The Bike Lane Stays In The Picture!

Okay, so I don't have an actual picture since it's dark (and if I did, it would be lousy anyway), but take off your Literal Hat for a minute and stay with me.

Per today's Des Moines Register ("Lining Iowa Birdcages Since 1915"), the Ingersoll bike lanes are staying put. For those who aren't stalking me, Ingersoll and its wonderful bike lanes pass directly in front of The Cycle World Headquarters. Huzzah!

You may recall that not too long ago, I (selectively) encouraged my reader(s) to participate in a poll about the bike lanes. I can only assume that the groundswell of support that poured in from this very blog led to their preservation. So thank you, thank you all! (And note that in honor of World Standards Day, I am using the widely accepted definition of a groundswell: four click-throughs.)

Who says that expressing anonymous, possibly unfounded, and obviously self-serving opinions on the Internet can't make a difference?

Book Reports

Stupid reading, getting in the way of my writing.

Since I last posted, I've been devouring books. While I was waiting for my copy of David Herlihy's Lost Cyclist to show up, I knocked off Earth, the latest from Jon Stewart and the rest of the crew at The Daily Show (not on-topic for this blog, but snorting-milk-out-the-nose hilarious nonetheless). Then that magic smiling box from the overlords of online reading material retail showed up.

As expected, I hit David Herlihy's book fast and I hit it hard. It's an absolutely fascinating read for biker and non-biker alike. Don't get me wrong -- there are plenty of tidbits for the wheeled nerd crowd, but pretty much anyone who likes a good adventure will eat this one up. I especially enjoyed how Herlihy wove together the stories of Frank Lenz (the lost cyclist of the title) and the equally intrepid William Sachtleben who went off in search of Lenz after his disappearance. There's history here, but it's in the service of an engrossing story -- think Jon Krakauer on wheels with an old-timey moustache.

In the hopes of horking free shipping from the smiling book giant, I also tossed Bike Snob: Systematically and Mercilessly Realigning the World of Cycling into my wobbly-wheeled virtual shopping cart:

Perchance you know the Bike Snob from his anonymous/eponymous blog (also conveniently linked over there to the right). If you're put off by his snark (I'm not), don't let that scare you away from his book -- although if you are a fan of the blog, the book actually features (spoiler alert!) photos of the mythical Ironic Orange Julius Bike. There's still plenty of snark to go around, but the blog's vitriol is definitely toned down on the page. What's left is a collection of hilariously skewed insights from a writer with a sharp eye and unique voice who just happens to be absolutely nuts about riding bikes. Bike Snob has rocketed to the top of my "recommended reads for new cyclists" list, right alongside Paul Fournel's Need for the Bike and Robert Hurst's Art of Urban Cycling. Heck, I'd recommend this book just for the description of triathletes as "the turduckens of the cycling world" -- which inspired me to christen my decal-free touring bike the Tourducken for its versatility and/or inability to decide on a real purpose in life.

Oh, and if you want to read even more good stuff for free, note that I just added the ever-entertaining fivetoedsloth (from iBOB pal Scott Loveless) to my blogroll after being treated to a couple of his posts via The Facebooks (yeah, the last holdout is finally on there -- don't ask).

Okay, enough improving my mind with good writing. Time to get back to ruining your mind with my writing.

David Herlihy: One Of Us

A bike geek, that is. And I mean that in the nicest way.

Despite being ravaged by a fast-onset cold (so much for that "amazing humidity/third lung" feeling from my last post), I managed to drag myself out to Mr. Herlihy's lecture/presentation last night. For those who don't know, Herlihy is the author of Bicycle: The History, an absolutely gorgeous book on (obviously) the early history of the bicycle, one that the staff graphic designer here at The Cycle has actually used for visual inspiration. I know I promised to dump the Amazon ads, but this book deserves one:

Thanks to a bookstore screwup, this was the book piled on the table for purchase and signing -- too bad Herlihy was actually here to discuss and promote his latest work instead, The Lost Cyclist: The Epic Tale of an American Adventurer and His Mysterious Disappearance, which also seems quite link-worthy:

The Lost Cyclist is the tale of one Frank Lenz, an avid Pittsburgh rider who set out to circumnavigate the globe on his bike in 1892... and (spoiler alert!) didn't quite make it. Sadly, Lenz left during a time when cyclists were America's oddballs (some things never change, eh?) and never got to witness the explosive bike boom that swept the nation in his absence. Herlihy's presentation was a fascinating narrated slideshow of the journey illustrated by Lenz's own photographs -- several of the photos are available at that Amazon link if you'd like to see some for yourself. At every turn, the author provided new insights into the technology, society, and (no other way to say it, sorry) "bike culture" at the end of the 19th century. I actually found myself rooting for Frank Lenz during the presentation, wondering what new adventure was waiting in the next photo.

I truly, truly enjoyed hearing the author speak. He started out a little slow, with the verbal pauses that reveal someone (like me) who works better at a keyboard than a microphone. But as the presentation moved along, I could feel him getting into full-geek mode, picking up steam as his passion for the topic overcame the awkwardness of the situation. By the time a few of his own photos slipped into the slideshow (standing near some of the same sights Lenz visited on his trip), I felt safe assuming that Herlihy's own bike had taken him there and was resting just outside the frame. Fine historian? Check. Excellent storyteller? Check. Bike nut extraordinaire? You bet.

So, fear not, Mr. Herlihy. Sure, the bookstore screwed up, but I went straight home and ordered my own copy of The Lost Cyclist anyway. I kind of hope it gets here before this cold goes away, since I predict it will be hard to put down for pesky little things like work... or food... or sleeping.

The Perfect Commute

I admit, I'm still having a bit of trouble with my new 20-mile-round-trip commute. I was spoiled by that "ten minutes on the bike, no need to shower" luxury. When I have to drag myself out of bed early enough to put in 40-45 minutes of ride time and grab a shower on the other end, it feels a little like a chore.

When I peered into the darkness this morning and saw a thick blanket of fog, the dread set in. An early Monday morning with even more limited visibility than usual? Ugh. But sometimes, lowered expectations can set the stage for a truly sublime ride.

First, the temperature was Goldilocks perfect... not too warm, not too cool. And that fog? Sure, it made me all but invisible (even with flashers blasting) during the first three miles of street riding, but nobody's out that early anyway. Besides, that same fog did amazing things for my ragweed-ravaged sinuses. It was like riding with a cool humidifier on my handlebars -- I felt like I was packing a third lung. Plus, there's just something spooky-fun about slicing through the fog, like riding across Dagobah minus the swampiness and the Muppet on your back.

The trails were wet, making traction a little treacherous, but I got to see three deer (including one that I almost t-boned as he stood mid-trail, nonplussed), I greeted Grumpy Jogging Lady Who Scolded Me For Not Saying "On Your Left" Once, and I passed Tom the IowaGriz on his eastbound commute (I can only pass Tom if we're going in opposite directions). 

The trip home wasn't so great -- warmer and wicked windy. But the woods kept the worst of the gusts away, so I'm counting the whole day as a win. All in all, it was a pretty convincing argument for getting to work on a bike.