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.

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.

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.

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.