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.
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.
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
I haven’t felt much in the mood for bicycling in the past couple of days. Crazy, I know, but as my days in New Orleans wind down, I feel myself moving to walking speed. Yesterday I paced back and forth through the Quarter, picking up $10 in the process. Today I drove around town running errands and shipping the first bunch of boxes to Baltimore. Tonight I walked over to the bar/restaurant for dinner and drinks with friends, some of whom I met too late, but isn’t that always the way. M. walked me homr for some conversation and cat talking with Z. I walked her to her truck and took her offered ride to Cafe du Monde for late night beignets and coffee, a nice walk home to follow. I can see the outlines of the goodbye tour; sometimes the bike ride is simply be too fast. Oh, I miss you already. Sometimes you just need to walk it off.
I woke up too early but early enough to meet M., D., and J. For a pre-brunch coffee and muffin. It was just after 9:00am on a Sunday, so the streets were empty, the air smelling a bit like somebody had a “good” time last night. I pedaled over to St. Claude to pick up the bike lane, but I got stopped by another train on the tracks at Press Street. Yep, the same Press Street where Plessy tried to take a seat, but now it’s where we regularly get stuck waiting for a train to roll up and down the tracks, switching rails, but it’s still Plessy’s street just the same. Most folks know to take a right here and beat the train at Chartres, but I was in no mood to race, happy to settle in and watch the thing rock back and forth, back and forth. But then cars were making their turns and going around the train, and I felt like some kind of rube, standing there waiting with my bicycle like I didn’t know I could go around. I gave in to the phantom peer pressure and went on my way, stopping to take a picture of train at momentary rest with yet another vehicle going around. it is rather amazing to me sometimes how much work I have to do to make myself stand still, and I wouldn’t have minded standing still a little longer this morning. And then I rolled up to the cafe just as M. and D. did, and I was just happy to see them. I am going to miss some friends something fierce.
Today’s bike ride took me Uptown for brunch with N. and the visitation with my cats, currently ensconced with former students/cat ladies. The weather was a typical New Orleans summertime thing: gray skies, then sun and coconut clouds, and finally a return of that steel blue and a total downpour. But the rain didn’t start falling until after I made it back down to the Marigny to meet S. for a ride to the Record Raid at Siberia, another place that could seriously use some nike racks. I don’t own a record player, nor do I ever really wish I did, except on afternoons like this, watching people sift through the boxes for music they didn’t know they wanted. It took me about two minutes of shuffling to find a copy of Bruce’s Born in the USA. My sister and I used to listen to that album at our dad’s place, on near-constant repeat when no one else was home, that and a Los Lobos album. I remember the day we scratched it, by accident, of course–probably resetting the needle for the title track. I was so scared I was in big trouble, but more than that, I was scared the fun was over. Thing’s have turned out better than expected. Still love that record so much. I sat on a stool, had a drink (Crown Royal, something else that reminds a kid of her pops), watched other people shop, and listened to another monsoon. What a nice way to end the day.
I flew back to New Orleans today after a week setting up my new life in Baltimore. The weird thing about transitional periods is that the are, well, transitional. I’m in my second sublet of the summer–all my stuff is packed in boxes in my office that’s not really my office anymore–and I’m just here for three more weeks before I go back, and I really just want to get to riding those hills in Baltimore so I can get better at it, but I also don’t want to leave New Orleans. I mean, I know how to live in this town and how to bike around it, and it’s kind of scary to think about actually living in that sprawling metropolis! And the biking! I know these streets, all the cracks and traffic patterns and tendencies of cars and pedestrians, and I trust myself to ride in a straight line no matter where I’m riding, which means that I’m never really afraid. I snapped this picture while waiting for my turn at the light on St. Charles and Martin Luther King, watching the cars go by, listening to the streetcar come up behind me, avoiding joggers on the tracks. There’s a lot going on, but I am expecting all of it. I’m still not sure what to expect of Baltimore’s streets, and I’m both anxious to find out, and wanting to stay here, in my comfort zone. There will be a healthy amount of fear management in the next year. But not tonight. Tonight there was an easy pedal back downtown, an order of beignets, a good chat with my pops, and a walk along Frenchman, listening to the music start to pour out of the doors. Yeah, let’s try to stay in the present, but get in some longer rides to improve that cardiovascular fitness for the hills. It’s a balance.
So back when I thought I might be a runner before figuring out it hurt my shoulder (don’t ask), I followed that Couch to 5K program to the letter, and it worked. Where’s the training program for the ten mile communte through hills both ways? Because that’s what I need. J. drove me and the rental bike to campus today, I did a few paperwork things, and then it was time to practice the commute back to the city. It started with a 3/4 of a mile ride up the incline of the aptly-named Hilltop Circle and then a right on the busy Wilkens Avenue. That offered some downhill respite, thank goodness, until another slow climb up Caton Avenue, where the traffic scared the pants off me, and I actually got off the bike and walked–I’d rather be safe than sorry. And then all of the sudden I was at the head of the Gwynns Falls Parkway, no cars allowed! How wonderful! I happily pedaled along the paved trail, stopping to take pictures like this one, of green walls hiding water and falls. Is this part of my commute, really, I thought. Turns out, no, so I turned back and retraced my steps and was back on the road with cars speeding by as I huffed and puffed my way to North Avenue. One guy shouted from his stoop on Fulton that I would catch more of a breeze if I just pedaled faster. Excellent plan, sir, but not one I am yet able to follow. Pedal, pedal, pedal, buy a bottle of water from a guy on a corner–aid stations!–take a right, take another right, take a right, and I was back at the bike shoppe, returning my rental, rehydrating, and after all that, feeling surprisingly good. It took me forever, and ithe traffic got a little nuts at times, but I did it, and I can do it again. But I am going to need to be patient and to practice. Project, yay!
I woke up this morning in Baltimore, in a giant bed in a slightly run down but bargain basement hotel, and my first thought was about riding a bike. I’ve been staring at googleymaps of bike routes for months now, and I’m finally here–time to ride some roads. Continue reading
The day started out nicely–a little reading, a little writing–and then I graded some papers, and the mood started heading down. hill. It gets frustrating, how many students are just ill-prepared for college-level reading and writing. We are doing something seriously wrong. I moped around about it for a bit, and when the mood didn’t lift, I got on the bike, figuring that would help. But my plan was foiled by rain; I could see it before I could feel it, and that’s always a bad sign. I wear glasses–nothing fun–or safe–about riding in the rain. I snapped this picture while squished under an awning, and waited. It was the kind of rain that just sped up as the sun rolled in, and tap, tap, tap, I waited. Ok, fine, I’ll just get wet. I pedaled to the office, taught a class that left a terrible taste in my mouth, and rode home ahead of the next rain. Sometimes you just have days like this.
What I Saw Riding My Bike Around Today 