Vote for Biku

So there's a local contest to write haiku having to do with bikes (biku) and if you win you get a gift certificate to our favorite bike shop. So, all three of us have been writing haiku. Here are some selections. What's your fav?

Bicycles are cool.
Cars stink and are dangerous.
Make Portland cooler.

Whizzing spokes spin round.
Wind whispering in your ear.
Speed or plod, just ride.

Hot bikers surround.
Trailers, buckets, lights abound.
Passing on your left.

Weekend trip all planned.
The route looked good on the map.
Cars destroyed the peace.

I power these wheels.
Inertia, gravity help.
My body the source.

Flowers bloom, leaves fall.
Round and round the wheel spins.
Watch nature pass by.

Click, click. I glance down.
Safety pin stuck through the tube.
Got the flat tire blues.

bodies taut ready
bike commuters are sexy
wheels and bodies turn

Car Free Day

Our family no longer has a car. Instead of going to Carfree Day celebration, I took our car to a dealer and sold it. We're off to the bank.

Equal

I spent 12 hours working or getting to work today. The other 12 were pleasure.

I came home with one flat tire and one inflated tire.

We ate half of a pizza and half of a chocolate cream peanut butter pie for dinner tonight. We'll eat the other halves for breakfast tomorrow.

Tonight equals tomorrow's day.

Happy Equinox.

Impressions From My Commutes

I have been commuting to work since August 31st. It's been an eye-opening experience and I've learned so much about myself. I love the solitude and peace that biking brings. I agree with my father, who says that any activity approached in the right way is a form of meditation. I have certainly found that to be the case with my commuting. The ease of my commute certainly helps, as I am only in car traffic for four blocks and one bridge. The rest of my commute is a multi-use (non-car) path, where I can safely ride as a form of meditation. The down side of a meditative ride is that I arrive to work well-balanced, which sounds good. But being well-balanced in my current job makes me realize how much I need a job that fits me better.

Another aspect that I didn't anticipate is the intense sensual nature of riding. Unlike the many people (all non-bikers) who predicted that I would not bike in the rain, I have found biking in the rain in the dark early morning hours to be invigorating and comforting. My early morning commute has been rainy on at least 3 occasions, some a slight drizzle and at least one pretty wet. Both the wind and the rain offer such strong sensations and I feel alive when I hear, see, taste, touch and smell the world around me. I remember this slightly from when I used to run, but I was probably working so hard that I missed much of nature's impact on me. The beauty of biking is that I'm working, but not hard enough to miss out on what I'm moving through.

I've learned that my favorite time to ride is in the dark. I suspect I'll like my commute more as winter comes, because the 6:15am ride will be dark. My favorite, by far, is night-time riding. I went to an evening meeting after work on Monday and biked home from 9-10pm . I am always astounded by the beauty of the urban landscape - beautiful city skyline dotted with black open natural areas where only frogs and crickets can be heard.

I've seen a lot over the last few weeks. Here are little snippets from my experiences thus far:

1. First, it should be known that I have a mountain bike and that I go a bit slower compared to the racers on road bikes with slick tires. I smile or nod to every passing biker. I think I'm silly. But bikers do communicate with one another frequently. Others nod and smile as well. Many give out the routine "on your left" call when passing.



2. People wear lots of different clothes when they ride. Probably the majority of bikers wear the black lycra skin tight padded shorts. If you take the image of plumber's butt and transform it into biker's butt, you get what I saw on the bridge last week - lycra worn so thin that you could see the riders butt-cheeks quite visibly through the back of the shorts.



3. Also people use all kinds of wheels. There are all sorts of recumbents, some of which look like all the blood is rushing to the rider's head because they're so reclined and their feet are stuck out to the sky to reach the pedals. I see lots of delivery bikes downtown with platforms in front for delivering flowers or just carrying heavy loads. One unique bike I saw recently was like a recumbent, but instead of pedaling, the rider pulled a handle to turn the chain, much like a rowing machine you'd find at a gym. On the path from our house to downtown I've also seen rollerbladers who look like they're doing a version of speed skating (muscles and tight body suits and all) and I've seen roller bladers who are doing a version of skiing, complete with the poles. It's fun to watch what drives by you.



4. As I've been venturing out in all directions by bike, I've been soaking up every local bike resource or link passed along by local bikers. I've learned that there is no limit to what people can dream up with a bike. How about a buscycle in your neighborhood? This weekend at Car-Free Days, there will be a smoothie stand where you can make a smoothie that is blended by a pedal-powered blender. Most of the new blogs I'm reading are PDX bikers, although my new favorite is from Seattle (and his post about a new drive train made me really hot).

Stay tuned for our biku (bike haiku). I'll ask you to vote on your favorites. We're trying to win a competition where the prize is a $50 or $100 gift certificate to our favorite bike shop.

Exhilaration

I have a whole other huge post pending about my impressions about my first week of bike commuting. It will come soon enough, but I must write about my Midnight Mystery Ride (MMR) before I forget how amazing it was.

Friday started out pretty ordinary, the regular 5 mile ride to work, although a bit later than usual so I could check out Breakfast on the Bridge. At the end of the day I biked home, fed Mr. Man and put him to bed. I scoped the maps while he fell asleep to plot my best course to the bar where the ride began. I was trying to find the safest route to ride at night. Not only did I have anxiety about finding low-traffic, safe roads, I was quite nervous about biking at night, something I had never done until Friday. After deciding on the route and checking and double-checking my backpack to make sure I had all the gear I needed plus adequate food and party beverage supplies, I took off shortly after 9pm.

The night-time riding was beautiful. The moon was full, although a patch of clouds was moving in. City streetlights are prevalent enough that there's no feeling of being in the dark. I appreciated the freedom of riding over surfaces I could not see. Unlike daytime riding when I'm generally alert to road hazards and glass, the dark freed me from that constraint. I made the 6.25 mile ride to the bar in far less time than I thought I would, and arrived 40 minutes earlier than the meeting time. Since the neighborhood on the surrounding blocks was overwhelming and slightly creepy to me, I elected the scarier option of going into the bar by myself. Fortunately this bar had an outdoor patio where I retreated with my beer in solitude. Not having been in a bar for about 9 months, I forgot how awful they are to be in with the haze of smoke. I continued to peek out into the main area to see if other bikers were appearing, but I didn't see anyone. At about 10:40 I called my wife to express my doubt and announced that in the next 15 minutes I would decide to come home if I didn't find the group. Shortly after that call, I went out to the bar and found 4 people, some of whom had bike helmets on the table. I tentatively approached and asked if they were here for the MMR and indeed they were. Whew. With the main social scariness over, I proceeded to chat with other adults I had never met. (Go me for stepping outside my comfort zone!)

I nursed a beer and chatted with folks for the next hour, as more bikers began to come into the bar. I was frankly surprised by the number and when I inquired with the ride leader how many people normally attended, she said usually about 30-50. About 5 minutes to midnight, a call was made that the ride would soon begin. A small trickle of bikers (in all varieties of fitness and attire) flowed out of the bar onto the sidewalk to gear up and get their bikes. As I went outside, I was astounded by the sheer number of bikers. There were bikes piled up in stacks and there were easily another 50 people waiting outside on the sidewalk who never came inside the bar! There were so many more people than I expected! I couldn't believe it.

We all turned on our lights and got ready to ride. Our leader started off in her SUB. (Sports Utility Bicycle). We were a long line of red and white-flashing bikers. There were mini-bikes and huge, tall bikes and choppers. One of my favorites was a crazy mini-bike rider who came up behind me and yelled, "no hands, one foot" and proceed to speed past me with just one foot on his bike. My other favorite was the biker on an insanely tall bike (his seat was higher than my head) who wore shoes, boxer briefs and a cape that trailed graciously behind him. The only word to describe driving with so many people through the night is exhilirating.

Our route went through town, down to the river and across the Ross Island Bridge with a breathtaking view of the city. We wound our way through downtown. At every turn the riders up front yelled "Right!" or "Left!" as our leader made her moves. At intersections where we encountered a red light, our procession cruised right through. Riders would yell out "Clear!" or "Need a corker!" if there was oncoming traffic. A corker is a rider or two who peel off and block traffic at the intersection as the roughly hundred of us cruise through the red. Can't tell you how good that felt.

We really didn't encounter too much traffic downtown after midnight. There were two times when our group totally enveloped a car on the road in front of us. It was interesting to see the response of the drivers. What can you do, really, when 100 blinking bikers come from behind to surround you? One of the cars was driven by a young woman and her friend, probably on their way to their fun destination for the evening. The driver stopped as we surrounded her, but her friend freaked out. As I passed by I heard her friend yell, "Go left, go left!" in an effort to escape us. When I described this the next day, my family said that it was like water going around a rock in a river. It was an apt description.

We made a stop for some people to pick up food and beer. We continued to weave downtown to the riverfront and suddenly our leader took a sharp left onto a boardwalk-type path down to the riverbank. We all got log-jammed but slowly descended to the river, where a huge campfire was already burning for us. We all laid down our bikes and began to mill about. I sat on the rocks to take it all in. We were on the opposite bank of the river, in a very familiar spot and I never knew this little plot of sandy beach existed. Some people I chatted with earlier at the bar found me and I continued to enjoy conversation, snacks and a little wine until about 2am. It began to mist and then it began to rain. Around 2:30, I decided I needed to get home before I couldn't anymore.

I headed back to my bike, which was totally wet. It was not with dread that I anticipated the dark, lonely, wet ride home. I had easily done my first night-time ride and I was ready for my first rainy ride. I opted for the longer, familiar ride home. As I crossed the Hawthorne Bridge, three pedestrians on the other side whistled and cheered me on. Aside from the crowd outside the bar on Hawthorne (2:30am), the only other few vehicles I encountered were cabs. I had a peaceful, damp ride home and I was so happy.

Learning a Lesson

This morning, like yesterday, my wife and I enjoyed a few late-morning snuggles as Mr. Man occupied himself playing. A few stolen caresses at the 7:30 am hour as opposed to the 5:30 am hour are glorious. It's sort of our unspoken tradition that on weekend mornings I get up with Mr. Man and lure him into the kitchen for breakfast (which we typically do brunch style) while my wife steals a few more precious minutes of sleep.

This morning, I began making biscuits and tempeh gravy for breakfast while Mr. Man played PBS Kids at the kitchen table. Things were going smoothly and as usual, I asked Mr. Man to go gently tell his mother that breakfast was ready. She appeared a few minutes later and we were all seated at the breakfast table ready to eat.

I explained to Mr. Man that he must try a biscuit with the gravy on it, as it was the primary source of protein this morning. He proceeded to throw a temper tantrum, complete with pinching my lips in an effort to make be stop saying what he didn't want to hear. Of course the screaming came in the middle of a bite of plain biscuit, so in addition to tolerating the most obnoxious behavior we had to prevent the choking and vomiting that ordinarily occurs when you inhale food mid-scream. We quickly timed him out to his bedroom to calm down, but largely our primary purpose was to prevent us from acting on our intense need to make him shut up, be rational and behave.

In the precious quiet that followed in the wake of his retreat to the bedroom, my wife and I quickly checked in about how we felt and what we should do. Not a good way to begin a morning (especially with a nice breakfast spread out before us) and my wife's first instinct was to give him up for adoption. I could hardly disagree. While we were negotiating the consequences of his actions and how his lost privileges would totally fuck up our day, his door opened. He comes back to the table slightly less rude and says, "I'm going to teach one of you a lesson." Uh-oh, I think. Round two. He proceeds to explain (aka demand) that my wife try a new food, too. He tells her she must try an apricot while he takes his test bite of gravy biscuit. They proceed to both try their new food and the rest of the meal goes off without a hitch and Mr. Man's mood is much improved. He proceeds to eat more than two-thirds of the biscuit and gravy serving.

Despite the fact that it's easy to believe that my child is out to make my life a loud, screaming fit of a living hell and act like a demon incarnate, I know this is not the answer. In his own way today, he was looking for a way to exert his own influence. Most of the day, people outside of him give him anything from orders to suggestions. Do this. Don't do this. If you choose this, you also choose that. To him it must seem like everything that happens to him happens because someone outside of himself told him to do a certain thing. How frustrating it must be to feel bereft of internal stimulus about major life patterns. He pushes against us so much perhaps because he needs to hold the reigns himself a bit more.

As a parent it is overwhelming to know when to set healthy limits and create boundaries or when to let him sit in the driver's seat. I want him to feel he is able to control or not control his life as he chooses, which means he must have the opportunity to learn how. If I give too many orders or instructions, he might begin to think that the only answers lie outside of himself, that only others can tell him what to do. That road is not far from another path I am familiar with, that of thinking that only others can tell you that you are good.

His tender heart and mind search for understanding of his place in the world, and as one of his few guides, I have no answers for him. I, too, am learning lessons every day.