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.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
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!?!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, August 21, 2009
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:
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).
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).
Thursday, August 20, 2009
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 . . .
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 . . .
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