Another place not to go riding: Naperville, IL.
A 67-year-old tried to run over a kid on a BMX bike, got the bike wedged onto her car, and fled the scene. Just look at those dead eyes -- this lady would as soon kill you as look at you.
I love the air-quotes around 'intentionally', as though the editor were audibly sneering at the kid's version of the story.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Driver Shoots Bicyclist, Film At 11
A guy is out bicycling with his wife, and their three-year-old kid in a child seat. A driver argues with him about "child safety," and SHOOTS HIM IN THE HEAD. Well, that's showing him!
After three readings, I'm still puzzled by this story. If you actually care about a guy keeping his kid safe, how do you end up deciding that shooting him is the thing to do? It doesn't make sense. So I think it's basically all bullshit.
This is what I think actually happened. The bicyclist did something that pissed off the driver. The driver went berserk and shot him in a fit of road rage. Then the newspaper BENT OVER BACKWARD trying to justify it:
What did I learn? Never, ever try to go on a family bike ride in Asheville, NC.
Oh, and WEAR YOUR HELMET!
After three readings, I'm still puzzled by this story. If you actually care about a guy keeping his kid safe, how do you end up deciding that shooting him is the thing to do? It doesn't make sense. So I think it's basically all bullshit.
This is what I think actually happened. The bicyclist did something that pissed off the driver. The driver went berserk and shot him in a fit of road rage. Then the newspaper BENT OVER BACKWARD trying to justify it:
- He's a firefighter! Those guys are HEROES! 9/11!
- He was concerned about the child's safety!
- Hey, it was a busy street!
- And anyway, he didn't kill the guy -- his helmet stopped the bullet! Maybe it was just a warning shot!
What did I learn? Never, ever try to go on a family bike ride in Asheville, NC.
Oh, and WEAR YOUR HELMET!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Today's Sightings
In the Park Panhandle: a girl with ketchup-red, waist-length hair, pushing a Papasan chair down the path in a baby carriage. This thing is SIX FEET WIDE at least, and takes up most of the path.
Moving day?
Found it abandoned on the sidewalk, and decided to bring it home?
Another Cacophony Society impromptu drive-in movie?
On Kezar: a teenage Goth, complete with eyeflop jet-black hair, black t-shirt, black shorts, and black Chuck Taylors with skulls, dribbling a basketball.
Solemnly.
Friday, June 5, 2009
There Needs To Be A Word
... for a certain kind of person. I'm sure you've met one or two. Here's an example of the kind of behavior that defines who I'm talking about: they're on an escalator, it's full of people. They can see it's full of people. The escalator gets to the top (or bottom, as the case may be). They step off.
And they just stand there.
There's an entire loaded escalator behind them, about to deliver a stream of people right into their ass. Are they even aware of this? Apparently not, because when one person after another shoves by them, they seem surprised, if not actually slightly miffed.
How is this possible? They were on the escalator, they could see all the other people. Is it because they can't see behind them? If they can't actually see something, does it simply not exist, the way we imagine that dinosaurs, with their walnut-sized brains, perceived the world?
The very same people will stand in a crowd on a subway platform, waiting for a train to arrive. When it comes, and opens its doors right in front of them, they will step through those doors into the nearly empty train, and -- you guessed it -- stand there. The train in front of them is full of space. There's a crowd of people behind them trying to get on the train. And yet, they get on and think (I'm guessing), "Gosh, this is a good spot right here," and freeze. Again, they actually seem rather annoyed as people shove into and around them.
Another MUNI-based behavior (yeah, these people are all on MUNI. What were the odds?) is picking a spot on a crowded car right next to the door. The train pulls up to a stop, the doors open, and the doorway's packed with people who do not budge. People getting off the train have to squeeze between and around them as they stand there unperturbed, with their seven pink grocery bags full of crap, noodling that ringy control-panel thing on their black iPod with the tiny Sanrio bird on a tether dangling from it. You know, I mean hypothetically.
I wouldn't be at all surprised if one of these people stopped their car in the middle of the freeway, got out and spread a picnic blanket. Or walked right up to the stage at a well-attended outdoor concert, and popped up a big stripey beach umbrella.
There needs to be a word for this. "Inconsiderate" is too judgemental, "clueless" isn't specific enough. I think it's a very particular mental disorder, a mild form of retardation. Maybe what we need is a Greek or Latinate sort of medical-sounding term, meaning "blind to crowds" or something like that. Xeno-somethingorother.
I'm not angry, at least not right now. They're not bad people, just deficient. They need treatment. Failing that, I wouldn't rule out institutionalization.
I was chatting with my friend Kim this morning, who's from NYC, and she was of the opinion we should pack them up and ship them there for a week. I pointed out that most of them would probably end up getting run over, or shot. "Not a problem," she responded. "I see it as culling the herd."
And they just stand there.
There's an entire loaded escalator behind them, about to deliver a stream of people right into their ass. Are they even aware of this? Apparently not, because when one person after another shoves by them, they seem surprised, if not actually slightly miffed.
How is this possible? They were on the escalator, they could see all the other people. Is it because they can't see behind them? If they can't actually see something, does it simply not exist, the way we imagine that dinosaurs, with their walnut-sized brains, perceived the world?
The very same people will stand in a crowd on a subway platform, waiting for a train to arrive. When it comes, and opens its doors right in front of them, they will step through those doors into the nearly empty train, and -- you guessed it -- stand there. The train in front of them is full of space. There's a crowd of people behind them trying to get on the train. And yet, they get on and think (I'm guessing), "Gosh, this is a good spot right here," and freeze. Again, they actually seem rather annoyed as people shove into and around them.
Another MUNI-based behavior (yeah, these people are all on MUNI. What were the odds?) is picking a spot on a crowded car right next to the door. The train pulls up to a stop, the doors open, and the doorway's packed with people who do not budge. People getting off the train have to squeeze between and around them as they stand there unperturbed, with their seven pink grocery bags full of crap, noodling that ringy control-panel thing on their black iPod with the tiny Sanrio bird on a tether dangling from it. You know, I mean hypothetically.
I wouldn't be at all surprised if one of these people stopped their car in the middle of the freeway, got out and spread a picnic blanket. Or walked right up to the stage at a well-attended outdoor concert, and popped up a big stripey beach umbrella.
There needs to be a word for this. "Inconsiderate" is too judgemental, "clueless" isn't specific enough. I think it's a very particular mental disorder, a mild form of retardation. Maybe what we need is a Greek or Latinate sort of medical-sounding term, meaning "blind to crowds" or something like that. Xeno-somethingorother.
I'm not angry, at least not right now. They're not bad people, just deficient. They need treatment. Failing that, I wouldn't rule out institutionalization.
I was chatting with my friend Kim this morning, who's from NYC, and she was of the opinion we should pack them up and ship them there for a week. I pointed out that most of them would probably end up getting run over, or shot. "Not a problem," she responded. "I see it as culling the herd."
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
(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.
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.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
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.
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.
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