large farm vehicle (large, in fact, than the lane it was occupying) came toward me. I wanted to move farther away from the road, but something that seemed quite large was scuttling around under the plants just there. Nice.

I finally got to work where a few little details had to be taken care of, then I climbed in the saddle and headed back home. Unfortunately, my bike had been here for rather longer than I realized, so the tires were a bit soft. Well, it was only six miles. I could live with that.

(My first group ride was also my first 20 miles ride. It was hard, but I enjoyed it. My bike was still so new that it was due for a free servicing the next day. I went in an told Steve about the ride, and he said, “You might have enjoyed it more if you have more than 20 pounds of pressure in your tires.” That was how I learned you have to check the air in your tires a lot more often than I thought you did.)

The ride home was more fun than the walk to work, but, as you can imagine, I didn’t push the pace at all. I just cruised gently along on my soft tires. I don’t know what kind of picture I present all kitted out and riding my road bike. I probably look like nothing on this earth, but I was struck at that moment with how I must have looked just then sitting up on the hybrid and wafting my way along in comparison to how I look pushing the pace into a headwind. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde ride bicycles.

I was also a bit concerned, as I rode back along the route I had just walked, to notice how many dead snakes there were right at the edge of the road. Hmm. So how many live snakes were there hidden in the grass I had walked through earlier? Best not to think about that.

Steve says, “Any walk over a quarter mile sucks. That’s why I always carry a spare tube.” Well, all I can say is that riding back over that road was sweet. My legs were tired and my feet were tired and I was glad to be pedaling instead of walking.

I’m ready for a real ride now, though, and the weather and my work schedule may combine to allow me to get it. I hope so.

See you on the road.

I Am Dry

Somehow there is a difference between commuting because you want to and commuting because you have to. Either way it’s still a bike ride, and that’s a good thing, but if you’ve ever been in the position of being forced to commute, you probably know what I mean.

Today I was more or less forced to commute.

Excuse me, I can hear someone politely interrupting, how can you be more or less forced? Either you are forced or you aren’t.

Yes, that’s a good point. How about this, then…for reasons beyond my control, it was a really good idea for me to commute today.

We’ll accept that.

Thanks. Now, the weather was a pretty nice 54 degrees Fahrenheit out there and not much wind, so what’s the difficulty? It is going to rain today. The question of exactly when it will rain was still open for consideration when I left home, and I was rather hoping the question would get stalled in committee until after I got to work.

I was a bit miffed when I left home. I admit it. The end result of this was that I kicked hard going out of the driveway. The hill just down the road loomed over me, but I stood up and powered up it, barely losing any pace at all. My legs, who hadn’t been expecting this sort of thing when they woke up, registered a complaint, but we kept going.

I was about halfway to work when I suddenly asked myself why I was going so hard. I had plenty of time, so why not slow down and actually enjoy the ride? Now that was an excellent question, even if I do say so myself, and I liked it so much that I did slow down.

Now that I was going so hard I had time to look around me. I could see the trees and the grass, the road kill and the sky which was full of heavy full bellied gray clouds. In fact, these clouds were hanging low and looked distended like bags filled with water just about to the bursting point.

Oh, yeah. That was why I had been keeping up a good pace. I was racing the rain. Well, now that I had slowed down, I just wasn’t all that inclined to speed back up again, so I didn’t.

There was a small shaggy dog that raced out after me. I’ve had meetings with this dog before, but this time I was on the opposite side of the road and traffic was heavy enough that he wouldn’t be coming out after me.

I watched a guy in the left lane slow down and stop. He wanted to turn left, which meant he would have to cut across my path. Now, I am never entirely sure that people doing that sort of thing see me when I am on the bike (a healthy concept, I’m sure) but I could hear a car coming up behind me, and I was pretty sure he saw that car. As the car passed me, I kicked the pace up just long enough to let the car shield me as we passed the driveway the guy wanted to turn in to. I don’t know if this was a good idea or not, but I’m here writing this now, and that must count for something.

The first raindrop hit me. It was a big one that splashed right on my nose. There were no others for quite some time. I finally spotted the school I work at just as the second raindrop hit me about ten minutes later. Slow storm.

Raindrops three, four and five hit me as I was turning into the parking lot. Now, the fact that I could count them either means that that the drops were falling quite some time apart or that I was going really really fast. You may choose the option you like best. Me, too.

The closest brush with a car did not occur on the busy road I traveled to get to work but in the parking lot, where a lady driving a two seater convertible sports car which apparently handles very badly indeed was apparently unable to stay on her own side while going around a traffic island and came close to scraping me off my bike.

I made it in with only a few more raindrops hitting me and, hey, what do you know, more or less forced or not, it was a good ride, just like they all are.

See you on the road.

Heading home

On my way to work I was wearing some winter gear and pushing the

pace because I didn’t want to be late. On the way home I was wearing

lighter gear and had all the time in the world and a lovely day to ride in.

I didn’t have to push the pace at all, so, inexplicably, I did. I don’t know

what happened. I was thinking about how nice the sun felt and how

tired and lazy I was feeling, and then I was thinking about how good my

legs felt and how easily the pedals were turning and then I started

thinking that, though I had made it to work in good time, maybe I could

make it home even faster…

Well, you can figure out the rest from there. What could have been a

lazy ride turned into a “how hard can you go” ride. Hey, either type of

ride is fun as long as you’re in the mood for it. Of course, my head and

my legs were in different moods but, as so often happens when that is

the case on the bike, my legs won.

The cars which had been so nice I the morning were rather less nice in

the afternoon. Now, I have nothing against pickups, but apparently

they have something against me,since three of the four vehicles that

passed me unsafely were pickups.

So, let’s see…morning cold, afternoon warm. Morning cars good,

afternoon cars bad. Am I forgetting anything? I was sure there was

one more difference…oh…right. Morning no dogs.

This large white dog of indeterminate parentage was behind his house

when he saw me. I noticed how far away he was – he didn’t notice me

until I got to his yard – and discounted him. This turned out to be an

error, because that dog must have had some hidden greyhound ancestry

or possibly some hidden jet engine ancestry. Wow. He caught me and

kept pace with me. My brain tried to coax a little more out of my legs,

but my legs were quite sure there was nothing else left. They did

manage to wring out a couple of miles per hour, but the dog merely

laughed sarcastically. He was having no trouble keeping up with me.

Fortunately for me, he never came into the street and,when we reached

the cross street he peeled off and headed back home,happy with a job

well done. I tried to convince my heart to slow down and to remain

inside my chest. I was successful.

Those days when your brain and your body disagree are always strange,

but my body definitely won this round. I kept the pace high all the way

home. I was two minutes faster than in the morning. That was nice. I

would have hated it if I had ridden hard all the way home and not been

any faster than in the morning.

Isn't commuting fun?

It is for me.

See you on the road.

A Brisk Morning Ride

Well, I will admit that, when I got up and found out that it was 41 degrees Fahrenheit outside, my enthusiasm for commuting today was slightly dimmed, but it didn’t stop me. Of course, this is going to be a typical North Carolina day for this time of year – cold in the morning, warm in the afternoon, so I almost need two sets of clothes.

Let’s see…two caps – the fluffy one with the earflaps for the morning and the light one for the afternoon goes in the messenger bag. (If you don’t wear a cycling cap, you don’t know what you’re missing. My favorites are right here.) Two pairs of gloves – the cross country skier gloves for the morning and the fingerless gloves for the afternoon go in the messenger bag. Now pick a jacket. I need one heavy enough that I won’t freeze this morning but light enough that it will fit in the messenger bag for the ride home. Toss in my lunch, fill up a water bottle and away we go.

(Does Batman have to do this sort of thing when he takes a trip? (Let's see...normal underwear on the body, bat underwear in the bag just in case. Normal shirt on the body, bat shirt in the bag just in case...)

Now, a commute can go one of two ways – it can be easy and pleasant or you might have to push the pace. Unfortunately for me, I was a little late getting out of the house this morning, so that meant that I had to push the pace all the way there. I remember thinking that, if I had been on my road bike instead of the hybrid…well, I’m sure you get the picture.

The road was covered with 2000 lb beasts, but nearly all of the drivers were polite and courteous and none of the displayed a serious desire to see the color of my insides. I did run into one honker (politely meant, I’m sure, but I’d still rather they didn’t) and, as the cars streamed past me, I was reminded of a group ride down the shoulder of a busy road when someone else meant well but…

As riders, we were quite safe. The shoulder was paved and well maintained and several feet wide, so the cars had all the clearance they needed, but the traffic flow was steady. Now, generally speaking, the riders in the rear will call out, “Car back!” as a car approaches us from behind just to make sure that everyone is aware. On this particular ride, we had a group member who is particularly diligent about this. Of course, on this road, there was always a car back. One passed us every five or ten seconds, and this person felt compelled to sing out about every single one of them for the three miles that we were riding along this road. Just think about that for a few minutes and imagine what it’s like. Then stop thinking about it because it will give you a headache.

Anyway, by pushing the pace, I did make it to work on time, and my home will be quite leisurely, I assure you. I’m looking forward to it.

See you on the road.

Oh say can you see...

I thought that today was going to be a good day to ride to work, but I was wrong.

The time was good – my work day begins late enough today that I can ride after the sun comes up.
That’s an especially good thing right now since the rear light I use (affectionately called the Disco Inferno) needs a new battery.

The temperature was good – not hot by any means, but not too cold either. (Is there a Goldilocks thing going on here?)

The wind was good – there wasn’t any.

So, what was the problem?

THE FOG

It was one of those pea soup sort of days out there, right out of some kind of horror movie. (Possibly one about fog.) I decided that discretion was the better part of valor (especially given the current state of darkness of the Disco Inferno) and took the 2000 lb. beast instead. To my mind, bikes and cars and thick fog don't go togehter very well.

But tomorrow is another day, and I'm hoping to commute into work.

Wish me luck.

See you on the road.

Home Again

The great thing about commuting to work by bike is that you get to ride back home again, scoring two rides for the price of one, or, as some people would have it, being twice as crazy as a normal person.

As I was getting ready to head back home today, one of my coworkers asked, “Are you going out in that cold?” I will mention that, as I was asked this question, I was standing next to my bicycle already wearing a helmet and putting on my gloves.

I nodded. “It was 37 degrees when I rode in this morning. I don’t guess it’s colder than that now.”

Just as a note to show you how good I am at predicting even the near future, this proved to be a bad guess. It was freezing! Oh, and there was a headwind. Okay, it was freezing because of the headwind. The actual temperature had in fact risen by a staggering two degrees, but the wind had also picked up by several miles an hour, so I think the overall effect was to make things colder. And, because of the wind, the ride took a bit longer.

This same coworker followed up her question by asking, “Did you hear about that boy?"

This was rather a vague question. I suppose that I might have heard about “that boy” without realizing it, but I took the safe route and said, “No.”

It turns out that the boy in question was out riding his bike and was struck by a car and ended up on the hospital in a coma. Well, I didn’t know about that boy, and I’m sorry to hear about him and wish him well - I hope he gets better quickly and suffers no ill effects - but possibly you could have chosen a better time to tell me about him than just as I’m getting ready to get on my bike and ride home.

Just about ten minutes after I hit the road, a giant humvee, pretty much just as wide as the entire lane, whizzed past me without moving over one inch to give me clearance. The wind of its passage nearly blew me off the road. Slowing down as you pass a cyclist would be appreciated, especially when your vehicle displaces so much air. (I have seen this humvee several times, unless there are a lot of bright yellow humvees driving around the town I live in, and I am always amazed at how much of the lane it takes up.)

Oh, and, just a note to the driver of the huge red pickup truck: I appreciate that the honk you gave as you approached me from behind was polite and was clearly intended to let me know of your presence. Thank you for being considerate. However, I’d really appreciate it if you merely passed me safely without honking, since the honk tends to make me jump. This is not a good thing, since it kind of makes the bike swerve, and my near encounter with the humvee a very short time before had already made me a little nervous. Still I appreciate the thought. You were much nicer than the guy who threw the half full bottle of soda at me. (In case you're wondering, said bottle bounced off my leg. It only hit me obliquely, so it didn't hurt much.)

However, humvees and horns aside, it was a ride, and I was glad to be on the bike turning the pedals.

See you on the road.

Missy Says

Cyclin’ Missy says:

I think it's sad that one of the biggest turnoffs to bike commuting is fear of the roads. We all seem to have our horror stories. It frustrates me that motorists don't seem to know the traffic laws concerning bicycles. I advocate awareness and education, building bike lanes and trails, etc. But while we wait for that, one of our best defenses as cyclists is increasing our visibility.

That’s so full of good juice that I want to take it piece by piece.

I think it's sad that one of the biggest turnoffs to bike commuting is fear of the roads.

And a lot of people are scared of the roads. (Mind you, there are people I know who are scared of exercise, too, but that’s a different matter.) When I set out to ride to work, my Lovely Lovely worries about me. I can see why she does. I’ve had my share of close calls, up to and including the time a lady in a jeep passed me and then pulled right in front of me and slammed on her brakes to turn into her driveway. It was only by throwing both bike and body desperately to the side that I avoided pancaking into the jeep. Apparently she was in a real hurry to make that turn. Perhaps she had some ice cream which she wanted to get into the freezer before it melted, I don’t know. It’s hard to argue that she didn’t know I was there, since she pulled around me to pass.

We all seem to have our horror stories.

I know I do - for instance, see my previous comments - but no serious injuries, though the backdraft from a tractor trailer going 55 mph as it blew past me without either slowing down or moving over did once knock me off the road and nearly into a ditch and then into a tree.

Nearly.

I’ve mentioned my buddy Dave before, but his website does a much better job of relating his experiences than I can do here.

It frustrates me that motorists don't seem to know the traffic laws concerning bicycles.

And you have to think that some of them wouldn’t care if they did know. I have seen my share of polite and courteous motorists, but I have also seen my share of motorists who gave the appearance of not caring.

Mind you, there is a sort of selective blindness out there. I don’t think a lot of drivers see us, and I know they aren’t looking for us. How you avoid seeing someone in an electric green jersey who is riding a bike painted six different shades of orange, red, and yellow, I don’t know. I would think that would kind of tend to stand out. (That isn’t a description of me, mind you. I was just using that as an example (although I do know someone who greatly resembles that description). I just wanted to make that clear.)

Whew. That's a lot of parentheses for one short paragraph.

I advocate awareness and education, building bike lanes and trails, etc.

Me, too. The town I live in has a population of around 40,000. (I don’t know how many of those people have bicycles.) We do have nearly four miles of bike lanes. The bike lanes don’t actually go anywhere, of course, they mostly just make a loop, and the four miles aren’t exactly continuous, but, still, it’s better than nothing.

I think.

But while we wait for that, one of our best defenses as cyclists is increasing our visibility.

Be visible and be predictable – my two favorite rules.

Missy was talking about something called the light lane. If you’re curious, head on over to her blog and read about it yourself. Meanwhile, stay upright and stay out of the way of anybody dangerous.

Oh, and have fun. I intend to.

See you on the road.