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Although I love western Colorado, whenever people ask if I'll move there full time, I gotta remember days like this when:
The number two Twins and the division-leading White Sox play the last game of a home stand that's gone back and forth all week.
Solutions for the Twin Cities is hosting "Solutions for the other 90%" at Walker Art Center.
Varsity Bike & Transit celebrates its grand opening in Dinkytown with a "human bike chain."
The Minnesota Fringe Festival kicks off tonight.
Oh, yeah, and
A a business owner during the last election cycle, I used to get calls from Tom Delay's PAC, inviting me to a "meeting" with the House Majority Leader. I can't remember if it was to honor me as a business leader or add me to his business advisory council so I could tell him how badly I wanted to lower taxes... but the real reason was to extract a check.
The calls continued even after I told one solicitor that I considered Delay a poisonous influence in politics and the sooner he went back to the extermination business, the better for the country. I guess smilin' and dialin' was a higher priority than database management.
It wasn't the only solicitation I got from Republicans, apparently based on the assumption that business owners or people with a certain income were their peeps. But all of the outreach wound down after the election.
I no longer have a voice mailbox at my former company, so I've been call-free so far, but this Important Fax was forwarded to me from the office today.
It looks like Newt Gingrich may be the new point man to business, and gas prices may replace taxes as the favored fund-raising issue [click to read the fine print].
I'm honored to have Across the Great Divide be in the second batch of blog crate labels created by the inimitable Tild. I'm still figuring out how I want to feature her label here in an ongoing way. Meanwhile...
Since I come from Colorado peach country, I appreciate the subtle detail of the label's proportions, which reflect the more elongated lug peaches were traditionally shipped in from the Grand Valley.
Also, I dig the western movie-style lettering, complete with a gold outline to complement my current color scheme. And of course, the biker, climbing a hill I could only scale in my dreams.
She tells me the original came from Idaho — Hell's Canyon Apples. Close enough.
An arrest in Minnesota today pulled back the curtain on anarchist plans for the Republican National Convention here in September, federal authorities said.
Prompted by a hatred of conservatism and Republican leaders who have hamstrung the nation's economy, a 59-year-old man hatched detailed plans to disrupt the convention here in September, according to local law enforcement who found threatening messages in the man's backpack during a routine traffic stop for failure to yield to a luxury vehicle.
More charges await the man, who authorities say has been frustrated by a lack of public good will, no reduction in greenhouse gases and what he perceived as the conservative ruination of the United States.
He is believed to be part of larger anarchist ring, said officials who did not wish to be identified because they were not authorized to speak about convention security measures.
Among the evidence were three incriminating books found in a search of the suspect's house: Bicycles Locked to Poles, believed to be a how-to manual for massive civil disobedience; Letters to Wendy's, a cryptic, vaguely threatening set of messages purportedly written to the hamburger chain on customer satisfaction cards; and something of the suspect's own making that, officials confessed, hardly qualified as book at all — a fan-like object bound with electrical wiring that made references to the London Subway Bombings: We are All Brazilian Electricians.
— "Three Books Provide Chilling Clue to Anarchist's Intentions"
By now you may have heard about the man who brought a shotgun into a Knoxville Unitarian church and murdered two strangers. After firing three rounds, he was overpowered by several unarmed church members. The church may have been targeted because the suspect's ex-wife once attended, and because it was a visible champion of liberal causes.
There are aspects of the narrative that invite speculation: "semiautomatic weapon" (it only held three shells); "shortened barrel" (he sawed it off, apparently in anticipation of the assault); angered by "liberal philosophies and issues pertaining to gays," though his troubles seemed related to the economy and his inability to find a job.
Easiest to jump on were the reports of books by three right-wing fulminators seized from his house: The O'Reilly Factor, by loudmouth Bill O'Reilly; Liberalism is a Mental Disorder, by radio attack dog Michael Savage; and Let Freedom Ring, by patriotic choir boy Sean Hannity.
No doubt the poison spewed by these entertainers helped warp an already troubled mind looking for confirmation that he wasn't responsible for his own troubles. And no doubt the authors are figuring out how to back away from his crime while maintaining the franchise.
Then I thought about the books in my house, and how they might be used to establish my guilt.
What would three books say about you?
A few other bike commuter profiles are nearing completion. Meanwhile, I'm serving up this one to further elaborate on the concept.
Name: Charlie Quimby
Commuter since: 2000-ish
Workplace: University and Raymond (St. Paul)
Bike shop: One on One Bicycle Studio and Hiawatha Cyclery
How many bikes? One for every occasion and surface.
The commuter bike: A Salsa Casseroll 8-speed built by Hiawatha Cyclery. Winter bike is a single-speed Frankenbike assembled from parts from the One on One basement that I also use for grocery and beer runs.
Equipage: Depends on the day. I used to rely on a shoulder bag, but these days prefer a versatile rear rack that lets me carry a shaving kit, 0ld leather brief case or panniers as the cargo gets larger. I keep several generous wraps of velcro on the handle bars in case I need to return with more than when I started.
Essentials: Fenders, spare tube and a variety of lights take away most excuses for not riding. My camera reminds me to keep my eyes open. The shaving kit makes a good, waterproof container for tools, bungees, a pen and pad, emergency cash, keys, seat cover and a microfiber camp towel. A lock and helmet, of course.
Luxuries: Garage door opener. Handle bar coffee cup mount for early departures.
Clothes: I let weather, the occasion and common sense dictate. I'll bring a change with me if necessary. Before, I had a locker and shower at work and would bring in clothes once a week or so when I drove, something I've done since the late '70s when I started running to work. People let this be a barrier to getting started. If you want to do it, you can work out the details.
Typical route: Eight miles through North Minneapolis, down the Mississippi and skirting the U of M campus to the transit/ bikeway corridor into St. Paul. Over about 45 minutes, it incorporates every mode of city riding. There are lots of variations and longer routes, and I'm more likely to take one on the return. See TCBike map.
What got you started? A number of influences came together. My office had a shower for running. I rode intermittently for years, but when One on One opened its shop across the alley from my office, it really got me thinking more about this as transportation and a political act, and not just a convenient form of exercise. I'd also had several early employees who were hardcore, year-round commuters. I kept the Frankenbike in the office so I could get to downtown client meetings more efficiently than driving or walking, and it also made a good winter bike. The impulse just kept growing.
Jim Thill at Hiawatha might pretend to ridicule commuter evangelism, but his combo of life, bikes, blogging, cameras, politics, business and iconoclasm has inspired me more than once.
How often? Since I don't have a regular day job or office any more, I'm not strictly a "commuter," but I use a bike as my primary mode of transportation year-round. Basically, I only drive when a car is the only way I can reasonably accomplish what I need to do, which is not very often.
What makes it work for you? I stopped thinking of this as something special and made it a normal part of my life and my routines — the way driving is for most Americans.
The Best: Going to the grocery store. More frequent, focused trips, fresher food, nicer relations with the people there, maybe by example getting someone to think about their own trips differently — once they realize I'm not retarded.
The Worst: Heading home in a sudden rush hour winter storm that locked up downtown. The streets were nearly impassable, it was dark, and drivers were frustrated and not in very good control themselves. I continually had to pedal, dismount, stumble, try to get going again. The return took at least triple the normal time. Later, I talked to someone who was trapped in his car for so long, he had to get out and find a restroom before he even escaped downtown. My ride was at least an adventure.
The Weirdest: Along the road during a grocery run in Colorado, finding the body-painted headless Barbie who now hangs like a figurehead from my western errand bike's basket.
The Funniest: Doing a face plant on the way to work after failing to secure my front wheel following revelry the night before. Funny an hour later, at least.
Favorite stop/sight: The alley behind my former office. It's shaped like a great outdoor room with 100-year-old buildings for walls and a bike shop attached. It reminds me to watch for the city's other grubby hidden treasures.
Advice? Do what works for you. Don't worry about doing this the "right" way. Things will change with the seasons, your workload, where you live and work and your stage of life. Find a local bike shop that treats you the way you want to be treated and if you don't already have a bike that makes riding fun, find one of those, too.
*****
I don't usually spend time on the inside baseball of party politics. My interest is where politics intersects with real life, which is on a different planet.
But I'll make an exception here, since First Congressional District Rep. Tim Walz is my kind of politician, distorting numbers to make a misleading point is my kind of issue, and most important, I can finally use my photo of wild horse apples.
That's what Ollie Ox at Bluestem Prairie calls the misinformation being regularly extruded by the Brian Davis campaign, as it tries to gain some fund raising traction — by claiming Davis is last quarter's top money raiser.
Put simply: Walz outraised Davis in money received from individuals and from PACs. Davis got more money from his party (biggest check from the NRCC in Washington DC) and from himself.
Based on the numbers, Ollie disputes the Davis claim of grassroots support. Davis hopes by spreading manure widely enough, some grass will eventually sprout.
When dealing with biking, this blog tends to focus on the bliss, not the bumps and grinds. Honestly, that's the way I experience it. But it may not ring true to people worried about sweat and car doors and pot holes and flats, who'd ride if only things were a bit more perfect, or the trip shorter, or all the cars on another planet.
So, yes, there are dangerous stretches, inattentive drivers, chains that fall off, an occasional loose dog. But mostly, it's the pavement.
Here's a "bike lane" I often pick up on one route home. The photo may explain why some cyclists are out there in the traffic instead of hugging the right edge of the street.
Heading the other way, in my only direct route toward the city, I pass this spot nearly every day.
I know the hole in the pavement is there, but imagine the unwary rider, post rain, pressed toward the puddle by four whizzing lanes of traffic.
Better to get a little wet than clipped by a mirror, right?
Most of the time, though, you can look around. You can experience your city fresh, smell the bagels, feel the subtle changes in temperature when you ride through a depression, pick up a lost toy or an odd bit of metal, hear cardinals in the bushes or watch a mother cat weave through a flower garden with her kitten held by the scruff. Stop to try that little cafe or follow a different street that also goes where you're going.
I remember this from my running days: Proselytizers are tiresome. Fanatics should be herded together where they can entertain each other and leave the rest of us alone.
I don't really care what you do.
As long as it works for you, drive, walk, take the bus, try out a jet pack, hail a cab. Haul the kids in the minivan. Stay home and telecommute. Hitch hike. Swing from tree to tree. Save gas and reduce emissions if you can, but don't renounce the car out of sainthood or just to save the polar bears.
There's a world outside the capsule, though. Your world.
This lemonade stand was just opening for its second day of business on the bike path along Webber Parkway. Yesterday, the three cousins took in $18.50.
Pink lemonade was the only offering, but it was cold and not too sweet. Just across the road, an aunt had a garage sale going, so I'd rate the stand's security pretty high.
Of the establishments I've featured, only the one on the Midtown Greenway has shown any staying power. That's okay, of course. Most small businesses don't last, and lemonade stands are merely miniature accelerated versions of entrepreneurial reality, often propped up with a dose of parental subsidy.
Lemonade stands, though, provide important hints about quality of life. They signal the presence of kids in the neighborhood, and of parents who encourage their enterprise. They indicate a certain level of safety, and of the foot and bike traffic that contributes to it. And most of all, they encourage us to slow down, converse with strangers and enjoy simple things.
They remind us that spending does not have to be just a cool transaction with a commercial entity; it can be an affirmation of human relationships.
Larger small businesses do the same.
I am not against corporations or shareholder value, but I prefer my exchanges to be more direct and to stay closer to home.
On a return swing, we ran south of the parkway and stopped for lunch at Steamworks Coffee on 44th and Penn Avenue North. New owners Jeff and Christina Jenkins just took over this month from founders Aaron and Barbara Hardley who restored the building on that corner and helped revitalize the little business district.
In the other half of the building is Sauced, run by John Conklin, formerly of The Sample Room and Mayslack's. Had we realized they were open — and had Surly Bender on tap — we might've stopped in there and missed the nice sandwich and iced latte we enjoyed next door.
We'll be back.
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