Month: August 2011

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Patched Asphalt at 26th and N. Charles

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Many New Orleans streets are paved in only the most technical sense, but I knew my potholes, and I knew to keep my eyes partially on the ground at all times. So far, Baltimore streets seem to be better, but they are also seriously wrecked. Riding as far to the right as practicable puts you in serious pothole territory, and in sinkholes and grooves and weird ripples. I stopped on my ride home from drinks with V. to snap this picture of some patched asphalt with a divot and the spray-painted lines that suggest work will be done here soon, Building a Better Baltimore. We have to pay for our infrastructure, people.

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Episcopal Church at Cathedral & Read

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Finally the rain stopped falling this afternoon and I got to take the Surly out for an inaugural ride in Baltimore. I headed up a few blocks to grab lunch, then over to the coffee shoppe for some work–yes,  I do have things to do besides unpack–and then to Mt. Vernon to meet V., my new colleague and future drinking buddy, for a large iced tea and some conversation. Man, the bike going downhill is a trip! I was seriously flying, and it felt fantastic, if a bit scary. I’m just not used to hills, but I won’t be saying that for long. Just being on the bike made me feel more at home, and I am seriously pumped to spend the next however many years doing laps, using gears, yelling on the inside for the Bolt bus to get out of my bike lane, it’s all I have. I was early to our date–the downhill ride took about three minutes, and I sat outside, looking up at the cloudy sky, thinking this church is awfully old and pretty, knowing that in the not-too-distant future I will take myself on a tour of the thing. So much new! I rode back on the uphill, grateful for my many gears and the part where I am not at all in a hurry.

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The Surly in a Baltimore Row House Stairwell

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I haven’t ridden my bike in an entire week. A week. That’s what moving will do to you–sitting in the car for days and then all the busy that comes with moving all your stuff to your third floor walkup,  unpacking, painting, shopping, painting, giving up, starting over, etc. But the bike has a spot, in the hallway, between the stairwell and the wall, with the ladder. We will ride again tomorrow. Patience, patience, moving is an exercise in it.

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The Surly in a La Quinta Hotel Room in Chattanooga, TN

Well, no bike ride for me today. I woke up early, ran this errand and that packed up the last of my things, shoved the bitter and suspicious cats in their cages, and for my last trick, strapped the Surly on the back of my tiny clown car and was finally off to Baltimore. I picked up S. from her place and we drove and drove and drove, one cat being all sweet and quiet, the other singing her songs, soothed only by early 90s rap and emo pop. We meant to stop in Birmingham, but why not keep driving? We pulled in to the pet-friendly La Quinta Inn and I locked my bike to a sign while unloading the cats. But I can’t leave my bike outside like that, not alone in a strange town. So here we all are, on our way to new rides, and with sweet new reflectors on my seat and pedals to boot.

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Blue Skies Over Lake Pontchartrain

I woke up kind of anxious, so after much hemming and hawing and reading the paper and about Malcolm X and eating a bagel, I remembered that what I really needed was a bicycle ride. I rode up Baronne, wondered if next time I ride it that pool will be in at the Y on Dryades, took St. Charles the rest of the way to Tulane, wondered if next time I ride it that gravel pit will be asphalt, and back and around to Carrollton, wondered if they will ever actually finish whatever they’re doing on Earhart. Continue reading →

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Malcolm Suber Speaking at the Anti-ALEC Rally at the Federal Courthouse on Poydras

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Today’s ride took me down to the Federal Courthouse on Poydras, a place that saw a lot of action today. The verdicts were in on the Danziger 7: guilty, guilty, guilty, all 25 counts. I was shocked. I am not used to the police being held accountable for violence against people of color, not at all. Now, I am under no illusions that putting a few individual men in prison fixes a social problem–I mean, we’ve got to reckon with the part where this just might be the system working like it’s supposed to. And I don’t think we should be putting anybody in prison–that’s not the safety I want. But these convictions mean something, that police can’t do these things under the cover of disaster. That is huge, and it is good for all of us. This afternoon the place was the stage for a different show, a protest against the meeting of ALEC, a right wing think tank with a purchased place at the government table. I took this picture of Malcolm Suber as he reminded us that we are in a class war, but it’s rich against poor, and we best start fighting back. And then we walked, me pushing my bicycle as I listened to R. tell me stories about learning to be an activist, talking about how we teach those lessons. Round and round the Marriot we went, so many lessons in this day.

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View of the Swamp From the Cajun Pride Swamp Tour in LaPlace

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Today’s bike ride was a short one, just to the drugstore and back for cash to feed my bagel and coffee habit now that I’m back in Central City–La Playa, you’ve got my number. I am just so tired from these final days of packing and saying goodbye that I just don’t have the energy to do much of anything. But man, I liked the look of my bike locked up with that New Orleans background. a neighborhood acquaintance stopped by, reintroduced himself from that COMSTAT meeting we were both at after Serpas announced they’d be open to the public. “I’d recognize that Surly anywhere,” he said. Yeah, I’m going to miss that small town feel when I move, but I bet I’ll get it back. After another round of sorting, I gasp got in the car and drove out to LaPlace for a swamp tour–didn’t seem right to leave town without one. I was the only person flying solo, but that happens to me all the time. I felt a lot more out of place being the only one who hadn’t seen Swamp People. There were so many alligators, too many, even. I could have don’t with an extra great blue heron or two, though that raccoon family was a total bonus. I snapped this picture while the boast was stopped to let everyone pass around that poor baby alligator for pictures. The swamp is really, really beautiful. I look forward to a return.

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Stay Tuned For Something Special At Louisiana & St. Charles

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Tonight’s ride took me to Carrollton to meet M., K., and J. for dinner. I wasn’t much in the mood for a ride, but I knew that was all the more reason to take the bike. The sky had that look about it, so I wasn’t surprised to get caught in a shower. It wasn’t the kind of rain that makes you have to pull over for safety, more the medium setting on the nozzle at a hotel. And then all of a sudden it eas over and the asphalt was dry. Nice. After dinner I sped down St. Charles as fast as I could, enjoying the feel of the slightly cooler air. I stopped to take a picture of this banner promising exciting new things at the empty hull that used to be Border’s, built with millions in Go Zone dollars, open for about fifteen minutes, and now empty again. But something special is going to be here soon. Maybe it won’t be a big box bookstore or funeral home, but surely it will be something special, which mostly means somewhere to buy something that’s not actually really special at all. For M.’s sake, I hope it’ an H&M. Pedal, pedal, pedal, froyo with S. that helpfully returned my eyes front, and then home. Yep, I needed a bike ride.

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Generators at Chartres & Elysian Fields

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It was so, so hot today, so I spent most of it inside in air conditioned comfort. I rode to the coffee shop to meet M. for a work date, likely our last for awhile. Afterward I made the quick ride to the bar to meet M. for a Pimm’s cup and a little scuttlebutt. She is going to do just fine here. By the time we finished dinner it had cooled off just enough for a ride around the Bywater. I stopped to take a picture of this power station on Chartres and Elysian Fields. It looks eerie at night, with its coils and heft and height. It is imposing, but it has become so much a part of my landscape I don’t even see it anymore. But it’s there, and that part where we all use energy like there’s no tomorrow? That will catch up to us sooner or later, so we best not forget what we started. When the machines rise up, they atent going to look like people, but they are going to have effects we didn’t plan for. And then there’s the part where it’s kind of beautiful. I contined my ride home and thought about what it might be like to ride a bike in autumn.

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Helmetless Head Riding Around The French Quarter

I woke up tired and feeling a little sickly, and I knew it was bad when I left my house with my bike but no helmet. What! I always wear my helmet. I read a story about health officials coming out against mandatory helmet laws, arguing partly that there isn’t conclusive evidence helmets decrease serious injuries for cyclists as a group. I rode my bike a mile and a half to brunch, all naked-headed. Yeah, that just doesn’t feel right. I didn’t even feel carefree, wind in my hair, all that jazz. A helmet on my head is what feels normal to me. I was so tired I went ahead and drove to E.’s house this evening. I can’t really believe people feel so scared to ride a bike and yet so safe in a car–there’s so much heavy metal hurtling through space at high speeds! But we make the trade off for the convenience of the thing to get us more places faster. I wear my seatbelt, or my helmet, neither of which takes the place of defensive driving/riding. And then there’s the faith that the people behind you are going to respect your space. It is totally worth it to get to ride a bike, and the more us us do, the safer we all are, helmet or not.