I’ll soon have more to post about biking in New York with the kids, pastries from Balthazar, toddlers gone wild at Tompkins Square park, picnicking with friends at 9th and C, and other delights. There are many pics that need pulling off the phone, but I thought I’d post one that had me thrilled.

Check out what they done gone and built in Chelsea, going south on 9th Avenue:

That’s a real honest-to-god bike lane. Note, going from right to left: three lanes of traffic, one lane that’s parking or a left turn lane (depending on which way the cross street goes), a physical barrier, and a full bike lane. You can’t see it very well in this shot, but the traffic light at the corner, to the left of the bike lane, is a stop light exclusively for regulating the bike lane (the red, yellow, and green lights are actually in the shape of a bicycle). The light just to the right of it regulates the left turn lane, allowing cars to safely cross the bike lane.

Riding down this section of 9th, with my daughter in her kid-seat, I felt like the city recognized us as legitimate traffic and took our safety seriously. I felt like I was on a road built with bikes at the core of the design, rather than one where the design half-heartedly acknowledges that bikes are vehicles and then throws us into a raging current of cabs, busses, and SUVs. It felt really, really good.

That is infrastructure you can believe in, my friends.

[UPDATE]: fixed the lane order, here’s a document that lays out what I’m trying to describe, around page 19 or so. There’s more benefits than I’d considered, like a shorter crossing distance for pedestrians and a barrier to turning the wrong way on a one-way street. Neat.

It should also be noted that food messengers don’t seem to understand that the awesome new bike lane only goes one way, and that the northbound bike lane is over on 8th Ave. Or, they get it and don’t care. I’d typically blow off that kind of anarchy because, ya know, it’s New York and they gotta make a living right? But this is a real, permanent, well-designed bike road we’re talkin’ about, it’s undeniably a one-way thing, and going the wrong way on it makes it unsafe the same way that driving a car the wrong way up a one-way street does. So fuck that, ticket the living shit out of ‘em. Growing up ain’t always easy, ya know?

[UPDATE AGAIN]: This really was just supposed to be a short post, but I ran into this StreetFilms short about efforts to create more separated bike lanes in New York, it seems appropriate to throw it on the stack. I wonder if Mayor Fenty’s seen any of this. It’s quite a vision of what a city can be.

On the commute home last night:

• Coming up T St. NW, I come upon this fellow with his truck parked across the bike lane, which was both narrowing the lane for cars and forcing cyclists out into the traffic trying to get around his pickup. He had, oh, 8 bags of mulch or soil or something like that. I let him know that there was a parking spot 14 feet behind where he was double parked, and he yelled back that he was unloading. Evidently, he couldn’t be bothered to move those bags 14 extra feet, so commute traffic had to accommodate him.
• Don’t mistake my anecdotal evidence for real data, but I’m pretty sure that I’m one of the very few cyclists in D.C. who stop at lights and stop signs downtown. So I’m stopped at a light on New Hampshire, with about a foot and a half or so between me and the car stopped next to me. A woman on a road bike in business casual mode squeezes between me and the car, then blows through the intersection forcing cross traffic to brake. I only realized she was shooting the narrow gap between the car and I as it was happening, because she didn’t see fit to break her ninja silence at any point during her approach. She looked annoyed with me as she snaked past.
• Coming down the east side of the Taylor St. overpass, where it crosses over the Red Line, I’m doing about 30, keeping up with traffic, and taking the lane. Much to my astonishment, a yuppie scumbag (now now, no need for that) young professional in a Yukon passes me on a pretty tight part of the street, with traffic oncoming, giving me about a foot of space on my left. Since I’m on pace with traffic, I actually have to slow down to let him back in (or not get hit by him as he floats right, though I can’t say for sure if he’d have actually hit me). I look into the Yuke’s window to see if he’s doing this because he’s pissed at me, and he’s got the blankest, most apathetic look on his face imaginable.

Some days, there’s just no winning. Last night’s ride didn’t trip any serious pressure valves, but it did depress me enough to consider riding the Red Line for the rest of this week to relax and maybe catch up on some reading. I woke up and shook that off, it’s a beautiful day and I couldn’t let the jerks steal my morning ride.

But it did get me thinking about whether or not it was realistic to expect anything but ignorance, arrogance, and self-centeredness from our single-strand society. If I’m not well acquainted with the people who provide my sustenance, or my entertainment, and my job doesn’t involve me directly providing anything to the people in my community, then where’s the value in kindness, consideration, or humility? Why wouldn’t I adopt a philosophy of I got mine, now fuck you? What’s the penalty for treating my neighbors and fellow citizens contemptuously in the pursuit of my own goals, or the benefit of putting my own desires aside for the good of the community (much less my country or the world)?

I mean, aside from avoiding a physical attack. But is that what it’s coming down to, where the only reason for me to signal a turn is so that I don’t end up having another driver pull a bat or a gun on me? Is that the end state of a society where we dispense money and fuel from machines that say “Thank You”, order every scrap of our Chinese-made clothes and every shiny gadget from the internet, get our food from factories a thousand miles away, and only find pleasure in entertainment made by professionals? That courtesy is self-defense, and nothing more?

(I should make clear that, for me, the answer to “why” is: “My kindness, consideration, and humility shouldn’t be a response to you as a reward or punishment. That’s about who I am, and who I want to be, not who you are or whether or not you deserve it.” I should also make clear that I don’t think I’m particularly overflowing in those qualities, but I care enough to keep workin’ on it. I don’t know what other people’s answer to those questions are.)

Makes one feel like heading into eastern Pennsylvania, growing a mustache-less beard, and learning to live Amish just to see what it’s like. Hell, I don’t even need a barn, but I’d sure like to raise one in the neighborhood just to build something with my neighbors and share some lemonade. Ya know? It also makes me want to redouble my efforts to find a local bike shop in which I don’t feel like a plebe diminished by the whithering gaze of a barrista with a bone through his nose because I made the mistake of ordering a “large” coffee instead of a “venti”. Or maybe to open one.

Of course, I could be wrong, and I’ll probably do something on the way home tonight out of obliviousness that will convince someone else that the world is gone to Hell. And maybe I just rode through the wake of a few people having a bad day. Fuck do I know, anyway?

I had an errand to run downtown today, and I got an early jump on it so I could ride in the relative cool of the morning before we head towards the upper 80’s (which is a nice break from the upper 90’s we’ve had for the past couple days). My old commute to Capitol South flowed down the east side of the city, through residential areas that I’ve found to be pretty mellow traffic-wise. Often I’d float along, keeping up with traffic or even passing it by, and notice that the people in the cars weren’t having any fun. I’d sorta feel sorry for ‘em.

This morning’s route cut southwest across the city on some much busier streets, which left me feeling more vulnerable and brought my adrenaline up a bit. I found trouble on the way, getting into a spirited disagreement with a fellow commuter. The odd thing was that on any of the multi-lane, really busy streets, I was able to ride in and with traffic without trouble. But going south on 4th St NW through beautiful LeDroit Park (which is a slow, narrow street featuring a series of speed bumps), a motorist gave me an unfriendly honk before passing me dangerously. He also advised me that I should be riding on the sidewalk, and that the street was no bike lane. He also said, “fuck” quite a bit between the other words.

Now, the gentleman clearly was unaware of the municipal codes regarding bicycling on city streets, or the law regarding passing another vehicle safely and legally. Traffic ahead of us was stopped, passing me gained him nothing, so it’s unclear what advantage he was pursuing.

But none of that concerned me much at that point. What did concern me was the rather cavalier regard this hostile motorist had for my safety. Closely following the startled fear was intense, red-hot anger that I associate with car commuting. I loudly explained to him that I was well within my rights to be riding on the road, and that I was traffic.

It would be a lie of omission if I didn’t also mention that I used two shorthand terms that 1.) accused him of having sexual relations with his mother, and 2.) asserted that he was a provider of oral sex to men. (Please don’t construe this as meaning that I disparage those who are skilled at fellatio, it makes the world a better place, salute.) He attempted to rebut my points, but I let him know that I was no longer interested in continuing the discussion, and then invited him to stop talking. The words “fuck” and “fucking” were sprinkled liberally throughout my invitation.

Well, that didn’t get either of us anywhere. I’m reasonably certain that our discussion didn’t result in his rethinking his beliefs on sharing the road, and for my part I came away trying to remember how that Supreme Court decision came out regarding handguns in D.C., and whether or not I could apply for a bike-mount holster permit. And I don’t like either of those results.

One of the reasons I despise driving in the city is that driving among people who are casual about safety and oblivious to the flow of the world around them annoys the shit out of me, which accumulates over the course of the trip and converts to rage. And I don’t like being that way, especially when I’m piloting a few thousand pounds of metal. Bicycling, on the other hand, frequently melts away whatever concerns I had when I got on the bike, and leaves me feeling more alive at the end of the trip than when I started. What’s not to like about that?

So this is disconcerting. I don’t want to go back to the world of road rage, and I don’t want to inspire it in my fellow citizens. I’m mostly friendly to motorists and give them the benefit of the doubt when they violate my vehicular rights, because everyone makes mistakes, right? I’ve certainly pulled boneheaded maneuvers.

But there’s thousands of drivers in this town whose attitudes towards sharing the road with cyclists range between dull-edged apathy to aggressive hostility. It’s beyond my abilities to do anything about them, so I’m trying to figure out what to do about me, but some part of me thinks that without strong infrastructural support and traffic enforcement from the city, this is just how it’s going to be. Until the city actually treats us like traffic, the public won’t either.

I don’t know, ultimately I need to learn how to blow these things off, especially in those circumstances when my gorge rises because I feel like my safety’s been threatened. What do you do?

NOTE: I updated verb tense in a couple places, and made a couple edits for clarity.

First off, just got word from a friend that design and construction of the Metropolitan Branch Trail is back on! Though this news may not shake the foundations of D.C., it’s a big fat deal in our neck of the woods:

Note: This map was taken and adapted from WashingtonsBestAddress.com. Kinda says it all about how D.C. feels about Brookland and company, doesn’t it?

The current commute options involve routes with shoulderless stretches on major arterials that people around here mistake for freeways. Once you’ve made your way to the south or west of the big, blank NE section you see on the map, things improve dramatically. But our part of D.C. is, if not quite cut off, surrounded by routes that increase the pucker factor when riding with the kids.

So having a North/South connection to bike-friendlier routes will be delightful. They’re also going to connect the Metropolitan Branch Trail with the Northwest Branch Trail in West Hyattsville, as well as connecting it to the Capitol Crescent Trail up in Silver Springs (and that’s gonna be a real nice loop, by gawd). Great news!

And then there’s this: my wife said something really, really sweet to me last night.

She prefaced by mentioning how for her whole life, she’s always liked beater bikes, and never cared much about performance or tune. And how, when it comes to tools and things I use frequently, the reasons I research and obsess and will spend more for one over another have always eluded her (but she knows that about me and loves me anyway).

But she’s been riding my Long Haul Trucker quite a bit lately, and she told me last night that it is the nicest bike she’s ever ridden. She mentioned that, at first, it felt kinda twitchy to her, and she didn’t like the position. But since then, she’s really gotten to like it, and she’s never ridden a bike that felt that good.

Needless to say, I’m still turned on. “By your Girly or your Surly?” you quip cleverly. I can only reply, “Yes.”

Via UrbanVelo, One Got Fat, a 1963 bicycle safety film, featuring 9 kids, wearing monkey masks and tails, 8 of whom meet grisly ends to goofy music. Great bikes, great clothes, outstanding acting. The plot… the subtext… it’s truly excellent. Think you can recognize the voice of the narrator?

It’s Edward Everett Horton, a distinguished performer in radio, television, and movies over 5 decades, and who was the narrator for the Fractured Fairy Tales segment of Rocky and Bullwinkle. (That’s the one that made the light bulb appear over my head.)