Archive for General

My latest post, in which I admit to doping

There was a time in my life, not so long ago — okay, maybe longer than I care to admit — when cycling was my life.

It was right after my starving writer phase, which, as it turns out, isn’t nearly as romantic as it sounds when you’re the one starving. And since no one wanted to read my writing – or more precisely, no one wanted to pay me so other people could read my writing (whoa, déjà vu!) – I shifted my focus to something that paid every bit as well.

So for the next 6 months or so, I rode my bike.

I built my own wheels. Stripped my bike down to the bearings and rebuilt it from the ground up to make sure every part was lubed, tightened and adjusted to perfection. I stretched. I read about cycling. I dreamed about cycling.

And I rode. At least 50 miles a day, every day. Other than the occasional attentions of a cute little pastry chef, that was my life, from the time I got up until I slid my aching thighs back into bed.

And I would have snorted peanut butter, black tar heroin or thermonuclear waste if I thought it would make me a better rider.

I’ve been thinking about that lately, after our local Bike Snob pointed out yet another cyclist caught doping, on a team dedicated to riders with questionable reps.

I’ve written before about my disappointment when Floyd Landis lost his appeal, even though my initial reaction, as I watched him race, was that he had to be on something to rebound the way he did after bonking so badly the day before.

It also broke my heart when fellow Colorado boy Tyler Hamilton was busted. And I’ve long wanted to believe that Lance Armstrong is merely super-human, despite the insistence of the French, as well as Greg LeMond’s apparent insistence that he was the only clean Tour de France winner since Maurice Garin crossed the finish line in 1903.

(Am I the only one to notice that only Americans with names starting with L are allowed to win le Tour? Which means I’ll be putting my money on Levi Leipheimer if Astana can get back in.)

Then again, who’s to say that the great racers of the pre-testing era, like Bernard Hinault or the legendary Eddy Merckx, weren’t on something themselves? There’s no reason to believe they were, of course, just as there’s no proof they weren’t, other than the fact that they dominated their eras every bit as much as Armstrong did his.

But they weren’t tested, so we’ll never know for sure. And even getting repeatedly tested over a seven year period doesn’t seem to convince some people.

But then, that’s what we do. We take things.

Because if there’s something we think will make us ride a little better, a little farther, a little faster, we’ll try it. Whether it’s Lance Armstrong’s energy drink or a shot of gel for that extra boost in the middle of a ride.

Don’t believe me? Just check out the checkout counter of your nearest bike shop, and count the number or gels, bars, shots and other assorted sugar-based supplements. Or pick up a copy of any cycling magazine and see if the supplement ads outnumber the bike ads this month.

It just seems to me that there’s not a lot of difference between the creatine & amino shakes I downed back then, and doping with EPO or testosterone. One is legal, while the others aren’t. But they all build strength and boost performance.

It’s just a matter of degree.

Timur explores downtown, while a group of riders take a slightly longer tour around the city. Will manages to get back home from Newport Beach car free, despite a series of rail-based misadventures. And this just in, Damien and Gary announces that the Cyclist’s Bill of Rights has been passed by the L.A. City Council, not that it will mean anything if our local bureaucrats don’t pay any attention to the city leaders. Still, we all owe a big round of thanks to the Bike Writers Collective, who not only kicked it all off, but pushed it over the goal line.

Thank you, guys. We owe you.

My latest post, in which I admit to doping

There was a time in my life, not so long ago — okay, maybe longer than I care to admit — when cycling was my life.

It was right after my starving writer phase, which, as it turns out, isn’t nearly as romantic as it sounds when you’re the one starving. And since no one wanted to read my writing – or more precisely, no one wanted to pay me so other people could read my writing (whoa, déjà vu!) – I shifted my focus to something that paid every bit as well.

So for the next 6 months or so, I rode my bike.

I built my own wheels. Stripped my bike down to the bearings and rebuilt it from the ground up to make sure every part was lubed, tightened and adjusted to perfection. I stretched. I read about cycling. I dreamed about cycling.

And I rode. At least 50 miles a day, every day. Other than the occasional attentions of a cute little pastry chef, that was my life, from the time I got up until I slid my aching thighs back into bed.

And I would have snorted peanut butter, black tar heroin or thermonuclear waste if I thought it would make me a better rider.

I’ve been thinking about that lately, after our local Bike Snob pointed out yet another cyclist caught doping, on a team dedicated to riders with questionable reps.

I’ve written before about my disappointment when Floyd Landis lost his appeal, even though my initial reaction, as I watched him race, was that he had to be on something to rebound the way he did after bonking so badly the day before.

It also broke my heart when fellow Colorado boy Tyler Hamilton was busted. And I’ve long wanted to believe that Lance Armstrong is merely super-human, despite the insistence of the French, as well as Greg LeMond’s apparent insistence that he was the only clean Tour de France winner since Maurice Garin crossed the finish line in 1903.

(Am I the only one to notice that only Americans with names starting with L are allowed to win le Tour? Which means I’ll be putting my money on Levi Leipheimer if Astana can get back in.)

Then again, who’s to say that the great racers of the pre-testing era, like Bernard Hinault or the legendary Eddy Merckx, weren’t on something themselves? There’s no reason to believe they were, of course, just as there’s no proof they weren’t, other than the fact that they dominated their eras every bit as much as Armstrong did his.

But they weren’t tested, so we’ll never know for sure. And even getting repeatedly tested over a seven year period doesn’t seem to convince some people.

But then, that’s what we do. We take things.

Because if there’s something we think will make us ride a little better, a little farther, a little faster, we’ll try it. Whether it’s Lance Armstrong’s energy drink or a shot of gel for that extra boost in the middle of a ride.

Don’t believe me? Just check out the checkout counter of your nearest bike shop, and count the number or gels, bars, shots and other assorted sugar-based supplements. Or pick up a copy of any cycling magazine and see if the supplement ads outnumber the bike ads this month.

It just seems to me that there’s not a lot of difference between the creatine & amino shakes I downed back then, and doping with EPO or testosterone. One is legal, while the others aren’t. But they all build strength and boost performance.

It’s just a matter of degree.

Timur explores downtown, while a group of riders take a slightly longer tour around the city. Will manages to get back home from Newport Beach car free, despite a series of rail-based misadventures. And this just in, Damien and Gary announces that the Cyclist’s Bill of Rights has been passed by the L.A. City Council, not that it will mean anything if our local bureaucrats don’t pay any attention to the city leaders. Still, we all owe a big round of thanks to the Bike Writers Collective, who not only kicked it all off, but pushed it over the goal line.

Thank you, guys. We owe you.

Today’s post, in which I call long distance

Switchboard.

Hi, uh…is the Big Guy in?

Hold please.

“…Heaven…must be missing an angel…”

God here.

Uh, the God?

Yo.

All knowing, king of kings, creator of heaven and earth…?

Look, was there something you needed? I’m kinda busy here.

Sorry. Just didn’t think you’d be, you know, so easy to reach.

Good timing. Just got off a call on the Pope’s direct line.

The Pope has a direct line?

Yeah. Just wish he’d use it a little more often, you know?

Yeah.

So?

Oh. Sorry. See, I’ve been working in-house for a company out in the Marina this week…

Mmmm hmmmm. All knowing, remember?

Oh, right. Sorry.

Stop saying that.

Okay, sor…uh, yeah, so I noticed when I was driving back from work…

You could ride, you know.

Well, there’s no place to shower, see, and I have to run errands at lunch.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

Anyway, I’ve been worried about some of the cyclists I see when I’m driving. I mean, some of these guys are out there at rush hour, riding in the dark, with no light, no helmet and no common sense, cutting in and out of traffic like it was daylight. Like this one guy, dressed all in black on a dark street with no streetlights, if he hadn’t been backlit by another car’s headlights, I never would have known he was there.

And…?

I was hoping you could do something for them, you know, like divine protection or something. ‘Cause they’re gonna need it if they keep riding like that.

Look, I’d like to help. Really, I would. But there’s only so much I can do.

But you’re…

All powerful. Yeah, I know. But it’s that free will thing. I can’t protect people from their own foolish choices.

Okay, I get it. But can we at least give them sharrows or something?

Take it up with city council. It’s a jurisdictional thing. I get the planets and stars, they get the city streets.

Bummer.

Yeah, you’d think they could at least get the damn streets paved.

Well, thanks anyway. Wish your son a Merry Christmas for me.

He’s Jewish.

Oh. Well, happy Hanuk…

(CLICK)

 

Alex dodges a hot pursuit in Culver City. And for once, they weren’t running cyclists out of town. Timur ruminates on his second Critical Mass. Town Mouse reminds us that there are more challenging surfaces for cycling than our crumbling city streets. Our local Bike Snob is shocked – shocked – to find a Rock Racing cyclist on dope. A couple local cycling clubs are holding Toy Rides for Tots. And finally, it turns out Gold Line stations may not be the best places to leave a bike.

Today’s post, in which I call long distance

Switchboard.

Hi, uh…is the Big Guy in?

Hold please.

“…Heaven…must be missing an angel…”

God here.

Uh, the God?

Yo.

All knowing, king of kings, creator of heaven and earth…?

Look, was there something you needed? I’m kinda busy here.

Sorry. Just didn’t think you’d be, you know, so easy to reach.

Good timing. Just got off a call on the Pope’s direct line.

The Pope has a direct line?

Yeah. Just wish he’d use it a little more often, you know?

Yeah.

So?

Oh. Sorry. See, I’ve been working in-house for a company out in the Marina this week…

Mmmm hmmmm. All knowing, remember?

Oh, right. Sorry.

Stop saying that.

Okay, sor…uh, yeah, so I noticed when I was driving back from work…

You could ride, you know.

Well, there’s no place to shower, see, and I have to run errands at lunch.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

Anyway, I’ve been worried about some of the cyclists I see when I’m driving. I mean, some of these guys are out there at rush hour, riding in the dark, with no light, no helmet and no common sense, cutting in and out of traffic like it was daylight. Like this one guy, dressed all in black on a dark street with no streetlights, if he hadn’t been backlit by another car’s headlights, I never would have known he was there.

And…?

I was hoping you could do something for them, you know, like divine protection or something. ‘Cause they’re gonna need it if they keep riding like that.

Look, I’d like to help. Really, I would. But there’s only so much I can do.

But you’re…

All powerful. Yeah, I know. But it’s that free will thing. I can’t protect people from their own foolish choices.

Okay, I get it. But can we at least give them sharrows or something?

Take it up with city council. It’s a jurisdictional thing. I get the planets and stars, they get the city streets.

Bummer.

Yeah, you’d think they could at least get the damn streets paved.

Well, thanks anyway. Wish your son a Merry Christmas for me.

He’s Jewish.

Oh. Well, happy Hanuk…

(CLICK)

 

Alex dodges a hot pursuit in Culver City. And for once, they weren’t running cyclists out of town. Timur ruminates on his second Critical Mass. Town Mouse reminds us that there are more challenging surfaces for cycling than our crumbling city streets. Our local Bike Snob is shocked – shocked – to find a Rock Racing cyclist on dope. A couple local cycling clubs are holding Toy Rides for Tots. And finally, it turns out Gold Line stations may not be the best places to leave a bike.

Today’s post, in which I call long distance

Switchboard.

Hi, uh…is the Big Guy in?

Hold please.

“…Heaven…must be missing an angel…”

God here.

Uh, the God?

Yo.

All knowing, king of kings, creator of heaven and earth…?

Look, was there something you needed? I’m kinda busy here.

Sorry. Just didn’t think you’d be, you know, so easy to reach.

Good timing. Just got off a call on the Pope’s direct line.

The Pope has a direct line?

Yeah. Just wish he’d use it a little more often, you know?

Yeah.

So?

Oh. Sorry. See, I’ve been working in-house for a company out in the Marina this week…

Mmmm hmmmm. All knowing, remember?

Oh, right. Sorry.

Stop saying that.

Okay, sor…uh, yeah, so I noticed when I was driving back from work…

You could ride, you know.

Well, there’s no place to shower, see, and I have to run errands at lunch.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

Anyway, I’ve been worried about some of the cyclists I see when I’m driving. I mean, some of these guys are out there at rush hour, riding in the dark, with no light, no helmet and no common sense, cutting in and out of traffic like it was daylight. Like this one guy, dressed all in black on a dark street with no streetlights, if he hadn’t been backlit by another car’s headlights, I never would have known he was there.

And…?

I was hoping you could do something for them, you know, like divine protection or something. ‘Cause they’re gonna need it if they keep riding like that.

Look, I’d like to help. Really, I would. But there’s only so much I can do.

But you’re…

All powerful. Yeah, I know. But it’s that free will thing. I can’t protect people from their own foolish choices.

Okay, I get it. But can we at least give them sharrows or something?

Take it up with city council. It’s a jurisdictional thing. I get the planets and stars, they get the city streets.

Bummer.

Yeah, you’d think they could at least get the damn streets paved.

Well, thanks anyway. Wish your son a Merry Christmas for me.

He’s Jewish.

Oh. Well, happy Hanuk…

(CLICK)

 

Alex dodges a hot pursuit in Culver City. And for once, they weren’t running cyclists out of town. Timur ruminates on his second Critical Mass. Town Mouse reminds us that there are more challenging surfaces for cycling than our crumbling city streets. Our local Bike Snob is shocked – shocked – to find a Rock Racing cyclist on dope. A couple local cycling clubs are holding Toy Rides for Tots. And finally, it turns out Gold Line stations may not be the best places to leave a bike.

Looking at the big picture

Call it the curse of an inquisitive mind.

Instead of just enjoying the moment, I have a habit of trying to figure out the big picture, and put it all in perspective.

Take last Friday’s Transportation Committee meeting, for instance. In retrospect, it feels like a watershed moment. But where, exactly, is that water flowing?

Some of it sprang from the Cyclists’ Bill of Rights, as the committee members voted to send it to the full City Council, with their recommendation for approval — although they did ask the City Attorney’s office to review it, as they should. Even though the odds of the lawyers keeping their hands off it are comparable to Barack Obama asking George W. Bush to stay on as ambassador to Iraq.

Ain’t gonna happen.

Then there was the unexpected support that cyclists received from the members of the committee. Or at least, unexpected to me, anyway.

Maybe people who had been more involved in this process had some inkling of the support we were about to receive. But based on my previous experiences with city hall, I was surprised, shocked, stunned and stupefied. And those are just the S’s.

In fact, the only thing more shocking was the audience.

A quick look around the room revealed an unexpectedly large turnout of riders, of nearly every possible description.

Old riders and young riders. Slow riders. Bicycle commuters. Fat tire fans and fixie fanatics. Roadies, off-roaders and racers. And everyone in between. About as disparate a group of two-wheelers as you’ll find anywhere, and all united, for once, in demanding their right to the roads of this fair city.

Except, for once, we didn’t have to. Which was probably the most shocking thing of all.

So what does it all mean?

It means we have friends at city hall. Or at the very least, people who understand the value of bicycling in reducing traffic congestion and smog, and are willing to support us in making this a more rideable — and livable — city.

Then again, as the Times’ Steve Hymon suggests, it’s not unusual for politicians to say they support something, as long as they don’t actually have to do anything. And the Cyclist’s Bill of Rights will be nothing more than a lot of pretty words until the city actually turns those concepts into concrete action.

It means that we all owe a big round of thanks to the people who started this process, back when the chances of success were every bit as infinitesimal as that of a black man becoming president, so that the latecomers — like me, for instance — could enjoy the fruits of their success. And take some small pride in jumping on the bandwagon before it crosses the finish line.

And it means I was wrong.

Because despite what Enci had to say following the good doctor’s Mandeville Canyon brake check, I really didn’t believe this city had a bicycling community. That unfortunate incident marked my introduction to the local cycling community; Friday’s meeting offered proof that it really exists as more than just a series of ships that pass in the bikeway.

It’s one thing for cyclists to unite in outrage when someone deliberately assaults our fellow riders — and forces us to confront that fact that it could have been any of us. But it’s quite another for such a widely varied group to come together and sit through a typically bureaucratic committee meeting in support of their rights as riders.

However, as Stephen Box’s latest post makes clear, we still have a long way to go.  It’s clear that the L.A. Department of Transportation’s Bikeway’s Department isn’t exactly on our side, whether due to an abundance of caution or outright opposition to cyclists on the roads. And as we’ve seen, there’s a large segment of the driving public of that doesn’t exactly welcome our presence on the road, either.

So yes, we won this round, and we should feel good about it. But we have a lot more work to do to turn that Bill of Rights into concrete action that ensures our place on the road, as well as the safety of every rider.

Because no one should ever have to risk their life — or sacrifice their rights — just to ride a bike.

And arriving home safely is the most important right of all.

 

San Diego cyclists are up in arms when a ghost bike is removed earlier than promised. As long as we’re talking about L.A.’s getaways, turns out it is possible to do Santa Barbara without a car. Streetsblog L.A.’s Damien Newton interviews C.I.C.L.E.’s new Exec Director. LACBC gets into the t-shirt biz. Lance’s comeback helps kill next year’s Tour de Georgia, while N.Y. cyclists complain police are writing tickets for using the bike lane. An Altadena weather cam catches what looks an awful lot like a UFO. And finally, this is why we live in L.A.

For once, I shut up and let someone else talk

Ever since last Friday’s Transportation Committee meeting, I’ve been filtering my own thoughts in preparation of discussing the subject today.

But then Damien Newton of Streetsblog Los Angeles added a comment to my initial post on the subject. And since not everyone clicks the link to read the comments, I thought for once, I’d just shut up and let someone else do the talking.

So take it away, Damien:

It was pretty awesome to see us pack a board room like that…a hundred cyclists, ready to take part in the process…Unfortunately, we’ll still see a lot of setbacks before we get the kind of changes we want to see, and I hope the enthusiasm stays high.

In the meantime, I wrote up a draft letter on bike licensing that people should feel free to use if they want to get City Council to take up this issue. Rosendahl, LaBonge and Parks all seemed ready to go…

councilmember.greuel@lacity.org, councilmember.alarcon@lacity.org, councilmember.parks@lacity.org, councilmember.rosendahl@lacity.org, Councilmember.labonge@lacity.org,


Dear Member of the City Council XXX,

As a committed cyclist, I wanted to take a moment to thank you for respect and concern you showed at last Friday’s committee hearing on bicycling, bicycling infrastructure, and bicyclists rights. During the sometimes heated hearing, you continued to listen to our concerns and questions.

While it is not going to be easy to recreate Los Angeles as a cycling haven, there is one thing that can be done quickly and that is placing a moratorium on the bicycle licensing program. Whether a mandatory program is necessary is a conversation that can’t occur until cyclists are not being harassed for not having a sticker license that is difficult to obtain and not being distributed by the LAPD as they are required to.

Unfortunately, as you saw on Friday, the LAPD doesn’t seem interested in suspending their uneven enforcement of bike licensing even after being confronted on the program several times by Council Members LaBonge, Parks and Rosendahl at last week’s hearing. To that end, we are asking that you not let go of this issue and that you quickly introduce a motion to suspend the program. We understand that Councilman Rosendahl will not be at tomorrow’s hearing, but that doesn’t mean you cannot take action.

Thank you for your attention to this matter. I look forward to working with you in the future on other bike-related issues.

Sincerely,

X

Just copy, paste and send. Or if you prefer, use Damien’s email as a template, and put it in your own words. But as one who has been an active rabble-rouser over the years, I can tell you that letters and emails like this really do make a difference.

I’ll be back with my own thoughts soon. In the meantime, you can read a recap of the meeting from Stephen Box of the Bike Writer’s Collective — creators of the Cyclist’s Bill of Rights (and a big thanks to all of you for your efforts). Or you can listen to Enci’s recording of the meeting here. 

Note: I’m waiving copyright for this post, in case anyone wants to repost Damien’s letter — and I’m sure it would be okay with him, as well. Right, Damien?

Sometimes, not riding is the right thing to do

Just as the weatherman predicted, this turned out to be a beautiful day. A perfect day for riding, in fact — warm, mostly sunny and almost no wind.

In fact, when I stepped outside this morning, every fiber of my being urged me to get on the bike, and not look back until I had at least 30 miles under my belt. Every fiber, that is, except the ones that insisted I belonged here, instead.

Maybe it had something to do with putting my money where my mouth is. Maybe it was a genuine desire to make a difference, or hold our elected officials accountable.

Or maybe I just wanted to meet some of those people I read every day. Like the ones you’ll find over there on the right.

So I rearranged my schedule, put off a couple of work calls, and made it out of here about 15 minutes after the meeting was supposed to start. Then there was the hour drive it took to travel 12 miles from West L.A. to downtown. (Note to L.A. traffic planners: if you really need another reason why we need to put more bikes — and fewer cars — on the roads, I’d say that just about sums it up.)

Combine that with the 15 minutes it took to hike from the parking lot and pass through security, and I got to the 3-hour City Council Transportation Committee meeting about the time it was halfway over. So I’ll let someone who was actually there for the whole thing tell you what happened.

What I saw, though, was surprising enough.

From a room full of cyclists of every possible description, to council members  — like Bill Rosendahl and Wendy Greuel — who actually seemed to give a damn about making this city a better place for bicyclists, not to mention the other people we share the roads with (or with whom we share the roads, if you prefer).

And to be fair, some of the other people who were there had good things to say about Tom LaBonge, who was called away before I arrived, and Bernard Parks, who was largely silent while I was there.

By the time the meeting was over, I was ready to kiss Rosendahl. Though I don’t think either one of us would have particularly enjoyed that.

The speakers from the L.A. Department of Transportation were a different matter. Sharrows have been used successfully in a number of cities for years now — even right here in Los Angeles, on the campus of UCLA. And yet, to hear them talk, you would assume it was some sort of new technology that must be tested in double blind safety studies to prove they won’t explode or turn us into brain-sucking mutant zombies.

And not only could they not figure what streets to put them on, they weren’t even sure if the paint would be too slick to ride on safely. (Note to LADOT: just call UCLA and ask them what the hell they used, since it hasn’t seemed to have killed anyone yet.)

They also weren’t sure sharrows could, or should, be painted on busy streets. (Note to LADOT: we already ride on those streets. We’d just like it to be a little safer, please.)

In the end, though, it turned out to a pretty positive experience — even if it did cost me a good ride.

And all those cyclists I met?

They turned out to be pretty nice people, too.

Yesterday’s ride, in which I make a movie in my mind

FADE IN:

EXTERIOR  OLDER, VERY TRADITIONAL CATHOLIC CHURCH — LATE AFTERNOON

A man approaches, looking out of place in spandex bike clothes. He reaches for the door, then hesitates, as if expecting lightening to strike.

Nothing happens.

He opens the door and enters.

INTERIOR

The man approaches the confessional, walking awkwardly in his cycling cleats. He enters the dark, narrow booth, kneels and crosses himself.

Kindly FATHER O’MALLEY slides open the confessional window.

BIKINGINLA

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

FATHER O’MALLEY

How long has it been since your last confession?

BIKINGINLA

I’m not sure…I think it was during the Bush administration.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Well, that’s not too b…

BIKINGINLA

The other Bush.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Oh.

BIKINGINLA

But since then, I’ve been good. Really. Almost a saint. I hardly ever take the Lord’s name in vain. And like St. Francis, I try to be kind to dumb animals, especially government officials and bicycle traffic planners.

But…I kinda lost it today…

FATHER O’MALLEY

And what was it you did, my son?

BIKINGINLA

I made an obscene gesture, father…a bad one. Three times.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Ah, now that’s bad. Very bad. And is there a reason why you did it, now…something the boys down at the 57th Precinct might call “mitigating circumstances?”

BIKINGINLA

Well, see, I was riding down the hill on Montana Ave., doing about 25 on my way to the coast. Then without warning, this woman makes a right turn directly in front of me. And instead of going into the traffic lane, she just drives right down the bike lane, and jerks to a stop when she sees a parking place. So I had to jam on my brakes and swing out into traffic to avoid hitting her.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Tsk. Tsk.

BIKINGINLA

A few blocks later, a car pulls out from the curb right in front of me, and sure enough, he drives down the bike lane before stopping to make a right turn and blocks the lane, even though he could have easily moved out of the way — and shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

Then there was the woman in the minivan… 

FATHER O’MALLEY

Oh my.

BIKINGINLA

But at least she honked to let me know she was going to run the red light — after I was already in the intersection.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Well, it sound like you might’ve had some justification there. So for your penance, say three Hail Mary’s, and attend the City Council Transportation Committee meeting this Friday.

BIKINGINLA

Thank you, father.

BIKINGINLA gets up to leave, then pauses.

BIKINGINLA

Oh, and I voted for Obama, too…

FATHER O’MALLEY

Ah well, you know the bishop says I have to condemn you to eternal damnation for that one…‘cause of the baby killing and such.

BIKINGINLA

Yeah.

FATHER O’MALLEY

But…promise you’ll pray for Notre Dame to beat USC next week, and maybe we can knock a few years off that.

BIKINGINLA

Oh. Okay, thanks.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Though I’m not sure all the saints and angels in paradise could pull that miracle off…

FADE TO BLACK

 

L.A.’s Streetsblog cites a report that says cyclists need safer streets, while Damien continues his series of biking issues on the agenda for Friday’s Transportation Committee meeting. And speaking of Streetsblog, they also had a link to a great N.Y. Times article about Britain’s attempt to bail out its own auto industry. A biking blog in my old home town — with one of the best taglines on the interwebs — reports on the sentencing of a drunk driver who killed one cyclist and injured another, and offers a breathtaking photo from a group of fat tire fans who hit the trails at 4:50 am (one look at that photo, and you’ll know why I miss it). And MIT announces a pilot study of a new technology that will allow cyclists to track their rides and automatically exchange information with other riders.

Yesterday’s ride, in which I make a movie in my mind

FADE IN:

EXTERIOR  OLDER, VERY TRADITIONAL CATHOLIC CHURCH — LATE AFTERNOON

A man approaches, looking out of place in spandex bike clothes. He reaches for the door, then hesitates, as if expecting lightening to strike.

Nothing happens.

He opens the door and enters.

INTERIOR

The man approaches the confessional, walking awkwardly in his cycling cleats. He enters the dark, narrow booth, kneels and crosses himself.

Kindly FATHER O’MALLEY slides open the confessional window.

BIKINGINLA

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

FATHER O’MALLEY

How long has it been since your last confession?

BIKINGINLA

I’m not sure…I think it was during the Bush administration.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Well, that’s not too b…

BIKINGINLA

The other Bush.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Oh.

BIKINGINLA

But since then, I’ve been good. Really. Almost a saint. I hardly ever take the Lord’s name in vain. And like St. Francis, I try to be kind to dumb animals, especially government officials and bicycle traffic planners.

But…I kinda lost it today…

FATHER O’MALLEY

And what was it you did, my son?

BIKINGINLA

I made an obscene gesture, father…a bad one. Three times.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Ah, now that’s bad. Very bad. And is there a reason why you did it, now…something the boys down at the 57th Precinct might call “mitigating circumstances?”

BIKINGINLA

Well, see, I was riding down the hill on Montana Ave., doing about 25 on my way to the coast. Then without warning, this woman makes a right turn directly in front of me. And instead of going into the traffic lane, she just drives right down the bike lane, and jerks to a stop when she sees a parking place. So I had to jam on my brakes and swing out into traffic to avoid hitting her.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Tsk. Tsk.

BIKINGINLA

A few blocks later, a car pulls out from the curb right in front of me, and sure enough, he drives down the bike lane before stopping to make a right turn and blocks the lane, even though he could have easily moved out of the way — and shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

Then there was the woman in the minivan… 

FATHER O’MALLEY

Oh my.

BIKINGINLA

But at least she honked to let me know she was going to run the red light — after I was already in the intersection.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Well, it sound like you might’ve had some justification there. So for your penance, say three Hail Mary’s, and attend the City Council Transportation Committee meeting this Friday.

BIKINGINLA

Thank you, father.

BIKINGINLA gets up to leave, then pauses.

BIKINGINLA

Oh, and I voted for Obama, too…

FATHER O’MALLEY

Ah well, you know the bishop says I have to condemn you to eternal damnation for that one…‘cause of the baby killing and such.

BIKINGINLA

Yeah.

FATHER O’MALLEY

But…promise you’ll pray for Notre Dame to beat USC next week, and maybe we can knock a few years off that.

BIKINGINLA

Oh. Okay, thanks.

FATHER O’MALLEY

Though I’m not sure all the saints and angels in paradise could pull that miracle off…

FADE TO BLACK

 

L.A.’s Streetsblog cites a report that says cyclists need safer streets, while Damien continues his series of biking issues on the agenda for Friday’s Transportation Committee meeting. And speaking of Streetsblog, they also had a link to a great N.Y. Times article about Britain’s attempt to bail out its own auto industry. A biking blog in my old home town — with one of the best taglines on the interwebs — reports on the sentencing of a drunk driver who killed one cyclist and injured another, and offers a breathtaking photo from a group of fat tire fans who hit the trails at 4:50 am (one look at that photo, and you’ll know why I miss it). And MIT announces a pilot study of a new technology that will allow cyclists to track their rides and automatically exchange information with other riders.