Ride Home 4/27: Vampire Diatribes

Left late on a Friday. Made up for it by savoring the ride home. Savory.
I like riding down Massachusetts in the afternoon and watching the people ride back up it. It reminds of a mountain stage in a bicycle race after the lead group cracks and individual cyclists are strewn and separated and trying to make their way up the mountain as best they can in the attempt to claw back measly seconds from the guy in front of them. Of course, most bicycle races don't feature hybrid bikes with rear racks piloted by 50 year old dudes in khakis and bright yellow jackets. At least not the ones they show on cable. (Also, 50 year old dudes in jackets and yellow jackets is one of this blog's key readership demographics. I think you guys are great!)
I like the move when you jaywheel but in a crosswalk, so it's like, no, it's cool, I'm in the crosswalk.
Hit a manhole cover and the bike really rattled. I trust that the frame can handle it and the tires can handle it, but yikes for poor brittle me. I don't worry about pinch flats any more because of the Schwalbe "Punctures become obsolete"  Marathon Plus tires that I have. Of course, punctures may become obsolete doesn't necessarily guarantee that I won't get a pinch flat, which is a different thing, but whatever. I like the tires, but they have sort of terrible rolling resistance and they're also heavy. Tradeoffs.
I always smile when I see someone riding a cruiser. Cruisers are really cool.
When the smooth jazz band playing outside the Metro is playing an instrumental version of that Gym Class Heroes song, who exactly wins?
This happens when I'm driving a car too, but I got stuck behind someone who was going just fast enough (but relatively slow) to nip in the end of the yellow light, but only with just barely enough time so that I had to stop at the red. Is there a name for this? It should be named something. Giving it a name will rob it of it's power to ruin days. Or not. But it should have a name.
Zip cars. To the best of my understanding, the drivers don't pay for gas or insurance. So, why don't other drivers insist that Zip cars shouldn't be on the road because they don't pay "road tax, as is sometimes suggested fo bicyclists? I mean, aside from the fact that this is an inane argument for all parties, since there's no such thing as road tax and that gas taxes fall far below what's necessary to keep up highways, which bicycles aren't allowed on anyway.
Saw this on Q. You might not be able to read it, but it's a chalk message that says "Don't Fuck."

Abstinence education has gone street.
11th street problems. Well, maybe not problems, but blocked roads at Mass. I think there might have been a motorcade coming. When I biked by, the cop said "We knew you were coming, so we just it just for you." What he said didn't register before I babbled "Thank you," perhaps a bit too ebulliently. I don't really need the police to close the roads, but I wouldn't mind a police escort. An equestrian police escort. (How does a horse even get into the Academy?)
Lady with kid, her no helmet, kid no helmet, both in regular clothes, her talking on her phone. Guy, intense and racerly, bright jacket, helmet [TFTS key demo!]. I don't think she was American.
East Capitol bike lanes repaved. Looks like they're the same as they ever were. Panic over.

Oh and the streets weren't wholly paved, so it was bumpy. Bump bump bump. Still better than riding on crowded sidewalks.
What kind of chowder do I plan on eating for dinner? No chowder at all. We already ate. That's an odd way to end a blog post. See you Monday.

No comments:

Post a Comment