One less car.

I sold my car.

Holy crap.

One less car. Bring on the winter bike commutes.

The wind was blowing so hard last night. I was doing 12 mph forward and 6 mph sideways all at the same time. Spent most of the time down in the drops just trying to keep a low profile.

Enter the Ninja

Summary: Carry lots of cheapo little lights to give away to people who don't have them. In doing so you will be making the streets safer, one bike at a time.

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As defined in the Velosopedia

bike ninja: noun. A scofflaw cyclist that wears dark clothing at night with no reflectors or lights. They tend to ride erratically and in a way that they suppose avoids getting in the way of automobiles. By being unable or unwilling to put lights on their bicycle, they enshroud themselves in a ninja-like shroud of invisibility, endangering themselves and everybody around them.

Bike Ninjas are the natural enemy of the Bike Pirates.

Bike ninjas are obviously awful and dangerous. I saw at least two this evening, and it was way dark, and it aggravates the ble-blu-bah-jesus out of me. You can get your basic blinking safety light for less than five dollars. My new non-profit is going to be called Bike Pirates. (Pirates because of their natural aversion to ninjas.) The aim of this project/group will be to obtain cheap lights and distribute them freely to cyclists who obviously need them.

Kind of like that student organization that handed out free condoms at the senior prom, except it will be easier to tell which bikers are not lit up than it is to tell which teenagers are probably going to be giving it up.

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Park Hill's own bicycle collective, the Bike Depot, purportedly keeps boxes of red blinky lights to give away for cheap or for free.

Truly, they are kindred spirits, and honorary Pirates.

Winter time perma-dusk

The days are getting shorter.

I think every commute I've made recently has been either in Near Dark, Mostly Dark, or All Dark.

The abundance of this inky black cover, of course, means plenty more ninjas. I saw one tonight cruising through City Park: no lights, no helmet, no hands. Sitting straight up, looking the world straight in the eye, and just begging to be mowed down.

What a maroon.

On a different note, but related to lighting, when I see another well-lit cyclist (read: fellow pirate) coming at me down the path, I usually slip a few fingers over my lamp so I don't blind the poor guy. Not enough to douse the thing, rendering me invisible (read: dirty ninja), but enough so that he isn't shocked and awed by my passing.

I have yet to have this courtesy extended to me in return.

It's like driving down the road with your high-beams on, folks. Dim your lights for oncoming cyclists on those narrow bike paths. It's just the nice thing to do.

Halloween!

Here's a map post.


View Larger Map

When insects attack

Yet another reason that I will continue to always wear my helmet, even on the comparatively “safe” bike path: a grasshopper, mid-flight, crashed into my face and got stuck in my beard.

I freaked out so hard. Went into the Death Wobbles and nearly dumped over before recovering.

I don't like the idea of my head bouncing off the cement because of a bug.