Very Portland

Today was pickup day for one of our CSAs. It was also a day I rode my bike to work. I didn't realize until late morning that I would have to cart home our 12 items from the CSA in my panniers. On top of that, I had a few items to pick up at the grocery store on my lunch hour. And, of course, we absolutely needed some fresh berries from the farmer's market for lunches tomorrow. I totally geeked out fitting all of this in my new panniers (recently purchased after this month's bike theft incident.)

It doesn't look like much here. I found myself grateful that I had some bungie cords with me to affix my purse (made from recycled bike inner tubes) to my rear rack.

With some creative packing, I managed to get all of this home to the safety of my kitchen:

The aerial shot misses the fact that there are three containers stacked high of hummus, salsa and Italian vegetable soup.

Before I left the office a coworker looked into my cubicle and inquired if my produce was in a bike bag. When I replied yes, he told me I would look "very Portland" on my way home.

Indeed.

House Lust

September is here and we're settled into our new digs. Mr. Man is back in school. I'm biking to work every day now, in part because I live in a ridiculously amazing bike commuter neighborhood and in part because September is the Bike Commute Challenge in my fair city. My route to work takes me on a bike boulevard past glorious homes. In safe situations, I'm tend to gawk--staring at the neighborhood, its quirks, and in particular, its homes.

Recently I've begun to have a serious case of house lust. Clearly I can afford none of the homes over which I drool. Yet, I'm taken with many--the porches, the architecture, the colors, the gardens. I have a running list of houses with amazing porches and decks and I fantasize about the parties and trysts that could take place in these beautiful spaces. I know the locations of at least three houses on my bike boulevard that are receiving new coats of paint and I watch each day's progress diligently. I look fondly upon the houses which have planted well, with little grass but much lush greenery that provides a skirt of privacy to the domicile.

I dream of all the houses fondly and think about the lives of the people within. People who are not us. My wife and I just graduated from living like college students with our new dresser and bed. We cannot afford such a mortgage. I would not be able to keep such a beautiful palace clean. We are the opposite of anything resembling handy. I cannot imagine the reality of living in a house again, but I definitely yearn for those I see.

Diesel Free

I'm recording this just to remind me that I can do this. I traveled 14 miles today in this city and I pedaled the whole way. No diesel fuel for me today. Perhaps more surprising was my ability to travel with all these things:

• work clothes, towel and shoes
• cloth napkins and silverware my lunch potluck (enough for the whole group)
• a plate for me for the potluck
• water bottle
• a change of clothes for after work to ride to Poekoelan
• my black gi for Poekoelan class
• my Poekoelan notebook
• my daily small pouch/purse

No, I didn't take food to the potluck. I was "lazy" and picked it up downtown. Laziness, however, is relative. In addition to my riding I attended 2 Poekoelan classes for 3 hours.

I am tired.

Happy Velotines Day

Here's one of the many reasons why I live in Portland.

I missed the morning commute, but I'm heading in to the office velo-style after spending the first shift at home with a sick Mr. Man. So far this morning in his fevered state he:

• lifted his legs up in the air while we were snuggling and said, "You know why this is all puffy?" Because it's your scrotum, I said. "Yes," he said. "It's a big blue whale." (He was wearing blue boxers.)


• he told me I couldn't go to work and I should just call in a sick day. I said I had work to do. He asked why other people couldn't do it. He said, "make your boss do it. He doesn't work as much as you. He just gets money."


• won a game of Contest (a card game) that lasted an hour.

My wife is up for an interesting second shift.

Push

Yesterday I woke up numb. I felt swallowed whole and acutely aware of the immensity of my surroundings. From my distant and small place, little touched me. None of the debris from my day made an impact or changed my perceptions.

At 9pm I headed out for a rainy evening bike ride. I loaded the iPod with ample Melissa Ferrick. Who else, really, to reach me with intensity. The rain splattered my face and my eyes watered from the effort of blinking back the raindrops. The ride downtown helped me unwind. As I circled back across the river I started to find my release. On the Springwater Corridor I rode faster and harder. I sensed the kinetic energy trapped inside that needed to be pushed out. Unsure of its source or purpose, I simply released it. The ride was a blur, the experience of steadfastly moving forward like a trance. My eyes were steadily fixed five feet ahead of me and my legs pumped, pushing the energy out.

I wonder why numbness settled in, yet what I know is important is that I pushed it back out. I still sense something inside fueling my impatience, ennui and discontent. More rides and rock concerts are likely in the coming days.

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.

Fix the Car, Ride the Bike

Our property owners paved the driveway this week and so I needed to move the car. Two nights ago, I got in the car for the first time in about a month. I was surprised it turned over because I knew it needed a new battery. The car turned on, but all the interior lights were extremely dim and the battery indicator was on. I got it down the street to the Goodwill parking lot on our corner and left it there with a note. When I turned off the car the key wouldn't come out of the ignition. Both my wife and I tried to get it out, but to no avail. So we left it there, locked with the key in the ignition. The next day it wouldn't start because it desperately needed a new battery. So I stayed home from work this morning to call AAA to have them give us a jump and see about getting the key out. The locksmith insisted that we needed a new ignition, but I was pretty sure that the key was just locked up because the battery was dead. Sure enough, when I took it to the garage around the corner to get a new battery, I turned off the car and the key slid right out.

With the car at a friendly neighborhood garage, I got on my bike and went to work for the first time by bike. It was cold, even though it was 9:50 by the time I got on the road. The headwind was pretty strong, but I still made it in 30 minutes, which is about what I expected.

My commute is about 5 miles. I leave my block, head west down the hill toward the river and hop on the bike trail. The trail runs parallel to railroad tracks and the Willamette River. I stay on the trail until I cross the Hawthorne Bridge and proceed five blocks to my office. The commute couldn't be easier.

There was a light fog still rising off of the southwest hills across the river as I rode toward downtown. As usual, the sweet smell of blackberries taunted me. I listened to tunes and enjoyed the beautiful views, thoroughly happy to be riding in the cold morning sunlight. I zoomed past the Portland Opera, the worm bin outside the science museum and the Priuses in the fleet of city vehicles. On my way across the Hawthorne I passed the man with the shopping cart and dog kennel who panhandles outside my office in the mornings.

The merge into the left lane and around the statue on Main wasn't as tricky as I thought it would be and I cruised right into the parking lot of my building, where I parked my bike in the basement bike cage and headed toward the Sweat Shop for a shower. (Yes, the fitness center in my building is called The Sweat Shop!) The logistics of packing professional clothes in my backpack and showering at work weren't as tricky as I'd thought they'd be and I was at my desk by 10:45. (I left home at 9:50).

My mom used to have a tacky framed embroidered thingee that said "This is the first day of the rest of your life." I remember looking at it everyday as a kid and being perplexed by what it meant. We're close to selling the car and from here on out more days are going to be like this for me and eventually for us, as we bike and walk more and drive almost never. As I look around me, I see that this city is home to me and that home here really means sustaining and transporting yourself. Here people move entire households by bike. Here the neighborhood association assigns me a bike buddy to help support my desire to bike more. Here I can take my son to an awareness action to remind drivers about safety around bikes. Here is where I belong - probably for the rest of my life.

(Here's a shoutout to my family back in the Midwest. This cool mom is trying to make a go of car-free living in your neck of the woods.)

What I Don't Want

I've been doing more research lately about bike activities around town in the hopes of meeting other people for fun bikeyness. I took a risk and joined a 25-mile ride on Sunday with a bike club. I didn't know a lot about the group or its members (other than I assumed they like to bike). The description of the ride on Sunday was that it was a group ride for beginners, mostly flat with a few hills.

I rode all 25-miles without quitting or walking my bike up any hills, but I was one of the two slowest riders and probably the one with the least experience. I enjoyed the ride, despite its difficulty. In my mind, this was not a beginner ride.

The greatest benefit for me was that I learned what I do not want. For example:

• I do not want to go so fast on a Sunday morning ride that the scenery and landscape are a forgettable blur. Additionally, when I come across an amazingly beautiful huge traffic circle covered in roses with an aroma that is overwhelming, I don't want to race by.



• I do not want to wear padded Lycra black bike shorts, no matter how much my ass hurts in the 15th mile.



• I don't want to drink or eat on the run or in 2-minute stops. I shudder to think about what other bodily functions some folks might do while riding or quickly stopping at the shoulder.



• I do not want to be a jock or be competitive on social rides.



• I do not want to be a bike snob, insisting that all bikers should have a certain type of bike, tires, gear, etc.

However, I do very much want to have fun and enjoy the ride. Suffice it to say that this did not occur on Sunday and I have yet to find my bicycle peeps. I trust they are out there and I just haven't found them yet. I have high hopes for the upcoming midnight mystery ride and the various other events organized by SHIFTers. Also, the neighborhood association is running a Bike Buddy program for the month of September and I might get paired up with a cool biker.

Meanwhile, my son is my favorite biking companion. We ride slowly, appreciate the sights and still arrive at our destination. We journey well together.

Beautiful Saturday on the Beach

Mr. Man and I took an adventure today while my wife worked and had personal time. We simply pulled out the bike map for North Portland. I had previously mentioned to Mr. Man that there were bike trails along the banks of the Columbia River. (For the benefit of my Michigan friends, the Columbia River is the north border of Portland and is the dividing line between Oregon and Washington.) The Willamette River, which flows into the Columbia is the river that bisects Portland between east and west.

So we determined that we would take the train to the end of the line, get off and take the bike trails along Marine Drive. It was quite beautiful. We biked about 3-4 miles through lots of industrial areas that support the nearby pier and docks for the Port of Portland. Our intended destination was Kelley Point Park. We didn't know what was there, but we knew it was where the Willamette and the Columbia intersect.

It was beautiful. Our biggest surprise was the beach! Yes, sandy beach right along the river bank. Mr. Man played for a while in the sand. We enjoyed watching the boats, tugs and freighters go by on the river. It was a beautiful sunny day, yet we remained in the shade the whole time because of the beautiful tree cover. Felt so good to have sand between our toes. The water was cold!

We biked back to the train station along a much friendlier route by taking the bike trail the whole time. Turns out part of the bike trail is actually a road that has been closed to cars!

Mr. Man and I were exhausted from the ride and the hot sun beating down on us. We convinced Ama to meet us in China Town for dinner at Vegetarian House. Yummy end to a beautiful day.

Waste

I'm at computer training out in Beaverton, a suburb. The training is in an office building in an "office park". What, exactly is an office park? Definitely not natural. During lunch I decided to walk to see how far it was to the nearby transit center so I could take one less bus when this boring class is over. Walking in "office parks" in suburbia is not friendly. I'm very happy to work in a downtown that is far more alive and to live in a community that is far friendlier to people than cars.

Speaking of cars, I watched all the drivers pass by me as I walked. I didn't see one driver smiling. They all looked either bored, disgruntled or half asleep. Many were shoving food in their face or talking on their phones. It didn't look like fun to me. I watched the drivers and I remember the stress and headaches of driving, having to negotiate other stupid drivers, a chatting child and the glaring sun. It was not for me. Now it's really not for me. I am basking in my driving-free life. As the cars roared by me and I waited for the walk sign at the endlessly long intersection, I was smiling, listening to tunes.

Office parks have cornered the market on how to get nature under their thumb. While there are many more trees in the Portland suburbs than in Michigan, there is still the feeling of being in a dead zone. I had to work to avoid the spray from the sprinklers watering the chem-lawn green grass and assorted flowers. On my way down the street between Creekside 5 and Creekside 6 (office park residents), I came across a sign, much like a historical marker. I was curious. Unbelievably, it was a tribute to the "natural area" that had been left behind in the building of Creekside 5 and 6. The sign directly acknowledged that in the building of the structure and the parking lot, much of the wildlife had been forced out. Nonetheless, they left a small swath of land behind to remain "wild." Just exactly how wild can you get shoved in between two daunting boxy buildings? There were no paths for people to enter the "natural area". No getting dirty in the woods on your lunch hour. No sitting quietly meditating in the shade. Nope, just a way to make developers feel better about leveling the earth for sprawl.

A few weeks back I got in the habit of reading the Wall Street Journal and the Oregonian at work each day. I was bored and they were the only print media in the office. As I read, I started seeing how oil and consumption are really at the heart of most global conflict. Of course I knew this, but an urgent invisible thread started growing in my head as I read the awful propaganda.

Signs from all around me make me incredibly happy that I haven't driven our car in over a month and that I'm only going to drive it once more to a dealer to sell it. I will consume that much less. In an interesting tidbit, I learned last night that an experiment at Johns Hopkins discovered that bikes are up to 97% energy efficient. Cars are 10% energy efficient.

Imagine all the wasted energy I walked by today.

Letting Loose

Suffice it to say that for many complex and varied reasons I've bottled up the part of me that really lets go, is creative and experiences joy and fun in all of its frivolity - say for about 5+ years. The transition to a cool city and several recent personal events has helped my wild woman rise to the surface and she has started to knock on the glass. In fact, I've peeled off about five layers of gunk over the course of the last ten days, which have been the most intense emotional whirlwind in a long time. The whirlwind has largely been positive and holds much promise, despite its intensity. The outcome of all of this is that I want more for myself and I want out of the prison I've built for myself.

So I've started taking steps. I have previously mentioned my love of biking in this city. I recently found a funky group of bikers and I'll be participating in their next Midnight Mystery Ride. People show up at 11:00, usually at a bar, then a leader takes the riders on a midnight bike ride to a mystery destination where people generally hang out near a fire and, well, probably drink a bit more. Some folks actually shed some clothing on the ride.

I went for an hour-long solo ride last night while my wife put Mr. Man to sleep. This was my first opportunity to ride solo, as most of my rides are with Mr. Man. It was amazingly liberating. I basically took the route I will need to take when I start bike commuting next week. The beauty of the route is astounding and unbelievable. I used the time to ride hard, clear my head and stop by the nearby creek to journal.

This Sunday I'll be taking a 25 mile ride with a local riding club. Probably not funky people, but my guess is people who just like to ride. Hopefully not too intensely athletic and with a sense of enjoyment.

I have joy in here and I want to let it out - for myself and also with others. Better look out, or next year I'll be in the naked bike ride video...

Beautiful Day

Today was the day for the second-largest cycling event in the country. We got up early, ate a big breakfast and headed to the bus stop - 2 bikers and an Ama (dutifully carrying our bike flags). [We couldn't affix the bike flags because they would impede the vision of the bus driver when we put them on the bike rack.] According to the online trip planner our #70 was to arrive at 7:58. We got there early. And waited. And waited. Finally we learned by calling the transit company for details about our stop ID, that this route was detoured. We don't have another nearby northbound route, so Mr. Man and I revert to Plan B - the much less desirable method of getting to the Bridge Pedal where you intend to bike 14 miles with a 5yo. Plan B involves riding 4 miles down the Springwater Corridor to get to the start line. I really didn't want to wear him out before the event, but we're uncertain that any busses are successfully getting across the river today. So I run back to drop off the bike flags, which now we can't carry, and to pick up jackets for the cool shady ride downtown. We get downtown (across the Hawthorne Bridge) and arrive at the starting line with time to spare. We run into my wife, who bussed down and arrived about the same time. Mr. Man stretches and takes a brief rest, we send kisses around and get in the pack to start the 6-bridge, 14-mile ride.

Mr. Man has done the Hawthorne bridge several times already, so this one is a breeze for him. The Hawthorne is a steel deck bridge and to prevent tires from acting weird on the metal grate, there was plywood placed on the length of the deck. I appreciated not having to stare down into the river the whole way across.

Next we headed south through some familiar territory and made a steep assent up to the Ross Island Bridge. The first climb was the hardest part of the trip. When we reached the point in the hill where it was time to turn onto the bridge, Mr. Man said, "When is the downhill coming?" We pulled over for a 30-second rest and Mr. Man continued on up the bridge. At some point on our ascent Mr. Man lost the plastic insert into the mouthpiece of his Platypus (drinking container for his backpack.) We didn't dare stop to find it, although I did see one biker stop to go back and retrieve his inhaler. This bridge was kind of freaky because eastbound traffic continued to whiz by (damn cars!). Mr. Man was cruising, but of the two eastbound bike lanes, the right lane was crowded by those resting or snapping photos from the bridge. I advised him to take the left lane and immediately regretted is as I saw the traffic coming toward him. He did great, though, and we coasted down the other side of the bridge and entered the twisty, hilly section to get on to the Marquam Bridge.

The Marquam Bridge is a double-decker interstate highway. The upper, eastbound deck was closed for us today, but the westbound traffic continued to thunder underneath us. The approach wasn't too hard and frankly I totally missed the "entrance" ramp feeling that you get when entering a freeway in a car. Maybe it was that we didn't need to merge. As soon as we got on the three-lane highway, ecstatic bikers started weaving across all lanes just because they could. We had a nice downhill followed by a long uphill on the highway to get up to the bridge. Mr. Man and I stopped to look out over the bridge at the point where a metal fence extended above the concrete barrier. Once we got out on the bridge it was simply a 3-foot cement wall between us and thin air. This also gave us a chance to rest on the gradual approach. Up on the Marquam Bridge was a full-size brass band under a tent - pumping out the music to keep us going. There was also a place to get your snapshot taken. The view was amazing and the height was breathtaking. The other half of the bridge is a steep, steep descent down onto the bank of the river. It was a huge downhill, by far the biggest we've been on so far. We enjoyed coasting down.

When we got off the highway, we meander through some eastside industrial area where no less than 5 ice cream vendors had set up. Once we came out of that, we turned the corner to the amazing scent of baking cookies. No idea where it was coming from, but we quickly turned away again and started across the Burnside Bridge - a nice flat ride. On the bridge was a duo playing guitar and drums - with a sign that proclaimed that they were riding their bikes (with their instruments) from Canada to Mexico.

After coming off the Burnside, we cruised down to Union Station (our Amtrak station) and before the difficult up onto the Broadway Bridge, we took a break. Mr. Man suddenly had to pee, so I took him around the corner and he peed in the grass. We sat and stretched and took off our backpacks and ate an energy bar. He was getting pretty tired, but the sugar and protein pumped him up and he was excited to go across the Broadway Bridge. It's quite a beautiful red bridge with great view of the amazing real estate in the Pearl. We coasted down to the coordinated rest stop and ate a nectarine (me) and cookie (Mr. Man). Suddenly a volunteer came along with a bullhorn and announced that we had to keep going because the Fremont Bridge would soon be closed. She was very urgent about it. For reference, the Fremont Bridge is another double-decker interstate bridge and is the highest bridge of them all. The ascent is steep and long. I looked at Mr. Man and asked him what he wanted to do. He wasn't interested in going on and neither was I. We had tacked on an unexpected 4 miles to the beginning of the 6-bridge route and we had successfully pedaled across 5 of the 6 bridges. It was success to us!

We decided to go back across the Broadway Bridge on the other side and learned that it has a beautiful bike/pedestrian bridge on the north side. We coasted down the bridge and stopped near Union Station. We made arrangements with Ama to meet at the Chinese Gardens. All three of us strolled through the amazingly-gorgeous gardens. At my suggestion we walked a few blocks to Vegetarian House, a Chinese restaurant in China Town that is touted as "a vegan's delight". No doubt. It was so good. Mr. Man loves veggie shrimp and also got some chow mein. My wife got General Tso's veggie chicken and I got kung pao chicken. It was all amazing and good - and VEGAN! We wandered back to the lightrail station, stuffed and satisfied.

What a beautiful day.

High

I knew this city was cool, but I feel like only recently have I realized how much in love with Portland I am. Despite the recurring F&A (my wife and I abbreviate fear & anxiety) about going bankrupt, my mental health baseline is better than it was in Michigan. Is it this place? Is it that we're slowing getting settled and are really only missing 3 pieces of furniture? Is it that my son and I are slowly becoming bikers in a city that worships at the foot of chainrings, calipers and forks? Whatever the cause(s) and despite the 9-5 stint with el corpo, I am happy.

Mr. Man and I have been biking 10-20 miles for the last two weekends. Next weekend we're registered for the Portland Bridge Pedal. I have no idea if we'll finish the entire 14-mile event, but we'll give it our best. We'll do the 6-bridge event, which includes two high double-decker interstate bridges. Check out the Fremont Bridge and the Marquam Bridge. We've already traversed the Hawthorne and the Steel Bridge on our local rides. We live about 6 blocks away from the trailhead to the Springwater Corridor, an old rail line that was converted to bike path. Our 4.5 mile trip to downtown is through protected wetlands where we can easily spot a dozen herons and other migratory birds. We can stop for gallons of sweet blackberries anywhere along the trail and rest by an eagle's nest. We ride along the river and can rest on picnic tables, benches or stone art. We have taken the Hawthorne bridge across the river into town and today we learned that the Steel Bridge is far friendlier because bikers and pedestrians have a special route on the lower deck next to the freight and Amtrak rails. All cars, buses and the lightrail (Max) thunder across the river on the deck above us. We can ride up and down the river on both banks through a waterfront park or an esplanade.

It's simply beautiful to bike here. Everywhere I go with Mr. Man, people comment on his cool bike and how great he is doing. They're right, of course, but it's cool that this community sees how hard he is working and urges him on. He always gets comments from passers-by. He is strong and dedicated to biking. On Thursday we were taking a new route with a steep downhill toward our local creek when he got going too fast, braked too quickly and wiped out. He skinned both knees, but took serious layers of skin off his right elbow. In super kudos to me, I don't freak out as the blood begins dripping off his elbow onto the street and his shrieks begin. Some neighbors come out and patch him up (complete with the awful stinging of hydrogen peroxide! Yikes!). Nothing slows him down and we were back to steep downgrades on Saturday on our 8-10 mile ride.

We explore more each weekend, but we have barely scratched the surface of biking possibilities here. I've checked out two books from the library on local rides (ranging from 14-100 miles). We can get up to the Columbia River, cross it and bike around Vancouver, WA or head east through the Columbia Gorge and the breathtaking cliffs and waterfalls. There possibilities are limitless. We're loving it. I haven't had a chance to take an all-day adventure on my own, but hope to within the next month.

When money is plentiful, Mr. Man and I fantasize about getting Ama a cruiser so she can join us on journeys. We've seen ones that we like in nice shiny colors with a basket and wide-ass tires complete with whitewalls. Every time Mr. Man and I pass by a cruiser, we comment on how it would be good for Ama.

So, to review - I really like biking. I really like this city. I have an awesome family. I'll be finished with school in May. Our house will sell and we're getting rent from the new owner in the meantime. We're starting to find other queer families through monthly events at the Q Center (Yes, we have a queer center!). I'm happy and satisfied.

The Summer on Wheels

Yesterday I helped Mr. Man learn how to ride his bike sans training wheels. He took to it immediately. I gave him the loving you-might-fall-but-you-can-get-back-up-again speech and some tips for how to stop himself from falling. I guided him a few times, but largely he found his balance and figured out how to keep his bike up almost immediately. I knew he had strong gross motor skills - but damn! Within an hour and without having fallen once, he was off and riding.

He took a little break and when his grandfather came outside to watch, he got a lesson from Papa on how to start by himself. That took a little bit, but Mr. Man was on his bike all day long and by the end of the day he was a pro. He was starting by himself, braking and stopping and riding in sharp circles by the day's end. There was only one spill over which he shed any tears and largely there weren't that many spills.

He was so proud of himself and it was so awesome to watch him be so happy at having mastered a new skill. It was a wonderful day for he and I. I remember like it was yesterday learning to ride my bike for the first time. It's so cool to be on the other side, helping a little one learn. The joy in his eyes was beautiful and I was happy to watch him.

I'm amazed that the baby who grew in my womb has become an independent young person. These milestones are sweet and sad and sometimes I feel intensely how each step he takes is a step further away from me.

Summer is upon us and I'm ready for the ride. Happy solstice.