Category: #bikedc

Long Game, Longer Season

When I choose my commuting bike of the day, I often consider whether I will be doing something in DC in the evening. This week is no exception because the Nats are playing seven home games in a row. If I am going to hang out in town, I pick either Little Nellie or The Mule. They both have toe clips and straps which allows me to wear walking shoes. Yesterday, I didn’t have any plans so I chose Big Nellie which has clipless pedals.

In the afternoon, I received a message from Ed to go to the Nats game that night. Clipless or not, I’m in!

I rode to Nats Park without incident until I got to First Street NE. There a driver moved into the bike lane without signalling as I was approaching. I yelled at him and he proceeded onward nearly running over a pedestrian in a cross walk. If his timing were a little better he could have killed two people in the space of 20 yards.

I parked at the Bike Valet and headed to my seat. It was Jason Werth Chia Pe20318775242_ed33e577a4_zt night. Werth has a massive amount of facial hair so this made some sense. This and the Presidents’ race featuring a Chia Abe (he won) pretty much convinces me that the Nats promo department puts peyote buttons on their Nats Dogs.  And, of course, nothing says family-friendly like celebrating the only player on the team who has been in jail during the past year.

I met Ed in section 305 and a ball game broke out. It was a slow contest, made slower by the Nationals creeping incompetence. The Arizonas (their DBACKS logo looks from a distance like WHACKS) tried to give the Nats the game in the early going but the hometown team would have none of it. The Nats’ starting pitcher gave up hits and walks like Chia Pets. After being allowed to bat to end an inning he gave up a hit to the first batter he faced and was removed from the game. 35,000 fans wondered why hit was not pinch hit for. Oh, well. What do we know? The Nats brought in another, more generous thrower who managed to turn a swinging bunt into a 2-run triple. A third pitcher balked in a run. It was like a clinic in how not to play major league baseball. For the first time in ten years of baseball in DC, the crowd booed. And booed. And booed. People in the stands were making all kinds of nasty remarks. The only real cheers came when the Nats, now down 11-2, threw in the towel and brought in their back up first baseman to pitch.  (A move somewhat akin pulling the goalie in a lost cause hokey game) He quickly retired two batters, giving him an ERA of 0.00.

The only thing worse than the game were the undercooked vegan hot dogs I ate. They tasted flavorless and had the texture of a boiled doggie chew toy. Ack. It makes me wonder if bowls of steamed veggies and rice would sell at the ball park. Seriously. It would be way better than most of the crap, veggie or not, that they sell.

The game ran four hours. We left our seats and headed for home with the few thousand other fans who value depression over a good night’s sleep.

Ed and I rode down the I Street bike lane. As a stop light turned green two motorbikes did right hooks in front of me, nearly hitting me. Only 14 long, dark miles to go.

Actually, the rest of the ride home was nice. I know because Ed must have said “This ride is nice” at least 20 times. The Gnats weren’t even out so we could ride home without an involuntary protein snack.

I arrived home just before 1 am. In bed after 2, I awoke at 6 and rode to work.

By 3 pm I was in very strong disagreement with Chico Escuela.

I am hoping that Friday night’s game has a lot less suck.

Random Brain Hairballs from My Bike Commutes

I tend to go into meditative trances when riding to work. You would too if you took the same route day after day for 160 times a year for years on end.  Here’s are some hairballs by brain has cough up along the way:

  • If your quest for spiritual fulfillment and happiness is stressing you out, you’re probably doing it the wrong way. You should just say “fuggetaboudit” and go for a bike ride. Or a beer. Or a baseball game. Better yet, go for all three. There you will find a breeze, a buzz, and a frozen rope to the gap. Works for me.
  • Doesn’t it piss you off when you ask someone a straight question and you get back an answer to a question you didn’t ask? Its like trying to have a conversation and a press conference breaks out.
  • If I perceive that you are treating me with rudeness and disrespect, are you an asshole or is it just my imagination? I suppose it doesn’t much matter, because you won’t be hearing from me anymore.
  • There is nothing more irritating than dissembling wrapped up in a tidy package of spiritual philosophy or religious bafflegab.
  • Can there be a worse feeling than watching a crash slowly develop before your eyes and you can do nothing to stop it? Neil Finn got two songs out of watching his dog nearly get “bowled by a bus.”
  • Some friendships are like big novels. It takes a long time to get into the story at first. Over time the story has unexpected twists and turns that draw you in. Then you are completely into the story as it reaches its resolution. The author, apparently unwilling to stop writing, drags the damned book out for an unnecessary 100 pages, making you wish you hadn’t started reading it in the first place. When you’re done, however, you look back at the book with satisfaction and gratitude.
  • Other friendships are like a Bond movie. They start with a rousing and riveting beginning then settle down into a fun but less intense story line that you hope goes on for a long time and you get popcorn, too. You just hope there aren’t any people in the front row having a laugh at your expense.
  • True story from a soccer mom: High school girl is unattractive and dumpy. Envies the quarterback for all his cool. He doesn’t know she’s alive. Ten years later, the girl is an educated, successful, attractive single woman. Walks into a bar and sees the QB sitting at the bar. He’s a burned out, drunken shell of himself. He looks at her with lust in his eyes. She walks by and thinks to herself. “People should never peak in high school.”
  •  I’m pretty sure if I refrained from eating all the things I am told are bad for me, I’d be dead from acute arugula intoxification. Not a pretty sight.
  • You will never hear me utter the words “Can I have some corned beef and cabbage?” Had to eat it every so often as part of parental Irish ritual dinner sacrifice. Ack!
  • I may be wrong but it seems to me that using your Facebook friends list to generate your primary source of income is a sure way to end up with neither friends nor income.
  • I will never understand how sports teams let good players leave then spend billions for other teams’ expensive, disgruntled stars.
  • Flip side: holding onto old stars is great for sentimentality but lousy for winning games.
  • I liked Nationals Park when I first went. Now it has about as much appeal as a WalMart. Makes me nostalgic for the urine troughs in the men’s rooms at Fenway Park.
  • Genderless (genderfree? neuter?) bathrooms are starting to happen. It’s a long overdue development.
  • Note to the attractive young woman who passed me leisurely this morning: Did you know that the black tights you were wearing were transparent? You might want to go up one size on the panties because yours were seriously riding up. Then again, continue to dress in this fashion. I won’t need to drink as much coffee when I get to work.
  • Mocking a spiritual philosophy or religion on Twitter always brings out true believers who want to convert or enlighten me. Y’all need to chill.

And with that I will take my own advice and ride to the ball game.

If It Only Had a Name

Anybody who knows me knows that I am an incredibly incompetent consumer. I buy stuff and hold onto it long after its useful life is over. Getting me to the point of buying stuff take Herculean effort.

Today I finally pulled the trigger on a new bike purchase. I drove to Bicycle Space in Adams Morgan and bought a Surly Cross Check. Unlike my other three bikes, the Cross Check is not a touring bike. It is a little lighter, a little more nimble, and a lot more responsive than The Mule or Big Nellie, which are bouth designed for touring. Little Nellie is plenty responsive but her little wheels don’t care much for maintaining a head of steam. The Cross Check does both.

I have lost track of how many people I know own Cross Checks. They all seem to like them a lot, except for Katie Lee who LOVES her Cross Check. (She doesn’t do things half way.)  Every time I see her she shows off her baby called Arrow. She’s like a rolling advert for the damned bike.

I started my bike shopping venture with the idea of buying a new touring bike for my May tour. I was fixated on a Surly Disc Trucker, a long, heavy touring bike with disc brakes. I tried one in a size that is too small and liked it. I wanted to try a bigger frame, but the shop didn’t have one.

Last week, after test riding the Cross Check at Bicycle Space, I learned that Jesse, a Friday Coffee Clubber, was selling his Surly Long Haul Trucker. It’s very similar to the Disc Trucker but with conventional rim brakes.

I test rode Jesse’s bike. It had wide tires and slightly smaller wheels than I am used to. It rode like a bus. A very, very nice bus. I was very tempted to take it off his hands, but I decided to try the Disc Trucker too.

I test rode the Disc Trucker today at Bicycle Space. It wasn’t so bus-like with its 700 wheels. And the brakes are really impressive. Neither the Disc Trucker nor the LHT like to be ridden out of the saddle though. This is not a deal killer for touring but for everyday use it’s a bit off putting. I also had trouble decided whether a new Disc Trucker was worth several hundred dollars more than Jesse’s bike.

So I test rode the Cross Check again. LIKE!

So I bought it. Workin20206603516_08be95011d_zg with Rachel, one of my favorite people in @bikedc, I picked out a lightweight rear rack, a pump, some tubes, a bike computer, a multitool, and a wireless bike computer. (It’s all in her hands on the left.) Tonight I am going to buy a saddle bag from a store in Massachusets to carry my stuff.

When I brought the Cross Check home I had to take it for a spin. I couldn’t go too far from home without stuff to change a flat (which will go in the saddle bag I a20049882689_ac186c0b92_zm buying). It was a fun 5 mile romp around the neighborhood. It’s going to take some tweaking to get the bike and my body to play nice together but I can’t wait to get it out on the road. This is the bike I want to take out on the weekends or on event rides without a lot of crap on it weighing me down. It’s going to get a lot of us.

Many thanks to Rachel for spending so much time with me getting this done. Bicycle Space has a huge inventory of bikes and a gorgeous new store (actually two but I’ve only been to one) which makes it a great place to shop. It also has a large complement of very helpful, knowledgeable, and personable employees which for some reason in bike shop world is unusual.

Oh, and one other thing. Bicycle Space gives a discount on bikes and accessories to WABA members. The discounts I received today paid for my membership for many years to come.

I keep calling the bike “it” because it does not yet have a name. I have five names in mind so far. I won’t tell them. Feel free to offer suggestions of your own in the comments.

July by the Numbers

July featured a pretty awesome hike, a century bike ride, a couple of rides to baseball games and some test rides of new bikes.

I rode 716 miles in total, 491.5 just getting to and from work. Because of the century Big Nellie led the way with 342.5 miles. The Mule came in a strong second with 337 miles. Little Nellie was ridden for 2 commutes for a total of 36.5 miles. (One of the commutes was to and from the car mechanic.)  I rode to work 16 times.

It was a month of odd rides. In addition to the century, I rode to a Nationals game from home during the week on a day that I was telecommuting. I also rode to a game from work.  I rode to and attended a protest about protecting cyclists who use the Pennsylvania Avenue bike lanes in DC.

So far this year I have ridden 4,500 miles. 3,025 miles were accomplished just getting to and from work 99 times.  Even though it’s my oldest bike, I’ve commuted on The Mule 58 times.

Both The Mule and Big Nellie have over 38,000 miles on their odometers. I am thinking of acquiring a bike that has a little less heft to it than the three I already own. I am also looking into a new touring bike. Both bikes will have slightly bigger frames. Stay tuned.

Riding to Test Ride

It was high time that I got off the couch and rode into the city to test ride some bikes. My current stable includes a 12 year old recumbent with 38,400 miles on it, a 24 year old touring bike with 38,400 miles on it, and an 8 year old travel bike with 15,000 miles on it. So?  I wanna new bike. I’ve been good. Waaa!

I took The Mule, my touring bike, and rolled out to the city. Wrapped up in thoughts, I missed a turn in a neighborhood called Waynewood that has curvy roads instead of a grid. (I actually have heard it referred to as Whitewood, because there are so few people of color living there.)

Once back on track I took East Boulevard Drive to the Mount Vernon Trail. East Boulevard runs parallel to the GW Parkway and was once lined with small houses, cottages really from back in the day when a trolley line ran down the middle of the Parkway. The Washington area is filled with neighborhoods like this where people with money once escaped the heat of the city. Over the past decade, many of the small houses and undeveloped land have been cleared for massive egoboxes that are triple the size that any rational person would need. This week several cottage houses and trees were bulldozed to make way for more mega-homes. Sad.

The trail was busy, as it always is on a nice Sunday morning in the summer. I managed not to get mad at the long clusters of families riding slowly. They will stash their bikes in the garage soon enough, probably once the temperature falls below 70 degrees.

Once in Alexandria, I took the Woodrow Wilson Bridge across the Potomac River to Maryland. The path is wide but two walkers managed to take up 3/4ths of the width with their bodies. They really needed the walk.

On the Maryland side I slogged up to Oxon Hill Road. It’s not a difficult climb but there is no shade and it goes on forever. The massive lot on the hillside was once empty. It is now the site of the construction of a casino. What a shame that all that effort isn’t going into something that produces something beneficial and lasting.

Once at the top of the hill I had to deal with the fact that MDOT can’t figure out how to build a bike lane to the Oxon Hill Farm. I rode against traffic for a few hundred yards in silent protest to MDOT’s stupidity. (They recently made changes that made this situation worse, making the left turn into Oxon Hill Farm illegal.)

A rather beat up road goes around the farm and back down the hill to Oxon Cove Park. The path through this park sucks. It’s all weeds and potholes. A deer bounded across my path to take my mind off how this route could be made so much nicer for not a lot of money.

Once out of the park I rode the steep uphill on Blue Plains Drive to Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. (Are you following all the ups and downs? You’d think MDOT would build a bike trail along the river. You’d think wrong.) A left at the top of the hill took me through some of the poorest parts of Anacostia. There were groups of men sitting in the shade every 100 yards or so. They didn’t look very happy. I rode past the old Saint Elizabeth’s hospital. This was what Karl Childers in Sling Blade called a nervous hospital. For a minute I imagined what a godawful place this must have been back in the day. It’s closed now. Old red brick buildings behing walls and chain link fences slowly giving in to the passage of time. Why can’t they bulldoze this mess instead of those cottages?

After riding through an uninspiring commercial neighborhood, I turned into Anacostia Park. As I made my way northeast along the river I stopped to refill my water bottle. The first two water fountains I tried were not working. On a humid 90 degree day. Go DC!

I finally found a fountain that worked near a roller skating facility. Shortly thereafter I left the park and headed across the Anacostia River, northwest up busy Benning Road. Most BikeDC people I know leave the city to get away from their daily battle with cars. Every so often I go into town to play with the beasts.

I rode through the gentrifying areas of Northeast DC then into Northwest. After a million traffic lights I arrived at the new Bicycle Space mother ship in Adams Morgan. This bike store is NICE! And there are beaucoup bikes on display. So many bikes. I want them all. Just what I needed.

I said hello to my friend Rachel (Don’t Call Me Bob) Cannon who conveniently works for Bicycle Space. What a coincidence! I promptly had me test riding an All City bike. I took it on a loop that included a hill. Riding it out of saddle up the hill was not to my liking so I went back to the shop. where Rachel was prepping a Surly Cross Check for me. Ryan, from the No Wrong Plan tour, came into the shop while the Cross Checvl was being adjusted. He told Rachel and me that despite the fact that he really liked a particular Salsa Warbird bike, he couldn’t buy it because it would cost him too much in divorce lawyer fees.

He joined me aboard the Warbird for one of two test rides on the Cross Check. We were coming to a stop at a traffic light when Susan, Ryan’s wife, saw us and said (I kid you not), “Ryan, no more bikes!”

The Cross Check is a tweener bike, not quite for touring, not quite for road riding. I really liked it a whole bunch, but this whole bike buying thing was really about getting a new touring bike, a Surly Disc Trucker. So Rachel ordered me up one in my size and I will go back in next weekend to do a ride-off. Stay tuned.

Before I left, Rachel told me that her friend Kate is returning to the east coast, because the correct number of Kates to have is N+1. Rachel and Kate are like Mary and Rhoda to me because listening to them talk is like sitting in on a sitcom. Kate and Rachel did the Great Pumpkin ride a few years ago (I joined them for a post-ride beer). It looks like they’ll be back for a repeat. We’ll have to figure out some logistics because a car is needed to get to the ride and they are both car-free.

After the bike shop I picked up some food at a 7-11 and rode to Meridian Hill Park to sit in the shade and read. All was great until a man doing a Humans of DC knock off came by and started talking to the barechested, dreadlocked man of about my age sitting on the bench next to me. I couldn’t listen for all the chatter so I packed up The Mule and rode for home.

At Lafayette Park near the White House swarms of disoriented tourists were obstructing every possible pathway. Once clear of them, I had to deal with the tourists who stood in the 15th Street cycle track as they took in their surroundings. Next came the rent-a-bike tourists riding blindly across the cycle track nearly causing a bicycle pile-up. You probably didn’t know this but Washingtonland is a theme park. We should have funny people in costumes milling about. Oh, I forgot, we do. They’re called politicians.

A few minutes later I was riding past tourists on the Mount Vernon Trail at Gravelly Point Park. Look, Ma. Pavement! Let’s walk four abreast so that all these bikes have to stop or ride across the grass through all the other tourists.

Anabolic touroids. Must not kill.

Thankfully, the rest of the ride home was uneventful. The Mule felt slow, however. I thought to myself, “Wouldn’t that Cross Check be nice right about now?”

After 43 miles I arrived home. It was HOT. I put The Mule away in the Old Bike’s Home. and returned to the couch.

Random Friday

I rarely post on Fridays. I am tired and my thoughts refuse to be wrangled into a coherent train of thought. So, inspired by a writer friend who does handstands in stripped dresses, I am letting incoherence be the order of the day.

Vegan bacon and kosher shrimp make absolutely no sense to me. They are the inflatable sex dolls of the food kingdom.

If you can find a better three days to ride a bike than the last three days in DC, I am moving into your place. I’ll put my bikes over there in the corner. Don’t mind me.

Mount Vernon (the neighborhood) is a nice place to ride from. Riding to there is pretty anticlimactic.

When Maslow came up with the term self-actualization was he putting us on? What if he was yanking the chain of self absorbed people? I can just see him sipping a boubon in an easy chair laughing his ass off.

When somebody tells you “I thought you had forgotten about me,” it’s an even money bet that she forgot that she had forgotten about you.

As much as I hate to admit it, shandys (shandies?) beat beer on a muggy summer night at the ballpark. It’s hard to gag down hoppy fluids when your tighty whities are soaking from sweat.

On hot summer nights, tighty whities are probably a bad idea.

Earlier this summer, I managed not to spot a friend at a public event even though she was wearing a green fake-feather boa and a floppy hat. I amaze myself with my visual incompetence. The persistent irony of being the son of an eye surgeon has no bounds.

I amaze myself that I even know a person who would wear a green feather boa and a floppy hat, especially when worn as an ensemble. I mean I never wear mine at the same time.

I know people who do handstand and headstand selfies. I know someone who does yoga with monkeys. I know some seriously odd people.

I think my recumbent bicycle should have wings so I can swoop better.

Words I thought I’d never hear: “…so I went to the bar down the street in my pajamas.”

Am I the only one who hears the spooky air wakes at Gravelly Point? The smaller business jets seem to have the best ones.

Life is simple. The truth is there isn’t anything more to life than really, really good pizza. Somebody tell the Pope. I think the Dalai Lama has this sussed. He keeps it to himself because otherwise he’d make himself obsolete. He had Maslow on his speed dial. The Dalai Lama takes his bourbon neat.

I wish this country had 300 million bicycles instead of 300 million guns. When you lose your mind on a bicycle, you end up in Chantilly. When you lose your mind with a gun, you end up in a box.

Norman Wilson McCloud sounds like a serial killer to me.

Wouldn’t it be cool if you could bike to Key West, take a hard turn, and have the centrifugal force shove you all the way back to DC? We could call this maneuver the Apollo 13.

“No comment until the time limit is up.” Criminals were stoopid on Superman.

I think the theme song to Johnny Quest makes for great riding music. I’ll bet Johnny is Hadji’s gardener now.

To this day I cannot figure out why Jay Silverheels didn’t get top billing. Silver and Scout were more interesting than Clayton Moore.

Yesterday, I was looking for Linel’s lost bag so hard I nearly crashed. Never found it. Today, I spotted Ed’s lost bag without trying. Sometimes luck is better than persistence.

I am convinced that there is a steroidal racoon in our yard. I am calling him Ahnuld.

If they can make vegan bacon, can they make lettuce out of ham?

There Must Be Some Mistake

After yesterday’s sweatfest, today was sublime. Clearly, the weather gods did not get the memo.

To: Weather Gods

From: Washington DC

Re: July

We will suffer each and every day through impossible heat and humidity. You will give us awesome weather in spring and fall. K? Thx.

I rode Big Nellie to work in shorts. The cool air was blowing up my legs. Eek!  I passed Ed on the way. Ed was going slow because he’s Ed and Ed does that sometimes.

I am pretty sure Chris M. came by with a GoPro camera on his head. It looked pretty silly but I may just be a video star once he edits my belly out of the picture and fills in my bald spot.

Even the drivers in Rosslyn were nice. Okay, nice-ish. I got into the garage at work unscathed only to be nearly vaporized by a massive pick up going way too fast. Big Nellie moved this way and that with aplomb. Okay, maybe aplomb isn’t the right word maybe azucchini.

My co-worker Kelly returned to bike commuting. The recent threat of evening storms scared her off. Of course, you’d be scared too if you were caught in rising water on your second bike commute. 19735364850_a005ed17db_z

At the end of the work day, she boldly slapped on her helmet for the perilous trip down the elevator to the locker room to change.  She also took a water bottle in case the elevator got stuck for more than a day. We haven’t heard from her since she left.  Also, she has a habit of talking to walls but I’m sure this pre-dated her adventures in bike commuting.

I left about an hour later. I stopped to take a picture of the beautiful blossoms covering the Mount Vernon Trail just across the the Washington Monument. I heard somewhere that this tree is a white ash tree. I h19736818498_f0309d11e2_zave not verified this. In fact, I am about as good at tree identification as I am at facial recognition. I took a picture but I got in the way.  I wore a helmet to keep the blossoms off my fusiform gyrus. I think it worked.

As you can see I was in a good mood. I was congratulating myself about giving some advice to a friend. The advice panned out nicely for her. As a result, I figure I  will probably not see her until autumn 2016 or so. I apparently have a talent for this sort of thing. A few years ago I advised someone to quit her job. She moved 12,000 miles away a few weeks later. If only I could work this magic on tech stocks.

I took a dang-it’s-a-nice-evening lap of Hains Point then headed for home. Big Nellie was really cruising along nicely when I ran into Mike and Lisa aboard their purple DaVinci tandem. It has the cool feature that unlike most tandems the captain (up front) pedals independently of the stoker (in back).

Every once in a while, Mike and Lisa ride down the Mount Vernon Trail to explore my neck of the woods and beyond. They have an impressive cruising radius and appear to like riding up steep hills. We chatted for nearly a half hour on the side of the trail. One would think that I’d think to take their picture. One would be wrong.

We did talk about this year’s 50 States Ride. They host one of the rest stops at their home in Tacoma Park. It is the best rest stop ever. In 2013, I pulled up to the house and Mike stood on his porch and yelled “ROOTCHOPPER” repeatedly. Lisa threatened to call 911 and he stopped. In 2014, he put a banner on his house that said, “All Hail ROOTCHOPPER.”  This year’s ride is on September 12. I can’t recommend it enough. I’ve done it seven times including each of the last five years. Be forewarned, it’s a lot harder than it sounds, but it’s a pretty good bet that you will meet some great people along the way. I will be out of town for this year’s event, but I expect a complete report from my #bikedc peeps.

We made our promise to go to a ball game together. We haven’t pulled this off yet but one of these days the stars will align and we’ll get it done.

We went our separate ways. I took the long way home.

The weather gods were pleased.

More Better than February

I’ve been a sloven blogger lately. Mostly I’ve been out of town and off the bike. Friday was a day of unusual events. In preparing to go to Dulles to drop my daughter off, Mrs. RC blew out her right calf muscle while attempting to kill a millipede on the top of a door jamb. White wives can’t jump. Actuallu, it is the first time she has jumped since she was run over by the driver of an SUV. As she sprung up, my daughter heard a pop. It was her calf muscle tearing. Her days of playing small forward are over, we fear.

So the three of us drove to Dulles to see our 20-year old daughter leave for her semester abroad in Sydney. Our daughter moves through airports like water in a stream. She has now been to nine foreign countries, four this summer alone. (She’s been to France and England twice, so she should get extra credit.) When I was 20, I hadn’t been to 9 states!

My wife and I then drove to southern West Virginia, not far from where a fracking oil train derailed a few weeks ago. Large gatherings of people are an introvert’s idea of hell on earth. Suffice it to say, that I had burn marks before the entire thing was over. I caught up on some reading and wrote long emails to friends when I could get cell service.

We arrived back at home Sunday night at 10. I think I managed to get 6 hours of fitful sleepbefore getting up for a visit from a plumber.

After working from home all day, I was preparing to mow the lawn in the blazing heat when Kirstin sent me a message asking if I wanted to go to the Nats game. Yeah, baby!!!

I rode The Mule the 16 miles to Nationals Park in DC. I stopped to buy ice cold water and peanuts, then parked my bike with the bike valet. While waiting for Kirstin, Katie Lee rolled in. I was going to sing “Happy Birthday +1 to You” but the extra day just messes the whole song up. She looks seven years younger than when we got together in March.

Kirstin arrived. After some introductions, Katie left to join her friends inside. Kirstin and I  bought some more water from a street vendor (two of our bottles were intentionally frozen solid.) and went in to our seats. Lower level 26 rows from the field. Way to go Ultrarunnergirl!

The game was a great one with a half-dozen superb fielding plays by the hometown team. Kirstin spent an inning hanging out with her friend Kate. I saw a tweet from Rudy who was sitting in the stands above us. After seven innings, I actually spotted him. It helped that he was waving like starving man on a desert island.

It was hot and muggy. Between the two of us Kirstin and I downed five liters of water and two beers by the sixth inning. As I returned from the bathroom I bought us two more beers only to find that she had bought herself one while I was away. We were thirsty.

Well, the Nats won 7-2 and we all met up at the Bike Valet. We rolled down First Street in the mugginessand darkness. Kirstin and I split off after four blocks and rode together almost to the Washington Monunment. She headed north for a long slog up to Cathedral Heights. I headed to the Mount Vernon trail.

I love riding late at night. The heat and humidity brought out a symphony of bugs and frogs. Peeps and chuckling sounds and rattles and screeches. Since my ears were filled it was somehow only fair that the trail was crisscrossed in places by spider webs. Ack!

Beneath the Wilson Bridge a homeless man as usual was sitting on the bike path in the dark. He was waving a small amber light so I wouldn’t run him over. A little further south I startled a fawn who silently ran away to my right across the Parkway. I listened for the squeal of a braking car but there was none. .

I pulled into home at midnight.

This morning, on 5 1/2 hours of sleep, I rode to work in the most oppressive muggy weather I have experienced in many a year. My legs were covered in sweat after a mile. The humidity never abated. It was just gross. I was pretty happy to get to the office but the garage in our building was a blast furnace.

After a day or reading a paper chock a block full of equations and differential calculus, I eagerly jumped on my bike and headed home. It was less gross than the morning, but it was still gross.

When I got home I decided to mow the lawn. Not the best idea I’ve ever had.

This is summer in Washington. It’s more better than February.

I Got Blisters on My Fingers

Little Nellie, has little wheels made with Alex rims. I don’t know who Alex is but he ain’t my friend. The rims appear to be a bit taller than most which makes putting tires on a total bitch. Schwalbe makes tires that fit tightly. They are especially difficult to put onto Alex rims.

I should point out that I do not like to use tire levers for putting tires on because I invariably end up puncturing the tube. I use my bare hands.

I bought two new tires last weekend and decided to put them both on today. It did not go well. There is a trick to putting tight fitting tires on. First you get one side of the tire on. Then you work as much of the other side of the tire on. With most tires, this is a piece of cake. With these tires it was pretty hard just to get this far. The last quarter of the tire did not want to go on. So being male and stubborn I tried and tried and tried to use brute force.

Apparently, I am a girly man.

I watched this video that shows the trick. You massage the tire. I think this relaxes the tire. It falls into a meditative state. Then you finesse it over the rest of the rim. It works for big wheel sizes. It worked (with a ton of effort) for Little Nellie’s rear tire. It simply wouldn’t work with the front tire.

After (I am not kidding) three hours of working on this, I finally gave up. I took the bike to my local bike store, Spokes Etc. Carlos took my bike and tried to push the tire onto the rim. For about 20 seconds. Then he pulled out a very flat plastic tire lever and popped it on the rim in ten seconds.

Are you efffing kidding me!

So why did I waste so much time struggling you ask? Simple. I have to be able to change the tire when I am out riding. There was just one thing to do.

I bought some flat plastic tire levers.

When I heal I will change the little tire on Big Nellie. I will use the flat plastic levers.

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Biketivism – #bikedc Gets Serious

Safety First

The most important consideration to me as an everyday cyclist is safety. I’ve been extraordinarilly fortunate. I have never been hit by a motor vehicle. (Ironically, I have actually hit motor vehicles twice. Both were stationary cars.)  All too many people I know have been hit. I saw first hand what a physical and mental toll this takes when my wife was run over while walking across the street on a clear spring day. Day after day of pain, tears, and brutal hard work to get back to some sense of normal. As awful as her experience was, it could have been worse. It doesn’t have to be this way.

When a bicyclist or a pedestrian is hit by a car, truck or bus, the motor vehicle wins. It’s simple physics. One would think that our laws and our transportation infrastructure would be designed to even things out. Such is not the case. If you are hit by a car in DC or Virginia and your actions contribute in any way to the crash, the driver is absolved of all responsibility for your injuries or death. This legal standard is called contributory negligence. When police give you a ticket after someone runs you over, you have to beat the ticket or you will likely be found to have contributed to the crash.

Our infrastructure often puts cyclists on the same roadways as motor vehicles. Most people have come to agree that physically separated bicycle lanes are far safer than unseparated bike lanes and cycle tracks. When we use unseparated cycling facilities we do so with the hope that motor vehicle operators will stay in their lanes and out of ours. As it turns out, in DC (and elsewhere) hope is not very effective.

Our Nation’s Main Street

Pennsylvania Avenue is often called our nation’s main street. From the White House complex to the foot of Capitol Hill, the center of Pennsylvania Avenue features a two way cycletrack. Time and again, motorists do illegal u-turns through the cycle track. Cyclists who use this facilty are sitting ducks. Most of the cycletrack is protected by flex posts and park-its. (Park-its are a sort of low curb stone, like a short speed bump.)  The 1400 and 1500 blocks are unprotected. The 1400 block is the location of the Wilson Building, DC’s City Hall. It seems the districts public officials like the convenience of doing u-turns to get to and from the office.

Bicyclists have been telling the city to extend the flex posts and park-its to the 1400 and 1500 blocks, because police are ineffective at deterring u-turning drivers. The city is studying the issue. There is nothing about the 1400 and 1500 blocks that require study. (I think city officials who are so concerned with studing the issue will offer their time to the victims of u-turning vehicles during the study period. They can drive us to physical therapy. They can come to our funerals.)

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Being a human shield doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time

Many of my friends use the Pennsylvania Avenue cycletrack on a regular basis. The epidemic of u-turns continues despite repeated efforts to document the offenses. A few weeks ago, my friend Sam decided to take action, what she calls Biketivism. She organized an event designed to raise awareness about the problem. She invited friends who invited friends. She alerted the media and the police. On Thursday, under threat of heavy rain, about 50 cyclists (including me) showed up and formed a human barrier along the cycletrack for the evening rush. Many of the cyclists like Sam and Jeff, her husband, have been hit by cars in DC. Sam brought swimming pool noodles (on the street  to the right in the photo) to use as temporary park-its.

The event was serious but we had fun too. #bikedc is a pretty awesome social circle. I met new people and enjoyed the opportunity to hang out with friends.

An Unexpected Education

The experience was an eye opener for me. I thought we’d stand there, give a few interviews, get on TV and the radio, talk to some city government people and that would be it. We did all that. To my utter amazement, however, we witnessed u-turn after u-turn through the cycletrack. Cars repeatedly swerved into the cycletrack to get around bottlenecks in the car lanes. Several police officers, mostly on bicycles, sprung into action, giving the drivers warnings. After several warnings, they pulled out their ticket books. They literally could not write tickets fast enough. Drivers were doing u-turns through our line. As a cabbie slowed to do a u-turn, I warned him that it was illegal, that he could get a $100 ticket, and that a police officer was standing directly in his path if he were to do a u-turn. The cabbie shrugged and did a u-turn anyway! He got a ticket.

At one point a driver drove through the line laughing, floored it going the opposite direction, and took a right on red without stopping from the center lane. He got away with it because all the police were writing tickets!

I was flabbergasted by the behavior of the drivers. No wonder my friends are mad.

This event might have been about illegal u-turns through a cycletrack, but it’s really about a lot more. It’s a small step in changing our culture for the better. We cannot have livable cities until we rebalance the use of our streets to protect the vulnerable, to make our streets inviting spaces instead of demolition derby tracks.

Thanks to Sam for making this happen.

Here are some links to stories in the media:

Cyclists Protest to Install Protective Barriers on Bike Lanes in NW

Cyclists create human shield in push for safer bike lanes in D.C.

http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/blogs/citydesk/2015/07/10/as-cyclists-rally-against-illegal-u-turns-drivers-make-their-point/