Ride In 4/4: Trees, Shirt, Cheese

It's odd to be tailgated from almost the exact moment you lift your bike from the sidewalk to the street, especially on a residential street like mine where there's pretty much nothing special in any direction that would draw car traffic, except for maybe the Armory and the nunnery (Between Armory and Nunnery is my yet-to-written novel about Jean D'Arc) and there's a school around the corner where people might be dropping off their kids. But you don't have to be on a big fancy street to have a car drive within a few feet off your back wheel, in a way that would be menacing if I wasn't so sure that it was completely without malice. It was just unthinking. It lasted a block and then it was over.
The tailgating proved distraction to my other morning woe, the morning woe concerning my morning joe, which normally rests in its mug in a duct-taped water bottle cage. For whatever reason (witchcraft is always my go-to reason, but it could really be anything), the mug refused to rest upright and titled leftward, brushing against my bare calf (not my bear calf, an evil Moreau-ian hybrid), which was mildly annoying with each pedal. I examined the cage as I pedaled along and it might have been slightly off-kilter, but I didn't really know what to do about it and I definitely didn't know which steps would require little effort and no stopping. Eventually, after fiddling around with the mug for a few more blocks, I decided that I'd just put it in my bag and that's what I did, much to my continued disappointment at each subsequent stop where I'd normally sip some coffee. How do people pass time at red lights without drinking coffee? What do you do with your hands?
Is bike polo a legal activity for the area around the Capitol? I know that some guys sometimes (or used to) play roller hockey by the White House, so maybe some wheeled recreation could take place by the legislature. Checks and balances and stuff. I know very little about bike polo (can horses even ride bikes? would they ride tandems since they have four legs?), but I assume that it needs a large, flat, empty surface and the front (east) of the Capitol certainly meets the criteria. And what a better way to edcuate middle school students about getting the hell out of the way or being hit with a mallet? Solutions!
I need to start paying better attention to the other bicyclists around me. Not because I'm bumping into them or anything, but because I feel like I'm missing key details about the composition of the bike commuting community and thereby cannot convey them to you, my dedicated nine readers. I haven't noticed too much in the way of "trends," except maybe the amplification in numbers of all of the types of bicyclists that had previously existed, except for "hipsters on fixies" (broadly understood) who appear to be holding steady or maybe in decline. There's been a minor increase in people riding in workout clothes without backpacks or racks or anything else, which makes me think that they're riding recreationally during commuting times, which always throws me off.
A bike lane isn't wide enough for two cyclists to ride next to each other. It's also not wide enough confines for passing another cyclists. These aren't opinions.
Maybe 12 bicyclists at the intersection of Mass and 15th from the other direction and me and another woman who had just squeezed past me on the left at the red at the previous intersection. Did our numerical superiority stop 4 inconsiderate drivers from blocking the intersection? What do you think? It's frustrating. We need enforcement and we need better engineering, but we also need an attitude shift.
Bike brakes can make weird noises. Some guy's CaBi made one of the worst noises I've ever heard. It was the sound of a broken toaster in a broken blender in a microwave dropped from a helicopter. More or less. It was horrendous and I hope he pressed the "wrench" button when he docked. That button, contrary to popular belief, doesn't dispense your very own complementary wrench, but instead notifies Bikeshare that the bike is in trouble.
DC election round-up: we blew it.
Some pedestrians treat paths like some cyclists treat streets: like they're trying to prove a point. Proving points is fine, but I'm just trying to get to where I'm going, like pretty much everyone else and I'd really appreciate any degree of accommodation with the understanding that I'll do as much in turn. You know, just in case that one guy who really, really didn't even want to move over slightly is reading this. I think he had a mustache. You'd figure that the mustachioed would have a greater amount of empathy, but that's not always the case.
It can be pretty disheartening when you ride past someone on a hill, especially near the top. It's happened to me and it's deflating, so that's why I try not to do it to others. Unless they have mustaches, in which all bets are off (See? That one guy totally ruined it for everyone else). The problem is that if you're not passing someone, you're just lollygagging behind them and that also could make someone feel self-conscious and deflated. So, in conclusion, drive to work. Just kidding! I don't really have a solution though. Maybe just avoid getting too close to the person in front of you.
I picked up about 7 copies of the Washington City Paper at the box across from the driveway to the parking garage where I lock my bike. I didn't put them in my bag, but just sort of carried them resting them atop my handlebars and then I was the crazy newspaper bike guy that one of my colleagues seemed to try really hard to avoid. There's some "best of" decoupage in my future.

Ride In 4/3 and Ride Home 4/3: Call of (Civic) Duty is a less exciting video game

It's the first tuesday after the first Monday is the fourth month of the 12th year after the 2000th year of, give or take, some a Jewish dude getting killed by some Roman dudes (My children's bible was written by a rather irreverent surfer) and that means that today was primary election day, or if you're a Democrat in DC, real election day. So I set off this morning, pollward, and biked to a nearby elementary school to nostrify some candidates (BO, EHN) and to decides from the two mostly viable non-Vincent Orange alternatives for the at-large seat on the DC Council. I went with Shapiro and I hope that he wins, or barring that, doesn't prevent Biddle from losing. It's not that I don't like Vincent Orange (his name reminds me a Clue character!), but it's not like I like him either. Actually, it is sort of that I don't like him, but don't tell him because he's still got that seat open on the DC Bicycle Advisory Committee and I wouldn't want to ruin my chances of someday being appointed...
The elementary school lacked bike parking, so I locked up to a fence, inside the "no electioneering" zone. That way it avoided getting covered in flyers or being "John Galt-ed" by some overzealous and larcenous Paulites. After casting my hopefully not hopeless vote, it was a quick trip a block up 15th before recommencing the regular route for the morning ride, which by in large, proved regular.
It was a glorious springtime morning, in spite of the continued cold. Bicyclists were everywhere and I was happy about it. For the most part. I worry about writing the next few sentences because I was going to write "How does one say this without sounding paternalistic?" but then I realized that there's no non-paternalistic way to even pose that question, so instead I'll just slide into a story about younger siblings, of which I have one. Her name is Wanda and she's a "professional" fortune teller in rural Pennsylvania*. Anyway, you know how when you're a kid and you're used to having your own room, but then your parents have another kid and you have to share and you're all like "hey, sibling, I love you and stuff, but I remember when I had my own room and it was kind of awesome." Well, it's sort of like that. I couldn't be happier about the number of people who are taking to bikes as their means of commuting. Really- I can't. There's an actual restraining order, from a judge and everything. But it's just sort of crowded now and it's hard to share mom & dad (aka the limited bike infrastructure in town). I just need to get over it.
*factual details concerning my sibling might have been changed for the purpose of telling a good story. I'm the Mike Daisey of bike bloggers.
In each group of six bike commuters stopped at a red light along 15th, there's always at least one of each of these kinds of people:

• The Gunner: You know, that guy who's gonna get to the front because THAT'S WHERE HE BELONGS because he's LIGHTNING FAST, even if he isn't. And he'll jump the light in order to prove it. 
• The Ignorer: He or she won't look at you or won't look at anyone. None of you are there. You might as well not even be there.
• The Wobbler: It's a shaky start for the wobbler and when the light turns, you better give plenty of room. It's not that he's bad at bicycling; it's just that being surrounded by so many people makes him nervous. 
• The Sigh-er: You know, the person who recognizes that she's in a group of people but would rather not be because it's sort of annoying and dealing with the Wobbler and the Ignorer and the Gunner is just not what he signed up for. 

There were bunches of bunches along 15th today and there are only going to more as it gets warmer. One of the people heading in the opposite direction, I think, said "sharrows" as he passed me in, what I presumed at the time but would be sorry if I mispresumed, was a "funny" voice. Thanks for the shout out, dude. Sorry I didn't know who you were/insinuated you had a funny voice. It sounded Framptonesque. 

There might as well be a bike speed limit in bike lanes. Go to fast and you'll end up riding into a pedestrian who misjudges your speed. Every day on R street it seems like it's going to happen and not because I'm really going that fast. 

Some exciting developments in campaign signs: there were homemade spray painted Ron Paul signs along Massachusetts. There's also something called a "Mitt Romney" running for President. Either that, or someone with a WASP Plutocrat random name generator has way too much money to spend on signs. And theres Terri Galvez, who is represented by a pink elephant. And someone else named Kabel, maybe, who made me think of Battlestar Galactica (Lords of Kobol and whatnot) and also a person named Jill Homan, who I thought was Bill Homan, who brought to mind Balint Homan, well-known (haha) Magyar politician, intellectual and author, so I'd vote for her, were I allowed to vote for members of Republican National Committee. 

Then the work day happened. My working resembles my blogging, in that I do much of it at a computer. And then the day ended and it was time to bike home, which I really wanted to be enjoyable. It was ok, but made markedly worse by a burning throat and scratchy eyes, the result of some sort of terrible pollen/ragweed/dander/toxic fumes and it was fairly miserable for a little while. I'm not normally felled by allergies, but this stunk.

I passed the polling place at a church on Mass. Ward 3 voters, based on my cursory view, tend to be old and white. I am a politics and demography expert. 

The people biking up Mass in the afternoon seem so much more interesting that the people on the same route in the morning. How can this be? Perhaps my bar is lowered. Or maybe, the "suffering" of the incline brings out a more interesting aspect of their true character. Or none of those things. 

I'm going to quit Q Street. I prefer not to render the details of the minor slights and annoyances that befell me and the rather major (comparatively) delay caused by a large moving truck. I much prefer to render bacon. 

No one passed me on Pennsylvania, but I suspected that a few bicyclists behind me considered it. They were more than welcome. It's just that they wouldn't have gotten anywhere any faster since the lights and traffic would pretty much preclude it. 

Yesterday evening, I followed a guy up Capitol Hill and he grunted a good deal, perhaps because he was on a fixed gear bicycle. I'd never like to hear that again, so I'm considering taking up a collection to buy him a new bike. Occasionally, when I want my bike to go faster, I go "hup hup hup" the way I imagine Lawrence of Arabia might have suggested as much to his camel. Much like Lawrence of Arabia and Dick Van Dyke, I have a tremendous problem with Ottomans. Ataturk 4-eva. 

East Capitol and Kentucky brought me to the grocery store and I loaded up on the usual things I buy at the grocery store and biked them home. I derive a great amount of joy from biking home my groceries, in no small part from the annoyingness of getting them home any other way. Who wants to surrender a prime parking spot or pay for $4/gallon gas just for some cantaloupe? Even if I didn't bike to work, I'd still bike to the store. 

New buttons are here. More details to come. 

Will Find More To Say About This Morning If I Write About It This Evening

Work! Census records! Other stuff! Everything got in the way of my finding time to write my morning ride during the day, so I'll write the "there and back again" post tonight.

Guest Post: Becky's trek isn't a bicycle

The fundamental conceit (and I mean conceit) of this blog is my daily writing about my bicycle commute. And that's fine. But not everyone commutes by bicycle (for some unexplained reason. That's a joke. I'm not actually that smug). Some people get around through a bipedalism of a different sort, namely walking. So, tonight, while I'm at the batting cage taking a few extra practice swings to prepare for opening day, I present for you, with limited commercial interruption and a Laura Linney-free introduction, a tale from the sidewalks. Many thanks to Becky, guest-poster and all around walking superstar. 


Brian asked for guest posters for this here blog, and I don't bike, but I'm totally a groupie. So like a three year old I begged to be allowed to share my ride, which happens on two feet and doesn't involve wheels at all. And Brian said yes, even without a promise of corn chips!

I don't know how Brian remembers all the details from his rides. I had to take notes on my commute-to-be-written-about, and there's no way I could have done that on a bike. Or a trike, or in a car, or on roller skates. You can't get to heaven on roller skates. Unfortunately I'd forgotten to plug my phone in until late in the day, so I had only half the battery available. Fortunately for you, though, because I had to ration my note-taking.

So. On to my commute.

My commute is basically the middle of Brian's, in the reverse direction, if he were to take Massachusetts the whole way instead of doing the safe and sane thing and riding where there are bike lanes. When I walk, which is less frequently than it should be, I usually do it in the morning, to work, rather than in the evening to home. This is for one critical reason: it's a downhill walk to work, and an uphill walk home.

I checked. The altitude difference over the 2.6 miles is a tremendous 32.2 feet. I'm surprised I don't get altitude sickness.

Nevertheless, the commute I am telling you about was a walk home. I started off by early voting. Working in Judiciary Square has its drawbacks (the main one being that Dunkin Donuts is an entire Metro stop away--when are they going to build a Dunkin Donuts IN MY OFFICE?) but being in the same building as early voting is one of the more convenient things I've ever been gifted with.

A walk north on 4th Street, where I was reminded yet again that I really ought to go to the Building Museum some time. I've lived in DC for eight and a half years and have never been. It would probably help if I weren't so lazy.

At H, I accidentally got in the way of a cyclist. I was engrossed in my phone (reason, not excuse) but he was on the sidewalk and not wearing a helmet, both of which put him in the category of pedestrian-on-wheels. Do other people categorize cyclists as either pedestrians or drivers based on whether they look like they know what they're doing on a bicycle? Anyway, it was totally my fault that I got in the poor guy's way, but I maintain that it was just negligence and not anti-cyclist bias.

And then up Massachusetts. Holy headwind. The wind literally blew my necklace around my neck. Crazy. Something bad requiring four police cars and two ambulances at 6th Street. I hope everyone was okay. The driver in the red pick up truck who ran the red light in front of all those cops was okay.

The problem with living on the western side of the city? My commute to work has the sun in my eyes, and the commute home has the sun in my eyes. My sunglasses live in my car. Not. Helpful. (Sunglasses also weren't helpful two jobs ago when my commute involved driving on U/Florida from 19th NW to 4th NE.)

Mt. Vernon Square. When I'm walking to work, the lights are timed such that it makes more sense to walk around it. Walking home, I walk through. I cross across the grass. I feel guilty doing so; is that normal or a symptom of my excessive guilt complex? I try only to do so where the grass is already dead from people walking across it.


Some cute dogs. Also some not-so-cute dogs. Don't tell their owners I said that.

Lots of leaves. Spring is springing!

Thomas Circle. If I had the time, and the stopwatch, and some combination of unattainable conditions, I would do a study to see whether it makes more sense to walk around Thomas Circle or through it. What it doesn't make sense to do, in my ever-so-humble opinion, is to ride through the circle, taking a lane (that part is fine, taking a lane), not wearing a helmet, as I witnessed as I was walking. Not as un-sensible as doing the same thing in Washington Circle. Another cyclist was on foot crossing the circle with me; he was carrying his helmet and headed toward the bikeshare station. The crosswalk on the east side of the circle allows 30 seconds for pedestrians; the crosswalk on the west allows only 16. I don't pretend to know anything about traffic engineering, but that just doesn't make sense to me.

This was just about where I realized that the lights are timed much better for a person walking at exactly my pace walking west on Massachusetts than they are for a person walking at exactly my pace walking east on Massachusetts.

I almost met with tragedy between 15th and 16th. Well, not me so much as my water bottle. And not so much "almost met with" as I heard something that could have been my water bottle falling out of one of the water bottle pockets of my backpack. But I checked and my water bottle was safe inside the main section of my backpack, which was zipped up for safety. And so that nothing would fall out of it. Which my water bottle hadn't.

Passing the Chilean Embassy I was reminded that I need to make it down to the Natural History museum. There is an exhibit about the rescue of the miners. The crazy thing about this is that I've been to the Natural History museum TWICE while the exhibit has been there, but still haven't seen the exhibit. A public service announcement based on the first of those two trips: Smithsonian gift shops don't sell gift certificates. I probably should have called first.

At 19th, a cyclist without a helmet shoaled a cyclist with, then proceeded to stop, sort of, in the crosswalk. Really he did that v e r y s l o w try-not-to-stop-or-fall-off riding manuever. And in tapping this out on my phone, an appropriate typo: "ahoaled."

Dupont Circle. A bit of a traffic jam on the east side of the circle, a musician playing for tuition money (or so said his sign), idiots crossing the street against the light without looking to see that there were in fact cars coming, and the delicious aroma of hamburgers. I love hamburgers. One of these days I'm going to smell those hamburgers and snap. By snap, I mean I'll abandon my plans for dinner and go to the only kosher restaurant in the city that isn't in a lobby and pay $10 for a mediocre hamburger, and then be disappointed.

The Society of the Cincinnati has new signs proclaiming that it's a museum.

Finally, my last observation: I didn't witness any cabs do anything crazy! (Which is more than I can say for Sunday, when I watched a cab stop at a red light, determine no cars were coming, and then turn left. On red. At a four way intersection.)

Ride In 4/2: The Great Moravian State Didn't Exist

I didn't post anything special on the blog for April Fools' Day because when it comes to that holiday, I'm something of a traditionalist. I gather round family around the fool log, sing fools' day carols (Amiably Prankish King Wenceslaus is my favorite), read the funniest, jokey articles in the local newspaper and feast on the traditional Fools' Day feast of stale bread covered in almond butter and room temperature Diet Pepsi. Bill O'Reilly and I are coauthoring a graphic novel about the War on Fools' Day, but we haven't quite gotten around to meeting yet, with his being a famous media personality and my being a stale bread-eating recluse. But with Fools' Day over and the fool ornaments down from the Fools' sapling (which was composted in a hilarious way), it was back to normal today and normal means the unfoolish task of riding a bicycle to work.

It was cold and I wore gloves and wool socks. Spring sprung in January, but it's since receded, supplanted by an autumn of bluster, misplaced and anachronistic. It hardly deterred bicycling, mine or that of others, and there might have been more people on the road today than any time since October. I tried to do my best to cover my look of fatigued exasperation, because really I'm much happier about the amount of people bicycling than my visage suggests. Really, I am. It's just that, and I don't really know another way to put it, I wish that maybe the norms of bicycling in the city were less "I'm a rugged individualist and I'm make my own way at my own pace come hell or high water or a bicyclist in the other direction" and more "I'm a drone on a bike, which isn't to say that I'm not having fun, but I'm pretty content to follow some basic behavioral restraints and not do things like ride on the wrong side of the cycle track or pass someone on the right." The amount of bike infrastructure the city has can only handle so many rugged individualists. 

And while I'm in the meek complaining section of the post (when I get the Sunday Post, I always read the Meek Complaining section after Sports and Local), I can't say I'm particular thrilled about the scowls that I'm getting from the pedestrians I've encountered lately. I used to think it was bad when they looked right through me and pretended I wasn't there. Now, we've entered a weird new phrase where I get these looks that are like "how dare you be on a bike in the street! don't you know there are people driving and walking here!" Maybe I'm just being oversensitive or delusional or both. It wouldn't be the first time- my imaginary therapist was an imaginary giant bunny. He suggested that I see someone else. 

I rode through the security bollards at the White House and this convinced bicyclists heading in the opposite direction that they should do the same. It'd be nice if there was a sign that read "Bicycles=Cool" or something to that effect. A lot of bicyclists tend to alter their behavior based on the signaling of other bicyclists, so if I ride through, that normally prompts someone coming in the other direction to do the same. But I can't spend all day riding through the security bollards (that might be suspicious), so a sign would be useful

I saw the license plate CU1EBAY. Still trying to figure that out. Is it "See you on eBay"? Or "Cue 1 eBay"? Because even if that's it, which is a series of discernible English language words, I'm still not sure that means anything. I guess indecipherability is the height of vanity with vanity plates. 

And now, for something completely different: a shocking twist! It's an unannounced guest post within a humdrum regular post! I present you, from friends of blog Oddman and Down-on-the-farm (not their real names), a total game-changer wherein they flip the script and they ride my ride! Enjoy. 

Riding the Blogger’s Ride

The author of this blog [Ed note: me], since his move to DC, has written tales from his many varied routes to and from work; I became curious on why any one route would be chosen though the beautiful but congested city of DC over another. My choices would be safety and speed, so looked on Gmaps and Google Earth, and created a route that includes mostly bike lanes that avoid the major traffic areas. Oh, also, with as little hills as possible, knowing there has to be a climb somewhere (I have been known in DC riding circles as having a pathological need for avoidance of hills).

So, on a cool but dry Saturday, fellow TFTS reader “down-on-the-farm” and I took the 5A bus from Herndon to 7th and D SW , and began riding towards 15th and A SE to start the route. Great ride, but long story short, I think I chose the slowest route with the steepest hills! But, fun anyway and safe.

Once off the bus, we rode around St. Dominics Church to take 7th to I. One thing I noticed is that DC has so many beautiful churches with great architecture and steeples (well, except for Metropolitan Memorial near AU – wonderful tall buttress-style with slate roof, and they put a horrendous yellow stucco addition onto it. So, how about adding some more Baltimore schist already?).

I Street SE has always been a favorite of mine for travelling between 7th St SW and New Jersey Ave, straight with a bike lane and seemingly little traffic. Crossing under the SE Freeway to E trying and continuing east to get to 15th, the DC quadrant thingy got me confused, and I was trying to go south to get to A. Oops. Fortunately, Bob had a better DC-sense, and turned us around before I got us too lost, and we got to our starting point.

North on 15th, W on C, N on 6th SE, W on K to cross into NW to 5th St NW, N to R and then W on R. Pretty uneventful; really nice neighborhoods, bikelanes all the way and respectful drivers. (Perhaps it was because it was a Saturday afternoon?) We were just cruising, but I would think that a dedicated commuter clipped in could make really good speed through here, safely, and barely stopping if the lights are timed right. We got through 3 or 4 easily before having to stop (but oh thank goodness for the stops – us geezers need the rest). Not too many bike sights on this section to report, but saw 2 fantastic classic Buick Rivieras- one a gorgeous 66 with the hidden headlights and a 72 boattail. My dreamcars when I first got my license.

R street has a nice bike lane, but I think it crosses too many major routes with long traffic lights to make good time for a commuter. Great architecture, though and oddly named rooming houses: the Chastleton (what, misspelled Charleston somewhere along the way, or already was a “Charleston”); The Rodney (so what’s next, The Sam, The Beulah? My twin aunts’ names were Doma and Oma [yes, I grew up in West Virginia] – how about “I live at the Doma and Oma”). This section gave me a bike-related observation. We came up to one young miss on the narrow Q street with bike lane, and she was riding slowly. Having learning societal rules from TFTS that passing isn’t always polite, I slowed down. Gads, she was talking on her phone all the way! Bike, Camry, I guess it doesn’t matter, paying more attention to the call than the ride. Also, she was riding oddly; I watch the super-racers ride on the W&OD, and the faster ones seem to have their legs close to the frame - this young lady was riding with her knees so close together I thought she was practicing the Republican-approved method of birth control.

We rode R to Mass, turned south at Sheridan Circle for a block and turned west on Q, taking the Buffalo Bridge over Rock Creek Park and then continuing up Q to 28th St NW. When we crossed the bridge, we stopped so I could be in awe of the height. I love this town. I wonder if I qualify for the Georgetown Retirement Residence right by there? Up Q a little climb until a steep climb at 28th, connecting to a long climb on R again. Did I say “climb” enough times (and even more to come)? Three nice parks and the old cemetery in a row on R and such a genteel street. I saw one fellow standing in a parking spot near Dumbarton Oaks, saving a space for his party’s car.

Crossed Wisconsin and then N on 37th, more climbing to Tunlaw – about gave up there but “in a for a penny, in for a pound”. Dangerous intersection here as all northbound traffic has to veer left across the path of any southbound traffic, and they didn’t want to slow down. More up hill on Tunlaw, and then it veers left and plunges. Normally, a downhill is a relief, but I already knew that another climb was in store at New Mexico and I didn’t want to see that. New Mexico, up, and up and more up. Signs say “AU - .8 miles; AU .4 miles”, and then at the crest a parking lot. Saw a lost soccer ball slowly rolling down the hill, almost got caught up in a grassy triangle but kept rolling down until a pedestrian stopped it.

Finally at AU, Bob and I looked for a Student Union or a coffee shop. A couple of kids (I mean, students) gave me direction; I noticed they eyed the TFTS button [Ed. note: more available soon!] I have on the front of the bike. Great coffee shop with great espresso and we sat viewing the beautiful quad.

So, how to get back? I thought down Foxhall might be OK, but Bob thought it might not be all downhill, and we didn’t want any more climbs, so we went to Wisconsin to speed down to the Potomac. This was real easy, and Bob observed that, except for the rush-hour traffic being a possible problem, the climb up Wisconsin to AU would be a lot easier than the path I chose. Very little traffic down Wisconsin, weaving around parked cars, when OMG JAYWALKERS! Good thing we both have good brakes.

All downhill, cross M and down to the river, then east all the way to the monuments (Lincoln and Washington), to get back to the bus stop, the wind finally became cool. All-in-all, a fun and peaceful ride, with great sights and good company. I had fun on the climbs, and maybe should subdue my terrors of them (or, an A frame bike is better suited than a recumbent or a folder). I leave with the thought that commuting must be a lonely ride with no one to talk with on the way.