Bicycle Report Cards, State-By-State

It's that time of year.

Yesterday, rough winds did shake the darling buds of May. Today the air is calmer but for some--especially my students, not to mention me--it is not a temperate day, lovely as it is.

You see, the semester is nearing its end. Some time after Memorial Day, my students will get their report cards in the same sense that we "dial" telephone numbers and "ship" items.   That is to say, no school or university (at least, none that I know of) uses cards anymore:  Students get their grades online.

In a similar fashion, all fifty states of the US have just received "report cards."  They weren't, however, graded in English or Math or History.  Their grades didn't come from me or any other professor or teacher, and their cards weren't issued by any educational insititution.

Instead, they came from the League of American Bicyclists. The "grades"--or, more precisely, scores--each state received were in categories that included Legislation & Enforcement, Policies & Programs, Infrastructure & Funding, Education & Encouragement and Evaluation & Planning.

This is not CNN's electoral map.  Yes, the states deemed most "bike friendly" are in blue.  But the next-most "bike friendly" are red.  Strangely, the states labelled least bike-friendly are in green!

So, which state finished at "the top of the class"?  That would be the Evergreen State--Washington--which also finished first last year.  So, while the efforts of advocates and planners there are to be commended, the ranking is bittersweet, as the state still scored only 66 out of 100 in both years for "bicycle friendliness".

Its neighbor to the south, Oregon, came in sixth and California eighth. Some of the states you'd expect to be high in the rankings--such as Massachusetts (fourth) and Colorado (seventh) are also there.  Not surprisingly, most of the states near the top of the table are in the Far West or Northeastern parts of the US. 

Also not surprisingly, the most of the lowest-ranking states are in the South, with Alabama bringing up the rear (with a score of 12.4, which was actually worse than their 2014 tally of 17.4) and Kentucky immediately in front of them.

My home state of New York ranked 29th in both years, though its score improved slightly from 33.9 to 35.4.

If my students had scores like those, I'd have appointments with my department chair and a dean--and they wouldn't be for lunch!

I Hate It So Much I'd Pay You To Take It. Buy It!

From the time I became a serious cyclist, I always heard other cyclists--and bike shop employees--say, "Saddles are a personal thing."  Then they would insist that whatever saddles they rode would be right for you.

A saddle indeed the most personal choice most cyclists make.  A rider's anatomical quirks as well as riding style (which can be just as quirky) are among the factors that go into choosing what one will sit on while riding.  For the lucky cyclist, the first saddle he or she tries will be the right one.  For the less fortunate, choosing a saddle will be a process of trial and error.

Given what I've mentioned, perhaps it's not surprising that cyclists are more passionate--and, sometimes, defensive--about their chosen saddle than about any other component they pick.  And riders are more vehement in expressing dislike about seats they don't like than about, say, shifters that don't work out for them.

Very few cyclists, though, have expressed their hatred of a saddle quite like this:

Well, I can tell you exactly how many miles I've put on this saddle:  1203 over 14 days.  I know this because having had several leather Brooks saddles previously and loving every one of them, I didn't give a second thought to throwing it on right before a tour.  I'm an idiot and I know better.  Well, 14 days was long enough to develop a truly vitriolic hatred for this saddle.  I loathe this saddle.  I have never loathed a saddle as much as this one.  And I've used some truly horrific saddles in my day.  None compare.

I would pay you to take this thing off my hands.

Anyhow, the Cambium C15 is the Swallow-style (ie, same dimensions) version of the non-leather Cambium series and while it was billed as black, it's more of a brown.  Perhaps it faded as a result of all of the scorn I've heaped upon it, perhaps it was the sun or maybe it was always that way.  This was part of the initial C15 run, not the more recent version.  It's otherwise in good shape.  Everything is rebuildable in any event.

It should go without saying, but it won't, no returns on this one.

See my other auctions, I'm selling a few others.

The above is an eBay listing.  I found it very funny that the lister, in trying to sell a saddle, says, "I would pay you to take this thing off my hands".

What's even funnier is that, as I write this, the saddle has fourteen bids and a price of $61.65, with thee days and four hours remaining in the auction. 

Hmm...Maybe the seller is operating on the Second Avenue Deli principle.  You know:  People love the chicken soup and other delicacies at SAD, but they'd be disappointed if the waiters weren't rude and sarcastic.  In fact, some people go there precisely because the servers are so inhospitable. 

So, perhaps, the next time I sell something on eBay, I should say how much I hated it and that I wouldn't wish it on an enemy.  Very interesting.


 

Riding To Work

"How do you do it?"

You've probably heard that from at least one colleague if you bike to work.

You suggest that co-worker could do the same.  You'll most likely hear one of these objections:

"It's too far!"

"What about the cars?  Trucks?  Buses?"

"It looks like a lot of hassle."

"How can I wear these clothes and ride?"

"What if it rains?"

"What if I get a flat tire?"

"I'll be too tired when I come in!"

The funny thing is that even after people see that you ride every day, that you haven't missed a day of work and you're refreshed, in a good mood and productive, they're still convinced cycling to work won't work for them.

Now, if someone's  commute is a two-hour drive or train ride one-way, it may well be "too far" to bike.  However, if such a commuter lives a couple of miles from a railroad station, he or she could benefit from pedaling there.  Said commuter could lock up a "clunker" at the station or ride a folding bike and bring it aboard the train, which would provide easy and quick transport from the train to the office.

From FunCheapSF

Someone who's not accustomed to riding in traffic does, of course, need grow accustomed to it.  That happens pretty quickly:  The key the is to remember that the bicycle is a vehicle, with the privileges and responsibilities that attach to it. Of course, one shouldn't pedal in an interstate, or even on the shoulder of one.  Which leads me to my next point:  Bike lanes are not, in any way, safer than streets (especially given how poorly-designed and -constructed some lanes are).  The best way to ride is to take a lane, keep to a line and remain as visible as possible to drivers. Do that, and cars, trucks and other motor vehicles will just seem like bigger fish in the sea you're swimming.

All of the other objections noncyclists raise are about issues that can be planned for or around.  Use good tires, and flats are less frequent than expected.  When they happen, they can be fixed or a tube replaced, and everyone should to make such a repair (or ride in the vicinity of bike shops that will be open during your commute).  As far as weather goes:  A new bike commuter can decide whether to ride "rain or shine".  For some, it might be a good idea not to ride in bad weather, at least in the beginning.  

And, when it comes to work attire, people have all sorts of ways of dealing with it. Some can ride in the clothes they wear on the job.  Others can duck into a bathroom and change.  (If you work in a college or school, you might have access to locker rooms and showers).  Still others keep changes of clothes at work. 

I think that the real objection that underlies the ones people usually express is that they'll "stand out" if they ride to work.  They might be seen as "weird", eccentric or vaguely subversive. I can understand that:  I have worked in offices and for organizations in which I was the only one riding to work.  I'm sure some co-workers laughed at me, and in at least one school in which I taught, students had less respect for me than they would have had I driven in to teach them.  Now there are many more bike commuters here in New York, as well as in other cities, than there were in my youth.  However, if you are living in working in a suburban area (or a city that feels more suburban than, say, San Francisco or Boston), you may have to "educate" your co-workers--not to mention the drivers you encounter on your way, who may not realize that you have as much right to (and have probably paid more for) the road. 

In one way, bicycle commuting is like a lot of other things:  Do it long enough, and it will seem absolutely normal--to you and, later, to those who try to dissuade or discourage you from it.  And you'll wonder how you didn't do it! 

The Curtain

Yesterday, for Mother's Day, I did the things one should do. In other words, I called my mother and all of the other people in my life who are mothers.

I probably could have gone to brunch with some straight women and gay men I know. Really.  Here in New York, there are restaurants and diners and cafes where you see exactly that:  divorced or otherwise single mothers within a decade or two of my age who may or may not have, or have had children, and men who--depending on when they "came out"--might have been married to such women.  Or, perhaps, they never were married, or they are married now to men and have kids.  Whatever the case, they take Mother's Day as seriously as anyone else.

I wouldn't have minded spending a quiet Sunday morning and/or afternoon with any of them.  But a mist sashayed across the higher windows of the taller buildings near my apartment and across the East River in Manhattan. But there was no threat of rain and, even though the sky was mostly overcast, it somehow hinted that the sun would come through.  And the air was pleasantly cool.

So, of course, I hopped on my bike--Arielle, my Mercian Audax,to be exact--and pedaled toward Forest Park, then the Rockaways.  As Woodhaven Boulevard turned to Beach Channel Boulevard, the mist fluttered like a scrim over treetops in front of low brick and shingle houses, and turned to a lazy ripple over the elevated train tracks of Liberty Avenue.  

After riding through Howard Beach, I glided--yes, I was feeling really good--across the bridge to a narrow strip of land that was nearly obliterated during Superstorm Sandy.  On either side of me, the mist hemmed the waves of Jamaica Bay.  Then, after I crossed another bridge into the Rockaways, I rode along the ocean.   The sun peeked out and gave the illusion of dissipating the clouds and fog.  Instead, the mist draped itself over houses and trees and the Atlantic Beach bridge, all just ahead of me.

That drape would not turn itself into a curtain of clouds or a shroud of rain.  Instead, it hung in the air--always about fifteen minutes ahead of me, it seemed--all the way to Point Lookout.

Then I rode with the mist behind me--and a veil of swirled clouds, again with no hint of rain, ahead of me all the way to the bridge from the Rockaways to Beach Channel.  On that strip of land almost lost to Sandy, the clouds broke.  I looked behind me:  The mist dissipated.  And sunlight filled the streets lined with patches of lawns and gardens that drank what fizzled and hissed from sprinklers.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day!

I suspect that many of gave your mothers flowers, candy or any of the other gifts we associate with this day.  I'll bet that none of you gifted your mother one of these:

In case you want to buy one for Mom, look here.

If you did, you must have even more of a cycling family than the Simeses or Herses ever were!

Many years ago, I gave my mother a Peugeot mixte for Mother's Day.  As far as I know, she never rode it.  It's probably the one and only thing for which I've ever had to forgive her! ;-)

But there have been so many other things she's done to make it possible for me to ride and do many of the other things that have made my life interesting and fulfilling.  And, while she never accompanied me on any of my bike trips, she has been with me on the journey of my life--and in the particular the part that brought me from being her son to being her daughter.  

Thank you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day to you!