Across the Great Divide

Just When I Thought We Could Be Friends...

Spot sent me this precarious bike lane photo to add to my  collection [from SonnyRadio].

Can't quite tell where this canal-defying, bridge-nicking lane runs, but the water looks too clean for it to be China, where commuting has a decidedly more proletarian patina — and where bikes increasingly contend with cars without benefit of lanes.

But I'm unlikely to get confirmation one way or another from any Chinese cyclists. One of my more conservative friends reports from Shanghai:

I often review the CNN political "ticker" during all of this hot political news. However I have had trouble getting into it while in China... I keep getting timed out.  No problems with other links within CNN or other sites.  I noticed that in the site address the political ticker had the word "blog" contained within it.  So, I thought, "I wonder if this is the Chinese government blocking access to sites containing the word 'blog' or 'political' or both."

So he tried to get to this blog...

No luck. I timed out just like with CNN. Must be a huge left wing (i.e., communist)
conspiracy to...

Hard to believe commies would turn against one of their own comrades! Must be some of my free market commenters who are keeping Across the Great Divide on this side of the firewall.

Getting There is Also Being There.

Now that I'm committed to driving the speed limit, a round trip to Door County, Wisconsin — which has great country-road biking — is just about the right length for listening to an entire book on CD.

Only one problem. The novel we found available at the library was overwritten, the main character was most unsympathetic and self-centered, and there were entirely too many romance-novel adorations of strong, muscular withers.

But since I was already doing one unfavorite thing — driving to get from point A to point B —  I challenged myself to find ways to enjoy the experience. Based on this trip and an earlier one, I've come to this realization: I'd rather listen to a bad book than ponderous one.

*****
The Metropolitan Council, which sets transit policy for the Twin Cities, has announced a fare increase to help cover increased fuel costs. To State Senator John Marty, that's exactly the wrong approach when the public should be encouraged to take buses and light rail.

He proposes dropping the fare to increase ridership and stimulate demand for new routes and greater frequency.

The Met Council is being timid when it should be visionary, says Marty.

*****
Bill Lindeke of Twin City Sidewalks is now contributing to Twin Cities Streets for People, which compiles links to stories about "people-centered mobility" and welcomes reader contributions about local placemaking, biking, walking and urban living. Let's hope he brings the site more of his visual approach to city appreciation.

Here's a link to a story in the Park Bugle that profiles two St. Anthony Park bike commuters. Advice from one:

Start slowly. Don’t assume that you can start out commuting both ways, five days a week, blizzard or shine. Don’t tell yourself when you start that you’re going to do the whole thing at full speed every single day. Try taking the bus to work (with your bike on the front rack), then riding home. Do practice commutes so you know how long it takes and whether you’ll need a change of clothes or a shower when you get there. Don’t expect a quick and easy transition. After a lifetime of getting in a car every morning, it was hard for me to make this change, so go easy on yourself and work up to your goal gradually. A slow start is better than a quick burnout. But most of all, enjoy it! There is so much to see when you’re riding your bicycle.

I've been planning to add profiles as a regular feature here  to show the diversity of riders and to demystify commuting a bit.

In fact, if you're a cycling commuter willing to submit to a Q&A about your ride, you can download this questionnaire  and send it to me. Look for the first profile in a day or so.

*****
Speaking of Twin City Sidewalks, Bill posted an empty sign awhile back and quizzed readers about its location. This one will be easy to ID for at least one blogger I know, but for others, its stainless steel blankness raises the question — who will step in to fill this void?

Too Bad for America: Plymouth is No. 1 Small City.

When Money magazine published its annual list of Best Places to Live and the No.1 Small City in the whole US of A turned up just miles away, I had to take a photo ride!

I waffle between ridiculing, deconstructing and ignoring these rankings. Bob Collins has already covered the preponderance of bland suburban settlements in this list under the category Surveys That Don't Mean Anything. He lives in Woodbury, and he asked only half seriously: What's Plymouth got that Woodbury doesn't?

The answer is available on the site: Higher income, taxes, home values, math test scores and rates of kids in public schools; lower job growth and reading test scores; worse air quality, more libraries and movie theaters, fewer bars...

Wait. Why am I doing Collins' work for him? Let him demand the recount. This is about honoring the winner.

I regularly bike through No.1 Plymouth, Minnesota, and when I saw the magazine's ludicrously sanitized Ralph Lauren version of the good life in Plymouth, I also considered lampooning all of suburbia and the entire Money methodology.

But after 11 years or so in Golden Valley, I've mellowed on the 'burbs.

True, without real cities nearby, none of the top 10, except for Ft. Collins, Colorado, would amount to much. These places are seriously deficient in public spaces and lack any architectural distinction beyond the private home. If you are seeking a foodstuff, article of clothing, houseware or entertainment experience that is only available in your town, good luck.

Speaking of cultural life, Money cited the Hilde Performance Center and the Fire & Ice Festival as amenities, to which, as a next-door neighbor, I can only say, Wha-a-a-a?

I suspect Plymouth's biggest boost comes from simply being in Minnesota, because of our state's higher than average incomes and below the median cost of living. A relatively prosperous suburb like Plymouth scores a $25k+ family purchasing power premium over the average for the Best Places.

Plymouth has been adding affordable housing, yet when I searched for property foreclosures in this third  largest Twin Cities suburb — I found:

Does that even register? The whole rating system seems flukey. Eden Prairie, MN, was ranked in the top 10 in 2006, and though it looks even better on some scores now, it's No. 40 today. 

Plymouth residents seem to like the schools and not mind sitting next to a four-acre parking lot as they enjoy their Starbuck's. There's a mix of large and small employers representing a variety of industries. You can find plentiful open space, though it's challenging to find any sign of Plymouth's origins back to 1858.

For all its similarity to Anywheresville, Plymouth has plenty of good points. But if it's No. 1, that's too bad for America.

[As always, you can run the slide show manually by clicking for the control panel. Click the Picasa logo in the right corner or double-click the screen, and you can run the slide show larger from the Picasa site.]

The Best Lemonade Appears When You Need It.

My water bottle was down to its last warm slosh when I came across these tres amigos at the top of West Medicine Lake Road.

They were just getting ready to call it a day and were out of change when I wheeled up. (Memo to self: Bring quarters if you don't want to leave a 100% tip.)

Buying two cups of lemonade (they also had orange Kool-Aid) was out of the question, because their stand had by far the most generous 50-cent serving I have found.

Thanks to the mom or dad who supplied the Copaxone cups.

The lemonade was served cold, with no ice, and was squarely between the sweet and sour spots. They were well-located between a bike path and the road, but their signs were a bit small for drivers to pick up in time — though not hard for a guy on a bike in search of the best lemonade stand in the Twin Cities.

I'd give these guys Best Value so far.

Here are the other contenders, with Best Location and Best Recipe.

Sharing the Road, Wasting the Gas.

Inspired by a car with a Support Our Troops bumper sticker that made a left turn ahead of me, I made one of my own.
But seriously, folks, I fear $4 gas may lead to reduced civility on the roads between drivers and cyclists as we become more judgmental about the Other's choices. I've witnessed more aggression from drivers this year than ever before.

Yesterday, our five-bike cohort sat patiently at a wide intersection waiting for the light. The signal interval was insanely short, and with five of us in single file, starting from a dead stop, we had not all cleared the intersection before the light turned back to red.

A driver, who was not slowed or inconvenienced in the least, yelled at us: "Heed the law!"

Virtually every ride when I am on the road parallel to a bike path now, a driver honks and/or waves me toward the path. No matter the path is posted at 10 mph and I may be traveling close to twice that speed. No matter that cyclists have a right to the road.

Cars can't use bike paths, therefore, bikes must.

Most drivers are careful and sometimes courteous to a fault. And it's true that too many cyclists on the road are unpredictable — some through inexperience and others through arrogance or inattention, just like drivers.

Here are few personal rules for reducing my unpredictability to drivers.

1. When cars are present at an intersection, I obey relevant signs or signals.
2. If intersections and approaching cross lanes are clear, I use the Idaho stop.
3. When stopping, I drop a foot to the pavement so drivers don't have to guess whether I'm going to go.
4. I signal my turns.
5. I assume no driver sees me until the driver indicates otherwise.

*****
On the same grocery run today, as I pulled up to the store, a silicone Bambi was disembarking from an Escalade. She was wearing a skimpy see-through swim wear cover-up over a tiny bikini.

About ten minutes later, as I left the store, the Escalade and driver still sat in a no-parking zone, engine running. If they were just grabbing a bag of charcoal or robbing the bank inside, maybe I could see it. But she was still in the store... not that I was watching or anything.

Like I said, I'm getting judgmental about the Bambis and Lances. Maybe he took my slow roll past his Escalade as a critique of his lifestyle. But I didn't yell and point.

Except here.

One More Reason Cars Pose a Danger to Cyclists.

With a few pre-cancerous skin lesions under my hat band, I've had to become religious about doing sunscreen before a bike ride. (Although, like most people who claim to be religious, I still skip a lot of the weekday services.)

Yesterday a group of us was going for a 30-mile spin before we spent the afternoon on the golf course, so early screening was prudent. As it was time to go, I reached for a tube of sunscreen on the shelf above a couple of our bikes and proceeded to slather a layer on.

Usually, I start with my nose, but maybe since I was doing it in the driveway, dribbled a stripe down my arm first. It didn't rub in all that well, but hair on the arms, lotion tends to cake up a little. Plus, the tube was probably one that had been in my trunk with golf clubs and gone unused for awhile, so I gave it another couple of shakes and turned to the other arm.

This time, instead of the white paste, a more viscous brown line ran down my arm. Clearly, the stuff must've separated in the hot trunk after a couple years.

I looked again at the tube.

SPF-WD40.

A Bike-partisan Evening.

Instead of engaging this evening in a symbolic show of bipartisanship — which is people who'd like to stab each other in the back pretending they won't — I decided to engage in a nonpartisan documentation of universal symbols: Bikepath markings.

Minneapolis is old school in its iconography on older trails, portraying only the bike and placing one icon  between lanes, rather than twice to indicate direction of the lane. The icon's smaller size, minimal lines and  placement save considerable paint over other designs.

Minneapolis follows the European style, if not the approach to marking lanes. This illustrative mark is not only more elegant than the ones that follow; it is scaled for decoding by a pedestrian or cyclist, not a faster-moving car.

A rider is not not essential to conveying the concept of a bike lane, yet all subsequent icons emphasize the person. This one, along St. Paul's Summit Avenue fills in oval tires. Here, a higher paint-to-pavement ratio is justified because the bike lane is a marked portion of the roadway.

This version, headed the other direction on Summit, shows how variation creeps into what is apparently the same stencil. The figure appears to be leaning forward more here, and the elliptical wheels seem to be going faster.

Now we are on the Midtown Greenway with some of the newest versions of lane iconography. Note the figures head to the left, and their bodies and wheels are bisected to accommodate the stencil.

Is the difference here simply the camera angle or are the rider and wheels separate stencils placed by the painter each time, accounting for slight variations in the geometry? Certainly, the head is less ditto-like.

Heading over the Sabo bridge, the style changes momentarily. Riders suddenly acquire rounded noggins and wear helmets. I have no idea if this has anything to do with federal funding.

The mushroom-headed stencil rider alternates with a recumbent rider laid down with a rubberized, nonskid material. So nice to see safety and differently abled cyclists receive their due, if ever so briefly.

On the west side of the bridge, we return to the ditto- headed rider, who is now facing right and riding a transected wheel that looks like a life ring. This guy accompanies me all the way to Dean Boulevard, where I pull off to the old bike trails and the traditional symbol.

On my way over to St. Paul, I was riding on the West River Road north of the newly connected I-35W bridge. A driver indicated to me that I should be on the bike path, where the speed limit is 10 mph. Already cultivating a non-partisan frame of mind, I resisted indicating to him where I thought he should be, and now I dedicate this  post to all those angry drivers out there. I mean, look at all the confusing signals we have to contend with.

There Was a Lot He Didn't See.

Barbara Tronnier, a Minnesota native and Las Vegas middle school teacher who commuted by bike, was killed last month on her way to school for the last day of classes. The driver of the minivan who rear-ended her said he did not see her riding along the right edge of the traffic lane. A month after her death, he has not been charged.

Tronnier was apparently an inspiring teacher as well as avid cyclist. This interview with her husband David conveys her family's spirit — and makes an appeal that goes beyond "safety."

There's more to getting around this valley... or this world... than where I have to get to at this point in time. You don't have to be there within 30 seconds. You don't. Make arrangements. Make a change for your life. Ride your bike ten blocks to the grocery store once a week.

Experience it.

A Halfway Hallmark Moment.

I was at One on One Bike Studio today picking up my errand bike — this image comes from the show that's in their gallery right now — and found out that the "Satanic Mechanic" who built it out of scavenged parts about seven years ago is back among the living, clean and sober.

Let's just say such an outcome was highly doubtful a few years back. I'm glad he didn't give up and go under.

I got my money's worth from this bike, but because it was funky and cheap, it got more love than care. Recently, I had worked to bring it back from my own neglect. It has a new chain and fresh coat of paint, but just enough dents and rust left on the chrome fenders so it will be admired but not coveted.

I rode home today thinking, all is not lost just because things look bad. Now this bike seems like a gift he sent on ahead with a message he didn't even know was in it.

One-Man Canoe.

I've seen this guy before on the Greenway.

But this was the first time I've gotten to draft behind a canoe.