Stoptionals Are Like Snipe Hunting

This is for the little white car in the park. And just to be clear, I have nothing against little white cars. This may prove to be remedial for most of you, but it's been brought to my attention abruptly, some of you, perhaps driving little white cars in the park...need a remedial reminder...

I can see now that they are side by side, why some of you MAY be experiencing some issues differentiating between some of our critical red road signs.

And I'm not gonna lie, some of our signs are confusing. I'm not sure what an acorn and a penguin have to do with one another...for that matter I'm not sure why our pedestrian crossings contain a penguin at all. A penguin in a suit no less! But believe me I've got my eyes peeled for one every time I'm downtown Silver Spring.

But this is really about the little white car that damn near took the paint off my bike in Sligo Creek. Now I knew you weren't really going to stop, so it wasn't that close, but you do know what the red octagon means right?

I'm not sure what it is about spring, but it makes people drive poorly. I mean I'm not sure if there has ever been a scientific study...could there be a compound, element, or freaking amino acid like tryptophan that causes drivers to lapse into semi-consciousness while driving or even have selective amnesia?

I mean I tried really hard to give you the benefit of the doubt. I looked on every corner. I saw the same sign-everywhere. I tried looking at different angles. It always looked the same.

I investigated the yield sign. It is indeed the same color. It's even red outlined in white. Okay. Let's assume you are color blind. Let's also assume you can't read. STOP may mean nothing to you. Of course, let's be honest, if that's the case, this blog posting is falling on deaf ears...or rather illiterate eyes.

But is there such a thing as apparentylexia? I'm gonna tell you right now my spell check has got that made up word on high alert with its squiggly red notification. My inclination is NO that's absolutely not a word and absolutely not a condition. Therefore, the octagonal shape of the STOP sign and the triangular shape of the YIELD sign should mean something to everyone.

Whether it's the white triangle in the middle of the sign (assuming you don't speak English) or the letters on the actual sign...I'm not sure if you've ever taken the time to notice but allow me to point out S T O P Y I E L D does not repeat one single letter. So there's that. And then there's the shape. Eight sides to three. Surely you can count to three? If you are truly geometrically challenged, and I get it, some people are...an octagon is really more like a circle and a triangle more like a...well, a triangle. Get it?

Sometimes STOP signs even come with these pre-STOP signs as a kind of warning. This one comes in yellow and is a diamond, which is really just a square on its side. It's not really geometry, I think if you stretch your brain you can get this one. Turkey be damned.

This sign is alerting you to the fact that you are going to need to STOP soon. Stopping, in case that is the problem, is when you depress the pedal on the left, all the way to the floor if you have to.

Once when I was a kid I heard a rumor if the sign had a white border around it it was really a STOPTIONAL and you didn't need to stop if it were clear. Even at 15 I knew that wasn't true. Those are called YIELD signs and they look completely different, as we just remediated in this blog. Bottom line, if there's a question, please STOP. Thank you for your time.

Wolf

Oh Virginia, we need to talk. We've been spending way too much time together these days. And let's be honest, you're high maintenance.

It's the roads. The directions? The signs? Somehow every time I'm in your state, I get lost. I'm not sure it's me, it could be you. I know your people say it's us and they talk dirt about our roads, but let's be real...

Have you ever traveled the back roads of Virginia? They are numbered, like Interstates. I think some of them might be driveways. But then you get on the big roads and it's like they ran out of numbers, so they use them twice. Did anyone think maybe this wasn't a great idea? Different roads, same numbers.

Take the weekend I wound up in a circle with directions to stay on 29. And every road leaving the circle was 29! Four choices, all the same route. Business 29. Old 29. New 29. Let's-Trick-The-Out-Of-Staters 29. Nice.

This weekend the road completely changed names on me. When I looked down at my directions it said Gallows Rd. Then, turn left on Gallows Rd. And left on Gallows Rd. And somewhere along the way Gallows Rd. became another road. So let me get this straight, I was supposed to turn three times onto Gallows Rd. but after the first time, I LOST Gallows Rd??

I gave in early. I turned off to look at my map, to see where I went wrong. Turns out I just needed to go one more street and I'd be back on Gallows Rd. UNCLE.  I'm done trying to figure it out. So when I left I followed a fellow Virginian. He drove me in one complete circle, but at least I recognized it straight up. And he was using a 'smart' phone.

Siri, get me out of Virginia.

Good Ole Fashioned Neck Wringing

Why I oughta...I don’t often ride up to an open window. Especially one at a stop sign, lingering, on a chilly, dark night. But it was clear I wasn’t pedalling forward tonight if I didn’t.

The driver leaned over and back and said, “Excuse me…” This is how they ‘get you’. They act like they are in need of assistance and then they try to school you. And not like they ever ask, but this particular night I was all good with my pile of knowledge, thanks.

So he says, “I just wanted to let you know you aren’t very visible from behind.” Now I had checked my light before I left and I knew it was bright and visible. The headlight….not so much, it was desperately in need of a charge. And so I waved my hand in front of my sputtering headlamp and said, “I’m not overly visible from the front right now either and the longer we stand here and discuss it the less visible I become so I’d really rather go.” 

Then, because he’s the type that knows everything and needs to not only let every one of us know that but also spread his diarrhea of knowledge around the crib like a unsupervised baby with a dirty diaper, he starts to talk about the angle from which my light is dangling from my bag and the trajectory of light emanating from within. 

He follows this up with, “And you should really have reflectors on your pedals.”  Okay, Mr. Selfish…did I not mention my dying headlight? I politely and less condescending than him explained that real pedals don’t really work that way, but thanks again.  I left out the presence of the glowing reflectors on my shoes, bag, jacket, and gloves, which he clearly didn't see.  

And if he actually had his eyes on the road, the brightly lit city road, he might actually see me. Given the field angle times the hypotenuse of the beam spread divided by the width of the lens x focal length of the instrument minus the kelvins absorbed by my dark clothing…Really I just wanted to say, maybe it's your driving.

Then he gunned the engine, scared the elderly man dead center of his front bumper carefully crossing the street in the crosswalk, as I screamed, “Don’t hit the pedestrian in front of you!” The street crosser breathed a sigh of Thanks to me and I rest my case about this guy’s driving. Just sayin...

WhEN Dee Bell Tolls

If you know me, you can see today is a momentous day; change is at my fingertips. This is a commitment. Strap me in and call me a driver, I got me my first EZ Pass!  Get down, turn around, go to town, Boot Scootin' Boogie.

If you are one of those lucky drivers who wound up behind me at a toll booth on 95 or the Bay Bridge, I regret to inform you your free ride is up.

Some of you know I've been a hold out for the EZ Pass not only for my union ways to keep the man (that's a little m) in manual labor but also because I like paying for the guy behind me. It's a simple, unexpected, inexpensive gesture in the sea of a bottlenecked traffic jam. It's the least I can do. Besides I'm about to cut you off as the lanes narrow.

But today as I sat at the MVA with my lottery ticket in hand awaiting to yell BINGO when my number was called, those generous days faded. See, I'm prepared to make the trip often. And in my rush to watch the sun set I don't have time to slow down and pick through cash. EZ Pass GO!

Oh, and of course there's that issue of my new NPO salary. I'm giving away free bikes, I can't be paying your tolls any more. I'm sorry, I really am. You should have thought of that the past decade while you sat at home watching free TV, tipping your paperboy and giving a little something extra to the mail carrier at Christmas. 

Okay, now can someone please help me with this plastic contraption? I've taken it out of the package and read the directions but I can't seem to find the handlebar bracket.  Does that come separately or can you only mount this thing on a Bell helmet?

Fahrenheight

First let me say, these kids ROCK! Don't tell them but if they come over and start entering our races, they would so kick our butts! These are the fourth year students of Baclayon High School who received OUR old bikes from the DC area.

Yeah, those bikes. The ones we throw away, say don't work, and complain about the color. Well, these kids are rocking the pedals of those old 'junk' bikes. Through bogs of mud and rock gardens that put Gambrill to shame. The hills are sooo steeep...how steep are they?

I have no idea. I'm having trouble with the conversions over here. They keep telling me these kids receive bikes based on their distances from school.  They are given the bikes to help their commutes and ultimately keep them in school. This is a darn good thing because they keep telling me the distances are 3-5k.

Back in the States I thought that was about half the distance we usually measure things.  Like a Century ride is 100 miles, but you can do a Metric Century that is around the 60 mile range (100k). Well, I'm pretty certain it's the opposite here. When they say 5k they really mean something between 10-15 miles.  It HAS to be. It's definitely not 1.5 miles!  I am dying on these rides. (and I don't want to hear it's my age)

Meanwhile here comes G on his brand new old BMX bike (read ONE GEAR) flying past me up the hill. There I am on my borrowed Voodoo with 27 sweet gears, I ain't too proud to drop it into granny, and he pedals right past me like it's Highway 10.

It's not their fault. This is life in the Philippines. Where the people are shorter and the steps are steeper. The temperature is measured in Celsius and converts to really f*#%ing hot. I'm telling you  it doesn't compute. And don't even think about setting a time for a meeting. They're gonna be late. That's why they have cell phones. Oh, and let's not forget my 15 minutes of fame was probably closer to 15 hours. And it's all used up, thank you very much.

They blame the traffic, which believe it or not, in Manila is about 4 times worse than DC.  10 minutes easily become 30 or 40. Clearly, Verizon is run by Filipinos. Imagine sitting here waiting for a contractor to arrive...sometimes they show up tomorrow.

Super Sunday

Sometimes life just works. I mean I'm not one to turn away from a challenge.  I typically run headstrong into them. But bushwhacking is tiring and not always rewarding.

City riding is also fun but challenging. Your mind is consumed by everything around you, aggressive driving, absent signals, swinging doors... One errant thought and you're kissing pavement.

But every now and again, life throws you your own bike lane. A place to slow down, take in the sights, breathe in the air, watch a sailboat float across the water. A momentary reprieve from the hectic world of life.

It's a nice place to be. This Bike Lane. I do so enjoy it.  I need more of this Bike Lane. I could really get used to it.

The Core of the Problem

Welcome to DC’s only CycloX race. We have no BMX tracks, no pump courses, no mountain bike trails, incomplete bike paths, and ONE CCX race. Do you really want to ask WHY we ride on the road?

Chris Core is constantly on the attack for why cyclists ride on the road, “when there is a perfectly good trail RIGHT there”. Now I’ve met Core, he’s a nice guy. We even had a nice long chat about bikes on the road. Most of what he says is reasonable.

Most. Some of what he says is ridiculous. Take his Share the Road, Share the Rules rant. He wants cyclists to behave like every other vehicle on the road. Well, I wish we could. But until EVERY vehicle on the road treats EVERY vehicle on the road equally that’s just not in my best interest.

He also believes we should wait our turn at a traffic light. Meaning, if there is a line of cars at a light we, as cyclists, should not proceed to the front of the line. Here’s the obvious issues with that…you push me all the way right on the road and then take it away at the light? Why shouldn’t I proceed in ‘my lane’ if no one else is in it? I will respect your turn signal if and when you use it.

Even if I arrive first at a light, cars don’t respect the fact that I am standing there. I have been honked at, cussed out, cut off, turned into, and even hit while waiting for the light. If we are treated equally and I am in front NO vehicle should be allowed to turn right on red IN FRONT OF ME. That would be like making a right on red from the left hand lane in front of other cars…it’s not legal. But perfectly okay, if said vehicle is a bike.

Lights are not timed for me. I cannot trip the sensor on some lights. I am not yielded the right of way at four way stop. I am afraid when I enter circles, pass by on/off ramps, travel some high volume roads.

I am cut off by buses, taxis, and drivers turning right. I am pulled out in front of. Pedestrians step out in front of me. Parkers open doors into me. Drivers park in my lane. There is debris on the shoulder. The trails are unplowed.

I am unprotected by a thick coating of metaled armor. Preyed upon on poorly designed trails. I am refused service in drive thrus. My speed is misjudged and drivers continue to make poor decisions that affect me.

Sometimes I choose to ride on the road and sometimes I have no choice but to. No matter which, I always have a right to ride on the road. And let’s be honest, we all break the law, riders and drivers alike.  But believe me, when I do it's for the sake of my safety not to spite it.

Fun Bust

The Ford Giveth and The Ford Taketh Away.

Riding the high of last night's lane discovery, I was sideswiped at the bank.  Figuratively...literally would prove the money mongrels right.

For 6 months I've been taking the trail to the bank, going through the drive thru, and making deposits.  Without incident or accident.

Today my streak struck out.  Oh, they took my money, but then refused to serve me.  Ask the guy in the pickup.  In between hitting on me he noted the rudeness of the teller.  He asked about my socks.  Oh watch this, I'm about to go Alpha Bitch all over their Benjamins.

They said something about the use of a vehicle.  I looked down at mine and said, yeah, and?  Your point is what?

No Shit,

No Car:

No Service

Liability, my sweet biking ass!  You've got three relatively unused lanes and a parking lot spilling into the trail.  Not to mention I ride in traffic.  The drive thru red tape is crap!  And if your business abuts a bike trail I think it should be a law that your establishment is bike friendly.

You can take that to the bank!  Just leave your bike at home.  Next time I'm saying it's a scooter. SunTrust.  Kemp Mill. Lamberton Drive.  Silver Spring.  Biker Beware.

Pile of Beans

We've been making the rounds in the bullying badgering blogs again.  Breaking news....the drivers still hate us.  They hate the traffic AND the solution.  They are just angry; there is no solution.

So they attack us.  Because they can.  I'm not sure if or how it helps.  But I'm learning how to ignore it.  It's rather easy when it lacks sense.

Have you heard about one in ten?  It's a term used to describe homosexuals.  You know, one in ten people...well you can figure it out.  My point is that's 10%.

Now I just read on one of these bully the biker blogs (and it's on the Internet so it must be true) that bikers only make up 1% (of what I'm not exactly sure).  And I was thinking if one in ten is gay and one in one hundred is a biker, then someone is clearly LYING.

Think about it.  1% of road users are bikers?  Just ONE PERCENT?  Are you sure?  The economy is in the toilet.  Jobs are hard to come by.  Brick and mortars are closing.  Small businesses are failing.  And there are over 15 bike shops INSIDE the beltway. 

Christ on a Kestrel...another one of those headache causing word problems.  Tell me how you get one percent?  Wouldn't some of those shops be bankrupt?  Who is spending money in a bike shop if not cyclists?  That's a whole lot of Energy Beans fueling 15 shops. Or a handful of cyclists frequenting a shit ton of shops.

I believe maybe 1% drive Arks.  Oh and LOOK, you can stash them at the Whole Foods in Georgetown, perfect!

Can We SAY It Was Terrorism

I had the silly notion to drive today.  To save time.  That's the funny part.  Driving to save time. 

If car C leaves the home at 7AM and bike B also leaves the home at 7AM what time do they both pull into the station?  Exactly 4 minutes apart.  That's the answer, 4 minutes.

What's 4 minutes get you?  FAT.  Sure, I saved 4 whole minutes, but got zero work out.  So essentially I LOST 40 minutes. Grand.  I was never good at word problems.

It's cool, it's been a long day.  I'm deliriously tired.  Not a good idea to teeter on two wheels to get home.  I thought I might get a nap today.  That's also why I drove.  Sleeping on a bike makes sleeping in a car feel like bunking at the Venetian (minus the second floor).

I knew it was going to be a long, hard day.  In the business we have our tip offs.  This morning I quickly noticed the hovering helicopters circling the city, like guard dogs.  Us TV geeks are tuned into that. Oh man, that isn't a good sign, I thought.  Must hurry to work.

For a city known for its terrorism, I couldn't help but notice all the cars still moving TOWARD the impending danger.What is wrong with these people?  Have they not had enough drama in the workplace?

Turn around!  Go home young man!  Run.  Flee. Be Free.  Don't you see those helicopters dotting the horizon?  There beneath the clouds.  The F16s are probably just above, waiting for word.  To attack.  The copters watching patiently, perched on the edge of the city like....oh, right, n.e.v.e.r.m.i.n.d....

Us TV geeks sent them there.  Traffic choppers.  Right.  Of course. That's all it was.  Every day, ordinary, morning activities.  Things I usually sleep through.  Here I thought it was terrorists coming to destroy our day, and disrupt our lives, and cripple our city.  Roger that.

The copters dangling in the sky like a participle.  Like a Miami-Dade chiding chad. Shooting menacing, gruesome pictures of a typical morning commute.  Like you haven't already seen it.  Like you want to see it right before you walk out the door.  Like you won't see enough of it sitting in it. Thanks for that!

Tally Whoa!

I don't mean to be picky, but this is getting ridiculous.  I got off the trail, tried to enter the roadway, and was pushed up on the sidewalk.  Traffic.  I found traffic in my lane.  FACING ME.  Since when did Chevy Chase become Jolly Ole England??

I was recently attacked, perhaps you saw it, on my own facebook page by a friend claiming I was 'one of those bike commuters'.  And by those, I think I mean always wrong.  Everyone else is always right, but bikers are typically always in the wrong.

So yesterday, I was almost broadsided by a hummer who failed to completely stop at the four way stop that I had just stopped at and wrongly continued through.  Last night a car at a stop light turned right into me without choosing to use a turn signal.  I wrongly assumed it was going straight.  Then I almost got hit by a silent ambulance screaming through an intersection.  I wrongly assumed green means go.  And then today I was run off the road by a black vehicle of which I was unable to obtain the plate number on because did I mention I WAS BEING RUN OFF THE ROAD.  I wrongly assumed we were sharing it.

Then, I wound up in England.  Say what?  I don't think I need to point out these cars were on the wrong side of the road.  But I stand corrected.  They were forced to use this side of the roadway thanks to one of 'those bike riders' blocking the other side.

It's true, there on the other side was a guy on a bike sitting in the middle of the road.  Just sitting there.  Blocking traffic.  The nerve of him.  And so who can blame these poor drivers trying to rush into their neighborhood and into the safety of their plushly furnished homes??  Of course they had to drive on the other side.  How would they get home?

The guy.  Still sitting there.  I counted five cars as I rode past on the sidewalk.  Five cars drove on the wrong side of the road into their neighborhood to evade the inconsiderate, arrogant biker taking up an entire lane of their street.

No one seemed to notice or mind that he wasn't moving.  Oh, I guess they probably noticed he wasn't moving his bicycle, but he himself wasn't moving.  Not his feet, not his hands, not his head, not even his eyes as far as I could tell.

The bike, it was an adult tricycle.  No one I know rides one of these because they want to; they have to.  This signals to me that maybe the man has some type of physical or mental ailment or handicap.  And there he sat on a tricycle, in the middle of the street, not moving, ALONE.  And no one bothered to question this, they just drove around instead.

Really?  A handicapped man on an adult tricycle....and no one recognized him?  In a neighborhood.  Tell me do you think he was out training for a century and just got tired?  I don't suspect he could have been far from home.  And yet no one stopped.  And I'm inconsiderate!

Someone finally did.  Someone blocked traffic for him and eventually got out of his car to investigate.  I suppose everyone else was too busy, or in a rush to get home to watch The Talk on CBS.  I can only hope someone was dialing 911 at the very least.