The Commutant

80 Miles For Beer

2011-09-30T21:39:00.000-07:00

It was worth it. What a fantastic day!

Rolling into Hygiene, CO

Country Road

'Tis a Twisted Place, this Fort Fun

The Lineup

Hate The Drake

This guy was hilarious. After he furiously passed me down a hill, I shadowed him for about ten miles. When he saw me turn off, his double-take almost caused him to crash. Oh yeah, he's wearing a booger jacket too.

The sunset was pretty nice as well...

Motorcycle Ride

2011-09-27T12:40:00.000-07:00

About three hundred miles yesterday. The highest paved through road in the USA (12,183) Miner Pass (10,758), Willow Creek Pass (9,621), a dirt road shortcut from Rand to Gould and Cameron Pass (10,276). The Fall colors were popping and the best part of the ride was CO 125 from Granby to Rand due to the combination of colors and empty road that was charged hard. So fun.

Just a few pics...

2011-08-05T08:33:00.001-07:00

LA Law

2011-07-23T11:02:00.001-07:00

The City of Los Angeles has stepped up to the plate and hit one out of the park. The Los Angeles City Council just passed a new against harassing bicyclists (story). This groundbreaking ordinance is something that will hopefully be followed nationwide. Big props to the advocates in Los Angeles and the City Council for having the fortitude to pass such a law in the most car-centric metropolitan area in the United States.

Cruisin'

2011-07-13T07:28:00.000-07:00

Just to mix things up a little, I took a cruise on my Y2K Schwinn Cruiser Supreme on Monday.

Somehow I found myself heading up Left Hand Canyon.

Glendale Station and the big blue cruiser.

Cruising up Left Hand Canyon Road at about 8,000ft MSL.

Rolling into Ward, CO at 9,450ft MSL.

Dropping into Peaceful Valley...looks peaceful, doesn't it?

40.1402°N 105.4841°W

The bustling and newly repaved Riverside Drive in Raymond, Colorado.

No more pics because as I was pulling onto Lyons, a deluge struck and I was soaked to the skin. A stop at Oskar Blues' Chubway for a sammich and a beer fueled the rest of the trip back into Longmont.

'Sploring

2011-06-05T21:16:00.000-07:00

Finding new and interesting ways to get from A to B by bicycle is fun. A combination of roads and trails were used today with much success.

Rockies By Bicycle (sort of)

2011-05-30T11:04:00.000-07:00

Rebecca and I fonally got over to Denver to see a Rockies game. We drove down to Denver and parked a few miles from the ballpark and then rode in. Sure, it wasn't the old "ride to the Big A from my place" kind of spin, but the mileage was close. One of the best things about riding to Coors Field is the designated bicycle parking. They have a fenced area under a road ramp with numbered spaces and an attendant to log who is parking their bikes and in which space(s). With Denver already being really bike-friendly, this only adds to its niceties. As for the game, we were treated to a good old fashioned Rockies slugfest, with them racking up fifteen runs behind rookie Juan Nicasio's most excellent MLB debut on the mound.

Restoration by Bicycle

2011-05-23T12:07:00.000-07:00

I just finished restoring an old beat-up chest of drawers. all of the parts and materials needed for the job were feteched by bicycle. After finishing the job, I set out on two motorized wheels to relax a bit.

Fort Fun

2011-05-07T21:45:00.000-07:00

Today had been set aside for a solo adventure up in Fort Collins. A land shark tried to eat the Germo bike on a climb up a canyon, I had a co-pilot tray of really good beer at O'Dell, I made a new little friend in the form of a rescued pit bull, I had a couple more beers at O'Dell after having a humungoid burrito, then met my daughter and her b/f at Coopersmith where I got to enjoy a bourbon stout, buffalo burger and a rootbeer float. Coopersmith was also cool enough to have a vintage BSA track bike hanging on the wall as well.

The Good Side of The Divide

2011-05-02T09:39:00.000-07:00

Rebecca and I cruised over to the Grand Valley for a couple of days. Great friends, riding, beer and food!

The Germo

2011-04-17T12:57:00.000-07:00

It took a $40 CL score to replace my broken Orwellian Schwinn frame and now I have The Germo:

That 70's Show

2011-04-15T18:55:00.000-07:00

Rebecca and I took a pedal around Longmont this afternoon/evening. Our first stop was for food at Oskar Blues Homemade Liquids and Solids. The food was great and their Blackstrap Fever went well with lunch, as well as being a less than subtle reference to 70's Guitar Hero Ted Nugent's Cat Scratch Fever. The second stop was at Left Hand Brewing, where the flavor du jour for me was Starsky and Scotch, another 70's reference and really good Imperial Stout. The last beer stop was Oskar Blues Brewery's Tasty Weasel tasting room at the brewery, where the Firkin Friday special tapping was an outstanding and flavorful India Honey Ale. We stopped for a coffee fix and then the neighborhood Sushi Bar to top the day's adventure off. Well done...and we will be.

Cruisin Under the Moon

2011-04-08T19:20:00.000-07:00

This afternoon/evening was spent riding around, tasting a few local brews, making new friends and riding back home into the quarter Moon.

India Barleywine?

2011-03-30T16:05:00.000-07:00

O'Dell's has the good on it. Found after pedaling to my local beer store, that apparently gets all of the special releases from this particular brewery. Yay!

Parting Shots

2011-03-27T17:36:00.000-07:00

A few parting shots from SoCal.

From the bessing of the Animals in Riverside with Carrie and Tahoe, then Carrie and I went to the Lithuanian Festival in Los Feliz and then the Mission San Gabriel later that day:

Colorado

2011-03-13T08:49:00.000-07:00

We've moved! My daughter and I now live on Colorado's Front Range, North of the Denver Metro. I'll still get a chance to ride in a real uburban environment when tripping around in Denver, but it's mostly going to be suburban, small town, countryside and mountain road riding when out on skinny tires now. I've been commuting and it's just a matter of dressing right on those sub-30 degree mornings. I've only ventured out once for fun on skinny tires so far and learned that my lungs will need to do some catching up with my legs at around 5,000 feet above sea level. Yesterday was my first venture into the dirt out here and I got my butt thorougly kicked by my old friend Jon and his brother-in-law Christian. It was full of WIN, especially being able to open it up and hit truly high speeds on a singletrack once again. It's gonna be a stone groove, being back in the Centennial State.

Fixed Gear: Jumped The Shark?

2011-02-05T16:27:00.000-08:00

BikesnobNYC says the "fixie" thing has already jumped the shark. Sure, to some it has and I can see where they are coming from. Cycling seems to run in cycles, with one or more being popular for a while, then wane, become "cool" once again, and then proceed to jump the shark again for one reason or another. There are also regional issues to think of in this light. Where something may have already jumped the shark in NYC, it's not even heard of in Ottumwa, Iowa yet. Ottumwa may not be cool or hip, but there may be a few people there who might find what has passed elsewhere and have fun with it for a year or two before realizing it may be un-hip elsewhere. Then again, this is just about riding bicycles and having fun on a bicycle, isn't it? That will never jump the shark, no matter how many hipsters think it has become uncool. Ever since it was invented, the bicycle has been fun and sometimes even practical. Fun and practicality can never jump the shark.

Will any form cycling ever truly be "mainstream" in the USA? I don't think it'll happen in my lifetime because of the existing car culture and infrastructure that has been created over the years to accomodate it. There's no way in hell that millions of US Citizens will abandon their automobiles, get off of their lazy asses and ride a bicycle to get where they need to go. Sure, the "Lance Effect" and current fuel prices have driven more to human powered transportation and recreation, but the numbers are truly not enough to make being a "cyclist" mainstream USA. Aspects of cycling are subject to mainstreaming via the media in all of its glorious forms, however physical activity is becoming a more and more difficult sale in this country. Vicarious living through the media enables an appearance of mass participation, but the number of people actually in the thick of these activities doesn't tell the same tale.

Mountain biking is a fine example of cycling that the media has mainstreamed aggressively the past ten years. The current number of mountain bikes sold annualy in the USA is astronomical compared to when I first threw my leg over a Schwinn Sierra in 1986. Seeing another mountain biker on local SoCal trail 22 years ago was a rare event and even more rare in the true backcountry. Nowdays any easy trail close to populated areas seems to be falling in line comparatively with the traffic situation on the freeways here. However, the truly difficult backcountry trails in SoCal are just as uncrowded as they were in the 80's. No matter how extreeem, hip, or cool the media makes mountain biking look, most people who purchase a mountain bike will never take it on a truly difficult outing. Even if some do dare to adventure away from close in trails that have been "sanitized for your protection", most will not enjoy what they experience and not return. It's what the USA has become.

So, what does this mean for the fixed gear community in SoCal? My crystal ball can't predict what's going to happen. It may already be jumping the shark to some here, which is fine and also understandable. Everyone's perception of "cool" is different from each other and that my friends is what makes the round ball we are planted on go around. It all doesn't really matter though because most citizens of SoCal will never leave their cars. They might also be apt to shit a chicken if you were to suggest it's fun to ride a bicycle with only one gear and no brakes anywhere, let alone on city streets in traffic. There may end up being a perception of mainstream in riding fixed on the streets caused by our lovely friends in the media, but it will never truly be mainstream USA. Mainstream SoCal? As our naysaying friends in NYC might say, "FUGGEDABOUDIT!"

2011

2011-01-01T01:59:00.000-08:00

Another year is gone and I'm still alive. Someone tried their damndest the evening of December 30th, but my dummy avoidance radar detected them when decided to run a stop sign. There weren't a lot of miles racked up compared to past years, but there were some quality miles just the same.

What's in store for 2011? Right now the throes of a "harsh" SoCal Winter are upon us and OMIGOD, the night time temperature has dipped below 40F! Add that into my commutes being in the dark hours and the bicycle freeway is just about all mine. For now my 2011 will be about the moment and may there be many memorable ones.

Neglected

2010-06-25T04:31:00.001-07:00

With the exception of just commuting, my cycling has paralleled this blog in it's neglect. With what seems like an ever-expanding (albiet slowly) 40-something mangut, that neglect now must end. Maybe if I cancelled Netflix's highly addictive (to me anyways) Watch It Now,that could help as well. Nahhh, it's all about managing time better and making that time to ride in the mornings or afternoons. It's time for the seriouszzz roadieszzz to get dusted off by some old fool on a fixed gear conversion again.

Too Long

2009-09-16T15:16:00.000-07:00

1993

That was the last time my friends Kevin, Marty and I have had the chance to hang out as the thick as thieves trio we once were so long ago. Since Marty is settled back into being stateside after a long absence from the USA in Germany, it was decided we all needed to get it together and catch up a bit. Marty's career fortunately has yielded a substantial amount of frequent flier miles, so he kindly used some of that mileage to hook me up with a ticket to Dayton, Ohio and the long awaited meeting of the “Triad of Enlightenment” as Marty calls it.

Bicycles, yes there is content to be had in this tale. First, by wanting to dodge the obnoxious parking fees at John Wayne Airport to see if riding my bicycle there was a viable option. The Airport Authority was quick in returning my email inquiry and shooting down my notion by stating that they don’t accommodate bicycles in any manner, even for airport employees. How else are they going to collect $20 a day for parking? I managed to dodge the airport parking fees in my own way and spent $3 on a viable public transportation option.

The second bit of bicycle content in this trip happened quite by accident. While staying at Casa De Kevin in the wonderful little ‘burg of Fairborn, we decided to take a trip to the National Museum of the US Air Force. The decision to pay this museum a visit was unanimous because we had met initially while serving in the USAF. The museum is set up in chronological order and the first wing is “Early Flight”. So what greets us as we walk in the door of that particular wing? A bicycle and parts built and machined by the Wright Brothers.

My having visited the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum before, the National Museum of the US Air Force did not disappoint one little bit. In fact, the only way the Smithsonian may be considered better could be the historical significance of the aircraft on display. Even so, the historical significance of the aircraft on display in the USAF Museum was high as well.

One parting bicycle “shot” is the statue of Icarus near the entrance. How is this a bicycle reference? Why, the infamous Flight of Icarus Trail in Western Colorado, of course!

Independence Day Weekend

2009-08-03T15:54:00.000-07:00

Independence Day weekend saw two rides to the ballpark. Friday night with my brother Tony and Sunday afternoon with Rebecca. Major League Baseball honors the men and women who serve in the United States Armed Forces every year that particular weekend, so the usual pageantry of attending a baseball game was enhanced. Friday night's game had a USAF Reservist from Los Alamitos Air Station perform the National Anthem and he excelled beyond any amateur I have ever heard at any event. The standing ovation for his performance lasted well into the fly-over by two USAFR UH-60 helicopters. Sunday's game featured an Honor Guard and additional crewmen unfurling a large flag on the field from a local Coast Guard Cutter. We enjoyed the extra pageantry and also remembered to appreciate the freedom provided by those who serve.

Fixed Mob vs The Angels

2009-06-19T03:55:00.000-07:00

What do you get when 24 fixcreants mob an Angels game? That's right, pandemonium.

This past Saturday a few of the fixed gear faithful the Padres vs Angels game at The Big A. After fueling up on coffee at Kaffa in Orange, we spun over to the stadium to cheer on the home team. The ride over was largely uneventful due to Kaffa's proximity and use of the Santa Ana River bike path for about half of the required distance.

We all arrived safely and locked up under the watchful eye of the stadium's electric eye and the diligent gate attendant. The gatekeepers there are always so cool there about keeping a watchful eye on bikes. Once inside we made our way up to the View level and settled in.

The previous night's festivities at the Big A saw the Halos breaking out of an offensive slump and beating the Padres soundly. This night was no different, especially with Torii Hunter. In four appearances at the plate, he hit three home runs. The Angels tallied up 9 runs to 1 from the Padres, much to the delight of the Home fans and dismay of the Visiting fans. Needless to say, the level of rowdiness in the spirit of attending a MLB game was high within our bunch and everyone had a most enjoyable time.

We'll be doing this again.

Found by Bike

2009-05-20T01:34:00.001-07:00

Carrie and I took a little jaunt down by the beach this past Sunday. She's still getting used to her new fixed gear conversion, but is handling it very nicely. This was evident in our maneuvering through the Huntington Beach mess from the Newport line through Bolsa Chica. Neither of us got hit by another bike path user, nor did we hit any of the errant swervin' mervins encountered. Sunset Beach was the usual mellowness, save one aggro SUV operator that just had to get by us, only to get behind another vehicle that was traveling more slowly then we were. Some people's kids...

From Surfside to Seal Beach we had to ride the shoulder of the PCH, which was the first time Carrie had been out on that bike in a high speed traffic area. Her pace quickened and we made quick work of it. After passing Seal Beach Blvd, I got to show her a trick on how to quickly and easily get across a busy six lane state highway. The light at Seal Beach Blvd had just turned green, so instead of waiting for the left turn lane there I led us down PCH until the traffic behind us ran out, allowing us to zip a left turn into a quiet resedential to access downtown. It was almost spooky, going from that busy highway to a super quiet narrow resedential street. Two different worlds.

Our way was made down to the pier and then across town to see if a group ride that was supposed to be turning around in Seal Beach had arrived yet. By the time we arrived at their intended turn-around point it was discovered through a couple of text messages that they were already long gone. We were both hungry, so seeking out some good food that wasn't going to break the bank became a priority.

After tooling back to Main Street and taking an initial look-see, we turned around just before PCH. The first place on the right-hand side of the road was this little place with a bunch of whole chickens cooking on an open grill. I asked Carrie if chicken was ok and she agreed, landing us both at Charo Chicken. A couple of burritos were ordered up and were ready in about three minutes. That was when we discovered that we had hit the food jackpot because those chicken burritos were fantastic. Since Charo is a small chain out here in SoCal, now we know where to go if we have a chicken burrito craving.

The ride back and through Huntington Beach seemed to be a lot less crowded. It was either that, or the goofiest users of the bike path had already departed. Once we got back onto the Santa Ana River bike path, Carrie opened it up a bit and we hauled back to where my truck was parked up-river.

We had succeeded in enjoying a nice afternoon together, going for a good bike ride, dodging the dangerous traffic on the beach bike path, beating the inland heat and also finding great chicken burritos! It's doubtful that we would have hit Charo Chicken if we had been in a motor vehicle. Having an unfettered view of those chickens on the grill and catching a big whiff of them cooking while making our u-turn is what sold us on stopping there. We always find the best surprises by bike.

Angels Baseball x 2

2009-05-19T03:53:00.000-07:00

Last week was a good week for me and riding to Angels Baseball games.

Rebecca, my friend Mark and I got a chance to spin over to The Big A on Saturday May 9th to see Joe Saunders and Zack Greinke go head to head in a classic pitcher's duel. Initial consideration was to get some View level seats, but the prospect of two of the American League's best hurlers going at it made the decision to splurge for some Field level seats and easy one.

Joe Saunders

Zack Greinke

The duel was as advertised. The only run of the game was gained by a fine piece of hitting, followed up by base running to match performed by Gary Matthews Jr.

Gary Matthews Jr about to smack a double

Gary Matthews Jr changing directions to tag up on Chone Figgins' sacfrice fly ball to right field

Joe Saunders pitched the game of his career, going all nine innings to get his first MLB complete game shutout.

Joe Saunders post game interview

The following Thursday's duel with the Red Sox was of a different flavor. A see-saw afternoon weekday battle was enjoyed by 35,000 at The Big A. My work counterpart/bud Marvin and I managed to fanagle a couple of company seats to this match-up.

I had to wake up early after working all night, zip over to work, pick up the ticket, zip over to the ballpark, lock up the bike and find my seat. It wasn't too difficult, leaving my place at 1205 and being seated in the ballpark by 1225 easily outpaced what could have been done by motor vehicle. Marvin was already settled in with a beer and after that neither of us left our seats for twelve innings of being on the edge of them.

The game was twelve innings of excitement, punctuated by several fantastic defensive plays by both teams and the exclamation point being what turned out to be a game-saving catch by Torii Hunter in the top of the 10th inning.

Torii Hunter

Yeah, it was a great week to ride to Angels games.

Cycling World Loss

2009-05-12T00:59:00.000-07:00

I just found out tonight that my friend Anthony Sloan passed away in his sleep a couple of nights ago. The preliminary indication is that it was due to an enlarged heart. If there was one trait I knew about Anthony, is that he was at least figuratively a man with a big heart. He wasn't old or unfit, so it's shocking to say the least.

Anthony and I first met in Durango, CO where were both visiting to ride some of the famed singletracks in the area back in 2001. We "knew" each other from Usenet's infamous alt.mountain-bike for a couple of years prior and had both decided the other was an interesting enough character to meet up and ride some trails with someday. The trail we chose to ride the day we met was the southern terminus of the Colorado Trail. We had a great day and a ton of fun, especially while hauling ass and laughing all of the way down the trail. After that meeting it was obvious to both of us that we had "it" figured out and would ride together again.

Anthony eventually moved from Austin, TX to the Colorado Front Range, so our paths crossed a little more often. Seb Orrell Jones and I took Anthony for a singlespeed drag up to the top of Searle Pass from Frisco, CO shortly after his move, utilizing paved bike path and singletracks to accomplish this. He was still working on his CO lungs, but wasn't far away from getting them considering it was his first whole high country season there. One of the last times I got to ride with Anthony was on the infamous Fruita Fat Tire Festival Death March in 2004. After that ride was all said and done, there was a bit of grumbling from some of the other participants. During the grumbling of others and unbeknownst to them, Anthony shot be a big grin and gave me a thumbs up to accompany it. I never told anyone about that (and doubt he did either) until writing it now because it was something that just had to be shared between ourselves. That's the kind of man Anthony was.

The last time I got to visit with Anthony was at the Fruita Fat Tire Festival in 2008. He was busy running the Yeti demo fleet because that's what he did. We had spoken about riding together again after the festival, but it never materialized. I knew I was missing out by not riding with him, but had thought at the time we would have many more chances in the future. Alas, it is not to be so.

Ride In Peace, Anthony.

Hermosa Creek Trail near Durango, CO 04/26/03

Colorado Trail near Searle Pass, CO 09/24/03

Success (originally drafted 04/07/09)

2009-04-30T01:39:00.000-07:00

How successful was this past weekend? Let me count the ways!

Friday afternoon, a wake up and them jump onto the bike to ride down to San Diego. It was a beautiful afternoon, perfect for a solo jaunt down the coast. Arrival at ChIpPy's place was nice in that he and his lovely wife Dale (Yeah, Chip & Dale!) were the hosts with the most. They had a BBQ chicken dinner right off the grill waiting and a cold beer to boot. Their offer of couch space for this wandering bike freak and hospitality was most kind.

After a cup of coffee Saturday morning, I said my good-bye's to ChIpPy and Dale and then pedaled down-valley. Before dropping off of the mesa they live on, an eatery seemed to beckon and produced an inexpensive Machaca breakfast plate that was the goods. Down-valley and close to the convention center that was housing the San Diego Custom Bicycle Show, a stop for more coffee was in order.

Once in the vicinity of the convention center there were signs directing cyclists to the Bicycle Valet parking, which was being provided by the kind folks from the San Diego County Bicycle Coalition. After parking, I ran into the first of many LA area cyclists I know, this particular character being the nefarious Rasta Raj. The day just kept getting better by the minute. I got to talk with a few people who I have wanted to meet and ask questions for quite some time, saw many familiar faces, make some new friends and even have a free beer that was courtesy of Velo Culture Bike Shop. I ran into a friend from the MTB world that I had not ridden with in a couple of years at Sendero Cycles and after catching up a bit he helped direct me to the Velo Cult booth for a beer. That's where I ran into Mark from Long Beach who I had coordinated
a ride back up to Anaheim with in lieu of taking the Amtrak Surfliner. Mark had been there a while and had perused the convention center already, so we looked around a while more, ran into a few more friends, then departed.

Since Mark had been so cool in offering me a ride back up, I asked him if he wanted to stop at Stone to let me buy him a beer and lunch. While there, the infamous Mountain Bike Bill and one of his sons joined us for a quick visit while we were in their neighborhood. If you've not been to Stone and are contemplating going, stop contemplating and GO!

After getting dropped off, the UNC/Villanova game was on and the Tar Heels were victorious, allowing them to advance to the NCAA Basketball Final where they ultimately beat Michigan State. Having lived in NC over nine years collectively, it's hard to not be an ACC Basketball fan.

Sunday, the icing on the cake that was the weekend. Being greeted with a tailwind for the ride over to the Anaheim Train Station was a good sign to get things started. Once on the train, I got to ride up with Dave and Fred who were already on board. Union Station LA, we picked up a couple more riders and moseyed over to Chinatown Station for the Mike Vincent Benefit/Ride. As the crowd grew larger, the meeting of friends old and new grew right along with it. Eventually we all threw our legs over our trusty steeds and pedaled off into the streets of Los Angeles to show solidarity for one of our fallen comrades.

The ride was purely social, as intended. The multitude of ongoing conversations throughout the pack during the ride was phenomenal, with the conversations changing gears, something most of our bicycles were incapable of. A few rally-ups happened, along with a stop to eat at a Whole Foods and/or the farmer's market at The Grove. After the halfway rest and food, other planned stops were eschewed in favor of beelining back to Chinatown Station for the raffle.

The raffle raised a sizable amount of dough for Mike V and it seemed like nobody walked away empty-handed. Some walked away with a ton of swag and others won full BMX bikes. My fortune entailed winning a cap, lip balm (which came in handy after standing there and thinking I needed some), t-shirt, BMX DVDs, and a light set. I'd never won anything in a raffle before, so it was a pleasant surprise.

During the raffle, it was discovered that Kenny and Matt were riding back from Chinatown. Since we had not ridden together in quite some time, it was a no-brainer to just ride with them. After saying good-byes, we headed into the East LA evening. Traffic wasn't too awful and once the light of day left us, the lights won in the raffle came in handy because I hadn't brought any. Kenny and Matt had originally intended to ride to Bolsa Chica for a party, but changed their minds about Downey. After dropping Kenny off in Norwalk, Matt and I would our way over to Anaheim.

The final success of the weekend was awaiting me at my place. After starting up the stairs, I look down at the obnoxious doorslammer's apartment and it was almost empty. The hell that was the worst "neighbor" I'd ever had the displeasure to live adjacent to had become a thing of the past. Yeah, success.

A Mission

2009-04-07T16:37:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, Carrie suggested we take a bike ride over to the San Bernardino Asistencia to check it out. She's quite the California Missions buff and has been to quite a few of them. The visitor hours there are not conducive to our schedules, which explains why it took a few months to make it happen. In the interim we did get a chance to pre-ride most of the route, so it was all pretty cut and dry when the day arrived.

There's something about the Inland Empire in Spring that I really like. It seems to have stemmed from Spring Breaks being spent with my maternal grandparents, camping in various places. The smells, blue skies, green hillsides and mild temperatures bring all of that out.

Our starting point was Fairmount Park, which has a paved bike path that connects with the Santa Ana River bike path. A Santa Ana condition was present and the first few miles were spent bucking a somewhat strong headwind. Since the winds were revealing very clear skies and knowing we could enjoy them as a tailwind on the way back made it easier. Being able to see the Cajon Pass most of the way up the river bike path also helped, since it was the source of the wind and the further East we got from it, the easier the going became.

The exit of the bike path brought us onto Waterman Ave and a bit of a break at a convenience store for something to drink. Once on the street again, we had our one kook driver encounter of the day in the form of some tie-guy municipal employee who expressed that we should have license plates on our bicycles to ride on the street. He must have been the local Traffic Engineer. A quick rip under The 10 and over some railroad tracks brought us onto Barton Road, which was a straight shot to the Astencia.

Of course it had to have at least one hill, or it wouldn't have been a real adventure, right? At least the view improved with altitude. Once up on the hill, it was a little rolly for the first few miles and then dropped down again before the Mission. Up a short rise after New Jersey Avenue and we were there.

It's almost surreal to think that in the midst of the modern suburban sprawl there could be something so old and cool. It's almost like the place is hidden in plain view. Once inside the walls, the hustle and bustle seems to disappear, adding more charm. It also helped that we were the only visitors present the whole time we were there. The courtyard wasn't too opulent, but had its points of interest just the same. The cattle ranchos built to support the missions didn't seem to rate as high as the missions themselves. The chapel and adjoining rooms were sparsely furnished, but the period items there had a fantastic mix of Spanish and Native influences. What appeared to have been a bunkhouse was converted into an interpretive center, which helped explain the site's history from inception to present.

Rested up from the first half of the ride, but hungry, our next mission was to find food! Neither of us had been scanning the strip malls on the way in, but we readily found a sandwich shop and stopped for a bite. Mostly downhill with a tailwind after eating is always a good thing. Allowing for a relaxing pace and a few stops to take a few photos also enabled a celebrity encounter. Arrival back at our starting point after a thirty mile jaunt was welcomed equally by both of us.

It was worth the wait.

Recovery

2009-02-20T14:18:00.000-08:00

Good news, Tone recovered my bike on Wednesday afternoon in Anacrime. It was being piloted by some dirt merchant who had a bunch of garbage strapped to it. The paint is a little worse for wear and the saddle took a few hits, being scuffed through the leather on one side, but the wheels are straight and the Ritchey Race tires are barely worn. The aforementioned dirt merchant told Tone he got it for $40 from some dude. Yeah, right. Thanks to all who were looking out for it and especially to Tone for putting the grab on it.

2008

2009-01-02T04:51:00.000-08:00

So I made it through 2008 without getting creamed by a motor vehicle. That's not to say there weren't a multitutde of close calls, there were. The fuel prices skyrocketing this past Summer may have had something to do with narrowing the chances of being hit. There was a noticeable decrease of traffic that followed the prices, at least until they came back down. Who knows? Maybe some of the hoggish consumers in this country got a tough love lesson from the fuel prices and withering economy because the traffic is still not as bad as it was the last time gasoline was below $2 a gallon. Less traffic is a double-edged sword with my current occupation and the fact that bicycles transport me often from A to B out here, but is more than welcome when I'm out on the streets.

We'll see what 2009 brings. A new President and all of the issues looming large on the immediate horizon are akin to Forrest Gump's proverbial box of chocolates. I certainly hope they are See's Bordeaux!

Thievery

2008-12-27T02:04:00.000-08:00

What compels people to take what does not belong to them? It's not difficult to understand why someone who is hungry would steal food. That could be attributed to a survival instinct, which is basic. It is however difficult to fathom why someone would feel the need to defeat a bicycle lock to steal a bicycle. Yeah, some jibber-jabberer might argue that one could sell a bicycle in order to attain money to buy food. I don't buy that for one minute because anyone who is hungry enough would find a way to attain food in a more immediate manner, especially in the process of using their basic survival instinct to do so. There's no excuse.

My 64cm 2001 Fuji Track was stolen while locked up to a bike rack in front of a local library branch on December 5th, 2008. Whoever did this did so in broad, mid-afternoon daylight and in front of a very busy library branch. Unless this person was over 6'-4" tall and could operate a brakeless fixed gear bicycle, they had to have pushed it away. A police report was filed and a few days later the Park Rangers were notified personally by me of the theft and given a description of the bike. Apparently the Anaheim PD and Parks Department don't share information of this nature with each other, which is less than efficient.

Since the theft, local second-hand stores have been frequented and a sharp lookout has ensued for anyone in possession of my bicycle. All of the local bike shops know this bike because I rode it everywhere, so they have been alerted as well. In addition to checking out real places my bike might turn up, the virtual world is being covered as well. If it turns up on any auction site that sells bicycles, the proper authorities will be alerted. In essence, whoever took my bike screwed up if they planned to do anything with it, other than strip it down and sell the parts. Even so, some of the parts on that bike were unique and if they show up, it will be investigated.

The best course of action for the person who decided to take my bike without thinking at this point would be to just return it. All they need to do is turn it in to APD, saying they found it and wanted to turn it in. The worst course of action this person could do is ride it around, or try to sell it or any part of it. There are more than a few people who know this bicycle, how unique it is because of the frame size. If the latter action is the case, prepare to be put on blast and hope some of the less understanding friends of mine don't catch you first.

Extended Commute

2008-10-09T01:38:00.000-07:00

It's always a pleasure to house sit in a really nice place when one resides in a studio apartment. Being in the middle of a three week stint at the home of a relative has been nothing short of wonderful. Being left more food than one could consume and enough good wine to drown Skid Row is icing on the proverbial cake.

There are a couple of drawbacks to all of this, or are they really a drawback? My commute has been more than doubled and includes having to cross a freeway. The more than doubling of the mileage is not a problem though because my mileage is pretty light from my place. The freeway crossing is not a problem either, as long as I stick to the one available overpass that does not include any freeway on/off ramps. There was a problem with the closest freeway crossing that does include ramps and it only took once to be convinced that two miles out of the way is not a hindrance compared to becoming a hood ornament.

Life is pretty damn good right now.

Interbike

2008-09-26T05:21:00.000-07:00

I never go to Interbike. Why? Las Vegas creeps me out. There seems to be a barely audible hum there, something akin to what Stephen King described in The Langoliers. Of course the audible part of that has to be the incessant traffic, but beyond that there seems to be something else. Maybe it's an air of desperation, emanating from the pores of those with broken dreams that have fallen under gambling's siren spell and false promise of easy money. Whatever it is, I don't like it and haven't ever attended Interbike because of it.

Of course friends frequent Interbike. Some do mind the debauchery and others embrace it fully. Of those friends who are attending this year's convention are some of the Anaheim, CA fixed gear street riding straightedge sort. I'm not straightedge by any means, but am neither a drunken buffoon, nor a drug-addled idiot. Moderation is something that has taken a few years to acquire, but is well worth the efforts to get there. For this, those straightedge friends respect that, just as I respect their choice to not pollute themselves in the slightest.

Last night word was passed down about the MASH street race on The Strip in Las Vegas. It would appear that one of the Anaheim, CA bunch walked away with the $1000 cash prize for winning that particular race. Well done Tone and way to put it down in the land of the crappy vibes.

Polecat

2008-08-26T03:05:00.000-07:00

Polecat is a great word. Not knowing exactly what it meant as a kid while watching westerns, it was obviously a negative connotation. Polecats in westen movies were usually villianous, or some type of scoundrel. For my purposes in this setting though, polecat is being used in a less coloquial and more literal sense. Of course I'll be referring to #2 below, being that I reside in North America.

pole·cat [pohl-kat]–noun, plural -cats, (especially collectively) -cat.

1. a European mammal, Mustela putorius, of the weasel family, having a blackish fur and ejecting a fetid fluid when attacked or disturbed.

2. any of various North American skunks.

Skunks are supposed to be pretty intelligent creatures with excellent olfactory (go figure) and auditory senses. They do not see very well though. In my noctournal cycling wanderings throughout Southern California, more than a few have been sighted. A few of those sightings have been along my commuting route on a Class I bike path. Most of the time they hear my approach with plenty of time to react and retreat. There are exceptions to every rule.

A recent weekend night jaunt on the aforementioned Class I bike path garnered an encounter with a polecat that may not have had the best hearing. Zipping along at 0300 with reckless abandon that an empty multi-use path allows is a brand of fun that can be very appealing. This particular occasion saw an empty path that was accompanied by an almost full Moon, lighting things up better than usual. Something moving on the right-hand side of the path caught my eye and the dark object with a white stripe immediately registered as a polecat. Options clicked next; stop and end up in close proximity, swerve right into the dirt to go around, and swerve left on the pavement. The left swerve won by a landslide vote.

Now comes the reason I call this particularly villanous critter a polecat. It appeared to have heard me at the last possible moment and decided to move right into the swerve that was being executed. The polecat appeared to have glanced off of the front wheel, gone under the chainring and then be run over by the rear wheel that had fortunately been lightened with the anticipation of that probability. It all happened so fast, there was nothing left to do but keep pedaling and put some distance on what was now most likely one very angry scoundrel. Upon stopping, it was rapidly determined that in the very few seconds of the encounter, this polecat was able to unleash some of its mixture of sulfur-containing chemicals.

Arriving at my residence, it was time to take a real damage assessment. The bike took a pretty good chemical hit on the front and rear wheels, with the rear wheel even displaying some tail hair stuck to the valve stem. My left shoe and shin were soaked with it and the right shoe got hit some as well. It was then decided to hit the local pay & spray for a quick blasting off to at least get the bike and my leg somewhat clean. The shoes were bagged and tossed into a dumpster, being split leather and pretty much ruined. The socks joined the shoes. For some reason, anti-bacterial hand soap worked to get the funk off of my legs. The next day I followed this formula to get the rest of the funk off of my bike.

The fallout on this encounter lasted about a week. A few spots on the bike had been missed and it took that long to spot-clean the rest of the odor out. Also, my olfactory senses were way out of whack. My sinuses burned for a couple of days and food tasted funny for at least a week.

Pepe Le Pew, yeah he is.

Serendipity

2008-08-09T02:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes a chain of events leads well away from an intended pupose and other times that chain has a tendency to loop back around on itself.

Being in the midst of an unusually long stretch of nights at work, catching a few miles on the bike during the day has become the norm. Destinations are normally determined by many factors, some physical, some mental and at times even financial. I didn't need any money, felt like visiting my sister and her family and didn't mind the idea of bucking a headwind to get there.

About eight miles after zipping out of the driveway and heading down a main East/West Anaheim arterial, the (hideously colourful) Fuji delivered me into my sister's driveway. Her vehicle was not in the driveway and nobody answered the door. A quick dial-up on the cell phone only brought up the answering machine and a message was left. A friend who lives in the area was called, but they were not around either. What to do?

A physical factor presented itself in the form of hunger and subsequent mental factor decided that a financial factor allowed a sandwich place a few miles out of the way seemed to be a good choice in destinations. The headwind would be addressed first with a beeline South as far as was required and then cruise East with somewhat of a tailwind to enjoy. The Southern leg was no problem, with the exception of a comically irate motorist who didn't care to be informed that he had almost clipped with his side mirror. The turn East was rewarded with the anticipated tailwind and relatively light traffic.

Two-lane secondaries with a 30mph speed limit are a relatively safe bet in keeping away from maniacal lemming drivers who can't read a map. They are even better when a minivan with a driver who is not in too much of a hurry decides to drive right at the limit and allow a draft opportunity. This particular case seemed to know the timing of the lights on the secondary and it was turning out to be a very fortunate diversion from the original plan. That was until a small missing piece of the macadam presented itself to the rear wheel of the Fuji and caused a delayed pinch flat.

Since my sister and I live off of the same main arterial and OCTA buses run up and down it with great frequency during daylight hours, not carrying the basics to repair a flat tire is my normal modus operandi. Sometimes it seems easier to just rack the bike up on the front of the bus and pay the dollar than hassle with changing a flat in the heat of the day. Murphy seemed to have a different idea about all of that this time. No buses run on the secondary chosen, however there was a bicycle shop within two miles. It was nothing a brisk walk couldn't cure.

Keeping to the secondary on foot seemed like a good idea for some reason even though the resedential streets in the area sport alluring shade trees that provide ample cover. Detouring though the resedentials made it's siren's song, but was left unanswered. The next call heard was the sounding of a horn. A quick look over the shoulder saw my sister's vehicle hanging a u-turn and her yelling out the window to me. My nephew was with her and they had just left where he is taking swimming lessons about five miles away from their place. Even though the bike shop wasn't too far away by this point, not taking her up on the offer of a ride home would have been quite lame.

She said what clued her in to who the freak walking down the sidewalk with a bike was is the hideous coloring of the Fuji, which she thinks is cool. My sister the bike freak, recognizing the bike before her own damn brother! We had a chance to have the catch-up chat and complete my primary intention of the day's ride. She even got payback in the form of a few questions about the operation of her Bianchi road bike answered that she was planning on emailing to me that evenning.

Sometimes things work out that way.

Bros

2008-07-08T03:28:00.000-07:00

What is it with some of the flatbill wearing, goatee sporting, crummy tattoo posterized "bros" out there? When being heckled on my bicycle by ignorant motorists, at least 80% of the time, it's one of these goobers. When a projectile has been thrown at me from a moving motor vehicle, it has been one of these cretins 100% of the time. Such was the case a couple of weeks ago.

Some friends and I were out at night, riding down a hill at high speed when what sounded to be a half-full can of some beverage whistled between us and smacked the curb as a light colored suv flew past us. Being that was the only vehicle on the road at the time, we kept up our speed to see if we could determine just what this fool's malfunction was. The vehicle in question appeared to be attempting to elude us as we drew about 100 yards away and the light turned green for them to duck into a resedential area. Little did they know that we know that particular resedential area really well.

Upon entering the area where these creeps disappeared into, the places we had figured they might go were looked at first. After doubling back towards the main arterial where the incident occured, the vehicle appeared out of a dead-end sidestreet. While some of us were questioning their motive, another recorded the license plate of the vehicle. The driver threatened me personally with GBH and was invited to exit the vehicle to attempt it. Just as most of these "bros" are, they fled the scene, punked as punks usually are.

This incident was reported to the local constabulary, who will be handling it as necessary.

Sinuses & Sprockets

2008-06-26T05:01:00.000-07:00

Not having a sinus infection since the Summer of 1994 has been nice. That all changed a couple of weeks ago though. A combination of hot, humid weather and poor air quality snuck up and hit me with its best shot. The only drawbacks were a bit of difficulty breathing at higher rates of exertion and the high velocity voiding of mucous from the membranes while on the fly. The breathing part was expected and pretty easy to deal with by just slowing down a bit if needed. The snot rockets on the fly were difficult to master at higher speeds. It took about a week before missing my shirt hit the 100% level. Until then, only the most raggedy of my Joe Shit The Ragman collection of t-shirts were deployed. Hopefully this crud will be gone completely in a few more days. I could easily go another fourteen years without a sinus infection.

Canyons at Night

2008-06-11T05:04:00.000-07:00

A recent evening had me tripping up into about as remote of a canyon as Orange County pavement can get. Some friends up there had been trying to get me to come up to hang out, eat, drink, and be merry for quite some time.

The ride up was not too bad other than it being somewhat warm. Traffic wasn't too horrific and as soon as suburbia was escaped it was truly sparse. The hills didn't totally agree with my choice of gear inches, but nothing slowed my progress down too much. It didn't take too long to get to the canyon entrance where a final cell phone call warning of my imminent arrival was placed.

The shade in the narrow canyon was a welcome reprieve from the direct sunlight earlier. This seemed to lessen the intensity of the steeper sections. There's enough line of sight to attack the steepest sections, with a head-down and hammer type approach. This became my undoing, as the turn-off I wanted was on one of these approaches and therefore missed. The realization of the missed turn came at the Forest Service boundary. This facilitated a slow downhill run to the intended turn where it was eventually located.

A nice dinner of fresh grilled chicken tacos with all of the accoutrements was had. Of course there was some great beer to go with it, as well as a lot of catching-up in conversation. It was a pleasant visit, to say the least.

The ride back was cool, dark and very fast. What took about an hour up only took about forty minutes on the return trip. It's one that will be ridden again.

Angels Baseball

2008-05-21T04:20:00.000-07:00

I still don't get why Arte Moreno had to use Los Angeles in the Angels name. Growing up Behind The Orange Curtain, they were always the California Angels to me. The 2004 World Champions were the Anaheim Angels. That seemed a bit odd, but not nearly as odd as the historically recent adddition of Los Angeles into their name. They are in California. They are in Anaheim. They are not in Los Angeles, unless you are a geographically retarded midwesterner.

The 17th saw my daughter and me visiting The Big A via bicycle to see the Angels battle the Dodgers. We arrived to lock-up to our usual spot on the perimeter fence and the gate attendant for that area made it a point to amble over to reassure us of the security of our bikes. An early arrival also allowed for a hot dog before the game and plenty of time to settle into our shaded seats on the Terrace level.

Ervin Santana

Chan Ho Park Delivers

Kotchman Looking One Over

Reggie Willits in Right Field

As usual, there were plenty of sights and sounds going on in the ball park besides the ball game. Some of the people watching in the stands was fantastic, especially with the mix of Dodger Blue in the sea of Angels Red.

Unfortunately for the Angels, Ervin Santana's two mistakes in early innings were a bit too much for their offense to overcome. Ervin is usually pretty tough in the Big A, but the law of averages must have had his number. That and Park's curve ball seemed to really be stumping the Angels' bats.

Ervin Santana Delivers

Leaving the Big A by bicycle seems almost criminal because it's so easy. We decided to hit a local eatery and getting to it with a few local knowledge tricks was a snap. Sitting outside to eat and watching the people in their cars leave was interesting. It took almost forty minutes for the parking lot clear out. The highlight of this was watching the bicycle rickshaws leave the parkign lot when they were done, some with style.

Papa Wheelie

From the eatery, we were home in fifteen minutes. If we had left for home immediately following the game, a good 60% of the people in cars would still have been stuck in that parking lot.

Lawrence Of Arabia

2008-05-16T01:31:00.000-07:00

A message board I frequent garnered a real gem last weekend. Someone posted up that Lawrence Of Arabia was being screened in 70mm at the Aero in Santa Monica Friday night. I have seen the film before, but never on the big screen and the chance to see it both on the big screen and in 70mm was too much to pass up.

Friday afternoon saw a 1PM wake-up after working all night the night before. The idea of battling through Friday afternoon traffic on four wheels had a very sour taste to it. The notion was spat out almost as soon as the bile began to rise and the gathering of enough gear to get across the LA Basin by bicycle began immediately at that point. By 2PM, the wheels were turning.

A couple of quick stops were to be had at the onset. The closest bike shop was empty and acquiring a new spare tube was accomplished in a couple of minutes. There was no line at the closest ATM to the West and the acquisition of a few greenbacks went with nary a hitch. After those were both accomplished, it was off into the perpetual afternoon headwind.

The initial stretch was largely Westbound. Main arteries were used for this because of the wind. Lollygagging delivery trucks, buses and any other sluggish large vehicles were utilized to their fullest potential. On Lincoln in Anaheim, a FedEx delivery van gave a really good draft for a couple of miles. On DelAmo in Lakewood, a bus did the same, providing welcome relief from the incessant headwind.

Feeling like a break from sucking exhaust fumes, the Los Angeles River bike path was used from DelAmo to its terminus at Atlantic. The wind was favorable at times and even when not so favorable, the going was really good. It was nice to relax a bit and enjoy the scenery, especially the colourful tags on the bike path's surface. Is one considered a hater if they ride a bicycle over a tag?

Weaving through the heavy industrial area after the terminus of the bike path was not as hectic as anticipated. Wide shoulders, light traffic and decent road surfaces prevailed. A few tight squeezes were encountered on a few zigs that should have been zags, but were handled with aplomb. Washington Blvd was a welcome sight, being the intended route to get West of LA proper.

Washington Blvd is a little beat up and crowded, but makes a nice Westbound beeline towards Venice and Santa Monica. The conditions kind of see-sawed all of the way to Culver City, where a cut over to Venice Blvd and stop at a small market for a refuel and break took place. Venice Blvd has a Class II bike lane and is pretty fast, even in the seemingly perpetual afternoon headwind. The characters seemed to become more frequent and vociferous towards the coast. While stopped at Venice/Lincoln a rather large 50-ish gentleman asked, "Do you get many flat tires?" "Not today." "How far have you ridden today?" "From Disneyland." "oh"

A swerve onto Abbot Kinney allowed entry into Venice and a quick burn to the coastline. The coast was slightly crowded, but burning into Santa Monica was much easier to get through than some of the traffic encountered earlier. A quick right turn on Montana followed by a twelve block plus change rip and the Aero was looming large.

The dude at the box office said they expected to sell out and pre-sales for the show were high. They opened the doors at 6:30PM and the showtime was 7:30PM. That provided an hour to wander a little and grab a bite. The local hippy-dippy grocery store had a full service deli, so a sandwich fuel-up was in order. An accompaniment of Honest Tea's Moroccan Mint seemed like a fitting drink before watching a film that was partially shot in Morocco.

Once the film started, it was obvious that the effort was not wasted. Such amazing cinematography, acting, and quality of the 70mm picture in Lawrence Of Arabia seems insurmountable. The crowd present in the packed theater was obviously made up of cinephiles, with barely a waver in the sea of heads, all eyes glued intently to the massive screen. The whole experience is one that will not soon be forgotten.

Empty streets at night make for cool runnings, literally in shorts and a t-shirt at 11:30PM on a Spring night. The warm-up didn't take too long though and the yellow brick road that unfolded in front of the bike led towards West LA. Getting away from the dampness of the coast was a priority and the roads made familiar by many outings with the infamous Midnight Ridazz seemed like the right choice.

The elevation gained by heading up Santa Monica Blvd was lost by dropping down Western Ave to land once again on Washington Blvd. The industrial area weave was even easier in the wee hours and Bandini Blvd, though quite putrid near the meat packing area, was a veritable racetrack. A few zigs and zags near the 710/5 split gave way to the largely Southeast running Telegraph Road.

Beelining for the Orange Curtain went very fast until landing on Imperial Highway in La Mirada. Feeling a little punchy from not refueling since the sandwich and tea appeared to cause a bit of a short-circuit in the 'ol internal GPS. Recognizing a landmark at Imperial and Carmenita seemed to recalibrate the brain, where a turn South got the bike pointed in the right direction. The next open store known to stock fresh bananas encountered was the 7-11 at Moody and Crescent in La Palma.

Without the stop in La Palma, the home stretch would have been difficult. With the stop, it went by like a blur in the night. There's something about being close to home on the tail end of a long ride that can make one feel like they are on autopilot. This in turn seems to make higher speeds attainable when they probably should not be. Maybe it's a creature of the night kind of thing, only experienced in the wee hours.

There's something about arriving home after such an adventure that seems somewhat anticlimactic, yet satisfying at the same time. With one hundred and ten miles of fixed gear riding under the belt and fresh memories stored of a truly epic masterpiece about one of history's true heroes, there were only a couple of things left to complete the odyssey. A shower and two fingers of Bushmills 10 preceded the well deserved trip into slumberland.

Waver (follow-up)

2008-04-09T03:29:00.000-07:00

Well, the aforementioned solid commuter now waves every time we pass. He must work the same kind of messed up shift-type work I do because sometimes we get to greet in both the mornings and evenings. Now I'm starting to wonder if he is like my own Bizzarro Commutant, working 12 hour day shifts, commuting in the opposite direction of me at the same time every day. Or does he have the vampire shift like me, but lives and works the opposite of me? There are things I ponder at 0-Dark:30 and will probably never find out.

I have seen Frank, the Ambiguous guy on his Bridgestone track bike once in the past few weeks. He appears to be getting back on track with his morning spins up and down the bike path. That should be good for a few early morning convos on the way home in the next few months.

Waver

2008-03-18T05:42:00.001-07:00

Waving to all of the cyclists one sees around here could be a tiresome act because of the sheer numbers. It's understandable why many cyclists don't regularly greet others and I normally don't initiate contact, unless something compels me to. I'll return a wave with at least a head nod, unless it's noticed too late and would be unseen.

My commute can be rife with cyclists, from commuters to recreational type folks. I see some of the same people almost day in and day out. There is one commuter I see almost daily, rain or shine. There is only one commuter and no recreational cyclists on days there is even a threat of incliment weather, let alone rain. I was finally compelled to start greeting this other commuter, who either just doesn't give a shit about a few drops like I don't, or is a man of principle. It took about four tries, giving him plenty of time to see and return my simple peace sign flash and he finally returned it with a wave last week. We'll see if it continues...

Sucker!

2008-02-28T01:20:00.000-08:00

What is it with wheelsuckers? The other day I was enjoying a leisurely afternoon cruise and managed to catch another rider. The rider was going the same direction, a little more slowly than me. I hung back about a dozen yards for a while to see if they were going to increase their speed, but they were actually decreasing a little. I decided to pass them and resume my pace. After passing and getting down the road a little ways, I hear a chain on derailluer cogs close behind me. This goofball decided to drop in on my wheel unannounced, which is something I detest when it comes to strangers who I do not know, or trust to have sufficient bicycle handling skills. I immediately slowed my cadence and informed this person that they were unwelcome. When this person decided to laugh at my disdain, they were treated to a descriptive expletive. The best part was watching them looking over their shoulder after shifting down their cogset and trying to drop me. They never got closer than a hundred yards or further than a quarter of a mile, all the while I'm keeping the same cadence that a one speed bicycle allows riders to do with relative ease. He must be very proud of himself, "dropping" someone on a 24 year old steel bicycle with one gear and probably weighs about eight pounds more than his carbon wonderbike does.

Some People's Kids

2008-02-21T04:04:00.000-08:00

While walking my bicycle on the sidewalk between the driveway and my apartment yesterday, there were two kids blocking the sidewalk. Both were about ten to twelve years old, one on a skateboard and the other sitting on a bicycle. As I approached, the one on the bicycle saw me and moved to the side to allow me to get by. The kid on the skateboard saw me and stayed right where he was. I walked up and stopped, waiting for the kid on the skateboard to do something. After about ten seconds of looking at this kid, I finally asked, "Are you going to move, or what?" The kid jumps off of his skateboard, leaving it blocking the sidewalk and looks at me with a "what are you going to do now?" look. His skateboard got a free flight into the grass with the assistance of my foot. He started to say something and I told him if he has anything to say to send one or both of his parents over to talk with me. I sure hope he has a nice career at McDonald's.

Contact

2008-02-12T04:15:00.000-08:00

I guess that using a left turn lane on a green arrow is probable cause for some police officers to contact bicyclists. Having been in Law Enforcement for a solid fifteen years, I know better. It was a case of profiling, plain and simple.

The number one and number two lanes were clear enough for my move to the turn lane lane, which was preceded by a hand signal. I had both an operating headlight and taillight on my bicycle. What was I guilty of? It would seem that I was guilty of riding a bicycle around 10:30PM, going much faster than the usual nighttime sidewalk riders in the area, and being assertive about it while using the traffic lanes. I was probably guilty of not being geared up as a recreational cyclist as well, wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and no bicycle specific gear.

Getting contacted by LE was not that confusing because I get contacted often enough for riding my bicycle in traffic and being assertive about it. The car culture is so ingrained here, many LE members just aren't aware of what a cyclist's rights in the roadway truly are. This is especially true at night, when normal people wouldn't even consider taking a ride on a beach boardwalk bike path. What was confusing was the manner in which I was treated by the individual who decided to contact me.

Knowing what I know about LE, of course there was nothing for me to do but cooperate and be respectful of the fact that this person was doing what the taxpayers pay them to do. All of my responses ended with "sir". I pulled in to the parking lot just beyond the intersection and dismounted my bicycle as he zoomed into the parking lot behind me, tires screeching to a halt. Ok, he's a little worked up. He starts in with my he stopped me, claiming I "pulled right out in front of him", to which I replied that I saw a car approaching, thought I had enough room and signaled my intentions before changing lanes. He either didn't see me stick my arm out, or neglected to mention that he did.

Then he starts in on a battery of standard and some not so standard questions. I didn't have my driver's license on me because I was not driving, nor do I carry a wallet, which he claimed was not normal. He didn't believe me when I told him my age, or my name and basically called me a liar in so many words. Then he does a flashlight eye check on me to see if I'm under the influence of methamphetamine. After that, he tells me, "Just admit it and I'll go easy on you." I replied, "Admit what?" "Admit you're lying about your name and you have warrants." "I don't know what you're talking about because I have never had a warrant for my arrest." Then he starts in again about not believing who I say I am and then asks who he can call to confirm who I am. Without batting an eye or missing a beat I recited the phone number of the last LE agency I worked for and said to call them and the supervisor on duty will be able to describe me. It would have been even nicer if he had thought I was bluffing and called them.

After deflating a substantial amount and obviously standing down, he ran me through CLETS to check my driver's license. Of course I have a valid driver's license and no warrants. I'm just someone who is as they say they are, a citizen going home after an evening out, nothing more, nothing less. His well toned-down "have a nice evening" when he let me go was a true testament to him knowing he had screwed up.

I'm certain that if I had lodged a complaint against this officer and that whole contact had been recorded, there would have been a problem for him. I can honestly say that I was not in the least bit disrespectful to this officer, though his actions were far less than respectful of me in turn. I'm not about revenge or causing problems for an officer just because they had a severe lapse in judgement. I never know when that very same officer is going to save my bacon when something goes wrong beyond my control when riding at night. He can probably thank the benevolent Whittier officers who responded to the hit and run where my friend Kenny and I got hit last year.

They never really know who they have until they push too far and that sometimes goes for either side of the good guy/bad guy coin.

R.I.P. Sheldon Brown

2008-02-05T06:47:00.000-08:00

Word came down last week that Sheldon Brown had a massive heart attack and passed on. The cycling world mourns and he will be missed by many. Ride on, Captain Bike!

Heard

2008-01-30T03:58:00.000-08:00

I guess the Weather Gods heard what I had to say. It hasn't rained for a couple of days now and everything is back to whatever normal may be around here. Some say it's cold, but compared to Colorado Winters, this is a cakewalk.

Monday I managed to get a 30 miler in with some hills. The new bike is super comfortable compared to the Fuji Track I had relegated myself to. The stretched out wheelbase and 27" wheels are partially to be credited for this. The Fizik Nisene saddle helps quite a bit too. This afternoon when I decide to roll out of bed before work, at least 30 miles are on tap. It's nice to be riding regularly again. It's the most consistency I've had since Kenny and I got plowed by that idiot in Santa Fe Springs in September.

The weekend is looking promising so far. There is a slight threat of rain on the horizon there, but I don't trust the local weather prognosticators to be very accurate. Something about government employees and tinfoil hats...

Go Away

2008-01-29T15:10:00.000-08:00

Rain rain, go away. Don't go away angry, just go away.

The best part of the recent rains here is that it's cleaned a lot of the scum off of the streets. Not everyone rides when it's wet, or if there is a threat of rain. Another great by-product is the green hillsides. I may actually get into the dirt in the next few days to ride in what has become a rarity out here.

"Serious" Cyclist Impact

2008-01-02T15:32:00.000-08:00

Recreational cyclists are out for one thing and one thing alone, recreation. This is true whether their motivation is fitness, training, racing, or just enjoy riding a bicycle. They are recreating and most of the time, it's even easy for a layman to tell this due to their attire and/or how they are equipped.

Having been both a recreational and utility cyclist out here for three years now, I can say unequivocally that I get ten times the respect when not on my $3500 road bike and geared up in all of the correct gear any "serious" recreational road cyclist would be in. When wearing street clothes and going somewhere with a purpose on a low-key single speed bicycle, I get a wider berth from traffic, fewer horn beeps and less garbage thrown at me from passing vehicles. There is a very noticeable difference whether I'm going somewhere with a purpose, or simply recreating.

It wasn't hard to do the math and come up with an answer for all of this. If someone is recreating in the street while many motorists may think that bicyles do not belong in the street, it's most likely considered at least an inconvenience to them. To some of those drivers, it would seem that a person with a purpose of transporting themselves to work, to attain goods, or access services may not be an inconvenience. This seems especially true in neighborhoods were there are higher percentages of low income residents who must depend on either public transportation, a bicycle, or even a combination of both. They understand the bicycle as a means of transportation, yet may not understand the bicycle as a recreational tool. Playing in the street is something your mother warned you about.

With the increase in recreational cyclists on the roadway due to the "Lance Effect", SoCal drivers will probably become less and less understanding of cyclists in general. The "What are you doing in the road?" attitude that is already in the minds of many motorists seems to be getting worse. This is especially true when I don my "serious" gear and throw a leg over my relatively expensive bicycle for that .5 mile ride to the Class I river path near me. Hopefully those negative motorist attitudes don't spill too far over into the netherworld of utility cycling. I rather enjoy riding to and from work, which is a fringe benefit for any utility cyclist who does not have to ride a bicycle to get where they need to go. It still can't be called "recreational".

Damaged Goods

2007-12-28T01:46:00.000-08:00

Though full closure on the hit & run will take some time, little pieces of it fall into their place from time to time. Kenny is admittedly going through some heavy PTSD and I'm definitely looking over my shoulder a lot more now. One physical piece of closure came the day I picked up my bike, or what was left of it. I had hoped my bike was less instrumental than my leg was in taking the mirror off of the Honda that hit us. It wasn't so.

I have to admit that I was pretty dejected when the damage was first viewed. That bike rode so well and trying to find another Japanasonic Schwinn of the same frame size and caliber was going to be difficult at best. This is especially true when keeping in mind how much I paid for that bike. The only thing I can think of offhand is to not scour the Earth, but use settlement money to buy a new Panasonic Track frame from Japan. Yeah, it'll be a pretty penny, but it will ride just as nicely as that old Super Le Tour 12.2 did.

Write On

2007-12-21T21:27:00.000-08:00

Ok, so let this thing sit and fester in its own cesspool long enough. It's not that I haven't been riding bicycles, I have and quite a bit this year. It took hanging around with a bunch of miscreant fixed gear freaks to get me on my first century ride and another three after that. It's not any of that serious kind of cycling, but fun rides with good people moving at a steady pace. There have been a few races, lots of commuting and just generally avoiding getting into my truck to drive in this madness. It's been a great year of riding and 2008 promises to be even better.

Whether Whimps

2007-12-21T06:47:00.000-08:00

What's up with SoCal people? A few drops fall out of the sky and all of the serious commuters are nowhere to be found. The same goes for temperatures under 50 degrees. If one does happen to show themselves when it's cold here, they are dressed like Nanook of The North. At least those who must commute by bicycle, or choose to commute in all conditions are still out there. At least now I know who is worth waving to when the fair weather cyclists join back in the fray.

Hit and Run

2007-10-02T14:45:00.000-07:00

This past Friday night my friend Kenny and I were hit
by a car that ran in Santa Fe Springs. I ended up
getting an ambulance ride, bruises, contusions and
five staples in my head at Presbyterian in Whitter.
Kenny got knocked out and was bleeding from a cut on
his head, but came to after about a minute. My phone
got killed in the collision and a cool motorist
stopped to call 911 for us. Kenny got carted off to
St. Francis in Lynwood and will be alright. I'm ok
too, just a little sore still from where my lower back
hit the junction of the roof of the car and
windshield. It was a helluva kidney-punch. A recent
return to core abdominal exercise sure came in handy
in preventing more serious injury.

We got hit from behind by a silver Honda 2 door. The
passenger side mirror was ripped off by my left ankle
I was getting launched into the air and bouncing off
of the windshield, which made identifying the run
vehicle easy for the Police. We were riding slightly
staggered far right on a wide shoulder, Kenny was in
front and I was about six inches to the right off of
his rear wheel when we were hit. I remember hearing
the car coming and seeing a headlight beam hitting the
ground right in front of me a split second before
getting launched. I saw Kenny going into the air right
after I was hit. My bike ended up in the grass on the
other side of the sidewalk and I ended up just about
at Kenny's bike on the sidewalk. Kenny was about
another 40 feet down. As soon as I stopped
sliding/tumbling, I got up, ran towards Kenny, trying
to get a look at the car and to check on him. My waist
pack was on the ground where I landed, so after
checking to see if Kenny was breathing, I tried 911.
It worked enough to have the call go through, but they
couldn't hear me because my phone had been impacted. I
flagged a kind motorist down and he made the call as I
went back to check on Kenny, who was coming to. He
kept trying to get up and I has to restrain him until
the Paramedics arrived so he didn't injure himself
further. The next thing I know, I'm in a collar on a
backboard being transported to the hospital.

This happened on Santa Fe Springs Rd at McCann Dr in
Santa Fe Springs about Midnight. We had just been
riding around, checking things out and were headed
home after riding a few streets and sitting outside a
club in Uptown Whitter, listening to a band. Both of
us were sober and our bikes had bright blinking
taillights as well as headlights. I was wearing light
colored clothing and Kenny was wearing a reflective
messenger bag. The intersection where we were hit is
well-lit and the right lane is wide enough for another
lane, as well as a bike path.

The Officers on scene said they had a good idea where
the car came from. The bar we had passed a half mile
earlier is notorious for producing DUIs and has
security cameras all over the place, including the
parking lot. They were really cool and felt like they
would not have too much trouble finding out who hit
us. My garbled 911 call will give them a good timeline
to go back from on the security videos. When we passed
the bar right before we got hit, the bouncer outside
exchanged pleasantries with us, making him the closest
witness to what happened. I'd say if that car came
from that bar, the Police have a good chance of
finding this coward.

After being released from the hospital around 0230, I
was still a little dazed and my phone was not working
at all. I couldn't remember any phone numbers, so I
walked from the hospital to Beach Blvd because I knew
OCTA runs a bus up and down it all night. After
walking and hopping a couple of bus rides, I got home
about 0730.

The rest of the weekend was spent resting and hanging
around with Rebecca, after a visit to Kenny in the
hospital and ensuring his people knew where he was.
I'm ok and already feel pretty good. The kidney punch
is all that's still sore and I'll be getting the
staples out of my nugget on Friday.

There was nothing we could have done to avoid this
collision. It happened and hopefully the perpetrator
has already been or does get caught. It will not
prevent me from living my life as I have been,
enjoying as much of it as possible and a lot of that
from the saddle of my bicycle. I may be looking over
my shoulder a bit more often though.

Weak Commute

2007-07-03T04:54:00.001-07:00

So my commute is totally weak nowdays. After one half mile of street, it's all Class I bike path. Even so, I got to beef it up last week.

Watching houses for relatives can be taxing. Two were out of town last week and one has a dog. I came up with a rough circuit to ride from my place every day that turned out to be about 25 miles. Of course since I work days, this was to be ridden in the hottest part of the day in the worst traffic. I probably could have skipped stop#1 every other day, but they get enough mail to kill a tree every day and an overstuffed mailbox is a bad thing. I bit the bullet and went with it.

By Thursday I was pretty burned out. It didn't matter though because this was the last day there was a timeline involved because I don't work Friday nights. The burnout wasn't particularly due to the miles, but more so the heat and traffic. There was one moment of glory Thursday afternoon at one particular intersection though. Traffic stopped for a signal that I needed to turn left at and I timed the turn lane perfectly with a high speed weave through three lanes of traffic to split, dropping in right behind the last car in the turn lane and then burning through the intersection. I was so pumped, a friend who happened to see me about 1/2 mile down the road said he saw me hauling ass down that street.

When the week ended on Friday, it was an easy spin to both residences, followed by a stop at my favorite coffee shop. A couple of things were learned from last week. One is that my commute is actually quite nice and staring a gift horse in the mouth is pretty lame in that respect. The other is that I'm finally getting used to riding a fixed/brakeless bicycle on the street and doing it with a little panache.

I still prefer riding in the coolness of the night though.

Pepe Le Puke

2007-03-20T16:49:00.000-07:00

As we pedaled on with our lights cutting through the darkness, a figure began to take shape. There was definitely someone there on the side of the trail. The form became more defined as we approached, enhanced by the low overcast that was eerily lit by the overabundance of light pollution. The figure was standing still, feet splayed slightly apart, watching us approach from the darkness. The figure finally moved when we were about fifty feet away, tipping a can or bottle up to drain the remnants of whatever they were consuming. This was when we were both glad that this person was at least twenty feet off to the side of the trail. When the drink came down, they made a slight retching noise and then doubled over, spewing the contents of their stomach all over themselves and the ground as we passed by. I immediately burst into hysterical laughter and reveled for a while in the simple fact that our timing was so very impeccable as to witness this incredibly disgraceful act of slovenliness. Carrie was a bit grossed out and rightfully so. At least we didn't have to smell it in passing.

If a drunk bum pukes in the forest, does anyone hear it?

Sunday Ride

2007-03-20T16:47:00.000-07:00

What makes me happy? A lot of things do, contrary to what my rantings may indicate in this blahg. Blahgs are just a "bitching post" to people as a scratching post is to a cat. If it's there, we'll use it for what it was intended. I was happy Sunday evening.

In the midst of a weekend filled with various bicycle rides, Carrie came over Sunday evening so we could go for a ride together. A later start was made easier with the early advent of Daylight Savings Time this year.

Carrie decided on riding the big blue cruiser and I chose the purple Continental. Sure, she had gears and could coast, but that cruiser is pretty heavy. Even so, she did a great job of slinging it down the bike path at a good clip all of the way to the beach. The saddle payoff on that bike is pretty huge though, being the most comfortable cruiser saddle I have ever ridden. The Continental is not much of a lightweight compared to my other skinny tired bikes, but wasn't a burden.

It's still officially Winter, but one would never know it from being here in Sunny SoCal. Carrie was dressed in a pink tank and some new white FOX shorts, looking fantastic. I chose my "One Less Car" t-shirt and dark olive Carhart shorts. Carrie had the foresight to bring a hoodie and I figured it would be warm enough to go without, even on the return trip.

During the week we don't get to talk much because of conflicting schedules and our weekend bike rides always entail a lot of catching up. Sunday was no exception because the bike path was virtually empty. We rode side by side and caught up on the previous week's goings on with no car noise, no radio, and no music, just the light background noise of our tires humming down the pavement.

We both decided we were hungry when the beach was reached, so we pointed our bikes towards a favorite haunt and pedaled away. Riding back without refueling was obviously out of the question. After locking the bikes up and getting ready to cross the main thoroughfare, a couple sidled up to us and asked if we were from there. The honest answer of being from "near there" was given and they asked us if the restaurant we were headed to was open. Looking up and seeing people on the patio, the obvious answer was yes, but Carrie and I knew that from being there late on a Sunday night anyways. It turns out they had been turned away from another restaurant closer to the beach because they close at 9:30 on Sundays. That just seems cheesy.

Seating was "seat yourself" and we chose the patio because it was such a beautiful evening out. Of course we couldn't just eat, so we had margaritas to start with. I'm not sure what it is about this particular place and us arriving on bicycles, but those were some pretty powerful margaritas as they always seem to be there. Maybe we look thirsty. Carrie had a "small" tostada appetizer that didn't look very small to me and I had a cajun shrimp burrito. Nothing too heavy, yet not too light just the same. We had to ride back, after all.

Exiting the restaurant into the night, there seemed to be a bit of a chill compared to earlier, prompting Carrie to don her hoodie. The breeze created by the simple act of riding was a little chilly for me at first and seemed to be the same for Carrie, prompting a quick stop to put the hood on her hoodie up. Pedaling along the mostly deserted beach path was easier than on the way in when the beaches were still officially open. Some of the deserted fire rings near our turn inland still had good fires going, so we stopped at one to enjoy it for a while and warm up a bit more before pressing on. It seemed rather surreal with the "normal" beach lights on and nobody else around. Surreal and nice all at the same time.

Leaving the warmth of the fire was a little difficult at first, but after making it a couple of miles inland the notion that the ocean was making the beach colder was confirmed. It became even more evident after crossing under a freeway and getting up from a low spot in the path. Warmth is good.

The toll of the heavier bike started to show with Carrie. She admitted that she was slowing down and I understood that would probably happen because of the sheer weight of that bike. Forty miles on a fifty pound cruiser is no easy task, even if it has gears. For not having ridden much lately, Carrie did really well and was at least provided the comfort of that nice saddle in exchange for the excessive weight of the bike. Being planted in the ass-hatchet on the Continental, I contemplated the monkey-butt that was forcing me to stand more often. I also envisioned converting a couple of old Schwinn lightweights to singlespeed "tourist" style for us to go on rides like this in relative light comfort. Comfort and light can be reality.

Rolling up to my place we were greeted with some doof in the parking lot who was somehow compelled to complete a burnout on top of a speed bump with his pickup. Not only was it lame for being a burnout on a painted speedbump that EVERYONE'S rent money in the complex pays for painting, but this was at 1AM on a Monday morning. I left a note on his truck Monday evening on my way to work that informed him just how much of a selfish jackass he really is.

It was much quieter on my side of the complex. Carrie had one thing on her mind, stretching out on the couch. I didn't blame her one bit and joined her after bringing the bikes in.

I can't help but wonder just how freakish we are to "normal" people for spending a Sunday evening. Normalcy is overrated.

New Commute

2007-01-20T23:01:00.000-08:00

So, it's been a while. A move and the fallout on either end of the move have done a good job of keeping me busy. The move was a good one because it was a move up from previous digs. Also, my commute has lengthened, but by less than a mile. Even so, my commute time has been hacked down to less than ten minutes door to door. Previously, the three mile trip was peppered with stop signs, traffic signals and a great many brain dead cage dwellers. That commute took an average of twenty minutes. The difference? A Class I bike path for over 2 1/2 miles and only one traffic signal between me and the Class I. Sure, it's boring and I don't have as much to bitch about, but is sure is nice to blaze unfettered to and from work.

Life is good.

JD

Fixed

2006-12-14T15:11:00.000-08:00

Yeah, this blahg has been neglected. Why? Because I've been riding instead of writing. I recently converted a 1978 Schwinn Continental to a fixed gear to commute on. It's heavy, but much faster than the cruiser. I think I'll go ride it some more now...

JD

New Bike

2006-11-07T13:35:00.000-08:00

So, Carrie has a new bike. She finally took the plunge and bought a mountain bike! We took it out for a shakedown Sunday after I built it up. Even though it was mostly flat beachy bike path, we totaled 38 miles. Include a dinner stop to celebrate her Birthday and a little bit of touristic venturing about and it was a great way to spend an afternoon/evening. If she can hack 38 miles of bike path, she'll be able to handle the entry level dirt around here. We're both very stoked...

JD

Fallness

2006-11-07T13:34:00.000-08:00

I like commuting in the cooler weather. The lack of sunlight in the evenings makes the pedal to work a little more dangerous though. The flashing headlight seems to help, except at 4-way stops where cross-traffic gets freaked out and will not proceed when it's their turn to do so. My routes have been modified for the pedal in, but have stayed pretty much the same in the mornings since Daylight Savings Time ended. It's nice having a little light on at least one direction of the commute.

JD

Balboa & Stuff

2006-09-16T08:15:00.000-07:00

One might think that the Orange County beach bike paths would be a full-on crowd scene on Labor Day weekend, but that was not the case this past Saturday. Carrie had previously devised a plan for a ride and we decided to follow through on it with Rebecca joining us.

We started at Huntington State Beach and made our way South to Newport with a pretty stout tailwind. I could see that all of the cyclists headed North were having a bit of a time pedlaing into the wind. We pretty much just sat and cruised lazily down the "alley" section in the North of Newport. Bike and foot traffic were both surprisingly light, which was a nice change from previous Summer weekends.

Once we hit 36th Street, Carrie took the lead and wove us through more light traffic with "bell assists" from Rebecca and myself when needed. We found ourselves at the Newport Pier in very little time and continued past onto the Balboa Peninsula.

The path traffic on the Peninsula was also surprisingly light. It all seemed really strange compared to Memorial Day weekend when it was handlebar to handlebar down there. Approaching the Balboa Pier, I took the lead and turned us onto Palm Street and over to the Balboa Island Ferry.

The ferry ride over to Balboa Island was a quick one. Some lightly intoxicated college aged dude was walking around offering free hugs to all of the ladies. He was obviously harmless and having a lot of fun, so nobody seemed to mind and everyone went along with it all. The guy collecting the toll must have gotten a "D" in Math because something just didn't add-up to what he had charged us. It didn't matter though because we were on a mission.

It had been about twenty years since I had ridden the Balboa Ferry and our mission on Balboa Island was the same as it always had been for me, we were seeking a Balboa Bar at Dad's on Marine Avenue. The pedal through the narrow streets was a little tight when vehicle traffic was present, but we made it in one piece. Rebecca and Carrie opted for chocolate sprinkles on their Balboa Bar and I chose cinnamon crunch for mine. They were worth it! As we sat on a bench outside of Dad's, the tiny Catholic Church next door was preparing for a service. I noticed that one of the altar boys had a very SoCal choice in footwear and just had to get a photo of this phenomenon. As I extracted my camera from the case, the procession started to move so I turned the camera on while taking it out of the bag, popped the lens cover and hit the shutter, pointing it off of my hip towards the door of the church.

Wyatt Earp had nothing on me...

The long way off the island seemed like the best choice for the three of us, having just fixed an ice cream jones followed up with some water. Why is it that one gets thirsty after eating ice cream? Looping around Bayfront was a nice pedal when there wasn't any traffic and there wasn't too much really. The ferry ride back to the peninsula was faster than the trip over and the ferry much less crowded. The attendant collecting the fees on the return trip got an "A" in Math.

Once back on terra firma, we moseyed over towards the Balboa Pier, deciding to take a walk on it. While walking out, the amount of fishermen increased and Carrie commented that she had never seen anyone catch a fish on a pier. Rebecca also chimed in that she had not seen a fish caught on a pier either. These words must have been heard by a school of Mackerel just about then because more than a few were suddenly hooked and being pulled up onto the pier. One kid pulled a little one up, unhooked it and let it flop around on the pier locked in a struggle with its own mortality. I was just about to give the little fella a swift kick over the edge when the kid's dad grabbed the fish and dropped it into a bucket with the others they had caught. It hardly seemed big enough to pan fry, but who knows what their intentions were?

Having grown up in SoCal and fished with my maternal grandfather up and down the coast as a kid, I had seen many fish caught by him, myself and others on piers, the shore and from boats. Even so, I did manage a first after Carrie's comment as well. Making our way back to our bikes, I noticed a guy fishing with light tackle and his pole bent tip to tail. Heading over to the edge, I saw what he had hooked. It was a Barracuda that had probably been feasting on Mackerel and had been unlucky enough to bite the wrong chunk of Mackerel. I had never seen anyone catch a Barracuda, let alone on a pier, so it was all very cool to see him haul this 3 ft long dart of a fish with little razorblades for teeth up onto the pier.

Leaving the Balboa Peninsula in the mirror on Carrie's Rollfast, we headed back towards Huntington Beach. By now the wind had subsided sunstantially and was a mere light breeze. The time we spent in the Balboa area had given the wind a chance to calm down pre-sunset, a-la the evening glass-off. The "alley" section was all but deserted and we got to ride three abreast most of the way through it, just enjoying the cruise.

Once in Huntington, it was back to my truck to load the cruisers up and move on to the evening phase of our plan. Parking well North of the pier on 17th Street, the plan backtracked us to the pier on two wheels via the bike path and locking the bikes up in the convenient bike parking under the pier. A quick hike up to PCH and across the street landed us at Fred's for dinner.

The Sun set as we waited for our food to arrive while enjoying cold beverages. While at dinner, Rebecca kept trying to guess the songs that were playing in the restaurant. She's getting pretty good at Classic Rock recognition. Neither Carrie nor Rebecca finished their dinners because they had loaded up on chips and salsa, so we walked out with a couple of bags of food to carry on the bikes for our ride back to my truck.

The last leg of the ride went quickly. The temperature had dropped quite a bit while we were at dinner and the ladies were a tad cold, so we pedaled rather quickly to warm up a bit. Those two were talking up a storm all of the way back while I led out, keeping them in earshot. Rigging the bikes back into the back of my truck was a snap and within 30 seconds of arriving at it, we were on our way.

I decided to take a "long cut" on the way back by driving down Edwards Street Hill. After not having been there since I was a kid when we used to skateboard down it from time to time, it was weird to see how much it had changed. There were houses all over what had once been oil fields and the hill itslef had tranformed from a two-lane to a four-lane road, as well as being "sanitized" into a much less steep hill than it once was. No way could I hit 50mph on a skateboard on what it has become. The times they are a changin'...

All of that fresh air must have been just what the doctor ordered. Rebecca crashed out early and I know Carrie hit the hay right after she let me know she had made it home ok. I wasn't too far behind them, but just *had* to finish Rebecca's burrito and chase it with a Pacifico before cutting a few Zs myself.

Anaheim Angels by Bike

2006-09-16T08:07:00.000-07:00

I love going to baseball games. I don't love the traffic jams associated with baseball games. I do love beating the system as well.

Rebecca, Carrie and I attended an Angel's game last month and did not have to drive in any traffic jams. We parked right at the gate and didn't even have to pay for parking. How did we do this? We parked a few blocks from Anaheim Stadium and rode in on cruiser bicycles.

Of course while one is negotiating the parking lot of any sports venue on a bicycle, they must be extra careful. Keeping an eye out for pedestrians and vehicles is pretty easy if you stay alert. The handlebar bell is a handy tool in assisting pedestrians and motorists of your presence as well and we used them liberally. The way in and out of the Big A parking lot were handled with equal ease and completed with a quiet cruise on the river bike path.

The best parts? Spending the evening with my two favorite girls, field level seats, hot dogs, beer, an Angel's win and not having to pay for parking!

What's up with that?

2006-08-17T14:51:00.000-07:00

I wonder what is going though their minds? I mean, what the hell are they thinking? Yeah, those motorists who are wondering how close they can get to you without actually hitting you. Do they not know the possible consequences of their actions? They could actually kill someone with this "game", or whatever they are up to. Also, do they know exactly who they are doing this to and what that person's background may be?

On the way home after work Tuesday, a ten ton flatbed truck, towing a trailer with a bobcat on it did just that to me. The mirror on the truck must have missed my head by about six inches and the trailer was even closer to clipping my arm as it passed. There was no other traffic in either of the two lanes going our direction and the way the driver was watching his mirror clued me into just how purposeful this ignorant act was. What to do? I showed him his hat size/IQ. That was when the fun really began.

Was this moron thinking he was going to do anything beyond almost killing me? The fact that he pulled over in an attempt to confront me only confirmed just how much of an idiot this turd really was. I was not surprised to see him sporting the mullett of the new millenium, shaved head and goatee on a no-neck beer bellied pig-man. Three swings and he would have to take twenty minutes to catch his breath again. I decided to play a little cat and mouse, taunting him into following me on side streets in that huge rig that was way underpowered and absolutely no match in manueverability to me on a bicycle. I let it go on for about 20 minutes of circling back, darting back and forth, and spinning through residential streets with this fool growing more enraged by the minute. If he had gotten out of the truck, the plan was to lure him far enough away from the truck to allow me to circle back, snatch the keys and ride away. Alas, he was too lazy to exit the truck.

Do I worry about people like this? Not really. I'd give this pig-man another year before he can barely roll his fat ass out of bed, let alone stand toe to toe with the likes of me. The best thing about living in suburbia is that there is more than one way to get from point A to point B. Avoiding pig-man's obvious creature of habit route will be easy, especially since I rarely take that street to begin with.

JD

Punks

2006-07-06T16:38:00.000-07:00

Some people's kids...

So, Carrie and I decided to take a spin around town, on a bike path and through a park on the afternoon of the 4th. As we turned onto the bike path, we could hear some profanities being yelled. Slowing to a stop near two thirty something male walkers, we observed a fifty or sixty something male and four teen males yelling at each other. I asked Carrie to hold up for a minute and asked the walkers what was going on. Apparently the four youths had been vandalizing a sign in the nature style park next to the bike path and the fifty/sixty male was confronting them about their misdeeds. We decided to stick around to see how things were going to pan out.

The fifty/sixty male didn't look completely helpless and I had him pegged for a former member of Uncle Sam's Misguided Children. He wasn't going to back down at all until these creeps had vacated the area. If the youths had decided to throw down on this man, there would have been some van-dammeage on both sides. My sticking around was less of a curiousity and more of a safety net for the fifty/sixty male, though it was entertaining to see these four profane little creeps back down from one man like that.

When the youths had backed far enough down the path, fifty/sixty male broke contact and walked towards those of us who were observing. The youths kept backing out of the park, but their volume increased along with their hand gestures and crotch-grabbing. What also increased was the issuance of racially motivated epithets, along with cries of racism. What was even more strange is that theyse angry youths even began directing their cries and finger-pointing at those of us who were just observing. The hypocrisy was hysterically funny and Carrie and I just laughed at it all.

The fifty/sixty thanked me for sticking around until the situation was diffused enough to not become a physical confrontation. Carrie and I then pedaled down the path to the park and almost immediately saw two police cars parked close by. I told Carrie we should go tell the officers what had just transpired and we did. The officers thanked us and then headed out of the park to contact those silly little creeps.

Later, we saw one of the police cars parked where the path intersects the street the youths had been headed for. The officer appeared to be doing some paperwork, hopefully a few FIR cards to accompany his vandalism report. Angry little buggers like those kids need to be identified. It's akin to shining a light on cockroaches.

JD

Independence Day

2006-07-06T16:37:00.000-07:00

To celebrate Independence Day 2006 and my independence from the car culture, I rode my bicycle home from work with no hands on the handlebars. The streets were empty and I managed to catch every traffic signal green. It was nice.

JD

Conflict Diamonds II

2006-06-21T14:02:00.000-07:00

It wasn't really a conflict because there was no exchange of words, but it was about a nanosecond away from being a physical conflict. Yeah, a gigantorific SUV vs bike conflict, where I as the cyclist would have lost in a big way.

I had stopped at a signal where the two lane street I was on crossed over a four lane street. As I sat there, the aforementioned SUV pulled up next to me with its right turn signal on. The driver looked right at me, right in my eyes even. The light turned green and I started across while looking right at the driver who was again looking right at me, right in my eyes even. Well, doofus proceeds to bury his right foot on the accellerator pedal and then suddenly as if snapping out of some kind of evil VooDoo spell, hit the brakes. I had already started to swerve to the right to get out of this fool's way, but if he had kept his portly leadfoot buried, I might now be well on my own way to being buried. I swerved back and proceeded across the intersection, eyeballing this goon all of the way across.

I'm not sure what gets into people when they get behind the wheel, but it's obviously not a good dose of common sense and/or courtesy in many cases. Change L.A. to Orange County in the below monologue from the film Crash and there just might be an answer there.

It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something.

JD

Memorial Day

2006-05-30T01:00:00.000-07:00

While spinning to work today, I took advantage of the light traffic and used the time to reflect some. It was Memorial Day and I could not help but wonder how many people take the time to think about those who gave their lives at the beckoning of their country, whether in training, or in action.

It seems that to many, Memorial Day is either a three day weekend, or the kickoff of Summer. I find this especially sad when I thought about my good friend Mark Scholl and how he lost his life training for the defense of his country. I also thought about two other men that I had the pleasure of knowing and serving with, Mike Nazionale and Eddy Clark who also lost their lives in training incidents.

I remembered when I first heard the news of Eddy and the other CCT brothers we lost in Spain. We all knew that our career field had a much higher risk factor than just about any other in the USAF, but that kind of news is never truly welcome. Attending the memorial service for Mark, Mike and the others who lost their lives on that UH-60 in Utah is another memory that will never fade. The local newspaper had stated that the service was open only to active duty service members and retirees, however every CCT that decided to attend from past and present was automatically welcomed. No regulation or stipulation could ever break the bond of true brothers in arms, especially when paying respects to their fallen.

My remembering included many who gave their lives in defense of freedom, like my two great uncles who lost their lives in the South Pacific in WWII. I remembered the parade that marked the internment of the Vietnam Unknown Soldier and watching the horse-drawn carriage and flag-draped coffin pass within mere feet of me as the procession made its way to Arlington National Cemetary on Memorial Day 1984. Last and certainly not least, I remembered a man who I never had the pleasure of meeting. A true hero who was publicly not recognized for his deeds for many years because of a "secret" war that was being waged from Laos during the Vietnam War. Chief Etchberger is a true American hero, not just because of the mission, but because of his dedication to his brothers in arms and sheer bravery. He is currently in consideration for the Medal Of Honor and though quite a few years late, most deservedly so.

To tell the truth, I don't just think about my relatives, CCT brothers, or others who have layed their lives down for their country on Memorial Day. I think about them often as I enjoy the freedoms their sacrifices have provided us all.

JD

Bike To Work Day

2006-05-19T15:54:00.000-07:00

I'm torn. Though national "Bike To Work Day" garners a little media attention to let people know some cyclists are on the roadways, I still find it contrived. When I lived in Colorado, I biked to work almost every day. My employer never made any to-do out of my everyday riding, despite my obvious dedication to lessening traffic in that fair city, as well as staying more physically fit. Yet on national "Bike To Work Day" they fed and rewarded all of the once a year bunch with various prizes and other forms of recognition. Am I missing something here?

On my way to work behind the infamous Orange Curtain during this year's national "Bike To Work Day", I saw one other cyclist who was commuting. It was a day laborer who came very close to becoming a hood ornament on a very large SUV who was failing to yield in an intersection. The moronic SUV driver leaned on the horn before flooring it out of the intersection when the day laborer was clear. When this fellow commuter passed by me as I waited for the signal to change, I nodded towards the departing SUV tool and muttered, "pendejos." The guy on the bike just about crashed because he was laughing so hard. Yup, only one other bicycle commuter seen on national "Bike To Work Day".

Friggin' sad.

JD

Scentsitivity

2006-05-12T04:18:00.000-07:00

Riding during Springtime in suburbia has the propensity to be an olfactory delight. Instead of utilizing the main arteries to pedal my way to and from where I am employed, I've been cutting through resedential areas. This has been happening more on the way in, during the balmy evenings when the barbecue grills are most active. Picking out exactly what is being grilled from house to house has become somewhat elementary. Some neighborhoods feature poultry and ground beef almost exclusively, whereas others are overpowered with the waftings of New York Strips and Ribeyes. The occasional eclectic family or individual presents a challenge in deciding if they are grilling lamb, pork, tofu burgers, fish, shellfish or some exotic cuts of wild or ranch raised game. Ribs are easy, though the tough part is deciding what brand of barbecue sauce is being used, or if it's possibly homemade. Arriving at work hungry is something that is going to take a little getting used to, as it is every year around this time.

JD

Tall Bikes

2006-05-05T03:25:00.000-07:00

On a recent trip to visit some friends in Colorado, I had the chance to try out a tall bike. My good friend Jon had fabricated this machine out of two old electro-forged Schwinn frames. The lower frame was a ladies frame aka a step-through and the upper frame looks like a Speedster three-speed frame.

To mount this steed from the left side, one must place their right foot on top of the step-through and get the bike moving by pushing off with the left leg. Once the bike is moving, stand up on the bike with your right foot still in place and move your left foot onto the pedal into the six o-clock position. Next, swing your right leg behind the saddle, place your foot onto the right pedal, and you are on your way. It's even easier than it sounds.

The ride was surprisingly nice. The only imbalance I could see was that the front end was very light. I mean, this thing wheelies with the greatest of ease and looped even easier, as I found out. Even so, when looped, it was easy to control and step right off of the back. Jon rode a 25 yard long wheelie on it right after my demo ride. Cornering doesn't require much lean, but it can be leaned and track stands are surprisingly easy, though can be somewhat dangerous.

Reactions from observers seem to run the full gamut. Everyone seems to have to take a look, or at least a double-take. In riding it around Jon's neighborhood, verbal reactions from "Cool!" to "WTF?!?!" were heard. The positive reactions were definitely more prevalent and came from people from all walks, including hippy dippy tattoo parlor dudes to redneck high schoolers in their giant American pickup trucks.

Jon offered to give me his tall bike to bring back to Orange County, but I declined for a few reasons. The first reason is that I would never take a friend's bike that I know they really enjoy riding. Second is that I don't think Orange County is ready for the tall bike revolution...yet. Lastly, I want to build up my own version of a tall bike made up from Schwinn frames that I have acquired on my own. I'll ask Jon to do the fabrication and it will give me another reason to visit Colorado soon.

It fits.

JD

Conflict Diamonds I

2006-04-20T15:25:00.000-07:00

Conflicts between cyclists and motorists happen, just as motorists have conflicts with other motorists. After a real gem of a conflict with a motorist today, I decided to name all of the entries about my cyclist vs motorist incidents of note as "Conflict Diamonds". Only the true gems will make it into this blog because if I were to put words down on every foolish vehicle manuever that was done in front of me, I'd never get anything else done.

"I had my turn signal on."

That's exactly what she said in response to my disdain for her driving skills after ripping by me and hastily cutting into a parking lot right in front of me. First, she came very close to clipping me while passing. Second, if I had not been paying very close attention and had anticipated this move, she would have at least gotten t-boned by my front wheel.

I managed to keep on the brakes, issue a very loud "WHOAH" and make a nice swerve into the lot without crashing into this foolish person's car. That was when she had the gall to mention her almighty turn signal that apparently allows her to make any asinine manuevers in her blue wheeled coffin with nicotine-stained windows. In response she was informed that if I had been in my pickup truck she NEVER would have even thought about trying that kind of idiotic manuever. Her wheezy emphysemic husband then decided to issue a few expletives while rolling up the passenger window in some strange and feeble attempt to protect himself.

As I started to laugh and pedal away, the driver started screaming at me again about her omnipresent turn signal. I couldn't pass up another round of laughter at their expense, so I turned back and asked her just exactly what she didn't understand about almost injuring me due to her ineptitude. She then issued some expletives of her own and was asked again what her malfunction was. That was when she produced the crown of her security blanket package, the almighty cell phone along with a statement that she was calling the police. I called this "pathetic", which wheezy answered with a "Go to Hell." I answered that with, "You're already in hell, pal...you're sitting in it."

As I was pedaling off and Ms. Almighty was placing her call to the local constabulary, I couldn't help but think how that conversation was probably going:

911: 911, what is your emergency?

Alma: This man just threatened me!

911: Where did this occur?

Alma: In my car!

911: Where is your car?

Alma: In a parking lot!

911: What is the address of the parking lot?

Alma: I don't know! How am I supposed to know that?

911: Look around at the business and name some of them.

Alma: I see a Burger King.

911: What street is that Burger King on?

Alma: How am I supposed to know that?

911: Look at the street sign and tell me what street.

Alma: It's Main Street.

911: Ok, is the person who threatened you still there?

Alma: No, he left.

911: How did he threaten you? Did he have any weapons?

Alma: He yelled at me! I didn't see a gun but he might have had one, you never know.

911: What did he say?

Alma: He said I was a crappy driver!

911: Why did he say this?

Alma: Ihadmyuturnsignalonandhetriedtopassmebythecurbandialmosthithim (gasp) andthenhestartedyellingatmeandmyhusband!!!!

911: What kind of vehicle was he in?

Alma: HE WAS ON A BICYCLE! WHAT ARE YOU, STUPID?

911: Did he make any specific threats towards you or your husband?

Alma: HE YELLED AT US AND IT SCARED US, ISN'T THAT ENOUGH? I WANT YOU TO STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS AND SEND ME AN OFFICER RIGHT NOW!!!

911: Could you describe this man and his bicycle so the officers can look while they are coming to your location?

Alma: HE WAS A MAN ON A BICYCLE! WHAT ARE YOU, STUPID?

911: Ok, we'll send an officer to you.

If you think for one minute that frivilous calls like this aren't constantly placed to 911 centers throughout the USA, go sit in and listen in one sometime. I spent fifteen years fielding calls for real emergencies and calls like this "dramatization". Believe me, the frivilous calls outweigh the real emergencies by at least 100 to 1 in my experience.

I hope her cell phone battery died.

JD

Hypocridiot

2006-04-15T11:45:00.000-07:00

I found a new word to add to my dictionary today. The inspiration was provided by a pickup truck driver, speeding up to a stop sign at a T intersection in a resedential neighborhood next to a school that was getting out. I was on the top of the T approaching on the wrong side of the street in order to avoid crossing over next to the busy intersection a hundred yards further down the street. The driver saw me, knowing there is no stop sign on the street I was on and appeared to be miffed that I was delaying his all-important arrival somewhere. As I passed in front of his gigantic pickup, he started spewing a bunch of garbage about me riding on the wrong side of the street. I turned around and laughed at him as he sped through his right turn and turned left on the next street down, right in front of a vehicle approaching from the other direction. He was a true hypocridiot for a)speeding in a school zone, b)almost causing an accident for failure to yield, and c)having the gall to bitch about a cyclist on the wrong side of the street in a resedential area.

JD

Queen's Royalty Transcends

2006-04-04T17:35:00.000-07:00

Queen's immortality was written in stone years ago due to hit after hit and a reputation for putting on one of the best stage shows in Rock & Roll. The adoption of We Will Rock You/We Are The Champions by sports arenas and teams doesn't hurt their recognition much either. Though Freddie Mercury is no longer of this World, they have transcended back to the stage with Paul Rodgers of Free and Bad Company fame.

The first thing I noticed about the crowd that had gathered outside of Cox Arena at SDSU was its diversity. There were people of all ages and races covered in the mix, which did not surprise me much at all. I helped my fair share in the diversity department by bringing my teenage daughter to the concert as an early Birthday present. There were more than a few other family situations present, including a large percentage of other father/daughter combinations. It was nice to see so many people from different walks of life getting ready to enjoy a Rock Show.

Having read reviews of previous shows on their current USA tour having low attendance, I was wondering how many people would show up for a Saturday night show in San Diego. As the time wound down to the show, it was obvious that this show was going to be close to a sellout. The seats were filled to the bleacher rows at the top of the far end from the stage and the bleachers were filled most of the way back stage left and right. San Diego rocks.

When the lights dimmed, the crowd sprang to life and from my vantage point, I could see Brian emerge from backstage and a roadie hand him the immortal Red Special. This was going to be good.

When the opening riff to Tie Your Mother Down cranked out of the stacks, the roar of the crowd almost drowned it out. Paul Rodgers did a fine job on the vocals and it was apparent right from the start that he was not trying to be Freddie Mercury, but was being Paul Rodgers. Roger Taylor's beat still kept things together and Danny Miranda's bass lines stuck to John Deacon's originals like Krazy Glue. Brian May? Brian May has not gotten older, he's gotten better. In concert, one often wonders if they are listening to a recorded track instead of live because he is so flawless.

The crowd was fantastic. They seemed a little less in tune during the Free and Bad Company songs, but got right in touch when All Right Now was played in the encore. There were a lot of Paul Rodgers fans, easily recognizable by being on their feet when Can't Get Enough and Feel Like Makin' Love were being played.

Take Love was introduced as a new song and is an fine example of what this lineup can really do, highlighting the best of Queen and Paul Rodgers' attributes and making a fine blend in the process. The crowd took it all in and cheered almost as loudly for it as they did the time-proven standards, deservedly so.

Brian's rendition of Love Of My Life was a definite highlight. He sat on a stool at the end of a catwalk that extended into the audience with a twelve string acoustic and had the crowd sing along. Though Love Of My Life is not as recognizable across the diversity board as Fat Bottomed Girls is, Most of those present knew it well and sang heartily.

The high point of the show for me was Lost Horizon. I've been to a lot of concerts and have seen a lot of people play guitar in my forty three years, but have never been so moved by music before. Brian May played Lost Horizon with such soul, it overwhelmed me and made me glad I was sitting down. If I had been standing, it would have made my knees buckle.

I saw Queen on The Game tour at the Forum in LA in 1980 and Dragon Attack was on ther set list for that show. Freddie was Freddie and there is no replacing him, however this lineup covered Dragon Attack with a fervor that would have made Freddie proud. The pounding bass lines and interspersed wails from the Red Special were as tight as they were in 1980.

Brian introduced Under Pressure as a song they "stole from Vanilla Ice". I'm not sure if everyone present got that, but my daughter and I were cracking up along with quite a few others around us. The vocals were handed off for various lines throughout Under Pressure, all handled really well considering neither Freddie, nor David Bowie were present.

Bohemian Rhapsody was presented with the class that Queen fans have come to expect. It started out with a video and recording of Freddie playing piano and singing live with the band joining in and playing along on cue. There was not one butt in a chair in the whole arena for the remainder of the show and the Wayne's World headbang was omnipresent, initiated at the precise moment required.

A phenomenon occured while the crowd was cheering for the encore that was frightfully funny. Instead of the time proven lighters being lit, it was mostly cell phone lights! This wasn't surprising, yet was hilarious just the same. It had obviously been a long time since I had attended an arena Rock Show.

The telltale thump thump clap of We Will Rock You broke the stage silence for the encore and the crowd responded in kind, shaking the arena on its foundation in the process. Paul handled the vocals in his style, fitting into the fold of the beat well. The fans responded with a thunderous WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU right on cue. Brian made his way over to a stage left riser that was a mere twenty feet from where my daughter and I stood and proceeded to rip right into the lead. Rock & Roll doesn't get much better than that.

All Right Now was set in-between We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions, which was the final song played in the show. Yes, they are the champions...of the World. Queen has transcended time and personnel loss to be heard across all walks of life. A Saturday night with them and 10,000 fans in San Diego helped drive that point home for me.

Set List

It's A Beautiful Day
Reaching Out
Tie Your Mother Down
Fat Bottomed Girls
Can't Get Enough
Take Love
Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Love Of My Life
Hammer To Fall
Feel Like Makin' Love
Let There Be Drums
I'm In Love With My Car
Guitar Solo
Last Horizon
Bad Company
Another One Bites The Dust
Dragon Attack
These Are The Days Of Our Lives
Radio Ga Ga
Under Pressure
The Show Must Go On
Bohemian Rhapsody
-----------------
We Will Rock You
All Right Now
We Are The Champions
God Save The Queen

I Scoff

2006-03-28T15:06:00.000-08:00

scoff·law - skäf-'lo
noun
One who habitually violates the law or fails to answer court summonses.

Sounds harsh, doesn't it? I am a scofflaw bicycle commuter. This is not because I fail to answer court summonses, but is due to my disregard for many traffic laws while on my bicycle. My friend Jon calls it invoking the bicycle clause, which allows for indiscretions in certain situations. He wasn't that way before, but was led to the Dark Side by yours truly.

Being a scofflaw commuter is not about blatant disregard for all traffic laws. If it were, I would have been dead a long time ago. It's about common sense and an awareness of one's surroundings.

Who will sit at a red light in the middle of the night and wait for it to turn green when there is no traffic to be seen or heard? Who is going to come to a complete stop on their bike at a four-way stop sign when there is no opposing traffic? Who is going to walk their bike through a crosswalk when on the wrong side of the street? A scofflaw commuter isn't going to do any of those things.

What is a scofflaw commuter going to do? They are going to rip right through the empty street red light and four way after looking and listening. What are we looking for? Traffic and cops. What are we listening for? Traffic and cops. If a cop decides to cite you for not walking your bike through a crosswalk, they have some kind of mental issue. Scofflaw commuters operate on the fringe, scoffing at menial traffic laws in as many ways as they can. Is a cop really going to cite someone on a bicycle for cutting through a parking lot to avoid a particularly nasty intersection? I think not.

While I operate on the fringe where I live and work, the cops leave me be. If they catch me by surprise when I'm blasting through a four-way, I'll not try to ditch them as I did so many times with 100% success as a kid. They'll check my ID and maybe bitch at me a little for being such a scofflaw, but will let me go without a citation. How do I know this? It's already happened once and the cop could have cited me for two stop sign and one red light violations. Now they know I'm not some crazed junkie looking for cars to break into, so the probable cause stops will not happen. I just need to look and listen a little more thoroughly when I scoff...

JD

Thanks

2006-03-21T02:49:00.000-08:00

On the way to work yesterday evening, a motorist thanked me. Apparently the flashing light on the front of my bike was visible over block away. He waited for me to get to the intersection he was waiting to turn left at until I was almost through it. Then he made a point to thank me for making myself visible, which was pretty cool of him. Considering many motorists don't see me in broad daylight, I was impressed that there was even one who could see me at night.

JD

Trashed

2006-03-16T21:31:00.000-08:00

There certainly is a lot of garbage in and on the side of the road in Orange County. Riding a bicycle and having to pay attention to where one's wheels are about to tread creates a connection with the environment that motor vehicle operators can never hope to achieve. This disconnection motorists have might help explain why some of them decide to discard waste onto the streets from their vehicles, but is by no means an excuse. Some places have higher concentrations of refuse and can be chalked up to socio-economic factors, but when it comes to littering, no boundaries are an excuse.

While there is an inordiante amount of garbage on the streets of our fair cities, there appears to be certain by-products that are carelessly discarded more so than others. What type of person consumes these goods? What is their motivation, or lack thereof?

The least obvious but most present discarded item on our streets would be the infamous cigarette butt. Cigarette butts are discarded in two ways onto the streets and it's tough to decide which one is more reprehensible. There is the obvious throwing of a lit cigarette out instead of snuffing it in an ashtray. California's Department of Forestry and Fire Protection Districts are obviously interested in identifying these perpetrators. The other popular method of littering our streets with cigarette butts is the "dump the ashtray out while stopped at a traffic signal". This seems to happen at left turn signals where there is a traffic island more than anywhere else and is most easily identified when fresh by the mound of butts and grey ash that has not blown away by passing traffic yet. Either way, the California Vehicle Code frowns upon littering our roadways, lit or not.
The most visible prevalent items commonly discarded onto our roadways is fast food refuse. That tossed McDonald's cup, or bag of wrappers and half-eaten Big Mac are a sad, yet common sight. The fast pace of the automobile dependency in Orange County has gone a long way to further this fast food nation, which unfortunately includes the tonnage of post-drive through wrappers that litter our streets.
There a simple and obvious answer as to what kind of person decides to litter. In a nutshell, this is the kind of person who lacks pride and is selfish. They lack pride in themselves for being so lazy. They lack pride in their community by making it a less pleasant for others and taxing municipal resources to clean up their mess. They lack pride in their state, country and planet. They are selfish because they don't care about the consequences of their actions, otherwise their conscience would not let them flick that cigarette butt into the dry brush on the side of the road.

JD

Lunacy

2006-03-14T14:16:00.000-08:00

What was up with people last night on my way to work? It seemed like all of the drivers on the road were in an extra hurry for some reason. Where was the fire? What was the rush? What was with all of the honking? This time the "beep beeps" were directed at other drivers, though a pubescent male voice akin to the zit-faced kid character in The Simpsons emitted from a small pickup with dark tinted windows and had something unintelligible (and most likely unintelligent) to say to me. It wasn't even worth turning around to hock a loogie on.

My questions were answered when I took my lunch break at Midnight. If it had not been cold out, I would have taken my shirt off on the way to get some tacos so I could get a nice moontan. The lunatics were out in full force with the Moon waxing to its last moments on the way to being full.

Some "scientific studies" decry the "full moon fever" as myth, but my guess is the persons doing this study were never involved in Public Safety. During my tenure as a 911 Dispatcher, I can honestly say that there is a correlation between the Full Moon and people being out of sorts. Personal experience also showed me that cloud cover had a tendency to keep the lunatics at bay (pun intended for werewolf fans), but if the clouds gave way to clear skies and that big hunk of green cheese started smiling down on its puppets, the strings were immediately yanked.

The Moon had sunk into the horizon before I pedaled home this morning and for this I was thankful. Now that the Moon had shown its face and had made its pawns give up the monthly show of their asses, the streets were just a little safer. While pedaling home, I couldn't help but think of a particular lunatic in Fayetteville, NC. The last time I had spoken with her was the last Full Moon I had experienced as a 911 Dispatcher in that fair city. I could have set my watch by her Full Moon call every month, reporting that her next door neighbor was "looking at me". There was comfort in knowing she isn't driving a car in Orange County.

JD

Pedaling for a Haircut

2006-03-10T19:09:00.000-08:00

Locating a real barber shop in Orange County is a tough prospect, especially finding one in easy cycling distance from home. The stylist chains are so hit or miss, with all of the recent graduates of various cosmetology schools permeating their ranks. You can walk in to those places and never know who is going to cut your hair until you are sat down. Hair salons aren't my bag either, mostly because I don't wish to overpay for a simple man's haircut. Call me cheap, but it's the truth.

There are a few barber shops close by that looked consistent, so I decided to drop into the one that looked the homiest. It wasn't the closest to home, but that didn't matter. There was plenty of room to park my bicycle near the side door without locking it up, or blocking access for anyone entering or leaving the shop. There were a few customers inside waiting for a turn in one of the three antique chairs, all sitting in nice and cushy waiting chairs with plenty of elbow room. The lone barber was busy finishing a cut on a young man in his 20's who looked like he might have been active military on leave. I didn't mind waiting.

One of the other customers waiting was conversing with the young man in the chair about the military. The waiting customer engrossed in this conversation was an elderly gentleman in his 80's who looked and sounded a lot younger. The story he was relating to the young man in the chair was about his flying fighters in WWII for the US Navy. His British accent would have been the only thing to bely the sound of a true American Patriot from this man. I enjoyed listening to his story, as well as the subsequent anecdotes he related while taking his turn in the chair. People who dismiss the elderly just because they look/sound/are old don't know what they are missing. The wait was made intriguing and entertaining.

This place where men gather is adorned with the usual barber shop decor. Sports memorabalia is a mainstay, especially Angels baseball photos and plaques. A 21" television on one side of the shop has a sign over it stating something to the effect that there was no liability if "the game is on". The Barber is a season ticket holder for the Angels. The most interesting inanimate items in the shop are the chairs themselves. The cushions are definitely not original, but the metal base, frame and mechanicals were obviously made in a time long gone, when things were built to last with minimal care. The wait was almost not long enough to take it all in.

My turn in the chair arrived after another elderly gentleman had taken his turn in the chair and conversation. I didn't feel too chatty as the Barber worked his way around the mop on top of my head, but made a few interjections during pauses in the ongoing topics as I had during my entire visit. There is a strange sense of community in this place that no other barber shop I had ever been in has had. I enjoyed it, almost to the point of looking forward to my next haircut. The wait never dwindled the whole time I was there, at about four or five customers deep. My turn in the chair ended and I paid the Barber for his services while the next customer slid into the chair. I pedaled away with the cool breeze hitting my scalp like it had not done so for about two months and couldn't help but think that I had gotten a great bargain on the whole experience, including the tip.

JD

Beep Beep

2006-03-10T07:57:00.000-08:00

I can't help but think of the song by The Playmates about the Little Nash Rambler when I hear a "beep beep" directed at me while riding my bicycle. Whomever is behind the wheel and feels the need to attempt to warn, scare or make me move out of the street with their horn is just a Little Nash Rambler to me. The operators of these vehicles who choose to "beep beep" me are normally not very large in stature, unless large is solely defined by obesity. These operators are all "Little" in that their narrow little minds can not fathom why a bicycle is using the roadway. Automobiles do not own the roadway and in fact bicycles have just as much right to be there as they do. "Little" minds just don't get it.

Last week, a motorist decided to be "Little" with me by "beep beeping" and swerving dangerously close in passing. What he failed to see with his "Little" mind was that the four way stop ahead was about fifteen cars deep. The look on his "Little" face said it all when I pulled up next to him and asked if he had a problem. This "Little" man hit the electronic lock and proceeded to display his middle finger. A true hero. After informing him that he would never muster the intestinal fortitude to display his "Little" finger outside of the comfort of the gigantic pickup truck he was piloting, I pedaled towards home.

While tooling down the street, I could not help but think about another nostalgic item from my past. As a kid, I had a poster of the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote. Wile E. Coyote was depicted with his hand around the Roadrunner's neck and the poster's caption was "Beep Beep, Yurass!" Ending any day with a chuckle that good has been a great day.

JD

Near Miss

2006-03-02T18:03:00.000-08:00

Are bicyclists really invisible? On my way to work this evening, an SUV driver came very close to plowing into me as I legally and cautiously ventured across a controlled intersection. I'm not sure what they saw, but obviously didn't see a 6'-7" whiteboy wearing a light colored vest on a bicycle with a flashing headlamp right in front of them in waning evening light. The dark tinted windows did not allow me to see the driver. Could it have been the illegally tinted windows that impaired this person's view, or were they engrossed in themsleves and their own little cell phone world? I didn't even want to know.

When I saw the vehicle accelerate into the intersection as I was crossing, my feet became more heavy on the pedals and ass lighter on the saddle in preparation for a leap onto their hood. I'd much rather dent their hood and get bruised a little than get fully smacked. They can always buy me a new bike. They did manage to stop about three feet from me when the realization hit them that there was some dude about to jump onto the hood of their vehicle. We mustn't get our paint scratched, or our hood dented.

I did glance back to see them having made a left turn after the near miss. It seemed that they were shaken, not stirred because people usually haul ass up the street they turned onto and they were creeping along. Good.

JD

Flat Again

2006-03-01T14:40:00.000-08:00

It's a well known mythical fact that flat tires on a bicycle comes in streaks. I'm not sure what got me this time, but it was not as sudden as the nail incident. It started as a "tick tick tick" noise with the rotation of the tires, accompanied by a slight hiss. Knowing those sounds all too well from many years of cycling, I gunned it. Being only halfway home and not wanting to fix a flat on the road before hitting the hay, gunning it was the best option. Someone up there likes me at least a little because the one traffic signal that could have held me up long enough for the tire to go completely flat was green. Even so, I didn't make it all of the way home.

What to do a half of a mile from home? I had someone time me on fixing a flat while mountain biking once and took less than two minutes to pull the wheel, extract the tube, check the inside of the tire case, throw another tube in, inflate the tire (with a Co2 inflator), pop the wheel back on and stow my gear. I don't race, but have changed a lot of flats. That said, my commuter bike has neither the luxury of quick releases, nor the light weight of most of my other bikes. Fixing the flat would have taken longer than pushing the bike home, so I pushed.

After waking up in the afternoon, it was time to fix the flat. I still couldn't tell what had gotten me this time. An educated guess would have been glass though because whatever had stuck in the tire and ticked did not sound metallic. So, it took me five minutes to fix a flat on the commuter bike and then it was off to the grocery store and survive yet another afternoon on the goofy streets of Orange County.

JD

Nailed!

2006-02-19T16:51:00.000-08:00

Murphy's Law is alive and well in Orange County. I've been making the three mile bicycle trip back and forth to work since September with nary a mechanical problem. That all changed in an instant last week. Sure it was bound to happen, but the when, where and how were less than convenient.

The usual Tuesday evening pedal to work was pretty much the standard trip, passing cars backed up at stop signs and signals, only to have those drivers bury their foot and pass me only to have me pass them again at the next traffic control device. I'm always thankful that I don't have to pay their fuel bills. While many don't understand why a licensed driver who owns a vehicle would choose to ride a bicycle, I'll never understand why people accelerate towards a red light or stop sign. It's a wonderful World. Just past the halfway point on my chosen route was an unsually dark section of roadway. The weak LED headlight that blinks on the front of my cruiser does not illuminate the road as well as it alerts drivers of my presence, so I missed a piece of road detitrus that made my back wheel hop a bit and then the unmistakable sound of a tube popping and air rapidly escaping. The trouble-free streak was over that quickly.

Decision time was less than a second. I didn't have a spare tube or patches with me, so it was easy to decide to push my disabled vehicle to work. Do that with a car or motorcyle for a mile and a half. I quickly found out that topsider shoes don't work very well for walking at a rapid pace for more than a hundred yards or so. No biggie, as I had plenty of time to get in and there was sidewalk of the way in.

I arrived at work five minutes before my required showtime and settled in to the usual evening array of troubleshooting and standard tasks without a second thought about my transportation situation. I did have to adjust my break to fit the operational hours of the eateries that are close by, but it dovetailed nicely with the normal system back-up time that is normally a slow period. When things slowed way down for the night, I had a little time to check the bike out and then formulate a plan to remedy things.

The foreign object in question turned out to be a nail of the sort that is shot from a pneumatic nail gun.

The head had gone in first and the sharp end was pointing out. The tube was shredded, so patches would not have helped any, even if I had some with me. I decided to walk home after work and come back with a wrench, tube and pump later. I also decided to carry the aforementioned items with me on my commute from now on and that I had been very lucky to this point with all of the discarded crap and debris that litters the roadways here.

JD

Who commutes by bicycle?

2006-02-15T07:25:00.000-08:00

I am a Commutant. Why a Commutant? A better question would be why do so many able-bodied people in OrangeCounty California drive everywhere they go? That's easily answered though because the car culture that has been created by the infrastructure over the years is very sound. I am a Commutant because of my choice to ride a bicycle in a veritable ocean of car culture, regardless of my age, gender, race, social class, bicycle choice and riding gear.

The most obvious trait of a Commutant is the fact that they commute to and from their place of employment by bicycle. Sure, my commute is only three miles each way and the self-styled hardcore commuters might scoff, but the fact remains that I do ride a bicycle to commute. For me, even a quick trip to the neighborhood taqueria, or weekly grocery junket is completed on two mechanized wheels. Why jump in my truck to drive a half of a mile when I don't have to?There is no set age, gender or race for a bicycle commuter. It is true that certain types are more apt to be a bicycle commuter, but not by their own choosing in most cases. This is where the slippery slope of political incorrectness comes into play in describing what I mean by social class. Not pulling any punches, most bicycle commuters behind The Orange Curtain are either Chuntaros, Bums, and DUI Bikers who care if they get caught driving illegally. A Commutant is not forced to ride a bicycle and probably has one or more internal combustion conveyances at home. That is where the base word "mutant" comes into play. Those who fully embrace the car culture just don't seem to understand why anyone with a car would ride a bike, even a quarter of a mile to mail a letter. Silly, isn't it?

What does a Commutant ride? It really doesn't matter what a Commutant rides, as long as it's a solid and dependable bike that's kept well tuned. Some may call this snobbery, but those pieces of junk that are sold at Wally World are not solid, nor are they dependable. First off, those are cheaply manufactured of shoddy materials and adorned with the cheapest componentry possible. Second, those are assembled by persons who are not even close to be qualified to work on today's bicycles. A solid bike could be anything from an original Chicago Schwinn Sting-Ray to a full customTitanium track bike. I see other Commutants on everything from old Schwinn Cruisers to Breezer's new line of commuter bicycles.

Functional riding gear is nice and I don't blame the long-range commuters for going with cycle specific gear. For the short range commuter however, it just doesn't make sense to put spandex shorts and a jersey on. Having a functional work wardrobe in the form of more loose-fitting clothes, accompanied by weatherproofing to fit the forecast works just fine. Wardrobe goes a long way in differentiating a Commutant from one of the aforementioned disqualified social groups. I've yet to see any of the "forced" cyclists wearing Dockers and a polo shirt, or spandex and a jersey.

This may or may not clear the air as much as some may need to understand, leaving room for further clarification in future entries.