A book for my to-read list

It's always been abundantly clear that David Byrne is cool. He just is. And now that I know he has total bike love, I find him even cooler.

Check out his review of the new book by Jeff Mapes, Pedaling Revolution: How Cyclists Are Changing America, in the NYTimes. One of Mapes's points (in Byrne's words) particularly caught my eye: "...when more women begin riding, that will signal a big change in attitude, which will prompt further changes in the direction of safety and elegance."

So come on, women, get riding. We are ready for the revolution.

I think I'll ride down to my library and see if I can rustle up a copy of Mapes's book.

Plus, check out the cover of this weekend's Times Book Review. I can't find the graphic online, but it is a great illustration of a woman dressed in a green summer dress riding along on her bicycle...

This one's for the grandparents...

and the uncles and aunts and anyone else who might be interested in a beginning six-year-old violinist performing in one of his first recitals. All the rest of you, please feel free to move along....

Families that ride together....

Here are some snaps from school drop-off.  We have a few families consistently commuting by bikes now that the spring has arrived.  We attempted our own small version of 'Ride to School Day' last week but alas, it rained so only a few of us crazies went for the two-wheel commute.  Let's see if tomorrow's postponement date brings out more family bikers.

Colleague in the Box

Where's a camera when you need one?

Each month, my school has a faculty meeting in the evening. The meetings start at 5:30PM and the school provides dinner. It is a big discussion each month what we should order for a meal and it is a lot of pressure on the Assistant to the Director (AD) who is ultimately responsible for the menu planning. Tonight, taking advantage of the warm weather and the brighter evenings, we enjoyed a cook-out with a special addition of a certain light malted beverage and fresh lime. The music teacher walked into the meeting space, took one look at the drink selection, and commented, "Boy, I love teaching at this school!"

After the meeting was over, I stayed to help clean-up the last bit. AD also stayed and asked if I had brought the car because she needed a ride home. We have always carpooled to this evening meetings so I was quick to invite her to join me in/on the bakfiets. At first, she balked and thought of asking another colleague. I must admit that I bullied her a bit (in a kind way, of course), explaining that there was plenty of room in the cargo box, that all three boys and their stuff weigh more than she, and that recently a pregnant friend rode in the box for a couple of blocks. And so-- I flipped the seat up, put the seat pad on the bottom of the box, and gamely, AD stepped aboard.

It took only a block of riding for her to exhale and soon, she admitted that "Wow, this is fun! I can see what kids would being in the cargo bike." Folks sitting on their front porches got a kick out the site of a blond attractive woman, sitting with her knees up, cruising by in this curious contraption. AD got into the spirit of things, waving to interested passersby just as my sons do. Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front of her apartment building, true door-to-door service. Unfortunately, we didn't call ahead to her husband to greet us outside with a camera. I suspect it would have made a good shot.

Carfree Overseas

If you haven't yet seen this article from the NYTimes about a German suburb that is carfree, where residents all walk or bike, check it out now.

Juxtaposed scenes from a bike commute

I reach the intersection as the light turns red. A car is stopped to my left so I pull up a bit more to make sure the driver can see me on his side. I hold out my arm, signalling my intention to turn right. I hear another car, impatiently zipping up behind me, a toot of a horn. I feel a whoosh as the arriving car squeezes itself by me on the left, nearly brushing my leg, as it pushes in front of the already stopped car. With the light still red and hardly a break in the traffic running perpendicularly in front of us, the tooting driver pulls a quick right, again too close to our bike, too close to the cargo box where two of my children sit. I mumble some sentiments I don't want my sons repeating as I glance at this reckless driver. I see a familiar face and a fumbling of a neon orange and yellow vest as the driver is simultaneously getting uniformed-up and making a tight right turn. One of the local school's crossing guards is obviously late for work. She comes closer to hitting us than any other driver we've encountered since our bike commuting began as she rushes to keep schoolchildren 'safe.'

_______________________________________________

The rain comes down for the third day in a row. The boys are nestled in the cargo box, warm and dry under the red weather tent, engrossed in TinTin books. My eyeglasses are dotted with raindrops, but the funny little visor on my Bern helmet keeps them from being completely drenched. My black Columbia rain jacket does it job, wetness rolling off my sleeves, but my pedaling legs become increasingly damp. The dark, rain-soaked circles on my pant legs grow with each up up-pump. My foot slips a bit on the pedal. Passing one of the local Italian markets, I feel a slight movement on my right side and hear small splat. It takes me just a moment to realize that my keys have somehow escaped my raincoat-- jumping from my pocket to the slick street below. I pull quickly to the right, a jarring stop, jostling the cozy readers inside their cocoon. I jump off the seat, kick my left foot, toes striking the release on the kickstand. As I turn to run back to recover the runaway ring of metal, a young man leaving the market puts down the box he was carrying. He races out to the street to pick up my rebellious keys and returns them to my outstretched hand and words of gratitude.

A Fictional Role Model...

"Anna Bee had arrived at Miz June's on her Schwinn, her poof of white hair tucked under her bike helmet that had a small lightning bolt on the side. She rode her Schwinn everywhere. You could see her around town, her basket filled with a sack of groceries or a waxed white doughnut bag or a package tied with string as she headed to the post office. It made you proud of her."

~Deb Caletti

Honey, Baby, Sweetheart