Yesterday was three years since we actually sold the car and took up legs and transit and trains to get where we need to go.  I’m probably not much thinner and don’t really have a ton of money saved (I made more money as a grad student than I do as a VISTA), but I’m much happier.

I feel like I should have some reflections on being carfree, but I’m too tired to think of much.  Like how you avoid the guilt that one of my neighbors told me about this morning, of driving everyday alone.  Or how you really do see more of your city and meet more people and stay in at least slightly better physical shape.  Or how you should try it.

But it’s hard to really try being carfree.  We decided to sell our car a few weeks before we actually handed over the keys and $6,600 to a Saturn dealer — because Thanksgiving was coming, and we were on the way to Baltimore, and we couldn’t meet with the car guy to sell it until we got back.  So we had time to get used to the idea.  How will I get here?  Should I stock up on stuff because I don’t get there as often?  If I still owned a car, I don’t think I’d be able to think very creatively about transportation and fun because the four wheels would always be there to make that commute quicker or that trip a little more comfortable.  That could certainly be my own weakness speaking, but it’s like imagining what it’s like to be a vegetarian.  Until you’re faced with what to eat at a steakhouse you go to with a family member (and when, like the car  in the garage, you could just eat the meat), there are alternatives that are fun and alternatives which are just unpleasant that are hard to imagine unless you have to.  It’s not a matter of weakness or strength or ethics.  It’s hard to imagine the tight spot that vegetarianism and being carfree can each be unless you’re in it.

I’m certainly not trying to get preachy or anything.  Even with the rise of cycling as transportation, I don’t actually know anyone in my family or circle of friends who is intentionally carfree.  I do know some car-light folks who cycle as much as possible, and that’s more awesome than I can say.  But there’s still the car when you “need” it and the difficulty in imagining being very carfree.  I know people without a car because of money or a lack of license.  But swearing off the auto is hard business. I think I’m stubborn enough to be able to stick with it, that stubbornness being a weakness dressed up like a strength in this instance.  But there are definitely times when a car would make some things easier.  With the way things are laid out and constructed around cars in the US, this is bound to be true.  I’m not saying that we don’t live in a great country; nor am I judging it.  But the US is arranged around cars for the most part, and that’s not just my opinion.  Look around, or read up on what smarter folks have written about it.

In the end, though, cycling, walking and transit make a boring trip a mega-fun adventure.  Going to The Charles to see a movie is a pain in the ass if you drive.  If you cycle from North Baltimore, it’s a fun ride, and the theater is warm and inviting.  Imagine grocery shopping without ever having to look for or fight for a parking place.  Being able to lock your bike right by the door at work.  The cool looks you get when you go to a dinner party or a wedding and tell people you rode there on a bike or walked.

All possible without a car.

[More BIKE LIFE photos.]

[If you think cars are the best thing ever and want everyone to have one, you should direct your energies toward a blog on that topic (I'll read it), rather than wasting it on trolling comments that won't get published.  Just sayin.]

And I met another cyclist in the church basement at the community meeting Monday who wears the reflective ankle straps I wear to keep my pants out of my chainrings.  I told him I was glad to not be the only one to have them, and we talked about favorite jeans ruined by chainrings and chains.  I also became less anal about wear-and-tear on my bike yesterday, through realizing that getting upset about a new scratch on my fork blade, when there are dozens all over my bike and that it had some from the shop anyway, is just stupid.

Either deal with it, or hate my bike and never ride.  Never ride?  F@#$ that.

And I finally have shoes on!  I realize there are people at work who have never ever seen me in shoes.  This is funny.  The purchase process was almost too good to be true, for someone who doesn’t wear leather but doesn’t want to drop $150 on shoes either.  First place I looked, got em.  Very nice price, too, with free shipping to boot.  Picked up my package at someone else’s house, strapped a large box to my bike (bought two sizes to try) and rode home in rush hour.  It was awesome.

But I don’t want to portray myself as a constant consumer, at least not of anything but notebooks, coffee/tea and bike innertubes.

It also reminds me that, this time five years ago, I was speeding (literally, doing like 90 mph because I was an idiot) toward Baltimore to get married. Regardless of how the wedding actually went (what, with certain family members who — admittedly — tried to ruin it because they didn’t like our style and our refusals of their suggestions), October 4th is my favorite day. And regardless of the stressful, infuriating, quick event our wedding was, October 4th was also the day that we got together, back in 1997.

So while people keep asking me how many years October 4th makes, I qualify my answer that it’s eleven for me. My wedding was not when I was committed. It was not even when I was publicly committed. It didn’t change how I feel about my wife at all. Nothing can.

Photo Friday: Spontaneous.

It’s a bee-otch. I have been having a lot of tire trouble lately. Or, maybe, I’m just riding more and getting more flats. I officially blame the Jones Falls Trail, particularly the part under the Howard Street bridge. Of my recent flats, three were caused by glass from right there. And after my recent adventures, I’m rocking Kevlar-belted tires. That didn’t help yesterday when three huge slivers of glass that looked like quartz stems stabbed my tire. I came out from work and suspected someone was messing with my lock and noticed my rear flat. I didn’t feel like patching, so I put my spare tube on. Those tires are pain to get back on, so it took a bit for me to figure out the trick. I was running low on air, so I stopped to put some air in when I got to the trail and realized why: busted valve stem. While I was examining this, some dickhead wizzed by me on his bike without a word, bell, etc. (I hope your trunk bag fell in some mud, wanker.)

What’s up with the rude cyclists lately? Are they pissed that they have to ride because of gas prices or something? I mean, I love the greater number of cyclists. But there was a time when most of the people I passed greeted me back or even first. You know: last year!

Anyway, I went to some shade to patch my tube after taking off this new and busted tube. Some old guy came over and silently watched my work. Told me I have a nice bike. That I should get some tire strips and that I would have payed less for my bike at the bike shop he likes. I didn’t feel like getting into how tire strips rub and then cause flats, how the price of my bike did not differ (in fact) from the different Giant dealers in the Baltimore area in October 2006. I just finished, thanked him for his company with a handshake and went on my way.

I was stupid enough to try to plug the hole in my tire tread with rubber cement. Did a number on the rest of the rubber. I think it’s Okay for a while. But I patched the inside of the tire, ordered two spare tires and some more spare tubes — just in case. Overhauled my brakes last night, too. Replaced my front pads, which were doing a number to my rims. Poor things.

I rode a different way to work this morning, avoiding my usually sylvan ride in favor of riding through traffic the whole way. In some respects, I like it better. Though I’m probably upping my chances of getting hit. When I was on the Maryland Avenue bride this morning, I turned around and saw four other cyclists riding to work and school. Five bikes on that little bridge at once!

Biking in Baltimore is coming around.

Now I can take all my crap to work without getting sweaty. Plus, I wonder what effect it is having on potential thieves. It’s not all that cool looking, unless you’re a Fred. But it’s awesome just the same. A family member saw me riding home one day and identified me by that big red red red crate.  And it’s a great canvas for stickers, which adorn it currently.

Dan’s awesome backpack he’s taken everywhere, even to the hospital when his adorable daughter was born, with a Czech army bag I bought in Philly two weeks ago.  I might need to rethink my baggage for going to work.  Rainy days where I need to bring clothes and my big Klean Kanteen require a second bag, which is a pain.

At first I was disappointed because I went upstairs looking at art books, in which I have very little interest. But then I found the fiction section and had to hold myself back. After a long time browsing, a heavy hand basket, the traveler’s activity of buying T-shirts that don’t make you look like a tourist, we paid our large bill and left. My formula for knowing if you spent too much money at the bookstore: If you leave more (usually twice as much) in cost on the shelves/tables than you actually purchase, you’re not spending too much money. I mean, in that case, with that formula, I don’t think I could ever spend too much money at The Strand. I could list all the books we bought there, but they’re in a pile with all the books we bought in Boston, too.

We bought Cokes and sat in Washington Square Park, after a short rainstorm from which we hid under the shelter outside The Strand.  The arch and fountain were surrounded by fencing because they were being worked on.  We dried off a green bench with a hanky we found in a backpack, since I was closely-budgeted on my pocket hanky.

We walked around for a long time, checked out some stationery stores, etc.  We came back the next day, walking all the way from 81st Street.  We walked around a lot and hit the park to chill.  This time, there were more people around, and there were tables with people gathering to sing, play guitar and bang on drums as the sun was going down.  I didn’t want to go when it came to be time to walk back to Penn Station to catch our late train to Baltimore.

Now we have a huge stack for late summer and early fall reading, from New York and Boston.  I’m very stoked to dig in.  Oh, and I scored my new Moleskine at The Strand for $9.  Sweet:)

We walked everywhere this week.  All over the Inner Harbor/downtown Baltimore Tuesday.  We walked to Walden Pond.  Walked all around Boston, only taking the subway when rivers were involved (Quincy and Cambridge) and the train to Concord.  Walked so much all over New York for two days that I should get to be on TV.  We only got on the MTA subway once, to go from the garment district to the Natural History museum to save energy.  Then from there through the park, through midtown, all the way to the village.  Then back to midtown for our late train.  That was after two walks from midtown to and around and through the village the day before.

Only one twisted ankle, one twisted foot (on the way out of the apartment and to the train station) and one broken/bleeding toenail.  Not bad.  I did a much better job of staying hydrated than I usually do when I travel, too, which is good.  I’m not sitting here suffering through a mock hangover.

And we were smart enough to mail home the books we bought in Cambridge, dirty clothes and Walden Pond goodies/gifts from the post office right near South Station, since we literally carried everything for four days.  We scored a lot of good reading, including two by my favorite other worshipper at the altar of the god of walkers.  I’m stocked up until the cold comes, I think.

I hope I get time to post some photos soon.  We had a great time, and I’m outta here again from Tuesday until Friday for “business” in Philly.  I think I’ll get some freetime while I’m there, though, to explore a place I’ve really been wanting to go for a while.

This weird face-like thing was on my cutting board after I cut up a bunch of stuff a few weeks ago. Probably a stir-fry. Salsa would have left it wetter.  It kind of creeped me out.  But the randomness was, to sound corny, beautiful at the same time.

Photo Friday: Beauty.

See, Mrs. P. tried baking soda under her arms last week.  She didn’t tell me until two days later, when she developed chaffing.  Turns out that she didn’t use water and instead let something akin to fine sand rub under her arms.

Mixing with water produced better results.

And I don’t stink.  The expensive so-so stuff I was using be gone.  Turns out that company is gettin sued for basically lying anyway.  (More on that later.)  That salt stuff always worked great for me.  But it took forever to put enough on, and I always broke the damned things.  Or, at least, sharpened them with my hairy pits.

Today, I made a paste of water and baking soda, rubbed that smell-less stuff under the old arms.  Didn’t stink when I sweat.  Didn’t stain my shirt.  Didn’t smell like anything at all.

And I don’t stink!