The Intoverted Volunteer

The Washington Area Bicycling Association (WABA) is a membership funded bicycle advocacy organization. They’ve been hard at work for over 40 years helping the DC area become a better place to ride a bike. This week they are holding a membership drive so I volunteered to help out at a sign up location on the Mount Vernon Trail near the 14th Street Bridge.

I arrived early and waited for the WABA staff person to show up with the sign up materials. It was warm and the sun was still shining. At around 5 o’clock I saw something that I have not noticed before. There was a torrent of bicycles streanming down the ramp from the bridge. This was especially surprising to me since I hadn’t seen many bike commuters in the morning. They were coming fast and all I could think of was how do you get them to stop?

After a few minutes, Lolly showed up. She is WABA’s membership coordinator. She had all the paperwork, clipboards, pens, and a gizmo on her smartphone for taking payments. And she had sidewalk chalk. After getting our bikes secured, she went up the ramp to write WABA and draw arrows on the trail. She is brave. And crazy. Meanwhile I decided that this membership gig called for some serious extroversion. Being a total introvert, I decided to put on an accent and bark like a hot dog vendor at a ballpark (Get your WABA memberships heah!) Cyclists just kept zooming past probably wondering what that lunatic on the side of the trail was yelling about. Many of them had ear buds in. I HATE earbuds. I thought, “This is going to be a long evening.”

Then, as if by a miracle, a rider stopped. Lolly did her smartphone thing and I ran off with the chalk to write on the trail to the north and south. More ballpark vending ensued. This is TOTALLY not like me. I was really uncomfortable, but no guts, no glory. Another person stopped and another. One was a guy who had let his WABA membership lapse. He originally joined in 1973! He re-upped. Go team!

Dana, a jovial and somewhat insane bike commuter and frequent attendee at cycling get-togethers like Friday Coffee Club and the Third Thursday happy hour, stopped and pitched in. His voice and enthusiasm project better than mine and he worked the trail like a man possessed. More and more people stopped to sign up. I kept barking out my pleas for members. “Sign up for WABA or I’ll kill my cat!” (Note: I don’t own a cat.) Dana handed out some chewing gum to us which helped immensely as I was starting to lose my voice.

Our numbers grew again when Larry showed up. He had walked over for the Columbia Island parking area on the opposite side of the George Washington Memorial Parkway. Unlike the rest of us, he looked like a grown up in normal office clothing. He started right in soliciting memberships. Somehow he managed to speak entire sentences to passing cyclists. Meanwhile, I was falling to my knees shamelessly begging for people to sign up. An old school DC lawyer once was overheard telling his protégé. “Never be afraid to make a fool of yourself for your client.” I took his advice to heart.

After a while Dana rode off. Thanks, for helping. We really couldn’t have done it with out you, sir. WABA owes you a tall latte and a fritter.

Occasionally, people would stop by to chat. An “old” (hey, he looked about my age but he self identified as old) man came by with a big yellow bucket sitting on the top tube of his bike. He had a fishing rod, broken into two parts like a pool cue, strapped to the top tube a well. The bottom of the inside of the bucket was covered with bait fish. He didn’t sign up but he talked a blue streak about fishing and his 1955 gas guzzling Chevy. I tried to be polite but the cyclists were still passing by and the sun was setting. What made it doubly stressful is that (a) I don’t know diddly about fishing and (b) I am an introvert (see above). After about five minutes, he rode off to land the big one.

In the process of the event, Darren Buck stopped by. We hadn’t met in the flesh before, but knew each other from various Internet dicussions. He will be working the same site on Thursday night with WABA’s Alex. Also Lane, one of the DC randos and a Friday Coffee Club regular, blew on by with a wave. And Bike House Chris, who was in the 2013 Hoppy 100 posse and an excellent two-bikes at once rider, came by to shoot the breeze.

We called it a night as the sun set. Lolly was a happy camper with a great big pile o’ memberships. Larry walked off into the sunset. Big Nellie and I rode off into the dark with my introversion restored.

Two Reasons to Bike Commute

Potomac RIver Sunrise October 21, 2013 by Rootchopper

Potomac RIver Sunrise October 21, 2013, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

It was the first cold bike commute of the year. 40 degrees is plenty cold enough for me. I was warmed up in a mile and the tailwind made the transition to true autumn weather a breeze (sorry). I stopped along the river to admire the sunrise. Reason number one to bike commute.

The ride home was warmer but the headwind was not a lot of fun. As I was climbing out from under the Woodrow Wilson Bridge I heard a SMASH. When I reached South Washington Street I saw the car with its front left side all smashed in. Reason number two to bike commute.

Tomorrow I will be helping the Washington Area Bicycling Association sign up new members on the Mount Vernon Trail at the 14th Street Bridge. Stop by, say hello, set a spell. And become a member. It’s like a cult only more better.

On Groucho Marx and Coffeeneuring

I’m tired. Just run down. I don’t feel good. This may be because I’ve been riding constantly thanks to Furloughmas and bike commuting and other adventures. So the irony of all my riding is that today is a perfect day to ride and I don’t much feel up to it. The Washington Post ran an article today about a guy who lives near my house and rides his bike to Rockville Maryland everyday for work. His commute is 70 miles round trip. As Groucho Marx once said to the husband of a woman who was averaging giving birth to more than one child a year: “I like my cigar but I take it out once in a while.”

For the record my commute is about 30 miles round trip. I am nowhere near as fit as the guy in the article. Then again, I actually have time to sleep.

So you’d think I’d take the day off the bicycle. Think again. I decided to go for a short ride to get some coffee and add to my coffeeneuring madness. So I hopped on Big Nellie and made my way ever so slowly to Old Town Alexandria. My left quadricep felt like lead. The was no elasticity to it for most of the trip. Twas a struggle (Twas?), nut I made it to Firehook Bakery on Union Street in the heart of OldTownLand. I didn’t have high expectations for the coffee but I was pleasantly surprised by the French roast that I had. I also consumed an Italiano sammich. Not half bad. I’ll have to remember this place for future refuelings.

My quad came back to life for the ride home, but I wasn’t setting any speed records. I called it a day after 14 miles.

Coffeeneuring No. 9 (number 9, number 9, number 9):

Location: Firehook Bakery on Union Street in Old Town Alexandria (part of the Mount Vernon Trail)

Drink: French Roast

Miles: 14

Observation: For a town on the Mount Vernon Trail, the East Coast Greenway, the Adventure Cycling Association Atlantic Coast and Tidewater Potomac routes, Old Town Alexandria has crappy bike parking. Which is to say, it has next to no bike parking.

Coffeeneuring No. 8: Charity, Chinatown, and the Future

A friend of ours is out of town. She was donating her car, parked at her place on Capitol Hill, to charity. The charity failed to pick the car up yesterday. I decided to check out the situation today, a perfect excuse for a bike ride in to the city.

Before I left home, I once again tweaked the new saddle on The Mule. I measured the fore/aft position of the saddle on Little Nellie. Little Nellie was custom made to replicate the configuration of The Mule. What I discovered was that the saddle on The Mule was one inch farther forward than the saddle on Little Nellie. So I slid The Mule’s saddle back and headed out for DC.

I could tell right away that this little tweak was just what the doctor ordered. Just that one inch was all I needed to get my groove back on this bike. With a steady tailwind, I rode straight up the Mount Vernon Trail to DC. It felt great to be buzzing along feeling as if the bike and I were in sync.

I rode down the National Mall hoping to spot some people I knew to no avail. I made my way to Capitol Hill and verified that our friend’s car had indeed been picked up. Since I had already used up two coffee shops at Eastern Market for earlier coffeeneuring adventures, I decided to head downtown for a cup of coffee at Chinatown Coffee Company. I learned of Chinatown Coffee from the Queen of Caffeine and her husband, the King of Espresso who stop there during the 50 States Ride.

I had some Honduran coffee. It was as good as any coffee I’ve had so far. Right up there with Swings and St. Elmo’s. I was disappointed that they didn’t have much in the way of food. So I sipped the coffee and read the newspaper. I really like the ambiance of this place. I will definitely add it to my future coffee sorties.

Properly caffeinated, I rode across downtown to White House Plaza. None of my peeps were going gaga over the prez, so I headed for home. On the way, I stopped at Belle View Shopping Center to check out a new bakery/restaurant that Nancy “Two Sheds” Duley tweeted about earlier in the day. The place isn’t open yet, but I had a long talk with the owners and admired the loaves of bread they had lined up on the window sill. The owner gave me a loaf of French bread which he called 50 percent. It looked and smelled great but he was still fine tuning his baking products. He was confident that they all will be 100 percent. I am looking forward to that.

With le pain in le pannier, I headed for home. I tried out the new bike trail along side Fort Hunt Road. It’s a lovely trail but pretty much useless for getting anywhere. To get on it, you take a windy sidewalk that twists and turns. The path itself is wide and smooth but it winds left and right, up and down parallel to Fort Hunt Road which is a smooth steady climb. At one point I had to duck under a large tree limb, the remnant of an even bigger limb that had fallen over the trail. Add trail maintenance to the list of many things lacking in Fairfax County bicycle infrastructure. How sad it is that the bike trails and bike routes in Fairfax County, which is mostly suburban, is inferior to the trails, routes and cycle tracks in DC and Arlington.

The 16th Day of Furloughmas: Coffeeneur No. 7

I am starting to get the hang of this furlough thing. Stay in bed until 8:45, read the paper, eat breakfast, surf the net, then go riding. And so I did.

My legs are pretty tired, not so much from high mileage but from not being used to my new saddle. After yesterday’s ride, I lowered the saddle a touch for today’s escapade.

Running out of places to go, I decided to do yesterday’s ride in reverse, a loop into Maryland on the Woodrow Wilson bridge, then up to Oxon Hill Road (aptly named). I worked my way west to the very edge of DC and turn onto Livingston Road SE. Then it was up a big hill to Malcolm X Boulevard and eventually to Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, the main drag of Anacostia. That’s what I intended, but I made a wrong turn. It didn’t matter because the hill and MLK are inevitable. MLK led directly to the new 11th Street bridge trail over the Anacostia River. On the west side of the river, I picked up the Riverwalk Trail. I understand that cycling is banned on this trail but I didn’t see the sign so I went with plausible deniability and rode.

I rode around Nationals Park and spotted the bicycle valet sign for future use. Working across near southeast and southwest on I Street which was being repaved. Not a lot of fun but it got the job done. After riding past the fish market, I made my way to the 14th Street bridge into Virginia. Then it was down the Mount Vernon Trail to Old Town where I stopped at Perks for a cuppa joe. I had the house medium roast with a blueberry muffin. Both were satisfactory. The leather sofa was much appreciated.

Up to this point, my ass was hurting. I checked my saddle and saw that it was developing a depression where my right sit bone was but not a corresponding one on the left. The reason for the asymmetry was the fact that the tip of the saddle was pointing between 12 and 1 o’clock, the result of my adjustment. I re-adjusted the saddle and was more comfortable right away. This could have been the result of sitting on a big sofa in Perks for a half an hour.

The ride home was my usual 12 mile per hour autopilot affair. The leaves on the MVT were still very wet and this made for some tense riding for about a mile.

When I got home, I checked the news. It appears that the government shutdown is all but over. Since this is my last day of sloth, I decided to mow the lawn.

Cofffeeneuring Stats:

Ride: Number 7

Place: Perks on North Fairfax Street near Old Town Alexandria

Drink: House medium roast (with a blueberry muffin)

Observation: Saddles should always point to 12 o’clock. Leather sofas are already broken in.

The 15th Day of Furloughmas: Coffeeneuring No. 6 – a Bait and Switch

Woke up. No work. Stumble and bumble about the house. Get me outta here.

I pulled The Mule out of the shed and headed for the site of the Wednesday Coffee Club: Best Buns in Shirlington. My route was a meander that included neighborhood streets, the Mount Vernon Trail, Old Town, Del Ray, and Arlandria. It was a lovely day out so there was no point in rushing. One reason for my slow pace was that I am getting used to my new saddle. Before starting out, I adjusted the saddle a bit by tilting the nose up just a tad. This will keep me from sliding forward on the slippery new leather.

After ten miles it was clear that this new saddle was going to take some getting used to. Having a firm, flat saddle under my butt was messing with my pedaling mechanics. Only one way to find out: pedal some more.

I stopped at Best Buns and was disappointed to see that their coffee was Starbucks. I’m not a fan, but I have to say that whatever roast they were serving was fine. I had a bacon cheddar scone with the coffee and it was pretty darn tasty.

After my coffeeneuring duties were done, I jumped on my bike and headed uphill into Fairlington, a planned community of row houses from decades ago. Not wanting to ride on busy Route 7, I turned and headed back downhill to Walter Reed Drive which took me to the W and OD trail. I’m getting sick of the W&OD so I decided to assault Mount Walter Reed. From the W&OD Walter Reed goes straight up. It goes so high that St Peter greets you at the top. Thanks to my granny gear I made it all the way without dying so St Peter gave me a pass for later use. I rode across Arlington and down to the Custis Trail which I took to the Key Bridge. It was so pretty along the river that a television cameraman was set up taking some footage of the twinking waters of the Potomac River below.

I rode with the cars and the buses and dodge a few pedestrians along M Street in Georgetown. Then more of the same on Pennsylvania Avenue. The plaza in front of the White House was open. I know the people who drive in DC hat that this stretch of Pennsylvania Avenue is closed but it sure makes for a great place for people to hang out.

The scone was wearing off so I headed for home. Down the 15th Street cycletrack to the 14th Street bridge. I did a bit of meandering along the Four Mile Run trail before heading across Del Ray to Old Town. Having survived Walter Reed, I decided to take Fort Hunt Road which has a respectable hill. This one was no problem thanks, in part, to a tailwind. I was going to go 40 today, but my hunger got the best of me and I headed for home and some left over beef stroganoff.

After eating, I went into my basement and fetched a box for the trash. It contained all the award placards from my government career. After my parents dies, we were left with all kinds of memorabilia that meant something to them but were just stuff to us. So as a gift to my kids, I tossed my box of awards. They’ll get plenty of their own.

Box of Awards - Heave Ho! — Box of Awards – Heave Ho!

Coffeeneuring No. 6:

Place: Best Buns in Shirlington

Drink: Unspecified Starbucks with a splendid bacon and cheddar scone

Miles: 37

Observation: After the ride I lowered my saddle a touch which I hope will restore my mechanics.

Coffeenuering No. 5: The Undaunted Coffeeneur

Finally, a day without rain! Yay. I hopped on Big Nellie and headed south for the village of Occoquan on the Occoquan River. I was looking forward to riding the 20+ miles there and settling in with a book and a cup o’joe.

The Mount Vernon Trail was a bad choice for the ride. It is covered in wet leaves. Big Nellie does not like slick surfaces because her weight distribution is skewed toward the rear, resulting in the front wheel skidding out and the engine (that would be me) hitting the ground. I managed to avoid crashing but it made for a slow and tense trip.

At about 7 miles, I was supposed to turn into Fort Belvoir. Traversing the fort is necessary because US Route 1 through the fort is a high speed four lane road with no shoulders. When I made the turn, I was greeted by a big electric signs advising that the entrance was closed. Bummer.

Closed? But, but..... — Closed? But, but…..

I decided to ride across Route 1 and head back north on neighborhood side streets. It is a boring, flat ride and you can get lost easily. I’ve done it a million times though so no worries. Once back in my neck of the woods, I headed north on Fort Hunt Road, thereby avoiding the MVT’s leaves. I took a side trip to Spokes to cash in a coupon for a free tube. And who said ad mail was junk?

In the store I chanced upon an old friend Jeff who was buying pedals for his bike. Jeff’s son has a habit of appropriating bike parts from Jeff’s bike for his own bike. What are kids for, right? Jeff and I traded furlough stories for a good half and hour before heading our separate ways. I went north on Fort Hunt Road to find some coffee. I ended up at Misha’s Coffeehouse at King and Patrick (US 1) Streets in Old Town. The Route 66 blend seemed appropriate since I was getting my kicks. I also bought a macaroon-type food thingy. The coffee was tasty, but the macaroon left me wanting more eats.

Misha's Coffee and Macaroon Thingy — Misha’s Coffee and Macaroon Thingy

I rode Patrick Street north through Old Town. I then turned off onto Potomac Avenue, a new road that runs parallel to US 1 and that seems to avoided detection by 99 percent of drivers. Several miles later I stopped at the Pentagon 911 Memorial, to use the rest room. It is a moving memorial that you should check out if you haven’t. There is ample bike parking at the entrance.

A mile further on I rode in front of the Lincoln Memorial where I was surprised to see tourists all over the place. I guess the Park Service has given up on the silly barriers it was putting up all over town.

I rode Constitution Avenue the length of the Mall and up Capitol Hill. Then I hopped over to East Capitol Street and rode that due east to RFK Stadium. The signage for bike routes around RFK leaves a lot to be desired but I managed to find Oklahoma Avenue which led me to the Anacostia River Trail system. I crossed the river and rode the trail to the streets of Anacostia, because you can never climb Martin Luther Kind Jr. Boulevard enough times. I improvised, using part of the 50 States Route, and wended my way to Valley Drive which dropped me one block from the DC-Maryland line. I took a left and was soon riding merrily through strip mall bound traffic on Indian Head Highway. I moved to an access road to avoid the loving embrace of a steady stream of SUVs and ground up a long hill. Soon I was enjoying street luge on the streets descending to National Harbor.

I crossed the Potomac on the fab Woodrow Wilson Bridge trail and headed up the MVT for home. I arrived without any lead induced mishaps and congratulated myself for snatching a 48 mile ride from the clutches of the nonexistent biking infrastructure of southeastern Fairfax County.

Neither Rain, Nor Saddle Will Stay This Coffeeneur from the Swift Completion of His Caffeine Addiction

I check the weather. It was 58 degrees, a bit breezy, with a touch of mist in the air. Basically, it’s impossible to dress for this kind of crap. So I put on my shorts, a wicking shirt, and some wool socks, and topped it off with my Marmot Precip rain jacket and headed out to get The Mule.

At the last coffee club, Ed, founder of the coffee club and King of Espresso, took a hold of the top of my saddle and wiggled it. It sounded like it was about to fall apart. What a shame. It’s a Brooks Flyer, a leather saddle with suspension springs. The leather is broken in like a well worn baseball glove. Unfortunately, the saddle is sagging in the middle, and the tensioning bolt is stripped. It’s kaput.

So the mission was to ride to Bicycle Space, a bike shop in DC that carries Brooks saddles. No sooner had I put my feet on the pedals than the rain started. No longer mist, this was a steady soaking rain, great for lawns, lousy for fall bike rides.

I stopped, put my hood up underneath my helmet and pedaled away. The Mount Vernon Trail was slick with wet leaves so the going was slow and methodical. The rain let up, but the leaves still meant no quick stops or turns or there would be a quick fall. On the Dyke Marsh bridge, a 50-something cyclists on a road bike was peeling himself off the decking. He was okay; he just felt stupid for riding too fast on the slick boards. In Belle Haven Park, crocuses were in bloom. All this cold rain fooled them into thinking it was spring.

Along the trail just north of Old Town, a middle aged couple was walking, he on the right, she on the left. The came to an intersection and crossed. A bollard was situated in the middle of the trail in front of them. She steps to the left of the bollard directly into my path. I had my finger on my bell but he tugged her to the right side of the trail. I rolled past and heard him say, “Say something” to me. So I said, “Walk on the right” a decent enough retort as I didn’t use more colorful language or confront him.

The planes were taking off to the north meaning I had a head wind. So I ground away at 10 miles per hour, just right for rolling over the wet leaves and keeping the rubber side down. In the city I rode up 7th Street hitting red light after red light. Um, DC, it’s Sunday and the mall area is deserted. Set the lights to blinking, please.

I rode through Chinatown looking for Chinatown Coffee for my coffeeneuring fix. I couldn’t find it and did not have my smartphone to help me (it’s government issue and I am forbidden from using it). I continued on to Bicycle Space and bought the saddle. With a new saddle and its recently installed, The Mule has a completely different feel.

After my shopping stop, I rode over to Eastern Market and sat down for a cup of coffee and a scone. The coffee at Peregrine Espresso was as good as I’ve had so far and the scone was delish. Back on the bike, I rode back to the MVT and headed for home. I ran into Ed, a friend from work, who is also furloughed. After the chat is was on to home with a ten mile ride around the perimeter of the Fort Hunt neighborhood and a stop at Sherwood Hall Gourmet for a Garry’s Lunchbox sammich.

At the end of the ride, I was left with one question: why does Peregrine spell it’s name with a schwa?

Coffeeneur No. 4:

Place: Peregrine Espresso at Eastern Market

Drink: House blend (Mexican) and a scone

Miles: 43

The 11th Day of Furloughmas: Friday Coffeeneuring Club

Last Friday, I slept in and missed the most heavily attended Friday Coffee Club. This Friday I would not be denied, even if it meant riding in the rain. So I was up and out of the house by 6:30 and headed to DC. It was DARK. Middle of the night DARK. I pedaled The Mule toward the circle of light cast by my Stella headlight. The mist made me regret wearing my rain pants but when it gave way to steady rain, my choice was vindicated.

It was good to see plenty of runners out on the Mount Vernon Trail. The marathon season is here and those last long training runs must be done. As every runner knows, there are not bad days for running. They sure looked soggy though.

The ride north was into an occasionally stiff headwind which really got my attention as I crossed the Potomac River on the 14 Street bridge. The rain was so steady that there was little need to reach down for my water bottle. From the bladder of the gods.

I took 17 Street to Friday Coffee Club because I did not know if White House Plaza which connects the 15th Street cycletrack to 17th was open. When I arrived at Swings a handful of folks were sitting at the outside tables which are protected from the rain.

It took a while but a decent number of people, ten or fifteen, gathered to chat. Jacques showed up with Hugo, the cutest one-year old boy on the planet. We (excepting Hugo who was busy eating Jacques’ muffin and some Cheerios) solved all the world’s problems in short order and lingered because most of us had no job to go to thanks to the government shutdown. Mary, Queen of Coffeeneuring, was anxious to get back to her government job. I tried to get her to be one with the furlough, to accept her nonessential fate, to embrace unpaid sloth. I am not sure I convinced her.

After a long linger, we went our separate ways. I actually participated in my first roll out, the tradition of riding east across White House Plaza. Ed, normally the roll out photographer declined to snap my picture, protecting his camera from the steady rain. I bid adieu to Ed and Mary at the Pennsylvania Avenue cycle track and headed for home. Once back on the MVT I enjoyed a steady tailwind and a trail of my own all the way to Old Town. With each passing mile the rains increased in intensity until I was riding through a deluge. Belle Haven Park had a decent number of runners slogging about. Runners are tough.

I rolled into home to find my house invaded by our cleaning service. I snuck in the back door and went down to the basement to take off all my wet things. Once the crew left, I showered and sat down to another hard day of furloughing.

Coffeeneuring No. 4

Location: Swings House of Caffeine at 17th and G Streets NW, Washington DC

Drink: Colombian house brew. The best of the four coffeeneuring brews so far.

Miles: 28.5 (I think my new front tire short changed me by about a mile.)

Highlight: Hugo, the world youngest coffeeneur

The Introverted Advocate

Myers-Briggs tests consistently show that I am an introvert with a capital I. My idea of hell on earth is being in a big reception and not knowing anybody. Another manifestation of hell on earth is US Route 1 in Fairfax County. To put two hells together I attended a long range planning meeting tonight on the future of Route 1. The meeting was billed as “Route 1 Multimodal Alternatives Analysis”. Sounds exciting, doesn’t it?

It’s actually a pretty interesting project. Route 1 has no rail rapid transit, is overwhelmed by car traffic, is a nightmare to ride a bike on or walk across, and is butt ugly. And the 15 miles of Route 1 between Alexandria and Route 123, just over the Prince William County line, is expected to see plenty of growth in the next 25 years.

The project is being done by a bunch of state and local agencies that recognize that planning for more car traffic which currently rules the road is a non-starter. Many years ago the people who planned Metro decided not to run the yellow line down Route 1. Everyone now sees what a mistake this was. The future will almost certainly include a rail (light or heavy) or bus rapid transit. It will also include something like six lanes for cars. Eek!

The meeting was held at the South County government center on Route 1 about 1 1/2 miles from my house. Normally, I had already ridden this stretch of Route 1 earlier in the day to fetch my car from a body shop. That was in daylight with no rain. The meeting was after dusk and rain was falling. I drove. Shoot me.

The perimeter of the meeting room was lined with posters explaining various aspects of the project. I saw the word “bicycle” twice. Once was on a board about the desire to build a healthy alternative to the current car-centric mess. The other was on a poster that showed the new bike lanes already being built along Route 1 through Fort Belvoir. I was not optimistic about the bicycle aspects of the project.

Project leaders gave a 30 minute presentation. For the first 20 minutes, the word bicycle was not mentioned once. In the last ten minutes, it was mentioned six times. The development team realizes that making the corridor bike and pedestrian friendly is a high priority. (There is nowhere to go but up.) One slide was dedicated to the fact that the bike routes near Route 1 are, to cut to the chase, an inadequate mess. When the presenter said that the bike routes in the area lacked “connectivity” I actually laughed out loud, because that’s the word I used on my comment form.

Fortunately the project planners are aware of successful retrofits to old infrastructure in Arlington, DC, Charlotte, and Richmond. They seem to intend to steal liberally from the best of these kinds of projects.

After the presentation I went up to the “connectivity” speaker to offer more bike comments. It turns out he’s a bike commuter (from DC to Arlington). He obviously gets it. Then I got interviewed by a reporter for the Patch online newspapers. I don’t know why she picked me out of the crowd. Maybe it’s the new “Interview Me” tattoo on my forehead.

After the presentation, the project staffers were aligned around the room next to their posters to listen to feedback. I went to one poster to make a comment about biking and the first thing I saw on the adjacent white board was “Make it more bike and ped friendly”! Somebody beat me to the punch. I hung around and chatted with some folks, explaining how much nicer a place it would be to live if you could access all that retail activity without driving.

So, with some irony, I left the meeting and drove home.

Part of me envies the planners because it’s a cool project with so much upside for making the area a better place to live. From 1970 to 1990, Fairfax County bought in to the idea that sprawl and haphazard development was good. Now that county residents have had 20+ years to experience the fruits of these policies, the county and state realize that they have a ton of work to do to make.

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