Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Three Wishes

When I was a little kid I used to tell my Mom to make me a sandwich.

She would say, "Poof! You're a sandwich."

Now I'm waiting to buy a car until I'm satisfied with green technology.

The moral of this tale is Be careful what you wish for. You only get THREE wishes.

At this rate you'd have to use the third to undo the previous two that left you a sandwich driving a pollen painted car.

You should wish for a really hot bicycle, er a cool one, how about just a bicycle! Pedal, pedal, pedal....

Sunday, April 26, 2009

No Tread On Me

Without bikes it is hardly heaven, but it is a passageway I have heard about my whole life. I just never imagined it actually existed. I thought it was just a country idiom, not unlike 'when pigs fly'. I never really expect to see flying pigs.

And I never expected to find the corridor 'as the crow flies'. It's not listed as an option on Google Maps, but it should be. It's beautiful, nestled between the Beltway and its carlesterol clogged arteries.

It was like walking through a wardrobe and ending up in Narnia. Without the scary, grabby trees of course. Don't let the snake fool you; there was one in Eden's garden too.

And since you brought it up...if Adam and Eve were the very first couple, who the hell was Eden and how did she get her garden to grow so fast? Sketchy.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Inverted Extrovert


!SEY DIAS EHS EPOH I

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

My Daddy's Hands

Boys will be boys. Sometimes we girls have to just let them be. No doubt you’ll hear this again: pick your battles wisely.

Boys like to fix things: a squeaky door, a leaky faucet, a broken heart. WD40, a wrench, a screwdriver, these are the tools of their trade.

They don’t like manuals, but they do like rules and parameters. They obsess over them. There is no room for opinion, preference, or democracy.

Therefore I know when I take my bike into the shop it will be returned exactly how I don’t want it. My mechanic does it every time. The last guy I dated did the same thing. That didn’t last.

I know my brakes are high, that’s how I like them. I've been on the bike before. I've used the brakes. I get that it’s ‘wrong’. They don’t understand it’s what I like. Some of them will never listen to what we like.

I watched a boy move your brakes too. I thought, no wait, I can’t tell you what I thought, you are 4. But I thought, she’s not gonna like that!

Your daddy made me change it back. I told you I am the same way. It happens every time.

Everything I didn’t learn in school, I learned from a kindergartner. You told me you couldn’t reach. You know what, you were right.

I have my daddy’s hands and they probably do reach, but many girls would need to cheat those brakes up. I never thought about it before. I just know to leave things as I found them.

That’s probably going to be one you’re gonna wanna fight. It’s not about leaving the seat down, it’s more important to leave it as you found it.


Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Admit One

Seating Capacity 300
I miss the last minute release of the schedule. The rush to get tickets. The process in which to get tickets.

I miss the tiny, cramped theaters in obscure corners of the city. The stress of catching Metro after the late showing at The Georgetown. The inability to see the entire lower third of the screen.

I miss the Post Stamp, un-affectionately, yet appropriately named due to its tiny box appearance. Where half the audience craned their necks upward to see the screen and the other half craned them sideways around the poles. Where all of them could only see half of the subtitles.

I miss the mediocre production quality, the poor audio, and the translation that didn’t quite translate. Okay, I only kinda miss those things, but I mostly miss the lack of the omnipresent Production House steering the plot of the film.

I miss the Outer Circle. The Tenley Circle. The Georgetown. I even miss Visions Bar Noir, but it wasn’t the same. Here, here to the richies that brought back The Avalon.

I miss the challenge of catching a film. Getting in, getting a seat, getting to see. The reward of actually picking a decent flick. The satisfaction of catching a gem you know you’ll never be able to see again.

Let’s be honest, I miss everything I complained about. I also miss penny candy, double features, drive ins, and popcorn I don't need a loan to buy. I will admit it’s nicer, but define better.

Monday, April 20, 2009

No Longer Cross

I’ve been yelled at. Chased. Scared. Honked at. Stalked. Almost hit. Twice. By a Metro bus. Turning right on red. I had the green.

I hate this intersection. See above. I will not run the light. That is I used to not run the light. Now I cross my fingers and hope. The alternative is to ball up roadside and call it a night.

On October 20, 2008 the way the light functions changed. Why do cyclists run red lights? Sometimes they have no choice.

I was suddenly unable to trigger the light green. Even if I happened upon a car at precisely the right point, the light was unforgiving. I could barely get booth feet on the pedals before it immediately turned red again.

Then, the crosswalk was broken several weeks later. It has remained my nightmare ever since. I even took my chances riding the trail home sometimes. It became a safer alternative.

Thank you MoCoDOT. I am pleased to report all is well in the land of bicyclette.



Sunday, April 19, 2009

Green Mechanics

At the Green Apple Festival on the Mall, the Washington Area Bicyclist Association (WABA) offered a free Bike Valet. What riders got was a whole lot more.

Imagine leaving your coat at the coat check and getting it back cleaned and altered. For free. That is exactly what was offered at the Green Apple Bike Valet.

Okay, not exactly. Substitute bike, greased, and checked. For free. "FREE!?" exclaimed two participants as they turned to face each other. "You guys ROCK!" they told WABA all day long.

It was actually Phoenix Bikes, a student mechanic program out of Arlington, providing the free safety checks. With help from a group of mechanics from the Mt. Rainier Bike Co-op, these guys single handedly got Washington area cyclists ready for the season.

Check under the hood? When riders dropped off their bikes they were asked if they wanted a free safety check. What they got was more of a simple tune up, something that could run upwards of $50 in a shop. "This is awesome!" was the overall consensus.

Volunteer mechanics tightened bolts, greased rusty chains, and topped off tires. One child's handlebars were so loose the mechanic could twist them sideways with his hands.

Heading into prime riding season, this bike check was perfect timing. "We hope everyone takes advantage of safety checks," said WABA Executive Director Eric Gilliland. Promoting safety is their highest priority.

One mechanic pointed out, it's always good to have a bike checked over even when it's new. Whether a parent puts it together or someone in a store, it's always better to have a bike shop look it over. Be safe and green.


Saturday, April 18, 2009

7 & 7

No martinis in the park? No wonder SE began to attract a seedy crowd.
The following are short snippets of a ride-by between 7th and 7th NW to SE:

"Is this your car?"as calm as can be. "No, but my car is missing though. You think somebody stole it?" said the newly inducted pedestrian to the pesky parking police.
On further thought, perhaps it was her car and she was using distractics to avoid the parking ticket?

"Ooh, go ahead Sweetie ooh, phew," quaked the audibly shaken notorious Jay Walker.
Dy.no.mite

And from the church BIZARRE:
"You can shop too! I'll watch your ride!"
Bike Valet?

"I'm sorry I am half in the bike lane, that was very rude of me," yelled the polite if not sarcastic proponent of the skewed initiative: SHARE the LANE.
Gashole!

CAR WASH
"We'll wash your bike too!"
What about the biker? Cuz I mighta got a better offer.

"You don't even know me and you're giving me a hard time?" challenged the girl with a gun. Yes. Girl. With. A. Gun.
How original, I've never heard THAT from a federal agent before. No really, I never have! Tell me more. But please don't kill me.

" ," between sassy cyclist and DC officer as they reenacted near tragedy from the previous weekend.
At least he didn't JUST pass me.

"I called because I'm lost, not because I want to be found," said the biker to her cute standby rescuer.
Do you have change for a dollar? That girl needs some sense!

Friday, April 17, 2009

It's About The Bike

I AM wearing pants; well a skirt really.
You wouldn't want to be naked in this neighborhood.
You wouldn't want to nurse a flat here either.

D.irty C.onnie
04.17.07
R.I.P.
Rust In Pieces
no doubt

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Leave The Light On For Me


My prayers were answered.
Thank You MHBC

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Hindsight

Hi, remember me? You just passed me. You probably moved left. I was right. You may have slowed down. You JUST passed me.

Now, you just about HIT me?! It's raining. Your window is foggy. I get that. The blind spot. I feel you; I mean I REALLY feel you. But, you JUST PASSED ME!

Sadly, that would get you off. You could kill me with your vehicle and do less time, NO TIME to be exact, than Michael Vick with these four small words: I didn't see her.

There are two kinds of wrong with that. And somehow, that makes it right.

I put my head down, not to pray, there's no praying in preservation. And forget the kneeling, that, would be bad. But I bent my bicycle in half. To avoid your right front bumper. I KNOW! In half! I may have pulled a muscle.

I didn't know it possible. It possible! Self preservation is an amazing feet, feat? I was either in position to watch it all unfold, or kiss my ass goodbye.

Ass still whole, thanks for asking.

Now I lay me down to sleep
I thank the Lord my sole I keep
If I should die before you wake
Hunt down the car that didn't brake!

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Noteworthy

I need to carry water more often.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Torqued

I am not a terrorist, threat, or thief. I am not in a gang. I roll alone. I share the road. I am anti-pollution.

Yet, I was denied entry at the Air and Space. Twice. I was a threat to the planes. “Did you say planes?” Plane? As in plane? THAT plane? Up THERE? Waaaay up there!

My weapon of mass destruction? Combination wrench. 7 inches of cool, hard steel. Forged. 15mm of felonious fun.

Fierce. Cunning. Conniving. You caught me. I am not happy to see you; I actually have a wrench in my pocket. When asked, “what’s it for”, thank god I said wheel and not hub.

Indeed. I thought it was fool proof. Me, in bright orange fluorescent clothing, with a small messenger bag, and getaway pedal bike. Propeller by propeller, stealing guarded aviation with no one the wiser.

Abort, ABORT! Thwarted in my true plan to dismantle the Hubble, store it in my satchel, and ferry it home by bicycle. All with a 15mm wrench. They don’t call me McGyver for nothin’


Thursday, April 2, 2009

9:30 Dub

Like Groundhog Day



Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Batteries Not Included

I went to bed before the sun went down. 730 to be exact. And I slept, hard. I woke before the alarm, well rested.

It was 930. Seriously? I forced myself back to sleep. Again, I woke before the alarm.

1130. Grr. Arrg. Zzzz. Like RAAM I slept.

Again, this time something woke me. Crumpling paper. Am I having a seizure?? What’s with the paper? I’m not talking candy wrapper in Cold Case. I’m talking full on paper rustling. Like two cats attacking a makeshift paper recycling plant, say in someone’s dining room (not mine). This day shift is a killer.

Finally, 2am. It’s not even time to make the donuts. We don’t make news, why do we have to be there so early?? I mean the newspaper isn’t even here yet!

Will she or won’t she? Of course I rode. Like RAAM I rode. And me with my RAAM shoes on. Ain’t they purty?

Prada, Manolo, Jimmy Chew. Oh, I’m not that kind of girl. I like my shoes as much as the next girl, as long as they come with cleats underneath. Pearl izumi, Addias, Diadora…ooh ooh, I’m THAT kind of girl.

But Stella? McCartney? I know! Threatening my secret girl status; is it leaking out? You can’t see it can you?

But look at them! Not directly at them Woman! They might burn your retina. I mean really, who was she designing these for? Even in daylight I wouldn’t recommend staring, not without proper eyewear.

Can you see me now?? Two miles down the road I bet. And they almost match my bag! Score.