"This Was The Commute That Was" Part IVa

Many, many gigabytes have been devoted to the whys and wherefores of bicycle commuting. So many "tips" and "how-tos" are available, I have become bored by the genre. It is much more interesting to figure out how to make a particular ride work, especially one I am on (but I am fond of Chris Balish's How to Live Well Without Owning a Car.

I have spent countless hours trying to work out the particulars of biking to work. Many people just reverse their route for am and pm commuting, but that doesn't work for me. You see, I must commute to Valley Station. For Louisvillians, this is equivalent to saying "I want to commit suicide on Dixie Die-way." For non-Louisvillians, this is equivalent to saying "I am cycling to Dante's 7th level of Hell." Not only is DIXIE a Bad Road, it is ugly (stripmallstripmallstripmall-redlight-stripmallstripmallstripmall-redlight-stripmallstripmallstripmall-adultentertainment-stripmallstripmallstripmall-accidentscene) But for many Louisvillians it is the only known route to Valley Station.

Can a bike survive it? With the rider intact?

Well, yes, with some important modifications to the route, the most important being Don't Bike On Dixie. This is how I managed getting to work car-free one morning this past fall (coming home is another story, literally).

First I get someone else to take godson to preschool. Once that's done I can head off to meet my Destiny.

I leave about 25 minutes earlier than if I was driving and head west down Hill Street to DIXIE (it only takes about 10 minutes to get there).

Like many bus riders, I wait somewhat impatiently, "Where is the bus? Where is the bus? YES! There it is!"

My bike and I get on board and settle in for the long ride out to Valley Station. Usually I happily listen to the Two Johns Podcast. Occasionally I'll chat with a fellow commuter. The guy with the blue bandanna is friendly. Once I was engaged for the whole ride by a guy on work-release. It's nice to interact with different sorts of people. Sometimes.

I have noticed that most Louisvillians eschew the bus. I used to do this, too, until I was stuck without a car in my early twenties. I discovered that riding the bus wasn't scary or difficult. When I used public transit in other cities I realized that only using a car was really silly. Why should I drive around looking for a parking place when the bus stop is right by the front door? TARC isn't always the best choice, but sometimes it is just right(like on my morning no-car commute).

And did you notice that cool bike rack on the front of the bus?

Hey! Here's my stop (think. of course!)

Get it? "ponder"?

"De Nada"? . . . . nevermind

I have to wait a little to cross Dixie . . .

. . . but once I do I'm ready to cross the RR Tracks (which head straight to my neighborhood; if only I could bike on the rails), roll through the little neighborhood by my school and then head up to little ol' Layne Elementary.

The whole journey takes about an hour, twice as long as driving. It isn't faster than a car. It depends on an infernal internal combustion engine i.e. polluting metal beastie. It isn't free ($1.50 bus fare). Why do it at all?

1. I am SOOOO much happier and more relaxed when I get to work.

2. I get to ride my bike home.

This Was The Ride That Was, Part III

In the Spring of 2010 I tried cyclocross for the first time. In Shelbyville there was a little race organized by Main Street Bikes that was perfect for me - almost no one was there and there wasn't any mud. It turns out the women's race had three contenders -me, a very good 13 year old, and SURPRISE!! the gf. She was a last minute entry, lured into the race by the guarantee of getting a workout in and the vibe being so mellow and non-competitive. A bike shop dude lent her his schwanky mountain bike and she borrowed a helmet from her son. A true iconoclast, she even chose to forgo spandex and race in her khakis. Thank god I beat her (but the 13year old beat me, easily, by more yards than I could count; frankly, I lost sight of her early on).

I don't have a broken nose, but I do have chronic allergies and wear one of those nose strips. It helps a lot and wouldn't you know? People are so kind, always asking if I'm okay while they stare at my nose.

I'm riding a decade-or-so-old Kestrel mountain bike. For those of you aren't in the know, this means that I'm not serious about 'cross e.g. fat tires with too-big tread, carrying water bottle, not a cyclocross bike, visor on my helmet, not enough vents in my helmet (as a more race-worthy helmet would have), and I'm not wearing cycling shoes with clipless pedals.

That disgusted look on my face? I can't believe how far ahead the gf is!! How is this possible?! How much harder must I ride?! Roll on, Columbia . . . .

I love this picture. The sky, the field . . . and me hunting down my unsuspecting prey - ha ha ha.

"I will not be beat by khaki pants. I will not be beat by khaki pants. I will not be beat by khaki pants."

The photographer can only catch me from the back as I sweep past him, and his mom. Ha ha ha!!

I did some other races in the summer and fall. Races with clipless pedals, skinnier tires, and the same commuter helmet. But none of them had the memorable elements of this race: a competitor wearing khaki cotton twill pants and a competitor whom I passed.

I have higher hopes for 2011.

"this was the ride that was" part 2

Last Spring I spent 3 days biking across central Ky with my friend Anna. We started at Long Run Park (eastern Jefferson County; we considered starting from my house, but that would mean 15-20 miles of city biking which is where we usually ride, why do that again?) and ended in Maysville. Neither of us had done any bike touring before this trip.

On our first day we went to Frankfort. No, we did not go on US 60 (too much traffic). Instead, I cobbled together a route of backroads for a beautiful and mostly low-traffic trip (I highly recommend the Kentucky Atlas and Gazetteer).

We got to downtown Frankfort and quickly found a bar with a good happy hour special on PBR. After a few of those we got directions to our campsite from a nice lady on the street. ADVICE: don't get directions when you've had a few beers. We accidentally got on a highway (ack!!), but eventually made it to the campground (as you can see, my tent is bit jacked-up).

The next day we took a few wrong turns, but eventually made it to Cynthiana. More beer (with Mexican food this time) and we soon realized there was not a campground anywhere around. After riding around for awhile we finally asked the firefighters hanging out at the station where we could camp. The Chief called up the Mayor and we got permission to stay at the city park (view from the tent). Small towns can be so cool.

We breakfasted (see below) and then took off for Maysville. Below is Anna's bike.

In Maysville we found another bar with fries and beer right downtown (although getting to downtown required getting on four-lane highway - sorry about that, Anna). We camped near the river right outside town. It would have been lovely, but a barge blew its horn all night and in the morning it rained. That's how I found out my tent leaks. When I woke up I was floating, there was so much water on the floor.

Lunch in Bagdad, birthplace of Martha Layne Collins (1st woman governor of KY). There is a grassy spot out back to picnic in and inside is a wee deli.

A sweet little road on the way to Cynthiana.

I made a mistake and took us a few miles out of the way. This view is down the hill we just climbed. It may not look like much, but around the bend it gets scaaaaarrrrryyyy.

At the top of a ridge - it was very windy and with all our gear packed onto our bikes it was a fight sometimes to keep from swerving across the road.

A friendly Cynthiana firefighter.

I'm hoping to do another trip this coming Spring.