Pride

You know that scene in Pulp Fiction where Marcellus is talking Butch through the dive he'll take in the fifth round?* (I would link it, but it appears Mirimax takes their copyright seriously.)

"you may feel a slight sting. That's pride f__ing with you. F__ pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps."

Maybe pride hurts when you're taking a bribe to fix a fight, but when you're on your morning commute?

The pain drives you.

When "that guy" passes you -- or you pass him -- it's time to dig deep. You can't let him get the better of you, right? Drive the legs, keep the rpms up, stay strong.

The other day I passed "that guy" on Terry Francois. He was moving along ok, but I was a little faster. Now, I played hockey the night before, so my legs weren't in tip-top shape to scream the rest of the way to work (or they would really scream at me), but I was doing alright. It wounded his pride though, and he hopped on my wheel. No time for mercy . . . or tired legs.

On the turn to the Embarcadero I observed traffic laws and followed the cars in front of me turning right. That was his opportunity as he bolted around them on the left, then weaved back through them back to the bike lane on the right. But it only gained him one car length and I made it up quickly as we approached the light at 2nd. Then he did something strange: he slowed to a stop.

Why is that strange? 2nd terminates at the Embarcadero, so there's no cross traffic. I've literally never seen a cyclist stop there without pedestrians in the cross walk.

He made a complete stop and I told him, "I'm a bad person, I run this one." He smiled, chuckled, and replied, "Got ticketed for it just a little while back." Ouch. He might have been this guy (same place, pretty close to the same time).

To his credit, he learned his lesson from that ticket. Not me; on I went, and thus ended the race. Though I kept motoring just to make sure. Plus, the sprint down the Embarcadero in the morning is a fun one.

Light or no light, he didn't stand a chance.

And, yes, I realize this is further evidence I'm becoming "that guy." Still no lycra pants or team jersey on the commute, though. That's where I'm drawing the line. For now.

* For you non-Tarantino fans, Marcellus is an organized crime boss, and Butch is the boxer he's paid to rig a fight.

Hetchins On Parade: A Guest Post

A guest entry from that serious-biker brother of mine. Thanks Josh!

The pedals haven’t hit yet. No scratches can yet be found on the new bike – a custom built Hetchins frame decorated with Phil and Schmidt hubs, a chromed lugged Nitto stem, a green Brooks swallow, Miche cranks with a TA chainring, and shiny black fenders. That one spill taken while trying to maintain a trackstand with the other foot forward merely bruised the ego, not the bike.

Commuting on a fixie is a blast. Every corner has a certain thrill, and the off camber traffic circles are better than coffee in the morning. Speed is easy to precisely regulate on the mixed use path to the boat house, and track stands are easier (with the accustomed foot forward). Brakes are a must when dealing with unpredictable traffic (like pedestrians running lights, cars backing blind out of parking spaces, off leash dogs, and cell phone obsessed teenagers), and it’s simply cool to be able to slow down no-handed. Riding one of the area’s most beautiful bikes stokes the ego too.

One of today’s highlights was trading smiles with the lady crossing (with the light) an intersection where I was balanced and awaiting a green light. Riding the fixie makes me smile, and smiles are best when shared.

Ed. Note: I'm not sure why it took me 30-some odd years to figure out what my dad and my brother were onto with this biking thing. I'm still not likely to ever become the biker my brother is (or has been, as he might point out), but it really is a superior form of transportation.

P.S. The Hetchins in question is Beeeautiful:

Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies . . .

Grow up to ride motorcycles.

On my way into work this morning I rode past a gruesome cleanup effort by SFPD. Suffice it to say, stay safe out there, people.

Headwind

The good news? The wind blowing to the southeast is blowing that unseasonably hot weather out of here.

The bad news? It was blowing right in my face this morning.

The good news? It gave me a little push up my two climbs.

The bad news? It beat me down, took me down on average about one gear and about two mph.

The good news? I still beat SM 292 from Grand to Cesar Chavez (that makes me 4-1).

The bad news? Those mphs cost me about 4 minutes on my way in.

The good news? The lights made up for a little of that.

The bad news? Weird traffic stuff going on this morning.

The good news? I didn't run over any pedestrians today.

And more good news to finish on? It was still a great way to start a Friday heading into the holiday weekend.

Why Did The Pedestrian Cross The Road . . . Against A Red Light?

Grrr. That karma I thought I had yesterday didn't last long.

On my way home to the train station I ride down the Embarcadero past the Ferry Building. Sometimes there are a great many people waiting to cross the Embarcadero to catch their ferry. They use the crosswalk pictured here:

See, but in the picture traffic is stopped and the pedestrians are crossing with their walk light.

Last night I approached the crosswalk and had a green light. Now, I was moving right along, not at a scorching pace, but probably around 20 mph, after all I was in a protected bike lane and had a green light.

Huddled in a large mass waiting for the light to change, two pedestrians waiting at the crosswalk lost their patience -- and their minds -- and stepped off the curb right in front of me. Right where that "don't" sign is. Too bad the sign isn't really there.

I gave a shout ("NO!"), slammed on the breaks, and hoped. But hope is not a method. The first one off the curb, a man, was a step ahead of me and leaped forward, out of the way (good thing for him my reaction was stopping, not swerving as many people would do). The second off the curb, a woman, tried to get back to the curb, and very nearly did. As my bike pulled to a halt, my handlebars glanced off what I think was her purse.

As my bike came to a sudden stop and a bump at the same time, I more or less folded over and crumpled down. Not bad -- basically like the kind of fall you have when you first get clipless pedals and you practice getting out of them -- but not fun, either.

I immediately jumped up and asked if she was ok, which she was. Then I picked up my bike, and more than a little shaken, looked it over to make sure it was ok.

The guy? He literally ran away.

Several people, including a bicyclist who had been pretty far behind me, immediately came to my defense and said quite aloud that it was clearly their (his and her) fault, and that I should get the offenders' contact info. I was rattled. I could tell I was ok, a quick assessment of my bike told me it was more or less ok, and I looked over my work clothes (which I rarely wear on my way home, but I was on my way to a meeting) and they were fine, notwithstanding a little grease here or there (that's what stain removers are for). Basically I was grateful that everyone and everything was ok, I was in a hurry, and I was definitely still rattled, so I dismissed the need for her contact info.

In hindsight I should have taken it. While I don't think I would ask her to pay for anything, the stains should come out, and there isn't much more than superficial scratching here or there on the bike, I might have discovered something later (a tear in my clothes, a dent in the bike, the scrape on my arm that I did discover later, etc.).

Stuff like that shakes you up. It took quite a while last night to clear my head.

But all's well that end's well, right? She (and he) was lucky, had she stepped out a second later I would have really run her over, rather than just bumped her bag. Someone would have broken something.

Should our friends at the City's transportation department consider signs warning people to look for cyclists? (hint, hint . . .)

It's just another reminder: crime doesn't pay (even if it's only jaywalking).

Well, shoot, I'll keep jaywalking, too; just check the bike lane, before stepping out in the street against a light, ok?

PS. I also got a flat on the way in this morning. What happened to that good karma!?!

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?

To get away from the foxes chasing it?

It's a strange urban jungle out there, but sometimes karma treats the bike commuter pretty well.

Over the last few weeks I've been trying to ride in to work Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, taking the train in on Wednesday. Yesterday I was running a little behind, so I took the train. As luck would have it, the train was delayed and I would have gotten to work at the same time had I ridden in. Bad karma, eh?

Maybe not. Because I took the train yesterday, I rode in today. In addition to hitting nearly all of the lights correctly I got something much cooler. Understand that most of my ride is through industrial areas. Most of the wild things I see on the way to work are new and exciting trucks and tractors. But not this morning.

On my way north on Tunnel Road, past the old San Francisco landfill, two foxes casually skipped across the road in front of me. Very cool.