Rob and I are almost exactly halfway across the country, spending the night in a Motel 6 in the tiny town of Big Springs, Nebraska. It's been a smooth move so far, maybe the smoothest move we've ever made, largely because this is the one big move (aside from the original move to Pittsburgh) I've really wanted to make. Some random observations:
If you're moving any distance at all, I strongly recommend using professional movers to pack your stuff for you. We used family for the last two moves (PA > Baltimore suburbs > Baltimore) and it took three times as long and they didn't do half as well. Best use of approximately $200 ever.
There is a distinct smell line where Corn Country becomes Beef Country. Kinda not looking forward to going through Wyoming tomorrow.
Moving with cats kind of sucks because you can't get out of the truck and see anything, or anyone. There are things and people we would have visited, but alas, cats.
We are almost exactly following the real Oregon Trail.
I have eaten far too much fast food on this trip, especially McDonald's, which are right next to almost every gas station we stop at. I guess I can consider it a last hurrah, since there is never any reason to eat fast food in Portland.
Tomorrow we cross the Rockies. I think the stress of crossing a major mountain range is dwarfed by the excitement we'll feel at seeing scenery that doesn't look like Desert Bus.
Oh, and in writing news, my flash story "36 Interrogatories...," originally published at Daily Science Fiction, is up at Toasted Cake! My second podcast. Enjoy!
Hey, so, I've read some interesting stuff in the bikeosphere this week, so how about I let other people do my work for me and just link to them? /lazy
First off, if you like bikes and you like comics and you like humor, you need to put Another Bike on your RSS feed, like, yesterday. Even if you only like one or two of those things, still read it. How can you not love a girl who treats her new bike to a bath by candlelight?
Credit to Lulu @ Another Bike
Second, Sam at Brown Girl in the Lane perfectly sums up how I often feel when I think about people I know taking preventable car trips (FYI, most car trips are preventable), and how hard it can be to support them in their decision:
When I see a friend is a car, I immediately think of studies I've read, about the toxins the very existence of car creates, about the number of lives lost....for no good reason. It is at times like this I wish I could get a lobotomy and just put myself out of this misery. I wish I could just forget everything I've read, everything I've seen, and everything I've smelled and just be happy and enjoy the fact that I'm lucky to live in a world where so many people are privileged to have such an abundance of luxury. [....] But I can't forget it, and I'm not being honest when I say that I can really, truly appreciate this gift.
Thirdical, a recent only-tangentially-related-to-bikes article at NY Times caught my eye: Keeping (Weaker) Eyes on the Road. Apparently, people seeking license renewal in New York will no longer have to take eye retests. I didn't know that any state required retests, so I did a little digging and found out that most states don't require a retest if you renew by mail (Maryland is one of the few exceptions, although you can have eyes as bad as 20/100 and still drive here with a doctor's note). I do sympathize with sucky-eyed folks who are in danger of losing their licenses, since I know first hand that not being able to drive and living somewhere that isn't transit or bike friendly is a major handicap when it comes to employment, social life, education... well, everything! It's incredibly isolating. However, that pain just doesn't compare to the thousands of people who die every year in car accidents, many of them caused by people who should not be driving. (P.S. I include myself in this. I don't believe my optometrist should have written me an exemption, because I don't believe there should be vision exemptions. I'm still planning on taking my driver's road test because I've put a lot of money into this thing, but I also think a truly safe driver vision policy would be one that excludes me and people whose eyes are even worse than mine. And I don't plan to actually drive.)
Who's that at the largest increase in the Northeast US? Why, it's my old hometown, Pittsburgh! And coming in at #2? You guessed it, Baltimore! As I've never ridden in any area other than Baltimore City and County, I don't know how our cycle facilities stack up against more world-class places like NYC or Boston. I do know, however, that in general I feel very, very safe riding in the city, and while I can imagine things being better (as can anyone who doesn't live in Amsterdam or Copenhagen), I'm ridiculously pleased with the amount of lanes and sharrows we have already. Also, 1% ride share seems kind of low, I'd say the ratio of bikes to cars is more like 1:20 or even 1:10 on the Avenue or around JHU. But if they're only counting people commuting to jobs, that changes things, I don't even commute to a job (because I don't yet have one).
Pittsburgh being at #1 is a surprise, because it's just so ridiculously hilly everywhere. You'd have to be pretty athletic already to tackle Pittsburgh as a transportation cyclist. I also don't remember many lanes, although I wasn't looking for them when I lived there. I'm going back in two weeks and I'll look for bike infrastructure then! I would definitely continue riding if I moved back to Pittsburgh, although I'd have to get a bike with more than seven speeds. More like thirty-seven.
The biggest increases, though, came from the Midwest, although the overall percentages there are pretty tiny, except for Minneapolis (which I gather is a lot like Portland, only with snow, so, worse than Portland). If you live in the Southeast or certain parts of the Southwest, sorry guys, better luck next time.
Yesterday afternoon as I was about to go out for my near-daily ride, I caught a commercial that didn't seem to be doing a very good job of telling we the audience what we're being sold. I quipped to Rob that "it's another hybrid car commercial" since earlier we had seen a puzzling hybrid car ad that involved a guy buying ice cream and getting dissed by a little kid. However, that's exactly what it turned out to be.
I don't need to explain why this is a terrible ad, although I will. First of all, holy nightmare fuel, Batman! Toyota's managed to come up with a monster even more terrifying than the Burger King, one which will subsume our own bodies into its lump of undifferentiated mass, only briefly allowing us to decouple so as to perform small tasks like squeezing toothpaste. You don't even know what product it's selling until most of the way through, by which point you're already so grossed out by this lurching golem that you probably don't even care. Yeah, car that plugs in, whatever. What happens when that thing goes to the bathroom?!
Also, this is the car they're selling:
They're on a family vacation in the formless void.
I mean, I'm sort of a car racist (they all look the same to me), but even I can see that this isn't exactly a "hot" car for "cool cats." It's practical, but that's about all it has going for it, and in a world where people depend on their consumer products to sell them not just a better product, but a better life, Prius just doesn't cut it.
Also, think for a second about the NAMES of hybrid cars. Prius. Volt. Yaris (car or birth control?). Fucking Leaf. With the possible exception of Volt, these don't sound like vehicles meant to tear up the pavement. They sound like some kid's science project. Maybe Europeans would buy a car called "Leaf," but 99% of Americans, Canadians, and Australians (i.e. the world's biggest per capita fuel hogs) will scoff at it and keep on looking for something that's cool. Like it or not, looks and names matter, and the majority of people from the individualist nations aren't going to buy something named after the photosynthesizing organ of a plant.
UNSEXY.
So, who are these ads meant to target? Certainly not the average American driver, who doesn't give a shit about fuel efficiency and is far more concerned about horsepower and carrying capacity. And not the true environmentalist or sustainable transportation buff, since they're already either riding bikes or taking public transportation as long as the location of their job allows it. (Newsflash: it's greener to buy a used car than a hybrid.*) And it's not meant for the cheap and/or poor, since hybrids are exponentially more expensive than standard cars, even used hybrids.
I can only think that they're targeting a very specific audience: upper-middle-class "environmentalists" who want the whole world to know how sustainable they are, but wouldn't be caught dead riding the bus because, well, ew. Essentially, the greenwashed. And that's a piss poor marketing strategy because outside of maybe Northern California, there just aren't that many people with the combination of tons of disposable income and the smug desire to do something to "help the planet" without doing something actually radical such as not driving.
I'm torn between wishing hybrid cars had a better marketing department and saying "well, at least if everyone keeps buying SUVs that will get rid of all that oil that much faster." I very much believe that the disconnectedness created by car culture is extremely damaging to society and that even if they could be made carbon-neutral (and that will never happen), cars are bad. It's not just about the carbon emissions or the smog they create or the fuel they waste, although that's a large part of it. So yeah, car companies, continue to mis-market your own product. It will just bring my car-free/lite utopia that much quicker.
But if I were writing ad copy for an electric hybrid car, it might go a little something like this:
Voiceover: "Hello, I'm Antonio Banderas."
He's got a little bit of a Tommy Wiseau thing going on here.
ANTONIO BANDERAS leaps into the driver's seat of a cherry-red electric hybrid convertible. On the seat next to him is a Zorro mask, a copy of Atlas Shrugged, and a taxidermied deer's head. He guns the engine, and with a mighty squeal the car--complete with fins and lighted rims--speeds down a canyon inexplicably studded with sexy nightclubs.
Antonio Banderas: "When I get out of the movie studio, I don't want to take time out of my busy schedule of ab crunches and photo ops to get gas every week, instead of every week and a half. That's why I drive the Chrysler Lightning. It'll really give you a charge." (Suggestive grin.)
ANTONIO BANDERAS pulls up to a red light. Next to him, in his own retro-styled hybrid car, is DON DRAPER.
Don Draper: "Remember, when you drive an electric car, you're really keeping a lot of emissions out of the air. That means you can smoke as much as you want." (Takes a puff.) "Ah, that's smooth."
Antonio Banderas: "My wife, MELANIE GRIFFITH, really likes the car too."
Don Draper: "Women can drive?"
They ride off into the sunset.
*When you consider the implications of the Jevons paradox, and that the mpg of a 2012 Prius is only around 42 highway/36 city (Rob's Hyundai gets 35 highway/25 city)... I'm not even convinced that a new fuel-efficient standard car is worse than a hybrid. I have personally experienced the truth of the Jevons paradox, as owning my bike (which certainly counts as an energy efficient vehicle compared to walking) makes me much more likely to leave the house and travel long distances for little or no reason at all ("hey, you need one thing from the store, well I guess I can go get it for you") that I never would have if I were on foot. Of course, the extra "emissions" generated by someone on a bike are tiny compared to the "emissions" I'd generate simply by sitting around at home expelling CO2 at a more leisurely rate. But if people are driving hybrids more just because they think they're greener--and there's no "if" about it--then hybrids may turn out to be more damaging to the environment than Hummers ever were. At least people know that Hummers are bad.
Read an interesting article by British environmentalist George Monbiot, about how the car is turning England into a nation of antisocial bastards. First, I love that you can use the word "bastard" in the headline of an editorial over there. But more importantly, he makes a lot of good points, and gets in some well-deserved cracks in at Americans and Australians. The article's from 2005, but as cars still exist, I think it's relevant. A quote:
"When you drive, society becomes an obstacle. Pedestrians, bicycles, traffic calming, speed limits, the law: all become a nuisance to be wished away. The more you drive, the more bloody-minded and individualistic you become."
I can say without a doubt that this is true for me. I've logged around forty hours in a car since getting my permit in January, and while it hasn't turned me into a Tea Partier, I have noticed subtle shifts in both my mood and attitude during and after driving. My fuse is shorter, and considering that it's already pretty short, that's saying A LOT. Extrapolating from this, I come to the conclusion that if I had to spend two hours in a car five days a week, I'd basically become a fire-breathing dragon.
Get out of my way, I'm a motorist!
In a car, you basically can live in a pod if you want to, shuttling from home to work and back on an interstate where you won't have to see another living soul other than yourself and the shadowy beings ensconced in their own pods. Never before in human history has it been so easy not to associate with people you don't choose to associate with, and at the risk of being controversial, I think that's a bad thing. When you don't know that people other than you and your immediate family exist, when they're only hypotheticals, it's easy to say things like "schools (other than my kid's school) are over-funded" or "Social Security doesn't help me, why should I pay for it?" Because you have less real-world experience. And sure, a commute is only a small fraction of one's day, and maybe not everyone feels as I do. For all I know, everyone else in a car is appreciating the full and rich humanity of every other human being on the road. But I am saying that I, personally, feel a lot more misanthropic (and keep in mind, I'm already pretty misanthropic) toward humanity after being in a car, and probably less inclined to support social programs to benefit those ants who dare to suck my mighty fumes.
I also feel less creative after I've taken a long drive or car ride. I'm one of those writers who needs to work over an idea ad infinitum in my head before I feel comfortable enough to write it for real. (Note: don't be this kind of writer if you can possibly avoid it! I'd be so, so much more prolific both blog-wise and fiction-wise if I could "write by the seat of my pants." Alas, I am and will always be a follower of the 99% inspiration, 1% perspiration philosophy.) And the one thing that makes me get into the groove of writing, aside from smoking which I no longer do, is physical activity. Either walking or cycling works, but cycling has the added benefit of getting me to my destination faster, and varying the sights I see along my journeys, which aids in my ability to put together my plots and rework my sentences over and over (and over (and over)) again. I don't know exactly why exercise works this way for me, but it does, and driving for me is like an anti-exercise, making me less able to think and write than I would have been if I'd just stayed home.
I thought these "quirks" were limited to me, a by-product of being an old (in relativistic terms) practically-non-driver who hates cars, and also of being a hot-tempered rage-face in general. Yet, I've been driven in cars with people who are normally very sweet-tempered and not normally prone to rages who get absolutely apoplectic when things slow down or pedestrians step in front of them or they are stuck behind a bike. I won't name names but think about who I ride with most often, heh. I don't think it's that far-fetched to speculate that the car has something to do with this Jekyll and Hyde transformation. And I also don't think the liberal vs. conservative/collectivist vs. individualist dichotomy is that far-fetched either. Perhaps someone in the liberal media should conduct a survey seeing if long car commutes correlate with conservatism on the political spectrum.
Some "foodie" named Mark Bittman wrote an article in the New York Times calling for the government (because we all know they don't have enough to do lately!) to levy sin taxes on pop and processed foods, the building blocks of the Standard American Diet. The way we eat makes him SAD. He proposes using this tax money to found a program to make healthy food more widely available and teach people how to cook it. Which is nice in theory, except that these things never work out as intended and that revenue will go where it always does, a tax cut for the top 10% of Americans.
The comparison to anti-tobacco programs is a shaky one at best. The link between smoking and cancer is direct; the link between obesity and diet, not so much. (Otherwise, I'd weigh four hundred pounds! Seriously, my diet sucks and I should probably do something about it eventually.) The link between obesity and ill health, again, there's a link but it's not a direct one in the way that smoking and cancer are directly linked. And fast food is still food, which is something you need to keep living. It's definitely not the best food, but nothing pisses me off quite as much as food fascists who smugly declare that Taco Bell isn't food.
But you know what's a better analogy? Driving. Just like eating, transportation is a necessity. And just like the government has subsidized corn and soybean manufacturers for more and for longer than we ever should have, it has also subsidized and bailed out oil companies and car makers. We've bent our infrastructure around the almighty car, just as much as we've bent our diet around what's cheapest and easiest. Just like some people in the inner city live in food deserts, people in Houston or South Podunk live in transportation deserts, wherein car-less transportation is only theoretically possible, forcing people to chain themselves to expensive, dangerous steel cages whether they want to or not. Even exercising can be impossible in those kind of places if you don't have access to a car. I grew up in a suburb/small town where there weren't even any sidewalks to walk or jog on, and where if you wanted to do some hardcore exercising, you had to join a gym, which required the cage! That's some vicious circle, dude, and it's no wonder that lots of people just stay home. They've spent too much time in the cage that day already.
And that's not even getting into the health effects of driving! Did you know that sitting will kill you? How about commuting? It seems to me that the car is at least as bad for you as fast food, and possibly worse. So why single out food?
In Why Your World Is About to Get a Whole Lot Smaller: Oil and the End of Globalization (which is awesome, by the way), Jeff Rubin talks extensively about the gross, egregious subsidies that our government uses to keep the price of oil lower than it has any right to be. He also talks about the sky-high subsidies that developing nations like India and China are giving their drivers as a way to usher them into modernity, even as the modern world is realizing that car culture is not long-term sustainable.
I picture a world in which Americans (and Canadians and Australians and Indians and the Chinese) are forced to pay the real cost for their oil, a cost which includes carbon offsets because that's an integral part of oil use. A world where "fitness" is not something you do after work or on your lunch break, because everything you do requires physical effort, whether you're walking to the store or biking to work. And although I'm not any kind of expert, I sorta think that emphasizing physical activity and making our communities a good place to walk and bike would do a hell of a lot more good for our collective physical and mental health than slapping French fries out of someone's hand, saying "no!," and telling them what they should be eating instead. (Fun fact: Poor people already know this. They are not dumb.)
And guess what? A society where people don't drive as much, and don't import as much food as they used to due to carbon taxes being taken seriously, is by necessity a locavore society except for the upper 10% of income earners who can afford to buy fancy imported Big Macs and Kobe beef. My dream of high carbon/oil taxes isn't too dissimilar from Bittman's dream of taxing "bad" foods, except that I'm cutting to the source of the problem, not the effect.
So, don't look down on me for eating poorly, and attempt to change my behavior, not unless you're prepared to turn the camera right back on yourself and admit that you, too, benefit from Standard American Transportation (SAT... this is also an apt acronym!). Fast food, and the people who enjoy it or who see it as a necessary evil due to living in food deserts, is an easy target. But make no mistake: what got us to this point is globalization and the deceptively cheap oil that makes it possible. Sin taxing fast food is a surface-level "fix" that allows foodies to sneer at fatties without doing anything to solve structural problems. Let he who is without sin cast the first, uh, tax.
I recently picked up a book that I bought many moons ago at a closing Borders entitled The Non-Cyclist's Guide to the Century and Other Road Races by Dawn Dais. In retrospect, I should have known that it wasn't going to be a book written for me due to the presence of the word "race" in the title, but the cover had a cute ladies' bike and it was only like eight bucks, so why not. In the process of flipping through it to discover whether I was going to read it cover to cover, it brought up a lot of feelings I have regarding cycling for sport; namely, why I don't do it.
I have nothing against people treating cycling as a sport per se. And in some respects, I treat it as one too: probably around half of my riding isn't strictly necessary, i.e. not a grocery run or a doctor's appointment or meetings with friends. Sometimes I travel to a further place instead of a closer one, sometimes I go out without any destination in mind at all. And yes, cycling is great exercise: pound for pound it's not as effective as running or swimming, but in my opinion it's way more fun than either of those things. Also, I have this weird mental block surrounding exercise where I don't want to do something unless it's in some way "practical," even if this practicality is a stretch. I can't exactly run to work or to a fancy dinner party, can I? I can't swim to Target! Yet I will happily bike six miles to a distant coffee shop instead of walking less than a mile to the closest one, because that's "practical." I am probably insane.
So, anyway, problems with athletic cycling--GO! First, there is the equipment. Some of the things Dais recommends as a "probably should have" are: cycling shorts (which can easily cost over $75 for one pair), special shoes, special gloves, and a whole lot of other stuff that seems to be obscenely overpriced. And, of course, a racing bike, some of which can easily cost a grand and up. Talk about your barriers to entry! Then there are the century races themselves, which usually cost money to enter, and are often held (at least, most races here in MD... not that I'm ready for a century but I've looked for others) at places I can't bike to, which is a no-go for me due to the irrational hang-up discussed in the last paragraph.
Another beef I have is that many (again I'm generalizing based on what I've read online and seen in person) athletes are terrified of riding with traffic. Simply terrified! And while I don't want to discount someone's fears, because lord knows I have my own, this is an attitude that I don't understand, especially when the athlete is also a driver. It's the same road, the same rules, except you're going much, much faster. If anything, driving should be the terrifying activity, and that's certainly how it feels for me. But take someone out of their giant tank, and they turn into a wuss. Just like a gun owner, the "weekend warrior" feels helpless without their weapon. And as someone who is endangered (both as a pedestrian and a cyclist) by cars, it is hard not to feel perturbed by this "roads are dangerous!" nonsense. Yes, they're dangerous--because of you!
Probably my main objection to sport cycling, though, is because these athletes by and large aren't doing anything to increase the accessibility of roads for those of us who use our bikes for transportation as well as to "feel the burn." In fact, some of them lobby against riding for transportation. How many times have you been flipped off or called a jackass by someone with bikes (usually much fancier and more expensive than your own bike) strapped to the back of their SUV? When I think "athlete cyclist," I think of folks like that, folks that will drive five miles to get to a nice safe path and think transportation riders are losers. This is probably definitely not a fair assumption to make, but it's the one I make.
In the end, I guess it's dumb to have an anti-sport cycling bias, as dumb as a driver in a Ford Focus hating someone in a Formula One racer for not caring about their needs. We are doing completely different things, the athletes and myself. But biking is marginalized in a way that driving will never be in America, so it's hard to not see athletic cyclists who drive short distances as part of the problem. Truthfully, I get angrier at them than at your average driver, because they have both the physical strength and the equipment to ride a bike for transportation and they... don't. So close, and yet so far.
First, a blog recommendation: Brown Girl in the Lane. I love this blog! Firstly, it's written by someone who like me doesn't ride a fancy road or Dutch bike. Nothing against those bikes but I'm doing just fine with my comfort hybrid right now, and while I do appreciate beautiful bikes, I don't have it in me to be a connoisseur. (I don't take care of my stuff well enough!) Second of all, San Diego's (lack of) urban design is roughly approximate to Baltimore County's mess of strip malls, nice residential neighborhoods separated by impassable gaps of 55 MPH highway, and malls with room for eight hundred cars and zero bike racks. It's a refreshing change from reading blogs from women (for whatever reason, almost every bikey blog I follow is written by a woman) in PDX or Boston or other super-friendly places. Not that I wouldn't prefer to live in those places myself! But most people don't, and if bicycle advocacy is ever going to get beyond the big hipster cities, people from other places (including the suburbs and rural areas) need to start talking too. Any recommendations for bikey blogs from non-city dwellers/non-bicycle meccas?
Now that our move into Baltimore City is not just a possibility but a definitive (I have no idea if I'm using that word correctly), I've lost most of my desire to get a driver's license. Oh, I'm still going to get it; I've already paid $350 for useless mandatory driver's ed classes from a total asswipe and that's not chump change. But all of the necessity is gone. Hopefully, I will get a job in the city (JHU is my main target) and be able to bike or walk both there and also to any social events I may want to attend. I never, as in do not ever, want to get a second car. Having one is bad enough. I guess having a license will be helpful on the remote chance that I am invited to a free money party in, oh, let's say Delaware and Rob is too zonked on cheap Sudafed to drive me there. But what's the chances of that happening in Delaware? Less likely than in some other places, I reckon, and probably not likely to happen at all.
More importantly, I never, as in do not ever, want to live outside of a city again. If I have learned nothing else from the past year of living in the suburbs (and I haven't!), it's that I can't deal with suburban living. It isn't just hipster dislike of big-box stores and nicely manicured lawns. It's that everything--everything--is built around the car. Distances that are normally nothing for me to walk or bike suddenly become impossible gaps. And the most depressing thing is that apparently nobody has a problem with this. Everyone accepts it as normal that you drive two miles to get to Target, and then drive four miles to get to a gym or bike trail to get exercise. Even before I moved to Pittsburgh, I never thought this was a healthy way to live, and my opinion really hasn't changed. In fact, I think it's become more extreme. Once I became used to city living in Pittsburgh, where almost everything was a walk or bus ride (even if it was sometimes a long one) away, I can't re-adjust to suburbia. And I think I'm okay with that.
I've been getting some Bulgarian spam on this blog lately, which probably means that it's time for an update, lest my fallow blog serve as a fertile crossroads for Balkan insurrectionists, counter-insurrectionists, counter-counter-insurrectionists, and people selling discount Tramadol at low low prices (protip: it's really Tums).
The week before last, Rob and I went to Virginia for our second anniversary. We started by going to some Civil War sites around Richmond, and then Richmond itself. As previously stated, Richmond is one of my favorite cities, but as I have already spoken of my love for it I don't need to talk about it again. AND THEN we drove down the Blue Ridge Parkway, which I had never been to. And it is fucking gorgeous.
Look at this fucking mountain.
I drove most of the way, and even though I hate driving, it was a good experience to have. Along the way, we passed a group of like thirty people on mountain bikes, which gave me the idea to bike on the Blue Ridge Parkway myself someday, although I probably won't be able to do it on a fifty-pound Raleigh comfort bike. But even through the windshield of a car, the majesty of the Blue Ridge shines through. It was like spending three or four hours in a postcard. And everyone we talked to along the way was really, really fucking nice, the kind of nice where you don't know if they are actually sincere. But they are. They do the same Pittsburgh "make a little bit of eye contact, wave and smile" thing that I've had to train myself out of doing here, because on the coasts eye contact is considered a threat resolvable only by mashing one's forehead into the aggressor, antelope-style. I don't think I realized how much a very slight amount of eye contact with strangers meant to me until I was back in the Appalachian corridor.
AND THEN we visited Roanoke, which is the most adorable city I have ever been to. Among the cute things we saw there:
One of Roanoke's many, many adorable storefronts.
• Tons and tons of old-timey advertisements, including an original Muffler Man, these giant coffee and Dr. Pepper ads on the top of buildings, and "gas" lamps lining the main downtown streets. Oh, and their buses look like old trolley cars. Even the chain restaurants and stores in town (and there aren't many, I only saw a defunct Subway) are made to look old-fashioned. And all these old-fashioned buildings are still functional. It's like stepping into a time machine, except the people aren't horrible, like real old-timey people are.
The only thing that would
make this better is a
squirrel in the saddle.
• Everything is themed around trains because Roanoke used to be an important railroading hub and even though it's not as important now we still saw at least 37 trains come through while we were there. Okay, more like five. But, still, more than you expect to see on a daily basis. Rob is a big railroad geek and even though I'm not as super into it I still thought all the train stuff was awesome. The trainy highlight was a visit to the Virginia Museum of Transportation, which houses over sixty old train engines, a few dozen cars, and three bikes!
• Bike riding is a thing there, which is surprising as Roanoke isn't that much bigger than Towson, but it's way less suburbanized and sprawley. There is even a Roanoke pedicab service. I saw over a dozen people on bikes while I was there, and since we were only in the town itself for like three hours... that is a lot. And even the bike-related stuff is cute; see the bike rack at right.
Roanoke is the kind of place I could see feeling comfortable in for a long time, and while I'm not about to up and move there (I can't imagine their employment situation is great), I felt instantly comfortable there, which is a lot more than I can say for Baltimore. It's no secret that I haven't been very happy here. Although, things might be changing for the better now that we're maybe definitely probably likely possibly moving to Hampden in August. I came to this we have to move NOW realization after my relaxing ride on Easter Monday afternoon turned into a near-disaster when a fratboy (who are to Towson as trains are to Roanoke -- huge, loud, and ubiquitous) reached out of his passenger-side window and grabbed my handlebars while his crony slammed on the horn. Even if it weren't for the hostility toward bikes, there would still be the un-walkability, the crush of chains (hey, I like Target as much as any Walmart-hating hypocrite, but not when it's the only place I can shop), the townies who don't like me* because they think I'm a student, the students I don't have anything in common with because I'm not one... the list goes on. I realize that I haven't really given Baltimore a chance because I don't LIVE in Baltimore. It's like living in Monroeville and hating on Pittsburgh; yeah, maybe you have a taste of what the city is like, but you don't really know, man. I doubt Baltimore will be our forever home, but maybe it can be more than our two-year home. And at least we'll have given it a fair shot.
* An example: I was riding in Rodgers Forge and this tiny shriveled-up white lady in a nightgown cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled "you don't live here!" It was actually kind of cute, but not as cute as Roanoke.
Don't worry, ma'am, that meth you ordered is right on schedule.
Although I am not one of those Watchmen-inspired real-life "superheroes" who dons a bright teal-and-silver spandex outfit and wreaks havoc on small-time drug lords, I have recently realized that I do, in fact, have a superpower. That is the power to walk a single mile. In Pittsburgh and other major cities, this superpower is less than impressive, as everyone can do it. But in suburbs and small towns, this becomes a mighty power indeed, something not shared by mere mortals who, apparently, would choose to drive the 5,280 feet (1,609.344 meters for my Canadian friends) to work if they were in my shoes.
For instance, I have recently had not one but TWO job interviews where my ability to walk to the interview site was not a brief sideline comment, but one of the main topics of discussion. People just can't believe that someone can walk that far! To be fair, some people can't walk that far, due to physical disabilities. But it's a little hard to believe that every person who has expressed incredulity at my ability to walk (and bike!) relatively tiny distances has an invisible disability. I guess I can chalk it up to the fact that, when you've never been without a car or driver's license (as, indeed, most people native to small towns/suburbia have not been, I am a unicorn), your judgment about whether things are walkable gets a little wonky. Will my judgment become similarly skewed when I get a license? Will I drive two miles to work, then drive five miles to a gym to ride a stationary bike? If so, I hope my death is swift, and its dealer just.
In other news, I recently got a new bike, and I'm kind of in love with it:
The best bike in the entire world. Much better than your bike.
It's a Raleigh Venture 4.0 ladies' cruiser bike, and the difference between this bike and the old department store bike is pretty much the difference between walking in good shoes versus walking in tissue boxes lined with steel wool and spiders. I am very, very happy with this bike. But, let's take a gander into the What-If Machine and see what other bikes I could have bought instead!
Nobody parties like a European!
1. Party Bike
First thought: Where do you attach the U-Lock?
Second thought: This would be an excellent bike to use if you want to recreate the "Friday" video. (Note: I first learned of this bike last week, when Rebecca Black was still relevant. Readers of the future, substitute your own meme!)
Third thought: Hey, is that guy in the bright blue shirt Tommy Wiseau's less talented younger brother?
2. Fixie
I don't even know what's going on here, but I know it can't be comfortable.
"Hey, guys, let's take a mode of transportation that already has some safety issues and remove most of the things that make it safe, like speeds and brakes! And let's not wear helmets, either!" Fixies are truly a method of natural selection for the white race*.
3. Tall bike
Yo dawg, I heard you like bikes, so I put a bike on your bike so you can fall over and die!
My first non-circus exposure to these was in the Portlandia "Dream of the Nineties" clip. I then learned that, yes, people (mostly in Portland, but a few other places too) DO ride these, and unlike penny farthings (which are still being made!) they don't even have antiquarian chic. I think tall bikes might actually edge out recumbent bikes as "dumbest bike idea ever," since there are legitimate disability-related reasons to ride recumbent bikes. Unless you're Robert Pershing Wadlow, leave the tall bikes for the dudes in Barnum and Bailey.
So, as you can see, it's quite fortuitous that I got the bike I did. Because it was clearly a decision between one of these three and my Raleigh.
*Interesting demographic note #1: At least 60% of the cyclists in Towson are black, and 100% of the people obviously engaging in utility cycling (as in, they have baskets or racks full of groceries or other items) are black (or will be until I get my basket). Sorta contradicts the "cycling is a white hipster activity" canard, although I think this is a demographic blip.
Interesting demographic note #2: 99% of the cyclists around here are guys. I get really happy when I see another woman on a bike, to the point that I will smile big and wave and probably lead her to think that I'm some kind of crazy person. Crazy about biking, that is!
Yesterday I took my new bike (yep, crap!bike finally died on me) out for what I thought would be a quick trip to Target, followed by a journey to yon distant Starbucks two and a half miles away, instead of my normal Starbucks that's only a ten minute trip. Because that's how one gets one's "kicks" here in suburban Maryland. But instead of a pleasant four mile or so round trip, it turned into a 10+ mile death ride ending with me staring down a four-lane highway, weak from hunger, pursued by demons. All because I can't read maps.
It started out as just wanting to extend the ride a little, because after leaving Target I wasn't quite ready to settle down for an afternoon of bloggin' and zinin'. So I decided to explore the residential area between Target and Starbucks. What could possibly go wrong? Unlike Pittsburgh, which based its street pattern on the Parisian catacombs, the roads in Maryland are usually quite straight and make more rational sense.
But "more rational" doesn't equal "can always find your way around, anywhere, anytime." Added to that, there's a trend here toward apartment and housing complexes based on brownstone styles, which can make the streets look really same-y. After about five minutes, I was lost. Ten minutes after that, I realized I was lost, and pulled out my smartphone.
The smartphone is one of those inventions that you don't know you need until you get one, at which point it seems impossible that you've ever lived your life without one. Like an mp3 player, or heroin. Sometimes I regret getting one because of how much it's tethered itself to me, but I would have had to get one eventually anyway. It's quite useful in situations like this, that is, unless your ability to read maps is severely compromised by a rare fake disorder I am going to tentatively call "dysgeographica," or the much more fun to say "dysmappia." Otherwise known as the inability to read a goddamn map.
You're no help.
I consulted Googlemaps and found that I only had to go back to the main road. So I did! And went the wrong way, which I didn't notice until I was approximately four miles farther away. Re-consult Googlemaps. Find that there's a side road that is safe to ride on (I always prefer to ride on the road instead of the sidewalk) that hooks up with the main road that will get me home. Alright! Go the wrong way again, approximately five miles away now. Third opinion! You... can fill in the gaps from here. Somehow I wound up getting seven or eight miles from home, staring down that aforementioned highway. And I couldn't even get home under my own steam, because I'd only eaten a single bowl of Coco Wheats for breakfast, believing that I'd get calories at Starbucks and that I'd only have to ride four miles that day. Luckily, my long-suffering husband Rob drove to my give-up point and picked me up, which let's face it, is a massive humiliation. Especially as he has the directional sense of a homing pigeon and can't understand how I could consult my smartphone not just once, but over six separate times, and still get lost.
But my ability to get lost is both legendary and pervasive. I even got lost in my old neighborhood in Pittsburgh, and as humiliating as having to get picked up after a failed bike excursion is, it pales in comparison to being forced to call your husband to figure out how to get home when you're less than a mile away. Usually it takes me at least two years of living in a place before I figure out how to not get lost so much, but there's no guarantee that I won't ever get lost. I also have a much harder time in suburbia and small towns vs. big cities, I think because what little navigation I can manage is all based on landmarks, and there's more landmarks in a city.
When it comes to maps, though, I don't even fucking know, man. To me, a map makes as much sense as one of those fake equations that take up an entire chalkboard in movies when you want to show that the protagonist is some kind of crazy genius. On a map, everything is the Parisian catacombs. And because it's easy, both on a bike and on foot, to kind of zone out and not pay a lot of attention to where you're going, it's easy to take a few wrong turns and wind up next to the pile of skulls with a rat coming out of every eyehole. Metaphorically speaking. I will say that the ride itself, though longer than expected and without the intended outcome, was quite enjoyable up to the last half hour or so.
And I really don't know how I'm going to deal with driving when I don't have a co-pilot/navigator, because there's nothing that looks quite as same-y as highways. Guess I'll have to make sure my smartphone (whatever good THAT does) is always charged and accept that I'll probably waste a lot of gas and time.
Sometimes I find myself with the need for a product that, due to my admittedly limited engineering skills, I am unable to build for myself. So if you're a DIY go-getter with time to spare, or a business contact with money to burn, consider funding this project which will enhance the state of discourse for years to come.
This product is a handheld record scratch sound effect.
Hop to it, science.
Dear potential collaborator/investor: how many times does this happen to you? You're minding your own business at your driving school classes, because due to various life circumstances and neurological difficulties you haven't gotten your license until the advanced age of 29 and that is nothing to be ashamed of or so they say. You're talking about reasons why teenagers shouldn't drink, and even though you've been able to drink for eight years and you're basically a teetotaler, you're still paying attention because your state is wackyface and you need to complete teenager-geared driving school in order to get a license. And all of a sudden, your driving instructor pops up with this gem of an anecdote:
"So there's this lacrosse player, played for Name Redacted High School*, and he went to this party and had too much to drink. And he ran into his ex! And they went back to his apartment, and they had even more to drink, and the next morning she goes and calls up the cops and says he raped her! I mean can you believe it?! But it's okay, he got off, but something like this can mess up your future, kids. So don't drink!"
Now, this is the kind of base dickery that a well-timed smack on the desk or a walk-out is generally used for. However, I don't think that these low-tech solutions really make one's opposition clear, at least, not in the same way as a blast from one's handheld record scratch sound effect, which I am tentatively christening DJ Objectatron 9000 for convenience's sake, but I'm sure that whatever marketing firm we decide to go with can find a better name. The DJ Objectatron 9000 is obviously well suited for a crowd or classroom situation. But it can also prove useful in tete a tetes! Observe, what happens in a conversation between a hypothetical driving school pupil and her deskmate:
Deskmate: (some high school drama that our hypothetical 29-year-old heroine couldn't care less about) HDSP: Mm-hmm. Deskmate: And you know, there's a lot of fights at my school, because there's a lot of black kids that go there.
Awkward! While this is a situation that strongly benefits from a smartphone near at hand, it is a situation that would benefit even more by the quick application of DJ Objectatron 9000, dialed to a lower volume. The objection is made clear to everyone, the situation is defused, and one would not have to pretend to be really interested in the apps on one's smartphone for the next ten minutes. Because every product eventually has to have an upgrade, there is also an optional two-button DJ Objectatron 9000, for when a slightly different flavor of sarcastic disapproval is needed. This is a button on the opposite side of the device, keyed to say the phrase "Say what?" This is ideal for situations where you're not so much halted in your tracks with a horrible statement, but more to point out crass hypocrisy in action. Allow me to demonstrate with another statement from a hypothetical driving school instructor who is by the way not hypothetical AT ALL:
"Now, when you go out you need to know your limit. I know that I can drink four beers and be under the legal limit, just under that limit, but you don't know how much alcohol you need to drink to get at that limit. Now let's watch this film about a girl who ran over her best friend after drinking one beer."
At this point, a quick toot of the "Say what?" button does the trick, even if the offender does not respond. Your point is made, which it might not be if you were to respond orally, since at this point he's already made the rape statement and you're apoplectic with rage and you know that if you open your mouth, what comes out will probably get you arrested.
So, my potential investor and/or collaborator, I'm sure you can see the great benefit that comes with investing in DJ Objectatron 9000 (and I am so not married to that name). Feel free to contact me on my Twitter feed. I think this could be a lucrative business opportunity for us all.
As I've pointed out many times before, Maryland has an exceptionally tough set of hurdles you have to jump in order to get your license. You have to wait nine months after getting your permit before you can take the driver's exam, regardless of age (which means I may not be able to get a job for the entire year of 2011). And everyone has to take driver's ed, also regardless of age. Which means that I must spend thirty-six hours learning and growing as a motorist with people who were born after the death of Kurt Cobain.
It's probably going to be the most humbling/embarrassing experience of my entire life.
Anyway, it's me, six high-school-aged girls, and one high-school-aged boy. (I know they are all in high school because the instructor went around and had us introduce ourselves by name and school. "Hi, I'm Erica, I was born in Ronald Reagan's first term.") First, we watched a videotape (yes, VHS, and I'm guessing that only me and the instructor know how to even operate a VCR) called STREET SMART. The letters were formed out of actual streets, which is the kind of thing I find hilarious. In STREET SMART, a "guardian angel" dressed like Kid and/or Play counseled a number of rich white kids about staying cool on the road, paying attention, etc. while they huffed about and looked bored. At one point, one of the teenagers whined to his father that he didn't want to pay a toll because he's saving up for a Walkman. I wanted to pipe up and say "that's an iPod for my generation, kids. Also, did you know that stamps used to cost thirty cents? We used them to send this stuff called mail, which is like an e-mail, except you can hold it in your hand! Oh, what golden days those were."
During the break, one of the girls started talking to me, unaware that I am a few short months away from the big 3-0. I told her that I'm "way out of high school, but thanks for the compliment," and was then immediately mortified because wow, isn't being pleased that you look younger than you actually are something that old, vain women do? The kind of women who go to the bar at Red Lobster in dim lighting hoping to be carded, and then they ARE carded, but only because the waitstaff aren't dummies and know they'll get a better tip? The kind of women who self-identify as cougars? Just call me Blanche Devereaux.
After the break, we watched a less-hilarious videotape about teen driving deaths, which are the basis behind MD's draconian permit laws, and I was again reminded of how ill-equipped most states are to handle us elderly "rookie drivers." It's not that I think they should cut me some slack just because of my age... no actually I DO think exactly that. But the examples both the teacher and the video used were setting me up for this revelation: all these cautions about not driving after midnight to parties don't mean much when you're a boring married almost-thirtysomething, let alone "cruising at the mall" or playing "chicken." I may be less mature than most people my age (judging by how hard I laughed at a roller derby player with the name "Jenn Italia" at the match last week), but the days when I could be a demon behind the wheel are far behind me, and it's sort of frustrating to have to go through the same lectures as if my life experiences don't color my attitudes toward driving and as if I need the same amount/type of guidance as a teenager. I may only have a permit, I may still look like I'm in high school, but I can buy a Lobstertini without a fake ID, dammit!
I sort of think that there needs to be a driving-instruction videotape geared to the 25-and-older set, STREET SMARTER (the logo is also made out of streets except they are worn down and broken in parts, because they are older!). It could cover such topics as:
● how to cleverly conceal your lack of a driver's license from potential employers!
● how to structure your entire life around your deficits!
● In the movie Inception, why didn't Fischer recognize the people around him on the plane after he woke up? Why didn't Saito just buy Fischer's corporation, or have Fischer killed? Why didn't the free-fall gravity affect the people in the snow dream? And why couldn't Leonardo DiCaprio just fly his kids to France instead of hatching a complicated reality-bending scheme to get back into America?
● If a man on steroids dressed in a shark suit fought a sick gorilla dressed in a bear suit on the moon, who would win?
● and many more!
It can even be a cautionary tale for those fresh-faced new drivers born during the awful aughts: don't be like us! Get it while you're young! Otherwise, you're going to have to sit in a class with people twelve years younger than you who listen to their music on hyperboxes surgically implanted into their skulls and are ruled over by a wise android known as Benevolentus XII, who is definitely not a human killer. No sirree Bob.
Last week I finally got my driver's permit. Well, my third driver's permit. Ten and seven years ago, I had one, but managed to fail every one of my road tests, due to a combination of poor attention, poor vision, and poor instruction (note to new drivers: you should be the most nervous person in the car, not your teacher). It was a bit of a struggle to even get a permit this time, since my right eye is so bad that I had to get a note from an optometrist saying that I am okay to drive, even though I am functionally as one-eyed as a one-eyed cat in a pretty pink sweater. This necessitated getting a new optometrist here in Maryland, which frankly I wouldn't have done until I lost a contact because I am super-lazy about my health.
I expected more static about my age than I actually got, although I did get some static re: my optometrist's form, since the little old lady behind the counter hadn't ever seen one before and had to make sure it exempted me from the vision test I'd already flunked a month ago. After the knowledge test (which I shouldn't have studied so hard for as it was well and truly nothing) and some paperwork, I was in! I'm a (trainee) driver!
When I left the MVA I was practically quivering with excitement, clutching my brand-new learner's permit, the photo of which makes me look like a mushroom. I sent the message out to all the Interwebs, as is the style at the time. Perhaps this makes me seem like a sell-out to the various punks and zinesters who possibly read this blog, but I am VERY excited about getting my license. I didn't feel any stigma about not having one when I lived in Pittsburgh for the last five years, but since I moved to semi-suburban Baltimore County (and especially before I moved to Pittsburgh, when I lived in a town of less than 2000 people), I've been feeling, well, kind of useless. I can't seem to land a job, since a lot of the retail stores want someone who can commute to different store locations if need be, and I'm restricted to what I can get to on the bus line. (And while there is bus service in the county, it's about as sparse as it is for Pittsburgh suburbs that don't get T service... rather spotty.) Not having a license also makes my eventual goal of getting a nursing degree less likely, since what are the chances that I'm going to get a medical job within walking or biking distance of me? Not very good! I am sure there are also people who would also call me a sell-out for desiring a 9-5, five days a week lifestyle (although, as I'd rather work part time unless it's a "career" job, I guess that's more of a 10-4 three days a week type of lifestyle)... but I need structure like the desert needs the rain, I desire financial independence even though I'm married, and ever since sorting out the situation with my "meth," I've realized that having a job will not necessarily mean a complete shutdown in all other areas of my life, and that I have the power to keep a job for longer than six months. I also would like to be able to go to shows, visit friends in other cities, etc., without having to bug/drag along the resident driver of the house. Even if he's game, there's still things I'd rather do on my own. At this point my freedom means more to me than any possible ecological damage. Can I stop justifying this or should I go another 400 words?
In short, I am now ready for adulthood to begin. But I need the requisite laminated card, which is a driver's license!
So far I've been out three times, and I've found the process a lot easier than it used to be. Normally the view from the driver's seat looks a lot like this:
This time around, though, I'm paying attention to a good 90% of what's on the road. There are still some issues with speed (namely, not enough speed) and turning etiquette, but it's not nearly as bad as when I would stop driving whenever I got confused or distracted by something on the road. I haven't run over any traffic islands... yet. And according to my "driving mentor," I rate a solid nine stars on a scale of eight to ten stars.
Maryland requires a lot from their "rookie drivers." Everyone has to take driver's ed, regardless of age or driving history. So I put in a $200 deposit on driving classes, which are going to cost almost half a grand all told. The classes are being taught by a Mr. "Wigs" (quotation marks theirs), who is either a) a man named Wigzienewski or b) a man whose last name is actually Wigs, and he's balding, but nobody wants to tell him that his toupee really stinks, and he also doesn't understand sarcasm quotation marks, because maybe he's slightly socially maladjusted and never really got subtle social clues? So someone (perhaps a temp desperate for approval) comes up with the idea of printing his name as Mr. "Wigs" in the brochure and everyone at the driving school is snickering at him, and poor Mr. Wigs can't understand why, puzzling it out at night over his sad TV dinner, brushing his sad little toupee. For shame, driving school brochure typographer. For shame.
My computer has been broken for the past two weeks, which is why I haven't been posting here, or on my "real" Livejournal blog. Rob's computer doesn't have the same graphics software that mine does, so I can't draw the comics that I've been planning to post here or the new header for my distro site. My Corel Painter disc is around here somewhere, but damned if I can find it... and my computer will be back soon enough anyway (I hope!).
Last week I studied for my driver's license permit test. It was not so great. I'm a person who learns more by doing things than reading about things, and the driver's manuals are not interesting reading in the least. Kinda dry actually. I read through parts of them (especially the parts about turning) several times, and I still think they could have done with a few more illustrations. Or maybe a narrative. "The Maryland Department of Transportation Presents: Learning to Drive: Starring Captain Caution and the Stop Sign Kid: A Graphic Novel."
Anyway, Maryland's DMV has a section where you can take practice tests comprised of questions from the real knowledge tests. I set a benchmark for myself: if I could take four perfect tests in a row, I am prepared to take the test. (I don't know why it's four, it just is.) The site said that if you had read the driver's manuals, you would be well prepared to take the test.
Not really! Maybe it would, if the questions themselves weren't so confusing. Like this:
Q: What is the best way to avoid an accident?
A. Search ahead for hazards. B. Keep your eyes on the road. C. Take a swig of your beer, it will help you concentrate.
It seems that B would imply A; however, after taking the test a few more times and memorizing the answers, A was the right choice. And there were several questions like that, where it could have easily gone one of two ways. So I wound up failing most of the practice tests, which sent me into a tailspin of self-recrimination because oh my god am I really this dumb? and well I am a 29-year-old taking a driver's license permit test WTF is wrong with me?? and I will never be a real adult. And then making plans to move to Montana long enough to secure residency because they have the most relaxed driving test in the country. You just have to, like, back out of someone's driveway and you pass. Or so I've heard.
I'd planned to take the test yesterday, but the poor test results made that seem impossible. So yesterday instead I took some more practice tests and... I passed. Several times in fact, although I didn't get 20/20 four times in a row. Now I'm shooting for next Thursday as the "big day." I still have a long way to go to get a driver's license (60 hours in a car with someone, classes, and passing the practical test), but the permit is the first step toward showing that I'm serious about driving and thus real adulthood. It's important to me to get this license before I'm 30. Mostly because, as weird as I feel about taking a permit test when I'm 29, and being in classes with people a decade younger than me, it's going to be that much stranger if I'm 30 and doing those things.
Otherwise, I've been spending this week putting up roughly a quadrillion auctions on Ebay and decorating for Xmas, normally my most-loathed of all holidays, but I put up some decorations anyway. I've also been watching first- and second-season episodes of Sliders on DVD, which was my favorite show in junior high, but lost me when it stopped being an alternate history show and turned into Farscape. This is an example of how weirdly uneven my SF fandom is: despite reading/writing a lot of SF (although less now than in the past), I watch almost no sci-fi TV shows, and in general I don't like science fiction movies. There are some exceptions, like the aforementioned Sliders (although I don't think I'd have watched it if it had premiered even two years later), and original Star Trek. Oh, and Lost, which I watched in its entirety over the past few months and have mixed (but generally positive) feelings about. I didn't even see Star Wars until I was 21. I think part of this is that like a lot of girls, I didn't spend my childhood watching those things and pretending to be Luke Jaywalker or whatever with plastic light swords, so when I watch them as an objective adult, I can only see the rubber alien masks and ho-hum, standard Hero's Journey storyline. Watching these Sliders episodes supports this theory, because even though I can see how objectively awful the show is, it's still enjoyable to me.
Or maybe other adults don't see Star Wars et al as objectively-awful-yet-enjoyable. Maybe I am just a jerk who is totally making fun of something you hold near and dear to your heart! Deal with it, nerds!!
