Local Manufacturing

On Becoming "That Guy"

Housekeeping note first. In "Heretic Homer," (season 4, for the true junkies) Homer Simpson decides he's had enough of church on Sunday. His effort to start his own religion (with virtually every form of sloth you could imagine) fails, but God tells him as the credits roll, "It's ok, Homer, 9 out of 10 religions fail in their first year." I suspect you could say the same about blogs.

As a blogger, I'm not particularly reliable. The six month gap since my last post here makes that clear enough. Alas, as I read regarding the demise (after far more than a year) of one of my favorite blogs, life always wins. So it has for me for a while. But I'm back. At least tonight. And probably not again for a while.

So I'll cross the first of 22 topics I have jotted down off my list: Lycra.

It's "that guy's" uniform. Up on Canada Road, Skyline, over in Sausalito, and especially on CalTrain. Always with the lycra.

I resisted. At some level I agree with the good people at Rivendell who suggest that the implicit snobbery of requiring a uniform to mount a bike ruins the experience -- or at least cheapens it -- for everyone else.

Up to December, I didn't own any. But I'd gone on a couple of rides where, frankly, I felt out of uniform, and a handful of friends I respect sport it from time to time. Lo and behold, Christmas left me with a nice pair of riding shorts from velowear.

So I waited for the rain to clear and hopped on the road bike to head to work. It was as though karma was after me for my hypocrisy (karma seems to figure heavily in my experiences here). Less than a mile into my ride, I had a flat. I walked home, changed, grabbed the commute bike, and headed to the train (not wearing lycra shorts for the first time on the train. Not. Gonna. Do. It.)

Undeterred, I tried again the next day. And here's the thing: I really liked the shorts. Really. A big improvement over my shorts. That was it. I'm officially that guy.

Jersey? Check.
Clipless pedals? Check.
Lycra shorts? Check.
"That guy?" Check.

Any sense of moral superiority is gone. I've become what I mock. And sure, I'll point out that nothing I wear has any big, fancy team logo, or psychedelic colors, or what have you, but if you see me out there on my road bike (still won't wear that stuff on the train in the morning), I'm him and he is me. And it's gotten worse, but that's a topic for another day.

And I'm ok with it. Turns out there's a reason for all the lycra. It's really quite comfortable. What's a guy to do?

Tailwind!

This morning I had a good push from mother nature, resulting in my fastest ride to work (52 minutes) and highest average speed yet (something I haven't worked at much lately). But I think the Olympic records committee would strike it from the books based on the tailwind. Still, it was fun!

Funny how your legs just feel stronger when you have a stiff wind at your back.

Not the Wicked Witch

I don't melt in water.

It's officially Fall in San Francisco; today the rain arrived. People often ask me, "what do you do when it rains?" The easy answer I typically give? "I get wet."

This isn't a big deal for me. I shower and change at work, so as long as the contents of my backpack stay dry (a simple garbage bad does the trick), getting wet in the morning isn't a big deal.

On the other hand, the water coming up from the road is pretty nasty. Full of grit, oil, whatever, it's not fun when that stuff sprays you. Fenders are a must. My road bike doesn't fit fenders, which pretty well rules out riding in from Burlingame on days like today.

Moreover, like the first snowfall of the season in places that get it, the first rain of the season wreaks havoc with drivers around here. The roads get slicker and the drivers stupider. Not the kind of day you want to be on a long commute with degraded braking power. Add to that the blocked drains with the resulting large puddles to ford (also because it's the first real rain of the season), and the big, lumbering, mountain bike felt like the right call.

Not all rainy days are created the same. Today's rain is pretty heavy, but some days a light little shower may not corral the road bike.

I remember one day in particular a couple of years ago when I still lived in San Francisco. The wind blew something fierce and the rain came down in sheets. Awful. The strong wind made any riding tough, but additional gusts nearly blew me to a stop. Add the pelting rain, and it was pretty ugly. So bad that I started laughing on my way home because riding in it was so ridiculous. edit: sounds like I might be in for more of the same tonight . . .

Still, I got home. And the rain soaked the folks who were walking just as much as it did me.

Added bonus? The rain clears out the fair-weather bike commuters from the train car, so I don't have to worry about getting a spot. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.

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.

The Helmet Lock: A Useful Tool

http://www.thehelmetlock.com/

I've had a Helmet Lock for about two weeks now. I like it. I've used it a few times and it's convenient and effective. As advertised, it fits easily around a u-lock when not in use.

If you're looking around for a way to conveniently stow your helmet when you lock up your bike, this is a good option.

CalTrain: Picking Your Seat

The dilemma: which seat to take?

In the mornings I rarely have the option. Getting on at Millbrae, it's stand or stand. Sometimes you can lean on the bike rack railing, if that works for you (it's not very comfortable). But on the way home?

I take an express (unless I'm stuck at work past 7). It's a quick way home (15 minutes for me), but not surprisingly, it's also a popular way home. Nonetheless, unlike my train into work, it isn't often so crowded that I can't get a seat (and when it is, some nice lady is ineffectually yelling at all the non-cyclists to get off her car). So which seat to take? Upstairs are the rows of single seats. Nice, but not a lot of legroom. For whatever reason, I like to be on the sunny/west-facing side. Not sure why, but I do.

The cream of the upstairs, however, is the first seat because it has another seat opposite it where you can stash your stuff and which leaves you with extra legroom. Unless the train is really crowded and someone comes up and takes that seat. Then neither of you have any legroom and you uncomfortably struggle not brush each other's legs or make eye contact. Not a pleasant situation. But not as bad as what happens down below, in the hold.

Downstairs the seats lure you in with the promise of American personal space: an empty seat beside you and across from you. Leg room, elbow room, privacy. Lovely. It's like that lucky flight in coach where you have a row all to yourself. And like that lucky flight, it's rare.

There's always the one guy across from you. Even if you have all your personal space, there's no guarantee he's not going to chatter at you about whatever's on his mind ("excuse me, can't you see I'm reading this book?" you think to yourself as you try to manage a polite smile). Sure, that guy might be a really nice fella, but more likely he's a really annoying fella. I take strong odds in that direction (which is why I sit upstairs).

Even if that guy isn't annoying, chances are high those empty seats next to and across from you won't stay that way. Once again, try to find space for everyone's legs while avoiding awkward brushes against "that guy's" shaved legs and at all costs avoid eye contact. I'd rather stand. Nowadays I won't even take the chance on the seats in the dungeon; I'll just stand for 15 minutes and remain grateful that Millbrae isn't far away.

If I have the choice -- and normally I do -- I go upstairs. Even if that means limited leg room. I'll just read my book in peace.

Cyclists are a Pain in the Neck

A friend sent me a list of random thoughts some comedian or another put together. Among them was this:

As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

You know, I basically agree. In my commute I see more cyclists do stupid things on the road than anyone else. And it's not just doing things wrong -- we all do that -- it's flagrant disregard for the rules of the road and even the cyclists' own safety.

I can understand blowing the occasional stop sign, but just Wednesday I saw a guy blow a light and pick his way through heavy traffic like he was playing Frogger. Seriously, that guy is a problem. Remember my discussion about the lack of cross traffic along the Embarcadero? Also this week I was crossing the Embarcadero and was nearly run down by a cyclist who didn't think the red light applied to him. This morning I saw a woman riding on the sidewalk (also discussed in that link) blowing right throw a parking lot entrance -- against a light -- while cars (with the light) were trying to enter it.

Last week I saw a guy blow a stop sign without any regard for the car that was already in the intersection (legally) and then got upset at the car for not giving him more room. It was ridiculous. I mean I get things wrong every now and again (just the other day I misread the pattern on a light and took off before it was my turn), but when I do I don't blame the drivers who aren't doing anything wrong for my mistake.

All this results in drivers not trusting us. Today I pull up to a stop sign, clearly the last one there, and wait for the car to my right to drive through. He refuses to do so and just kept waiting for me to go, sure that I had no regard for the stop sign. He didn't even waive me on, he just sat there and stared. Eventually I got the hint and went, but neither he nor I was happy with the situation: I was frustrated waiting for him, and he for me.

We, the cyclists of the world, could do ourselves a big favor by being just a little more respectful of the rules. In the mean time, I too distrust my fellow riders more than the drivers in cars around me (who also leave plenty to be desired).

Commute Friends

You know those people you see every day? The ones you recognize and notice in their absence, but you've never said a word to them?

When I started bike commuting, riding from Bernal to the Financial District, I had two that stick out: "skinny woman," and "old military guy." Just before 8 in the morning she was always running, and he was always walking on the Embarcadero near the ball park. She wore black tights, a pony tail, and, yes, was very skinny. He wore old-style running shorts (the short kind), had short gray hair, and wasn't really power-walking in the Olympic style, but was walking hard, if that makes sense. Normally shirt off, I feel like he has the faded, greening, naval-style tatoo, but maybe I just always thought he should. I still see them every now and again, if I'm a little early and they are a little late.

There were times when they weren't there in the morning. Stretches during which old military guy would miss several days and I'd start to wonder about him and what might have happened. Then he'd be back.

There's the security guard at the parking lot I ride past at my building. We wave and greet each other most mornings. When she's not there I wonder how she's doing and what she's up to.

Now, on my ride from Burlingame, there's a guy who's always coming down Airport as I'm heading up it, around Brisbane and South City. Red helmet, blue shirt, black bike. And I know he goes at least as far as Burlingame, because I've seen him there a couple of times at the end of the day, headed north.

Then there are the people on the train. Black-haired Specialized Allez rider. No-on-8 Sticker Guy. Loud, anti-government guy. Bald, compact, serious-rider guy. Bike-activist yeller woman. Webcor-uni guy.

Now, with people you pass while riding, of course you wouldn't strike up a conversation with them, but nonetheless you have a connection with them. It's a funny thing . . .

CalTrain: Bike Tags

It's not hard, folks. Put a destination tag on your bike. Many of the local bike shops have them for free at their counters. Don't have one handy? Grab a piece of paper and tape it to the top tube.

And if you're the guy who doesn't have a destination tag, don't aggressively cross examine the person putting their (properly tagged) bike in front of yours. Tell them where it's going -- nicely, with a tone of regret that you're the bum who hasn't tagged his bike. You can be sure that cyclist doesn't want to get in your way and is actively wondering where you are going. You're the problem, not the other way around.

Yeah, I'm talking to you, annoying guy on last night's 6:33.

PS. I get off at Millbrae (like the tag says), the first stop. I won't be getting in your way.

A Note to Drivers: USE YOUR TURN SIGNAL!

I'm lucky, most of my route to and from work either has light traffic or wide bike lanes. I feel like where I ride cars and cyclists are able to effectively share the road. Now, I know drivers will sometimes do unexpected things. Hey, so will I, so I'm ok with that. Not that I always appreciate it, but I'm ok with it. That said, the ONE thing that would really, really help: using your right turn signal.

If you're turning right, parking on the side of the street, please, please, please use your right turn signal. Oh, and if you're not turning right, please don't use your right turn signal.

If you use it, I promise to give you the room you need. Most other cyclists will do the same (most . . .).

If you don't? Well, I'll probably just curse and give you a nasty look. But I nearly saw a fight break out the other day involving another wronged cyclist. Just use your turn signal. Seriously.

Bay Area Microclimates

Left the house this morning and it was clear, sunny, and calm. By the time I reached San Bruno, there was a pretty stiff wind and I could see the fog pouring over the hill over South City. Sure enough, South City remained windy (head windy) and foggy. Fortunately, over Airport around the San Bruno "Mountain," that wind became a tailwind (which was appreciated; I was tired to begin with today). So around the "mountain," expecting a stiff headwind on the other side.

Nope. Sunny. Clear. Calm. Weird.

But that's life riding from the Peninsula to the City.

Need to Lock Your Helmet?

Can't say I've ever felt compelled to lock my helmet up with my bike, but I can see the utility in it (motorcycles often have built-in helmet locks). Just haven't done it. Anyway, Blake, the maker/inventor (?) of this device contacted me below, and . . . why not?

http://www.thehelmetlock.com/spread_the_word.php

Looks like a handy device. Wouldn't necessarily stop a really motivated helmet/bike thief, but how many really motivated helmet thiefs are there, really? Probably not many (a truly motivated bike thief? If your u-lock isn't good enough, you'll have bigger complaints than the loss of your helmet). Seems like a pretty good idea. Good luck, Blake.

Edit, 8/12/08: So after writing this yesterday I took my bike to the ballgame. Not wanting to leave my road bike parked outside at PacBell/Cingular/AT&T (can we just call it "Giants"?) Park and with a heavy load to carry in to work, I road my mountain bike (and took CalTrain). So I get to the game, but did I really want to bring my helmet with me inside the stadium? Of course not. So there I am thinking about how handy Blake's product would be, mere hours after stating that I don't generally have a need for such a thing. Ironic.

Anyway, it turns out my u-lock was just big enough to fit through my helmet, my frame, and the wide front MTB wheel. So I got away with it. Nonetheless, I would've preferred one of Blake's helmet locks.

Clears the Head

Was out at a show late last night. Woke up tired this morning. Had a mood to match. Got on the bike to come to work and was a little tired; not a morning to challenge last Monday's time and speed records.

It's summer in the City, and beautiful. By the time I got to work, I was all smiles. Bike commuting is good like that.

I wonder how CalTrain was this morning . . .

CalTrain: the Bike Car

I've been riding into work all week, so I've missed out on my morning CalTrain fun. But not today. Nothing big this morning, but people, who do you suppose the "Bike Car" is for? Had to fight my way through the crowd of non-cyclists packing the coach's doorway to get my bike back to its rightful place. Not too bad this morning, but always a little annoying.

It is a constant war between the cyclists and the people who (a) want to be closest to the train station when they get to the City; and (b) the people who are too lazy to walk to the next car down when headed out of the City.

Every now and again you'll get some outraged cyclist who climbs aboard and starts yelling at all non-cyclists to get off the coach and make room for the people who are supposed to be there. It rarely works, but hey, maybe it makes them feel better.

Last night was a good one, though. A guy followed a woman up the stairs to the empty seat she took and said, "you know, this car is for cyclists and I saw you get on this car without a bike. Would you please move to another car?" Despite the "please" it wasn't the nicest approach ever, and frankly, I can't believe the guy thought it might actually work. Suffice it to say, it didn't.