First commute treat!

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Yesterday, I took a [hybrid!] bus to work, with my floor pump in my backpack, my helmet in a box on my lap and my rear-mount kickstand. I put the stand on at lunch and was shaking with excitement and nervousness all day at the idea of getting to ride again. I mean, my last ride didn’t go so well. My wife had to work late, so we had dinner at the delicious Cafe’ Mocha near Penn Station after work, and then I set off to North Baltimore! I stopped by my parents’ house in Hampden to show off the new ride to my folks, my brother and my aunt and uncle — and to have a cream soda.
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Then I rode home, up Roland Avenue. At one intersection, I was behind another cyclist at the red light, and there was another gent coming from the opposite way — and it wasn’t even close to rush hour anymore. Being out of commission all spring and early summer, I missed the increase in ridership. The gentleman in front of me ran a red light I didn’t want to run after a block or two, so we parted ways. I rode around Evergreen, through Stony Run Park and back home, not really wanting to stop. I came home, took off my sweaty shirt and had some water with lemon in the lazer-etched bike pint glass I got for Valentine’s Day this year and watched “The Simpsons.”

Sweet first ride. Chromoly steel rides like a freakin dream, but I kept hearing something bell-like when I hit bumps. I think the rear brake cable was banging the toptube because the little rubber things weren’t on right (my fault). That steel literally rings. But it also could have been the dangerous thing I found when I got home. When I was installing my front fenders last week, I forgot to check that the stays were tightened at the dropout eyelets. Holy shit, that could have been disastrous!  Also completely my fault.

Rode to work this morning with the Mrs. — our first joint commute. I was completely drenched with sweat when I got here, and I wasn’t cycling hard this morning at all. I have to go back to a shoulder bag and away from my backpack. Thank God for the baby wipes and extra shirt I keep in my desk. I was a mess.

But I’m sitting here with my helmet on the AC vent, my new tires dirty and my bike begging me for 5:00.  I am very happy.

Three years carfree.


There I was this morning, meandering through wooded streets on my way to work in Central Baltimore.  The ground was wet and more filled with gravel than I thought it would be, so I was taking it slowly to avoid having to clean myself and my drivetrain later.  (My current fenders suck hard.)  My fingers were warmer than they should have been, and I was trying to remember why yesterday felt like an important date.

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.]

Photo Friday: White.

Two flat tires yesterday on my way home.


(I know; we have a bike blog. But I’ve been dominating the posting lately and have been neglecting this blog, so here you go.)

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.