Category: “Mount Vernon Trail”

What This Town Needs Is Later Sunsets

And that’s exactly what we are getting. The tilt of the earth and some other astronomical BS means that, although we are still losing daylight, the sun is setting later. Don’t the gods care about symmetry, goddamit?

I mean this really messes up everything. I am firing my shaman and getting a new jungle drug. My consciousness is in retrograde.

One consequence of all this cosmic buffoonery is I am leaving for work later. Subconsciously my brain says “get ready to leave” in the morning only when a certain amount of daylight is evident. I tend to leave a few minutes later each week as a result.

Sunrise at Dyke Marsh seems to be on schedule. I leave home ten minutes before sunrise and arrive Dyke Marsh just after the sun has cleared the trees on the other side of the river. My brain says, “You’re right on schedule.”

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This trickery doesn’t seem to be affecting others though. Running Mom was heading north, back to Old Town this morning. All I saw was her back. Usually I see her front as she heads south along the trail. Swivel Light, a southbound woman bike commuter with a red blinky light on a pivot on the top of her helmet, was nearly in Old Town when I saw her. Normally I see her up at the airport, some 3 or 4 miles closer to DC.

Too bad Trump isn’t president. He’d declare war on Argentina to get our daylight back. They’d fold like a cheap suit by March.

On a somewhat more serious note:

I saw some surveyors doing measurements on and near the Dyke Marsh bridge. This bridge was damaged by several storms over the last ten years. The surface twists and turns a bit as a result. Most of the other bridges on the Mount Vernon Trail have been replaced over the last five years. This bridge and the beaver bridge (just north of the Slaters Lane turn off) are past their sell date. Let’s hope an upgrade is coming this spring.

 

 

Basic Bike Commute Math

It rained. It was cold-ish. I thought about driving to work. I rode anyway. My thinking was pretty simple. Driving to work in the rain sucks. Riding in the rain is a bit of an adventure. Adventure > suck.

I was totally comfortable for the first ten miles. Around National Airport my gloves became so saturated with water that they were useless. No worries. I had only  4 1/2 miles to go and I had packed a spare pair of gloves.

One benefit of commuting on nasty weather days is that you get the Mount Vernon Trail to yourself. From my home to the airport, I saw one bike commuter. She was one of my regulars, riding from DC to somewhere in Alexandria.  I see her almost every day. She probably thinks adventure > suck too.

From the airport to the office saw about a dozen bike commuters. Nobody looked miserable despite the soaking rain.

My only problem with commuting in the rain is the fact that it takes an additional ten minutes to get cleaned up before going to the office.

My co-worker Kelly took Metro today. I think her choice of footwear was a little bit over the top.

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We took my boss out for lunch. In the rain. I was much more uncomfortable walking the three blocks to and from the restaurant than I was on my bike.

The ride home was surprisingly dry. For a day that the weatherman probably gave a 2 out of 10, I’d say the commute was a solid 8.

Except for one thing. About two miles from the office, I noticed a bulge in my rain jacket.  I had forgotten to put my phone, keys and id in my handlebar bag. I reached in and removed my phone and keys but could not find my id. Lost. I need my id to get into the bike room at the office garage tomorrow.

I could just drive in tomorrow, but I’ll probably ride in and retrace my path, in case my id popped out of my rain jacket on the way home tonight. The smart money is on it being in the bike room.

I’d normally be upset about losing my id, but it actually gives me an excuse to turn my bike ride into a search and recovery mission.

Adventure > suck.

 

 

 

Let’s Play “Was It Worth It?”

Today’s bike commute was an exercise in serial stupidity. I felt like I was trapped in a video game populated by idiots.

I was headed to DC, riding along Morningside Lane, a shoulderless two lane road about 2 miles from my house. For cars, this road leads leads to the GW Parkway; for bicyclists, it leads to Park Terrace Drive. I am on this street for all of 200 yards. I was rolling along and heard cars coming up from behind. I stuck my left arm out to indicate that I was going to take a left turn. The driver of car behind me immediately stepped on the gas and passed me on the left, exactly where I had indicated I was going. Somehow this driver thought my hand signal meant “Kill me over there.”  Endangering my life saved the driver at most ten seconds. Was it worth it?

I stopped to take in the sunrise. You never know when it’s going to be your last.

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I headed to Friday Coffee Club. Afterward, I roll west on G Street, a one way street that goes past the World Bank and through the campus of George Washington University. As I was about to start out, a sedan came zooming onto G Street from 17th Street. It careened down the street swerving around other cars to get to a right turn just before the light turned green. The driver nearly hit two cars in the process and saved himself one minute at most. Was it worth it?

A few blocks later a short elderly woman (Think “Where’s the beef?”) was making her way down G. She could barely see over the steering wheel. She decided to turn right into one of the garage entrances to a World Bank building. She didn’t bother to signal and nearly took out two bicyclists. Was the parking space worth two lives?

Our next contestant was a DC bound bike commuter on the narrow path on the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge. I was heading outbound. There was a strong, gusting cross wind. As I usually do, I wave DC-bound riders to pass me then I stop and hug the rail so they have plenty of room. (By the way, very few say “Thanks” which really pisses me off.) Today I waved a cyclist to come on by me. He was looking up river at the Georgetown waterfront. He had a wool hat on and it was pulled over his ears.  He kept coming. On my side of the path. Straight at me. I yelled “Wake up!” He kept coming. I yelled again. About ten yards before hitting me, he turned and saw me and swerved around me. I could see wires extending from beneath his cap. He had earplugs in and didn’t hear me. Was the view and the tune worth it?

At the Intersection of Doom, I normally have at least one close encounter with large deadly metal objects each day. Today did not disappoint. Although the light had just turned red (giving me a walk signal), the driver of car turning from the I-66 off ramp decided to turn right without stopping, the better to save a minute on the way to work. As I have learned to do, I delayed crossing to avoid getting hit. I wonder if the driver even thought about the fact that she could have killed me. Was my life worth one minute of her time?  

 

Our evening contestants included two ninjas. These fine folks wore dark clothing and nothing reflective and no lights as they ran along the Mount Vernon Trail. Was the money you saved on a blinky lights worth it?

 

Finally, just south of the Beltway, the Mount Vernon Trail takes a 90 degree right and turn across South Street, the access road from Washington Street to two big apartment buildings. A left turning motorist (sounds so refined) didn’t bother to signal saving at least 10 seconds of bulb life. Had I not anticipated his stupidity I’d have been t-boned. Was the bulb life worth mine?

Sadly, these near misses are pretty much typical for my commute. I am very much aware that most of my #bikedc friends have it much worse since they are on city streets for their commutes. I have managed to survive another week of “Was It Worth It?”

Pass the wine.

 

To the Trestle and Back

Today I had the day off for Veterans Day. I still kind of like the original name, Armistice Day, the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, and all that.  It’s a decent Paul Simon song too. No disrespect to Veterans, mind you. My father was an amused Veteran. He used to tell the story that medical school students were drafted and left in school. The army would take them out to a base on Long Island and march them around. My father said they were pathetic, skinny, pale, uncoordinated. Gomer Pyles but with brains. My father stayed in the reserves through the Korean War. All this was before my time.

Having the day off, I decided to do one of my favorite rides, from my home in Mount Vernon Virginia to Bethesda, Maryland with a stop at Rock Creek Trestle. The temperature was in the mid-50s when I left with a strong northwest breeze, a headwind. You don’t get many windy days in the DC area when its warm so the breeze was a portent of many cold windy days to come.

I rode my Cross Check on the Mount Vernon Trail to Old Town Alexandria. The trail was covered in leaves and I was fearful of slipping and falling so I was extra careful. Once in Old Town I decided to leave the Mount Vernon Trail and head through most of Alexandria on a couple of newer bike trails. I picked the first trail up just off of West Street and rode it to the Braddock Road Metro station. There I zigzagged to get on the new trail that runs several miles, nearly all the way to Crystal City in Arlington. No lights. No stop signs. No obnoxious ticketing by Alexandria Police.

I rode through Crystal City and hit every traffic light on the green. This NEVER happens. My route took me on Boundary Channel Drive along side acres of Pentagon parking. Then I rode through Lady Bird Johnson Park, under the GW Parkway, up and over the Humpback Bridge, onto the 14th Street Bridge and across the Potomac River.

During this part of the ride the rear fender of the Cross Check became disengaged from its frame mount for what must have been the 20th time. I re-attached it and decided it was time for a permanent fix.

Once in the city, I rode the the K Street Bicycle Space store where a mechanic did what mechanics do and soon I had a fender that would not fall off. Knock wood. During the repair, I noticed that Paul, the mechanic most likely to play Doc Brown in Back to the Future IV, was working on an HP Velotechnik Street Machine. This is a recumbent to die for. The owner and I talked about the bike. He bought it from a Canadian for $1,500 Canadian. New this bike costs 2 – 3 times as much. The owner, who looked to be in my age cohort, rode it across the country. Dang! Bike envy!!!

Another customer came in to get her bike ready for Saturday’s Cider Ride. I didn’t have a chance to talk to her but maybe I’ll see her during the ride.

From Bicycle Space I headed up Sixth Street to check out the church whose congregation is upset by the possibility of having to share the street with a protected bike lane. Sixth Street is WIDE. I don’t see the problem here other than selfishness.

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Beach Drive in Rock Creek Park

I wended my way through town and up the protected 15th Street bike lane at Meridian Hill. This short hill is quite a bitch, I must say. I recovered by doing a slow lap in the park. On weekends the park is a hive of activity but today it was nearly deserted. I checked out the view of the water cascade and then headed through Adams Morgan to Rock Creek Park.

On weekends and holidays, Beach Drive, the main drag in the park, has limited car access. I rode north on the windy road, wind in my face, sun on my shoulders. It was a mighty fine ride. I made my way to the Georgetown Branch Trail and to the Rock Creek Trestle. The view from above the treetops is one of my favorites.

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Rock Creek View from the Trestle
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The Cross Check Takes a Breather on the Trestle High above Rock Creek Park
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Georgetown Branch Trail Heading West from the Trestle

After taking some pictures I headed west on the trail to Bethesda. I could tell that my body was not feeling it today. I still haven’t recovered from Sunday’s hike. I slogged on stopping only to refill my water bottles when I should have stopped to eat.

In Bethesda I picked up the mostly downhill Capital Crescent Trail and a tailwind. Ahhh.

Normally I be bombing along this trail at 20+ miles per hour but not today. I was suffering from insufficient junk food syndrome or IJFS. Don’t get this. Eat you donuts, people!!!

On the way home I rode past the Lincoln Memorial. I expected the place to be mobbed with Veterans checking out the nearby Vietnam, Korean, and WWII Memorials. There were plenty of people, many obviously veterans, milling about but I think whatever festivities there were had concluded hours earlier.

I made my way to the 14th Street Bridge and retraced my route to the south end of Old Town. Not wanting to ride the Mount Vernon Trail for the 400th time this year (a guess, but not too far off), I took Fort Hunt Road and Sherwood Hall Lane home. This is a pretty hilly route and I had nothing left in my legs so the going was slow.

Long story short:I managed to ride 55 1/2 miles on a sunny November Day. Not half bad.

A Bicycling Hostile City – Again

Once again the police of Alexandria Virginia are singling out bicyclists by means of excessive enforcement of traffic laws on the streets of Old Town, Alexandria. The primary points of enforcement are along Union and Royal Streets which coincide with the Mount Vernon Trail. The usual reason for the enforcement (sometimes euphemistically referred to as educational efforts) is not an increase in bicycle-pedestrian crashes, but rather the cranky complaints of a handful of residents. Admittedly sometimes these complaints are justified. An example is when Walter Mittys in lycra go zooming through the streets with no regard for any other road user. These people are obnoxious and deserve whatever tickets they get.

Generally speaking, however, most of the people that get ticketed are the bike commuters who probably average about 10 miles per hour during their time in Old Town. In the morning these bike commuters (like me) are riding on a virtually empty street. Personally I’d rather be focused on delivery and garbage trucks than some overzealous police officer trying to teach me a lesson.

The fine for rolling through a stop sign is $91. And cyclists get tickets for these infractions even when their transgressions have absolutely no impact on public safety. Yeah, I know the argument goes that if you obey the law you won’t get a ticket. Well, how many people who use that argument go below the 55 mile per hour speed limit on the Beltway? Now suppose I called the State Police to claim that red Toyoty Camrys are speeding on the Beltway. And then the State Police strictly enforced the speed limit only for red Toyota Camrys. “Sorry,sir, the speed limit is 55 and you were doing 57.”

While driving 57 in a 55 is technically in violation of the law, it’s almost certainly safe and is probably more safe than driving 54 (as is rolling through a stop sign at slow speed. See my first example below.) I can only imagine the traffic court judge who has to deal with scores of red Camry drivers who show up to contest tickets for going 2 miles per hour above the speed limit. He’d throw them out and reprimand the ticketing officers.

The fact is that cars on Union Street are far more of a public safety threat than bicycles. Here are three recent incidents from my evening commute.

  • One evening last week, I was being paranoid and came to a complete stop at all the stop signs. It was dark. I even put my foot to the ground. (This makes me a sitting duck to any vehicle coming up from my rear.) A Honda CRV came up behind me swerved into the left hand lane and blew through the stop sign without breaking. The car was going what looked to me like 15 to 20 miles per hour. From personal experience, I can tell you that if that car hit a pedestrian at that speed they’d be out of work for at least 3 months. Because that is what happened to my wife three years ago. The driver continued south on Union, blowing through a second stop sign before pulling over near the beach volleyball court in a park at the south end of Union. As I rode past, I noticed the driver was fiddling with her cell phone.
  • Last night I was riding south on Union when I came to a stop at the intersection at King Street. It was dark. A pedestrian wearing a reflective belt across her chest was about to walk across the street in the crosswalk. She had to stop because a car came through the intersection heading north on Union with only its parking lights on. The driver never saw the pedestrian. The pedestrian looked at me and shook her head in disbelief.
  • Two blocks later I was blinded by a northbound car with its high beams on. This blast of light backlit three pedestrians dressed in dark clothing walking across the street in mid block. Had I been going anywhere near the absurdly high 25 mile per hour speed limit I’d have hit them for sure. After I passed them, still in the glare of the high beams I spotted two more mid street pedestrians who were obscured by the intense back light.

If you think I may have contributed to this consider the following set up. I have two rear facing red lights one of which is attached to my helmet with a reflective yellow band. I have four rear facing reflectors. I was wearing a reflective vest. My sidewalls are made of reflective white material. My shoes and pedals have reflectors on them. I have one forward facing reflector and a 500 lumen light on my helmet. If you can’t see me, you obviously don’t belong behind the wheel of a motor vehicle.

My short term remedy to avoid this harassment is to use other cross streets in Old Town. Some bike commuters have suggested just riding down Washington Street, the very heavily traveled commuter route to and from DC. I honestly think we should give this serious consideration. The traffic back ups from this would be epic.

My medium term remedy is to do a study of crashes involving pedestrians and vehicles in Old Town. How many are there? When do they occur? What injuries occur? How many days of work are lost? (Wanna bet who would come out on the short end of this study?) Then use the data to enforce the traffic laws rationally.

My longer-term remedy for traffic safety in Old Town: reduce the speed limit to 10 miles per hour. Sorry drivers you’ll have to use that pedal in the middle of the floor. Replace every other stop sign with a yield sign. Enforce the traffic laws without harassment, including ticketing drivers. Problem solved.

And while we are at it, give parking tickets to the homeowners on North Union street who park perpendicular to the street blocking the sidewalk and the bike lane. I routinely see the parking enforcement patrol ignore these violations.

First Freeze for a Buff-less Wonder

I knew the cold was coming. A few days ago I foraged around the house for my cold weather gear. My favorite piece of cold weather clothing is a tube of light-weight fabric called a Buff. The damned things are remarkably versatile and they are perfect for late fall and early spring weather. They also have one annoying characteristic. They disappear like odd socks in the laundry. And so my remaining black buff was nowhere to be found.

So I ordered three of them from Buff world headquarters in ironically warm Santa Rosa, California and hoped the package gods would smile down upon me and get them here before temperatures dipped into the freezing territory.

Hope, as they say, is not a plan.

Today, buffless, I did battle with the first frost of the season. I am happy to report that I emerged victorious. No noo-noos were frozen. The only discomfort came during the first three miles from home as by body heat became trapped in the three layers I wore on my upper body. In fact, the only parts of me that remained at all uncomfortable were the lower half of my face and my neck. This is where the Buff normally does its magic.

Despite my cold face and neck, I fell into a comfortable trance on the way to work, my legs fresh from having not ridden yesterday.

Temperatures rose about 25 degrees during the day making for a more comfortable ride home. There must be something about cool dry air that allows my brain to shut down into a meditative state. Or maybe it’s just the fact that the summer nimrods (who make long stretches of my summer commutes on the Mount Vernon Trail a sort of slow-speed bike slalom) were nestled all snug in their Metrobuses.

Somewhere near the airport someone headed for DC said hello. Being in my trance the voice didn’t register in my brain for several seconds making responding politely futile.

The rest of the ride home happened. I know because when I ca22326715851_78b3e50773_zme to I was putting my bike away. Somewhere in there I lost about 45 minutes of my life. There must be a wormhole just south of the airport.

At my front door was a big envelope. Inside were my three new Buffs. This time I bought them in an array of colors so they won’t blend in with all my other black outerwear (like tights and arm warmers and gloves).

So I suppose you can say my next bike commute will be in the Buff.

Beautiful Ride – Ugly Reality

The day began with crisp fall air. I was ready for it as I pit on my vest, arm warmers, and head band. Dressed perfectly, I headed north on the Mount Vernon Trail bound for DC and Friday Coffee Club. The ride in went so smoothly that as I rode onto the 14th Street Bridge over the Potomac River I had that strange how-did-I-get-here sensation. A tailwind and fresh legs (I drove to work yesterday) probably helped.

Coffee Club was crowded. It was good to see some faces that I haven’t seen in over a month. This definitely eased my recent feeling of social ennui.

I rode to work on the narrow side path on the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge. I stop for DC-bound cyclists because there just isn’t enough room to pass on the fly. One of them asked me if the bridge was one-way. He was new to DC and he couldn’t believe the trail was so narrow. I assured him it wasn’t. Welcome to the land of improving bicycling infrastructure.

I left work and head for home, once again assisted by a trail wind. It was a similar vibe to the morning. No discernible effort involved. I barely broke a sweat. My delight in this wonderful autumn commute came to an end. I stopped to take a picture of this sign posted next to the trail north of Old Town Alexandria just after the Slaters Lane turn off.

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It’s a sad reality to the women of this area that enjoying area trails comes with this risk.

Not 100 feet after starting up again I was passed by an on-coming woman running. She had earbuds in her ears.

Every safety expert I know warns against doing this. I know it sucks and it’s unfair but you are responsible for your own safety. Whether you are trying to avoid a potential human assailant or a garbage truck you need to hear what’s going on around you.

Speech over.

The rest of the ride was thankfully peaceful. For me at least.

Be careful out there.

Bittersweet End of Summer

When I go out to get the paper, it’s dark out. I take this personally.

It’s also unseasonably cool. It feels like September.

I want it warm. I want it light. I want it to stay that way. Do I have to move to Argentina or something? Oh wait, a friend already has that covered. I could move to Australia. Oh wait, my daughter has that covered. Maybe I should visit her.

In the meantime, I’ll take a picture of the sunrise over Dyke Marsh.

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Have a great weekend, y’all.

Any Excuse for a Ride

I am going hiking tomorrow and have three medical appointments on Wednesday so I figured I might as well take today (Monday) off and get a five day weekend out of the deal.

The shifting on my new Cross Check was sloppy. It was starting to annoy me even though this is expected as the chain stretches. I could have fiddled with the little dial adjuster thingie for a few minutes and fixed it myself, I suppose. That would be rational. That would not be me.

I bought my Cross Check at Bicycle Space in DC. As part of the purchase, they will tweak your bike’s gears and brakes for a year after purchase for free. Good deal. So I hopped on my bike and headed into town along the nearly empty Mount Vernon Trail.

It was a nice ride except for the inferno part. Dang was it hot!

The ride went smoothly. It’s fun to ride a brand new bike over familiar terrain. I was taking it easy and still going significantly faster than when I ride my other bikes. This Cross Check is an animal.

As I suspected from riding with Katie Lee and her Cross Check, this bike shines in traffic. It is so much more agile than my other bikes and it’s wide-ish tires eat up the bumps in the road.

The good mechanic at Bicycle Space on K Street tweaked my gears and showed me a peculiarity of my shifter. We traded names and, true to form, I forgot his within about three blocks. He was a very nice guy. So, thanks Nice Guy.

I decided to meander around town for a bit. My friend Emilia teaches at Mundo Verde, a bi-lingual (Spanish and English) charter school with a focus on sustainability. I decided to go check it out. I should have taken a picture. It was muy bueno. My boss and a co-worker send their kids there. They tell me that the teachers are muy bueno too.

As I rode by, some people were sitting on the lawn in front of the building. It looked like some teachers were getting organized for the coming school year. This must be an exciting time of year to be a teacher.

I circled back and headed west across town on O Street which is a pretty quiet route to take considering it’s only a few blocks from downtown. At 11th Street I turned north. This was another quite street. I guess everyone must be working. What’s up with that?

I took a left on Euclid and rode over to Meridian Hill Park, which was featured on page 1 of the Washington Post today. The park is in two big tiers. The top tier is an open rectangular field with shaded areas along the longer sides. This is where the drum circle is and where circus of slack lining, hula hooping, acroyoga-ing folks hang out on the weekend. From the edge of the top tier, you can look down on the cascading water feature of the low tier. Whoever designed this was a genius. It is just stunning. A public sector thing done amazingly right.

After chilling in the park, I headed down 16th Street. A driver from Virginia nearly sideswiped me about a block before he made a left hand turn from the right lane. Some people simply should not be allowed to drive.

I slalomed through the tourists near the White House with aplomb. Actually, it was with a bike but I don’t get to use the word aplomb often.

Acro20651892132_b05724fba0_zss the river and down the MVT rode I. Instead of mindlessly riding straight home, I made my way over to Del Ray where I had had a root beer float at the Dairy Godmother ice cream shop. It was gone within minutes. Darn tasty.

Back on the bike, the heat of the day was starting to wear on me. I rode to Old Town to buy a postcard for the August Post Card Challenge.

On the way home I decided to chow down on some tater tots so I headed to Del Ray Pizzeria‘s Belle Haven location. (I could have simply gone to the Del Ray location. It’s only three shops down from the Dairy Godmother.)  The tater tots were ho20669470851_a12618b5b3_zrs categorie. The pilsner and the koltch were not too shabby either.

The ride ended with a slog up a big hill on Fort Hunt Road and a long glide toward home.

By the time I arrived my lower back was feeling sore. Too many miles and hills on a new bike will do that to you. Good thing one of my Wednesday medical appointments is a massage.

Passing the Audition, My Cross Check not VDOT

After yesterday’s successful shakedown ride, I had to take my Cross Check out for a longer romp. So far the bike feels wonderful, especially during the first 30 miles. I might need to tilt the handlebars up a tad to avoid shoulder fatique but, compared to the dial in process for my other bikes, this is going really well.

After toying with the idea of driving to the country, I decided to ride from home. I headed south to Mason Neck State Park. Door-to-door this is about a 45 mile round trip. To up the mileage, I did a mile-and-a-quarter lap in Fort Hunt Park. I was riding at 16-18 miles per hour without a big effort. This just does not happen.

Down the Mount Vernon Trail to Mount Vernon. I was stuck behind a family who were struggling on the long uphill slog to George’s house. I downshifted and blew by them. This just does not happen.

I continued pastDSCN4054 Mount Vernon, down the highway to US 1, speed in the high 20s. Across Route 1 and up a long hill on a side path. VDOT was kind enough to place an electronic sign in the middle of the path. Why they do this when they have ample space in the weedy transition between the path and the road is beyond me.

At Telegraph Road I had to use a beg button to get across the road. I would have been better off just starying on the road. I jumped on the trail on Telegraph only to find a bike lane in the road. VDOT make up your mind!

It was a long hill but I made it without medical assistance. Over the top and down and up and down and up and down and up until I reached Gunston Road, the main drag of Mason Neck. I stopped to give a lost driver directions to Ikea and then headed down toward the neck.

Gunston Road is a two-lane road with no shoulders. Many of the vehicles on the road are pulling trailers that are wider than the vehicle itself. The road dead ends at the Potomac RIver. The speed limit is 50 miles per hour. Why? Because VDOT probably thinks boaters have a need for speed or something.

After two close passes by trailers, I bailed onto Belmont Road. With no traffic, I tried riding no hands. Success! After a mile, I encountered a dead end sign. Um, VDOT, can you put a sign at the turnoff please?

Back on Gunston an SUV buzzed me, then another trailer, then a guy on a road bike. Oof.

I finally reached the abrupt dowhill and turned into Mason Neck Park. Just after turning I turned again onto a path through the woods next to the road. This is a sweet ride, made sweeter by the Cross Check’s ability to eat bumps. Curves and bridges and trees went by. Soon I arrived at the end of the line on Belmont Bay. What a pretty day.

After downing a drink, I headed back home. I took a right on Gunston to check out the quiet neighborhood on the river. New developments have sprung up along the road, but the end-of-the-road neighborhood retains its charm and style.

I did a loop through the neighborhood before heading for home. I took a left at Springfield Driveto avoid a half mile of boats and SUVs. Back on Gunston, I set my jaw and rolled. My reward was a fun, shady, curvy downhill on Old Colcheser Road. This gives way to big, sunny, ugly Telegraph Road. I endured at 30 miles per hour. Weeeee.

Going fast was fun so I took the Farirfax County Parkway. It has an enormous shoulder so this is actually pretty safe by VDOT standards. It has a side path too but who cares when you have your own 8 foot paved shoulder.

Turning off on Backlick a remnant of the pre-parkway era of crummy roads in this area, I arrived at Route 1. I was shocked to see the destruction caused by a wideninDSCN4055g project that politicians hope will improve on gridlock in this area. This will encourage still more development to the south solving not a thing in the long run.

I waited for the light to turn green but it was operated by a metal sensitive wire in the road. The Cross Check has insufficient steel to activate the switch, a fact that I could only learn after getting stiff in a very long light cycle. I noticed a beg button to the left. VDOT, this is not England. Bikes don’t ride on the left. Once the oncoming cars went through the intersection, I blew the red light.

I rode into Fort Belvoir and stopped behind a van at the security checkpoint. The van was being given a serious search. After waiting a discrete amount of time, I walked over the curb and used a different lane. I think the van was operated by the base’s security people. They were testing the thoroughness of the security. I showed my drivers license and rolled through.

Up the hill and through the base I rode. A sign said that the golf course is open to the public.Woot.

I rolled by the Officers’ Club past the roadside signs that announced a seafood buffet on Friday! Woot. Woot.

Down the hill I rode to Walker Gate. I smoked that sucker only to find for the first time since 9/11 the gate was close.

I rode across the base to the Route 1 gate which dumped me onto a three-lane highway without a paved shoulder (go VDOT!).

I reached the Mount Vernon Highway and realized that the breeze from my riding had disguised a pretty hot day. I slogged away riding the gradual uphill to Mount Vernon.

After a short water break at the end of the Mount Vernon Trail I took off downhill on the MVT. A family was riding up the hill. Their ten-year-old was struggling with his head down. He veered into the left lane. He’s lucky I wasn’t a Lancelot trying to time trial down the hill. I braked and called out to him. He looked up, realized he was in the wrong place and, with a fatigued wobble, moved to the right.

A half-mile later at Riverside Park, a begining bicyclist on a pink bike with tassles and a training wheels was riding between his mom and dad who were on foot. The three abreast left no room for any other trail users. Mom, who was on the left, had headphones in. I rang my bell. She stepped further to the left making a bad situation worse. I think this family has situational awareness issues. Or maybe they are just more important that the rest of us.  Regardless, the Cross Check had a simple solution: go overland. I swerved onto the grass and blew past them.

Thus, within a mile, I encountered two examples why kids shouldn’t ride on the Mount Vernon Trail. It’s beyond their skill level or their parents’.

The rest of the ride home, I was on fumes. Nothing to eat for four hours will do that to you. I rolled into home after 62 miles.

I think the Cross Check has passed the audition