For Christmas, I was given the stellar match-up of the iRiver iFP-899 MP3 player and Shure's exceptional e2C earbuds. The earbuds are the noise isolating variety, which means they block out the sound instead of employing some weird technology to try to cover it up electronically.
Well, they work, and they sound incredible. I wanted an MP3 player so I could fill up the time I spend walking and riding the bus with music, news and information, since I get sick reading and moving at the same time. Trying it out for the first time today, I'm not so sure it is for me.
I immediately realized what I was missing and felt like that isolationist "look straight ahead and aknowledge nobody" guy you see wandering around with a scared look on his face. While only about half of bus stop waits result in conversations with the other riders, jamming the phones in my ears gave the clear signal that I didn't want to talk. I completely lost that opportunity. While such things are usually idle small talk, I've often had some nice chats.
Getting on the bus, I felt compelled to pop the buds out to greet the driver. I always go out of the way to be nice to drivers. If I said something, I'd have no concept of how loud it was with the phones in my ears.
Conversations on the bus? Nada. I couldn't hear a thing, so no more amusement from the random stuff on the bus. Sure, 70% of the time the bus is people sitting quietly, but I'll miss the exceptions.
This is going to take some getting used to. I'm most certainly going to use it in moderation. The music from the combo of these top notch trinkets can't always top the sounds of the experience I call "going home".
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Desperate Measures...
With a day to go before departure to the homeland and no gifts for my brother or parents, I'm about to do the unthinkable. I'm about to journey to the car, ensure it is still there, hope it starts and drive it... yes, drive it... to the Northland to finish my Christmas shopping in the land of the big boxes. I'll be driving it home anyway, so I figure the damage is done.
Being car free is easy, but it takes planning when it comes to things like Christmas shopping. I didn't plan. Next year, I will extend my carlessness into one of its final frontiers. This year, I have to get it done.
Being car free is easy, but it takes planning when it comes to things like Christmas shopping. I didn't plan. Next year, I will extend my carlessness into one of its final frontiers. This year, I have to get it done.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Death Sucks II
Robert Osborn was a local cyclist that lost his life while riding home from his night shift at a local grocery store. While hostility towards bikes isn't unheard of, we now know that Robert was simply a victim of bad luck. Two young men were joyriding and looking to perform a thrill killing. After missing two other potential victims with their shotgun, they circled back to Robert and ambushed him from behind a tree.
On Sunday morning, I rode out to a vigil and bike ride in honor of Robert, where I was interviewed by a local news station. Riding along Robert's commute route, we slowed to a stop next to the very tree that hid his killers.
The killers are behind bars. That is all that I ask to happen. The greater hope I have is that this sustained unity among those of us that ride and share Robert's vision for a better world and alternative transportation are given a new sense of urgency to keep it alive. Lets replace what we lost in Robert with a little bit of renewed energy in all of us.
On Sunday morning, I rode out to a vigil and bike ride in honor of Robert, where I was interviewed by a local news station. Riding along Robert's commute route, we slowed to a stop next to the very tree that hid his killers.
The killers are behind bars. That is all that I ask to happen. The greater hope I have is that this sustained unity among those of us that ride and share Robert's vision for a better world and alternative transportation are given a new sense of urgency to keep it alive. Lets replace what we lost in Robert with a little bit of renewed energy in all of us.
Death Sucks
Last night, we learned that Stanley Williams died because the collective people of California thought he should. Well, the government of the people of California, acting in their behalf. A man who contributed more to society than most of the schmucks I met everyday with his messages against gang violence is dead. A voice of authority on the topic that stood a chance of reaching someone? Dead.
Okay, so, now we're better off to have this scum dead, right? Every argument I hear in support of the death penalty seems more and more absurd each time. Are we safer now that a man that was doing all he could to combat crime behind bars is dead? Did he deserve it? That isn't justice, that is revenge. We're a sick, sick society -- is it any wonder we have some crime problems?
...and what if we're wrong? To what clemency board do we appeal?
Okay, so, now we're better off to have this scum dead, right? Every argument I hear in support of the death penalty seems more and more absurd each time. Are we safer now that a man that was doing all he could to combat crime behind bars is dead? Did he deserve it? That isn't justice, that is revenge. We're a sick, sick society -- is it any wonder we have some crime problems?
...and what if we're wrong? To what clemency board do we appeal?
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
The Christmas Bus
The Christmas Bus
Originally uploaded by staubio.
I'd seen it pass by and I had heard of it from other riders, but today was my first time on the Christmas bus. Garland running down each side and a faux-fireplace in the back, complete with gifts on the mantle. They have Christmas lights as well, but I think they irritated the bus a bit as its external signage is dead and the gps isn't picking up the bus.
Alas, without seeing the lights on, I have not experienced the true Christmas MAX. The pursuit continues.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
A Round-about Way to Poverty
Having tired of the mostly pointless evening trips to the dead side of downtown on the MAX bus, I decided to sprint after the Casino Cruiser bus last night and give it a try.
Though it was a nice change of scenery, it wasn't any faster. It does its own dance around town, going a few blocks out of its way just to make sure it passes in front of all of the major downtown tourist hotels. I suppose it aims to be a casino shuttle, so this is acceptable.
Sadly, the only people that could have been anything close to tourists was the old couple that couldn't operate the fare box. The rest of the bus was a rag-tag gang that just looked to be riding along.
I always figured that this route served a lot of the workers that kept the casinos running. After listening to some of the conversations, however, it became clear to me that a lot of these people knew each other and a lot of them were going to gamble.
Nobody was at the hotels. The bus filled up at the transfer points from poorer areas of the city. At 10th and Main, a man got on and was recognized by several people who said they had missed him. "I had to give it up for awhile," he said, and he was clearly excited to be back on the road to rock bottom.
This bus is always full. Should the ATA continue to masquerade it as a tourist shuttle or should it start running down Brooklyn, making sure what little money is left in these impoverished neighborhoods is delivered to casino operators as soon as possible?
I don't fault the ATA for operating the route. I am sure I will use it at some point. It is a sad thing to see on your commute home, though.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
The Front Door
As I walked into work this morning, the security guard wished me a good morning as I walked by, as she usually does. She acted as if she knew me, which I thought was cute. Of the thousands of people that work in the building, she couldn't possibly actually remember me every day. She is just being polite, I'm sure.
Then it occurred to me.
I'm probably one of only a few people that actually enter the building through the front door. The vast majority of people drive into the garage and then enter the building through the parking structure from below. I walk right in the front door, which is usually reserved for smoking breaks and lunch walks to Union Station.
As someone that travels almost exclusively on foot, by bike and via transit, I always get to use the front door -- a concept that has almost become a novelty. I get to experience all sorts of things that other people don't, like the near-monopoly I have on the morning greetings of the security guard. I understand the context and the interconnectedness of the neighborhoods I frequent. I see the world -- a world that is increasingly fashioned so people can spend as little time as possible outside of their car or home.
From the street, everything is better. I pass storefronts to enter Coffee Girls from Southwest Boulevard, not from the parking lot behind it. I hop off the bus to enter Dragonfly from its pleasant frontage, which is good for more than just decoration, as opposed to the back lot passageway. I walk right in the front door of Lulu's instead of the little ramp in the back, facing the parking. I didn't even know that Harling's had a back entrance until recently, effectively hiding all of the activity from Main and funneling the patrons to their cars out back.
Most people don't choose to experience the world like this, which might explain why I get so much more excited about the built environment. Most people don't even notice that friendly security guard, either.
The front door is reserved for the distinguished guests and, in getting to see the world so much more vividly than those who drove up to the back entrance, I feel like one.
Then it occurred to me.
I'm probably one of only a few people that actually enter the building through the front door. The vast majority of people drive into the garage and then enter the building through the parking structure from below. I walk right in the front door, which is usually reserved for smoking breaks and lunch walks to Union Station.
As someone that travels almost exclusively on foot, by bike and via transit, I always get to use the front door -- a concept that has almost become a novelty. I get to experience all sorts of things that other people don't, like the near-monopoly I have on the morning greetings of the security guard. I understand the context and the interconnectedness of the neighborhoods I frequent. I see the world -- a world that is increasingly fashioned so people can spend as little time as possible outside of their car or home.
From the street, everything is better. I pass storefronts to enter Coffee Girls from Southwest Boulevard, not from the parking lot behind it. I hop off the bus to enter Dragonfly from its pleasant frontage, which is good for more than just decoration, as opposed to the back lot passageway. I walk right in the front door of Lulu's instead of the little ramp in the back, facing the parking. I didn't even know that Harling's had a back entrance until recently, effectively hiding all of the activity from Main and funneling the patrons to their cars out back.
Most people don't choose to experience the world like this, which might explain why I get so much more excited about the built environment. Most people don't even notice that friendly security guard, either.
The front door is reserved for the distinguished guests and, in getting to see the world so much more vividly than those who drove up to the back entrance, I feel like one.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Corner Restaurant Redeemed
The aptly named Corner Restaurant, overlooking the intersection of Broadway and Westport, was on the verge of being dropped off the bottom of my coveted breakfast destination list. Formerly a favorite with its unique mixture of customers and servers, tacky outdated decor and hip urban location, it would be sad to not have the experience.
On the last visit, what is typically an always-hot bottomless cup of coffee sat with a few bits of coffee grounds at the bottom. Empty. The pancakes were grainy. In the last two visits, they were always out of bananas, which were essential for my favorite pancake. Our traditional server, Janette, an oddly dressed bra-less counter-culture hipster looking young lady that was had the attitude and service ethic that matched the location, was nowhere to be seen. In her place was a stoned out, inattentive girl that scarcely noticed our presence.
So, no refills, no service, bad food. When a guy lives in the best breakfast neighborhood in the world in the River Market (The Diner, Succotash, Cup and Saucer, Cascone's), making a trip to Westport for a lackluster experience just doesn't compute.
Sunday morning was the "last chance" breakfast.
Our server was someone I recall seeing as a bus boy and he handled the promotion well. Not only was he back 3 times to top off the coffee, but the other servers and bussers were armed with carafes of tasty goodness as well. I think I still have a caffeine high from that morning. They had bananas. The pancakes were good. The crowd was a little strange, a little hippy, a little blue collar, a little white collar, a little retiree, a little bum.
Corner Restaurant is redeemed. I tipped heavily and left them on the breakfast list. Don't let me down again, Corner.
Christmas Off Target?
When discussing Christmas shopping with my mother over the Thanksgiving holiday, a little spat ensued when I learned that she is boycotting Target because of an e-mail she received. Countless people get these forwarded messages, many of which are bogus. Snopes does a good job demystifying these things, as they did for this issue.
It seems Target has ceased to use the word "Christmas" in their promotional materials in favor of recognizing the "holiday." Last time I checked, everyone was bemoaning the overly commercial nature of the Christmas holiday. Now that Target isn't playing the word "Christmas," people are angry about that. If they just totally ignored the holiday season entirely, would that be a good thing or a bad thing?
I find it frightening that the religious crowd never circulates an e-mail of outrage over the gross injustices in the world but calls for a boycott over what a store decides to put in their sales circular.
Target's line? It makes sense. They don't want to alienate. They want to allow everyone to celebrate in their own way. Kwanza, Hanukkah, Solstice? Come on in! It is a pretty weak Christian that thinks that Target has any impact on how they enjoy the holiday, or that the presence of the word "Christmas" is somehow going to change the minds of the general public.
Target also faced some heat for not compromising their solicitation policy to allow Salvation Army bell ringers outside their doors. What many fail to realize is that allowing Salvation Army to place solicitors outside of the store makes the company's stance against this type of behavior essentially meaningless. What kind of heat will the company face when another charity wants to do the same thing?
Good for Target, I say. God bless them.
It seems Target has ceased to use the word "Christmas" in their promotional materials in favor of recognizing the "holiday." Last time I checked, everyone was bemoaning the overly commercial nature of the Christmas holiday. Now that Target isn't playing the word "Christmas," people are angry about that. If they just totally ignored the holiday season entirely, would that be a good thing or a bad thing?
I find it frightening that the religious crowd never circulates an e-mail of outrage over the gross injustices in the world but calls for a boycott over what a store decides to put in their sales circular.
Target's line? It makes sense. They don't want to alienate. They want to allow everyone to celebrate in their own way. Kwanza, Hanukkah, Solstice? Come on in! It is a pretty weak Christian that thinks that Target has any impact on how they enjoy the holiday, or that the presence of the word "Christmas" is somehow going to change the minds of the general public.
Target also faced some heat for not compromising their solicitation policy to allow Salvation Army bell ringers outside their doors. What many fail to realize is that allowing Salvation Army to place solicitors outside of the store makes the company's stance against this type of behavior essentially meaningless. What kind of heat will the company face when another charity wants to do the same thing?
Good for Target, I say. God bless them.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Standing Room Only
Standing room only. Supposedly, some crazy millions pour into the Plaza for the lighting ceremony, the "largest lighting ceremony in the country today." The ATA has a unique opportunity to dazzle and the too infrequent bus is completely packed by Crown Center. They are running busses every 10 minutes, which isn't close to enough.
I hope these people come back. We need some articulated busses.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Jobs: An American Discussion
Last night, I attended a townhall meeting entitled "Jobs: An American Discussion" mostly to run elbows with the all-star panel and hear some interesting perspectives. On the panel: Neil Patterson, CEO of Cerner; Carol Marinovich, former mayor of the Unified Government of Kansas City, Kansas; Elson Floyd, President of the University of Missouri System; Mark Ernst, CEO of H&R Block; Her Majesty the Mayor of the Great Kansas City, MO, Kay Barnes. Moderated by CNN dude Frank Sesno, who was impressive.
Much to my chagrin, the discussion got off tangent. It seemed like they plopped the panel in front of a frustrated job fair, with most of the audience complaining about the difficulty in getting a job or some other pet problem.
The biggest frustration? The constant and off-topic complaints about tax incentives given to companies and developers. One retired school teacher lambasted Barnes (and Ernst and Patterson) for the incentives and their impact on the public schools. It made it perfectly clear that few people in the audience had a solid understanding of what tax increment financing is and how it works.
Besides, per pupil spending in the Kansas City, Missouri school district is already higher than many other districts that outperform it. The problem isn't funding, it is that the neighborhoods this district serves are crumbling, riddled with poverty and crime and lack the level of human investment needed to make them successful. Failure to be aggressive in attracting development will just drown urban neighborhoods deeper into dispair. No wealthy child left behind. Long term, the schools depend on the urban environment.
The CEO's were pretty darn honest too. Patterson: schools aren't giving us what we need, we have to go outside KC to get talent, etc. Patterson looked annoyed all night and wasn't particularly pleasant with his smug responses. I could certainly see the man who sent a scathing and threatening letter to his managers coming out in his comments and general attitude and I was glad I worked for the more pleasant guy.
So, Mark Ernst: Indians are cheaper and better. This provoked an old lady to say she is outraged with H&R Block. Well, I suppose Block should just decide not to be competitive in the marketplace, then. If Block doesn't take these steps, they can't grow and add jobs here at home and build new green buildings downtown.
Nevertheless, OUTRAGE. Nevermind that 1000 of Block's 130,000 employees are in India, and they aren't outsourced, they work for Block. OUTRAGE!
Ironically, that sense of entitlement that came up as one of the reasons for America falling behind was being slung up at the panel. Nobody was willing to wonder what we needed to do to get ahead. Nobody wanted to know how they could perform better than those in India. They just felt entitled to those jobs and shamed Ernst for taking advantage of the talent.
Then the students spoke.
Smart girl of Syrian decent: We need to take a look at WHY these other countries are getting ahead of us. We need to get over our sense of entitlement. Okay, finally, somebody who gets it!
Not-so-smart girl of suburban KC decent: Like, where do I go to make contacts and stuff, because, like, the jobs need experience but I don't have any experience and stuff.
One man in a rather important community position I can't recall said something about our educational system being "broke" and I don't think he was trying to be ironic.
I'm still a card carrying liberal, but the rants of some of the typical liberal crowd seemed woefully uninformed. To be fair, we never really got to the real issue. We were talking about the top-end jobs and skill positions. The disparity of opportunity and gap between the rich and the poor is an issue bigger than what could be addressed at that discussion.
I was interested to hear my fearless leader a little more candidly, so I slid in to a discussion Ernst was having with a few people from the audience. I felt like the point he was trying to make about creating a vibrant city and trying to attract a vibrant workforce needed reinforced, so I shared the virtues of working for H&R Block and what investments in that kind of environment can do. Comparing it to Sprint's legacy location for legacy people, I told these critics what Block is accomplishing. Though I didn't officially meet Mark and, by the time I had joined the discussion I'm sure he was annoyed and ready to go home and get some sleep, I hope he appreciated my perspective.
The prize of the night goes to the lady complaining about tax incentives after the big show. She didn't like that tax incentives were given to the Village West development in Kansas City, KS, an admittedly ugly sprawling gaggle of chain crap and NASCAR but a new hope for a crumbling tax base. Her reasoning: she can still get a TV for cheaper at Wal-Mart than she can at Nebraska Furniture Mart.
Wow, the public REALLY doesn't get it.
Much to my chagrin, the discussion got off tangent. It seemed like they plopped the panel in front of a frustrated job fair, with most of the audience complaining about the difficulty in getting a job or some other pet problem.
The biggest frustration? The constant and off-topic complaints about tax incentives given to companies and developers. One retired school teacher lambasted Barnes (and Ernst and Patterson) for the incentives and their impact on the public schools. It made it perfectly clear that few people in the audience had a solid understanding of what tax increment financing is and how it works.
Besides, per pupil spending in the Kansas City, Missouri school district is already higher than many other districts that outperform it. The problem isn't funding, it is that the neighborhoods this district serves are crumbling, riddled with poverty and crime and lack the level of human investment needed to make them successful. Failure to be aggressive in attracting development will just drown urban neighborhoods deeper into dispair. No wealthy child left behind. Long term, the schools depend on the urban environment.
The CEO's were pretty darn honest too. Patterson: schools aren't giving us what we need, we have to go outside KC to get talent, etc. Patterson looked annoyed all night and wasn't particularly pleasant with his smug responses. I could certainly see the man who sent a scathing and threatening letter to his managers coming out in his comments and general attitude and I was glad I worked for the more pleasant guy.
So, Mark Ernst: Indians are cheaper and better. This provoked an old lady to say she is outraged with H&R Block. Well, I suppose Block should just decide not to be competitive in the marketplace, then. If Block doesn't take these steps, they can't grow and add jobs here at home and build new green buildings downtown.
Nevertheless, OUTRAGE. Nevermind that 1000 of Block's 130,000 employees are in India, and they aren't outsourced, they work for Block. OUTRAGE!
Ironically, that sense of entitlement that came up as one of the reasons for America falling behind was being slung up at the panel. Nobody was willing to wonder what we needed to do to get ahead. Nobody wanted to know how they could perform better than those in India. They just felt entitled to those jobs and shamed Ernst for taking advantage of the talent.
Then the students spoke.
Smart girl of Syrian decent: We need to take a look at WHY these other countries are getting ahead of us. We need to get over our sense of entitlement. Okay, finally, somebody who gets it!
Not-so-smart girl of suburban KC decent: Like, where do I go to make contacts and stuff, because, like, the jobs need experience but I don't have any experience and stuff.
One man in a rather important community position I can't recall said something about our educational system being "broke" and I don't think he was trying to be ironic.
I'm still a card carrying liberal, but the rants of some of the typical liberal crowd seemed woefully uninformed. To be fair, we never really got to the real issue. We were talking about the top-end jobs and skill positions. The disparity of opportunity and gap between the rich and the poor is an issue bigger than what could be addressed at that discussion.
I was interested to hear my fearless leader a little more candidly, so I slid in to a discussion Ernst was having with a few people from the audience. I felt like the point he was trying to make about creating a vibrant city and trying to attract a vibrant workforce needed reinforced, so I shared the virtues of working for H&R Block and what investments in that kind of environment can do. Comparing it to Sprint's legacy location for legacy people, I told these critics what Block is accomplishing. Though I didn't officially meet Mark and, by the time I had joined the discussion I'm sure he was annoyed and ready to go home and get some sleep, I hope he appreciated my perspective.
The prize of the night goes to the lady complaining about tax incentives after the big show. She didn't like that tax incentives were given to the Village West development in Kansas City, KS, an admittedly ugly sprawling gaggle of chain crap and NASCAR but a new hope for a crumbling tax base. Her reasoning: she can still get a TV for cheaper at Wal-Mart than she can at Nebraska Furniture Mart.
Wow, the public REALLY doesn't get it.
Friday, November 11, 2005
I Heart the BBC
Nothing beats the BBC World Service for hard-hitting, balanced news coverage with an accent. I try to make the BBC part of my regular radio listening "shed-ule." Being a hopeless romantic for the past, I get most of my news through that "traditional" medium instead of the TV or the Internet.
However, with all of their other quirky features and subtle humor sprinkled in, I was convinced that our English friends were pulling a fast one when I heard a segment reported by Lucy Hooker. Lucy Hooker? Come on, that is too funny for real life.
Turns out she is real. Whether the name is a clever reporter's inside joke radio name or a result of very mean parents is unclear.
If that latter is true, Mr. and Mrs. Hooker should be very proud of their daughter.
However, with all of their other quirky features and subtle humor sprinkled in, I was convinced that our English friends were pulling a fast one when I heard a segment reported by Lucy Hooker. Lucy Hooker? Come on, that is too funny for real life.
Turns out she is real. Whether the name is a clever reporter's inside joke radio name or a result of very mean parents is unclear.
If that latter is true, Mr. and Mrs. Hooker should be very proud of their daughter.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Do You Have a Bike Handy?
I have written several times about my affinity for giving people directions and being afforded opportunities to show my hospitality in general. This morning I had another opportunity as an obviously lost lady from the hinterlands of Kansas trolled my street.
"Excuse me, can you tell me how to get..."
Yes! Directions! Positive interaction with outsiders!
"Kemper Arena," she finished.
Crap.
Instantly, my navigation by car atrophy was painfully apparent. My mind invisioned the route. "Okay, hop on the bike, down under the bridge to Woodsweather... crap, she has a car..."
It seems my abandonment of driving had diluted my navigation to "by feel" or "take the such and such bus."
Do I need to drive so I can remember how to do it?
"Well, yeah, it is kinda hard to get to. Are you interested in hearing the story of that mistake and about our new arena?"
No, I won't drive. We'll just fix the city.
"Grand is right there. Take a right and it is a straight shot."
"Excuse me, can you tell me how to get..."
Yes! Directions! Positive interaction with outsiders!
"Kemper Arena," she finished.
Crap.
Instantly, my navigation by car atrophy was painfully apparent. My mind invisioned the route. "Okay, hop on the bike, down under the bridge to Woodsweather... crap, she has a car..."
It seems my abandonment of driving had diluted my navigation to "by feel" or "take the such and such bus."
Do I need to drive so I can remember how to do it?
"Well, yeah, it is kinda hard to get to. Are you interested in hearing the story of that mistake and about our new arena?"
No, I won't drive. We'll just fix the city.
"Grand is right there. Take a right and it is a straight shot."
Monday, November 07, 2005
Fall in the Market
I'm very lucky to have moved during the most wonderful time in KC: fall. KC's fall's are off the charts. Weather remains in the 70's well into November, with nights dropping into the 50's. The late season rains and slow temperature drop-off extend the colorful season, with the trees and flowers holding out to enjoy the weather with the rest of us.
KC Skyscrapers forumer Tosspot, a powerhouse at capturing the essence of urban neighborhoods in photos and a kindred spirit in the hatred of everything suburban-esque, came back from a walk around my neighborhood with a collection of photos that makes me feel incredibly fortune to live where I do.
KC Skyscrapers forumer Tosspot, a powerhouse at capturing the essence of urban neighborhoods in photos and a kindred spirit in the hatred of everything suburban-esque, came back from a walk around my neighborhood with a collection of photos that makes me feel incredibly fortune to live where I do.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Riding for fun
Well, it is over. Who would have thought that the season of mountain bike racing, my first as an expert, would be so dramatic -- especially for little old me.
If I had any idea how close things would be at the end, I might have done something differently. I lost by one point. Any of the races where I let a space slip or didn't show up as prepared as I should could have made the difference.
Maybe if I would have skipped the 6 hour race the day before the race in Neosho, or opted out of the epic experience of Ride the Rockies so I wouldn't have to race the day after crossing the Continental Divide for the last time on the last day of the ride.
No, I'm glad I did that stuff. I need to remember that I ride my bike for fun. Having too much of a focus on being competitive will ruin it for me. As I pre-rode the course last Sunday at a leisure pace, I was reminded of just how much fun mountain biking is. The course rose above a lake and weaved through the rocks and trees and it was FUN! I'll have to do more of that.
As for the series, it was a miserable way to lose. I had my conflicts, bad luck and tough races that would have made the difference earlier in the year, but it came down to the race in Manhattan. I needed to beat the points leader. I was feeling good and was ready to roll.
He didn't race.
There is a rule in the series that allows a racer to take the average of his top 5 scores in place of a race if he volunteers to help score and marshall the race. Using this option bagged my opponent 22 points (further exacerbating the damage done by my surrendering of a 2 man race earlier in the season), meaning I had to win the race to get the 1 point I needed. I got second by 50 seconds. I had some pedal problems which are really a matter of me being underprepared. I guess I just didn't want it enough. I didn't give it enough focus and I didn't prepare, so I didn't get it.
So, now it is back to riding for fun. I will give that a ton of focus. I can't wait to get back on the streets of KC and not worry about stopping for a beer or whether I'm driving a decent pace or if I've climbed enough hills. Riding in the city is fun, and I'm all about the fun.
As for next year? I'm not worried about it. I might train for it, I might let it slip. I'm giving myself a break from thinking about that too. In the meantime, drop me a note if you feel like going for a bike ride.
If I had any idea how close things would be at the end, I might have done something differently. I lost by one point. Any of the races where I let a space slip or didn't show up as prepared as I should could have made the difference.
Maybe if I would have skipped the 6 hour race the day before the race in Neosho, or opted out of the epic experience of Ride the Rockies so I wouldn't have to race the day after crossing the Continental Divide for the last time on the last day of the ride.
No, I'm glad I did that stuff. I need to remember that I ride my bike for fun. Having too much of a focus on being competitive will ruin it for me. As I pre-rode the course last Sunday at a leisure pace, I was reminded of just how much fun mountain biking is. The course rose above a lake and weaved through the rocks and trees and it was FUN! I'll have to do more of that.
As for the series, it was a miserable way to lose. I had my conflicts, bad luck and tough races that would have made the difference earlier in the year, but it came down to the race in Manhattan. I needed to beat the points leader. I was feeling good and was ready to roll.
He didn't race.
There is a rule in the series that allows a racer to take the average of his top 5 scores in place of a race if he volunteers to help score and marshall the race. Using this option bagged my opponent 22 points (further exacerbating the damage done by my surrendering of a 2 man race earlier in the season), meaning I had to win the race to get the 1 point I needed. I got second by 50 seconds. I had some pedal problems which are really a matter of me being underprepared. I guess I just didn't want it enough. I didn't give it enough focus and I didn't prepare, so I didn't get it.
So, now it is back to riding for fun. I will give that a ton of focus. I can't wait to get back on the streets of KC and not worry about stopping for a beer or whether I'm driving a decent pace or if I've climbed enough hills. Riding in the city is fun, and I'm all about the fun.
As for next year? I'm not worried about it. I might train for it, I might let it slip. I'm giving myself a break from thinking about that too. In the meantime, drop me a note if you feel like going for a bike ride.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Grand!
I went down to the condo this morning to let in the concrete contractors, who will be transforming my dull concrete floor into a polished and colorful masterpiece over the course of this week. I then snatched a ride on MAX back to work and endured its exhausting dance through the downtown loop.
With the improvements of the transit system in KC and the advent of the Metro Area Express, many of the popular bus routes now have GPS-enabled computerized voice announcements of upcoming stops. Granted, it usually says the name of the stop as you pass through the intersection, but it is an improvement.
What I find most interesting about this system is that the computerized woman seems to have very thinly veiled opinions about some of our major urban corridors.
Broadway? She isn't so hot on that, droning out "Broad-way" in a laborious, two step statement with a deadpan inflection. She is still working on mastering saying the word in one smooth statement.
Main? She is firm. "MAIN and 39th." I always have the feeling she is a bit uninspired about the street and is just waiting for it to go away so she can say the fun things like "Union Station" or "Plaza."
The one she is excited about, counterintuitvely, is Grand. I suspect the programmers told the voice that "grand" is a word people use in positive contexts, so if ending a statement with it, it should have a dramatic ride in inflection. She complies. She chirps out the word "Grand" in a high pitched, excited chirp, as if she is encouraging you to pull that yellow cord right away and check out this street. It is simply GRAND!
I wish she were more right about that.
With the improvements of the transit system in KC and the advent of the Metro Area Express, many of the popular bus routes now have GPS-enabled computerized voice announcements of upcoming stops. Granted, it usually says the name of the stop as you pass through the intersection, but it is an improvement.
What I find most interesting about this system is that the computerized woman seems to have very thinly veiled opinions about some of our major urban corridors.
Broadway? She isn't so hot on that, droning out "Broad-way" in a laborious, two step statement with a deadpan inflection. She is still working on mastering saying the word in one smooth statement.
Main? She is firm. "MAIN and 39th." I always have the feeling she is a bit uninspired about the street and is just waiting for it to go away so she can say the fun things like "Union Station" or "Plaza."
The one she is excited about, counterintuitvely, is Grand. I suspect the programmers told the voice that "grand" is a word people use in positive contexts, so if ending a statement with it, it should have a dramatic ride in inflection. She complies. She chirps out the word "Grand" in a high pitched, excited chirp, as if she is encouraging you to pull that yellow cord right away and check out this street. It is simply GRAND!
I wish she were more right about that.
Reciprocal Inspiration
I occassionally venture through a few other local blogs of interest to catch up on the perspectives of others I've "gotten to know" through the internet. I'm particularly drawn to people who try to do what I do -- live completely or mostly without driving in the city.
One such blog is that of KC Skyscrapers occassional poster carfreekc. Heidi maintains Me, Myself and Infrastructure (clever, eh), and in catching up on her blog, I discovered this post.
Who would have thought someone was reading this thing, and even more that someone took something out of it? It inspires me to keep posting, especially after a job change killed my posting for awhile. It further inspires me to get out in the city so I can soak up those experiences that give me the stories to tell.
So, come back and look for those stories. I'll be working hard going out and looking for them.
Meanwhile, if anyone needs any pointers, routes or assistance with riding in the city, drop me a note.
One such blog is that of KC Skyscrapers occassional poster carfreekc. Heidi maintains Me, Myself and Infrastructure (clever, eh), and in catching up on her blog, I discovered this post.
Who would have thought someone was reading this thing, and even more that someone took something out of it? It inspires me to keep posting, especially after a job change killed my posting for awhile. It further inspires me to get out in the city so I can soak up those experiences that give me the stories to tell.
So, come back and look for those stories. I'll be working hard going out and looking for them.
Meanwhile, if anyone needs any pointers, routes or assistance with riding in the city, drop me a note.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Staubio Wins the Drag!
In what was hopefully just another run-of-the-mill dress up in drag and race your bike in the East Crossroads kinda night, I raced my beautiful new fixie to victory in the KC Drag Races.
Good times.
It is a drag race, you see, so you are to wear drag. I didn't have time, so I had to compete in more races. Basically, there is a "normally dressed" division that then goes on to race those in drag. I'm sorry I missed out on the dress up, though some of my friends are indeed quite sexy in dresses.
The brackets were split by single speed and geared bicycles. I won the single speed division after two incredibly close races and then went on to race the geared winner, who I beat for the grand championship.
My new bike now sports my winnings: a bright yellow feather boa. Sweet, huh?
You can find some of Vlad's pictures here
***
In other racing news, it all comes down to October 30th, the final race of the series in Manhattan, KS. A top 3 finish ahead of the points leader would get it done. Anything less... well, won't.
Perhaps I'll show up in drag for that one.
Good times.
It is a drag race, you see, so you are to wear drag. I didn't have time, so I had to compete in more races. Basically, there is a "normally dressed" division that then goes on to race those in drag. I'm sorry I missed out on the dress up, though some of my friends are indeed quite sexy in dresses.
The brackets were split by single speed and geared bicycles. I won the single speed division after two incredibly close races and then went on to race the geared winner, who I beat for the grand championship.
My new bike now sports my winnings: a bright yellow feather boa. Sweet, huh?
You can find some of Vlad's pictures here
***
In other racing news, it all comes down to October 30th, the final race of the series in Manhattan, KS. A top 3 finish ahead of the points leader would get it done. Anything less... well, won't.
Perhaps I'll show up in drag for that one.
Commuter Challenge
I just found this results page after a friend asked me what you get when you google my name. Well, that was one of the things.
Aren't we cool? I rode 88 miles that last day trying to beat those Bulldog guys and a few of our members were riding 8 miles daily, so it was bringing down their average. I say good for us, though, because the point of the competition is to raise more awareness for alternative transportation. Biking to work was normal for me, but it wasn't for most of the people on our team. We had a lot of people and we got more people riding to work than probably any other team. In the future, teams should be incented to include anyone and everyone, whether their commute is a mile of 50.
That said, it would have been cool to win, but we made a good showing.
I hope some of those people are still riding their bikes to work. What a great bunch of competitors that team was.
Aren't we cool? I rode 88 miles that last day trying to beat those Bulldog guys and a few of our members were riding 8 miles daily, so it was bringing down their average. I say good for us, though, because the point of the competition is to raise more awareness for alternative transportation. Biking to work was normal for me, but it wasn't for most of the people on our team. We had a lot of people and we got more people riding to work than probably any other team. In the future, teams should be incented to include anyone and everyone, whether their commute is a mile of 50.
That said, it would have been cool to win, but we made a good showing.
I hope some of those people are still riding their bikes to work. What a great bunch of competitors that team was.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Back in 10 Minutes...
I was walking through the glorified mall that is Crown Center today when I noticed a small sign on the door of a shop.
"Back in 10 minutes"
What does that mean? 10 minutes from when? 10 minutes from now?
Some poor soul is going to spend his entire life waiting just ten more minutes, because, really, that sign doesn't allow you to progress against your wait.
Perpetually just 10 minutes away. Oh, the wisdom of the stupid sign.
"Back in 10 minutes"
What does that mean? 10 minutes from when? 10 minutes from now?
Some poor soul is going to spend his entire life waiting just ten more minutes, because, really, that sign doesn't allow you to progress against your wait.
Perpetually just 10 minutes away. Oh, the wisdom of the stupid sign.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Best Bus Ride Ever
I lost my badge chasing the bus this morning, so I went home for lunch to pluck it out of the grass where it fell out of my bag. It is a nice day, so I walked through the Plaza to catch the MAX back to work.
This is when the best bus ride ever began.
I got to the stop just as the last bus was leaving. A new bus was coming onto the route, so it was queuing there waiting to leave. I started talking to one of the guys at the stop and he said it was going to take forever, but I asked the driver and he said he was leaving at 12:19. We both got on the bus and sat there for about 10 minutes, so there is already a bit of feeling antsy to get rolling.
About 4 minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave, this lady gets on. She asks the driver if he is leaving at the scheduled time, which she knows by heart. He says yes and she boards. She then asks the driver to direct her to a seat and starts pointing out options all over the bus. "Shall I sit here, or shall I sit here next to the gentleman in gray tie". At this point, we don't know how to react yet, so we're just sorta looking at each other and reacting in disbelief.
After no response, she then inexpicably calls out "if there is a doctor on this bus, please come forward."
A couple of guys tell her she can just sit down right up front. She continues to stand and says "does anyone have a cellphone," to which people ask why. "I need you to make a call for me." Getting little response, she shouts to the whole bus: "Raise your hand if you have a cell phone."
She forgets about that for a bit and starts to sit down, at which point she asks us if we can tell her where to stow her luggage. The guy next to her tells her to just set it on the floor next to her seat. "I don't trust, I don't trust, I don't trust," she says.
Another guy with a phone, growing concerned, asked her about the call. He continued to ask who she needed to call, to which she finally replied with a number. He asked for her name and she wouldn't give it to him. "Why would you ask that, so you can tell them who is calling?" Finally, she says something like "Ms. So-and-so" and he tells them on the phone. The guy tries to explain what is up and he asks her who she is calling for, at which time she says "nevermind" and he apologizes.
The guy then asks her if she knows where she is going. She says stuff like "I don't know this town" and "I'm lost and alone and I need help." Finally, he asked her if she was supposed to be out, at which time she replied that she wasn't and that she snuck out without her guardian or chaperon. She got a kick out of this and kept talking about what would happen if she got caught, what people thought of her sneaking away and how she could find her chaperone again.
When we heard that she was sneaking away, we told the driver and he said that she has been on this bus for the last 3 weeks with the same thing every time. The bus driver then goes into a hilarious escapade about how bus driving isn't easy. "I go home and my wife says 'all you did all day was sit in a bus' -- if she did this for 1 mile, she'd pull over and go jump in a lake."
"I'd like to go jump in a lake," said the crazy lady.
At this point, other people in the bus are saying stuff like "not today, you wouldn't" and then the lady behind me just paused and said "oh, mercy" with a laugh.
At that point, a firetruck was coming through a light and the bus came to an abrupt stop. About every 2 minutes after that, the crazy lady talked about how she hurt herself on that abrupt stop. She was wondering if she should take a pit stop to go see a doctor. At this point, half the bus is chuckling as the crazy lady is bending her arm wildly and making fists. "As long as it bends, there is no cause for concern. As long as I can make a fist, there is no cause for concern."
We also had a stop at 39th where some guy who apparently just hangs out at the stop and stops the bus without wanting to get on it harassed the driver.
At this point, we're telling the driver this is the best bus ride ever. He suggests we could all sing KumByYah, to which the crazy lady excitedly responds "lets do it!" and then sinks when nobody starts singing. We're all laughing and talking with each other by this point and I'm debating whether I can stay on the bus and circle back.
I thank the driver as I exit and he laughs and says "if you enjoyed your ride, tell me, if you didn't, tell others!"
I'm telling you. It was awesome.
This is when the best bus ride ever began.
I got to the stop just as the last bus was leaving. A new bus was coming onto the route, so it was queuing there waiting to leave. I started talking to one of the guys at the stop and he said it was going to take forever, but I asked the driver and he said he was leaving at 12:19. We both got on the bus and sat there for about 10 minutes, so there is already a bit of feeling antsy to get rolling.
About 4 minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave, this lady gets on. She asks the driver if he is leaving at the scheduled time, which she knows by heart. He says yes and she boards. She then asks the driver to direct her to a seat and starts pointing out options all over the bus. "Shall I sit here, or shall I sit here next to the gentleman in gray tie". At this point, we don't know how to react yet, so we're just sorta looking at each other and reacting in disbelief.
After no response, she then inexpicably calls out "if there is a doctor on this bus, please come forward."
A couple of guys tell her she can just sit down right up front. She continues to stand and says "does anyone have a cellphone," to which people ask why. "I need you to make a call for me." Getting little response, she shouts to the whole bus: "Raise your hand if you have a cell phone."
She forgets about that for a bit and starts to sit down, at which point she asks us if we can tell her where to stow her luggage. The guy next to her tells her to just set it on the floor next to her seat. "I don't trust, I don't trust, I don't trust," she says.
Another guy with a phone, growing concerned, asked her about the call. He continued to ask who she needed to call, to which she finally replied with a number. He asked for her name and she wouldn't give it to him. "Why would you ask that, so you can tell them who is calling?" Finally, she says something like "Ms. So-and-so" and he tells them on the phone. The guy tries to explain what is up and he asks her who she is calling for, at which time she says "nevermind" and he apologizes.
The guy then asks her if she knows where she is going. She says stuff like "I don't know this town" and "I'm lost and alone and I need help." Finally, he asked her if she was supposed to be out, at which time she replied that she wasn't and that she snuck out without her guardian or chaperon. She got a kick out of this and kept talking about what would happen if she got caught, what people thought of her sneaking away and how she could find her chaperone again.
When we heard that she was sneaking away, we told the driver and he said that she has been on this bus for the last 3 weeks with the same thing every time. The bus driver then goes into a hilarious escapade about how bus driving isn't easy. "I go home and my wife says 'all you did all day was sit in a bus' -- if she did this for 1 mile, she'd pull over and go jump in a lake."
"I'd like to go jump in a lake," said the crazy lady.
At this point, other people in the bus are saying stuff like "not today, you wouldn't" and then the lady behind me just paused and said "oh, mercy" with a laugh.
At that point, a firetruck was coming through a light and the bus came to an abrupt stop. About every 2 minutes after that, the crazy lady talked about how she hurt herself on that abrupt stop. She was wondering if she should take a pit stop to go see a doctor. At this point, half the bus is chuckling as the crazy lady is bending her arm wildly and making fists. "As long as it bends, there is no cause for concern. As long as I can make a fist, there is no cause for concern."
We also had a stop at 39th where some guy who apparently just hangs out at the stop and stops the bus without wanting to get on it harassed the driver.
At this point, we're telling the driver this is the best bus ride ever. He suggests we could all sing KumByYah, to which the crazy lady excitedly responds "lets do it!" and then sinks when nobody starts singing. We're all laughing and talking with each other by this point and I'm debating whether I can stay on the bus and circle back.
I thank the driver as I exit and he laughs and says "if you enjoyed your ride, tell me, if you didn't, tell others!"
I'm telling you. It was awesome.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Changing formations
In the soccer match of life, I'm subbing out a stable midfielder for a holding forward. I'm pushing for the goal and hopefully the win. I'm either going to win this game or lose it. Ties are boring.
On > Foward H&R Block
Off < Midfielder Sprint
On > Foward H&R Block
Off < Midfielder Sprint
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
The hunter and the hunted
As my helmet-mounted light blazed through the night sky last night, I wondered why I even bothered to have it on. The thick aftermath of the "freedom to make loud noises" celebration was lingering, filling the low spots with so much thick smoke that I could taste it as I slipped through on my bike, which was now a aggressively geared single speed thanks to a broken derailleur cable. The smoke didn't budge and limited my visibility to mere feet in front of me, reflecting the light back to me and reminding me that I was probably taking years off of my life by breathing the stuff in.
Ahh, but how else could we celebrate representation for our taxation than to burn things?
Aside from being mostly useless in the smoke cloud last night, my light does prove to make my rides more interesting. The light employs the same technology as the latest luxury cars, casting a blinding pure white light that transforms the trail ahead into daylight. For racing on rocky singletrack trails at night, this light is a blessing. For riding around smoke-filled Johnson County at midnight, this light is insanely overkill but a lot of fun.
I'm used to strange reactions from the light. I've had plenty of cars pull over, thinking they'd been nabbed when the gleam hit their mirrors. Approaching cars slow down, not sure what to expect. When riding side-by-side with another HID-equipped rider, it has to look like a jacked-up machine is approaching. It is the law enforcement identity that always creates the most laughs, though, and last night was no exception.
Fireworks are illegal in Johnson County in what appears to be a universally unpopular and mostly disregarded decree likely imposed by some wealthy control freaks. While I agree that fireworks are a colossal waste that pollutes the air and puts countless people (especially children) at risk of injury, there is no denying the value of the thrill people get from loud booms.
In search of this thrill, a large group of teenagers was huddled over some forbidden contraband in a school parking lot. As I passed, I swung the beam of my light their direction and as I came up over the rise that was hiding them, I saw them running for the hills. They must have thought they had been nabbed, but they ran without looking back around the school, completely visible in the lit parking lot the entire time. They were lucky I wasn't a real cop because there is no way they could have gotten away, especially if I was chasing them on a bike. (I'll save my "there should be more cops -cops that are capable riders- on bikes" rant for another time)
Finally, one kid turned around and noticed that the light wasn't coming from a car. He ran a bit more, turned again, looked puzzled and then continued running. He did this until he was pretty sure I had passed, still trying to figure out what the heck was going on. The bright light coming out of nowhere is probably the same strange sight that causes cars to pull over and neighborhood residents to call the police reporting strange sightings.
One such sighting must have been what happened last night, later in my journey. I pulled off into an alleyway to evacuate excess liquids. Admittedly, I picked an alley in a popular J.C. Nichols shopping district in Fairway, which wasn't the best place to blatantly disregard the law by attending to my body's demands. As I emerged from the alley, a Fairway squad car pulled up with its spotlight trained on me.
The cop barked at me, sounding as if he had just had a career breakthrough high-profile bust.
"What are you hiding for?"
Luckily, I was no longer standing there unloading my bladder and I calmly stood there as if I was simply taking a biology-unrelated break. When the officer got a good look at me, I'm guessing I wasn't the renegade teenager he was expecting. I told him I wasn't hiding and was moving along and he stuttered "oh...uh...okay" and just sat there as I rode off. I turned the corner into Westwood, the next suburb, and watched him circle the lot, obviously looking for something.
I left my big, law enforcement enticing light off for the rest of the night.
Ahh, but how else could we celebrate representation for our taxation than to burn things?
Aside from being mostly useless in the smoke cloud last night, my light does prove to make my rides more interesting. The light employs the same technology as the latest luxury cars, casting a blinding pure white light that transforms the trail ahead into daylight. For racing on rocky singletrack trails at night, this light is a blessing. For riding around smoke-filled Johnson County at midnight, this light is insanely overkill but a lot of fun.
I'm used to strange reactions from the light. I've had plenty of cars pull over, thinking they'd been nabbed when the gleam hit their mirrors. Approaching cars slow down, not sure what to expect. When riding side-by-side with another HID-equipped rider, it has to look like a jacked-up machine is approaching. It is the law enforcement identity that always creates the most laughs, though, and last night was no exception.
Fireworks are illegal in Johnson County in what appears to be a universally unpopular and mostly disregarded decree likely imposed by some wealthy control freaks. While I agree that fireworks are a colossal waste that pollutes the air and puts countless people (especially children) at risk of injury, there is no denying the value of the thrill people get from loud booms.
In search of this thrill, a large group of teenagers was huddled over some forbidden contraband in a school parking lot. As I passed, I swung the beam of my light their direction and as I came up over the rise that was hiding them, I saw them running for the hills. They must have thought they had been nabbed, but they ran without looking back around the school, completely visible in the lit parking lot the entire time. They were lucky I wasn't a real cop because there is no way they could have gotten away, especially if I was chasing them on a bike. (I'll save my "there should be more cops -cops that are capable riders- on bikes" rant for another time)
Finally, one kid turned around and noticed that the light wasn't coming from a car. He ran a bit more, turned again, looked puzzled and then continued running. He did this until he was pretty sure I had passed, still trying to figure out what the heck was going on. The bright light coming out of nowhere is probably the same strange sight that causes cars to pull over and neighborhood residents to call the police reporting strange sightings.
One such sighting must have been what happened last night, later in my journey. I pulled off into an alleyway to evacuate excess liquids. Admittedly, I picked an alley in a popular J.C. Nichols shopping district in Fairway, which wasn't the best place to blatantly disregard the law by attending to my body's demands. As I emerged from the alley, a Fairway squad car pulled up with its spotlight trained on me.
The cop barked at me, sounding as if he had just had a career breakthrough high-profile bust.
"What are you hiding for?"
Luckily, I was no longer standing there unloading my bladder and I calmly stood there as if I was simply taking a biology-unrelated break. When the officer got a good look at me, I'm guessing I wasn't the renegade teenager he was expecting. I told him I wasn't hiding and was moving along and he stuttered "oh...uh...okay" and just sat there as I rode off. I turned the corner into Westwood, the next suburb, and watched him circle the lot, obviously looking for something.
I left my big, law enforcement enticing light off for the rest of the night.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Encircling Lightening
It is pretty common to hear someone say "luckily, I got home just in time to miss the storm".
Last night, I was lucky to get caught in it.
I almost didn't. I was riding home and decided, for no apparent reason, to continue going north on Lamar. As I approached I35, I got a call asking me if I was coming to the Wednesday Urban Exploration ride. Typically, I don't get out of the 'burbs in time, but it was running late and they hadn't left. I met the guys on Southwest Boulevard and a great ride ensued.
We made a loop through some cool areas in Argentine and Armourdale in KCK as the sky grew ominous. On my way down Lamar, I had heard that Leavenworth County was experiencing some pretty gnarly weather and we could see the looming darkness approach as we made our way through the interesting areas of these neighborhoods.
On State Ave, we stopped at El Taconazo, a tasty joint that is run by Mexicans for Mexicans. Walking in is like a throwback to the days of segregation. You are very welcome there, but you get strange looks from the patrons surprised to see a pack of gringos come in.
The place rules. The food is great and the environment real. The TV was showing the Mexico vs. Trinidad soccer match and the place was full with people enjoying it. We ordered our food just as the rain started to fall. Not long after, a man (presumably the owner) offered to unlock his outdoor covered patio area so we could shelter our bikes from the rain.
The rain intensified. The collective let out a gasp as the power blinked on and off a few times. The hail started. This was fun! We were strange when we walked in but we are now another group riding out the storm together, all of us suspended there while the hail pelted the ground outside. The weather gave people something to talk about and everyone relaxed. Any awkwardness or racial tension that might have existed disappeared and we were all one happy family in there.
If only it was hailing all the time.
The most violent part of the storm passed, so we ventured out in the rain to finish our ride home. The lightening was majestic, wrapping around the sky dramatically. Each flash would spread its light across the wet pavement as if the pavement itself was a backlit sheet. Deep streams of runoff carried their debris across the roads and swirled into potholes as we splashed through them. The pavement stretched the alternating colors of the stoplights for blocks and blocks, with red streaks in the pavement in front of my wheel warning me of the required stop far off in the distance. In the residential neighborhoods, the single streetlights on the corners cast a stripe of reflecting light down the block -- a ribbon I could follow to see the road.
Every bit of the city is different in the rain. It is nature's way of giving the city a natural high -- enhancing its contours, lights and colors -- and, as always, riding is the best way to experience it.
Nothing beats how storms enhance a ride and nothing beats how hail enhances society.
Last night, I was lucky to get caught in it.
I almost didn't. I was riding home and decided, for no apparent reason, to continue going north on Lamar. As I approached I35, I got a call asking me if I was coming to the Wednesday Urban Exploration ride. Typically, I don't get out of the 'burbs in time, but it was running late and they hadn't left. I met the guys on Southwest Boulevard and a great ride ensued.
We made a loop through some cool areas in Argentine and Armourdale in KCK as the sky grew ominous. On my way down Lamar, I had heard that Leavenworth County was experiencing some pretty gnarly weather and we could see the looming darkness approach as we made our way through the interesting areas of these neighborhoods.
On State Ave, we stopped at El Taconazo, a tasty joint that is run by Mexicans for Mexicans. Walking in is like a throwback to the days of segregation. You are very welcome there, but you get strange looks from the patrons surprised to see a pack of gringos come in.
The place rules. The food is great and the environment real. The TV was showing the Mexico vs. Trinidad soccer match and the place was full with people enjoying it. We ordered our food just as the rain started to fall. Not long after, a man (presumably the owner) offered to unlock his outdoor covered patio area so we could shelter our bikes from the rain.
The rain intensified. The collective let out a gasp as the power blinked on and off a few times. The hail started. This was fun! We were strange when we walked in but we are now another group riding out the storm together, all of us suspended there while the hail pelted the ground outside. The weather gave people something to talk about and everyone relaxed. Any awkwardness or racial tension that might have existed disappeared and we were all one happy family in there.
If only it was hailing all the time.
The most violent part of the storm passed, so we ventured out in the rain to finish our ride home. The lightening was majestic, wrapping around the sky dramatically. Each flash would spread its light across the wet pavement as if the pavement itself was a backlit sheet. Deep streams of runoff carried their debris across the roads and swirled into potholes as we splashed through them. The pavement stretched the alternating colors of the stoplights for blocks and blocks, with red streaks in the pavement in front of my wheel warning me of the required stop far off in the distance. In the residential neighborhoods, the single streetlights on the corners cast a stripe of reflecting light down the block -- a ribbon I could follow to see the road.
Every bit of the city is different in the rain. It is nature's way of giving the city a natural high -- enhancing its contours, lights and colors -- and, as always, riding is the best way to experience it.
Nothing beats how storms enhance a ride and nothing beats how hail enhances society.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Mama said there'd be days like this...
Yesterday was race #7 of the Midwest Fat Tire Series, a series in which I aspire to win the very competitive expert class.
Two weeks after gaining a spot or two due to mechanical problems among my competitors, karma came back to bite me. I was on pace to win this race, which would have marked my first win ever as an expert. I was sitting in second behind Jason Stiger, a guy who I've been racing neck and neck with since beginner class, and I was less than 1 minute behind him. He is known to start fast and strong and take his time in the first lap while I get faster as the race progresses, so I was confident when I knew we were going to be doing 3 laps of this very demanding course.
On the homestretch of lap 2, I started to notice my rear tire losing air pressure. It started to wash out on the rocks, so I was forced to stop and attend to it. It seemed like the tubeless tire may just have lost its seal, so I blasted it with a CO2 shot. It seemed to hold, so I got back on and started hauling. By the end of lap 2, the tire was losing pressure again and slowing me down, but I was still holding my own, so I tried to ride through it.
Early in lap 3, the tire rolled off the rim and planted me firmly into the forest, leaving me a bit scratched and my head aching from smacking the group. I immediately noticed that the metal-on-metal sound I had heard during the ordeal was my stem twisting itself out of alignment on the steerer tube, meaning the my tire was pointed hard right when my handlebars were straight. I tried to compose myself, dug the tools out of my jersey pocket and went to work righting the stem. Instead of putting a tube in the rear tire like I should, I stubbornly tried to seal it again, thinking that even if it was leaking, it would be faster to top it off 2 or 3 times than it would be to stop, take the back wheel off and put a tube in an uncooperative tubeless tire.
Wrong. A mile or two later, I was off the bike, changing the flat trailside as the last of my class finally overtook me. For the rest of the race, I didn't have it in me to fight anymore. I was riding very strongly and it wasn't enough, but it was beyond my control.
This is part of racing. It will teach me to have my bike completely ready on race day. It will teach me to be patient, keep working and come out even stronger for the next race. It is only a matter of time until my points competition gets a flat or two. They won't catch me, flats or no flats, as long as I can stay on my bike.
Two weeks after gaining a spot or two due to mechanical problems among my competitors, karma came back to bite me. I was on pace to win this race, which would have marked my first win ever as an expert. I was sitting in second behind Jason Stiger, a guy who I've been racing neck and neck with since beginner class, and I was less than 1 minute behind him. He is known to start fast and strong and take his time in the first lap while I get faster as the race progresses, so I was confident when I knew we were going to be doing 3 laps of this very demanding course.
On the homestretch of lap 2, I started to notice my rear tire losing air pressure. It started to wash out on the rocks, so I was forced to stop and attend to it. It seemed like the tubeless tire may just have lost its seal, so I blasted it with a CO2 shot. It seemed to hold, so I got back on and started hauling. By the end of lap 2, the tire was losing pressure again and slowing me down, but I was still holding my own, so I tried to ride through it.
Early in lap 3, the tire rolled off the rim and planted me firmly into the forest, leaving me a bit scratched and my head aching from smacking the group. I immediately noticed that the metal-on-metal sound I had heard during the ordeal was my stem twisting itself out of alignment on the steerer tube, meaning the my tire was pointed hard right when my handlebars were straight. I tried to compose myself, dug the tools out of my jersey pocket and went to work righting the stem. Instead of putting a tube in the rear tire like I should, I stubbornly tried to seal it again, thinking that even if it was leaking, it would be faster to top it off 2 or 3 times than it would be to stop, take the back wheel off and put a tube in an uncooperative tubeless tire.
Wrong. A mile or two later, I was off the bike, changing the flat trailside as the last of my class finally overtook me. For the rest of the race, I didn't have it in me to fight anymore. I was riding very strongly and it wasn't enough, but it was beyond my control.
This is part of racing. It will teach me to have my bike completely ready on race day. It will teach me to be patient, keep working and come out even stronger for the next race. It is only a matter of time until my points competition gets a flat or two. They won't catch me, flats or no flats, as long as I can stay on my bike.
Monday, May 30, 2005
12 Hours on the bike
In September, I will race my bike for 12 hours a few times, culminating with the grueling Rapture in Misery, which I aspire to win someday. In a race like that, you keep riding because you have to. You crank onward deliriously, often outside of yourself, until the rocks don't even register in your head. It hurts, but the sense of satisfaction is overwhelming.
Today, I spent 12 hours on my bike. Not constantly riding, mind you, and not always at any forced pace. I spent 12 hours on my bike because I was riding in a city I love and a city that was alive with activity today.
I started by heading downtown after stopping for Jamaican BBQ at Black Belt in Westport. Downtown was crammed with traffic because of people leaving a graduation at Municipal, so I weaved and dodged the traffic, fancying myself a bicycle commuter in a congested city. Then, it was the River Market in what has become an almost-daily pilgrimage to 200 Main. The office conversion on 2nd Street has renderings up that look great.
In the River Market, there was a couple walking their dog that was offering directions to some visitors with Nebraska plates. As I rode by, I found myself turning around and observing from across the street. In the back of my mind, I was hoping there would be something that the guy offering directions wouldn't know. I was hoping they could ask me and I could help. I long to interact with visitors. I love to leave them with a positive impression of Kansas City and thank them for coming. I've even ridden ahead of a lost couple downtown, allowing them to follow me to their intended destination.
Yes, I'm from here. Yes, I know how to get there. Please ask me. I would absolutely love to help and I really, really want you to enjoy your stay.
I tried to help some little girls this afternoon as well, but that effort was put to a stop by Kansas City's finest. I stumbled upon the setup for the "celebration at the Station," a fireworks show and free symphony concert at Union Station. I decided that I'd explore KCK all afternoon and make it back to the station at 7:30 when the party got started. When I returned, I explored the crowds and checked out the new MAX bus that was on display. I worked my way toward the Memorial and on my way up the hill, I noticed a group of little girls huddled together, pointing upward at the monument. One of them had lost her grip on her helium balloon and it was floating away. The girls were vigilantly acting as spotters, scheming what would obviously be an impossible balloon recovery plan.
As soon as I figured out what they were talking about, I realized that I could swing around the side of the retaining wall and climb up the steep access road, putting myself in the path of the balloon in time to snag it and return it to the girl. The crosswind was giving the balloon more run and less rise, keeping it in reach if I could gain altitude quickly. I downshifted and stomped down on the pedals, riding with a sense of purpose, and as I swung around the corner with the balloon in sight, the police officer motioned for me to stop and summoned me. I was told I couldn't pass through that way. I conceded, thanked him and turned around to see the balloon drift away.
Sorry, little girl. I really thought I could get that balloon back for you.
All in all, the last 12 hours were very rich ones. On Troost, I guy waved at me for help and I smacked a pair of pliers against his starter while he tried to start his car. I met friends at Broadway Cafe, where a strange man shared his conspiracy theories with us. I ran into a procession of Catholics, marching down the middle of Broadway muttering strange things about Mary, solidifying my opinion that Catholics are weird and a tad scary. I was showered with "git yo ass on the sidewalk" in the heart of KCK, where I rode the entire length of the stigmatized Quindaro Boulevard before travelling the entire length of Wyandotte County north to south. I tried to no avail to set off a drive-through sensor to get a root beer float. I took a short break in the park, where I laid down in the grass to watch the birds deal with the same headwind I had been working against earlier. I met another friend on the great lawn of Liberty Memorial as the fireworks display was ending -- a display I watched rising over the Midtown skyline as I rode down Broadway. I had drunk guys pretend to jump out in front of me in Westport and drank peach tea in the Crown Center parking garage. I tried to speak Spanish when I ordered a tasty fresh fruit treat from Tropicana, the Hispanic dessert shop on Southwest Boulevard. I climbed the concrete stairs of an abandoned school in the heart of Quindaro to check out the amazing view. I found neighborhoods I had never seen and navigated on the fly. I watched the post-bar pickup process between the primped girls and frat boys on the Plaza. I dinged my bell to the delight of awe-struck little kids and was flashed a peace sign by a woman who told me, in a thick Irish accent, that she wished there were more bike lanes and she admired me for riding my bike.
I love this city and I love how much I can experience just by being here and going outside. By going for a simple bike ride, I did a ton of cool stuff today.
The only thing I didn't do was catch that balloon.
Today, I spent 12 hours on my bike. Not constantly riding, mind you, and not always at any forced pace. I spent 12 hours on my bike because I was riding in a city I love and a city that was alive with activity today.
I started by heading downtown after stopping for Jamaican BBQ at Black Belt in Westport. Downtown was crammed with traffic because of people leaving a graduation at Municipal, so I weaved and dodged the traffic, fancying myself a bicycle commuter in a congested city. Then, it was the River Market in what has become an almost-daily pilgrimage to 200 Main. The office conversion on 2nd Street has renderings up that look great.
In the River Market, there was a couple walking their dog that was offering directions to some visitors with Nebraska plates. As I rode by, I found myself turning around and observing from across the street. In the back of my mind, I was hoping there would be something that the guy offering directions wouldn't know. I was hoping they could ask me and I could help. I long to interact with visitors. I love to leave them with a positive impression of Kansas City and thank them for coming. I've even ridden ahead of a lost couple downtown, allowing them to follow me to their intended destination.
Yes, I'm from here. Yes, I know how to get there. Please ask me. I would absolutely love to help and I really, really want you to enjoy your stay.
I tried to help some little girls this afternoon as well, but that effort was put to a stop by Kansas City's finest. I stumbled upon the setup for the "celebration at the Station," a fireworks show and free symphony concert at Union Station. I decided that I'd explore KCK all afternoon and make it back to the station at 7:30 when the party got started. When I returned, I explored the crowds and checked out the new MAX bus that was on display. I worked my way toward the Memorial and on my way up the hill, I noticed a group of little girls huddled together, pointing upward at the monument. One of them had lost her grip on her helium balloon and it was floating away. The girls were vigilantly acting as spotters, scheming what would obviously be an impossible balloon recovery plan.
As soon as I figured out what they were talking about, I realized that I could swing around the side of the retaining wall and climb up the steep access road, putting myself in the path of the balloon in time to snag it and return it to the girl. The crosswind was giving the balloon more run and less rise, keeping it in reach if I could gain altitude quickly. I downshifted and stomped down on the pedals, riding with a sense of purpose, and as I swung around the corner with the balloon in sight, the police officer motioned for me to stop and summoned me. I was told I couldn't pass through that way. I conceded, thanked him and turned around to see the balloon drift away.
Sorry, little girl. I really thought I could get that balloon back for you.
All in all, the last 12 hours were very rich ones. On Troost, I guy waved at me for help and I smacked a pair of pliers against his starter while he tried to start his car. I met friends at Broadway Cafe, where a strange man shared his conspiracy theories with us. I ran into a procession of Catholics, marching down the middle of Broadway muttering strange things about Mary, solidifying my opinion that Catholics are weird and a tad scary. I was showered with "git yo ass on the sidewalk" in the heart of KCK, where I rode the entire length of the stigmatized Quindaro Boulevard before travelling the entire length of Wyandotte County north to south. I tried to no avail to set off a drive-through sensor to get a root beer float. I took a short break in the park, where I laid down in the grass to watch the birds deal with the same headwind I had been working against earlier. I met another friend on the great lawn of Liberty Memorial as the fireworks display was ending -- a display I watched rising over the Midtown skyline as I rode down Broadway. I had drunk guys pretend to jump out in front of me in Westport and drank peach tea in the Crown Center parking garage. I tried to speak Spanish when I ordered a tasty fresh fruit treat from Tropicana, the Hispanic dessert shop on Southwest Boulevard. I climbed the concrete stairs of an abandoned school in the heart of Quindaro to check out the amazing view. I found neighborhoods I had never seen and navigated on the fly. I watched the post-bar pickup process between the primped girls and frat boys on the Plaza. I dinged my bell to the delight of awe-struck little kids and was flashed a peace sign by a woman who told me, in a thick Irish accent, that she wished there were more bike lanes and she admired me for riding my bike.
I love this city and I love how much I can experience just by being here and going outside. By going for a simple bike ride, I did a ton of cool stuff today.
The only thing I didn't do was catch that balloon.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Another parking lot, another lost opportunity
KCDowntown, from the KC Skyscrapers forum, captures what all the fuss is about when it comes to parking downtown, extending the law of induced demand from roads to their natural extension.
It is refreshing to know that other people are thinking about these things.
It is refreshing to know that other people are thinking about these things.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Common sense is lost on the jaded
On a recent afternoon enjoying a delightful array of shops and eateries in the Westport neighborhood, I overheard a little girl ask a question that was incredibly profound. This was lost on her dad, however, who was so programmed by the world he is used to that he didn't even consider why she would ask the question in the first place.
We were in a small loop of shops along Pennsylvania St, a street beloved by Kansas City urbanites for its intimacy and pedestrian scale. However, in the section we were standing, the shops are set back from the street to accommodate a small parking lot and a u-shaped drive. This is a lot I've always disliked. When enjoying a meal at a patio table in front of Californos, one has the charming view of a pile of cars in temporary storage. On a street that is so perfectly human scaled, this lot is a giant hole.
The girl's question?
"Daddy, why are there cars here?"
She was just strolling along, taking in all of the visuals, when she turned to the lot and stopped short. She turned her head at the array of cars, thought to herself and then asked the question.
Her dad didn't miss a beat. He didn't get it. He responded that there were cars here because people parked them there, insulting the girl with his oversimplified explanation that completely missed the point and failed to reward the girl for her insight. Little did this girl know that she knows more about this topic than daddy does. Dissatisfied with the response, you could tell the girl still felt as if she had an open, unresolved question. As her dad prodded her to continue on their walk, you could almost see her give up and then resume walking along with her dad.
When I heard it, I did the same thing. I stopped in my tracks. I've spent tons of time trying to explain why cars don't belong. I try to deal with the balance between the realities of car dependence that conflict with great urban spaces. She didn't have to deal with all of that. She didn't worry about anyone's preconceived notions. She just asked the obvious question.
The little girl hasn't had to deal with driving. Her dad's SUV with its Kansas plates reveal that her reality is the suburbs. To her, this actual neighborhood must feel like a park, with cars being out of place when compared to the sprawling parking lots of suburbia. Her experience of all of the stimuli of a dense, leafy urban street was affronted by these cars. It didn't feel right in her clever little brain.
If only it didn't feel right for everyone else. I'm convinced it doesn't feel quite right, but adults don't know anything else. We're used to it. It is normal. We don't ask for more and we don't really have relationships with our built environments anymore.
I had to resist the urge to answer that question for the girl... or, better yet, sit down and ask her what she meant by the question. We could learn a lot from her. Sadly, by the time people are articulate enough to communicate the feelings that their environment elicits from them. By that time, they are numb.
Hopefully this is changing. If only everyone was as smart as that little girl. I hope she keeps on asking "stupid" and "absurd" questions like that one and the rest of us follow her lead. As part of his response, daddy said "I parked here," which solidified his lack of perspective, as if the correct question would be "why are there not cars here?" I mean, what a killer parking spot! Front row!
Front row parking for a place that is destroyed by front row parking, but it sure is great to find a spot!
We were in a small loop of shops along Pennsylvania St, a street beloved by Kansas City urbanites for its intimacy and pedestrian scale. However, in the section we were standing, the shops are set back from the street to accommodate a small parking lot and a u-shaped drive. This is a lot I've always disliked. When enjoying a meal at a patio table in front of Californos, one has the charming view of a pile of cars in temporary storage. On a street that is so perfectly human scaled, this lot is a giant hole.
The girl's question?
"Daddy, why are there cars here?"
She was just strolling along, taking in all of the visuals, when she turned to the lot and stopped short. She turned her head at the array of cars, thought to herself and then asked the question.
Her dad didn't miss a beat. He didn't get it. He responded that there were cars here because people parked them there, insulting the girl with his oversimplified explanation that completely missed the point and failed to reward the girl for her insight. Little did this girl know that she knows more about this topic than daddy does. Dissatisfied with the response, you could tell the girl still felt as if she had an open, unresolved question. As her dad prodded her to continue on their walk, you could almost see her give up and then resume walking along with her dad.
When I heard it, I did the same thing. I stopped in my tracks. I've spent tons of time trying to explain why cars don't belong. I try to deal with the balance between the realities of car dependence that conflict with great urban spaces. She didn't have to deal with all of that. She didn't worry about anyone's preconceived notions. She just asked the obvious question.
The little girl hasn't had to deal with driving. Her dad's SUV with its Kansas plates reveal that her reality is the suburbs. To her, this actual neighborhood must feel like a park, with cars being out of place when compared to the sprawling parking lots of suburbia. Her experience of all of the stimuli of a dense, leafy urban street was affronted by these cars. It didn't feel right in her clever little brain.
If only it didn't feel right for everyone else. I'm convinced it doesn't feel quite right, but adults don't know anything else. We're used to it. It is normal. We don't ask for more and we don't really have relationships with our built environments anymore.
I had to resist the urge to answer that question for the girl... or, better yet, sit down and ask her what she meant by the question. We could learn a lot from her. Sadly, by the time people are articulate enough to communicate the feelings that their environment elicits from them. By that time, they are numb.
Hopefully this is changing. If only everyone was as smart as that little girl. I hope she keeps on asking "stupid" and "absurd" questions like that one and the rest of us follow her lead. As part of his response, daddy said "I parked here," which solidified his lack of perspective, as if the correct question would be "why are there not cars here?" I mean, what a killer parking spot! Front row!
Front row parking for a place that is destroyed by front row parking, but it sure is great to find a spot!
The times they are a changin'
I was talking with my friend Pete, who has returned to the venerable original Dairy Queen that was my employer on and off for 5 years. He said it "just isn't the same" as it used to be. What he was lamenting is the fact that there is virtually no sense of community or pride among the workforce like there was when I started there in high school. Despite its less-than-glamorous fast food associations, I think a lot of people that I worked with took pride in their job at DQ. I know I did. We were a tight knit group that tried to a do a good job. We wanted to succeed. Being a manager was easy because everyone wanted to do a good job. A good team at DQ was a well oiled machine that worked well together, had a good time and made customers happy. I actually didn't mind going to work. I made lasting friendships with my co-workers and I had a relationship with the store. In fact, on the way back from a recent bike race, I complained about DQ changing the name of the Mr. Misty to some marketing-eze like "Arctic Slushpile" or whatever the crap.
So, to continue my old man "in my day" revelations, I realized that in my day, people just cared more. Especially young people. I think my generation was the last of those that didn't feel as if they were entitled to everything. We had a work ethic and we had social cohesion. Now the job is just the paycheck the person deserves. The co-workers are just people you deal with to earn your money. You put in your time, you don't try to enjoy it nor concern yourself with the quality of your work, and you make sure to complain about it no matter what. In my day, DQ was one of the best places to work. Now, it is just a job.
The relationship goes both ways. I think the existing DQ staff had a cohesion that gracefully brought in newbies. Now, more than ever, everyone is a cog in the wheel. I'm sure the change of ownership that DQ underwent changed the culture, but the generational gap was already apparent with the new employees that started during my summers home from college.
This is just like the corporate world, where a good relationship with your employer often meant a lifetime of employment. At Sprint, name badges at workstations used to be made out of molded plastic. The name was embossed on this, a veritable plaque with all of its connotations of nobility and permanence. If you want to fire somebody, you at least have to eat the $5 sunk costs of the namebadge.
Now, each cubicle has a plastic holder that holds a little slip of paper with a name laser printed on it. They are so easily changed that they are a common tool of the practical joker. The company's investment in your identity is 1/3 of a sheet of paper.
The old guard still hangs onto those plastic name badges from their old locations, though I doubt they give them much comfort. Placing them to display is a subtle form of protest, staking out a little more ownership to your piece of the profit floor than the company would care to give you.
Of course, it will only take an extra 10 seconds to pull down the plastic namebadge and throw it in the trash. Lets hope the slips of paper that replace them don't suffer from the same problems that destroyed what it meant to make Blizzards with pride.
So, to continue my old man "in my day" revelations, I realized that in my day, people just cared more. Especially young people. I think my generation was the last of those that didn't feel as if they were entitled to everything. We had a work ethic and we had social cohesion. Now the job is just the paycheck the person deserves. The co-workers are just people you deal with to earn your money. You put in your time, you don't try to enjoy it nor concern yourself with the quality of your work, and you make sure to complain about it no matter what. In my day, DQ was one of the best places to work. Now, it is just a job.
The relationship goes both ways. I think the existing DQ staff had a cohesion that gracefully brought in newbies. Now, more than ever, everyone is a cog in the wheel. I'm sure the change of ownership that DQ underwent changed the culture, but the generational gap was already apparent with the new employees that started during my summers home from college.
This is just like the corporate world, where a good relationship with your employer often meant a lifetime of employment. At Sprint, name badges at workstations used to be made out of molded plastic. The name was embossed on this, a veritable plaque with all of its connotations of nobility and permanence. If you want to fire somebody, you at least have to eat the $5 sunk costs of the namebadge.
Now, each cubicle has a plastic holder that holds a little slip of paper with a name laser printed on it. They are so easily changed that they are a common tool of the practical joker. The company's investment in your identity is 1/3 of a sheet of paper.
The old guard still hangs onto those plastic name badges from their old locations, though I doubt they give them much comfort. Placing them to display is a subtle form of protest, staking out a little more ownership to your piece of the profit floor than the company would care to give you.
Of course, it will only take an extra 10 seconds to pull down the plastic namebadge and throw it in the trash. Lets hope the slips of paper that replace them don't suffer from the same problems that destroyed what it meant to make Blizzards with pride.
Friday, May 20, 2005
On unbelievable moves, Blunt raises the bar with razing a bridge
Missouri Governor Matt Blunt, a guy with virtually no redeeming qualities who called my beloved city and other democratic strongholds places "where nobody wants to live anymore" is now doing his best to dismantle one of Missouri's greatest assets: the Katy trail.
It seems our great governor doesn't want to deal with a historic bridge that is to become part of the Katy trail. Instead, he wants to give it away to a company so they can sell it for scrap. Yup, they'll make money off of it and we'll give it away for free.
"A top official at the Missouri Department of Natural Resources has resigned over a move by Gov. Matt Blunt that he says could threaten Katy Trail State Park, one of the country's largest rails-to-trails projects."
One bridge a threat? Well, yes, actually. Giving up this bridge creates a gap in the corridor. The delicate legal framework that allows that state to maintain the corridor would be upset, meaning adjacent property owners could sue for this land and close the trail forever.
Sign the petition to help save this bridge and the Katy trail.
It seems our great governor doesn't want to deal with a historic bridge that is to become part of the Katy trail. Instead, he wants to give it away to a company so they can sell it for scrap. Yup, they'll make money off of it and we'll give it away for free.
"A top official at the Missouri Department of Natural Resources has resigned over a move by Gov. Matt Blunt that he says could threaten Katy Trail State Park, one of the country's largest rails-to-trails projects."
One bridge a threat? Well, yes, actually. Giving up this bridge creates a gap in the corridor. The delicate legal framework that allows that state to maintain the corridor would be upset, meaning adjacent property owners could sue for this land and close the trail forever.
Sign the petition to help save this bridge and the Katy trail.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Up or down vote, continued
James Dobson joins the fray with this:
"Americans overwhelmingly (by 81 and 82 percent in two recent polls) agree that even if Senate Democrats disagree with a nominee, they should still allow an up-or-down vote on each one. Can the will of the people be any clearer?"
Yes, it sure can. The American people don't get it, James, and you know it.
..and holy crap, they have a website. Three guesses what the URL is...
http://upordownvote.com/
Up or down vote, up or down vote, up or down vote, up or down vote. Got it?
"Americans overwhelmingly (by 81 and 82 percent in two recent polls) agree that even if Senate Democrats disagree with a nominee, they should still allow an up-or-down vote on each one. Can the will of the people be any clearer?"
Yes, it sure can. The American people don't get it, James, and you know it.
..and holy crap, they have a website. Three guesses what the URL is...
http://upordownvote.com/
Up or down vote, up or down vote, up or down vote, up or down vote. Got it?
"Up-or-down Vote"
If you are exposed to any kind of news media, you've probably heard the phrase "up or down vote" about 10,000 times in the last few days. We Americans don't have the attention span to really know what is going on, so the Republicans have packaged this deceptive "up or down vote" soundbite for us. "Just let us vote," they say. "Those mean democrats are just keeping the Senate from working."
Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist shares his wisdom in an editorial to USA Today, again using the "up or down vote" morsel.
Last time I checked, the right to hold open debate is a Senate procedure as well, and one that has been used by both parties. I believe it is Strom Thurmond that holds the record for the longest filibuster speech.
The Republicans are now threatening to kill the filibuster because they are annoyed. They want the American public to think that the meanie Democrats are just being obstructionists. The Republicans just want to talk, you know. They want a good debate and then they'll take the result after that -- a result of good old Senate process!
"Our Constitution grants the Senate the power to confirm or reject the president's judicial nominees. In exercising this duty, the Senate has always followed a careful and deliberate process of examining the nominees through hearings, discussing their merits in committee, debating them in the full Senate and then coming to an up-or-down vote on the Senate floor. We investigate, we debate, and then we decide."
Riiiight. What our friend Billy Frist knows is that they'll go through the motions and the conclusion is already determined. The Democrats will probably raise points about controversial decisions and look for examples of judicial activism. The Republicans will then respond with "but she was a Sunday school teacher and did really, really well in law school." They'll repeat that stuff for awhile and then the vote will fall along party lines. So, if "up or down vote" is part of a fair, investigative process, why will the results fall along party lines?
Because "up or down vote" is a smokescreen, folks. They keep saying it as if that is really all they are asking for, but when they get it, they have a confirmation and they've circumvented the minority's only recourse.
Ahh... politics! As long as they keep saying "up or down vote" until they get their way, they shouldn't have any problems with the American public thinking about it.
EDIT: Out of curiousity, I googled for "'up or down vote'" to see just how on message all of the Republicans are. Never missing a beat, it seems, they've got their little soundbite mastered. In the process, I found another blog post that had the same analysis as I did, except they have a lot more spare time on their hands.
Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist shares his wisdom in an editorial to USA Today, again using the "up or down vote" morsel.
Last time I checked, the right to hold open debate is a Senate procedure as well, and one that has been used by both parties. I believe it is Strom Thurmond that holds the record for the longest filibuster speech.
The Republicans are now threatening to kill the filibuster because they are annoyed. They want the American public to think that the meanie Democrats are just being obstructionists. The Republicans just want to talk, you know. They want a good debate and then they'll take the result after that -- a result of good old Senate process!
"Our Constitution grants the Senate the power to confirm or reject the president's judicial nominees. In exercising this duty, the Senate has always followed a careful and deliberate process of examining the nominees through hearings, discussing their merits in committee, debating them in the full Senate and then coming to an up-or-down vote on the Senate floor. We investigate, we debate, and then we decide."
Riiiight. What our friend Billy Frist knows is that they'll go through the motions and the conclusion is already determined. The Democrats will probably raise points about controversial decisions and look for examples of judicial activism. The Republicans will then respond with "but she was a Sunday school teacher and did really, really well in law school." They'll repeat that stuff for awhile and then the vote will fall along party lines. So, if "up or down vote" is part of a fair, investigative process, why will the results fall along party lines?
Because "up or down vote" is a smokescreen, folks. They keep saying it as if that is really all they are asking for, but when they get it, they have a confirmation and they've circumvented the minority's only recourse.
Ahh... politics! As long as they keep saying "up or down vote" until they get their way, they shouldn't have any problems with the American public thinking about it.
EDIT: Out of curiousity, I googled for "'up or down vote'" to see just how on message all of the Republicans are. Never missing a beat, it seems, they've got their little soundbite mastered. In the process, I found another blog post that had the same analysis as I did, except they have a lot more spare time on their hands.
What a joker!
The Star reports about a bank robber who dressed appropriately.
"The man triggered a 46-minute ordeal after he pulled a black hood over his head at 9:07 a.m. and walked into the Capitol Federal Savings branch at 151st Street and Mur-Len Road. He was wearing a black sweatshirt bearing the words 'SHOW ME THE MONEY.'"
So, did he have the shirt before the robbery was envisioned and it inspired him, or did he decide to rob a bank, call his friends and tell them he had to go shopping because he needed a new "robbery outfit".
You know how it is. You have a big robbery planned, you go through your closet and everything is so blah.
I wonder what he'll wear to trial.
"The man triggered a 46-minute ordeal after he pulled a black hood over his head at 9:07 a.m. and walked into the Capitol Federal Savings branch at 151st Street and Mur-Len Road. He was wearing a black sweatshirt bearing the words 'SHOW ME THE MONEY.'"
So, did he have the shirt before the robbery was envisioned and it inspired him, or did he decide to rob a bank, call his friends and tell them he had to go shopping because he needed a new "robbery outfit".
You know how it is. You have a big robbery planned, you go through your closet and everything is so blah.
I wonder what he'll wear to trial.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Voinovich is a pansy
It has been since "Time, Love and Tenderness" that we last dealt with a Bolton this vile. Bush's nomination to serve as ambassador to the UN, John Bolton, is headed to the Senate for a full vote, where even some Republicans think he really, really sucks.
Ohio Senator George Voinovich gets my nomination to be ambassador of the idealistically challenged, though. He calls Bolton "the poster child of what someone in the diplomatic corps should not be." He got that right.
Does that sound like a guy that would later vote to send this dude on to the full Senate for a vote? Well, you see, he got what I'm sure was a very cordial call from the President, which apparantly made him humble.
"I'm not so arrogant to think that I should impose my judgment on my colleagues. We owe it to the president to give Mr. Bolton an up or down vote on the floor of the United States Senate," Voinovich said.
Hey, Voinavich, imposing your opinion is your job! That is what the committee does.
"I have every faith in my colleagues," Voinovich said. "No one's really excited about him going to the United Nations."
If that is the case, why waste our time with the full vote? You bailed, man. I hope the President sends you a Christmas card this year. You earned it.
Ohio Senator George Voinovich gets my nomination to be ambassador of the idealistically challenged, though. He calls Bolton "the poster child of what someone in the diplomatic corps should not be." He got that right.
Does that sound like a guy that would later vote to send this dude on to the full Senate for a vote? Well, you see, he got what I'm sure was a very cordial call from the President, which apparantly made him humble.
"I'm not so arrogant to think that I should impose my judgment on my colleagues. We owe it to the president to give Mr. Bolton an up or down vote on the floor of the United States Senate," Voinovich said.
Hey, Voinavich, imposing your opinion is your job! That is what the committee does.
"I have every faith in my colleagues," Voinovich said. "No one's really excited about him going to the United Nations."
If that is the case, why waste our time with the full vote? You bailed, man. I hope the President sends you a Christmas card this year. You earned it.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Anarchist Soccer
Well, I wouldn't call myself an anarchist, but Anarchist Soccer sure sounds like fun. A bunch of radicals get together and play soccer in the park. No touch line, no scorekeeping, goals are made of bikes or bags or something. Sounds like a great way to spend a Sunday evening. I wonder if they'd welcome a poser like me?
831st Annual Tour de Cowtown
Now that was good times.
On Saturday, urban core bicycle shop Acme Bicycle Company hosted the 831st Annual Tour de Cowtown
This bike shop promotes grassroots cycling advocacy, bikes for transportation, vintage bicycles, handbuilt frames, fixies and riding in the city. Basically, everything that is right with the world. Their event was an interesting mix of all types of people and all kinds of bikes, some goofier than others. The scavenger hunt sent us all over town in search of trivia answers, take out menus, hotel matchbooks and road construction cones, among other things.
This shop is the real deal. A little rough around the edges and a bit gritty, yeah, but awesome. Despite feeling slow and under the weather, I had a blast at their event.
For more:
Vlad was there
Travis gives his account and Travis shares his pictures, including this one of me looking like a little child with messy hair excited about a new toy, which, in this case, was Todd Posson's chopper.
On Saturday, urban core bicycle shop Acme Bicycle Company hosted the 831st Annual Tour de Cowtown
This bike shop promotes grassroots cycling advocacy, bikes for transportation, vintage bicycles, handbuilt frames, fixies and riding in the city. Basically, everything that is right with the world. Their event was an interesting mix of all types of people and all kinds of bikes, some goofier than others. The scavenger hunt sent us all over town in search of trivia answers, take out menus, hotel matchbooks and road construction cones, among other things.
This shop is the real deal. A little rough around the edges and a bit gritty, yeah, but awesome. Despite feeling slow and under the weather, I had a blast at their event.
For more:
Vlad was there
Travis gives his account and Travis shares his pictures, including this one of me looking like a little child with messy hair excited about a new toy, which, in this case, was Todd Posson's chopper.
Z is for Lezlie Zavagnin
Well, well. A girl that a good friend of mine once characterized as my soulmate is getting some press for her efforts to support the Wizards and keep them in KC. These are a fun bunch of soccer hooligans and the Wizards are lucky to count them as supporters.
Go Lezlie and Kelsey!
By the way, it turns out she wasn't my soulmate after all.
Go Lezlie and Kelsey!
By the way, it turns out she wasn't my soulmate after all.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
The real deal
For the first time in my life, I have a full cycling team kit. I remember when I first started racing, I didn't even own a jersey. I was awed by all of the strong cyclists with their fancy bikes and their matching attire. I wondered what it would take to be on a team like that. Last year I joined a team, but a real team kit never came to be.
This weekend, I'll be racing while flying my team colors for the first time ever. It is silly, but I'm excited.
This weekend, I'll be racing while flying my team colors for the first time ever. It is silly, but I'm excited.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
CommuterDude rode them Rockies, yo.
Keith Gates, Sprint employee and dedicated bicycle commuter, maintains this site with tons of commuting tips and ultra-mileage stories that will make even the most dedicated cyclist feel like a slacker. While cruising the site today, I found his record of the 2002 Ride the Rockies and it sounds intense. Come June, I'm taking a shot at the 2005 version, which should test my legs, my lungs and my courage.
Maybe it would have been better to take up needlepoint or something.
Maybe it would have been better to take up needlepoint or something.
Legs of buttah
Well, I'm not sure what is up with me, but I'm hurting. My legs just don't want to go. I pushed through my commute this morning having to shake out my legs several times. We're talking 12 measely little miles here. I felt the same way yesterday. Hopefully another day of riding and some soccer tonight will wake them up so they are ready for racing this weekend.
Perhaps it was my weekend off that did them in. It was worth it, though, as my family came to visit and I got to play urban tour guide for my aunt and uncle who have never been here. It is always fun to spend time with family in the city and show off KC. Maybe it didn't help that I loaded up on all kinds of food this weekend without giving any thought to nutrition or actually working for it.
New rule: no matter what the circumstances, I need to ride for at least 45 minutes every day just to keep my legs awake. That shouldn't be too hard.
Okay, time for all-you-can-eat food from around the world at Sprint, in the name of diversity!
Perhaps it was my weekend off that did them in. It was worth it, though, as my family came to visit and I got to play urban tour guide for my aunt and uncle who have never been here. It is always fun to spend time with family in the city and show off KC. Maybe it didn't help that I loaded up on all kinds of food this weekend without giving any thought to nutrition or actually working for it.
New rule: no matter what the circumstances, I need to ride for at least 45 minutes every day just to keep my legs awake. That shouldn't be too hard.
Okay, time for all-you-can-eat food from around the world at Sprint, in the name of diversity!
Friday, May 06, 2005
Litigous Stubpointing?
Woah.
So, a guy goes into a custard shop where a young employee has recently sliced off the end of his finger in the mixing machine. The man buys some custard and discovers said fingertip. Man smells dollar signs and a big money lawsuit. Doctors say they can save the fingertip and reattach it. Man refuses to give it back, obviously because he wants to maintain his priceless evidence. Finger dies, window of opportunity passes, man continues to horde said finger in his freezer.
The human race has reached an all-time low on the same bus as our justice system.
You can read the story here.
From the article, a bit of light-hearted legal analysis: "The man who lost the finger has the superior claim,' said Paul Lombardo, who teaches at the University of Virginia's law school. 'It's his finger and he might be able to use it.'"
So, a guy goes into a custard shop where a young employee has recently sliced off the end of his finger in the mixing machine. The man buys some custard and discovers said fingertip. Man smells dollar signs and a big money lawsuit. Doctors say they can save the fingertip and reattach it. Man refuses to give it back, obviously because he wants to maintain his priceless evidence. Finger dies, window of opportunity passes, man continues to horde said finger in his freezer.
The human race has reached an all-time low on the same bus as our justice system.
You can read the story here.
From the article, a bit of light-hearted legal analysis: "The man who lost the finger has the superior claim,' said Paul Lombardo, who teaches at the University of Virginia's law school. 'It's his finger and he might be able to use it.'"
How about an exciting Wizards game?
This one will be better, I promise.
Dallas is one of the best teams in the MLS this year, with a potent attack featuring US National Team staple Eddie Johnson. Team this up with what has been a stingy defense and a newfound attack of its own in the Wizards and some exciting soccer should be going down at Arrowhead this weekend.
Sadly, I am going to miss it. Well, not sadly. Mommy, Daddy, Auntie and Uncle are visiting me from Nebraska. Auntie and Uncle have never been to KC before, so I get the chance to show off the city I love to more people. We'll be using the time to check out the sites of KC and take in some jazz.
So, everyone go enjoy the game a bit extra for me. It is time for the Wizards to wake up.
Dallas is one of the best teams in the MLS this year, with a potent attack featuring US National Team staple Eddie Johnson. Team this up with what has been a stingy defense and a newfound attack of its own in the Wizards and some exciting soccer should be going down at Arrowhead this weekend.
Sadly, I am going to miss it. Well, not sadly. Mommy, Daddy, Auntie and Uncle are visiting me from Nebraska. Auntie and Uncle have never been to KC before, so I get the chance to show off the city I love to more people. We'll be using the time to check out the sites of KC and take in some jazz.
So, everyone go enjoy the game a bit extra for me. It is time for the Wizards to wake up.
No points for slacking
The points standings have been updated for the Midwest Fat Tire Mountain Bike Series and after skipping out on the race in St. Louis, I'm in 3rd place. It looks like it will come down to Jason Stiger and I if I show up and race consistently. Jason and I have been splitting results and sprinting to the finish against each other since I started as a beginner two years ago. I hope that one of the two of us who developed while racing this series end up winning its most competitive and prestiguous class.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Much Adu about Boozing?
The poster-child of Major League Soccer, Freddy Adu is a 15 year old making a half-million dollar salary with D.C. United and another few million through sponsorship deals. All of this is for a kid that isn't even starting. For that much salary cap room, there is no way DC is getting their money's worth.
Now rumors from several unrelated channels are starting to explain why Freddy might not be getting minutes. Word has it that Freddy spent some quality time double-fisting drinks down the road in Lawrence the night before DC's match-up with the Wizards, which was the most boring soccer game I've ever seen.
Yeah, he is 15.
Poor Freddy. One year of super-stardom and he is already blowing up into scandals. I personally love hating on this over-rated rugrat, so I'll be ready to add some boozer references to our "child labor" chants the next time DC comes to beautiful KC. I hope you had a good time, Freddy! Keep drinking and we'll all have more fun!
Now rumors from several unrelated channels are starting to explain why Freddy might not be getting minutes. Word has it that Freddy spent some quality time double-fisting drinks down the road in Lawrence the night before DC's match-up with the Wizards, which was the most boring soccer game I've ever seen.
Yeah, he is 15.
Poor Freddy. One year of super-stardom and he is already blowing up into scandals. I personally love hating on this over-rated rugrat, so I'll be ready to add some boozer references to our "child labor" chants the next time DC comes to beautiful KC. I hope you had a good time, Freddy! Keep drinking and we'll all have more fun!
Forza Medfords!
News of our latest outing in 3-on-3:
After scrapping out a tie through sloppy play a week ago, the Rock Shocking Medfords showed up with good form to defeat the league favorite Sprint corporate challenge team 8-6. Showing improved team play and strong shooting to compliment their stingy defense, the Medfords could become a force to reckon with in the league.
Playing without substitutes, the Medfords still kept up the pace to utilize their speed and fitness advantage. Showing her aggressive and tenacious defending, Sarah Doyle kept the pressure on KCCC runners all game, often freeing the ball into space and playing it with creativity. One play at right midfield found Doyle forcing the ball past a strong marker. Falling to the pitch after aggressive head-to-head posturing for a 50/50 ball, Doyle recovered to take a solo run to the center and put away the goal. On another strong play, Doyle freed the ball and fed a well-placed through ball toward the feet of an on-running Matthew Staub, who sent a shot just wide of the far post.
Staub roamed the pitch through much of the game, running the distance to chase down and neutralize counterattacks. On one such effort, Staub cleared the ball into space and beat two oncoming defenders to move along the flank. As pressure built from the inside, Staub made a run for the corner and placed a cross to the feet of an in-position Doyle, who was making a perfectly timed run and had made her way behind the defense. Doyle met the ball at her feet and placed an on-target one-time shot to tally for the Medfords.
Standout Jace Hansen helped control the momentum. After a strong scoring run by the KCCC side, Hansen took the midfield pass from Staub and weaved through the defense on a solo run, finished with a strong shot on goal to immediately neutralize the opposing side. Hansen’s footwork has the KCCC side guessing for much of the game as he neutralized his marker on numerous plays. After tallying 3 times for the Medfords, Hansen continued his strong play falling back to defend the lead, keeping the side out of danger by clearing the ball upfield with precision passes to Doyle and Staub, who both tallied goals in the closing minutes.
The KCCC team keyed off of Medford mistakes to net many of their goals. In one instance, Staub came from the central defender position to run up the left flank on a combination from midfielder Hansen. Hansen was dispossessed at midfield and neither player was able to return to the back line to prevent a goal. In another instance, Staub dropped back to clear a KCCC attack out of danger. Stepping back to make a clearance, contact was ruled in the box for an automatic goal. KCCC also benefited from an own goal as Hansen stepped into the path of an opposing shot, which ricocheted and found its way into the goal.
The Rock Shocking Medfords return to action next Tuesday against Tax Attack. Kickoff is at 6:30 at Satchel Paige Field on the Sprint campus.
Rock Shocking Medfords Stats:
Goals/Assists/Fouls
Jace Hansen: 3/2/0
Sarah Doyle: 3/1/1
Matthew Staub: 2/4/0
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Unintended consequences
I'm always harping about how people don't think about the unintended consequences of their actions and how the true cost of our economic choices is not reflected in the prices we pay. Just fill up that tank, I can afford it. Throw out that old junk, they'll take it. Build me that big new house, I deserve it.
Well, I guess I'm not the only one trying to understand the extranalities.
A new site called Wal-Mart Watch is underway. It aims to quantify what Wal-Mart really costs us in terms of healthcare and other assistance for their mostly impoverished employees -- the cogs in their money making machine. I don't even want to think about what they are doing to communities with their sprawling crap-hole stores with massive parking lots.
Speaking of damage to communities, Omaha's iconic Ranch Bowl could be giving way to a Wal-Mart. This venue is well-known in Omaha and has been a part of the city's amazingly rich live music scene. To make it part of the continued destruction of 72nd Street would be a shame.
Well, I guess I'm not the only one trying to understand the extranalities.
A new site called Wal-Mart Watch is underway. It aims to quantify what Wal-Mart really costs us in terms of healthcare and other assistance for their mostly impoverished employees -- the cogs in their money making machine. I don't even want to think about what they are doing to communities with their sprawling crap-hole stores with massive parking lots.
Speaking of damage to communities, Omaha's iconic Ranch Bowl could be giving way to a Wal-Mart. This venue is well-known in Omaha and has been a part of the city's amazingly rich live music scene. To make it part of the continued destruction of 72nd Street would be a shame.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Is it a dream?
Holy crap, I'm in heaven. The good people at Acme Bicycle Company, which has got to be the coolest shop on the planet, are bringing us a festival-like alley kat bike race in the heart of the city. We're talking about an alley race, scavenger hunt and various side shows, like the track stand competition I'm jazzed for. This is going to be fun.
There is a swap meet the next day. There is also a Midwest Fat Tire Series race on Sunday, 275 miles from home. Why do all the cool things happen at the same time? It would have made sense to go early and pre-ride, or stay late and ride more. This is supposed to be an epic trail. Will it be worth it if I only go to race? Will anyone come with me if I stay around for another day or two? Do I want to go alone? Dare I skip yet another series race and jeopordize my point standings?
I ask lots of questions.
I have two goals this season. One is to win Rapture in Misery. The other is to win the series as an expert. Playing around with an alley cat race wasn't one of them, but it sounds far more enjoyable and suited for me than the others.
So, goals or fun like I didn't even know I could have? Oh, the places the bike can go.
There is a swap meet the next day. There is also a Midwest Fat Tire Series race on Sunday, 275 miles from home. Why do all the cool things happen at the same time? It would have made sense to go early and pre-ride, or stay late and ride more. This is supposed to be an epic trail. Will it be worth it if I only go to race? Will anyone come with me if I stay around for another day or two? Do I want to go alone? Dare I skip yet another series race and jeopordize my point standings?
I ask lots of questions.
I have two goals this season. One is to win Rapture in Misery. The other is to win the series as an expert. Playing around with an alley cat race wasn't one of them, but it sounds far more enjoyable and suited for me than the others.
So, goals or fun like I didn't even know I could have? Oh, the places the bike can go.
Got spare time?
See a bunch of mountain bikers get derailed, mostly because of my big mouth. Good times. I laughed, I cried, I wasted time.
Friday, April 29, 2005
The Greater Kansas City Bicycle Federation
It was a pleasant surprise to see that Kansas City now has its own dedicated bicycle advocacy group: The Greater Kansas City Bicycle Federation
The website isn't much now, but I look forward to learning more. Of all the riding I do, it is riding in the city that I love the most. I would also love to help remove the hurdles that prevent others from experiencing the joys of bicycle commuting like I do.
Check them out and join the fight. I know I will be.
The website isn't much now, but I look forward to learning more. Of all the riding I do, it is riding in the city that I love the most. I would also love to help remove the hurdles that prevent others from experiencing the joys of bicycle commuting like I do.
Check them out and join the fight. I know I will be.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Winning 11
I have a new-found love of soccer, a sport that is just gaining traction in the US. While there were soccer leagues and my grade school had a soccer team, it was a sport that really hadn't made it to my small Nebraska town when I was growing up. At that point, I probably would have been too scared to try it anyway.
As I was exploring the historic Strawberry Hill neighborhood on my bike last night and admiring the amazing views, I came across a street that dead-ended into a steep drop-off. At the bottom was a park with tattered, spotty grass and two soccer goals. I put a foot down from this perch high above the ground to watch a full 11 on 11 soccer match. While we silly gringos can't even get 5 people pulled away from the TV to play the awkward herky-jerky game of American football, these hispanics had a full contingent out on this makeshift field. There were no lines -- just two goals and half-dead grass -- but for them, it was the perfect soccer pitch.
This was some of the most entertaining soccer I'd ever seen. These guys were awesome. They loved the game. They played creatively. Shots were powerful, crosses were on target, through balls met their runners perfectly. The chatter of Spanish being called back and forth was constant. The play was very competitive, but friendly.
At that point, I realized I could never understand soccer like these guys do. They love it. They live it. While most people I know are racing to get that plasma TV or new car, these guys got together to go down the street and play soccer in their worn out running shoes. I should turn over the new soccer cleats I bought to play on the Sprint league. I don't deserve them.
All in all, it was just an awesome show of community. In exploring the city, it seems like these low-income, often minority areas are the only ones that feel like real communities. They aren't attractive markets for the big retailers to come in and assault the streetscape, so enterprising locals have fixed up old buildings to proudly open small shops and cafes. Small, dense and pedestrian friendly "main street" districts are maintained as many people don't have the means to travel anywhere else. Without that plasma screen TV, people are on the streets talking to one another, playing sports or just relaxing. I've visited tons of neighborhoods in my explorations. I love them, and none of them feel more real than these small, proud clusters.
And you know what? I bet those people lead happier, fuller lives than most of the people I meet everyday. I bet that life of working hard for your family and enjoying the simpler things out of necessity makes for some amazing character.
I could only dream of being that good at soccer, and I could only dream of being that free spirited.
I think I'd like to have season tickets in that spot overlooking the park. You get to see so much more than a soccer match.
As I was exploring the historic Strawberry Hill neighborhood on my bike last night and admiring the amazing views, I came across a street that dead-ended into a steep drop-off. At the bottom was a park with tattered, spotty grass and two soccer goals. I put a foot down from this perch high above the ground to watch a full 11 on 11 soccer match. While we silly gringos can't even get 5 people pulled away from the TV to play the awkward herky-jerky game of American football, these hispanics had a full contingent out on this makeshift field. There were no lines -- just two goals and half-dead grass -- but for them, it was the perfect soccer pitch.
This was some of the most entertaining soccer I'd ever seen. These guys were awesome. They loved the game. They played creatively. Shots were powerful, crosses were on target, through balls met their runners perfectly. The chatter of Spanish being called back and forth was constant. The play was very competitive, but friendly.
At that point, I realized I could never understand soccer like these guys do. They love it. They live it. While most people I know are racing to get that plasma TV or new car, these guys got together to go down the street and play soccer in their worn out running shoes. I should turn over the new soccer cleats I bought to play on the Sprint league. I don't deserve them.
All in all, it was just an awesome show of community. In exploring the city, it seems like these low-income, often minority areas are the only ones that feel like real communities. They aren't attractive markets for the big retailers to come in and assault the streetscape, so enterprising locals have fixed up old buildings to proudly open small shops and cafes. Small, dense and pedestrian friendly "main street" districts are maintained as many people don't have the means to travel anywhere else. Without that plasma screen TV, people are on the streets talking to one another, playing sports or just relaxing. I've visited tons of neighborhoods in my explorations. I love them, and none of them feel more real than these small, proud clusters.
And you know what? I bet those people lead happier, fuller lives than most of the people I meet everyday. I bet that life of working hard for your family and enjoying the simpler things out of necessity makes for some amazing character.
I could only dream of being that good at soccer, and I could only dream of being that free spirited.
I think I'd like to have season tickets in that spot overlooking the park. You get to see so much more than a soccer match.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Confessions of the repressed public
Spending countless hours exploring the streets of the KC metro area, I encounter all kinds of interesting people and see things in more detail and with more intimacy than most anyone else. I think this relationship with the city is why I love it so much and feel as if I'm connected with it.
In a string of a week, two experiences are leading me to believe that KC needs more lovin'.
The first occured on the Fairfax bridge crossing the Missouri River from the bottoms of KCK to the floodplain of Riverside, near the Argosy casino. This bridge gets my heartrate up everytime, mostly because it scares the crap out of me. It is narrow, spans the wide river and is completely unlit. The edges are low barricades designed to stop cars from plumeting into the muddy Mo, but it looks like they'd stop my bike and I'd flop right off and take an extremely high dive if one of the always-speeding cars decided to crowd me.
So, needless to say, I didn't need anything else distracting me on the bridge.
As I approached the apex of the bridge the other night, I noticed a homeless man crossing and coming in my direction. I thought nothing of it as I pass transients all over the place, especially because I love exploring blighted areas and railroad corridors. I moved to give this guy space as I approached. When I was even with him, he stopped, lunged at me and screamed this sage advice:
"Get fucked!"
I'm sure I probably looked a little underloved with that look of hasty anxiety crossing the bridge, so I understand completely why he was worried about me.
Really, the state of the homeless is sad. Conservatives scream "get a job" and then move to the suburbs where they are out of the sight of the problem. Most of these people that I've talked to probably couldn't get a job. They need help. They are all mentally ill, sometimes completely unaware of their surroundings. Guess what, though -- care for our mentally ill isn't an issue that garners a lot of political traction, so our cities will keep hiding our crazy homeless. I guess that is okay, as long as they keep giving me good advice.
On a side note, DO NOT GIVE MONEY TO PANHANDLERS. It exacerbates the problem, encourages their confrontational behavior and keeps them coming, which drives away visitors in areas that need the support. If you feel guilty, give to homeless charities.
----
The other repressed citizen of our great city was a little more traditional. I was making my way down Main in the Crossroads after a long ride exploring KCK, avoiding the Fairfax bridge and checking out the sprawling Cerner campus for the first time, and I was on my homestretch. Speaking of Cerner, did they really have to take up THAT MUCH space that close to the heart of the city? That could have been developed into dense housing and retail, but instead you climb your way through a labryinth where every building is several hundred feet from the next, connected by winding roads. This place is worse than Sprint considering the employment numbers. Cool looking buildings, though.
Anyway, I digress. So, I'm rolling down to a red light at 18th and Main when a group of people leaving Bar Natasha is crossing the street. One of the girls, who is clearly the most hobbled by the tasty libations available at Natasha, greets me with a sultry "hey, biker boy". She then goes on to tell me that she is feeling very neglected in the "boobie region". In the unlikely event that I had forgotten what boobies were (not the case), she gestured to the aforementioned boobie region, ensuring that the boobies had my undivided attention.
I inquired as to why she felt so neglected and she responded that nobody had been touching them. While I wish I would have come up with a smooth response like "you are quite lovely, I'm sure EVERYONE is wanting to touch them," I simply muttered "are they supposed to be?" Good one.
At that point, her friends, who were clearly annoyed with her, encouraged me to ride away quickly, so I did.
I wish you the best of luck, boobie girl. Thanks for bringing life to the streets of downtown KC on a weeknight.
In a string of a week, two experiences are leading me to believe that KC needs more lovin'.
The first occured on the Fairfax bridge crossing the Missouri River from the bottoms of KCK to the floodplain of Riverside, near the Argosy casino. This bridge gets my heartrate up everytime, mostly because it scares the crap out of me. It is narrow, spans the wide river and is completely unlit. The edges are low barricades designed to stop cars from plumeting into the muddy Mo, but it looks like they'd stop my bike and I'd flop right off and take an extremely high dive if one of the always-speeding cars decided to crowd me.
So, needless to say, I didn't need anything else distracting me on the bridge.
As I approached the apex of the bridge the other night, I noticed a homeless man crossing and coming in my direction. I thought nothing of it as I pass transients all over the place, especially because I love exploring blighted areas and railroad corridors. I moved to give this guy space as I approached. When I was even with him, he stopped, lunged at me and screamed this sage advice:
"Get fucked!"
I'm sure I probably looked a little underloved with that look of hasty anxiety crossing the bridge, so I understand completely why he was worried about me.
Really, the state of the homeless is sad. Conservatives scream "get a job" and then move to the suburbs where they are out of the sight of the problem. Most of these people that I've talked to probably couldn't get a job. They need help. They are all mentally ill, sometimes completely unaware of their surroundings. Guess what, though -- care for our mentally ill isn't an issue that garners a lot of political traction, so our cities will keep hiding our crazy homeless. I guess that is okay, as long as they keep giving me good advice.
On a side note, DO NOT GIVE MONEY TO PANHANDLERS. It exacerbates the problem, encourages their confrontational behavior and keeps them coming, which drives away visitors in areas that need the support. If you feel guilty, give to homeless charities.
----
The other repressed citizen of our great city was a little more traditional. I was making my way down Main in the Crossroads after a long ride exploring KCK, avoiding the Fairfax bridge and checking out the sprawling Cerner campus for the first time, and I was on my homestretch. Speaking of Cerner, did they really have to take up THAT MUCH space that close to the heart of the city? That could have been developed into dense housing and retail, but instead you climb your way through a labryinth where every building is several hundred feet from the next, connected by winding roads. This place is worse than Sprint considering the employment numbers. Cool looking buildings, though.
Anyway, I digress. So, I'm rolling down to a red light at 18th and Main when a group of people leaving Bar Natasha is crossing the street. One of the girls, who is clearly the most hobbled by the tasty libations available at Natasha, greets me with a sultry "hey, biker boy". She then goes on to tell me that she is feeling very neglected in the "boobie region". In the unlikely event that I had forgotten what boobies were (not the case), she gestured to the aforementioned boobie region, ensuring that the boobies had my undivided attention.
I inquired as to why she felt so neglected and she responded that nobody had been touching them. While I wish I would have come up with a smooth response like "you are quite lovely, I'm sure EVERYONE is wanting to touch them," I simply muttered "are they supposed to be?" Good one.
At that point, her friends, who were clearly annoyed with her, encouraged me to ride away quickly, so I did.
I wish you the best of luck, boobie girl. Thanks for bringing life to the streets of downtown KC on a weeknight.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Shocking
The co-ed soccer team I endeavored to create on the Sprint 3 on 3 league, known as the "Rock Shocking Medfords", had its first outing on the pitch tonight and battled to a 5-5 draw. I sprained my thumb by putting my hand down to prevent a fall. Good call!
On another note, I am undecided as to whether I should go to St. Louis to race this weekend. As of now, I have no bicycle as my fork is at Rock Shox being repaired.
Come on, Shocks, can we win one?
On another note, I am undecided as to whether I should go to St. Louis to race this weekend. As of now, I have no bicycle as my fork is at Rock Shox being repaired.
Come on, Shocks, can we win one?
Friday, April 22, 2005
Happy Earth Day
Check out this slide show in honor of Earth Day. It is shocking and sad.
Man, I'm on a kick this Earth Day. It makes me really hate being alive and taxing the planet, though I'm trying to be as responsible as I can. Sad that most people don't even think about it. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose. Out of sight, out of mind.
I'm trying hard not to be too snobby to the sprinkler salesmen that came for Earth Day today, or the Suburban drivers or the urban sprawlers.
Sad Earth Day.
Man, I'm on a kick this Earth Day. It makes me really hate being alive and taxing the planet, though I'm trying to be as responsible as I can. Sad that most people don't even think about it. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose. Out of sight, out of mind.
I'm trying hard not to be too snobby to the sprinkler salesmen that came for Earth Day today, or the Suburban drivers or the urban sprawlers.
Sad Earth Day.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
The big green box
Well, I did it. I applied. Might not get me anywhere, but you have to keep trying.
Downtown, you know you want me.
Downtown, you know you want me.
Earth is for parking
Sprint Campus, the natural place to celebrate the health of the planet.
Preach on, little bicycle.
The subtle power of 49
In a tasty bit of irony, Sprint is transforming its not-long-ago-Kansas-prairie sprawling campus into a big ol' Earth Day party. Part of the fun is showing off fuel efficient cars, as if the extra 20 miles per gallon would suddenly solve our car problem. I suppose that, in a place where the only meaningful connections to the outside world are roads, cars seem to be our primary concern.
So, in one of the high traffic spots in the middle of the Sprint campus, a shiny new Honda Civic Hybrid sits. Its subtle socio-political statement reaches hundreds every day in the form of the EPA estimates on the sticker. 49 miles per gallon highway. That has to reach even the most short sighted, self-absorbed corporate minions. Nevermind pollution, urban destruction, oil dependence, terrorism, et al. We're talking serious savings!
Yup, that car just sits there, unintrusively saying its part.
Preach on, little Civic.
So, in one of the high traffic spots in the middle of the Sprint campus, a shiny new Honda Civic Hybrid sits. Its subtle socio-political statement reaches hundreds every day in the form of the EPA estimates on the sticker. 49 miles per gallon highway. That has to reach even the most short sighted, self-absorbed corporate minions. Nevermind pollution, urban destruction, oil dependence, terrorism, et al. We're talking serious savings!
Yup, that car just sits there, unintrusively saying its part.
Preach on, little Civic.
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