Sustainability, one kid at a time

Started raining just before I had to leave, I guess; it’s hard to tell on the third floor of the house some times, it seems so very removed from the rest of the world. I was wet by the time I got Monkey at camp pickup, and then we had to ride home in the rain. He was a pretty good sport about it, since he was already wearing his swimming suit. The worst part was the traffic on Hope Street, which seemed heavier than usual at 4:30, though I have to admit that I’m usually not on Hope Street then, since I try to avoid it as much as possible. There are times when riding with Monkey is the thing I hate most of all. I’m frightened for him, and have trouble balancing that with being a good teacher. Bike Providence has an advocacy meeting on Wednesday (of course, since that’s Monkey Dad’s birthday) and I would like to go. There’s not much for kids who like to cycle, and  I really believe that kids need to be taught safe cycling and encouraged to ride their bikes. On the other hand, drivers need to learn to give kids room and respect when they ride. Kids who ride to school become kids who ride to college, and to work.

We experimented with almost every form of transportation in Chicago, and one was cycling. Dad and I rode up to Belmont and Montrose Harbors on the weekends, and we tried multiple ways of getting to school and work. The buses could be pretty unpleasant, so we tried walking to school together, and then Dad would walk on to the subway. Sometimes we rode our bikes, he would ride downtown and I would ride to school. And I rode all over the north side and the west side, when I didn’t take the El. The bus wasn’t as pleasant as the El or Subway-too many stops. I got a root-beer brown Raleigh three speed for my birthday after I broke the coaster brake on my blue Raleigh, and I rode that until the house was broken into and the bikes were stolen. We found another 3 speed at the thrift shop, a white men’s Raleigh that Dad and I shared.

One of the reasons I wanted to move back to Providence, oddly enough, is that this small city reminded me of Chicago when I was a kid; there is a similar kind of scale here, at least in the East Side residential neighborhoods. I know that the real relationship would be to Boston, but I find that Boston is just too big, or too confusing, for me at this point. I love visiting the city but I can’t keep it in my head the way I can RI or even NYC. Philadelphia is the same way…and in terms of traffic, Providence is more like what bigger cities were like 30 years ago. And I hope that Monkey can, at some point, have a similar amount of freedom and mobility.  If he’s a cyclist now, and uses a bike to get around, my theory is that he’ll be a cyclist later. And if he rides, he won’t need a car.

Sustainability, one kid at a time. If only the drivers can respect us enough to let us get home in one piece…

Disconnected

It is as if something snapped yesterday when camp called and I found out I’d messed up. Somehow my failure to get the form in on time-which resulted in direct disappointment for Thomas-was the thing that pushed me over the edge. Not like I didn’t know what would happen so why didn’t I ask Mom for the money earlier, and then send the form in promptly? I know that I made this situation, and now I’m making myself feel worse about it. God, I hate that. It’s so stupid, and I occupy a space in my head watching it happen, watching good feelings swirl around the drain and slide down with a great slurping sound. It’s like I booby-trap myself, which makes no sense at all.

And as far as people go, I feel weirdly disconnected, as if I’ve willed myself into isolation or suspended animation. I see people, and I speak to them, but I don’t feel connected to them somehow, and I do not want to be at work anymore. Every day it’s harder to be here, and every day it is harder to work for the Big Fish.

bad bianchi paint

It’s a never-ending to-do list, and more is added every time I finish something, or before I finish. Tricky to work on when one is attention-challenged as well.

Yesterday I locked the Bianchi to the bike rack at work and lo and behold, about a quarter’s-worth of paint scraped off the top tube down to bare metal. A new frame is about the same price as a Circle A repaint, so I think that the repaint makes more sense. There’s nothing structurally wrong with the frame that’s discernible, just the bad paint. Never, never will I buy a Bianchi again! They seem to have been awful to the guys as well, saying that the damage was ‘normal wear and tear,’ until Joe got pissed and told them “she’s not the kind of customer to take an ice pick to her bike.” That must not have been a pleasant exchange. It’s not bike shop’s fault, obviously, and the San Jose that Monkey Dad test rode had flaking paint as well, which Mike didn’t like. Nope, not a one-time thing. A year ago I was thinking about a Circle A frame, dreaming up color schemes, so it’ll be fun to repaint the Bianchi, I guess. What a pain, though, to take it all apart again. At this point, it just makes sense to get all of the tools since the bottom bracket is sure to go at some point, and I’ll need a new sprocket in a year. Crazy.

Blue, with black stripes and white panels, with the motto in red, “Kitty says smile!” I’ll try it in Illustrator and see how it looks, I guess. Damn paint, what a mess. I’d had the new frame for 7 weeks to the day.

Avoiding Jacob’s Hill

We did the first Seekonk ride today on what was probably not the best day for it. I spent yesterday home in bed coughing and spitting (vasomotor rhinitis? Allergies? Cold? Asthma? Don’t know) and while I felt better this morning and wanted to ride, I wasn’t fully prepared. Normally I can commute all week and then toss in a 12 or 15 or 20 mile ride without a problem, but today I kept having to stop to cough and spit. Every hill made me cough, though the albuterol did seem to help, at least in taking the vise off my ribs. I really, really hate the coughing. My legs are a little sore now, but probably because I did manage one sprint. It feels like I have power in my legs, and the potential for more power; now I just need to ride, ride, ride, and work in intervals, sprints, and climbs. Next weekend, barring coughing, the regular ride with a hill should be manageable.

There were three very special traffic incidents today:

1. The upper-class dude in a pink polo shirt driving a large BMW sedan who turned left from the right hand lane at Gano and Angell, without signaling, right in front of us.
2. The person on Massasoit driving a metallic beige Japanese sedan (Honda, I think) with a cruiser or comfort bike shoved into the back seat and hanging out the open driver-side rear door, who came within six inches of me as they swerved down the street. Seriously, handlebars and fork and front wheel hanging out on the left, door wide open. I can only suppose that the body of the cyclist who was on the bike when they hit it was in the trunk. Very, very stupid. Rack? Trunk? Take the front wheel off?
3. The man on a riding power on Pleasant Street, who came around the telephone pole and into the street without looking, although he was facing us. Gonna mow the street? The asphalt looked fine to me. If we’d been a car or two, there is a good chance he’d be seriously injured.

We managed to react in time in all cases, but seriously folks, could you please try to drive like you don’t want to kill the cyclists? People seem to be very “cream of angry soup” when they drive these days, and gas prices could be fueling (ahem) that rage, but why act like an idiot? $4.16 at the Getty on Massasoit, $4.02 for regular at the Mobil on Charles Street, where diesel was $4.96. Ouch! Now what do I do with that old 300D? Obviously, fill up the tank for $60 or $70 and go find some cyclists to turn left in front of without signaling; that’s what luxury cars are for.

Wandered somewhat off topic, again. Tomorrow Monkey Dad has a photo shoot at 10:30, so if we ride it will be early or short, maybe both. I can hardly wait to take days off and go on really long rides. When the Monkey Boys go to StL to visit the God Squad, then I really can go on long rides, which is a kind of a goal, I guess. The knees seem to have recovered with just some minor scraping in the track behind the patella (it feels really weird to go over rough pavement and have my kneecaps shake, which makes them hurt).