This evening I took a short ride for the first time in two weeks, just to test the water and see what’s up with the knee. It went pretty well, but I’m not quite there yet. Patience, patience.

The best bike commuting “how to” guides on the web are Ken Kifer’s and Paul Dorn’s. If you read these two guides you’ll know far more than what’s required to be a successful bike commuter:

• Ken Kifer - Bike Commuting and Transportation
• Paul Dorn’s Bike Commuting Tips

And if you’ve been thinking about trying bike commuting but there always seems to be a reason not to, Ken Kifer’s Problems and Solutions to Riding a Bike to Work may be just what you need to get jump started.

The Great Adventurer in Front of the Local Library

I have a good friend who loves to live large. He’s always planning another grand adventure, from hiking the PCT from Mexico to Canada, to soloing the Northern Tier, to motorcycling from Alaska to Tierra Del Fuego. I have great respect for his fearlessness and tenacity; I secretly wish I was a little more like that.

In reality though, I’m pretty boring. I’m pretty much a homebody and a creature of habit. I’m perfectly happy exploring the back roads and shortcuts around my neighborhood. I love to ride across town for coffee then take an unexpected detour to see a friend or pick up a book at the library. And when you throw weather, late trains, changing schedules, and crazy drivers into the mix, my daily multi-modal commute is plenty of adventure for me.

These little adventures of living car-lite keep my wanderlust well-satisfied. I’ve always fancied the idea of taking some grand adventure-of-a-lifetime when I retire, and maybe someday I’ll do that. But in the meantime I’m living the life I have (and love) and making the best of it by looking for a little adventure wherever I can find it.

Wow, it was gorgeous yesterday. We had blue skies, puffy clouds and a cool breeze blowing in all the way from the coast (it made me anxious for Fall). It was a dramatic contrast to the smoke-filled 100+ days we had a few weeks ago. It was one of those days where you ride slow and take the long way home just because it’s such a pleasure to be outside on a bike and you don’t want it to end.

Yesterday we took a ride across town to one of our favorite parks to have a picnic and relax in the cool shade of the giant old trees. Watching the young parents with their little ones playing at the park brought back a flood of memories. Our kids are teenagers now, but it seems like just a couple of years ago they were climbing on the same play structures and begging for another push on the swing. Boy, how time flies.

After enjoying our shared sandwich and lounging in the shade for a while, we finally mustered the energy to get rolling again. We decided to take the long way home, which just happened to take us by one of our favorite coffee houses. It was getting pretty hot by the time we arrived, so went inside to cool off and have an iced coffee while we did a little more people watching. The coffee shop is located in a brand new, upscale shopping center. The clientele was quite a contrast from the young couples we encountered at the park just an hour before. I couldn’t help but wonder where we fit into that grand scheme.

By the time we made it home it was mid-afternoon and we were roasting. It was quite a relief to come inside to an air-conditioned house and a refrigerator stocked full with iced tea, cold water, and fresh fruit.

The day reminded me how fortunate we are, and how far we’ve come from the days of little kids, swamp coolers, empty refrigerators, and two cars in the driveway.

There’s this guy that used to despise running errands. He did so much driving during the week that by the time the weekend rolled around he’d had enough of it. He’d use any excuse to avoid making another car trip. To him, quick trips to the grocery store were a chore. Even his Sunday morning coffee & pastry outings were only so much fun because he couldn’t handle one more car trip.

But his family went car-lite and now it’s all different. Now he and his wife politely argue over who gets to make the trip by bike:

Pretending to be thoughtful, but really just itching for a ride, he says, “Honey, are you sure you don’t want me to ride over to the grocery store for that soy ice cream?”

Pretending she’s being nice, but really needing a ride herself, she says, “No, that’s OK, I’ll pick it up when I ride over to the library.”

Thinking fast to counter her rebuff (but sensing defeat), he says, “I’d be happy to go right now. Won’t the ice cream melt while you pick up the books?”

Dealing the last blow, she says, “I’ll pick it up on the way home.”

He momentarily gives up and thinks, “Damn, foiled again.” But being a persistent sort of guy and refusing to be dissuaded from taking a bike ride, he talks her into letting him tag along anyway to “keep an eye on the bikes” (yeah right). See, when it comes to a bike ride, any excuse will do…

Zipping around the neighborhood at dusk… just for fun.

It’s been two days in a row now that I’ve wimped out on bike commuting because of the smoke from our 1000-some odd fires here in California. I’ve never seen it so bad; I have to keep telling myself it’s smoke because it looks just like fog or cloud cover. Problem is, I’m getting downright cranky from not riding. It’s funny how, once you get accustomed to riding 7 days a week, a couple of days off seems like an eternity. I just may go against my better judgement and take the bike tomorrow anyway.

I’d be curious to know if my fellow NorCal bike commuters are braving the bad air.

With over 800 fires raging here in Northern California, it’s starting to feel like the entire state is going up in flames. And with the air quality index for today approaching the “extremely unhealthy” range, I’m glad to be telecommuting. On a positive note, the smoke is making for some striking sunrises.

When I come to an intersection, in my mind’s eye, I draw a bird’s eye view of my path and the potential paths of all the vehicles in my range of vision. In other words, I visualize a mental map of potential collision points in a plan view, like a GPS display, but showing not just where to go, but also where the potential threats are coming from. All of this happens semi-subconsciously in the blink of an eye. I’ve done it for many years, and I admit this sounds a little weird, and I don’t know how it got started, but I think it helps keep me safer on the road.

I’m only guessing, but I suspect this habit of visualizing a “collision map”, if you will, may be a result of the fact that I’m a graphic designer that works (and consequently thinks) in two dimensions all day. Among other things, I create a fair amount of technical graphics and maps. The mapping in particular seems closely related to this unusual habit. (My wife is always confounded with my keen sense of direction and ability to read maps, while I’m continually confounded by her ability to remember precisely what someone said in a conversation three weeks ago… LOL. I think this demonstrates something about the left brain versus right brain paradox.) But I’ve terribly digressed, so back to the point…

I believe one of the most important things we can do to stay safe on the road is to anticipate the actions of our fellow road users. That’s why I use a rear view mirror; if I see a car drifting onto the shoulder or into the bike lane I have an extra split-second to take evasive measures (this has saved my life at least once, maybe twice). The same holds true for left and right hooks (the deadliest of all one of the more common accident types); anticipating that a car might hook you by visualizing its potential path buys a split-second that may be just enough to avoid getting hit.

I’m not suggesting anyone make a conscious effort to draw a virtual map in their mind every time they come to an intersection (that’s far too distracting unless it’s something that comes naturally), but I am suggesting it behooves all cyclists to get in the habit of anticipating where other road users are headed. Doing so is arguably the best defense against a collision.

This cool video is from Daniel Kopald over at Cargo-Bike.

Moving to a car-lite (or car-free) lifestyle can require a variety of bikes to meet all of the needs that were previously met by an automobile (not a bad thing!). Fortunately, eliminating a car can save up to $8,000-10,000 per year; the extra expense of one or two bikes pales in comparison. In our case, we’re doing fairly well with two roadsters and a folder (plus a few ‘bents for good measure), but there are times where a little more carrying capacity would be great. Right now we can easily haul up to 50-60 pounds, but we’re limited in our ability to carry large, bulky items. Our plan is to have a Surly Big Dummy built up over the summer. If it performs as as well as anticipated, it should nicely round out our fleet.

The Tortoise

I recently tracked my cycling mileage for the first time in a couple of years as part of the Sacramento Region May is Bike Month Program. Coincidentally, while closing down my Bike Journal account the other day (after not using it for a couple of years), I happened to take a look at my old mileage totals just for kicks; what I found was quite a surprise. If you asked me how my current utilitarian mileage stacks up against my old fitness/recreation mileage, I would have bet anything that I was logging more miles when I was a riding strictly for sport. Not so. To my astonishment, last month I logged nearly 50% more miles than my highest mileage month logged on Bike Journal. As it turns out, a whole bunch of short utilitarian trips can quickly add up to be more miles than a smaller number of longer recreational trips. That’s a pretty cool unintended consequence of reducing one’s car use.

The Hare

When I was riding predominately for sport and fitness, I had the freedom to choose when and where to ride. Consequently, I mostly rode during off-peak times on relatively low travelled roads or bike paths, avoiding those areas I knew to be congested and dangerous.

Now that nearly all of my riding is for transportation, I don’t always have the option to pick and choose my routes, and I often find myself riding during peak hours. This new exposure to intense, and sometimes dangerous traffic has forced a rethinking of my approach to urban/suburban cycling.

For the longest time I was an advocate of John Forester’s “vehicular cycling” principles. Vehicular cycling is described as “the practice of driving bicycles on roads in a manner that is visible, predictable, and in accordance with the principles for driving a vehicle in traffic.” That sounds good and reasonable, and in some situations I still use a vehicular approach. But there are times, while encountering difficult and complex traffic situations, that adherence to strict vehicular cycling techniques no longer works for me.

For example, on some of our 6-lane suburban “parkways”, it is nearly impossible to ride a bicycle in a manner that is “in accordance with the principles for driving a vehicle in traffic.” Cars on these roads travel 3 abreast at 50-60mph; because the speed differential between cars and bicycles is so great, and the distance from the right shoulder to the left turn lane is so far, it’s not realistic to “drive” a bicycle on these roads as a part of the normal flow of traffic.

One alternative in these dangerous conditions is to ride on the sidewalk and behave as a pedestrian at intersections, using crosswalks and pedestrian traffic signals to navigate. A majority of the sidewalks on the major parkways in our area are completely under-used by pedestrians, and are separated from the road by a grass median (see main photo at top). In every way, they closely resemble what other cities might label “separated bikeways”. For the longest time, due to the stigma associated with riding on sidewalks, I avoided these pseudo bikeways, choosing instead to ride out in the traffic lane at all costs. But over time, I’ve come to the conclusion that given the option of a 40mph speed differential with cars, or a 10mph speed differential with pedestrians, the sidewalk option can be a wise choice if the conditions warrant it. (Of course, in a dense urban environment, where sidewalks are full of pedestrians, and business store fronts face the sidewalk, cycling on sidewalks is ill-advised.) This is an example of a change in tactics I should have made sooner, but didn’t, due to my overly strict adherence to a particular school of thought.

As my cycling habits have evolved, so has my overall approach to cycling tactics. Now, whatever the difficult traffic situation, whether it be a 6-lane parkway, a narrow shoulder, a vanishing bike lane, or something else, I try to use a little more pragmatism and little less dogma. This more flexible approach has made my cycling experience safer and more enjoyable.

Coasting downhill is the cycling experience that most closely mimics flying. It’s the perfect natural consequence and just reward for the hard work of getting to the top of a hill. There’s nothing quite like finally cresting a hill and feeling the pull of gravity take you down, down, down the other side, while you silently glide and swerve, dodging potholes and weaving between the dotted yellow lines like a hawk floating on an air current.

“Serious” cycling, that being cycling for sport as in road racing, mountain bike racing, time trials and the like, took away from me this most enjoyable aspect of cycling. Serious cycling would have the cyclist pedal all the time at the same cadence; uphill, downhill, into the wind, with the wind, all the while frantically shifting between 27 (or even 30 now) gear combinations, turning the rider into a humanoid Lime drive. Serious cyclists don’t coast.

Of course, if a person is racing, there’s good reason to pedal all the time; the object, after all, is to get to the finish line first, and coasting doesn’t contribute to forward momentum. Where it all breaks down though, is when edicts from the Racing Gods trickle down and infect the thinking of average, non-racing schmucks like me. The latest How to Win the TDF manual may suggest that it’s most efficient to keep your cadence high, constant, and within a narrow range, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s an appropriate technique for a leisurely ride to the coffee shop. [Note to self: Efficiency has its time-and-place and we do well to recognize when-and-where it is-or-isn't required.]

It took a decidedly inefficient bike, and the desire to avoid soaking my street clothes, to reintroduce me to the joys of coasting. A 50-pound bike with a 5-speed transmission is not conducive to maintaining a “high and steady” cadence. As a matter of fact, a 50-pound bike with a 5-speed transmission pretty much discourages anything remotely resembling such behavior. A 50-pound bike wants to go at its own pace, not unlike a stubborn mule that knows the route and will take you to your destination at her pace, thank you very much. What you learn, when riding a mule masquerading as a bike, is that working with the bike, not against it, is the only reasonable approach. And you also learn that a mule-bike requires extra effort from the rider to get to the top of the hill, but it doubly rewards the rider by going down the other side like an anvil dropped from a third story window.

Most people don’t consider excess weight to be a desirable quality in a bike. As a matter of fact, many people spend silly amounts of money to shave even sillier amounts of weight from their already silly-light bicycles. Uber-light bikes go uphill like crazy, but they’re no good at all for encouraging a coasting state of mind. They’re the most serious of serious bikes that demand to be pedaled continuously. And while they may be “light as a feather”, without a willing engine they go downhill about as fast as a feather on an updraft. A 50-pound anvil-bike smokes an 18-pound feather-bike in a downhill coast-off.

But I digress. Of course, as a famous cyclist once said, “It’s not about the bike.” Whatever your ride, coasting is actually a state of mind, a desire to experience again the free rides and the long glides of youth, a chance to let go of the trappings of serious cycling and once again fly like an eagle.

The Slow Food movement, and other associated Slow initiatives, aim to combat “time poverty”, and other ills brought on by our increasingly hectic “fast food” culture, by promoting simpler, slower-paced, self-sustaining lifestyle alternatives. We’re not participating members of any Slow organization, but we’re all for the ideas of slowing down, keeping it simple, and taking time to smell the roses.

One way we do this is with what we call a Slow Ride. A Slow Ride is much like any other bike ride, but with its priorities on straight. On a Slow Ride, we set a purposely slower than normal pace, possibly stop to shoot some photos and/or observe the local flora and fauna, work in an errand if need be, and maybe even take the time to enjoy a picnic (gasp!). A Slow Ride is directed more by the pace and enjoyment of the associated activities and less by the concerns of Serious Cycling. Taking a Slow Ride doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll negate getting a workout, it’s just that the focus is more on the overall experience and less on performance. As a matter of fact, often times when we take a Slow Ride we’ll end up out-and-about and on the bike much longer than if we set out to cover a specific distance and “log some miles”. A Slow Ride is considered successful if we catch a glimpse of a wild animal, or the angle of the light is just right to capture a particularly beautiful photo. The success of a Slow Ride is not predicated upon besting our elapsed time over a measured route or passing a roadie in team kit.

We find these Slow Rides to be wonderfully calming and restorative; they very effectively peel away the layers of stress accumulated over the work week. So if you’re feeling a little over burdened, you might try slowing down a little and taking a Slow Ride with a good friend; you might be surprised at what a change of pace can do for you.

7 days, 5 people, 4 bags, 2 bikes, 1 trip, 0 cars. With a little careful packing we were able to haul seven day’s worth of groceries for five people (two average adults, three ravenous teenagers) in the four panniers on our two grocery-getters. By combining the grocery run with a stop to “refuel” on yellow curry at our favorite Thai restaurant, we turned what could have been a chore into quite an enjoyable outing, and we didn’t burn a single drop of gas in the process. Aren’t bikes cool?

Our “parkways” here in Suburbia are a lot like freeways, only with side streets and stop lights. Most have three lanes going in both directions with a substantial center median and generous, over-spec bike lanes. Speed limits on these mega avenues are typically 45 mph, but unless the authorities have recently set-up a speed trap to intimidate the locals, traffic usually flows closer to 55-60 mph. I appreciate the wider-than-required bike lanes on these surface street superhighways, but even still, it’s a bit unnerving to have an endless stream of cars flying by at 60 mph, 4-6 feet from your left ear.

If you’re only going straight or turning right (how often does that happen?), these roads aren’t really a problem, but they break down when you need to make a left turn in traffic. Imagine rush hour, with a long stream of cars flowing past at 55 mph, three lanes deep to your left, and you need to get over into the left turn lane. Vehicular cycling technique would have you take the first lane to your left, then the next, and so on, until you reach the left turn lane. I can guarantee that if you tried that during rush hour around here, the only place you’d be rushing to is the hospital or morgue.

An alternative that I often see practiced is what I like to call “pedestrian cycling”. Believe it or not, riding on sidewalks is legal within our city limits. I don’t advocate doing so for most cyclists, but for children and those that lack the confidence to brave the bike lanes, it’s arguably a viable option. Because car drivers don’t expect to see anything moving at vehicle speeds entering the roadway from a sidewalk, it’s critical that these pedestrian-cyclists stop at every cross street and either walk their bikes or slowly ride across within the crosswalk, behaving as pedestrians. This type of riding is frowned upon by some bicycle advocates because it (supposedly) reinforces the idea that bikes aren’t vehicles and should be relegated to the sidewalk. I don’t necessarily agree with this, and whatever makes people feel safer so they get out and ride their bikes is a plus in my mind.

To deal with our less-than-perfect, heavily-trafficked roadways, I often practice a hybrid combination of vehicular and pedestrian cycling. This pragmatic approach to city cycling is not beholden to any one school of thought, but is based on the reality of needing to safely get from one side of town to the other through a maze of dense and dangerous city traffic. It involves using vehicular cycling techniques whenever practical, but quickly switching to a pedestrian cycling mindset when road conditions become dangerous and the only alternative is to slow down — and even stop to use a crosswalk — to get through a bottle-neck such as the left turn scenario described above. When I’m riding through the city, I’m following the path of least resistance, the safest and smoothest way to get through a tough traffic area on bike and foot, while trying to avoid pushing the vehicular cycling envelope too far by blindly hoping a stampede of cars recognizes my right to the road.

Bikes for this type of hybrid walking-riding need to be easy to mount and dismount. They should facilitate a smooth transition from walking, to rolling along slowly, to accelerating through an intersection, to hopping off to hit a crosswalk trigger, etc. Probably the ultimate bike for this type of riding is a small folder or possibly a step-through city bike. Among recumbents, bikes with low bottom brackets and upright seating positions (for easy entry and exit) are best. Quick handling and minimal weight are also pluses.

I want to believe our roadway designers carefully consider bicycles in their plans, and I also want to believe automobile drivers have our best interests in mind while operating their vehicles, but unfortunately, my real-life experiences have taught me otherwise. So until our road conditions improve, I’ll ride like a vehicle when I can, but I’ll switch at a moment’s notice to whatever technique is necessary to arrive at my destination in one piece.

Let go of the fear…

OK, I know I’m going to catch sh*t for this, but I recently switched from clipless to platform pedals. I’m going to get in trouble because a couple of years ago, on a popular message board, I mouthed off big time about the dangers of riding unrestrained, and there are still a couple of people out there that love to remind me about my one-and-only public message board temper tantrum… LOL.

I have good reason to fear riding without toe clips or clipless pedals; I broke my leg and ankle in multiple places in a leg suck accident many years ago. The sight of my foot pointing exactly 180 degrees from normal when I got up from the crash is still clearly burned in my memory. I’ll admit it was a bit of a fluke, but it put me through multiple surgeries and in-and-out of casts for over a year, so I’m still a wee bit skittish around platforms, even after all this time.

Coincidentally (or not, as these things often go), our household is on a serious jag to revamp our on-bike time to include more utilitarian cycling in the form of commuting, library trips, grocery shopping, dental/doctor appointments, coffee/breakfast/lunch/dinner runs, bill paying, etc. We’re trying to make hopping on the bikes as convenient as hopping in the car (imagine how much automobile use would decline if we all changed into padded shorts, helmet, gloves, goggles, and special shoes every time we hopped in the car to make a grocery run for soy milk or toilet tissue). We added platform pedals and panniers to our main rides and revamped our bike storage situation to make for quick and easy entry and exit. The platforms accomodate whatever shoes happen to be on our feet, the panniers accomodate the stuff we need to haul to or from wherever we’re headed, and the convenient entry/exit just makes the whole process that much more pleasant.

So there you have it: I’ve officially rescinded my dogmatic stance on the benefits of restrained pedaling. Let the barbs fly! Leg suck still looms a little larger-than-life in my amygdala, but the freedom to come and go on a whim is finally putting that old fear to rest.

I’m a slow walker, a lolly-gagger. I’m content to walk along at whatever pace is comfortable and sustainable indefinitely. I don’t like fast walking. Fast walking is too much like jogging, and jogging is one of my least favorite things. I prefer strolling. Strolling is restorative and refreshing. Strolling fosters contemplation and conversation. Strolling is good for the body and the mind. Strolling doesn’t make you sweat.

Put me on a bike though, and I have a real tendency to go like hell. I’ve done it for years. When I was a kid, I putzed around on my bike all summer long, roaming all over the countryside and rarely breaking a sweat, but somewhere along the way, things went horribly askew. I think it started when I bought my first roadie bike and full team kit back around 1980. You have this racy bike, these hand-made Italian cycling shoes, this full Campy grouppo, this pro looking wool jersey, and a bevy of steely-eyed friends that are all intent on dusting you… what else are you gonna’ do? After awhile, riding hard and fast turns into the default mode. After years of doing it, you completely lose all muscle memory of how to ride a bike without a grimace on your face. The idea of riding a bike in a relaxed manner, and God forbid, maybe even doing it without breaking a sweat, doesn’t even enter your mind. It’s a terrible old habit, and as they say, old habits die hard.

But here’s the thing. I’m now riding my bikes for transportation nearly full-time, which means I’m mostly riding in street clothes and going places where I need to interact with others in those same clothes. I’m not a person that likes to offend others with, shall we say, personal aromas, so I’m having to re-learn how to ride slow and easy. You’d think this would be a simple thing — riding slow — but damn, it’s super-hard to ride slow enough to avoid stinking up your street clothes.

So what I’m trying to do is adopt the mindset of the stroll and port it over to the bike. It’s a strange and foreign concept to me, riding slower than as-fast-as-you-possibly-can, slow enough to keep the heart rate down and the perspiration at bay. As ridiculous as it sounds, it requires considerable concentration for an ex-roadie like me. Often, I let my mind wander and the next thing I know I’m falling back into the old habits, pushing hard up a rise, or jumping on it through an intersection. But when it works, when I’m able to overcome my programming from 30 years of hard riding, I kind of like this “new” old way of riding, this slow and easy, no-sweat way of getting around.