D Street Turning Begins

Autumn cycling is my favorite. I delight in the sound of dry leaves crunching under my tires as I trundle along on crisp fall days, a rich blue sky overhead, and the peculiar, earthy scents of the waning season swirling about. Some of my earliest memories of in-town cycling revolve around the joy of autumn, its peculiar light, and being part of it as I pedaled around my home town.

There are many splendid displays of fall color in Salem. I hope to take some pictures in the coming months to illustrate the visual pleasure of cycling in such settings. Perhaps my favorite is D Street, between 17th and 22nd or so. The trees there set up a remarkable sequence of green-into-gold that I first noticed years ago when I was an undergraduate in town. It is a treat to see it happen every year. There are a lot of leaves to clear away when they start to fall, and I doubt the local home owners view the onset of autumn with unalloyed pleasure. When the rain arrives and the piles begin to resemble huge mats of soggy Wheaties, I take a detour. Yet, when it is in its full glory, I am completely mesmerized.

Yesterday I took a picture of the trees on D Street. They are just beginning to change. Another season, a new set of joys and challenges. A happy autumn to all who read this!

Road Apples: The Curious Hazards of Utility Cycling

When I was making my way to church a couple of weeks ago, I found these rather surprising obstacles in my path...literal "road apples."

Hitting one of these head-on would be unlikely to knock me off my bike, but it could have, so I moved to avoid them. Bikes with enormously wide tires would probably just make some road-kill applesauce. One has to keep one's eye's peeled, indeed (pun intended).

  This brief encounter of the fruity kind made me think about all of the odd things one spots in the road while cycling. Aside from the unsavory and sometimes very sad carnage of various critters hit on our roads, there is the glass, the bolts, the squashed batteries, and assorted bits of detritus from garbage cans that fall out on collection day. Sometimes, items in the road record auto accidents (flare residue, or a large swath of red tail light plastic). At other times there are accidents waiting to happen: the storm drains which seem to be about six inches below grade, waiting to bend a rim when hit.  Then there are the minor tragedies of childhood: I'm watching a large purple lollipop in a bike lane near church gradually sublimate in the summer sun (does sugar do that? maybe it's just ants  disassembling it). Somebody must have been momentarily unhappy about that!

You never can tell what you will find between visits by the street sweeper. I've picked up a number of damaged but usable tools and bungee cords over the years. Yesterday there was a seemingly brand-new child's sandal lying forlorn in the midst of Breyman street. Lots of mittens seem to get lost each winter. Occasionally, I stop and prop them up on something, hoping they will find the little hands that lost them. I never really liked mittens as a kid. I probably shed some myself. I guess its just part of the cycle of things recorded in chapter one of Ecclesiastes.

Riding a bike allows one to enjoy the environment, it is true. But you still have to keep you eyes open. You never know when a road apple could come your way...

Utility Cycling in Salem in the Meantime

One of the main reasons I started this blog was to think about what it means to be a utility cyclist in a city where the auto still completely dominates and where there is very little interest in or understanding of cycling as a transportation tool. I haven’t done a lot of writing about it, but I think about it a lot…so, here goes.

Salem, Oregon is a fairly good-sized city. It is the state capital and boasts a smallish but highly regarded liberal arts university. Salem has a fairly interesting historic downtown, some attractive riverfront, enjoyable parks, and quite a bit of flat land around it well suited for cycling. My family and I (all natives or almost natives) are very happy to live here.

Much of the more upscale housing is located in the hillier, south and western portions of Salem. The most cycle-friendly neighborhoods tend to be less prestigious—but with a lot of potential. Indeed, Salem has land that could be very interesting to develop near downtown, and someday I believe this sleepy community will be well positioned for non-motorized living.

While there are some creative amenities for pedestrians and cyclists, much of Salem is deeply shaped by the automobile. Huge semi-freeways course through the heart of the city, creating moats or no-man’s-lands that effectively cut off various neighborhoods from each other. This contributes to some neighborhoods becoming isolated and then declining. Over the years, the general trend in development policy here has been a very steady and zealous preference for auto-centric transportation along a few hyper-strip mall corridors. The location of many stores and services makes this clear. There is public transport, there are some great coffee spots, shops, and restaurants downtown, and a very few grocery stores exist in the city’s core, but for the most part a car is the only practical way to participate in life here. Salem's core still seems meant to be visited by people on its fringes, not lived from the inside out.

The Union Street Bridge on a cloudy day...

A few great exceptions to this exist: a splendid pedestrian/cycling bridge across the Willamette River (with some problematic connection issues on both ends, though), a couple of sharrowed roads downtown, a great promenade along the railway downtown (again, with some strange problems at either end), wayfinding signs (both of the typical and more quirky varieties), and some odd bits of infrastructure here and there…but it is pretty piecemeal and fragmentary. Lots of bike lanes exist…but of the kind on very busy, debris-strewn streets that few but the most bold or aggressive cyclists take.  

This isn’t going to change anytime soon.

Unlike some other cities in Oregon, Salem is not very progressive. Sometimes I think this is OK. Trendiness can get very old when it becomes “more pose than poise.” All that progressiveness can make plenty of undelivered-upon promises, too, sometime throwing a party for everyone but not providing the food, dishes, or entertainment. But livability is another matter. What people want in a city—certainly of this size—is really changing, and changing fast. Perhaps because many of the people who guide government and private industry here are from an earlier generation, or maybe because of a “play it safe” attitude that trends to mediocrity, Salem continues to replicate the priorities of several decades ago in its transportation planning. The few courageous exceptions bring out a surprising amount of criticism from the populace—usually about the waste of money on non-auto infrastructure.

While other cities in Oregon are busy coming up with innovative ideas for how to get grants to build cycling or pedestrian projects that would point towards a renewed urban core (something that demographers say is clearly where the trend is going, just as it once was for loop-and-lollipop suburbia years ago), Salem has been flirting once more with a ludicrously expensive Willamette River bridge proposal that has all the fingerprints of a complete boondoggle. With a large underprivileged population needing transport, the bus routes keep getting cut back. When a Salvation Army Kroc center was painstakingly planned for and cited here, it was put in about the most remote and hard-to-get-to area in town. Now, it is in serious usage trouble. We just don’t seem quite ready for the future yet.

In the mean time, those of us who enjoy utility cycling and feel it has a positive social value for many reasons must make our way around town. That’s what this post is really about (finally).

When I began regular utility cycling in town about a year after moving back to Salem, I needed to learn the best biking routes to my office at church, the hospital, some good places to meet people for lunch, and various parishioner homes in the central section of town. I knew there were many routes I took in the car that wouldn’t feel comfortable on the bike (they don’t always feel very comfortable in my car, truth to tell). This put me on a number of weekend exploration rides.

Getting ready to cross one of the several speedways surrounding downtown

Gradually, I learned about some alternate routes, streets that avoided—or safe crossings of—the vast speedways built in various parts of town over the years. I got comfortable with previously unfamiliar quiet neighborhoods through which I could pass in order to move around in peace, and I learned where the best alternate routes were for different kinds of weather or road conditions. It proved to be a ball. This is, at heart, a town with excellent biking potential.

Along the way, I discovered that Salem has a number of enjoyable, rather hidden accommodations for pedestrians and cyclists, especially in the form of lovely bridges over the many streams that course through the older part of our city. I plan to do a little photo-tour of them here sometime.

A hidden bridge discovered one day

I discovered some parts of what seems to have been an abortive attempt at connecting various sections of our city’s core for pedestrians in the 1970’s and early 80’s, and I learned about how parks and alleys can figure into an ad hoc “Comprehensive Make-Do Salem Biking Plan.” All-in-all, I can get a lot of places pretty comfortably in the main body of Salem now.

A rather daunting, concrete brutalism underpass--made necessary by yet another downtown
speedway--allowing pedestrians and cyclists to move in relative safety...
just remember to ring your bell as you enter!

Do I think we are going to see a significant amount of change in the cycling infrastructure here in the near future? No. Some changes, yes, but I’m not sure that enough of the key folks in local government and the business community have a grip on this issue (or, for that matter, actually live here) to bring change yet. But I have hopes (this is, after all, a big part of what it means to be a priest).

Being a utility cyclist here is still very much a minority pursuit. It will likely be so for a while. But, I am seeing more people out there cycling in anything approaching decent weather. Rising energy prices, demographic shifts, environmental concerns, and  a new understanding of what community and the “good life” is are all going to turn the tables on the Heroic Auto Culture and the cities built to accommodate it—even in Salem. For now, though, it’s a time of creativity and adventure as we pioneers pedal along, under the radar.

Bringing Communion across the Union Street Bridge via the old portion of Front Street

As things go, we will probably end up thinking of these as “the good old days of do-it-yourself utility cycling” in Salem before the Big Change.

Wouldn’t that be nice…?!

Back in Business...

After a few days sans bicyclette, I am now officially back on the bike, thanks to the good efforts of the folks at The Bike Peddler in downtown Salem. I've put the wheel back on the bike, made a few adjustments to some parts that were now settled in, and have begun the process of finding out whether or not Raleigh Bikes, USA are willing to stand behind their so-recently-puchased product.

Being car-bound this week turned out to be OK, really. Cycling in my vocation has its limitations...there are people too far away for me to cycle to practically (pastoral visiting is, along with worship and teaching, at the core of my clerical life), and there are days when I simply need to get too many places that are too distant from one another to bike. However, what I know after this week, yet more than before, is that cycling is often a great deal more enjoyable than driving and encourages a very different attitude towards the day--a certain quiet and calm.

As I drove and walked around town this week, I did notice myself looking at all sorts of people--and I do mean all sorts--cycling and thinking, "gee, I wish I could be doing that!" What a nice, kid-like feeling, and how pleasant it is to be able to join you all now!

Wheel Woes

Notice anything?

The above picture should make all but the most unaware cyclist cringe.  You will notice that one spoke is missing (if you look carefully) and that one is going in very much the wrong direction. It is broken. That’s two of 36 spokes broken. This is the second set of spokes that have broken on this wheel since mid-summer.

All of them have broken (predictably) on the hub end. The have all snapped when I was taking off from a dead stop. I often stand on my pedals to start, liking to get some momentum right away. I’ve done this for years…but these are the first spokes I’ve ever broken. I’m not sure exactly why they have broken, but I believe it is not simply because I’m a bit heavier than I ought to be. I’ve ridden a number of bikes at my weight (and heavier by a goodly share), and never had this happen. I haven't taken any serious bumps or attempted daredevil jumps. It seems rather odd, in my experience. All I know is that four times I've heard a rather unpleasant "ping!" when taking off...and this is the reason why. Has it happened to you?

I had the two earlier broken spokes replaced by a local bikes shop, but they warned me that a re-build was likely in my future—and so it is. The wheel is now well out of true, and all the spokes obviously need to be switched out with something stronger.

My main frustration is really with the cost. I believe I’m still under some sort of warranty…I guess I’ll find out about it soon enough. This is new territory for me! My past bikes have either been very old, or have given me no serious trouble. Right now, I’m withholding judgment on Raleigh. My hope is that all can be rectified soon.

One interesting thing I face now is that prime cycling weather is upon us (I adore autumn cycling), and I’m going to be laid up. My old Raleigh Sports is still on the inactive list, so I don’t have another bike to use. It’s back to the car for now…and that means both extending my range and paying some hefty gas prices!

That's two...across from each other.
Perhaps someone can easily tell why?

An update: Well, I'm told that it is "bad wire," together with machine-made wheel building that is at fault, and that I don't have to go on a major diet (at least for this reason). Apparently there have been many such re-builds on bikes made this way in recent years. Perhaps the "industry standard" spokes are all derived from one very narrow set of suppliers? Surprise, surprise.... Now we will see if Raleigh has anything to say about it!

Over the Hill…but in a good way!

I suspect one of the chief obstacles (in both the literal and metaphorical sense) to many people biking is hill-climbing. Biking can be challenging enough for new utility cyclists, what with rules of the road, gears, braking, dealing with traffic, the weather, &c. Add to this some steep-ish hills that heat a person up and make special cycling clothes seem unavoidable, and it all gets to be too much for many people to “make the leap” into regular utility biking. I do have a suggestion, though:

Get off and walk your bike up the hill.

Unless you live in a very hilly location, walking a bike uphill is legal, sane, and perfectly reasonable. To me, the interesting question is: why is walking a bike up hill so difficult for us today? It wasn’t always this way.

I can remember seeing lots of people (except young men out to prove something to themselves or others) walking their bikes up hill when I was young. Then came ten speeds. Suddenly, cycling was only about sport, fitness, and intensity. To dismount from your bike and walk up the hill was a sign of being a sissy, a wimp, a fatso. So, people had to strain, sweat, and nearly kill themselves to stay in the saddle at all costs so as not to imply they were abject physical failures. This all happened about the same time as it became rare to see middle-aged and older people on bikes around town. These two things seem related to me.

Utility cycling is a great way to get out of the “rat race” by opting for transport that is slower and healthier for the total person. It should not (in my opinion) be about substituting one obsessive compulsion for another. Using a bicycle needn’t always involve getting covered in sweat. It can be a fairly mellow activity. Sure, exercising via bicycle is great, but is that the only way we can justify things in our society? Must it always involve some tangible “product” or “benefit?”

Just a few days ago, I was walking up a hill when I met up with a neighbor walking his dog. It turned out that we were both going the same way, and the block or two we walked together proved both interesting and enjoyable. Yes, I missed a little cardio exercise, true; but a connection was made that I would have missed had I treated cycling as yet more hyper-focused American foolishness. So many of us say we want to live a more European-paced life: perhaps we ought to start doing so in the myriad little ways we are able. I’m beginning to see more seniors out on well-made, multi-weather upright bikes going at a reasonable pace these days, and I think it is a sign that sanity is returning in the cycling world. Let’s add walking bikes uphill to the Utility Cycling Manifesto (if such a thing exists)!

Cycling where I live involves some moderate hills. I’ve become able to go up most of them in the saddle fairly comfortably…but there are a couple of routes that have me walking up the hill, especially in warm weather. When I do so, someone driving or pedaling by is probably thinking “poor fellow—he can’t even make it up that hill.” But I could be thinking at that same moment “poor soul—s/he is more concerned with speed than living.”

Perhaps we all ought to be thinking less about the judgments and more about how we can lead healthy, balanced lives.

Cycling to the Hospital: The case for pedal pastoring

My life involves frequent trips to the hospital…not as a patient (yet), but as a pastoral visitor. One of the central parts of being a parish priest is visiting the sick and those preparing for/recovering from surgery. It gives one a lot to think about.

I am blessed to live within easy cycling distance of the hospital. I say this from personal experience, as the last parish I served was about seven miles away from the nearest full-scale hospital, and in heavy traffic it could take about half an hour to get to a parishioner from my home. Now it is a matter of minutes. In fact, it is close enough that it can take less time to make it to a parishioner’s bedside via bicycle than it does to drive the car, park, and wend my way to the room. Beyond this, though, there is a personal side benefit to bicycle-borne hospital calls.

Hospitals are becoming bigger and bigger; they are also becoming more and more technology focused. Medicine is, to be honest, big business. At times, the purely human dimension of hospitals seems to be on the retreat. The scale of structures, their construction materials (lots of reflective metallic, stone, and glass surfaces) combined with the omnipresence of complex technology can turn a place of healing for humans into something that feels much more like a factory. I know this isn’t the hospital’s intention, but it does strike me that way.

Driving to the hospital requires entering a warehouse-like parking structure, manoevering in various circles, often screeching tires even when going slowly, warily avoiding running into a car backing out or a pedestrian distracted by events connected to a visit, and walking about in semi-empty structures (especially late at night).

When I bike to the hospital, I experience something rather interesting: a re-assertion of the human into the midst of this massive, complicated, sometimes overwhelming place. Rolling up to the hospital quietly and gently on my bike, locking up, and then making my way inside is much less mechanical, much less anxious. I have noted how cycling to see a parishioner in hospital—whether it be during the day or the night—leaves me room to approach the entire experience more prayerfully, bringing less anxiety along with me into this frequently anxious environment. Even seasoned clergy find hospitals can be very challenging places, after all.

This is yet another time when the pace and character of more human-scaled transport has collateral effects. The mere physical act of cycling energizes and opens the body as one is preparing for a potentially profound encounter. Afterwards, the journey back home or to the parish church becomes a time for reflection, consolidation, and (especially) prayer.

I think one of the great themes of the twenty-first century will be returning the world to human terms. Our juvenile love of the machine inherited from the Industrial Revolution can and must mature into an appreciation for the sacredness of the human person, the environment, and the community. Cycling can be a surprisingly simple way to bring these issues in focus, and to act upon them in a creative, humane, practical way.