To Wed?

Ordinarily not a problem, but I wasn't sure how to lug an entire tire to the tire store via bicycle.

Give me a second, I'll figure it out...it's round for Pete's sake.

Cuz you know I want to lock my bicycle to this sign!

The Long and Bumpy Road

Life is not always what it seems. What's that saying...better safe than sorry? You don't always know and you're not always right. Everything I ever needed to know I learned from my bicycle.

I got lost. Then, I got a flat. Or did I get a flat and then lost? Either neither, neither either; let's call the whole thing *cough*

Regardless, I whacked my back wheel. HARD. You know the kind, where you obsess about the pressure for the next 8 blocks. You glance back, you question the air, you actually stop, dismount, and push on the tire. Yeah, like that.

Lo and Ecce! I was ridin' on the rim. Did I mention late? I was also L7. So I tried the down and dirty: pump 'er back up. Back on the rim in two. Gonna have to pit it.

So I strip the tire, yank the tube, and....hesitate. The conscientious cyclist would check the tire for punctures; you know, run your hand along the inside to feel for glass and sharp matter. But this was a pot hole casualty and I was pumping the pavement. I needed to make like Opal.

But I stopped, and humored myself. I ran my fingers over the rubber. *ouch* What the? Industrial staple. Chomping on my tube. I may have whacked my wheel, but the tube held. It wasn't a pot hole after all, but a sharp metal object that flattened my kicks.

So let that be a lesson, or two, or three. First, don't assume that you know. You don't know what you don't know to quote Rumy. Second, take your time do it right, so says SOS Band. And thirdly, look thoroughly for the problem and find a way to fix it. Who said it? Aren't you listening...I'm saying it!

A Puppy In The Road

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that, the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

two roads diverged in a wood, and I --

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

Thanks For That

Let’s talk etiquette. Race day fan etiquette.

1. Try not to step on feet…runners are gonna need theirs and I don’t want you on mine.
2. Port-0-Johns at the start line pre-race should be for runners. Could you maybe hold it 10 more minutes so a racer isn’t late?
3. Tall in back, short in front. Really just apply this across the board.
4. Stay off the course, especially en masse.
5. If your racer is 2 hours away, yield the curb Biotch

Okay seriously, this will cover the next 5 and pull up a chair:

Most of us are out there to see a runner. There are 30,000 runners. I know it’s important to see each other, I’ve been on both sides. But there are 30,000 runners. Chances are you are trying to see ONE. I am also trying to see ONE.

Finding each other is key. Your tall funny hats are great and cute…get in back! You’ve seen your runner….get in back! Your sign, oh your sign! Just get in back!

Seriously, your sign is huge. You are standing in front, in the course, with a HUGE sign over your head. I just missed 15 runners because of you. My photo opportunity….not even photoshop can solve this one.

I know it says RUN BRIAN RUN. Rude. 30,000 runners, you’re blocking 50 other fans’ views, and your sign isn’t even generic? Meanwhile runners are passing, missing their support, and it may cost them the race. Thanks for that.

Is Brian even near? I suppose some Brian could be, at least it’s not Haliz-Ewan. I started keeping track; I saw quite a few. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to pink slip your sign!

Oh, and balloons? Good like tall goofy hat. Get in back! If a runner has to duck to avoid your prop and again and again….you are in the course, rude, selfish, and need to
GET IN BACK

I am so not a fan.

Soyce

That's using your feet?

I would have gone further but my thumbs got tired. Thumbs. They haven't the practice of being heels.

Seems somewhere between P1 and 2 my gloves got displaced. Misplaced? Replaced.

You do what you can to get by. Funny thing is I think they may have been warmer than most of my gloves. Then again, it's wasn't that cold.

Can someone take my picture? Anyone? Anyone?

Carwinian Effect

You are going to want to sit down for this one. I am about to spit one for the automobile.

I champion pedestrian safety maybe more than the next guy, but even I have my limits. There is a difference between accident prevention and protecting stoopid.

Here's a thought: if you're gonna jaywalk, be smart about it. If you are wearing an ipod, molesting your phone, or just plain NOT looking, I should get to hit you. No questions asked.

OK, maybe not. But I'm just saying....and I know I'm not alone in this. And really, me, the quiet, pedaling pixie poses much less threat than the clunky car careening down the street.

That you would hear, right? I mean if you weren't jammin' an ipod and getting to second with your cell. But a motorless bicycle slips right by; while you note, you'd notice an automobile noising through the neighborhood.

Have you ever heard of a Hybrid? Amazing. More efficient, less pollutant. Air and noise. Did you hear that? No, I don't guess you did. It's a Hybrid, and it's quiet. Really quiet.

Yeah, wait it out. Enough idiots will step in their paths that Nadar will step in and make them crash Dummy proof. Soon enough Prii will come with sidewalk sirens--standard.

So much for Survival of The Fittest. Passing on your LEFT!

SOP

Shitty Or Priceless. How would you define your life? What is it worth? An extra 5 minutes? One dollar off?

Metro prides itself on safety and has been eating crow. They have been throwing employees under the bus. Their union stood up and said no.

They are reverting back to Standard Operating Procedures. At the cost of time?!? But bikers will beat the buses. Are they crazy, bosses don't understand. They never do.

Unions are in place to protect America. Not just the workers, but you and me. The UAW ensures that cars are made in a safe manner. IBEW keeps electricity flowing safely. The ILGWU made sure wardrobe malfunctions never popped out a nipple during a half time show.

SAG gives us good entertainment. WGA makes sure of it. When they strike, we suffer. Or get amazing things like Dr. Horrible. It's a win win win so to speak.

But we sacrifice safety for convenience. I for one am glad to see SOP back on top; it was created for a reason. And I will ride 14th a little more confidently instead of wrestling with Merto buses. I hope it sticks.

=equal=

Almost 20 years ago I marched on Washington with my girlfriend. She was a lipstick lesbian who protested everything. I had an L on the breast of my shirt, but I popped in and out of the closet like an episode of Laverne and Shirley.

I saw an S & M group behind the White House. I gawked at cross dressers. I questioned why such a small group excluded bisexuals. I watched the media circle the freaks. The NPS play down the numbers. Governor Clinton make his rounds. That was before he didn't ask and we didn't tell.

Two decades later we are still fighting the same fight. I lost the girlfriend, married, and divorced. I lived the legal life. It ain't all it's cracked up to be. The gays aren't destroying what the homo sapiens have already exploited.

Today I still refuse to define myself. Labels are for clothes and clothes live in closets. But I was a flag flying fag friend all the way up 14th Street. People looked, they smiled, they honked. No more stone throwing, threats, or curses. I would have proudly held my girlfriend's hand.

We fight the same fight, but times have changed. People are people and families all look the same. No one wants a bedroom policed. Everyone wants to be loved. How is this still an issue?

BKEWEEE

Makes me want to drive more.

Lit Out Of Luck

I don't care what they say, I got skills. Mad Skillz. Crazy McGyver skeels.

I can make fire with a stick. I can make dinner with condiment packs. I can make love outta nuthin' at all. Out of nuthin' at all!

I can fashion safety from a flashlight, zip ties, and foam. But back lighting will kill you. It ain't a lick a good under the burning ball of gas of day.

You can show a man a stop sign and teach him how to brake. But you gotta make him look. Mission Accomplished. One simple, loud HEY! Late, but he looked. Stopped dead in the street and looked me straight in the eye. And put it in reverse.

First I watched him yield through a stop, turning right, looking the same, never stopping, never looking left. See, I'm smarter than the average gas pedal. I knew what he was up to.

Then I screamed in his open window as I rolled up on his driver's side door. I know how to use my brake. He froze, there in the street, looking at the cyclist he almost turned into Flat Stanley.

Thanks for that!

Rue Knowles

Trail Bail

Here’s a thought. You get so mad when I’m not utilizing the trail. Unfortunately the trail speed limit is 15mph.

It has come to my attention that DC drivers rarely have the opportunity to travel at speeds greater than 15mph. In fact oftentimes you all drive under 5mph.

I’m willing to share. Feel free to drive on the trail. I mean sometimes you guys drive on the sidewalk; go on, take the trail. Remember 15 mph and you still have to yield to pedestrians.

We’ll take the road. You take the trail. Let me know how that works out. I mean you always want to know why we aren’t on it. Figure out how to get to work and the store and a doctor’s appointment… hell get me a bikable google map.

Have fun.

Enjoy The View

The worst offenders are always in the park. The scenic park. Perhaps it's the existence of a bike trail? To me that's like apples and oranges. Sidewalks versus trails. I don't hike on a sidewalk and I certainly ain't waiting for a bus in the forest.

It was Rock Creek. Non Rush. Not that it matters. No side trail. NOT THAT IT MATTERS.

Yet there it was, from behind, like always, the all too familiar *#honk!@* Oh really? You don't say. When, without pause, as if it were premeditated and expected, I removed my weapon from its holster and armed myself to shoot.

A van passed. I took aim and took my shot. Wrong vehicle. My bad. I bet it's this one nudging me into the forest. Me on the line, him in his lane as if a vulnerable, innocent human being weren't balancing on the non existent white line.

"Dumb Shit!" out the window as his side mirror grazes my bag. "Say Cheese!" I think as I snap Exhibit A. He never slowed, never yielded, caught in my digital pixel.

A third car passes, gently, but not without commentary. An arm extends from the passenger side window. "You too?" I'm just trying to turn in my paperwork to get my Share The Road license plates, which apparently I need on my bicycle. Please!

But wait! As I'm weighing my finger retaliation options I notice a thumb. He's not flipping me off he's applauding my effort! Thumbs up for the picture taking pixie. Back at you buddy, thanks for the support!

For the record this isn't a joy ride, it's my commute. And this ain't Utrecht! Build me a trail network and we'll talk. Currently it's like a fish without a bicycle. Until then if you aren't on the beltway, enjoy the view.

Sister Hazy

And how dare you not remember?
And how dare you walk away?

And I wanted you so much
Just like I do right now
I wanted us to be the one
The poets write their books about

I wanted it to last
I wanted to grow old
But life got in the way


What's a biker to do, but roll with it

CAReFREE

Timbuk2 and Beyond!

News To Me

13 and a half years ago I plopped myself down in a chair in front of a monitor and 6 tiny teevees. I had 6 red plungers that lit up when I mashed them as some unseen voice beckoned, “ROLL”.

Sitting back in my tiny, black cove swallowing the day’s news was challenging. Story after story, face after face. When I went home at night and closed my eyes I could still see a 2 ½ inch version of the missing girl of the week.

Names like Shaquita Bell, Joyce Chiang, Caity Mahoney, Sophia Silva, and Kristin and Katie Lisk still hang in my broadcast cache. Serial killing was hot that year. Andrew Cunanan and Richard Evonitz claimed more than their allotted 15 minutes of fame.

“Two boys in 1999 walked into their high school heavily armed emptying countless shells along the way dropping classmates like flies. Columbine, Paducah, Mississippi, Georgia, Nickel Mines, VaTech.

Brazill, Tate, Mangum, Abraham. “These kids committed crimes that were brutal…that doesn’t make them adults. It just makes us wish they were—and wish we could lock them up forever and forget them.”

The Capitol shooting, Holocaust museum, Muhammad and Malvo. "Be still and know that I am God." Sarah Ramos, Conrad Johnson, Premkumar Walekar, Sonny Buchanan, Lori Rivera, Pascal Charlot, Linda Franklin, Dean Meyers, Kenneth Bridges. Iran Brown.

September 11th. Hurricane Katrina. Princess Diana. Monica Lewinski. OJ Simpson. 2000 Election. Part II. Saddam Hussein. Afghanistan, Iraq. What’s that terrorist’s name? The first black President.

Abortion, gay rights, stem cells, torture, corruption, domestic violence, hate crimes, cancer, aids. Olympic Bombing, Elizabeth Smart, Jonbenet, Annika in PGA, Larry Craig, Martha Stewart ex-con.

Joe Gibbs, Pettibon, Norv Turner, Robiskie, Schottenheimer, Steve Spurrier, Gibbs, Zorn. Hike.

Black Oscars, Janet’s Super Bowl nipple, Ellen’s gay, Greta Van Susteren’s new face. Dan Rather steps down, Walter Cronkite dies, Jay Leno leaves. Lance Wins Seven, Chastain Bears Bra, Granato Grabs Gold, WNBA Forms, WUSA Folds.

Johnny Carson, Jack Paar, Charles Schulz, Hanna of Barbera, Peter Jennings, Mother Theresa, Pope John Paul II, Ronald Reagan, Michael Jackson, Ray Walston, Dave Thomas, David Brinkley, Yasser Arafat, Christopher Reeve, Maude, The Joker, Johnnie Cochran, Ossie Davis, Bernie Mac, James Brown, Rosa Parks, Coretta Scott King, Anna Nicole, Kurt Vonnegut, Tammy Faye, Pavarotti, Charlton Heston, Patrick Swazye, Teddy Kennedy, Alice Swanson.

What Strays In Texas Stays In Texas

I don’t cheat, not even at solitaire. I mean I’m not much of a mono-anything…monotonous, monotheistic, monophobe, monodactyl, monogamous…

Well, there was this one time at RAAM camp…But that was one time, one instant, somewhere in the middle of Texas. It was 108 degrees; it wasn’t my fault. But typically I'm pretty faithful.

Imagine my surprise when a complete stranger propositioned me. There I was sweaty and wet, helmet head no doubt, looking pretty ragged and he wants to take me to bed? What’s a girl to think? Do I or don’t I?

I was flattened, well, almost. There he was at a side street, me on a heavily traveled, slightly congested road; you may have thought he didn’t even see me. Oh, that’s what I thought.

So when he pulled out in front of me so close I could spit in his open window, I yelled, “HI!” And you won’t believe this, he said, “HI,” back! I know!

I don’t know, maybe it was me; maybe I hit on him first. I DID initiate the conversation. He certainly TRIED to hit on me. And he flashed his hecock feathers and flirted across the street…two lanes of traffic, horns honking. I threw him one more line, “You are pulling out in front of me!”

That’s when it happened. Those two little words a lonely girl longs to hear…”FUCK YOU!” Isn’t he sweet? How romantic.

Katyak

OH! I didn't think you'd really want to keep

jbugs out with a cockpit cover, but now I get it!

Katyak: yeah, it's like that.

Mettle

I am not a religious person, but I am spiritual. Be assured there is no Church in this state. I won’t preach my case, I’ll simply say my god has but a wee g.

-Wee g. Teehee, insert unintentional laugh here. Wee-g. haha-

I believe in energy. I can express it through color. I believe it interacts with other energy and creates life. Some call this karma. Some fate. But you do have control.

It also interacts with street lights. I turn them off a lot, A LOT. I don’t think this is good. Perhaps my energy level is low or bad and it sucks the energy right out of the lamp. Lately I’ve turned a few on, but additionally I’ve turned more off.

I feel like my energy is yellow, but it needs to be orange. Orange is change. It also feels a little blue, light blue, and that is a good thing.

I might not have a job, but I will always tuck myself into my own bed every night. Not everyone does. A man came up to me tonight and asked for spare change.

“Brother, all I got is change.”

5 Sets 3 Operators

Even machines will fail.
grrrr

Keep Yer Feet Offa Our Street

Hell NO, Walking's SLOW! The overwhelming message painting the lawns of this anti-green street: Not In Our Neighborhood.

We don't want your fat kids sweating 'round our yard. Keep your pup's unmentionables out our hood. Bring your stinking 'hicles and drive as fast as you like; we don't encourage pedestrian activity and we don't aim to hide it.

We don't have sidewalks, speed bumps, slow humps, tables, or stripes. Sick of hitting pedestrians in crosswalks? No worries...we ain't got none. Come to town and mow 'em down. Law's on your side.

Go on and stick that foot up our asphalt, cuz we ain't budgin' our precious lawns. And we sure ain't shovelin' no sidewalks.

ADA be damned. Sidewalk Smidewalk Assurance Act my ass. Keep your concrete offa our feet! We pay a lot of money for our nicely manicured lawns. You can stick your stimulus up someone else's grass!

Peripheral Angel

Git your shit and git out.

That dude is wearing an armchair as a helmet. I'm just noticing. I'm just saying. He really is. No joke. In case you missed it.

Which brings up a brilliant point in these tough economic times. What do we bike commuters do when our bosses herd us into their offices at completely random times in our lives and hand us the proverbial pink slip, which by the way is no longer pink nor a slip as times turn green.

How do we gather our clothes, our tupperware, our boxes of contacts and photos and notes from our nieces, not to mention our egos, and sling them upon our backs to pedal our teary eyes home after learning the fate of our carefully crafted careers??

If only we all had a guardian angel to run along side us making sure we continue on straight without running ourselves right off the path or into another biker. Because it's hard to see with tears in your eyes and an armchair on your head. I would suspect.

Although perhaps, it's not necessarily a good idea to start removing office furniture in order to make up for the lost wages. I'm just saying, merely mentioning, offering friendly advice...

Itsa

Look it's a car, no it's the moon, no silly it's a biker. I have no idea what it was; too much light makes the biker go blind.

There is too much of a good thing. If you just let your eyes adjust to the dark you can see just fine. The moon IS full. It's bright outside, really.

But if your headlamp is blinding me you aren't being very polite. I can't see I tell you! Great for you. But what do you think that does to a motorist? Do you really want to blind someone driving a car directly at you?? Did you think this through when you had to have the biggest, brightest, 'best' light?

And let's talk about the walkers. You know 'em. They are the ones that let you have it in the daylight. That yell and lecture about yelling LEFT. They speak of not knowing you are there and how they want to be alerted to your presence...

Hmmm....and do you think they thought that through as they meandered through the darkness ?? As I barrel down the dimly lit path into on coming waaaaaalkers! YIKES!

Sorry....LEFT you for dead in the middle of the path, I hope they can find your dark clothed ass. You should really carry a bell.

Have You A Box In Your Pocket?

This is a box. Not just any box, a coveted, white bowed, blue, Tiffany box. If you are of the double x chromosome variety you knew this 27 words ago.

Never listen to a girl if she says she doesn't care about jewelry, fanciness, or names on the box. When it comes to holding a Tiffany box all bets are off.

But it's not just the bow, the box, or the name...it is backed by quality. Just so you know. And all girls know, so you are making a statement.

But this isn't about that. This is about the guy I saw proudly carrying a 12 pack of Bud Lite through Friendship Heights.

For the love of Christ man, pay the $0.05 bag tax and cover that shit up! This is Friendship Heights not some great American trailer park!

Tiffany is perched on the other side of the hill. Tell me, please tell me, you have another blue box tucked in your pocket with some 14k earrings for your girl and all you had left was a couple bucks for Bud, forget the Grape Nuts Flakes.

Congratulations! You spent your last 14 thousand dollars on a little blue box. There isn't a song for that, but yeah you! I'd even toast you with that lousy generic beer. It comes with a free glass of water. But not a free plastic bag.

I Paid For That!?

Here’s a thought: don’t waste your effort on the obvious.

Of course if you run over a person standing in the middle of the street there is going to be a BUMP. The sign is unnecessary and bad advertising. It's not good for a county's image to encourage this type of behavior.

A much more effective sign might read GLASS to alert cyclists to fade left to avoid potential blowouts. This would also alert motorists to watch for weaving riders. This would in turn cause them to avoid BUMPs in the road.

But alas my tire was slashed. If I lived in PG County and drove a car I would be page 3 of the 5 o’clock news. If I lived in PG County I would naturally assume there is always glass on the shoulder.

“Someone slashed your tire!?!”

“Yeah, well I rode over some glass really. What! Somebody put it there on purpose!”