Life on the bike

After my last post several people have asked me why I continue biking if I don't think it helps the environment or my pocket book. And last Wednesday when a misguided fellow, who apparently hasn't been reading my blog, tossed some garbage at me while I was riding my bike home, I started wondering; Why do I do this?
It is somewhat of a miracle considering initially the one rule my parents gave to my babysitter was I had to spend at least a half hour learning to ride my bike. I still remember Valerie Etchel trying to talk me into riding to the end of the street. I would argue that my parents didn't like me riding to the end of the street, because of all the traffic on the end of our street. Looking back I realize this wasn't the best excuse, seeing how I stayed on the sidewalk and never even ventured out onto the road. That, and the fact that we lived on a dead end. And had a total of about 7 cars drive on our street per day. I never even took the training wheels off until my uncle brad (yes, the same Uncle Brad who would have me sit in the back of his trailer so branches wouldn't fall out, the same one who would have me fix roughs on three story houses with a 45% slant, the same one who once told me to watch out while throwing a chain saw in my general direction) told me he would hold the back of my bike while I rode up the street. I wish I could say the feeling of finally riding without training wheels was a liberating one, but it was actually just as terrifying as realizing that uncle Brad actually wasn't holding onto the bike or as terrifying as the crash that followed that realization. No, my biking career didn't start to promising. But for some reason in junior high I wanted to get a mountain bike. Looking back the only reason I would want to buy such a ridiculous item was that Greg LeMond had been on the cover of Boy's Life. Whatever the reason for wanting it was, I must have really wanted it because, my parents remarkably got it for me. Now to many of my readers this may seem a run of everyday events, but getting something from parents who were struggling to make ends meet with 7 kids is usually considered a miracle like unto the feeding of the 5 thousand.
And shortly after getting it I got to go on a bike ride with my scout troop. It was a 50 mile ride (25 miles to our camp site, and 25 miles back the next day). After that ride I considered myself to be a member of that elite league where only a select few made it (namely Greg LeMond, Lance Armstrong, and my scouting troop). I had plans to continue making 50 miles treks for the remainder of my life, but for one reason or another the bike got tossed aside and probably didn't get another 50 miles on the tires for the remainder of it's life.
But in high school a friend of mine was a mountain biker, I went with him once and I was hooked. I quickly started laying money aside so I could purchase a new mountain bike.
Eventually I saved up about $250 in excess founds, and I headed up to the highlander bike shop. The reason I went to the Highlander shop was a member of our stake owned it, Doug Moffit. Since Doug was a member of our stake I didn't really question his suggestion of bicylces. But I was a little skeptical when he showed me a shiny blue Nishiki bike. Most of you have probably never heard of Nishiki bikes, indeed I hadn't either. In fact my friend had mentioned several good brands of mountain bikes, and Nishiki wasn't on the list. I mentioned this to Doug and he was quick to point out the reason my friend hadn't heard of Nishiki bikes was because he was American (as it turns out my friend was indeed an American) so I didn't argue the point. Had I thought for a second I would have realized that Doug was also American, and one quick look at the bike would have revealed the large American flag that said Made in the USA across it. And an astute observer may have asked "so in what country would they have heard about Nishiki". Since that little trip to the highlander shop I have been to Germany, Japan, and China yet I still haven't seen a Nishiki bike. But at the time I still wasn't very astute. So I bought the bike and decided to take it on it's maiden voyage up to my grandparents house. My dad drove off ahead and I started the trek. Unfortunately I didn't really have a good route to get there, and so I took (what I would later find out was the worst route possible) 27th up to my grandparents. This is where I was introduced to the pure hatred Salt Lakians have for bikers, particularly inexperienced ones. After riding for over an hour I arrived at my destination, thinking I had just made the worst purchase of my life. My dad gave me a ride home, and I wondered if I would ever ride the bike again.
A few months later though I was faced with a slight conundrum. The problem was I loved swimming, and I wanted to continue doing it throughout the summer, but my parents wouldn't be able to provide the taxi service I required (I lived about 15 min away, on the freeway, from my school). So if I wanted to swim I would have to ride my bike to the pool. I still remember getting up at 4 that first morning, just enough time to do my paper route and then head up to school. It was about 15 miles away going up (and I mean up. Mt. Olympus is not very merciful to bikers) I basically had the whole road to myself. I think sometime between 4:30 and 5:30 one of those summer mornings I feel in love with biking. But like any relationship you have to keep working at it, or before you know it you don't even know the person sleeping in your garage...well, maybe that doesn't apply to all relationships.
To insure my biking relationship didn't go stagnate I decided to take it to the next level. And, as circumstance would have it, I did so with the help of my Uncle Brad. Brad after graduating from high school had decided to move to hawaii, while there he fell in love with the women who would become my aunt, and the bike that he would eventually give to me. The bike had two names; the Honolulu express, and the '77 special. Both coming from the licensed sticker it had from Honolulu in '77. Although, my roommate Jared tried to change the name to the bikecetomy, mostly because the only padding on the seat was a small piece of leather Brad had taped on, and also...well the rest of the story we will have to save for another time.
Typically a fairly stoic person, few things get me choked up, and as a general rule I don't grow attached to any possessions, but just thinking about the '77 special still requires me to go grab a kleenex. There are two reasons for that. The first was due to my ignorance upon receiving the bike. After Brad gave me the bike I let it sit outside for a month or two, when I finally looked at the bike the tires where flat and looked completely tattered. So being the ignorant person I was decided to to pull the tires off and replace the tires and tubes. I quickly realized the tires weren't coming off as easy as I had thought, and what was even stranger was the tire didn't seem to even have a tube at all. But being ignorant as I was, I continued scrapping the tire off of the wheel. I bought new tires and tubes and the Honolulu Express was back on the road. It took about 2 months before I realized my crime. Brad asked about the bike, I told him how much I was liking it. He then asked if I liked the tubeless tires. There was a long awkward pauses followed by me saying "yeah, it is riding great". I couldn't believe it, I ripped out tubeless tires! I felt sick to my stomach...and still do anytime the memories of the '77 special come back.
Once I had the new tires on the Honolulu Express I decided to take it for a spin. Originally the plan was to just take it for a spin, with no particular route in mind. It was the middle of summer so one would think I would have brought a water battle with me, but with no destination I wasn't sure I was going to be out all that long. After wandering through Salt Lake for about 45 min. I found myself at Hogle Zoo (the base of Emigration Canyon). I paused at started to consider how I was going to make my way home when I saw (as strong bad would say) "a challenger". Actually it was a whole team of challengers, in full biking gear. I couldn't see them well, but I could see them getting close, and fast. This was my chance to go head to head with what appeared to be real bikers. I couldn't back down to the competition, so I started to make it up the canyon. I don't remember if I had initially planned after starting if I would go up the whole canyon or not. I had only been all the way through the canyon once and that was at night, and years ago at that. I also had a friend who lived up the canyon. I knew her house was a ways up, but I didn't know if her house marked the half way point, the three quaters mark, or if it was considered base camp. After what seemed like for ever I finally passed by my friends house. I was sure my legs would give out at any time, but seeing the team of bikers behind me kept me motivated to continue riding. Finally I came to a very steep hill, I had been biking uphill constantly for the last 2-3 hours the grade had been around 5%, but now it was more like 15. My legs couldn't go any more. Now with improvements in modern technology they have instruments that could have tracked my movements to let you know that I was indeed moving forward, but this was still in the last melenium and those instruments weren't available, so when the team of bikers passed me they undoubtedly thought I was just standing still. So perhaps they thought it was a tree talking when I asked them, in the weakest most feeble voice I have ever used, "How...muuuuch...fuuurrthhhher?". Whatever they thought I, a tree, or one of the flies who had found his final resting spot on my helmet had asked the question, they chose not to answer and they just biked on by. I was certain I was going to die there somewhere in emigration canyon. When just then I turned the bend and saw the team of bikers standing next to their bikes resting. I had reached the top! I very slowly started making my way toward the group of bikers hoping they would spare me a few drops of water. But, as soon as they saw me coming toward them, they hopped back on their bikes and started on the road toward Park City. I tried to yell out to them as they left, but it was to no avail. In the past 27 years I have met a lot of bikers most of which would do anything to help a fellow biker/anger passing car driver, but I am fairly certain those guys must have been commi's who figured the government was going to send someone to help me.
I took the next few minutes to look out over the valley to see my achievement. Then fearing I was on the verge of dehydration, I began my trip down. When I finally made it to This is the Place park (the place where Brigham Young declared, yes you guessed it, "This is the Place") I was estatic. I found the visiting center. I could see a drinking fountain just inside one of the doors so I parked my bike just outside and ran in to get a drink. I nearly died when I saw the "Out of Order" sign pasted across the fountain. Not wanting to leave my bike unattended I hurried on hoping to find a park with a fountain near by, or perhaps there would be a fountain at the zoo.
I had no such luck, and not seeing anything coming out of the canyon I continued home as fast as I could. I was starting to loose focus and was not thinking clearly at all when I saw sugar house park which after carefully combing it in it's entirety I did not find one drinking fountain. I say I was not thinking clearly because I looked everywhere except for in the large bathroom facility in the center of the park, which I found out later does have a fountain. I guess this is just a long way of saying when I made it to Liberty park and drank from the fountain for a good 10 minutes, it was the best water I had ever tasted.
After that trip the '77 special and I would make 4 more trips to the top of emigration canyon, I was never as tired, they never took as long, and I was never that thirsty again.
But that brings me to the second reason I get sad when I think about the Honolulu Express. After leaving on my mission I let my brother Gardner use the Honolulu Express, and my roommate Jared use my mountain bike. Sadly they were both stolen while I was in Germany. I don't really miss the mountain bike at all, but I still think of the good days I spent on the '77 Express.
I replaced it with a very nice road bike a few years later, it was never quite the same as the '77 special though. But that bike gave me a little more courage and biking prowess. It was on that bike when I started biking daily during rush hour on busy streets. It was there were I was reintroduced to the hatred Salt Lakians have for bikers. I had garbage thrown at me for the first time, had people try to run me off the rode, and eventually on my last day of work (and the day before I was to compete in another triathlon) I was hit. It was rather funny, I was hit on my last day of work. Which was ironic since the only 2 days of work I was ever late for was my first and last day.
It has taken me several years to buckle down and get a new bike and start riding again, but I am happy to say the bike and I have reconciled our differences, and I once again am loving life on the bike.
So why do I ride if I don't feel it is saving me any money or helping the environment? Because I love the bike.

Cost of Green

Go Green, Save Your Green.

That was the slogan in our corporate newsletter this week. It seems everyone at my work is trying to become more "Green". And as a result every week there is an article from someone preaching the gospel of green. This weeks installment had to do with making your commute more green. It gave suggestions such as Carpooling, riding the bus (that doesn't come within one mile of our work), or, the best option, riding a bike. Several years ago, when I considered myself to be somewhat of an environmentalist, if someone would have asked me why I bike everywhere, I would have been quick to explain how I was saving the environment or saving money. But, seeing how I now longer consider myself to be an *idiot, I cringe whenever someone suggest that the reason I am biking is to become more green.
I realize there are possibly a few people out there (apparently more than a few at my work) who still consider themselves to be mentalist, so I will explain why biking to work is not the best way to make the world green.
Today it took me approximately 2 hours and 30 minutes to ride to and from work. Covering a total of 26.5 miles, which by happenstance is the same amount of miles my car gets to the gallon. Earlier today I heard the average gas price was $3.50. So by biking today I saved $3.50. What it cost me was 1 hour 54 minutes (it takes me 12 minutes to drive to work, and 24 minutes to get back). It also cost me a sore bum, having to be yelled at by passing drivers (they must have forgotten to read my blog last week), and narrowly avoiding being hit twice. Actually my story here is somewhat normal, the average commute is 15 miles and 26 minutes (slightly more than mine).
I work at an engineering company where the average salary is around $70,000. Which translates to approximately $35 an hour, so that 2 hour ride is costing an employee $70. If an employee is really serious about making the world more green he would drive to work (saving $70) and buy a tree, the next day he drives he could use the 2 hours to plant the tree. Keeping this up it wouldn't take anytime before he was "carbon negative".
Some people may argue there is another benefit to riding a bike, exercise. In my case if I don't ride my bike to work then I typically will go run on town lake. It takes me a total of 45 minutes to run 4.3 miles on town lake (that includes the drive to the lake, warm-up, and warm-down). When I do that I get a much better work out because I don't have to worry about getting run over, I don't have to stop constantly at traffic lights, and I don't have exhaust being blown at me (that isn't to mention not having garbage thrown at you, being yelled out, getting flats, or getting clipped by cars).
Another argument is that "well, no one is going to take all that money and plant trees". I would agree, when it comes right down to it, most people aren't *idiots. But them working on just about anything would be almost as good as them planting trees. If they are working (particularly if they are engineers) they are going to be helping grow that economic pie. And the real reason we have people writing articles about going green is due to how much green we have. Because you can bet your bicycle no one is worrying about how to make their commute more green in Zimbabwe.

*a.k.a. environmentalist

Make it stop

Six months ago I was glued to youtube. Anytime there was a debate I didn't want to miss a second (yes, I suffered through all of the democratic debates. Although I did enjoy when Tim Russet had to tell Gov. Richardson he wasn't dealing with funny money). I hung on every word (well, at least when Ron Paul was talking). My political engine was fueled and revving in the red zone. Yet, this week when a co-worker asked if I would be watching the debates I cringed...When will it end!
By now, I, and probably you too, am sick of hearing how the bitter poor are clinging to Hillary. And the elite snobs are avoiding the sniper fire by placing their audacity in Obama.
I used to look forward to reading the Op-Ed columns in the NY Times. Now I shutter at having to read what Hillary did to destroy her chances or why everyone loves/is sick of Obama.
Something needs to be done. First, I was going to submit a bill to congress putting an moratorium on all presidential election reporting until August 1, but then I remembered I'm not a democrat. So to avoid being a hypocrite I have come up with another plan. Instead of changing the government, I will change the world. I hereby declare the beginning of the Badical Sabbatical. Yes, that is right, a sabbatical from any presidential election jibber jabber until August 1, 2008. Seeing how this blog is basically the trend center for the internet and web 2.0, I think it will only be a matter of a few weeks until the NY Times follows suite. My fellow bloggians of the world UNITE! be badical, join the sabbatical.

Solving the Vagabond mystery

My good friend Bryant has me all figured out.

Who cares about the poor?

President Bush released his tax information today and the Clintons released theirs earlier in the week. Hillary after finding out she is in the top 1% of tax payers said she was "surprised", but also, she didn't want the Bush tax cuts and she didn't need them. Regardless if she wanted them or not she got them. As a result she and the president had a little extra pocket change. So how did they use all of the extra cash? Well they didn't release how each nickel and dime was spent, but they did release how much they gave to charity. Now over the past 8 years the Clinton's have made an average of $13.6 million a year. They have also given approximately $1.25 million to charity each of those years. Now Bush made just over $920,000 this last year, and gave $165,000.
So clearly the Clintons are giving more, but if you look at the percentage of their income donated Bush gives almost double what the Clintons do (17.9% compared to 9.15%). Perhaps Milton Friedman was right when he said you can tell more about a person by what they do with their own money than you can by what they do with the money of others.

UPDATE: Obama just released his tax info and he took the cake. He gave about 5.7% of his income to charity last year.

ANOTHER UPDATE: McCain released his tax info today. He decided to give the cake away, donating over 27% in 2007.

ANOTHER UPDATE PART II: Biden, the true egalitarian gave between .09% and .31%

Shamu comes to Austin

At the beginning of April I made a goal to cut sweets out of my diet. Initially this seemed like an easy task. All the money I could save by not purchasing sweets, could mean I would save a grundle. I quickly have come to realize the problem isn't the sweets I am buying, but the ones being thrown at me. In the past 10 days I have been offered cookies, cakes, brownies, soda, twinkles, banana bread, and muffins. An average of 2 times a day I get offered sweets, now I wish I could say I turned them all down, but as Paul says "the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak". So it is time we all started helping each other out. Stop taking treats to work. You may think your doing all your co-workers a favor, but your not. So unless you're trying to make your office look like sea world I suggest you start saving money, and all of your friends and co-workers waist lines. Next time someone ask you to bring treats for an activity tell them you'll do one better, and bring nothing.

Don't feed the bears....or the bikers

Wednesday morning while heading over to meet a friend for my morning run, I realized my Camry was in the red zone (not like in the old spice commercials, but on the thermostat. For the record my car doesn't make out with other cars.) and smoking out of the hood. So sadly I took another trip down south to visit my friend Gary Krutsinger. Now I've planned on riding my bike to work for sometime now, but I never had enough motivation to do it. But seeing how my car was spending some quality time with Gary, I figured now was as good of time as any.
Thursday was the first day I rode a bike to work since I was hit riding my bike to work at the Cottonwood Country Club. It really took me back to those good old days of riding to work in the dark while the sane Americans are still sound asleep, and then riding home while those same Americans curse at me and throw garbage from their cars. Yes, there is nothing quite like riding a bike. There is something about it that makes me feel alive, perhaps it is because driving a car makes me feel like a robot. But, it has become apparent that many of you robots driving cars don't know how to act around cyclist. In an attempt to help smooth your future interactions with this rare breed of lunatics we call bikers, here are a few tips.
1. Approach with caution. Most cyclist are just as afraid of you as you are of them.
2. Do not pet the cyclist (by pet I mean punch). Perhaps it looks like they would enjoy a friendly smack as you drive by going 50 mph, but, turns out, not the case.
3. Do not attempt to feed the cyclist. A common mistake for robots to make is to confuse cyclist for environmentalist. And although environmentalist enjoy eating garbage to help the enviroment, cyclist do not. So when driving past a cyclist please avoid the temptation to toss your garbage at them, but instead save it for the next time you are having lunch with the Sierra Club.

By following these three simple steps robots in cars and loonies on cycles can finally learn to coexist. And who knows perhaps we can even save the starving members of the Sierra Club.

Free your X

Last week a few of my friends were sitting around chatting when one mentioned he had seen a "chump" hitting on his x-girlfriend. From this encounter he had decided the perpetrator was a schmuck, and then informed the rest of us in the room "in case you didn't know [His x-girlfriend] is off limits". I have bumped into this circumstance quite a bit here in Texas and, I have to say, I HATE IT! Listen, memo to all jerkfaces who think they have some type of control over who dates their past girlfriends...unless a girl has a ring on her finger she is anything but off limits.
In this blog I have mentioned Milton Friedman approximately 187 times. The reason I can't stop talking about him is he chose the perfect title for the perfect book. Free to Chose! From the moment I heard the title I knew I would love the book...and I did. Because he was expressing our God given right. That we are free to chose; good, bad, smart, stupid, or outright insane. So who are you to think you can take away that right from your girlfriend? Hillary Clinton?
Obviously if you have split up, then either you or your former significant other decided the two of you would be happier with someone else. So why deprive any of your friends their happiness. It's like Sting says "If you love someone, set them free".