(Lug Your) Bike To Work Month

Yes, it's May, and the streets are full of bikes. Including mine. It's good to be back.

Today I took my daughter to school on one of these. The thing weighs more than 50 pounds, more than my bike does. I wonder whether anyone makes one of these that isn't a bear to haul around, but soon it'll be a moot point anyway -- she'll be riding her own bike.



I look forward to that day. Mostly from the knee region.

State-Based Learning

I picked up a staple in the rear tire on Market Street this morning, but didn't notice it until the rear wheel started wobbling all over the place. So I got to pull over and change a flat.

When I lived (and bike-commuted) in Berkeley, I had to do this almost every week. The road shoulders there were full of all kinds of crap. This sucked, but it also meant I got really good at it, and always had the right equipment handy.

Well, in ten years of biking in SF, I've probably had two flats, and none recently. I hadn't even looked at the contents of the tool bag in over a year. I had no idea what was in there. I opened it up, crossing my fingers mentally.

I had a hand-pump, so all I really needed was a patch kit, and some tire irons. Chances are, since I hadn't opened the bag in a while, that the rubber cement in the patch kit was all dried out. Worst case, I'd end up taking a bus the rest of the way. Not a disaster, no more than a mild bummer really. However, since it was my first day back riding in months, I wasn't too pleased at the prospect. If I wanted to ride the bus, I would've gotten on a bus, dammit.

Not to worry. Apparently, I was loaded for bear, flat-wise: two new tubes, a quick-flate and three CO2 tanks. Sometimes it's nice having an obsessive-compulsive do all your bike maintenance. Thanks, me-from-the-past.

And did I even remember how to change a flat? Why yes, I did. Five minutes, back on the road. With filthy black fingertips. Smiling.

See A Buck, Pick It Up

Today I found a dollar bill sitting on the sidewalk in front of Progress Hardware. I looked around; but whoever dropped it was already far away.

Half a block away, an older bearded guy in neon-orange camo was selling The Street Sheet. I handed it to him, saying, "I just found this on the sidewalk. I think someone wanted me to give it to you."

He smiled, bemused, and said, "OK. Thanks."

Maybe not so much with the sanctimony next time.

Would I have done that with a twenty, I wonder? I'd like to think so.

My Poor Brain

Every once in a while, when I'm reading a sign, I read the wrong words. And not just a little wrong, either. Once I read a sign which said:

COFFEE AND DONUT 35¢

as:

CHEESE AND DOUCHE 35¢

that was one hell of a double-take. But not as much as when I passed Nomad this morning and saw a lovely neon sign reading:

BABY PIERCING

Luckily, I was able to stay on the bike.

Market St. Bike Lane Rally

The rally at Market and Octavia this morning, to protest the MTA's plan to eliminate the bike lane, was quite a party! It ended with the lane being (temporarily) painted neon-green -- a quick prototype of the improvements that should be used to address the problems with illegal right-turners.

There's full coverage on the SFBC Market & Octavia page.

I ride in this lane every day. If they turn this into a merge-with-auto-traffic lane, it's obvious that the illegal right turn problems will simply get worse. I'll end up crossing Octavia somewhere else. Which is probably exactly what the MTA wants.

Carson Kressley He Ain't

Market Street, 8 a.m.. An extremely thin young man, wearing a peacoat and leather jeans, with stylishly mussed-and-gelled tinted hair, is having an argument via cell phone.

"I want to make you into a work of art, but you just want to look like everyone else!"

I wonder briefly whether he's hairdresser, an interior decorator, a wedding planner, or a coutourier, before deciding it doesn't matter.

Won't Her Kids be Surprised

Seen near La Boulange on Cole.