Drive Faster

I saw something today that I do not believe I will ever see again.  Riding up 1st Avenue between 77th and 79th Streets, there were, in a row, a USPS truck, a UPS truck, and a regular delivery box truck all double parked, as per usual… but not blocking the bike lane.  As if this were not borderline impossible enough, the driver of the delivery truck did something that I had come to regard as beyond their capability: he saw me in his mirror and waited for me to pass so that he didn’t door me.

I almost crashed from shock.

Past that, I was once again only almost killed once by an idiot, although I’m not sure it was an actual idiocy or ignorance.  It was, after all, a little kid who apparently hadn’t learned to look both ways before he tried to skateboard across the street.  So really, I probably wasn’t almost killed as much as I probably almost killed someone.  On the plus side, I caused him to get yelled at by his mom, and I’m enough of a bastard for that to be funny to me.

So, guess what: this really does have a point.  The reason for my ride was to test how good the bag I made was for actual riding.

I made a bag.  I made something.  Unbelievable.

The bag itself is a bit more ambitious than I probably should have done since I hadn’t sewn anything since I made an apron out of purple fabric with a shark print on it in whatever it was they called Home Ec in sixth grade.  (I can make a run-on sentence make sense!)  Just so we’re clear, my construction now is right in line with my construction then.  Which is not a good thing.

Nevertheless, the bag worked well.  It’s not perfect; the strap is too long even at its shortest setting, which has the practical effect of making the bag sit at exactly the wrong spot on my back, both too high and too low.  Consequently, my back was hurting when I got home.  Even still, the fact that I made something is crazy.

The most important thing I learned?  Sewing is awesome.

What’s to Break

I took today to do a lot of chores (well, errands, more accurately) that had been piling up.  Going to the post office, making a few phone calls, that sort of thing.

No one cares about any of that.

Chief among those errands, however, was getting my totally sweet bicycle back in working order.

Back in October, I put new brakes on my bike.  They were, and continue to be, totally awesome.  Unfortunately, the drop on the rear brake was less than would have been preferred, and the rear brake pads rubbed the tire and sooner rather than later, you know, ruined it.  Like you would expect.

Given the particular frequency with which I had misadventures with this bike, I was very frustrated.  So this is the part where we cue up six months of me not only not riding it, but really ceasing to view it as anything other than an object in my living room.  Sure, I ordered new tires, but I didn’t put them on, and I didn’t get new tubes or get the brake situation resolved.  The weather was cold, I couldn’t ride my bike to work for lack of a place to store it, and anyway, I was getting a free MetroCard.  So the bike sat.

One of the advantages of my losing my job is that I’ve eventually come back around to my desire to make things.  The messenger bag that I designed and am in the process of building is one of the results of that inspiration.  You could say that getting my bike working again is the direct result of the bag situation; after all, what’s the point of designing a bag meant for riding if you’re never going to ride with it?  Add the fact that I don’t have access to a free MetroCard any more and it begins to make a little more sense, I think.

So: last week, I went and picked up new tubes for my tires.  I don’t own the tool necessary to remove bike tires, nor have I ever done it before.  You would think that I would have taken those two things as clues.  You would be wrong.

I went to a friend’s house and borrowed his tools to replace my tires and tubes.  My inexperience screwed me, however: I hooked one of the new tubes with the tool and ended up with a bike that was totally unrideable.  More so, even.

So that was the biggest thing I did today: get my bike in working condition.  I took it to a bike shop and had a professional replace the tube I destroyed.  I then went and got the new brake pads that my friend/enabler so graciously custom-filed for me.  I helped him install them and rode home.

Now, not having ridden in six months, one couldn’t have blamed me, I don’t think, for begging off riding the entire 10 miles and change, but to my eternal credit, I didn’t. On top of that, my brakes performed beautifully and I was only nearly killed by an idiot once.

I am excited to have my bicycle back.  I just hope it’s not bitter about being essentially ignored for six months.

Wait… now that I think about it, no one cared about all that either.

Waiting For Some Action

I swear it’s like they’re trying to kill me. On purpose.

Riding my bike home tonight, I was riding in the bike lane on 21st near Broadway. A guy in a minivan opened his door (like you do). As I usually do when people do that (look in your mirrors before you open the door! Please!), I dodged, but it was just too close. I got half way around, but he finished opening his door into my leg. As one can guess, I ended up skidding sideways into a car sitting in (mercifully unmoving) traffic and ruining my back wheel. Which, just so we’re keeping score, means that I’ve completely replaced my wheel set on this bike.

In an unusual stroke of luck, there was a car with a pair of policemen in it sitting two cars behind the one that I was pushed into, so they saw the whole thing. In an even more unusual stroke of luck, those policemen were sympathetic to me. The upshot of this was that the cops were talking to the guy that doored me before I even picked myself up off the pavement.

I had plenty of time while they were going through the motions of reporting an accident to check over my bike, and as far as I can tell, the only thing that got damaged was my back wheel. Since the whole show is going on their insurance, I will probably be able to get the wheel set replaced. Which is good.

Still, let’s see if we can stop this, okay?

Get Get Get

The never-ending battle between my cycling self and traffic continues.

On East 86th St. in Manhattan, there are several to many new buildings going up. When new buildings are built in New York, the sidewalk is blocked off and pedestrians are rerouted into the street. They are protected from traffic by plastic barriers.

That’s all well and good, until someone, say, me (just for example, mind), is riding his new bike (which is similar to this) for the third time along said street and is cut off by a driver and forced into a collision with said barriers.

(Just so we’re clear, the barriers are very much able to withstand the impact of a bike. Unfortunately, my front wheel was less able to do so.)

(Just for example, mind.)

On the plus side, I was mistaken for a messenger by a messenger. That’s pretty excellent, if you like messengers, which I do. Even if they are total nutters.

Hurt

In the past two days, I’ve:

Been clipped by a bus on my bike. Nearly had a two hundred fifty pound video projector land on my head. Been a passenger in a minor car accident. Been clipped by a cab crossing two lanes of traffic to make an illegal turn. Had a car door opened into me, flipping me over my handlebars and ruining my front wheel.

Who exactly wants me dead? That someone can die.