Watch out for the sun-dried weasel

Not a sun-dried tomato, a sun-dried road kill weasel hurt my toe. It took two weeks before the soreness went away. My front tire flipped it up and it whacked my foot.

Strange facts you learn by riding your bike a lot: a flattened cat can last for more than six months on the side of the road. Maybe that’s why tennis racquet strings used to be made with cat gut. Fresh banana peels are just as slippery as they are on the Bugs Bunny cartoons.

The only glass that gives you a flat are the shards you don’t see, I’ve never gotten a flat from riding over broken glass that I saw.

You can almost tell the season by the stain on the road from roadkill, in the spring there is not much of a mark left, but as the summer passes into the fall, the animals are fatter and leave a greasy stain that lasts for much longer.

Avoid the trail of liquid from garbage trucks, not only will your bike and gear stink if you ride through it but it can be as slick as ice.

--Bike Chemist

Help- I need a Bike LoJack

It's a sickening feeling. I've had bicycles stolen from me three times in my life, and I'll never get used to it.

The first time was when I was in fourth grade. It was the first bike I'd ever owned: a red Sears model with a headlight built right into the frame. Got it for Christmas.

That spring I took it to school and put it in the rack. Nobody used locks back then. After all, who'd be low enough to rip off a kid's bike? I'm still convinced it was my slimy classmate, Richard Starke, but I could never prove it.

The second time, I had a new Trek model that was stolen right out of my garage. The thief quietly lifted the door in the middle of the night, grabbed the bike and left nothing behind but fingerprints on the handle.

The third time was just a couple years ago. I had a $350 Giant model mountain bike tied up to a cast-iron fence where I work. It was secured with a wire lock that was snipped off in broad daylight. Poof.

These days, I bring my bike into my office at work and into my apartment when I get home. I suppose the police have bigger fish to fry, these days, than tracking down the culprits who steal bicycles, but can anyone please tell me why some kind of LoJack-style tracking system has never been made for bicycles?

We can get microchips implanted under the skin of our pets these days, to track them down if they get lost, but I've never heard of such a strategy to recover a stolen bike.

If there is such a thing, could you please clue me in? Not that I plan to have my bike stolen again, but I'd love to be able to track it down electronically if it ever is.

In the meantime, if you're reading this, Richard, I know it was you and I want it back!

--Wordsmith 1953

Gently Used Bikes sought for Recycle a Bicycle

Fellow Cycluters-
With the goal of sharing the joy of cycluting [bike commuting] with others, I'm coordinating a Bike Extravaganza at Framingham State College on Sept. 10.

Some 700 students/staff members live close enough to campus to bike commute there -- many of them without changing clothes or breaking a sweat. Hardly anyone does.

Because university communities are traditionally not flush with money, when I suggest that commuters bike to campus, they either laugh at me or bemoan, "I don't have a bike."

So I have a booth -- RECYCLE A BICYCLE at the Bike Extravaganza, to get bikes in the hands of budding bike commuters who need a cheap, fast and easy way to get in the saddle and start experiencing the joy of cycluting.

My friend and devoted cycluter Doug Sheperd and I both know know there are bikes out there- curbside with the garbage, at transfer stations, in the backs of people's garages. Doug collects them and gives them to me for Recycle a bicycle. [THANKS DOUG.]

I NEED BIKES! They must be in working order -- I'm willing to lubricate the chain, tighten the brakes and pump up the tires, but that's it. If the tires are cracked, well, OK, the buyer can buy new tires. The bikes are for adults-- of all sizes, from 5 feet and up. Clear out your garage, pick up bikes from the side of the road or at the transfer station and get them to me.

DROP OFF POINTS: My office is in Framingham--Route 9/California Ave. [Technology Park] near exit 12 of the MassPike. I live in Ayer. My co-organizer lives in Waltham. I will be in Woburn on Aug. 27 and Sept. 3 at Cummings Park at 7 pm. Email me at susan@metrowest.org or call 508-879-5600 x105.

THANKS IN ADVANCE for your donations.

Tunes for the cycluter

I'm old enough to remember when the list of options on cars included AM radios, cup-holders and vanity mirrors. Options! If you wanted them added on, it was going to cost extra. (Yes, I'm that old.)

As car manufacturers raised the bar on pampering motorists, all those things and many more became standard. If you think DVD players won't become standard in cars within a decade or two, think again.

Anyway, once I committed myself to cycluting (bicycle commuting) 16 years ago, I decided to search for some options of my own to make my commute as cushy as motorists'. Primary among them was a bicycle radio.

The only model I could find in 1992 was a battery powered "juvenile bicycle radio" from Radio Shack. It was AM/FM, weighed about five pounds with four C batteries inside, and included a push-button horn that wouldn't make a chipmunk flinch. The plastic bracket cracked about a month after I mounted it on my handlebars and I had to use an inner tube to tie it back in place.

Fortunately, Sony and other savvy electronics companies started to realize there was a growing market for bike radios among us grownups. I currently have a digital Sony S2 (about $60) firmly mounted on my handlebars. Not only can I listen to AM/FM radio, it includes a clock, an odometer and a speedometer.

If you have yet to discover the joy of bicycle radios, start checking some out online. Pretty soon you'll discover the joy of pumping your legs to the beat of Benny Goodman and Cole Porter! (Just kidding. I'm not that old.)

--Wordsmith 1953

Bikes are really driven, not riden

I was never wild about George Carlin, although I have to admit he once uttered one of the very few lines I can remember any comedian having delivered: "Why is it that we drive on a parkway and park on a driveway?”

As a former journalist, I'm easily fascinated by quirks of the English language such as that, and have long wondered about another one. Let me be the first to admit this seems petty, but why do we always use the terms "drive a car" and "ride a bike?" Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Or at least give bicyclists credit for "driving a bike." After all, a passenger is a rider, right? Doesn't riding connote passivity, as in “going along for the ride?” We ride roller coasters. We ride trains. We ride horses. (Does anyone really want to argue that humans ultimately control those huge, powerful creatures?)

I'll admit (grudgingly) that people “drive” cars, although I'm not impressed by the physical exertion necessary to do so. A mild flex of the right ankle on the accelerator pedal and a little elbow-bending or wrist-twisting and "voila!" You're driving.

Sorry, motorists, but it's those "horses" in your engine that are doing all the work. Driving a car really takes very little drive at all, now, does it?

Maybe it's time to tweak the language a little and start crediting bicyclists with driving, not just riding.

So, try this on: "Hey, Jen, I saw you driving your bike to work yesterday," or "I'm going to drive my bike to work tomorrow." Yup, that sounds more like it to me. And who knows? Maybe someday we'll correct those parkway/driveway quirks, too.

Cyclovia - a brilliant idea imported from Colombia

Am I speaking another language? YES -- Ciclovia is imported from Spanish for day of fun on bikes in Bogota, Colombia.

Ciclovia happens every Sunday when miles of city streets are shut down for an outdoor exercise festival on wheels. People of all ages turn out on their bikes, roller blades and sneakers to jog and do aerobics.

This video http://www.streetfilms.org/archives/ciclovia/ features throngs of Colombians of all ages and social classes exercising, literally, in the streets, and a class of a hundred people doing aerobics in the park.

This is an example we chubby Americans could benefit by imitating.

The Colombians also have another idea worth copying.

About a decade ago, Colombian traffic "experts" were planning to build a network of raised highways to expand roadway capacity. Officials discarded the expensive, unsustainable, and ludicrous idea [maybe after they found out about the Big Pig, I mean Big Dig, here in Boston].

Instead of spending billions of dollars [sound familiar?], they created a network of bus rapid transit lanes connected to bikeways, that include bike storage facilities to move people throughout the city.

TransMilenio moves 1.3 million people a day at 17 to 25 mph, compared to 6 mph average for NYC buses. Take a look --http://www.streetfilms.org/archives/bus-rapid-transit-bogota/.

The population of Bogata is 7 million. They're close enough to the Equator to avoid rugged winter weather. They have a significant population of people unable to afford to own and operate cars. The video shows attended parking lots of bikes next to the TransMilenio stations. Buses run continuously throughout the day.

The system is so good, everyone uses it. Bikes are foundational to the system. The transit encourages bike commuting to the station because it eliminates the need for neighborhood buses to bring people to the TransMilenio, and saves money on putting local buses on the road.

America- we aren't setting the trend here. We need to go abroad to Colombia to find the model.

Bike Fright

I can’t be the only cycluter (bicycle commuter) to have been made sport of by the motoring public. Please tell me there are other riders out there who have experienced the following juvenile attempt at humor.

I’m pedaling along peaceably, with nothing but the occasional crescendo of an internal-combustion engine approaching from behind ... and waning as it passes me by. Every so often, though, just as a car pulls up by my side, the passenger screams out his window with the intent to scare the sneakers off me.

No, I’ve never had a female do it. Only young males who think it’s the funniest thing since cow-tipping.

I hate to admit this, but it works. Yup, it spooks me every time and leaves my heart racing. I’d love to say I have some tips for minimizing the fright, but I don’t.

What I do have, however, is a fond recollection of one warm spring afternoon when a couple of guys passed me in a car. The passenger stuck his head out the rolled-down window and screamed. My heart jumped, but I regained my composure by the time I approached them a little later as they sat, unsuspecting, at a red light.

Just as I pedaled up beside the car, I turned my head and screamed at the passenger, who jolted in his seat like he’d been struck by lightening. I rolled on as the light changed and they remained stuck in traffic. Sweet revenge.

OK, so I don’t recommend such retaliatory action, but I just couldn’t help myself that time. I did it for every cycluter who’s ever been screamed at by a car passenger. That has happened to you, hasn’t it?

Rule of the Road #1 - ACT LIKE A CAR

Don’t get me wrong. I’m very excited about seeing more bicyclists on the road, especially when they’re pedaling to or from work.


Recreational riding is nice, but when someone uses a bicycle to commute it shows they’ve discovered a significant way of integrating pedaling into their everyday routines.


I’ve noticed, though, that the new wave of bikers – probably spawned by gas prices -- includes people who, apparently, have no idea of the rules of the road that govern them.


Maybe I’m wrong, but my understanding is that bicyclists, as long as they’re mounted up, are supposed to abide by the same laws as motorists. When dismounted and walking their two-wheelers, bicyclists become pedestrians.


All laws aside, a great deal of biking is (or should be) a matter of protecting one’s self. In other words, I don’t need a law to tell me not to ride without any hands.


My biggest “pedal peeve,” however, is bicyclists who, presumably for the sake of convenience, ride on the wrong side of the road.


All too often I find myself an unwilling participant in a game of “chicken,” as an oncoming bicyclist and I try to read each other’s eyes to see who’s going to veer off first, and which way.


On narrow streets with cars buzzing by, that’s a game I’d rather not play. Welcome to the wonderful world of bicycle commuting, newcomers, but please follow a few simple rules, for your own good. The right side of the road is the right side of the road.


When in doubt, follow the universal rule: ACT LIKE A CAR and you'll be safer.

--Wordsmith 1953

Any suggestions to maximize derriere comfort for women?

I’m pretty sure my sweetheart wouldn’t appreciate me discussing her derriere on this blog, but ... well, it’s for her own good, and maybe for the good of many people who are struggling to find a comfort zone on the torturously triangular hunks of stiff foam we know as “bicycle seats.”

Last summer, in Suzanne’s kind-hearted effort to share my passion for pedaling, she bought a bicycle.

For our first pleasure ride, I suggested a trip around Plum Island and the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge. If you haven’t already done that, it’s one sweet ride.

Anyway, about two miles in, she was in agony. The seat had made her so miserable, I had to wrap and tie my sweatshirt around it for extra padding so she could make the rest of the trip.

And no, she wasn’t on a road bike that requires severe bending over to reach the handlebars.

And no, she’s not a princess either. Not even close.

Anyway, since then I’ve heard several similar stories about female beginning bikers – including prospective commuters -- experiencing unbearable pain in their nether regions after or during their first few rides.

I remember having felt a little uncomfortable when I first started biking, but it was never a level of pain that threatened to make me stop.

Since that first ride with Suzanne, I’ve searched online for more cushy seats for women, and found all sorts of designs, including a weird-looking split style. I eventually settled on a new, wider, gel seat for her, which was helpful but still not painless.

Does anyone have any other suggestions or recommendations? I hate thinking that bicycling is just always going to be a pain in the *ss for people like Suzanne.

Be "one" with the weather

I don’t know why it’s taken me this long, but I finally settled on a strategy for bicycle commuting on a rainy day.

It’s a “given” that I change clothes when I get to work, rain or shine. While I’d love to spend the day in shorts and a T-shirt, my job just won’t allow it.

Anyway, my new rainy-day strategy was spawned by a new way of thinking about being wet.

We’ve all heard the line about people who “don’t know enough to come in out of the rain,” right? The assumption is that if you stay out in the rain, you’re just ... well, not very bright. Most of us, it seems, have learned to think about rain like it’s going to make us melt, or poison us, or something.

For years, as a bicycle commuter, I’ve spent money on slickers, ponchos, boots, waterproof pants, etc., all with the intention of staying dry. When I’ve been unprepared, I find a large trash bag and rip holes in the bottom for my head and arms.

No longer.

Instead of fighting Mother Nature, I’ve decided to join her.

Now, when it rains, I pull on my swim trunks and a pair of Cudas, which are comfortable pull-on shoes designed to protect your feet when you walk the water.

I’ll still wear a light raincoat, I suppose, but even if I forget, what’s the big deal? It’s just water, right? Embrace the wetness, fellow bicycle commuters. That’s why God created towels!

-- Wordsmith 1953

The striking visual of auto exhaust

Last year I went to the exhibit of human bodies that had been embalmed with plastic preservatives. One display showed the lungs of someone who had never smoked in his life, but they still had black spots on them. The exhibit guide explained that the spots were from air pollution, the result of having lived in an urban area.

Fast forward to mid-July of this year, when I signed up for the “Fire Up Your Foot Power” campaign hosted by MassCommute, the professional group of Massachusetts Transportation Management Associations.

Unless there was some sort of technology glitch, I saw that every mile I biked spared the environment almost a pound of carbon dioxide. A POUND?!

Suddenly, I became very concerned about what my lungs might look like after biking through the rush-hour traffic of the North Shore. I now find myself glancing at the exhaust pipes of cars and trucks, usually as I pedal past them while they’re sitting in traffic, and wonder how much of their chronic vehicular halitosis is messing with my lungs.

Then I thought about the National Hockey League’s strategy of helping TV viewers “see” speeding pucks by attaching a blue computer-generated streak behind them. Remember that?

Anyway, I wondered what it would look like if we could somehow see the exhaust from cars and trucks as we pedal along. Probably a horrifying thought, huh? Is it possible we’re at greater risk of lung disease because we ride bikes to work?

Yes, I’ve given strong consideration to finding some kind of mask to filter the air I breath while I’m on the road. Am I being paranoid here? Has anyone else thought about wearing a face mask?

Do any even exist that can effectively filter out all the cr*p being belched into the air by all those internal combustion engines?

--Wordsmith 1953

Cycluters of the world, UNITE!

In my quest to come up with a snappier word to replace the tedious “bicycle commuter” label, I started pondering the entire culture of the ever-expanding group of people I’ve come to call “cycluters.”

OK, I’m open to suggestion, but you have to admit that “cycluters” is better than saying “bicycle commuters.”

Anyway, dictionary.com defines culture as “the behaviors and beliefs characteristic of a particular social, ethnic, or age group, such as the youth culture or the drug culture.”

Is there such a thing, yet, as a bicycle-commuter culture?

When I first started biking to work in 1992 (see: grunge fashion; Windows 3.1; nicotine patches; $1.05/gallon) I was eager to connect with other bicycle commuters. Hey, trendy-car drivers wave to each other all the time. Mini-Cooper drivers do it. VW drivers. It’s part of their culture.

I started by waving when I saw other bicycle commuters, but decided it was too hazardous to ride with one hand, even momentarily.

Then I tried the adolescent-male head nod. (Too cool.)

Then I started calling out “Roll on!” (Too uncool. Way.)

Recently, I’ve just been raising the four fingers on my left hand, while keeping my thumb hooked on the handlebar grip, for kind of a “safety wave.”

Hey, if we’re going to create a culture, shouldn’t we come up with some sort of recognizable way to signal our solidarity? Somehow, the thought of just pedaling silently past each other every day leaves me flat. I prefer thinking we’re more than just Schwinns that pass in the night.

--Wordsmith 1953