Ride In 6/13: Nails from the Pharoahs

Flat

Not much more dispiriting than discovering a flat tire right as you're about to leave for work. I've had the Ogre for a few weeks now and I've had an evil curse on me for a few years now, so it's about right that this bike has finally been afflicted. I didn't examine the cause. I didn't attempt to repair it. I have patches, but no spare tubes. I was running a little late and didn't want to spend the time trying to diagnose and resolve the issue, especially since I didn't really think I could fix it anyway. I try not to get too upset about flat tires because if I did, given the frequency with which I get them, I would be perpetually upset. Flats, all kinds of flats, happen on all of my bikes. Maybe my house was built atop a former glass factory. Maybe I once accidentally ran over the woodland home of a series of magical elves and they've decided to avenge the loss of their former abode. Maybe I am just supremely unlucky. I don't know. Since it happens on each of my bikes, I can't blame one kind of tire or one kind of rim strip or tube. It's me and I've made peace with that. It's like the worst X-Men mutation ever. "Oh, you can shoot lasers from your eyes? Check this out- yeah, I've rendered this bike temporarily unusable. Yeah, it's my own bike and not the bike of our enemies or anything. Yeah, no, I don't really have another way to get around. What's that, Professor X? You'd like me to leave your special school. Lemme just get on my bike- oh wait, nevermind. Where's the bus again?"

I rode the Cross Check, my erstwhile commuter, and it felt very small compared to the beefy, ample Ogre. I felt hunched over, as if my knees would smack me in the face. Aside from the size difference, I was also riding on road pedals for the time in years and they were tight and I was mostly convinced that my inability to unclip in a timely manner would result in my falling down in a somewhat hilarious (or not) manner. I didn't, so that was nice at least. There's always the ride home.

Uneventful to Friday Coffee Club and then afterwards down G Street through Foggy Bottom. I rode with Rootchopper a little until we parted ways by Virginia Avenue and then for me it was down K/Water Street and up Wisconsin Avenue and for him it was either over the bridge and to work in Rosslyn or back down to his house to sit on the deck and drink beers.

The other funny thing about the Cross Check, which I had mostly forgotten, is that its rear derailleur is kinda messed up and needs replacing. Whoops. It shifted ok and didn't make too many scary grindy clacky noises, but I should probably get it taken care of sooner rather than later. I had put fixing it on the back burner since I didn't intend to commute on this bike any time soon, but you know, flat tires and such. I thought that the bike would feel a bit more springy since it's stripped down with no rack and no fenders and lighter tires and no coffee cup holder, but it didn't really feel much lighter than the very heavy Ogre and I think I attribute that to my own lack of energy lately. Bikes, so they say, aren't horses [note: while this is factually accurate, I'm not sure it's an actual saying. Nor should it be, really] and my bike doesn't go on its own, no matter how much barley and sugar cubes I give it. In fact, I think my bike mechanic would really prefer not to have to pick barley husks from the rear cogs. Live and learn, I guess.

At the intersection of Wisconsin and Massachusetts, I rode across the street in the crosswalk (I normally pull up on the sidewalk to get out of the way while waiting for the light to turn green) and I had a nearly very unpleasant experience with the front of a Mercedes, whose driver barreled it into the crosswalk, presumably in the attempt to make a (illegal there) right turn on red. I have no problems with the rule about right turns on red except for the rule itself, which is a terrible and anti-people idea. You cannot simultaneously prioritize the safe movement of people in crosswalks and the continued flow of car traffic through those same crosswalks. It just doesn't work.

Ride Home 6/11: Mail from the Scarecrows

Ogre? More like Slow-gre. I wasn't feeling it yesterday (it being verve. I did feel heat, humidity and deep wells of lassitude) and so I propelled myself at a speed barely faster than a slow trot. Having no horses by which to pace myself, that's only an estimation. One of the virtues (I guess) of keeping track of my rides for the past two days on Strava (STRAAAAAAAAAVVAAAAAAAAA!) was learning (though I already knew this, so maybe a better word is confirming) that the difference between one of my 'try to go fast' commutes  and one of my 'take your time' commutes is six minutes. Six minutes isn't a lot of minutes (more than 5, fewer than 7 say mathematicians) and in the summer heat and balminess, I'll gladly make the trade of one tenth of an hour of extra time on the bike for more than substantial increase in enjoyment of the trip. In fact, I think I'd make this trade in all seasons.

I shall confess, but only obliquely, to violating my vow of unfiddling. I shall spare you the details of how much time I spent fiddling, where I publicly fiddled, how inept and ineffectual said fiddling was, and how I've, this morning, the day after fiddling, fiddled once more to make up for the ad hoc, in transit fiddling I did yesterday on the ride home. I am very close to taking a friend of the blog's advice and getting a proper bike fitting, if only to sate my neurosis (and to properly fit my bike). I will offer some unsolicited advice that you should not needlessly fiddle with your bike roadside as the conditions are less than ideal and, if you're inclined towards self-consciousness, you might come to suspect that a man nearby talking on his cellphone is conveying in Chinese nothing other than the topic of your mechanical ineptitude to his conversation partner. One of the most hilarious consequences of my fiddling was subsequently having my multitool fall from my bag, through the spokes on my rear wheel, and onto the pavement of K Street as I attempted to cross it. I scurried back and picked it up and considered my lesson learnt.

Normally, L Street is my preferred route but sometimes I find myself on Pennsylvania avenue west of 17th Street and it's a considerably more direct route. It has no bike facilities and fewer bicyclists (heading east at least) and it's a bit of a mess with drivers trying to head home to Virginia. So, tradeoffs.

Passed by a Bikeshare commuter. Passed by other bike commuters as well. Didn't care. Don't care.

Pulled a u-turn and chased down some people collecting signatures for the local effort to legalize cannabis and added my name to the list. I don't (and haven't ever) use cannabis, but it seems like a thing that should be legal given all of the terrible repercussions and consequences of its being prohibited. Plus, it's always good to sign petitions for ballot measures. Democracy and whatnot. I hope you all will sign my forthcoming ballot measure petition for a referendum to legalize the Idaho Stop. Of course, rather than stop at the polls to vote, you'd probably just treat them like a yield sign and we would lose.

No rides to work today (Thursday), but I should be back at it tomorrow. I guess there's been some heavy rain lately, but I've managed to avoid it. My suggestions to those of you who haven't is to go slow, use lights, and wrap yourself in super-absorbent paper towels mummy-style. Sure, it might limit your ability to operate your bike, but the reports in the local newspapers of roving hordes of bicycling mummies would be really fun to read. If you'd rather not don paper towel mummy garb, you can grab a DC flag and show your support for Statehood. Of my favorite hoods, DC statehood ranks above Robin and the brand of ice cream, so I'll be doing my flag selfie (flageflie? that's sounds like a whipping) tomorrow. You can too.

Ride In 6/11: Snails from the Sparrows

Because I just can't leave stuff damn well enough alone, I adjusted the angle of my seat again. I think it's time to start going to Fiddlers Anonymous and I totally would if this group actually existed and also wasn't for violinists and not people who randomly wrench bike parts when there's no special need for it. It's not even that my seat was uncomfortable yesterday. It's just looked not in perfect alignment. I don't know. I'm issuing a 48 hour moratorium on my touching any part of my bike with a wrench, so here's hoping things don't break or whatever.

I'm impressed with the brazenness of my fellow bike commuters who roll red lights next to police cars. Generally, I think there are better deployments of limited police resources than the enforcement of victimless jay___ing, but come on, dudes. It seems like a needless risk. I wonder how many people rolling red lights even notice- the primary concern, obviously, would be the cars potentially coming through the intersection. I think I've only ever seen one time that a police officer pulled over the cyclist in front of me for rolling through a red, but that one time was enough. Of course, you could take this to the extreme conclusion and follow traffic laws even when police officers aren't around, but THAT'S JUST CRAZY TALK. 

I rode up 11th Street today and was pretty lethargic about it. It's a gentle uphill slope, but it really wore me out. I was happy to stop at four successive red lights. Also, to wait behind a turning bus whose driver didn't see me approach in the bike lane as it started to turn. Sometimes it's best to wait. 

M Street from 11th to Thomas Circle and Thomas Circle is terrible and I don't know how you could make it better for bicyclists other than the run a cycletrack directly through the circle but I don't think that the presence of that equestrian statue at the center of the circle is conducive to that situation. Also, I'm sure a cycletrack running from M Street to M Street through the circle would be an unforgivable besmirchment of an important historical circle and one could never stand for such a besmirchment or any polygon, much less a historical circle. There is a bike lane that runs up 14th and another that takes you up Vermont, but neither of those really helps you keep going west and west we must go according to Manifest Destiny and also that's where my workplace is. I guess you could ride through the circle by crossing the slip lane and then crossing another street, but ugh. Anyway, I guess this is why I don't normally go this way.

This is new:

A lot of tourists visit the Reflecting Pool down by the Lincoln Memorial, but don't come see the one in the M Street Cycletrack. I think that they're missing out, but I'm happy to avoid the crowds. The water was only a few inches deep and free of koi. Koi are not NACTO approved. Not yet at least. But they are very colorful and I would have to think that they would improve visibility by 300% (study forthcoming).

It is very annoying to have someone not see you and decide to cross the street against the light as you approach. It's just annoying. It's not the end of the world and for the most part, it's normally not that big of a deal. It happens. But it's annoying. But lots of things are annoying and life goes on. 

Red turn arrows are the new #CONFUSION. 

Wended my way through Georgetown and up some hills and then down Calvert Street and up New Mexico. By the time I got to work, the mugginess and the exertion combined to render my clothes and me beneath them thoroughly gross. Summer is still better than winter. 

Ride Home 6/10: Pails from the Barrows

June hot, but only June hot. Not July hot or August hot or why is so hot in October hot. I like the June heat. There's a lot to like about it. It, for example, wards off frostbite. It keeps at bay rabid penguins (can penguins get rabies? I'm not an expert) It would, theoretically, melt those evil Snow Men from that one Doctor Who episode maybe. It could, though not without sanitary implications, allow for the rising of a souffle inside one's pannier. June heat has a lot going for it.

Down and up and down Massachusetts Avenue and I rode behind a bus advertising the best of music to be played at Wolf Trap this summer. Hall! Oates! Others! (I believe that Lionel Richie and Cee Loo Green might be among the others.) I've never purchased tickets to a music events as a result of being induced by an ad on the back of a bus, but maybe some people do! Maybe you're driving along and this bus driver cuts you off and right as you slam on the horn and just as you're about to curse him out you look up and as the spittle and expletive angle to the edge of the lips you glance up and then, just then, you learn from an ad placed on the back of that bus that the Counting Crows, your favorite band in the whole world, is playing at Wolf Trap this summer and you funnel your rage from the bus driver into the motivation to go to this website as soon as you're home (or maybe you pull over! or maybe you drive right up onto the sidewalk! or maybe you just stop in traffic because you cannot possibly conceive of driving an inch farther without Counting Crows tickets!) and buy those tickets all because of that wonderful, blessed, well-placed bus ad. That's what the Don Draper of bus ads wants. That's what he knows will happen. The Don Draper of bus ads is good. Very good.

Easy down Mass Avenue and easy down 21st, but car traffic on L is mostly ridiculous. I don't know how drivers cope. It complicates things for bicyclists (be safe!) but it doesn't nearly slow things up for cyclists as it does for drives. It's hard to see the system that is car traffic downtown and think that this system isn't broken. I guess most people agree about that- it's the means of fixing it that creates the debate. My suggestion is a congestion charge. No, not a congestion charge for cars, but for noses. But we could also tax Sudafed and Kleenex and use that money for better bus service.

15th to the White House area where the scary security bollards were temporarily down and I rode through but right as I was about to ride through, the guy in the gate house went to lift them. Not to stop me (they're normally pretty ok about bikes) but because a technician who was working on them told him to lift them, having not seen me approach. Tip: if they're down, don't ride through. It's just better for everyone that way.

At Pennsylvania and Constitution, a driver blatantly ignored a red turn signal well after it has turned red and honked quite honkily (I'm a real good writer!) at me and the cyclist in front of me. I responded with my usual fusillade of wit, in which I employ the f word as a noun in between the words stop, you, and what are you doing. It was quite egregious. SIDEBAR: I've never wanted, and don't want know, this blog to become a litany of all the bad and wrong things that sometimes drivers/pedestrians/cyclists/ocelots/M-F-ing pogo-ing bastards do to, at, or near me during my bike commute. One, because I think that's boring. Except maybe if it were ocelots because really. But two, because that's way too negative and the 3 seconds of pique and frustration take up way too much time in the re-telling that it gives those 3 seconds an undue weight. The rest of the trip was fine. UNSIDEBAR (I'm not a lawyer- do you have to announce unsidebars? I should really watch more Judge Judy) My main concern was not that the driver heard me- he most assuredly didn't- but that the bicyclist in front of me thought that I called her the f word as a noun and that I was telling her to stop and questioning what she was doing. I almost said something at 3rd Street to clarify. But how does one even clarify that without even more mortification? "Pardon me miss.." begins the conversation that ends with my mugshot. Anyway. She was totally in the right, the driver was totally in the wrong, and none of the three of us, rightly or wrongly, ended up subject to police action.

Up the hill and down East Capitol and down Kentucky to the grocery store where I bought kale and garbanzo beans ("garbanzo!" is what Spanish paratroopers yell as they alight maybe) and then I rode home and then we ate dinner and then I wrote this.

Two down. Let's keep this going until it gets stale again.

Ride In 6/10: Shale from the Tarots

Friend of the blog and America's most beloved randonneuse, MG, wrote something I found to be especially resonant about riding and writing and that reminded me that I have a bicycling blog and that I used to write quite a lot about riding my bicycle, though I haven't of late. But as of now (before the pernicious fiduciary influence of auto manufacturers leads internet service providers to strangle the bandwidth of marginally popular local bike commute bloggers), there's nothing from stopping me from taking it up again. Though my blogging muscles have atrophied somewhat, I'm going to do my best to (temporarily) revive the old format. The blog and I are going to the Poconos to see if we can get our relationship back on track. We're going to sit in a heart-shaped hot tub together and see if we feel that old spark. Maybe I'll surprise the blog with flowers. Maybe the blog will make my favorite supper. Maybe the blog and I, after some time apart, will look deeply into each other's eyes and remember what it was that drew us together in the first place oh so many years ago. (Well, that was weird. Anyway.)

For the past two days, and against my better inclination, I've pressed to go button on the Strava app that I almost never use on my phone that I use quite a lot. I don't know why I did it. I'm not a Strava (STRAAAAAVVAAAAAAA!) devotee and I don't exactly care about my mileage or time or calories burned. I don't track my miles the same way I don't take a picture of myself in the mirror every morning. I feel relatively confident in my belief that my bike ride existed regardless of an app telling me as much. But for the past two days, I pressed the go button and then I went. I don't know know what revelation I was looking for (or what, if any I've found), but maybe it had something to do with my riding a new bicycle and wanting to quantify (in some rudimentary way) how this new bicycle compares to the old one. Though I don't really need an app to tell me that the new bicycle is performing to my liking and I'm finally happy with the seat height, position and angle. I've fiddled with the seat plenty in the hope of "dialing it in" and this morning, I think it's safe to finally call it dialed. So dialed. More than the soap. More than the M for Murder. It's just really, really dialed. FUN FACT: adjusting a bike seat is one of the few things I can do with a wrench that doesn't totally mess up the proper functioning of my bike and maybe that's why I spend so much time futzing around with it. Also, maybe because a maladjusted bike seat is really bothersome. I am a delicate flower.

Have you noticed that it's summer? One of the clues is the preposterous humidity. It's an urban legend that DC was built on top of a swamp, but not an urban legend that DC was built of top of a giant humidifier, buried by the Freemasons and the Founding Fathers to ward off foreign invaders from naturally dry climates. To this date, America has not been overrun by Bedouins and you can thank the prescience of George Washington and 18th century surreptitious humidification technology.  A lot of people don't know that, but I'm pretty sure I some an exhibit about it once at a museum or maybe it was just a subplot in a Tom Hanks movie. Another clue that it's summer is that there are many bicyclists out and much more than there were in the winter. Perhaps you bemoan these other bicyclists. I know that I get used to having fewer people on bikes around in the winter and I find this somewhat freeing. It's more likely that in the winter I'll be able to set my own pace rather than falling in behind someone, having not enough room to politely pass and enough social grace to recognize that. And then in the summer, there are more other people and it's more likely that my pace will be dictated (at least temporarily) by the person in front of me. And you know what? I'm totally ok with this! Is having to slow down and ride behind someone for a little time something to be very upset about? Not really. Boo hoo, I have to ride my bicycle a little longer than I would have had I been able to go at my preferred speed. Riding at the pace of the bicyclist in front of you, rather than passing them, is like a vacation. Or walking in someone else's shoes. Or getting the wrong luggage at the airport and then wearing someone else's shoes for your vacation (I do not advise this. They might not fit or you might get a fungus.) I think I'd be lying if I suggested that you can learn a lot about someone from riding behind them for a little while. I mean, you can learn if they have cowlicks or if they've stepped in gum or the kinds of things they like to have written on the backs of their tee shirts, but I don't think these sorts of things are very substantive or revealing. [Though the gum thing might reveal that they are careless about where they walk.] What I am trying to suggest, however, is that it's not wholly necessary to try to dictate your own pace all of the time. Especially if you're in no rush or if doing so makes you act rudely. A supple reed blows in the wind or something.

The addition of the cycletrack to M Street has completely altered my route and now I ride across town a few blocks south from where I used to and take Wisconsin Avenue uptown instead of Massachusetts Avenue. I like mixing up my bike routes ("Dialed in and Mixed up: the @sharrowsDC story"), but I also like riding on good bicycle infrastructure and the M Street cycletrack is vastly superior to the stripe of white paint bike lane on R Street. I don't know if it takes me much more time, but I'm happy to make the trade for an overall less stressful ride. M Street in Georgetown, the part that doesn't have the cycletrack, isn't so bad in the morning if you don't mind an occasional bus or unloading truck parked in the farthest right lane. There's a bike lane on 33rd, but most of the time, I ride up Wisconsin Avenue. It goes like this:

M Street to O Street: pretty ok!

O Street to Q Street: less ok! (the left-turn only lane at Q turns the right lane from a haven for slower moving traffic and bicycles to the MUST GET PAST THESE LEFT-TURNING DRIVERS AT ALL COSTS lane, which can be a bit harrowing)

Q Street to R Street: maybe ok! (this depends on whether there is a trafficky cluster at Reservoir and/or whether drivers pretend this street of street is two lanes or just one. If they want to pretend it's two, then I ride on the sidewalk. And I don't feel bad about this at all! And you can't make me! When there are people walking, I go slowly and pass with warning and room. When there aren't people, I go a little faster. But in both cases, it's totally legal and once again, I'm totally fine with riding on the sidewalk. Part of the reason I ride a bicycle is to not be held hostage by car traffic. So I don't hold myself hostage to car traffic. I ride around it and will use the sidewalk [where legal and always politely] where need be. And it's great and I would recommend that you do it too! Please feel free to tell me in the comments how I'm history's greatest monster)

R Street to Safeway: mostly ok!

Safeway to Whitehaven: ok provided that someone doesn't zoom past you and cut you off with a right turn!

Whitehaven to Calvert: pretty darn ok for the most part! It will vary depending on the car parking situation and the road work situation.

Calvert to where the right lane turns into car parking: probably the least ok on account of the steepness and the drivers trying to pass other drivers on the right. Today, I had the distinct pleasure of trying to keep pace with a guy on a time trial bike up this part of the hill. I almost did! (read: did not). But I tried! (read: kind of). When he passed me before Calvert, he said "hey now." I still don't know what to make of that. I almost stayed on his wheel until where the car parking started, then the light at Edmunds turned red and I will never ever pedal harder than I absolutely have to to get to a red light and that's where he opened up a nice big gap and I was like "seeya, dude" and then he stayed well out in front for rest of the way and I was ok with that.

Edmunds to Massachusetts: ok if you don't mind riding in the door zone!

I turned down Mass and saw the time trial bike guy and pondered the idea of giving chase, but I was thoroughly beat and such an exercise would have been thoroughly pointless. Take that, stranger! I was able to bicycle at a speed that closed the gap between us from very far to not as far! Where is my laurel? There is no laurel.