Bike Commute (A Cellphone Camera Pictorial)

They Got Jokes on the Bike Trail

This guy has overseen many of the miles I've ridden. You can find him along the trail just north of the underpass of 161 on the south side of Westerville.

He's handsome, talented, and I'm proud to call him a friend.

I, Bike Ride

I know where the missing neighborhood cat is.

I see single mothers sneaking cigarettes on their balconies in the early morning hours before their children awake.

I break all the spiderwebs stretched across the trail.

I can tell you how many times a couple indulged in safe sex in the Cooper Park parking lot by counting the discarded condoms.

I can tell you about coming out of a patch of trees to find the sun pulling itself over the horizon.

I know all about the chubby people sweating and gasping through their winter weight because I am one of them.

I can tell you that there are at least 7,542 rabbits between Easton and Westerville.

I can show you where young couples sneak into the woods to sit and be together near the river.

I miss the graffiti painted on the trail that told everyone "Kyle is gay!"

I know that there are an inordinate number of shitheads who drink Bud Light Lime and smash their empties on the pavement.

I see ducks swimming in streams not much wider than their own bodies and they seem just as happy there as they do in the largest of lakes.

I can show you where Jen and I found the tiniest snake trying to cross the trail, and how I prodded him out of traffic with my sunglasses.

I know who doesn't bother closing their blinds.

I hate that my bicycle seat has started to squeak because while I can't help looking like a fat guy on a bike, I don't want to sound like it too.

I know what bush he hides behind to sneak phone calls.

I like riding by the animal shelter at dawn and hearing that even there, with all the bored tenants waiting inside, the early morning can bring silence.

I know that the old man in front of me didn't used to have to walk alone.

Bike Gang Bitches

I have this program on my blog that notes when someone visits it. It also tells me where the person is from, and how long they were on my site. It's always been cool to me when someone stumbles across my little page and decides it's interesting enough to check out, even if for just a few minutes. Let's be honest, most of the shit here isn't interesting in the least if you don't know me…and even that's a stretch. Most of it's a bit boring.

So, you can imagine how cool I think it is that I now have a regular West Coast reader. Whoever you are, Mr/Mrs California, it's nice to have you along. You can stand proud with my Ohio, Indiana (thanks to Facebook), random Canadian, and steady Minnesota readers.

The other funny thing is that this service I use also tells me if the person came from a search engine, and if they did, what they searched to find me. In addition to band names that I've used (Dead Confederate, Miniature Tigers, etc) and the thing I wrote about the recent death of Lux Interior, the biggest referral to my site has been Google searches for, and I quote, "Bike Gang Bitches".

At what point in your life do you ever sit down and say, "I need more information about Bike Gang Bitches. Where should I look?" I did my own Google search for Bike Gang Bitches, and while I won't go into detail, I will say that I'll never be the same. I can only imagine people's disappointment when they come to my site expecting to be blown away by the massive volume of Bike Gang Bitches material, only to find a blog about me listening to records and washing my dogs.

After seeing some of the other sites out there, I'm disappointed with myself.

So, if you're reading this, and you're not ashamed to be known, drop me a comment to let me know you're around. I'll try to accommodate any reading preference you might have, even if that means including more info on angry half naked women on motorcycles. It'll be tough on me, but I'm here to serve.

Winter's Return & Spring's Training

The rain from last week had brought the earthworms out of the soil, and they lay stretched across my parking pad and sidewalk, bloated, drowning, and stinking. Today, the local news said we're expecting snow, and I imagine I'll get home tonight to find white crusted earthworms scattered across the pavement.


The cold weather is supposed to stay a few days just to make room for more rain by the end of the week, so immediately my hopes of bike commuting are gone. Ah well...it's early. The actuality of Spring will finally catch up with the calendar, and when it does, I'll be ready.

Spring was in effect this weekend at least, and we milked it. Saturday we had to go do SAT testing in the morning. I managed to finish reading No Country For Old Men before the first half of the test was over and had to run out to the car for my backup book (another stupid vampire book in the series I can't stop reading). After the testing, we headed to my brother's house to hang out for the afternoon. We wound up taking a hike through their local park that afternoon (that's my brother in the first pic, looking like he's ready to strangle mother nature and curse the sun) and heading out for lunch afterward. It's painfully obvious to me how much worse of shape I'm in than I was just last fall. This fact was demonstrated yet again when we went hiking the next morning down in Hocking Hills (second pic). Still, I survived.

After the hike I went over to The North Market to do some meat shopping and loaded up on some dead cow at Blue's Creek Farm. They were really cool, taking lots of time to answer my questions (animals are free range, free fed, are taken to slaughter weekly and put down using a .22 or stun gun) even though the market was packed. I hit up The Fish Guys for some salmon to grill that night, and then stopped to grab a piece of baklava on my way out. Then it was more shopping before making dinner (the aforementioned salmon along with steamed broccoli and a small spinach salad) and watching The Fresh Prince of Bel Air in Seven Pounds (not bad).

This morning I had the idea of hiring Kevin Smith to come in and play me for a week since I really can't afford to take a week off right now. If he put on a bald wig, muttered sarcastically and just clicked away at his keyboard and mouse all day, I don't think anyone would notice he's not me. Wonder how much that would set me back?

Mmmmmm...Full of Gnatty Goodness

Woke up late this morning. Really late for me. I rolled over and saw the clock said 9:30 and was a bit surprised. I know, some of you are thinking that's not even close to being late, but I can't help it. The older I get the more I get pissy about wasting a day in bed. Still, I managed to stay in bed for awhile longer to put a dent on "No County for Old Men". I've been wanting to read the book since I saw the film, and am not disappointed so far.

I let the dogs out to pee, and followed along to pick poop up out of the back yard. It felt so amazing outside that I went in and told Jen to get ready because there was no way in hell we were going to stay inside on a day like today. We got ready and headed to our favorite park on the North Side for a walk. After being there for a little bit, we got lazy and sat and watched ducks and geese on the lake. Not wanting to go home yet, we grabbed some Subway and went back to the park to eat (and play around on the deserted playground for a bit).

Two stops for planting supplies later, we were home to do a bit of yard work. I tried to pull as many of last year's leaves from under our bushes in front as possible while Jen planted some little pots with flowers. I get the feeling we'll be dragging those things in and out for the next several weeks until it's warm enough to leave them out all night.

Then, I finally got to go for a bike ride. It's my first this year, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a bit painful. I felt every little hill, and I was pretty fucking far away from being fast, but I made it to my office and back in one piece, so I can't complain too much. Well, except for when it comes to the bugs. The gnats were everywhere and I swallowed more than my share with my out-of-shape-mouth-breathing. I even had one lodge itself into the corner of my eye and refused to get out for half a mile. Good times.

I should be able to start bike commuting some this week, though I doubt my legs will want to tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday and Wednesday though. After that it's supposed to rain.


(Behold the beauty that is my commuter bike. Equipped with water bottle and rear tire rack to hold all my work stuff. Yeah, I'm that cool.)


Jen and I finished the night by hanging out here in the den. She played around on Facebook while I listened to some records (Jesus & Mary Chain, Wilco, etc.) and had a glass of wine.

It wasn't exciting, but if I could live every day of my life like this, I would.

Lazyman, New Heiruspecs & Voting

It's funny. After a couple weeks of not riding my bike due to bad weather, family in the hospital, and general laziness, I'm back in action. I feel like an old man though. My legs are tired. This morning I found myself wondering if I had brakes rubbing or something that would be slowing me down. No...it's just hard to pedal these days. That's what I get for not riding though. I'll ride to work the majority of this week and I should be back on point by the weekend. Really I just want to take advantage of the weather while I can.

The mornings are cold on the trail, and now that there are so many leaves on the ground even the smallest animals moving nearby sound like I'm being rushed by a heard of buffalo. Deer, just barely visible in the morning gray, become impossibly fast moving serial killers. The trash can at Cooper Park wants to torture me in its basement. Rabbits, hell-bent on revenge, dart in front of my tires, trying to steer me off the trail and into their lair where their families wait with knives and forks at the ready. That's right. Lairs. You didn't know that rabbits lived in lairs, did you? Now you do, so watch your ass.

In other news, Felix dropped a free Heiruspecs promo disk on his site the other day. Just click on FREE MUZAK , save it to your PC and drag it into iTunes for some free tunes. I was a big fan of "A Tiger Dancing" and some of their older stuff too, of course, but have to admit the new stuff reduces my interest in all things old. While it's not on my iPod yet, I listened through it last night and am digging them more and more. So, if you've ever wondered what Twin Cities Hip Hop sounds like, here's your big chance. You know me...I normally prefer my music soaked in reverb, layers of guitars, and a lead singer with a heroin habit but I'm branching out. You might want to try it too. In addition to his skills as an MC, Felix has mad skill organizing a Data Entry group. If you like what you hear, drop him a comment so he knows you're around.

I'm gonna ride home and then go participate in some Democracy. Then run home to see if Ohio is carried by my particular candidate of choice by one vote. If it happens, I'll run the streets taking credit for our collective win. Look for me, I'll be the big balding guy congratulating myself on the corner of Miller and Kelton. (I don't want to be seen in my own neighborhood.)

Fear and Loathing on the Bike (Gang) Trail

So, Jen and I started out on a ride through the late morning. We had planned on getting an early start, but had a hard time getting out of bed, so we made it a lunch time ride. The day was perfect. Just perfect. The sun was bright and hot, and the breeze was cool, and we started out slowly talking and riding side by side.


We made it through the soccer fields and over the second of the handful of bridges that we cross, when we started to go under the overpass for Rt 161. Ahead there was a jogger, plodding along down the middle of the lane, struggling to hold his pace.


The man appeared to be marching into his mid forties, and possibly just realized it himself, prompting the early afternoon jog on a Sunday. His form was sloppy, with arms flopping at this sides and his feet just skimming the pavement. I was worried he would trip and fall. The distance between us and him was closing fast.


When people use the middle of the trail, it's hard to know which side you should try to pass on. What's worse was a situation like today where the incline leading out from the overpass curves hard to the left, making it impossible to see oncoming traffic. Maybe Jen was thinking this through, or maybe she was transfixed as I was at the man's impossibly gelatinous gate, but she didn't signal a warning that we were going to pass until we were about 15 feet behind him.


"Ding!"


Crisp and clean as a syringe out of it's sterilized packaging, the bell we picked her up a month or so ago rang out. A happy sound, the bell brought her joy when I mounted it to her bike, and brings here even more joy when she gets the chance to use it. It's the sound of money. It's the sound of an angel getting its wings. It's the sound that lets this rolling yay-hoo know that we're going to pass on the right since his stupid ass is occupying the middle of the trail on a blind curve.

Homeboy freaked. I don't know if it was because he had just made it to the other side of the overpass and had been uncomfortable in the dark. I don't know if it was because he had once been hospitalized and the cruel doctors had rung a bell prior to each session of electro-shock. Whatever the reason, he jumped a foot in the air and then bolted to the left side of the track where he yelled the words that would become the catch-phrase of the weekend.

"WAIT A MINUTE!"

Jen, completely bemused kept pedaling as she smiled and said, "Hi there."

I was grinning like a fool but was so taken aback by his reaction that I could find nothing to say. He was legitimately scared. His eyes tripled in size, and while he was already huffing and puffing from his jog, I thought it would be a very long time before his body ever caught up with the demands of his lungs. His chest heaved, and a white ball of spit flew my way as he exhaled. I watched it rise and fall landing on the pavement three feet from where I rode.

We tried to give the guy a break and not mock him openly in his presence, but it wasn't long before we were shouting "Wait a minute!" and laughing like the mindless sinners we are. Jen, who wasn't excited about the ride to begin with, declared that moment to be worth a whole afternoon of pedaling.

Ike Lite

Sunday, after arriving home from my camping trip, Hurricane Ike came to Central Ohio. Compared to the force he displayed down south, Ike's arrival was more of a sigh or half-hearted fart but it was still enough to knock out power across the area. With a lot of our local crews shipped south to help the victims there, our crews here are short handed leaving a few places out of power still.

I don't know how we dodged the bullet. Normally our little neighborhood is among the first places to lose power and the last to get it back, but somehow we managed to only lose it long enough to have to reset the clocks once. We talk to people that we work with that talk about going out every day to find ice to put in their freezers, or who have gone to stay with relatives. We are very fortunate.

Speaking of fortunate, my lucky wife has been off work all week due to the power being out in most of the district that she works in. Each night we would get a prerecorded message saying that the buildings would be closed. Tonight it didn't come, so she headed to bed early to get ready for what she imagines will be a monstrous day tomorrow.

The damage is still everywhere though. Storms like this have the ability to quickly separate the wheat from the chaff. Trees that appeared strong snapped in two like twigs, revealing rotten cores. They are everywhere along the roadsides, tottering on lower branches unable to quite reach the ground, and piled in back yards for seasoning and burning.

Last night we went for a bike ride and the trail was littered with leaves, sticks, branches and a slowly powdering mix of dirt and bark. We rode slower than usual, steering through the mess and smelling that wonderful earthy smell of already decaying wood. It's amazing how areas we have been so familiar with before have changed. The landscape has changed with the storm and in some areas the changes make you feel like you are somewhere new.

So, tonight we headed to another one of our favorite parks for a walk and though the trails had been cleared the damage in the woods was amazing. It was a beautiful night but we walked fast, trying to keep heart rates up, while we examined the fallen trees and counted deer. Tomorrow, it'll be biking again. Hopefully the crews have been out to clean up a bit. Otherwise, I'll start moving branches myself.

The Bike Gang 500

Yesterday morning I loaded up the bike and drove to the trailhead at Easton. It was still dark, but a thin line of gray was slowly seeping out of the horizon, and threw enough light onto the trail so I wouldn't be completely dependant on my battery powered headlight. Like all of my rides, it started out with me asking myself why I wasn't just driving the fucking car to work. And, like all of my rides, after the first mile I was feeling it and loving it.

There are more leaves on the trail now, though I imagine most of them were less the result of the beginnings of fall and more the result of the late summer drought we had. Still, I like pedaling through the satisfying crunch of them and find myself steering towards little piles of them and feeling like a little kid. I rode hard on my way to work listening to a mix of Beastie Boys and Nine Inch Nails remixes while watching the sun break free of the edge of the world. Dozens of rabbits scattered off the trail before me and the occasional house cat would glare at me suspiciously from the taller grass as I pedal past. The air is crisp along the trails and occasionally I can pick up the smells of dryer sheets as people do last minute laundry, and then along the streets the air is thicker and smells of wood glue and exhaust.

The ride used to take me an hour and fifteen minutes, but I've got it down to fifty-four minutes on the way there and then forty-five on the way home (thanks to the downward slope). My commute used to take me at least a half hour anyway, so I don't see that I'm losing anything. I can't believe there aren't more people out there.

The thing that amazed me the most was that I hit the 500 mile mark on my way home last night. I knew it was coming up soon, but I happened to glance down at my odometer and saw that I was at 500.33 total miles ridden. If you had told me that I would ride that far when I first bought the bike, I would have laughed at you. Now I'm wondering if I can get to 1000 before the end of the year. I better get to crackin'.

Bike Gang, Talking Heads Style

David Byrne is gracing New York with several different versions of bike racks. What an amazing idea. I could totally see something similar to this here in Columbus. Maybe we'd have to settle for the guys of McGuffy Lane designing them or something but still...we could make the idea our own.

Cut Cut Cut

Tonight I trashed a big chunk of stuff that I had written for "Test Market". It was a mistake to go through and read some of what I had written, but still it happened and so I spent some time getting rid of some terrible terrible writing that would have had to have been cut anyway.

It isn't like I've been spending tons of time writing like I should be, so cutting really made a dent in the word count. It basically took me back to square one. To make up for it a bit, I just wrote out one of the creepiest bits of dialog I've ever written. So much fun, because I know that if I'm uncomfortable writing it, it's going to be downright painful for some people to read.

So maybe it's a good thing to be taking out the trash, even so early into the process. My interest in the project is renewed and I'm vowing to just plug away and not go back to read anything anymore. It's just too discouraging to see what an abysmal writer I can be.

That' s it for me. I'm going to go to bed and find something cheerful on television to fall asleep to. I'm up early in the morning for a nice long bike ride before it gets too hot. I've got to finish mapping out some routes for the Pedal for Pets charity ride I'm helping plan.

Nighty night.

BIKE GANG, American Style

How do you show your patriotism? By hanging one million flags on a highway overpass, that's how. This is the bridge over 71 on West Main Street. Show some respect, you!

After two practice runs over the weekend, I finally got my crap all together and rode my bike to work. All in all, it's a pretty easy route, but I still managed to show up to work a dishevelled overheated mess. I don't care. It was awesome.

I have to drive about six minutes from my house to the Alum Creek trail-head because the road I live off of would be suicide on a bicycle (for me at least). So, I park beside a craft store in Easton, and then get on the trail. Of the twelve miles I ride to work , the first three quarters of it is all along dedicated bike trails. They follow the creek, connect city parks, and border small residential neighborhoods finally taking me to Cleveland Avenue where I have to get on the streets and deal with humanity. The ride is a little over twelve miles long, but the first three quarters is along the Alum Creek bike trail. (For those playing along at home: Westerville Bike Trails.)

It's a really cool ride, but I'd like it even more if there were someone to do it with me. There's a girl at work here who is considering it, and I think she's going to do a practice run at it this weekend, so that would be cool. I'm also thinking about posting some fliers around the offices here (got BIKE GANG?) to let people know there's a good way to get some exercise, stick it to the gas man, and offer anyone who wants to come along. It would be cool if there was a little group of people that would ride to work a few times a week.

First things first though, I've got to get my bike a bit more commuter friendly. If I'm going to keep at this, I'm going to need a headlight before long and maybe something to make me more visible from behind. Also, I've been kickin' it old school sans helmet, and with me being on the streets some I'm going to have to rectify that. I've avoided it because I have a fat head and I don't want to look like I've got half a ping pong ball stuffed down on it, but whatever. It's the law of averages...sooner or later some chucklehead is going to swipe too close to me and I'll have to bail. Might as well be wearing a brain bucket when it happens.

So, tonight I ride home. Along the way I have to stop by and see the good folks at CHA and help walk some doggies for an hour and a half (the shelter's back yard actually meets the bike trail) and then onward home. I'll probably be asleep by nine.

Weekend Update

It's true. I've been morose a bit lately, but that ends today. Mrs. Merryman and I just wrapped up an excellent weekend together. Saturday we had mom come over and we headed over to the North Market. For my two out of state readers, the North Market is an institution in CBus. It's a combination outdoor Farmer's Market (all organic, grown by local farmers) with an indoor market with dozens of vendors selling everything from Vietnamese groceries, fresh baked bread, fresh fish (never frozen and from sustainable sources), and restaurant type food. It's an amazing place.
I bought Jen some Corkscrew Grass (weird grass that's as twisted and bushy as After-Sex Hair). We also bought some fresh salad greens, two big bundles of asparagus, some organic Pumpkin Apple Butter and some salmon steaks. We're getting a bit like hippies when it comes to food, but we're trying not to get carried away. We're digging the idea of clean eating, but the thing that I really like is supporting the local farmers. The prices are decent, and you know you're helping someone stay independent. Good stuff.

After heading back to Merryman Manor, we grilled up and tossed together our lunch, grubbed down and then Jen and I headed out to see The Strangers. It really was a decent movie. I was on edge most of the film and it was fun, but it's yet another horror movie with sketched characters and very little story. Yes, I get that it's kind of the point...random violence can happen to anyone without a reason or backstory, it's just not the most engaging story telling. Still, it was a bit disturbing, and very tense, so we had fun.

When we got back to the house we decided we didn't want to be inside yet, so we grabbed some water and headed over to Sharon Woods Metropark to walk around for a bit. It's a nice enough place, and it was cool because there were so many families out for graduation parties. Every picnic shelter was full of people. Kids swarmed around volleyball nets and old men played horseshoes. Normally, we like going to the park for some quiet and to be left alone, but there was something infectious about all the activity, and the five mile walk was over before we knew it.

Sunday morning was all about the Bike Gang. We got up early and headed out to do a trail that stretches between Johnstown and Newark. It's about 30 miles round trip, and we about died halfway back. It was so fucking hot. So hot. Still, it was fun. It's a great ride through the country and it's mostly a shaded ride. We saw some small animals along the way (baby raccoons are pretty cute, ya'll) and survived, so we were proud of ourselves. Of course I was useless the rest of the day and did very little else, but still...

"I Can Ride My Bike With No Handlebars..."

Each morning that I drive onto the service road that surrounds the office building, I search the small man-made pond to my right, looking for Great Blue Heron who is often fishing along the shallow banks. I haven't named him yet, but I will.


***


I used to know a guy named Lurch. While I'm sure that wasn't what his mother called him, I never knew his real name. Lurch and his friend used to hang out on the porch with us from time to time, but it was obvious they were a little more serious about killing brain cells than the average imbiber.

John was Lurch's hype man. When John would notice someone looking at the disjointed childish tattoos covering Lurch's arms he would say, "He did that shit himself! He's fucking awesome!"

The first night I met them, I watched Lurch guzzle an entire bottle of Robitussin cough syrup.

The last time I saw them they stumbled into the convenience store I was working third shift at and bought a box and a half of B&C Aspirin powders. They didn't recognize me, and I pretended not to know them.

"Hey man, do you guys sell razor blades?" John asked.

"Just safety razors." I told him.

"Fuck."


***

Last night I downloaded the "Fight With Tools" album by Flobots. If you have ever wanted to hear an MC rap over a super tight rhythm section, guitars, a Classical Violin and a Jazz Trumpet, you should really buy this. $8 on iTunes for the album is a steal.


***


Rain is coming this weekend in big fashion. The bike gang rolls for the final time for the week tonight. Another wild and crazy Friday night on the way.

We Have Rules for a Reason, Damnit!

The novelty of owning bicycles is gone now, and we're getting more and more serious about riding. While we haven't gotten out tons yet, we find ourselves watching the clock and wanting to beat our previous times. There was a hill that we had to walk part of the way up our first outing, but now we own it. (By "Own It" I mean we pedal slowly huffing and puffing our way to the top cursing anything that moves. Fucking chipmunks.)

It's still really fun though. That part hasn't changed for us at all. It's great to be outside, riding through the trees. Sure, you have to make yourself ignore the highway hiss from time to time, but it's not like you're in the middle of nowhere. In fact, not being in the middle of nowhere has other issues that come with it too.

Our first couple of outings were when the weather hadn't really turned yet. We were out there with a handful of others who were sick of their couches and treadmills and were ready to get out and about. Now though, as the weather warms and the evenings are longer, the multi-purpose trails in the Metro Parks are getting a bit crowded. Not overly crowded yet, but you have to keep an eye out so you don't mow down a family of three when doing 20 mph down a hill.

The main trail that we go to has the left side dedicated to bike traffic, but people drift in and out of lanes taking up the entire paved surface. Normally soft spoken, Jen (who generally leads), had a hard time speaking up to let people know we were passing on the left.

"Ah hem. On the left." she'd stage whisper.

Now though, the bike trail is Jen's trail.

"Passing on the left!" she says loudly as she buzzzes the newlyweds.

"This is the bike lane, buddy." she declares to the Hispanic gentleman who was so confused by the site of two bikes barreling down on him that he froze in the middle of our lane, unable to move left or right.

We encouter the occasional jogger who refuses to give up the lane, even though they're jogging the wrong direction and on the wrong side. I pity these men and women who unwittingly open themselves to unrequested direction.

"Simple-minded motherfuckers, every one of them!" she says drinking from her bottle of water while I lift the bikes back onto the rack, still trying to catch my breath.

It's not that my wife is mean. Far from it. It isn't even that she likes to strike fear in the hearts of the unsuspecting as she passes them so fast and close they can smell a trace of the perfume she wore to work that day. My wife simply believes rules were meant to be followed because they are there to protect us all. She believes this so deeply, she is willing to share her beliefs with anyone who may even look suspect of riding clockwise on the counter clockwise path.

I laugh at her on the way home, picking at her for the improptu "education" she was dumping on park-goers. She remains steadfast in the idea that the next time those people go to the trail, they'll keep in mind what she said and will stay on the walking path. Over a period of months, traffic will flow evenly and smoothly and we will all commune with the outdoors together in harmony.

It's this distance between reality and her ideas that makes Jen fun. She lives in that gap, hoping to bring everyone over to her side. Not just at the trail, but in most things. Recognizing the parallax, but choosing to ignore it, she treads on with her perspective of how it should be and just hopes that enough people will come around to see it her way.

I hope everyone on that trail knows how hard she's working to keep them all safe. She's exhausted.