tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66868369192989798852024-03-05T06:18:49.925-06:00Urban-Crawl"Evolution through revolutions."
A cyclo-centric exploration of alternatives to American car culture and the family status quo, as well as other musings of a peaceful radical who occasionally sprouts teeth when shoved into a corner.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.comBlogger311125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-6605694708981705002015-01-08T23:09:00.003-06:002015-01-09T02:05:36.865-06:00Robbing OxygenA few weeks back I was in a Cracker Barrel restaurant south of Atlanta, Georgia. The place seemed crowded for a Monday lunch, but it was the week following Xmas.<br />
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Our family waited in line. Kids were antsy. Traffic had been bad. We weren't expecting to wait for seating. April and the kids fidgeted. I stood still to take in the surroundings, eventually studying the party behind us in line. They knew a person from the party ahead of us. All locals. Their familiarity belied them. Their accents were spot-on. Their uniforms commingled golf shirts and real tree.<br />
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They spoke of the holidays, family health problems, trivial frustrations. Then, they spoke of politics. Libya and Russia, something or other.<br />
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"Well, he ain't <em>my </em>president."<br />
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"He ain't MY president, either!"<br />
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The first, and older, protestor then told a story I couldn't make out. I heard only bits about monkeys throwing each other on the train tracks followed by a reference to our President. As a monkey.<br />
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Relating this later to April at our lunch table she was appalled. She hadn't heard any of it. Thankfully.<br />
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I watched the table of men across from us. They were unconnected to our line studies. I observed their interactions with the African-American waitress serving them and us. I noted their tone with her. No quintessential "southern courtesy." No lilting 'ma'ams' or 'why, yes pleases' or any other stereotypical southernisms we glorify and prop up in our cultural rhetoric.<br />
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Come to think of it, I only witnessed those 'isms' as a young person, and we now only see those interactions in movies and such, occurring between white people.<br />
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In fact, I witnessed among those three fellows a restrained, yet wholehearted, lack of civility in the face of what was clearly a hellish day at a restaurant with ill-equipped management. In the faces of these white men, bodies bedecked in ridiculous modern garb glorifying golf, camouflage, and their agribusiness employer, I instead saw the faces of entitled gentry marooned on a tract of land over two centuries ago. The reassurance of dominion and sovereignty fresh from the mouths of their forebears ebbing their domineering arrogance.<br />
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I felt a slight twinge of shame I hadn't spoken to the good ole boys behind me in line earlier. But I remembered I would not have had the restraint to be civil. And civility is paramount, in the South, even when one speaks of racism, sedition, or hypocrisy.<br />
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Picking battles. Saving energy. Like not wasting air on oxygen thieves.<br />
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At the table, as our family endured the longest wait for our food, I had plenty of time to look around. At the multiple black families. At biracial couples and kids. At the table of eight that included an extended family of Asians, including grandma including small children. I studied this scene. I thought about the men in line.<br />
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I concluded my silence meant nothing. Because the ultimate reality would correct the situation. In due course and given time. <br />
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The reality frightening these small-minded relics is not even new. It is not a result of moral decline, a departure from precepts, or some prophesied nonsense. The reality is reality. It has been happening all along. Centuries long.<br />
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People exist, and love, hate, kill, and fuck. And live and have to go on. Color and religion and class don't matter so much as circumstance.<br />
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My South, my home, you are the hallows of ancient circumstance on our nation's shores. By god, you have so much to learn, so far to go.<br />
<br />Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-58013541959876012672015-01-05T01:18:00.000-06:002015-01-05T01:18:04.461-06:00Happy New Year.<br />
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I resolve to be kind. Kinder.<br />
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I resolve to fix as many broken things as possible. Rather than buy anew. <br />
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Corporate idiots are telling us to not think. Not fix. Instead, buy. As usual. Worse yet, they are instructing us to be afraid. Afraid of things that are statistically implausible.<br />
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Ebola. Terrorist attacks. Race riots. Societal dissolution.<br />
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Their masters have instructed them. They have bought and paid for our elected officials, our government. We should all see this, but we don't. <br />
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We keep buying.<br />
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That is how our capitalist culture makes money, after all. We begrudge the necessities of life while glorifying the ostentatious. Oh, it sucks to fix a furnace, while two weeks of well earned vacation are vanguard. Why deal with the NOW when you can masturbate on the titillating unknown?<br />
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(Not that we should eschew the downtime; our culture is pathetically lacking in time off.)<br />
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Those of us who can should try to live like people beyond our means. Which, like those above us, means disregarding the rest. We've worked hard. Screw the moochers.<br />
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America, "middle class America," you cannot look beyond your small-mindedness enough to glimpse the sad truth.<br />
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You/we are now propping up a lie. And we are helping the liers to rob the cookie jar dry.<br />
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Here is an idea. Holistic thinking. Man, that sounds liberal and new age, doesn't it?<br />
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However, it's more a matter of survival. Holistic thinking means examining the long view. Does something really make sense for you, your family, your community, your town, your state, your world?<br />
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Take Wal-Mart as an example. Folks celebrate the arrival of a new Wal-Mart store in their town. Cheap stuff that is readily available. But the average shopper doesn't realize they are subsidizing those cheap prices. Whoa. That's liberal talk. Right? A $.50 avocado is a $.50 avocado.<br />
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Bullshit.<br />
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No matter what you are buying at Wal-Mart, you should add at least 20-30% to the purchase price. You are buying an illusion of low prices. <br />
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When you buy an item from Wal-Mart, or other discount retailers who market on price you are subsidizing their underpaid and under-benefitted labor force in the form of federal and state subsidies, like food stamps. And other public assistance. Yep, that's the truth. <br />
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You think you are getting a good deal. You get to travel down the road and vent your frustration in an entirely different, and seemingly unrelated, venue when you bark about handouts. Welfare. Damn those ne'er do wells. Sucking off the system.<br />
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But too many of those 'ingrates' you bemoan are actually gainfully employed folks trying to make a difference. They want to support their families; they care about their communities.<br />
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Reference the fast food workers' movement. It ain't all high school kids looking to get a break, people. Mothers and fathers are trying to live off those jobs.<br />
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You have been fed lies again about the mythical underclass who loves to not work and be handed everything. A beautiful lie since it makes you go to work and work harder, against benefits and recompense, to defeat them. That mythical underclass is a tiny percentage of people. Yet enterprising politicians inflate it to get you worked up (while they siphon monetary kickbacks that would boggle you).<br />
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Everywhere I have used "you" I mean "we." I, and all of us, play a part here. <br />
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Let us all make good decisions in 2015 that support sustainability.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-47818863675880925202013-07-30T22:48:00.000-05:002013-07-30T22:48:34.079-05:00Open Letter to Someone My Elder Who Posted on FBHello Mr. M---,<br />
I hope you and N--- are well. I will be nothing less than upfront -- this message could go a couple of ways. Meaning you might be offended and choose to cut off communication. However, I can assure you respect is in the forefront of my mind as I type.<br />
I'm motivated to send you this message after your latest post regarding Obama releasing 12M illegal aliens to compete with US citizens for jobs. In fact, let's go just a bit further back. I am compelled to send you this message because many of your posts concern me from a factual standpoint. (A couple of which I have replied with refuting links citing actual facts.) Bear with me. This could get lengthy.<br />
It's the memes (that would be an image with a single-sentence slam against someone or some group). They are hardly ever a way to convey real, tangible information. Instead, they incite or perpetuate anger, fear, hatred. Yes, I am left leaning, and many left-leaning news camps are not without useless memes either. I disregard or challenge those, too. (I am not exclusively pro-Obama or Democrat, by the way, but progressive in nature.)<br />
Here's the core issue -- no complex topic can be reduced to a single graphic; no viewpoint can be refuted in a single rebuttal. We're all guilty of this reductionism, but it defies intellectual examination. There are two sides to a story, they say. I'd add there aren't only two sides, but myriad facets to a story.<br />
When I was a young man you were a role model for me. I recall visiting your home several times. I admired its modesty and your matter-of-fact way of approaching life. But above all else I admired your penchant for collecting knowledge. You had books -- books spilling off shelves, books on tables. Everyone in the M--- household read books. This made a major impression on me in a positive way. It was a hallmark of how I wanted to live my life -- in pursuit of knowledge; real nuggets of truth with which to filter my interpretation of the world.<br />
Now, at that time I was young, impetuous at times. Throughout though, I was also respectful of the elder members of the church my late father chose to attend. I listened and absorbed and later tested messages and behavioral examples against my growing faculties of discernment. There was much I could not reconcile. Hypocrisy, that timeless human condition, abounded.<br />
Late to this Facebook game, my sister, H---, linked me with a lot of old church friends. That process has been wholly mixed. And, here, our viewpoints may seriously differ -- too many people I became reacquainted with have stagnated as if they stopped questioning empirical reality some 25 years ago since I last knew them. A few did not surprise me (although R-- W--, another role model for me, proved to be little more than a bigoted stooge). I challenge you -- are you as such?<br />
The World Wide Web is a fantastic place in this simple fact alone -- we have no excuse for ignorance in the information age; ignorance is now a choice. The means to cross-examine any issue are available to everyone who does not reside in a fascist state like China or Iran. Every meme -- from left or right - can be quickly fact checked. Rest assured, I have as many lefty friends I blow off. Blinders work equally well no matter which side of the track you are wandering off toward, and the lens of truth gets equal application.<br />
This leads me back to the immigration question. OK, estimated 12M immigrants -- illegal, undocumented, what-have-you -- running loose in our country. Level it -- they aren't going anywhere. If we choose to round them up tomorrow and send them back to Mexico, Ecuador, Cuba, wherever -- it would suck our tax dollars. If we eradicated their labor force in our country -- documented or otherwise -- it would drain our tax system some, but GDP big time. Do you realize what these desperate people are willing to do in our economy, like mop floors, slaughter meat, process our trash and hazardous waste? Do you realize how many of them are educated professionals with no future in their home countries, but with skills that could advance ours? Are you afraid for your job? I don't think you should be. Seriously.<br />
Do you further realize that a strong majority (4 in 5, GOP and Dem) support a path to citizenship but differ in what stipulations we should assign to achieve it? It's not an Obama issue, it's an American issue. The immigration problem has been rearing its ugly head for generations, long before Obama was a teenager, perhaps even born. Why do you blame him exclusively?<br />
In any of those voluminous tomes on your shelf, was there anything about ancient cultures -- Greece, Rome, Britain? Did you not read in those the consequences of isolationism? The inevitable fall from shutting off borders from fear that peaceful invaders (immigrants) were the sole reason for collapse? Historians have not been so kind in citing the truth about nationalist behavior and its contribution to the decline of a state.<br />
The means of collapse are among us, my friend. (I can call you now my friend because of this -- once you were my elder and I respected you. We are now peers because I am a father, I have weathered the proclamations of you and yours, and have wisdom to share with you.)<br />
Instead of spewing your hate (not a christian value in any form, by the way) toward Obama and immigrants, why don't you do a little research into GOP corporate interests and how the favorable tax breaks, lobbying statuses, and various policies contribute to the expatriation of American jobs? Why don't you explore that those most vociferously calling for the sealing of our borders are the same that seem to cry for small government yet vote for billions in corporate welfare? If you are outraged by paying welfare, why is it that food in families' mouths outrages you, but CEO bonuses (and lack of prosecution/penalties when they gamble with taxpayer money) does not?<br />
These are not Republican or Democratic issues. I suspect we agree a lot when it comes to national politics. On both sides of the aisle we are being sold out. Knowledge can counter the side-taking. We ALL should be outraged by what's going on. My request is this -- be a part of the solution, not a polarizing contributor to the problem.<br />
You inspired me. You are above that.<br />
Respectfully and with love,<br />
John<br />
<br />Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-28078492815952348842012-07-31T20:38:00.003-05:002012-07-31T20:59:48.353-05:00Benefit of the DoubtI'm a little surprised I remembered how to wander over to this corner of the internet. My password still works, so I guess I'm good to go. <br />
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I just "Unfriended" three folks on Facebook. I could no longer take the fundamentalist christian posts nor the tea party rhetoric. I know, I'm a weird idealist who thinks of FB as a place where some actual discourse might happen. And while most people on FB don't give a shit about a substantive conversation, I guarantee many people who think they do are actually stunting, not advancing, honest dialogue. <br />
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Since it's been nearly 11 months, and surely no one is following my blog anymore, I can be honest, right? For many, many years I've had to actively work against anti-christian sentiments within my own heart. I have, at times, had to curb my anger channeled in a desire to defame what I see as hypocrisy and hatred amongst those who would label themselves so. Frankly, christians are lucky they have themselves because they're not winning many friends at large as far as I can tell. This political season isn't helping one good, goddamned bit. <br />
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These folks I culled from my FB friends list were acquaintances from a radical church my dad dragged us off to when I was an adolescent and teenager. It was a mindfuck of an organization. My dad was no posterchild for the congregation either. He smoked. He drank. He was a womanizer. All things that don't mesh so well with those sorts of fundamentalist cults. Why he felt compelled to keep attending I will never know. I tried my best to focus on what I regard as the core beliefs -- kindness toward others (ALL others), respect for the earth, service, and humility. Precisely the things I see are lost in the popular christian stance on our nation's debate stage. <br />
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I still remember the utter shock I experienced when I moved away for college (a mere 4 hours away, but far enough). All of a sudden I could do what I wanted to do. I had freedom from this artificially imposed belief system. I turned to the mountains and began backpacking. Then, eventually, climbing, kayaking, canoeing. I turned those passions into a career. I joined that affinity for time spent outdoors with my spirituality. In short, I opened my mind to new places, new things, new people. I have rarely glimpsed backwards. <br />
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I remain deeply troubled for and by those who cower beneath a narrow stricture of beliefs. While I would be labeled a pagan by most, an atheist by many (neither should possess morals, right?), I do not believe hate is an acceptable response. This includes hatred of the narrow-minded, who, if given their ways, would lord over the masses of infidels in some bloody old testament play of vengeance and submission. Even if the most vocal of christians seem to have forsaken the core teachings of their Christ (a person I will acknowledge was a bodhisattva, an advanced being) I cannot hate them back. I will not allow myself that crutch with which to prop an atrophying intellect. No, I will forbear. <br />
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But I damn sure don't have to read their ignorant shit on Facebook anymore. <br />
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Be well, all. But most importantly, be kind to one another.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-33175333164440392172011-09-20T12:34:00.002-05:002011-10-26T18:15:40.886-05:00Basic HumanityAn issue that has planted itself in my thoughts of late is the vitriolic rancor sweeping America. This thought has been triggered by the myriad welfare bashing posts that were a minor trend on Facebook a while back. (They still pop up from time to time, ocassionally from my own family which grates me to no end.) There seems to be a commonly accepted myth that everyone on welfare is a crack addict who milks the system and sits back letting the government pay their ways. It’s not unlike Reagan’s favorite stump speech about the “welfare mom” that hatched in the 80s. The story was proven to be hype. But people latch onto such images, mindlessly repeating them as truths with little concern for the hatred and contempt that is bred as a result. Perhaps it's human nature to despise the notion of someone getting something for nothing. Especially if we “hard working” Americans are getting squeezed ever tighter in a recession economy. <br /><br />This profiling manifests itself in many ways, like support of mandatory drug testing for welfare recipients. It’s also present in the call for bounties on welfare violators. I’m no fan of people acquiescing to a lifestyle of defrauding the system. However, the popular backlash among many rank and file Americans smacks of hatred, divisiveness and gross labeling. It does little justice to a system that has helped countless Americans better themselves over the years. Growing up it helped my family from time to time. I feel fortunate that we had that assistance and I am lucky to have a firsthand knowledge of some of welfare’s benefits. I believe too many people clogging the airwaves in dissent have no clue. They'd rather spread lies and hatred in an effort to protect their piece of the pie, I suppose.<br /><br />This is a difficult time in America. It’s made only more difficult when we citizens mimic the infighting and partisanship that our supposed leaders in Washington have made a standard operating procedure. One of my favorite bumper stickers of all time reads “If the people lead, the leaders will follow.” It is as true to me today as it was the day I first saw it. But we are not leading. We are choosing to blame everyone and everything we can, not unlike our "leaders." It’s Obama’s fault, the government’s fault, big corporations’ fault, immigrants’ fault and , now, poor people’s fault.<br /><br />We must break this cycle of blame, forge and hammer it, refine and focus it to something useful that will propel us forward. Surrender non-productive ideologies for the sake of tangible progress. Quit arguing religion and political party alliance. This movement to vilify the less fortunate among us disgusts me. It’s hatred and resentment personified and it is wrong. Americans engaging in such chatter would do well to focus attention on our leaders and their coddling of the most fortunate among us. Press them to revise tax code in a way that makes the uber rich pay more of their fair share. <br /><br />Furthermore, quit worrying that someone’s stealing your cheese. A miserly approach to living is never healthy. In our recession climate it will only help ensure we bleed and starve to death a large segment of our citizenry on whom the sun has set. Our insular habits and self-protectionism will be the demise of us all.<br /><br />On a related note -- long live the Occupy protesters! Our government leaders and business leaders need to realize the people are speaking, even if it's a message they don't want to hear. These people are my heroes because instead of turning their ire on the other (the phenomenon described above) they're directing it at corrupt banks, corporations and leaders who have usurped the Dream that underpins our nation's legacy. <br /><br />For better or worse questions are being asked, accusations fielded. We'd all do well to get behind that.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-81707030499853468982011-07-12T22:03:00.005-05:002011-07-12T23:29:18.748-05:00Thanks, Dad ... & Super GlueI was an accident prone kid. I had well over a couple hundred stitches before I started school. Really. (That's counting a major eye injury as well as "normal" dermal sutures.)<br /><br />My Dad was a carpenter and a pragmatist. He was always getting injured -- from minor to seriously minor. He never went to a doctor. It didn't help that we were chronically uninsured. Doctor visits were reserved for life-altering moments. Blood loss and strong illness were not necessarily those sorts of moments in his regard. <br /><br />Much to the chagrin of my Mom, Dad would tape flaps of skin back onto fingers using duct tape. For infections he was not unknown to patronize the local pet store and purchase tetracycline. He dabbled in poultices occasionally and generous doses of alcohol were part of the prescription. His pain care regimen was old school -- like teeth clenched against a stick.<br /><br />I used to think he was a total hard ass. I cut myself mowing the lawn once during my teenage years. While pushing up a hill in our backyard, my footing slipped and I came down on my knee which fatefully planted onto a shard of glass. He met Mom and me in the emergency room as the doc was numbing me up for sutures. "Next time wear blue jeans," was his advice. Then he left to return to work. No matter it was late July in Tennessee -- "Blue jeans, you fucker?!" I mused. Being sixteen, I suppose I would have thought him a jerk no matter what he said.<br /><br />(I want to insert a caveat that we have taken our kids for all recommended and necessary care, as well as the frivolous visit or two [in retrospect] because we were paranoid. However, in terms of my own personal injuries I have adopted a more liberal policy of professional attention that I owe in no small part to my father.)<br /><br />Not long after starting college about 20 years ago, I embarked upon a serious interest in rock climbing. Like everything I take on, I read lots to supplement the actual practice of the craft. I learned knots and studied stories of climbs. That's when I first learned that cyanoacrylate -- Super Glue -- can be used to seal wounds in place of sutures. Sounds painful but cool. Like many things any of us read that information was filed into the cabinet of my twenty-something brain.<br /><br />Being that I have a shop space (and more than a few lacerations occur in my shop courtesy of edge tools), I've had reason to recall that knowledge. I have Super Glue on my adhesive shelf anyway. In addition, I recently read an article about how to properly glue shut a laceration. I've tried it out. It works wonders.<br /><br />(Let's pause a moment for another parenthetical paragraph. I'm not talking about injuries from powered blades or serious cuts that affect more than soft tissue [read: tendon, ligament or bone]. Rather I am referring to the deep cuts where one cannot quickly stop bleeding with pressure or a bandage so as to resume normal activity. If I retained a lawyer, s/he would thank you for reading that statement.)<br /><br />Last Sunday morning I stopped by a friend's house before proceeding to the grocery store to get some grillable grub for dinner. I took a stupid spill in the alley hopping an obstacle. I landed on my left hand, elbow and ass. It hurt like hell, but like most accidents on a bike, I jumped up quickly and tried to walk off the pain. It wasn't until I grabbed my brake lever that I realized that wet, slippery grip meant I was bleeding a lot. I must have landed on some glass or something because my left palm was deeply gashed although it hurt nothing in comparison to my hip. Still, it needed attention.<br /><br />I rolled home and applied first aid. April suggested, and I agreed, that it could use stitches. (One telltale clue is the depth and visibility of fatty tissue.) I told her I didn't want to spend four hours in urgent care on a Sunday and a few hundred dollars to mend something so minor. We have decent insurance, but I value my time. Besides, I've spent plenty of time in hospitals over the course of my life. They all smell the same.<br /><br />The first application of glue peeled off yesterday. This evening I decided the wound was still flexible enough for another closure. I washed and dried it thoroughly and went to work:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm9xr50tjPw4EDrpQhMYBN9TRSF8Yquiawr51KdsqXzkOFbOu_s_QTHfx5RCKgnnup9zogx6mgU3wbfaBrJFnakKfBg4n5OLnXGd0BgJCYRqSwxtaMiQIRz7lnZ1cxHem9A1ZXli99Ay6/s1600/Glue.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm9xr50tjPw4EDrpQhMYBN9TRSF8Yquiawr51KdsqXzkOFbOu_s_QTHfx5RCKgnnup9zogx6mgU3wbfaBrJFnakKfBg4n5OLnXGd0BgJCYRqSwxtaMiQIRz7lnZ1cxHem9A1ZXli99Ay6/s320/Glue.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628672157399770402" /></a><br /><br />The key, according to an MD whose article I recently read, is to gently hold the skin closed and glue across the laceration in criss-crossing strips. Let dry without gluing your uninjured hand's fingertips to the skin. Bingo!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBOXRkTdU8qURQFNsAkP6uvWQl7dxFE-_-HB1VfzGd-Q5coDed6y5qA4tvtMp6SQMJ7z8nHaip7gXiaqlvJtYGhyAi03kIbG-I3jkvfJ1EajIDcg1ZOr3bDtqhXhuHGeqgaoCBmlCLHMw/s1600/Dressing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBOXRkTdU8qURQFNsAkP6uvWQl7dxFE-_-HB1VfzGd-Q5coDed6y5qA4tvtMp6SQMJ7z8nHaip7gXiaqlvJtYGhyAi03kIbG-I3jkvfJ1EajIDcg1ZOr3bDtqhXhuHGeqgaoCBmlCLHMw/s320/Dressing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628672144137415506" /></a><br /><br />My dressing consists of a Band-Aid smeared with Burt's Bees Rescue ointment applied over the laceration, and then tape holding the opposing sides of the wound closed (a band all the way around the knuckles). This is then supported by another band in an X configuration opposing any propensity for the cut to re-open, as well as the Band-Aid to peel off, with normal hand movement. Keep in mind this will only be in place for the next 12-18 hours. No need to leave it tightly bandaged longer than that since skin needs air.<br /><br />Why am I sharing this? Honestly, I think it's good if we realize we don't have to rush off to the hospital at the sight of blood -- even flowing, dripping blood. Save your time. Don't forget the ER staff's time since they have fun stuff like trauma and gunshot wounds to deal with. By the way, hospitals use Super Glue all the time, so this isn't like some wacko application.<br /><br />Please remember, I'm no doctor, so take everything you read on my blog with a grain of counterfeit French sea salt. That said, next I'm going to work on my skills at reducing dislocated digits. I've got a toe injury that still hurts from two years ago. Something tells me I didn't self diagnose that injury very well.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-50338800430723411252011-07-05T18:56:00.001-05:002011-07-05T18:56:00.088-05:00More Great Press for Biking & InfrastructureStories like this often make my day -- <a href="http://economix.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/07/04/the-bicycle-dividend/?emc=eta1">NYT Economix: The Bicycle Dividend</a>. You see, when cycling is part of one's everyday transportation equation it is often easy to get into a rut. This can be due to a number of factors: The emotional effects of dealing with belligerent drivers; the physical effects of riding a bike over distance in all types of weather; fielding off-base comments from non-cyclists who regard bike transportation as freakish; and generally concluding that society is not moving more in support of cycling, but simply polarizing the parties involved into more or less 'for' and 'against' positions.<br /><br />But when an article like this comes along it reminds me of two things: 1) There are numbers, the result of more frequent study and analysis, that support the benefits of biking on many different fronts (health, environmental, economic) as well as the benefits of investing in bike infrastructure; 2) These articles are popping up more often on higher profile news outlets which signifies greater awareness and interest in the topic. The article is a short read and well worth the time.<br /><br />I'm not expecting motorists to cheer me or stop and ask to shake my hand any time soon. However, I will bask in the glow I feel whenever I read one of these articles. While the pro-cycling message is agreable to me, that is not the biggest theme I take away from such press features. What really brings me hope is that Americans are beginning -- out of necessity and lack of legitimate counter-argument -- to examine the myriad destructive legacies of building our culture and shaping our daily lives around the automobile. Bike lanes and trails are good, but this realization is the source of truly profound change yet to come.<br /><br />The article closes with this quote: "Hats (and helmets) off to the bicycle activists and policy makers who work to promote bicycle paths and lanes. They are spinning us all in a good direction." Agreed. <br /><br />I'd like to take a couple revolutions backward, however, and tip my hat to the vigilant cyclists who have quietly maintained a road presence in the decades up to now, before cycling (specifically for transportation) was enjoying more frequent and positive PR. Many such individuals have been my role models and sources of inspiration. No matter their motivation for biking, they're visionaries all the same.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-51303666516297156832011-06-27T17:08:00.002-05:002011-06-27T17:50:08.502-05:00CommunityI'm home on a Monday. It's a beautiful, sunny day. I haven't been outside once. In fact, I am still in my pajamas. A sickness came on yesterday. When I awoke this morning I felt like I'd been dragged behind a pick-up through a gravel parking lot. I don't get sick often, so when the sinus pressure and painful deep coughs set in I tend to shut down if I need to. I slept away a good portion of this stellar summer day.<br /><br />I try to make the best of most situations. I had a long and pleasant weekend. I was genuinely ready for the work week ahead. There's plenty to do and I want to get it done. However, when it hurts to simply stand up chances are productivity will be nil and mistakes plentiful. Leave it alone. Send the attendance email and walk away. Lie down. Let the body mend.<br /><br />Last Wednesday I opened a Facebook account. Now, if any of you who still happen to read my infrequently updated blog recall, I have been a vocal holdout from the social media thing. I have numerous reasons for "giving in". Over the years I've sought dozens of opinions on the matter. The facts I kept coming around to were simple: 1) The motivation is pure -- we are social critters; people want to keep in touch and 2) I have the power to make Facebook whatever I want it to be.<br /><br />The past few days have been full of confirming friend requests, uploading photos and generally attempting to make my page a representation of who I am and what I do. I regard these as valuable considerations since a good portion of the people I've signed on as friends are folks from a past life in a place far away where I rarely visit. Yet, a fondness and friendship endures and I'm looking forward to keeping up with them.<br /><br />Another motivation comes from what I regard as the highly polarized state of our culture today. A shaky economy, wars many don't support, oil spills and natural disasters haven't helped. We have looming problems with our nation's ability to address energy problems, quality of life for citizens (i.e. economic equality and health care) and the definition of our role as a waning global economic power. Leaders have become little more than bandwagon sensationalists fomenting debates on hot-button topics in order to bolster a fan base for re-election. Fingerpointing has become an art at the Washington level.<br /><br />Something wonderful I have been reminded of these past few weeks/months is that most people are rational. Really, I believe they are. During a trip to China back in May I was availed of something else (we murdered bin Laden while I was on that trip) -- Americans take ourselves, our problems and our role in world drama way too seriously.<br /><br />So, in an effort to take myself a little less seriously, I started a Facebook account. It's a small token perhaps, but an attempt nonetheless to curb polarization, cynicism and hate that have become easier than ever to foster these days.<br /><br />Be well.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-77027833891589310622011-04-26T18:43:00.001-05:002011-04-27T08:11:59.274-05:00Sprung<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMq0SRPYn5TTMdqTUfd2TglTlDq7zpTMisooyrq2O-C5HRnmBQwxzjGmKoSgZW69dB_WYejCBVF-RlYPr6Ux186rDZztrvXm5VnI069cHuQzghW_HqelbnyYrGyq4B7jNQJFOV9F5Bgrd7/s1600/Willa+and+Sylvia.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599995834448802466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMq0SRPYn5TTMdqTUfd2TglTlDq7zpTMisooyrq2O-C5HRnmBQwxzjGmKoSgZW69dB_WYejCBVF-RlYPr6Ux186rDZztrvXm5VnI069cHuQzghW_HqelbnyYrGyq4B7jNQJFOV9F5Bgrd7/s320/Willa+and+Sylvia.jpg" /></a> Two happy girls. Happy because they don't tune into weather forecasts perhaps. It's cold and rainy here today. There's talk of the S word falling from the sky tonight. All we can do is wait and see. Spring is lodging here, but we can't seem to locate our esteemed guest for the honorary dinner announcing her arrival.<br /><br />Willa's just turned three and Sylvia will be six in a week and a half. My how time flies. Seems like just yesterday I was growing my hair and listening to the Grateful Dead. We'll be shipping Mom off in a couple of days for a vacation with friends in NYC. It's a long weekend with Dad coming up. We did this same thing last year. I'm really looking forward to it.<br /><br />****************************<br /><br />Here's an <a href="http://finance.yahoo.com/blogs/daily-ticker/cars-without-borders-does-made-america-really-matter-134034850.html">interesting tidbit on "Made in America."</a> It has to do with cars, but what other topic strikes so close to we Americans' hearts? Honda exports to 30 countries from assembly plants in the US. Hmm ... this topic could be more complex than it sounds. After all, Honda's not an American company.<br /><br />For some reason the adamant insistence of some people to "Buy American" has always bothered me. It's a protectionist mentality that has little basis in practicality or sustainability. We're better off in our buying decisions to support locally owned businesses as much as possible and to extrapolate downward to purchasing locally sourced products from food to bath soap. <br /><br />The "Buy American" argument is often waged at the corporate-produced level of cars. It presumes power is in the hands of large corporations. And I think we all have plenty of evidence that equation gets balanced at the expense of everyday workers and taxpayers.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-21879917067332992442011-04-18T22:59:00.003-05:002011-04-19T01:53:10.594-05:00SpringingThe remains of the longest winter in my short MN history are melting away. Happy spring, everyone. Go ride your bike.<br /><br />************<br /><br />I wrote that "post" over a week ago and intended it to accompany a photo of my bike parked next to a tenaciously lingering snow drift slowly melting on a warm, sunny morning commute. The photo was taken with my new phone -- a smartphone, nonetheless, and smarter than I -- but I have to reconfigure some settings to get things to work for blog posts. If you're in the Mpls area you get the picture without need of an actual photo. Pretty much everyone's been tired of winter for a while now. And it's been spring for nearly a month. That's saying something.<br /><br />It's easy to personify winter in a less than pleasing get-up when you've gone four months without seeing green grass (e.g. the 'ole man winter' image ... I think I even refered to winter as a baby boomer whose retirement account tanked in one post a few months ago). <br /><br />I must note, however, that spring has been showing its instability -- its unmedicated, bipolar side. One minute it's warm and balmy like the party's in full swing; the next, spring's sobbing uncontrollably and smashing soft plates of half-frozen precip on the kitchen walls.<br /><br />Settle in and have another beer. You're better off pinning your hopes on nothing this early in the game.<br /><br />************<br /><br />So I got this new phone. Did I mention that? I like gadgets; I have to fess up and admit I really do. This new phone (a Motorola Defy [with Motoblur], in case you're wondering) has me enamored. I'm glad I didn't hop on the smartphone craze right away because it seems developers are ironing out a lot of things. No, I don't chase technology, but I like a good gadget. I'm especially prone to the compact, powerful gizmos that can store and access an inordinate amount of information. I guess it helps that I don't mind reading small fonts. Oh, and I always wait for my contract to expire so I can get a good deal. Weird.<br /><br />Right after getting this phone I pondered the list of gadgets I've owned in the past 10-12 years. This is my sixth cell phone (five I actually bought since the first was a hand-me-down). Back in the late 90s I inherited an Apple Newton (anyone remember those?) and followed that up with a Palm III and a T|X purchased five years ago. Whew -- color screen and WiFi! I no sooner bought the T|X than realized I should have bought a netbook instead. I have a netbook now and love the thing. Fortunately I'm not a Mac person or I would have an iPod, an iPhone and now an iPad. I have none of those but can appreciate their appeal, I guess.<br /><br />Where the hell am I going with this anyway? Oh, my blog!<br /><br />If you read my blog with any regularity you might have noticed that it gets updated rather infrequently. Well, I think about this a lot more than you might imagine. I've read articles about how no one blogs anymore. I'm hip to the "Twitterization" of our culture. I think there's substance and truth in much of this. Vinyl gave way to tapes which gave way to discs and now it's all in the clouds. Who'da thunk it?<br /><br />In my case, part of it is the sheer coincidence of timing. Blogs were cool way back when and now Facebook is all the rage. I always enjoy digging beneath pop culture trends to explain behavior though. For me it has more to do with where I was then and am now. A handful of years ago when I started this blog I was a student (again) working part-time in a warehouse. I checked my email 3-5 times a day. I rode my bike from school to work and then home. My mind was on fire with ideas and advocacy. I wrote papers for shcool and vented my spleen on my blog, based largely on the issues I saw on a firsthand basis aboard my bike every day.<br /><br />I'm still aboard my bike most every day, but things have changed. The infant we had when I went back to school is now a young lady and our second daughter is not far behind. My job is more involved, meaning not only do I reside behind a computer screen for long periods of time in the office, I often bring my work home in order to catch clients in time zones stretched around the world. Don't get me wrong -- I am a lucky bastard and I love my job. But my point is I spend most of my day in front of a computer toiling over emails, documents, reports. I'm often ashamed how long it takes me to reply to personal email (sorry, JB and Aaron). Let alone how long it takes me to work up the resolve to write a coherent blog post.<br /><br />Perhaps that is the issue that reveals me as a hold-out -- the fact I think of a meaningful blog post as an essay with a thesis, supporting material and a conclusion. In our Twitterized society, publicized thoughts become the prostituted haiku of techno-altered parents conceiving illegitimate children with half-baked intellects.<br /><br />Perhaps that was harsh. But I digress.<br /><br />I have this new phone now. Have I mentioned that? It came with all these pre-loaded apps (Widgets, even) to facilitate interfacing with social media. But not blogs, because blogs are no longer legit social media apparently. I can work it out though and as soon as I get my next burst of blog energy to follow this one I plan to do just that.<br /><br />In the meantime, I've been giving some more thought to the Facebook thing (FB, I understand the kids are abbreviating it these days). This could be due to a couple of things. One is a trend I read about last extended winter that indicated the authorities responsible for the OED (or Oxford English Dictionary, as opposed to OCED which is Obsessive Compulsive English Disorder) began admitting text slang to the venerable tome. Maybe I'm just fighting the inevitable? My new phone has Swype, so I'm texting more, dawg. OMFG YO.<br /><br />Then last night we watched 'The Social Network'. After seeing the depiction of how miserable all those bastards are I have little hope that anyone created social networking sites based on philanthropy or goodwill. It's all posturing, self-absorption and money-grubbing capitalism. I can dig that desperation.<br /><br />Why can I dig that desperation? Because I have an immense respect for the breadth and depth of holes that people dig for themselves. And I do include myself ...<br /><br />************<br /><br />On my ride home tonight I had one of the most egregious buzzes by a car I've had in a long while. A Nissan Altima, or some other Euro knock-off sedan, MN license plate 046 ATX, cruised by me above the speed limit on Xerxes just south of Hwy 62 passing within one foot of my handlebars. It was after 9pm. There was no other traffic about and I was lit up like a christ mass tree given the reflectives and LEDs. Didn't see me? Scary. Saw me and hated me and my presence? Even scarier.<br /><br />I had no chance of catching up to confront but I had half my ride home to ponder. I passed two gas stations on the way and noted fuel is $4 a gallon. Maybe that's it? Maybe it's also the fickle weather that's got people cranky. I don't know.<br /><br />I do know that a few years ago this sort of encounter made me mad. Don't get me wrong, I had a flush of anger. More so, though, I felt a wave of sadness. I related the story to April tonight and told her my philosophy of riding which goes something like this: "I take every precaution I can to ensure that I arrive home safely and avoid harming anyone else while I'm riding my bike. But I have no control over a driver approaching from behind who doesn't see me or sees me and regards me as little more than a bug on the floor."<br /><br />I don't smash bugs on the floor and I try my damnedest not to berate those around me. Some of it is human nature, I suppose, lost in the moment of judgment by acquaintances. Still, we can regret and mend. How many are engaging that pattern, however? How many who wage a disparaging word have the courage to apologize? Moreover, how many who buzz a cyclist, intentionally or not, go home and think, "Geez, that was bad. I need to give that person more space because I could have killed her/him"?<br /><br />The desperation I can dig is the trough that surrounds me, and us, at all times -- dug by people on both sides of the fence who want to berate, name call and otherwise sling shit at thine neighbor.<br /><br />What is crying foul? In a caustic environment are words apt to burn more than the ire already ablaze in an inferno? The wisdom of age quells my desire to lift my finger, but in return my heart despairs all the more. We are a society of self-absorbed idiots. Fear rules us, not unlike my fear of some driver striking me from behind while I'm blogging away in my mind ... and thinking about getting home to my family.<br /><br />It's not unlike our fear of $4/gallon gas, or Facebook and the breakdown of our culture. Does anyone truly think that while we stand steadfast by the empty bastions of our freedom that our language, our culture and our very "moral fabric" are not being stripped from beneath us? Apparently, yes, many people think so because there are armed guards with theoretical jurisdiction posted at every entry point as you read this. Thus the hatred for one another, those with opposing viewpoints, within our own country.<br /><br />Ironically, the "threat" (if anyone dare label it as such) is so far beyond our borders yet embodied within each of us. We are all truncating our language, eating factory-farmed food and consuming willy-nilly. Meanwhile the places formerly known as the third world are emulating and chasing our own wake hoping to ride that elusive wave.<br /><br />On that note, cheers and good night!Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-61955787727590089272011-02-15T19:36:00.002-06:002011-02-15T20:35:57.436-06:00MISCHappy heatwave. I got back from a balmy 8 days in the UK a week ago and we plunged into the negative digits for overnight lows here in Mpls. I found myself wishing I'd extended my stay across the pond.<br /><br />Last weekend we swung 'round to highs in the 40s. It's been holding there, so we're in the middle of a slush-n-puddle festival. I was craving the end of winter but this sudden end was unexpected. There has to be a walloping storm around the corner. (Weather's other shoe is perpetually ready to drop in Minnesota.)<br /><br />I've had a couple of interesting bits drop into my email inbox of late. The first is amusing, perhaps downright funny, while also revealing a few disturbing presuppositions regarding cyclists. Still, it is interesting to note that a competitive cyclist logging thousands of miles in a single race wouldn't be tempted to use drugs to keep himself going. However, the leap that only kids would dare ride bikes without the benefit of drugs to inspire them is narrow if not utterly spurious. <br /><br />In defense of this mindset, it re-occurred to me recently that what we serial cyclists do is not normal. So if you are among this crowd you should keep in mind that many of the drivers passing you believe the "normal" thing for adults to do is buy a car and drive it places; that riding a bike to get somewhere is what people who've had their licenses revoked must resort to. Have patience with them and remember that oil prices are hiking.<br /><br />But without further ado, here's <a href="http://blog.defgrip.net/2011/01/lance-armstrong-does-drugs/#more-17647">Lance Armstrong Does Drugs</a>.<br /><br />The second tidbit was simply astounding. I didn't dig deeper into the work of Michael Rakowitz, but the concept of building low cost shelters for the homeless (seriously low budget) is fascinating. There's also a pleasant theme of subverting discriminatory city laws. I dig that.<br /><br />Not long after moving to Minnesota in February of 2002, I was invigorated by the winters. I walked a lot and every time I passed a large building with its heat exhaust spilling onto the sidewalk I wondered, "Why can't this warm air be recycled?" Rakowitz's bivvies do just that. <br /><br />How much more basically can a theory of conservation be extrapolated? Why should we waste such vital commodities as heat during a MN winter? We Americans have myriad ways to mend.<br /><br />Here are <a href="http://michaelrakowitz.com/projects/parasite/">a few of the Project Parasite examples</a>, or as Johnny Nebraska coined them "Bivy Sacks for the Homeless."<br /><br />I love new ways of looking at things, new thoughts on a topic. Don't you? Well, if you don't I wholeheartedly encourage you to get right with the lord and start embracing differences, challenges and shit that generally rocks your world. <br /><br />Make love to your fear. Hug your hate. Water the seeds of your hope. Spring's just around the corner.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-26632930377104879502011-01-24T20:33:00.003-06:002011-01-24T22:17:59.993-06:00Worn Welcome<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeFn1-vDzQ08qbbh3uZv4Igq64q3lAwpl0vJDmHZ7OLOjMdZmqcvQYEH5nPTNpMNONo9jxNIyuje9vVhjBeoYEaDSDtC1Ka8oj2Gtx5d_v5oKPpPcVz4md_ORJ0iGKu0-g2_eHoNXlfb8/s1600/Holidays_2010+016.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565964422531429282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeFn1-vDzQ08qbbh3uZv4Igq64q3lAwpl0vJDmHZ7OLOjMdZmqcvQYEH5nPTNpMNONo9jxNIyuje9vVhjBeoYEaDSDtC1Ka8oj2Gtx5d_v5oKPpPcVz4md_ORJ0iGKu0-g2_eHoNXlfb8/s320/Holidays_2010+016.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Winter in Minnesota. I love it mostly. I idealized it while living in Tennessee during my youth. Oh, how I longed to live some place where the snow would visit often and linger more than a few days. I moved here 9 years ago and my wish came true.<br /><br />That wish has never rung truer than this year. Boy howdy, we have snow to spare. We've had 6 feet of it so far this snow season. It's gotten to a point -- perhaps The Point. If you've read some of my previous posts you'll know I'm a snow shoveling zealot. These days, however, if the snow amounts to less than an inch I don't bother. Let the wind blow it away.<br /><br />There's been plenty of wind, too, and cold. It's been cold and windy and snowy. Welcome to Minnesota.<br /><br />Still, there have been bright moments. I enjoy the times when I am out in the snow and can enjoy it without the rush of a schedule. I've snowshoed a bit this winter. It's very enjoyable and extremely warming since it's damned hard work in fresh, deep powder. I've had a few amazing biking experiences. Okay, more than a few to be fair. On one such occasion last Thursday riding my Pugsley at Theo Wirth with co-workers (read: we were not in the office but still getting paid) I felt warmer than anything I'd muster commuting at 10 degrees.<br /><br />I had a nagging reminder of something at lunch that day. The mention of an unforgettable fact. One of my colleagues, a fellow Tennessee ex-pat, asked me: "So, do you feel like you just love winter, like a native Minnesotan?" I wanted to say I've met plenty of Minnesota-born folks who begrudge winter, but I got his point. And while I was warm from the indoor heat, delicious pizza and camaraderie, I lowered my head and replied, "No. I'm over it this winter."<br /><br />I'm not a "winter-loving native Minnesotan." The truth is I'll never be a native of anywhere unless I move to West Virginia to live out the rest of my days (but I haven't lived there in over 30 years). Perhaps his question touched more than one nerve.<br /><br />But who am I to drag you down even farther? After all, from sea to shining sea, we've all felt the icy slap of Old Man Winter this year. Well, I'm not so sure Old Man Winter ain't behaving like nothing more than a baby boomer whose retirement account tanked with the recession. He's pissed and he's taking it out on the rest of us 'cause he had to sell the RV, move into a shitty studio apartment and start drinking Popov vodka martinis.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHSat_QQvQpWE3OLzZiarv4azkFdpKNPhJj3VjcsZlR4uWqVBq6CGADaIjzLIQZXw8elHR8nryALte6-J0ayiqpeuWG-kpMRKVV4xDMcrzQMllLxfNQBeQ37vEnuQZBFomB2fD6qGi0R0/s1600/Holidays_2010+034.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565964431469229922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHSat_QQvQpWE3OLzZiarv4azkFdpKNPhJj3VjcsZlR4uWqVBq6CGADaIjzLIQZXw8elHR8nryALte6-J0ayiqpeuWG-kpMRKVV4xDMcrzQMllLxfNQBeQ37vEnuQZBFomB2fD6qGi0R0/s320/Holidays_2010+034.jpg" /></a><br /><br />No, friends, I am here to share the enlightened wisdom of a 5-year old. My daughter Sylvia has crafted, in true Letterman fashion, her second (yes, this is number 2 written just tonight -- since the first one went missing) list of reasons to dislike winter. I submit for your consideration her list in ascending order:<br /><br />(Oh, by the way, I should mention I'm preserving the spelling for your enjoyment. Laugh and think like a kid for a minute. It will do you more good than all those corny email forwards your relatives send you. C'mon, you know you get them too ...)<br /><br /><em>reesins we do not like outside<br />1. it is to colde<br />2. it is to windy<br />3. you can't do math<br />4. you can't cut and glew<br />5. you can't do progeckt's<br />6. you can't make papr chanes<br />7. you can't draw pichrs<br />8. you can't play elid fodetag<br />9. you cant run<br />10. your feet get stuck<br />11. you haf to put on snow close</em><br /><br />I have no idea what a couple of those things mean ... well, specifically, number 8. Sylvia's asleep so I can't ask her. The etymologist in me, however, can't help but revel in the similarity of some kid words to old English (but not in the O.E. 800 way).<br /><br />Getting back to the coarser topic of the weather: The Earth is gonna tilt again soon and we'll all get to go about fuckin' it up with our internal combustion fascination. With top down and music loud, we'll use great speed and reckless abandon to prove ourselves. Oh man, those will be the daze. Warm and horny without a care in the world.<br /><br />Maybe winter's not so bad.<br /><br />Be well, people.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-23302661326674958892011-01-04T19:21:00.003-06:002011-01-16T01:32:06.581-06:00Mincing WordsI’m a fan of words. I can safely say words – the study of the English language and the examination of mechanics, grammar and vocabulary that unite to create meaning – are the one thing I’ve studied my whole life yet never lost interest in learning more about. Perhaps that’s because language binds together everything we do in life. It is fascinating to me that the study of language is not something to be mastered; I will never reach a level where I am confident I can stop, a level where learning more is deemed frivolous or unnecessary. The peculiar thing about language is that we all regress or lapse into lazy patterns of speaking and writing based on interactions with peer groups or the lack of stimulation brought about by fresh words and phrases. I’m in a phase where I’m working against that tendency.<br /><br />I am not a fan of phrases that permeate our common discourse yet utterly fail to purvey any truth or meaning. Examples of these abound. It’s true that we need a common lexicon of everyday jargon, slang and idiomatic expression. It is part of our cultural glue. I’m not downing those familiar turns of phrase. However, I believe there are some significant ways we negligently attempt to convey meanings that fall short of stating what truly happened or why. I’d like to focus on a couple that pertain to cycling, or more specifically the perilous side of cycling in the age of the automobile.<br /><br />I began thinking critically about some common phrases and expressions five years ago while renewing literature studies at Metro State University in St Paul. I was enrolled in an information studies course where we examined electronic media and methods of evaluating bias in reporting. I wanted to complete a report linked to bicycle advocacy issues. I did not find all the information I needed for the report, but found some very interesting essays along the way. The articles that intrigued me dissected the prevalent tendency to categorize tragic collisions between motorists and pedestrians or cyclists as “accidents.” How many times do we hear on the news or read in the paper something to the effect of “Automobile Accident Leaves Walker/Cyclist Dead”? Or when reading an account you learn details such as: “Officers concluded the death was an accident. No citation was issued.” It was an accident. We have a dead person and someone who is visibly shaken and affects remorse. Case closed.<br /><br />I’m not going to pick apart the definition of accident because we have assigned meaning to the word that makes it appropriate to use in cases where the outcome was unexpected. However, what of negligence? Or fault? And what about incidents where the severity of outcome was not unexpected but could have been avoided altogether (i.e. denied intentionality)? Is temporary anger an accident? Strong emotions or hatred (e.g. road rage)? Can these things cause what is truly an accident or is it something more?<br /><br />My father got us involved in a radical church when I was in middle school. I have mixed feelings about that time in my life, but that’s a topic for another post (if not a chapter in a book – or an entire book). The minister of that church was a former big city police officer. He was kind of a smug, authoritarian, know-it-all prick at times. One of his regular rants was about accidents. He’d go blue on the face defending the stance that there is no such thing as an accident. Really, no such thing. And he believed, to a fault, there was shared blame for every situation. In theory this makes a lot of sense, but it leaves little room for getting shot while walking down the sidewalk or being rear-ended by an inattentive driver. Occasionally bad things happen to people who have done nothing to provoke the outcome. That’s an accident, right?<br /><br />This idea that there’s no such thing as an accident that has been composting in my brain for the past 20+ years. I’ve come to the conclusion that it holds water, certainly in a theoretical sense, but in the real world, too. There are many steps we can all take to avoid “accidents” that become clearer in hindsight. We say all the time: I should have slowed down, looked the other way, watched where I was going, etc. If we can say these things resolutely, does that not blur the distinction as an accident? The more years I log as a regular bike commuter I’ve come to appreciate this idea of no such thing as accidents. After all, am I not more than 50% responsible for my safety every time I travel by bike? I like to think I operate my bike in a way that holds me more in the 85-90% responsibility range because I try to anticipate the behavior of drivers around me. Is that realistic though?<br /><br />It’s begun to sink in – it’s not the word (accident) or the expression (it was an accident) that gets under my skin, it’s the implication of the word or phrase. In our society, labeling something an accident negates accountability or fault. And in many cases an accident is chocked up as Fate waving its fickle hand at some poor (injured, maimed or dead) person who should have exercised better judgment. Labeling the death of a human as an accident opens wide the tendency to blame the abstract or uncontrollable (fate, chance, the now-dead victim, the weather) and absolve others so we can get on with life. That’s worthwhile, eh? No doubt, it contributes to the uniformity of cultural discourse and preserves cultural flow. Some would argue this is paramount – to preserve the order of people going about things as normal. However, when our culture is anchored by such graven images as the automobile – a sacred cow that represents much of the status quo, yet is as empty as any idol cast down by early Christian zealots – I assert the cultural discourse must be challenged.<br /><br />Is it not possible to prove, by simple anecdotal evidence, that there is inverse proportionality between the consequences of culpability and the willingness to admit fault? If the stakes are low (you trample your neighbor’s flowers) it’s easy to knock on the door, say ‘sorry’ and offer to replant them. You know this person (hopefully) and realize the value of preserving a peaceful relationship with him or her since it can benefit you down the road. If the stakes are high (you kill someone by striking them with your car) it’s much more savory to blame something beyond control (chance) and shrug responsibility (and penalty) by playing the accident card. The person was most likely a stranger. You didn’t know them or their family. And what were they doing walking there or riding their bike in the road anyway? ‘I only looked away for a second. My gosh, I didn’t even see him!’ The report states accident. Case closed.<br /><br />If you’ve not inferred by now my point is the accident claim is a slippery slope. The variables are myriad and so intricate that they deserve more than a cursory label printed in short newspaper headlines and uttered thousands of times in news reports every day. As much as I sometimes despised that parochial figure from my youth, I believe it only fitting to give him credit for calling a spade a spade. An accident is not an accident, but rather a conveniently relabeled trapdoor used to jettison happenings that otherwise might call into question too many of the presumptions upon which our realities are based.<br /><br />One of the most steadfast presumptions propping up our American reality is that automobiles are vitally important and their operators must be given the most generous benefit of the doubt so we can keep cars on the road, which in turn justifies the need to keep more cars on the road. The result is a grotesque disregard for other forms of viable, human-powered locomotion and the human right to life of those who choose to engage in those alternatives.<br /><br />The second phrase I intended to pick apart is related, but the explanation is much shorter, so bear with me. What is the greatest fear of most cyclists? That’s easy – being hit by a car. Cyclists and non-cyclists alike rattle that off without a pause: So-and-so got “hit by a car.”<br /><br />Have you ever thought about that phrase though? It’s ridiculous and nonsensical. One may be physically impacted by the outer shell of an automobile, but one does not get “hit by a car.” This casual phrase that is firmly rooted in our speech personifies the automobile, giving it life, intention and action. Now, one could argue that we have personified automobiles in our culture for as long as they’ve been in existence. How else does one love, pamper and worship something unless it has form? However, my point is not to launch a complex analysis of the role of the automobile within American culture, but to correlate the notion of culpability discussed above.<br /><br />Personifying the car absolves the driver. It removes one step toward erasing human blame and labeling an incident an accident (it’s the car’s fault). However, the logical retort is plain – cars don’t think or act. I can’t pass up the opportunity to twist a gun rights bumper sticker into a defense of my point. The sticker reads: “Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.” The logic is sound. Cars don’t kill people. People kill people. Eschew personification and face the ugly fact: Intentionally or not, drivers kill people with their cars. Whether it’s inattentiveness (texting, talking, changing the station), lack of skill and ability or maliciousness, I’m putting it out there – automobile accidents are not accidents at all. They are caused, there is responsibility, there should be culpability and there should be penalty.<br /><br />Some would laugh at that argument, saying “but a gun is a weapon.” Really, is a gun a weapon? No, technically a gun is a tool (not unlike a car). A gun is a weapon if used to threaten or harm another human being. My Swiss Army knife is a tool, too. Most people (outside of an airport security line) would laugh at its classification as a weapon. However, in trained or determined hands it could be an effective one. Still, I am allowed to carry it with me most places every day.<br /><br />Can a car be a weapon? Well, if you are someone who quickly leaps to label a gun a weapon, the answer is ‘damn straight.’ Drivers threaten people with their cars everyday. That is precisely the next leap we must make in the American psyche. Hell, most of us consider guns weapons but more and more states are allowing citizens to legally carry them. It’s no stretch, the proof is there – cars are used as weapons everyday to threaten and harm. Yet, in the event of an “accident” all that’s needed to evade penalty is a simple mention of the ubiquitous A word. It’s a sociopath’s dream.<br /><br />Let’s not stop reclassification with guns and cars and Swiss Army knives. Our culture is full of tools, both physical (e.g. baseball bats, tire irons, ax handles) and intangible (think ideas and philosophies), that are routinely transformed into weapons. What of power, strength and maleness, money and resources, hunger, inequality, dogma and doctrine? But that thesis is the topic of another future essay.<br /><br />If you're not sufficiently tired of reading, I'll leave you with <a href="http://www.bicyclelaw.com/articles/a.cfm/legally-speaking-cant-we-do-better">one of the saddest bike-car stories I've ever read</a>.<br /><br />Be well, be kind, be nice when it hurts.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-31081847598252954362011-01-04T19:12:00.002-06:002011-01-04T19:21:23.339-06:00Looking ForwardWhile I'm partially digesting the next essay I'll regurgitate in the form of a full post, have a nibble on the <a href="http://www.grist.org/article/2011-01-03-the-year-ahead-in-bikes">The Year Ahead in Bikes </a>courtesy of Grist.org.<br /><br />There's some good stuff in there like increased bike sharing programs, more people going car-free and cities adopting transportation philosophies that rewrite so much of the archaic, automobile-centric layout we contend with now. There's also some not so bright stuff like the possible increase in bias against bikes and biking infrastructure. And that is precisely what my next entry will be about.<br /><br />Subzero temps have been the overnight norm in the 6-1-2 lately. Be well and stay warm.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-67219726692485432302010-12-22T21:40:00.003-06:002010-12-22T22:37:00.424-06:00Exclusive Breaking News!After numerous bicycle commutes and walking forays following our recent snowstorms in Mpls, yours truly, editor of Urban-Crawl, could discern no rhyme or reason to the City's plowing methods and criteria. So, I decided to dig a little further. <br /><br />While I had to pay two informants an undisclosed sum in Northern Lager Light (case packs) and gift cards to Sauce Wine Bar, as well as guarantee their complete anonymity, the cost was well worth the dirt I've uncovered. That's the grimy dirt that lay well below many of the unplowed and poorly cleared paths we cyclists have been forced to contend with so far this season.<br /><br />It seems the City's plot is two-fold, but equally sinister at both turns. <br /><br />My first correspondent, code name Hans Hunyuk, holds a position with Mpls Public Works. We spoke via Skype using an elaborate system of multinational relays. I posed a simple question in layman's terms: "Hans, how come the snow plowing is so shitty this year?"<br /><br />He replied: "Oh yah, da City's made a lotta cost savin' measures dis year, ya know. Like skippin' da corners of every street and jus' pilin' snow on da sidewalks. Plus, der hirin' rookie plow drivers from Florida and Arizona to clear what we call, uh (he paused as if to pluck the term from memory) ... da 'non-essential routes'." <br /><br />I pressed Hans for clarity just what he meant by "non-esential routes": "Well, der da trails around da lakes and all dem paths da skinny folk go ridin' bikes and joggin' in der funny outfits. Dat's da best place to go a-practicin' yer plowin', ya know."<br /><br />I thanked Hans as we cut the conversation short to avoid a trace (but not before I got a few tips on the best holes this year at Mille Lacs).<br /><br />My second informant, who goes by Zoe, is a fashion consultant/writer for a local trendy rag. In her spare time she's a social media maven focusing on conspiracy theory surrounding the City's dark inner workings. I'm not on Facebook so we texted. (I've expanded some of the text language because that stuff annoys me anyway, but I had trouble keeping up with her machine-gun texting prowess):<br /><br />"The City doesn't care about bikers. They wish their hippie scum would move to Portland where they belong, so they've launched an aggressive campaign to strip away all the amenities you people have bragged so much about. The City needs new stadiums after all. Ones with real goddamn roofs."<br /><br />"What might those amenities be, Zoe?" I queried.<br /><br />"OMG, don't give me that shit! You know, 'Oh they plow our paths FIRST before the streets. They're smooth as a blow mirror. Blah, blah. We're number one in the nation now. Ha, f-ck Portland!' You know the lines, Dagwood." (That was the best code name I could muster on short notice.)<br /><br />Zoe went on: "Well, blow me! I'm sick of your whiny crap because you naive bunch of sweaty, smelly, badly dressed misfits are gonna get screwed over like the rest of us. This town's no place for my art, my sensibilities and I don't give a shit whoever else they put the screws to either. You'll see."<br /><br />Her last text read: "BTW WTF! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST DRIVE A FUCKING CAR IN WINTER LIKE THE REST OF US????"<br /><br />I thought it best to forego thanking Zoe and instead contacted my cell provider to immediately have my number changed.<br /><br />Well, there you have it folks. The City's definitely put cycling low on the list with snow removal this year. And it could be standard operating procedure going forward. Pray for subzero, because the warmer this unplowed stuff gets the nastier it's going to be when it does freeze hard.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-70718260067835668632010-12-21T16:58:00.002-06:002010-12-21T22:45:43.050-06:00Happy Solstice<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKtlC8yKGP2j7nucsZTLI1xpHUzZNcWghq3lOf3HUXB4ZYeQN7W4yt63w31xDrAWC_iJSsaVdQ5hVDtWEWietyCzDTvhM9dCvpeaXw-gT8t_cAdZGt_1I73Ixz1wxJ30b5TIqqwsMOqFW/s1600/Proof+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKtlC8yKGP2j7nucsZTLI1xpHUzZNcWghq3lOf3HUXB4ZYeQN7W4yt63w31xDrAWC_iJSsaVdQ5hVDtWEWietyCzDTvhM9dCvpeaXw-gT8t_cAdZGt_1I73Ixz1wxJ30b5TIqqwsMOqFW/s320/Proof+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553361082778931698" /></a><br />Sylvia made a small Solstice shrine tonight, complete with candles and an original illustration to show the lengthening days.<br /><br />We’re on the uphill side of daylight. Uphill if you consider the days will lengthen between now and spring; as in, we’re no longer descending into darkness. That’s downhill, I guess, if you consider it’s an effortless slide toward longer days. Either way you label it, I’ll take it. I'm not averse to winter but I like daylight.<br /><br />Unlike the growing days ahead, the weather’s been anything but effortless, however. Mother Nature is working hard to make us work harder here in the 6-1-2. I rode to work yesterday morning in a pleasant snowfall. I was aboard the fixed gear Cross-Check, deciding to give my experiment with Pugsley commuting a break. The Check has Schwalbe Marathon Cross 40c tires on it. They are great for snow and feel like racing rubber compared to the 4” footprint of Pugsley. I kept my chin up in spite of the impending accumulation. Keep in mind some park paths still haven’t been plowed from our mega-snow a week and a half ago. I admit the reality of more snow made me wonder whether, as some of my cycling friends have posited, the city is giving up on clearing some of the smaller paths. <br /><br />Shortly after arriving at work it REALLY started to snow and didn’t let up for about 5 hours. I’m glad I waited it out rather than leave work early, since I was able to avoid most of the automobile traffic congestion as well as the poor visibility from the heavy snow. I did have a fresh snow depth of 5” to contend with. No problem, I thought. I’ll slog through the residential connectors and hook up with the plowed main roads as available. <br /><br />Out of the parking lot and into the street I began the zig-zagging pattern that inevitably greets the cyclist navigating the compacted cookie dough left by hundreds of car tires. That’s not my favorite kind of riding for sure, but it lasted no more than a quarter mile since the sidewalk connection I take to avoid a major road was snowed in. Someone on a fat tire bike looked to have successfully cleaned it earlier, but I was not able to hold a sufficient line to keep momentum. Oh well, the evening was warm so I dismounted for a half-mile walk to the next residential street. Remounting on the next street I proceeded to zig-zag some more. A half mile later I popped out onto a nicely plowed secondary and began sailing along with a decent tailwind. <br /><br />A couple miles down the road I turned onto another residential and got stuck on a hill. Off again and more hike-a-bike for a hundred yards. I was working up a pretty good sweat on these walking sections – no cold feet tonight. At first I thought the wetness on the outside of my wind shell was my body perspiring through the well-worn nylon. But I rethought that as I realized the moisture on my face wasn’t sweat at all, but a fine, misting rain falling. As I hooked up with the main road for a 6-mile push straight north I carried some steady speed. The windchill created froze the slick layer to my jacket and mittens. I’ve never had that happen before on a ride. It seemed plenty cold enough that anything falling should be frozen, but it wasn’t. The few sections of clear pavement were beginning to crust a thin layer of ice. Nice. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5h-8JhjeUih3oRc7H_gtlZcP9JGwKx96ej-Gdh6bm11alHbmwnUfyQ7jsT8R_JYa1v1oeOmYATpz016rqNZqZAkv7MwkQqLQI8F5poYBvxPuK0KF5rTX14MTpbfk4OB6c5vXMRV1olGEY/s1600/Proof+001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5h-8JhjeUih3oRc7H_gtlZcP9JGwKx96ej-Gdh6bm11alHbmwnUfyQ7jsT8R_JYa1v1oeOmYATpz016rqNZqZAkv7MwkQqLQI8F5poYBvxPuK0KF5rTX14MTpbfk4OB6c5vXMRV1olGEY/s320/Proof+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553361073082069682" /></a><br />My helmet and mittens, encrusted in ice, upon arrival at home.<br /><br />Rounding Lake Calhoun I had the one and only driver of the night shout something I couldn’t quite make out as he passed. I could discern that it was directed at me and was derogatory in nature. I’m sure plenty of drivers think riding a bike in the snow and ice is dangerous, stupid and perhaps should even be outlawed. So be it. Do they really think driving in the snow and ice is particularly smart? Especially when so many continue to drive at unsafe speeds and behave recklessly with little regard for other non-drivers exercising their right to get peacefully from point A to B. This thought led to pondering the city’s philosophy of clearing snow. The emphasis is placed on restoring the ability of average motorists to confidently return to the streets. The resulting piles of snow on walkways and paths (some are impassible and will remain until spring) prove the concerns of the driver take precedence. It’s a shame since I regard those of us who choose to explore alternatives to driving to be the saner, safer variables in the equation during any season of the year. The internal-combustion-driven wheels of commerce must keep turning, however. <br /><br />I expunged the negativity quickly because I was within a mile of the saving grace of winter cyclists – the greenway system. This peaceful ribbon is reliably plowed during snowfalls making it one of the best parts of any commute. I stopped off for a few cans of fizzy liquid refreshment to celebrate this most epic of solstice commutes upon my safe arrival at home. Moving quickly, I tried to avoid shedding my entire layer of ice in the store and made my exit back into the steady snow that had resumed. <br /><br />Minutes later I rolled my tires onto the greenway where my enthusiasm quickly flagged. It hadn’t been plowed. Not only had the path gone uncleared, but a generous number of walkers and a couple skiers had already chopped up the way. I wanted my Pugsley but had no alternative. My skinny tires cut back and forth in the all-too-familiar zig-zag pattern. In addition I was fighting to turn over the gear in the deep snow. Moving to the edges didn’t help since they had been pocked from footfalls as well. A man was jogging ahead of me. Under normal conditions I would have rapidly overtaken him and left him behind. Tonight I was struggling to catch him. The effort to guide the bike and crank the gear was wrenching my lower back. My cyclometer read 4-5mph. I gave in about 2 miles from home, reasoning I could walk almost as fast and save my back for shoveling snow when I got home. <br /><br />I walked for a while, cursing the city’s lax snow removal practices so far this season. As I left the last row of visible houses behind I noticed the warmth in the air and the glow of the full moon illuminating the dense, gray cloud cover. Then I remembered I had beer in my panniers. Propping the bike against a snow bank I introduced a celebratory crack into the silent night air. Then I took a few minutes to quench my thirst and ponder the beauty of it all – a fresh snowfall, peace and quiet in the middle of the city, plans that don’t work out but turn out okay in the end. <br /><br />Feeling somewhat refreshed, I trudged the final mile of walking, post-holed across the railroad tracks and ascended the spiral ramp into Bryn Mawr. I rode the last stretch toward home, stowed my bike in the garage and mustered a soggy grumble ‘hello’ to the family. Still a bit chafed by the city’s untimely snow removal this season I swapped jackets and headed out to grab the shovel and complete my own snow removal responsibilities. <br /><br />Happy Solstice, friends. Winter’s here.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-66427410074158775672010-12-17T11:36:00.005-06:002010-12-17T12:19:58.461-06:00Best of 2010 (continued)2010 was a busy year. I've been thinking over the past few weeks about the things I enjoyed, milestones that were passed and memories that will warm my heart over the coming winter months.<br /><br />I returned to Germany (made two trips there this year actually). A couple of my associates took me to a hometown beer festival in Forchheim outside Nuremberg. It's called Annafest and celebrates the famed beer kellers (cellars) burrowed into the massive hillside where the festival takes place.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwC1WQFyUjKdqDQtFe7eeiBw7JJUmdeMLEfkAhRZjiOf0b6s6i2oGEIpqb4R1kMNyuqALnfLab_ywdjMnfj6BY3PYgm4l76Y7O-gaxSqrXHE6-FGGZ6Pntt5j9maAVYg1j-zZgPV9UMib_/s1600/COsmic_Meeting_2010+006.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551711194222028946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwC1WQFyUjKdqDQtFe7eeiBw7JJUmdeMLEfkAhRZjiOf0b6s6i2oGEIpqb4R1kMNyuqALnfLab_ywdjMnfj6BY3PYgm4l76Y7O-gaxSqrXHE6-FGGZ6Pntt5j9maAVYg1j-zZgPV9UMib_/s320/COsmic_Meeting_2010+006.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrvBHElzEJcIJJfiMs8jvvGDstNHUers5e7yq8SC6yWDrRJnojkP2tgrfagBxwzGcu-ZOwOC8zbvJrP9VS6oLhGY4J2SSIc92K7tcsSZUV1u90kdHwfHc1PCAR_0nr-g2QMasggazeeHW/s1600/COsmic_Meeting_2010+053.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551711189571700514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrvBHElzEJcIJJfiMs8jvvGDstNHUers5e7yq8SC6yWDrRJnojkP2tgrfagBxwzGcu-ZOwOC8zbvJrP9VS6oLhGY4J2SSIc92K7tcsSZUV1u90kdHwfHc1PCAR_0nr-g2QMasggazeeHW/s320/COsmic_Meeting_2010+053.jpg" /></a><br />Of course there is the beautiful scenery of Bavaria. Although it was late July the evenings were cool and the days sunny and warm. Perfect for riding and we got to do some of that, too. It's a bonus that my work travel doesn't consist of landing in a country and going straight to a convention center or conference to be locked indoors the entire time. Riding bikes is part of the job.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBIkIUkIOH-_wfTGYc8Vlb8_EYxbmvT4TeTTNw8LNpwz1ZYwXn10iZeHDW5yy3inzgmEn4xE2rmeevHT-L53dTVdN_z0XxTp7jx5sJrmH-481qeF7PscK0ej6ztUuHsGKJW-j7sFEd9fJp/s1600/COsmic_Meeting_2010+051.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551708654392156690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBIkIUkIOH-_wfTGYc8Vlb8_EYxbmvT4TeTTNw8LNpwz1ZYwXn10iZeHDW5yy3inzgmEn4xE2rmeevHT-L53dTVdN_z0XxTp7jx5sJrmH-481qeF7PscK0ej6ztUuHsGKJW-j7sFEd9fJp/s320/COsmic_Meeting_2010+051.jpg" /></a><br />Also this summer we went north to our friends' cabin. Charlie and Kathy are the girls' adopted grandparents. Our family is lucky to have them in our lives. They have a very impressive little getaway perched on a rock outcrop overlooking Lake Superior. I'm not much for the MN "cabin culture" but in my opinion this is doing it right. Their place had an amazingly settling energy about it. The structure is sustainable and fits with the landscape, literally built into the bedrock of the hillside.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHH32TPX_1tALdEQMTeEWbjzxUNxnmfBnWLpGTtLpheXP0KnamUVCi6b-rFJ16H1Nu1YvudkeQQVfCXyC_43RTPvpDwtLcCb1V7b7iVIkIpaEjXRE_aXRo8JiPF9d0VW2OjZZrCQRIB_g/s1600/July4_Trip_North+007.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551708664900607522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHH32TPX_1tALdEQMTeEWbjzxUNxnmfBnWLpGTtLpheXP0KnamUVCi6b-rFJ16H1Nu1YvudkeQQVfCXyC_43RTPvpDwtLcCb1V7b7iVIkIpaEjXRE_aXRo8JiPF9d0VW2OjZZrCQRIB_g/s320/July4_Trip_North+007.jpg" /></a> <br />We broke away for an overnight trip into the BWCAW. It was our first canoe trip in 5 years. That's far too long between adventures. Even though the Boundary Waters is in the same state, it's a big commitment in time and planning to make a trip happen. Here April looks a little soggy. We'd just emerged from sheltering beneath some trees while an impressive thunderstorm blew threw.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi51MozyBwaF_kyRPR1rWLbc0oPfm5SsKJTz5WQoWmTd1FmTFwRsjQLR4WTa0wBUrwXBtbhFByPSMr0yI0UBwuYOPAeAxOBjHHUMqCaY8gkDpyaA-V2nel4Qu_hu-LqdD3ycNTLWdL77tE/s1600/July4_Trip_North+027.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551708659847807282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi51MozyBwaF_kyRPR1rWLbc0oPfm5SsKJTz5WQoWmTd1FmTFwRsjQLR4WTa0wBUrwXBtbhFByPSMr0yI0UBwuYOPAeAxOBjHHUMqCaY8gkDpyaA-V2nel4Qu_hu-LqdD3ycNTLWdL77tE/s320/July4_Trip_North+027.jpg" /></a> <br />After camping we ventured to Grand Marais with the girls. The town was hopping in honor of the Fourth of July holiday. We fled the packed sidewalks to wander on the rocks sheltering the bay. Grand Marais is a special place. If you've never been and you get the chance to go, don't pass it up.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtL7tTw343-2N39rPMJtpaofs6CcHbF5DR3K0NP1NYoekuP2NN_EHgwxnhxSwsknzsjKZDvXTp-leSDPvf3Ves0cZXZPTek6SDuKf7vObUebRObAxY8dIvNw8oO3FIdbgJ7PIWmcP54P9/s1600/July4_Trip_North+042.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551708667174738482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtL7tTw343-2N39rPMJtpaofs6CcHbF5DR3K0NP1NYoekuP2NN_EHgwxnhxSwsknzsjKZDvXTp-leSDPvf3Ves0cZXZPTek6SDuKf7vObUebRObAxY8dIvNw8oO3FIdbgJ7PIWmcP54P9/s320/July4_Trip_North+042.jpg" /></a> <br />More on 2010 later, I'm sure. For now, forget Christmas -- have you made solstice plans for Tuesday? This year it's a full moon and an eclipse. Fortuitous indeed.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-88054609331882627322010-12-08T19:03:00.001-06:002010-12-08T19:03:01.214-06:00Best of 2010<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPlO_5M18x_6o8zEGEZRVPFSL-yih1eSzxRPUVN4lApGIctgOT5BD-mEVttE2bW2e97xAkEGpTL1DFflfpIug6kXwyf-W0JvHs5GmtkMGgHmMwYTPzcs99COeWTZNUBBMkmMP6htVHNvJK/s1600/Family_Misc+004.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPlO_5M18x_6o8zEGEZRVPFSL-yih1eSzxRPUVN4lApGIctgOT5BD-mEVttE2bW2e97xAkEGpTL1DFflfpIug6kXwyf-W0JvHs5GmtkMGgHmMwYTPzcs99COeWTZNUBBMkmMP6htVHNvJK/s320/Family_Misc+004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548142769432596002" /></a><br /><br />Sylvia confidently riding her own bike a long way.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-56210348272575039282010-12-07T20:27:00.002-06:002010-12-07T20:57:08.955-06:00LazinessIt's not quite winter, but winter has arrived in MN. We have about 8" of standing snow on the ground in Mpls and temperatures are holding below freezing. It's forecast to be below zero (F) tonight. The last snowfall came on Friday. I walked to get the kids from the babysitter today (Tuesday) and was a bit dismayed that most people in our neighborhod have not shoveled the curb cuts. That basically meant I could not push the stroller on our sidewalks; I had to resort to walking in the road. Same as it usually is in winter, I suppose.<br /><br />When I shovel snow on our walk I clear at least a single swipe or a portion of the walk for both our immediate neighbors. I figure this is just being, well, neighborly. They tend to occasionally return the favor, which is a bonus. In addition, if we tell them we're gone for the weekend and it happens to snow they usually have our backs. Beyond that though I think about the common good. People who can't walk so well, but must, have a much easier time on a shoveled walkway. I shudder to think about those confined to wheelchairs living in MN. Once the snow piles up high enough few people consider a full width for passage.<br /><br />Challenges with neighbors are relative I guess. Our previous neighbors were rude and sometimes hostile. We placed over half a dozen police calls against the building during the 18 months they lived there. Since then, the building went into foreclosure and was purchased by a conscientious landlord who renovated the place.<br /><br />We now have seemingly affluent and quiet neighbors. They drive nice cars and mind their own business. They're almost too quiet. In a queer way I miss the noise from time to time. The silence is rarely broken by the four tenants -- save for one woman's automatic car starter which she uses to fire up her white Chevy Yukon sometimes 45 minutes before she comes out to drive it away. That grossly negates the 3-minute idling rule Mpls passed a few years back. <br /><br />I have a problem with remote car starters, but I will spare you a full-fledged rant. I try to maintain an open mind. I knew someone a few years ago who moved here from a warmer overseas climate. She claimed she had an allergy to the cold. I understand we have identified a whole slough of modern allergies that were unknown in olden days. However, I have a difficult time accepting the existence of an allergy to environmental cold.<br /><br />My own laziness is settling in. Getting myself on the bike for the 32 miles of daily pedaling to and from work has been more of a challenge. My toes are cold most of the way. It takes so long to dress and prep. If only it were 5 miles instead of 16. The list of 'If onlies' goes on.<br /><br />Ah, inertia. Bless your inspiring, yet inanimate, heart.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-12345642169451287772010-11-27T22:35:00.003-06:002010-11-27T23:35:41.321-06:00The OtherI do not like you<br />I do not like what you stand for<br />I have not sought to speak, discuss or debate with you directly<br />but I need know nothing else<br />I do not like you or what you stand for<br />I have my reasons<br />and they are sufficient<br /><br />I do not see in you <br />humanity<br />commonality<br />Those like you swiped down towers,<br />spread as waste all you can conquer<br />in an effort to destroy my identity<br />I do not like you<br />And I do not like what you stand for<br /><br />I have the luxury of living within my comfortable space,<br />a place where I can form the opinions that comfort me,<br />a place where I can proclaim myself to be oppressed,<br />a place of private judgment against any and all<br />Do not challenge me<br />I will only call you the dick,<br />the villain,<br />and proclaim any and all claims against me erroneous<br />hereafter the Victim<br />I do not like you<br />And I do not like what you stand for<br /><br />Of course, I contest, <br />there are no generalizations here --<br />after all, your kind are all alike<br />As oppressors I do not see what you can possibly contribute<br />to any constructive discourse<br />So I will profile you,<br />avoid you,<br />document and revile you,<br />fear and build fear against you,<br />detain you,<br />torture you<br />So that I may feel safe,<br />feel free<br /><br />I do not like you<br />And I do not like what you stand for<br />Why is that not enough?<br /><br />This might not be necessary<br />if you'd simply observe the requirements<br /><br />Why can't you conform, re-shape and fall into line?<br />Pray to my god<br />Eat the same things I eat<br />Fuck the same way I fuck<br />Believe the same lies I quote<br />What's wrong with you, anyway?<br /><br />I can't stand you<br />You're not calling bullshit on me<br />You're not asking me to the table<br />because I won't have it<br />I'll fake<br />a headache<br />a tremor<br />a 19th-century episode<br />anything to avoid speaking with you<br /><br />I can't stand you<br />and I won't stand for this<br />it is my entitlement<br />Do not bother me with reconsidering that<br /><br />I need you to be evil<br />so I can feel pure<br />Together we can preserve this model<br />that is vital to my belief system<br />But to that end,<br />it's convenient,<br />I don't require your cooperation<br /><br />So fuck off<br />and let me hate you.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-66572095480832370692010-11-03T00:40:00.002-05:002010-11-03T01:40:40.289-05:00Resolution?I got a reply from Metro Transit. This pleased me since my prior experience (as I noted) was the run-around. I'd like to encourage any of you who have similar experiences to log them officially, no matter where you live. The reply is below, but first I'd like to post my complaint:<br /><br /><em>My encounter this morning with one of the Be Line busses proves the vehicle is aptly named. The driver was apparently “be lining” it to his next stop as he sped past me on my bicycle, clearing me by no more than 18”. I was cycling westbound on Poplar Bridge Rd on my way to work at 9:55am. I was in the shoulder (right of the white line) and there is a full center turning lane on this road. In addition, there were no eastbound vehicles present. Three facts – 1) I was not in the lane, 2) There was an empty turning lane to the driver’s left, and 3) No oncoming traffic was present – frame one important conclusion: There is no reasonable excuse this driver shouldn’t have allowed the 3ft passing distance proscribed by MN state law. While I begrudge belligerence frequently from private motorists, I believe professional drivers should have the training, skills and tolerance to observe all traffic laws and operate their vehicles with concern not only for their passengers but all other users of the road. In the case of those operating large vehicles such as trucks or busses that can cause sufficient wind disturbance to affect bike control, failure to provide a safe passing distance endangers cyclists’ lives. The last (and only other) time I filed a complaint about a bus driver’s behavior toward me on my bicycle it went no where. I was told since I hadn’t gotten the driver’s number you couldn’t identify the driver since no such bus runs on that street at that time … . I expect nothing more this time. However, I sincerely hope Metro Transit enforces operator policies that promote greater safety for cyclists. This is only the second complaint I’ve filed. As a regular bicycle commuter, however, I’ve witnessed numerous instances of behavior by bus drivers that indicates some need additional training on sharing the road.</em><br /><br />Here's the reply from Metro Transit I received this morning:<br /><em>Good Morning Mr. Fleck, You are right, our driver should allow you a 3 foot clearance on the road. Especially if there is no on coming from the other side and there is a middle turn lane. I am apologizing for our driver for not giving you that clearance. When I asked him about it, he said that he doesn’t remember seeing you at all that day. I have given him a warning about paying attention and I hope that there will be no more instances like this. I am glad that you are not hurt due to this encroachment into your space. Again, I apologize for our driver and I will be reminding all of our drivers to give the proper clearance in our next safety meeting. If you have any other issues, please feel free to contact me. Thank you for your input.<br /><br />Steve Youmans<br />Road Supervisor<br />Transit Team<br />612-332-3323</em><br /><br />Of note: Steve's email address is donald.youmans@metc.state.mn.us <br />He also copied Michael Richter (his boss?)whose email address is Michael.Richter@metc.state.mn.us<br /><br />In short, if you live in the TC and experience a problem with a bus driver I encourage you to file a complaint with my encouragement to send it directly to the email addresses above.<br /><br />Sadly, "doesn't remember seeing you at all that day" is a convenient excuse pulled by drivers involved in fatal crashes every day. But, friends, we'll fight each battle as it comes.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-47802319193180724532010-10-25T20:51:00.003-05:002010-10-25T23:55:59.133-05:00A Clean RideI’ve made up a few games I occasionally play during my bike commutes. A 16 mile ride that follows the same basic route can seem mundane from time to time. I’d conjecture others who regularly ride longer distances do similar things. I used to think about cadence and heart rate. I’ll never tire of pursuing the perfect pedal stroke, but I don’t race anymore so the training aspect of my rides is no longer a consideration. <br /><br />There are plenty of other things to think about. I’ve written hundreds of mental to-do lists in my brain over the years. I’ve had more than one great idea for a business venture, a woodworking project, a gift for the kids or April. Heck, I even come up with some damn fine ideas for blog posts while I’m pedaling. (The current entry not withstanding.) <br /><br />Every once in a while though I like resort to little rituals, things that don’t distract me. A few examples: I chant mantras when I pass flattened critters who couldn’t outrun the death machine in time; I practice memorizing license plate numbers (I picked up that one from Brother Nick Sande); I’ll spend a portion of my ride consciously reminding myself to breathe with intention; I sing a playlist from a bad 70s and 80s radio station that broadcasts 24/7 from the dark recesses of my brain; I’ll see how much of the Cedar Lake Trail I can ride no-handed. <br /><br />There’s one thing I dig above most any other, however. I get a special thrill from achieving what I call the “clean ride.” This has nothing to do with the Pro Tour peloton or doping scandals. It’s the rare occasion when I leave my house, clip in at my driveway and don’t set a foot down until I arrive at the door of my office. No interruptions, just 16 smooth miles of constant rolling at a steady pace. I can’t trackstand worth a piss, so I don’t count that. I’m talking about setting out with an empty mind, not even trying to make it happen. Then one-third of or halfway to work I realize, “All the intersections have been clear, the lights have been green. A few more and I will have a clean ride!” <br /><br />If I rode mostly bike paths this would be a normal thing. But I ride across several major roads and through some busy interchanges. By my count there are 7, maybe 8, places I regularly must stop and put a foot down. There are another handful of possible snags on top of those. Getting everything lined up is a special occasion. Or so I think. Besides, it’s my dorky game anyway. <br /><br />I was on my way to a clean ride this very morning. The weather was perfect for fall – overcast and 50s. Rain was in the forecast but I stayed dry the whole way in. I got that little tingle as I approached the halfway mark. With each successive intersection I rolled cleanly through my excitement grew. I was so giddy I approached the one hill of the ride – a steep bump on Poplar Bridge Rd – with glee instead of a sigh. I decided to let myself grab a smaller gear and stay in the saddle. After all, the clean ride ain’t about speed it’s about alignment of the constellations, working with harmonic energy, wheels spinning in synch with the world around, baby! Halfway up the hill I was feeling a little winded but ecstatic. The clean ride was practically realized; it was mine. <br /><br />That’s precisely the moment the Metro Transit “Be Line” express bus be-lined its way straight past me. I was positioned right of the white line, in a comfortably wide shoulder but this guy, driving a freaking bus no less, chose to buzz me with 18” to spare. He had an empty middle turning lane to pull over. There were no cars coming down the hill. In other words, he had no excuse for nearly hitting me as he booked by at over 30 miles per hour. I was livid. I gave him the long floating finger while I muttered epithets in disbelief. “You had the whole road, asshole. Why did you, a ‘professional’ driver need to pull that stupid trick?” <br /><br />The mojo of my clean ride was broken. Within 90 seconds I pulled up to the final light of my commute. It was red. I know this light. It’s long. It hates the very thought of the clean ride. The light is evil. It’s in cahoots with the bus driver. <br /><br />The bus and its driver were in the turning lane. I pulled up parallel with one lane separating us. I contemplated knocking on the door to inquire what the hell his issue was to drive like that. I didn’t though. I stared him down. He’d seen me ride up. I saw his head turn as I approached the line. He stared straight ahead while we waited, never making eye contact. The son-of-a-bitch knew full well what he’d done. There were no passengers on the bus. He was smug and proud. I noted the time (9.55am) and his vehicle number (6015) and filed a complaint with Metro Transit after arriving at work. <br /><br />I filed one other complaint a few years ago against a bus driver who cut me off egregiously, forcing me into the curb on Bryant Ave. It went no where. I don’t expect this one to get much further. For the two complaints I’ve filed I’ve had dozens of close calls with buses and reasons to file complaints on a few other occasions, but didn’t. I ride the bus from time to time. I’ve observed the drivers and how they interact with cyclists, quietly from the passenger seat. I can say there are many patient, competent bus drivers out there. I can also attest there are sociopathic bus drivers out there. For that demented subset perhaps intimidating cyclists is one of their mindless pastimes while they endure the drudgery of the daily route. In a twisted way there’s probably some truth to that. At least my little games aren't designed to intimidate or hurt anyone. These yokels need to find new jobs. <br /><br />I’ve had a theory for quite some time. I strongly contend that habitual driving is psychologically unbalancing. The DOT might as well require a psych exam along with the vision screening and road test for professional drivers. Because worse than some nut job driving his Ford Explorer like a belligerent jerk, I truly cringe at the thought of encountering an intolerant wacko driving a bus, dump truck or semi – any vehicle capable of turning me inside out instantly.<br /><br />My vision of a clean ride does not involve viscera smeared across the pavement, my organs or anyone else's.<br /><br />Damn you drivers. Whether it's delusion or stupor -- wake the fuck up.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-14878867357339006002010-10-18T19:23:00.005-05:002010-10-19T00:20:06.805-05:00Warming the BenchThe moon is waxing. Daylight is waning as the evening temperatures fall. We have yet to turn the heat on in our house, but April's mentioned (and I've noticed) how chilly it's getting in here. Every year I believe we should hold out until some arbitrary date before setting the thermostat. I told April this evening that date is Nov 1. I don't think we'll make it that long without firing up the boiler, however.<br /><br />I'm entering the period of introspection. I'm prone to turning inward but the fall has always been a time when I focus on contemplation. This year, more than any other in recent memory, I have compiled a rich mound of experiential manure to mentally compost this winter. Fortunately decay releases heat, so perhaps I can utilize this as a back-up source of warmth on the cold bike rides ahead.<br /><br />For all intents and purposes wood shop season is over. It's getting cold enough that soon I will have to move wood glue and waterstones into the basement. I've considered many times installing insulation in my garage. I waffle though, reasoning the lack of full electrical service and other attributes make this less than ideal for a potential future owner. Read that as I won't get my money back (and it might be a less than ideal solution anyway). This year I intended to repair some siding and paint the garage too. That will have to wait along with the rest of the list that seemed so doable 7 or 8 months ago.<br /><br />I was moderately productive this year for as often as I was traveling. I had intended to launch into a full-scale piece of furniture like a bed or table. While I did not accomplish either I tightened up some shop fixtures and organization. I also made a very nice frame as our friends' wedding present (see earlier post). I had sketched some plans for an entry bench, too, with the idea to build this from reclaimed wood stowed away in the garage rafters. Since I had the plank of wood and the project was not complex I decided this would be my last real project for the year.<br /><br />Stored in our garage is all the original interior trim before our house was reconfigured, as well as some leftover timber from various projects. The board in question was a 2x12 plank nearly 10ft long with two rusty steel L brackets affixed to either end. I figured it was an old scaffold board since it had two colors of paint splotches and burn marks from soldering. Plus the whole surface was gray weathered and checked in spots. I have no idea how old it is, but it did measure 1 1/2 by 11 1/4", so it's not old enough to be true dimensional lumber as some other timbers in our house are.<br /><br />One thing is for certain, it was too large and fair a piece of wood to cut and burn. The board was nearly flat and true over its entire 10ft length -- a rare trait in 2x lumber. I have a keen interest in conserving lumber. Wood takes a long time to grow and is typically wasteful to harvest. I regard it to be a precious commodity. With all this in mind I set out to adapt a design that would look decent (i.e. not look like it was built with Home Depot lumber) and allow me to have some fun with joinery.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9F8QupLR2n6dy5UtBdcGKw1AA2EQgL3kcFd6qDfShME0IbCknqMrkU4-obWdF3LX1HqLyemMl4EPG-7isA0VQr-CP0Je3M9CxBFoXltdtUSECpasdGM882cIneBOe6furIRoGVJ_USDC/s1600/Bench+001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529568093501188450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9F8QupLR2n6dy5UtBdcGKw1AA2EQgL3kcFd6qDfShME0IbCknqMrkU4-obWdF3LX1HqLyemMl4EPG-7isA0VQr-CP0Je3M9CxBFoXltdtUSECpasdGM882cIneBOe6furIRoGVJ_USDC/s320/Bench+001.jpg" /></a> This doesn't look like much but it is the four pieces of the bench cut to rough size. Four pieces and four joints -- simple, eh? I belt sanded the pieces and left all the screw holes and other damage. Planing it down was possible. I might have eliminated most of these flaws and made the wood more dimensionally appealing, but I wanted the piece to look intentionally built from a piece of construction lumber that most jobsites would have burned or thrown away.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGsEkiLCsFd4_xjqyc2JHENaNgoyJVNoNHpGVivug5hz7AjcRncyasoOHaGXMIWMRFd9RimxCkraxNfCClC6BySykv1hPzI3PfksV7sIms4yrIHGGCgqufwLwyjZ2xDRXM7uoQtVIWgEA/s1600/Bench+002.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529568091760920546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGsEkiLCsFd4_xjqyc2JHENaNgoyJVNoNHpGVivug5hz7AjcRncyasoOHaGXMIWMRFd9RimxCkraxNfCClC6BySykv1hPzI3PfksV7sIms4yrIHGGCgqufwLwyjZ2xDRXM7uoQtVIWgEA/s320/Bench+002.jpg" /></a> Early stages -- I made a template and routed the rough mortises on the top and legs. I found a compromise with the tenon/mortise width that allowed me to cut them all the same size, thereby utilizing one template.</div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00lW4X_qsIHneIA6XSeUq5BQ32AySNWyy4M9bInsoue5UvVs5c3NClT7fJC8ucQU6vlIDA2xCCrvN0bfYIRbIEVqmjANhxBlPGKKo-buWI0JaYYaBk5aNdVCvBngzL7vsX8R8xAcEd174/s1600/Bench+003.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529568087104587538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00lW4X_qsIHneIA6XSeUq5BQ32AySNWyy4M9bInsoue5UvVs5c3NClT7fJC8ucQU6vlIDA2xCCrvN0bfYIRbIEVqmjANhxBlPGKKo-buWI0JaYYaBk5aNdVCvBngzL7vsX8R8xAcEd174/s320/Bench+003.jpg" /></a> The whole piece has mass -- physical and aesthetic. That's frequently a problem with 2x lumber. To lighten the appearance I planned a diamond cutout to let light through. The waste of each mortise and diamond is relieved with the drill press and router; all the corners were cut and squared with chisels and mallet. The notch at the bottom of the legs also lightens the form and echoes the angular motif. Here the legs and top are stacked to allow a brief glimpse of the final shape beginning to take form.</div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU78psXl33gTajAH2dFQ284fkMAIFscmbrwPwyNGME5GSJn2mvvOX7fuIIZIepCfFXttQj644c1J2DHCcRgbTcKf7cx1rI9B7BmW7thOHAzecqxQ5xt6KIw2ZXHO0gYjyoUold-TTRe6FU/s1600/Bench+004.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529565806899910034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU78psXl33gTajAH2dFQ284fkMAIFscmbrwPwyNGME5GSJn2mvvOX7fuIIZIepCfFXttQj644c1J2DHCcRgbTcKf7cx1rI9B7BmW7thOHAzecqxQ5xt6KIw2ZXHO0gYjyoUold-TTRe6FU/s320/Bench+004.jpg" /></a> Both the top and leg mortises are cut to partial depth in the middle to accept a stub tenon. With tenons cut the hand tools are used to fit everything. This is the slow (and fun) part in my opinion. It's quiet with no earplugs or safety glasses required.</div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0lyC0ATzSgeB-4W3UrWpTp5pPPVGMadrbSA9Sa5jN31rnBmzJFF78LnsGAcUo8mCBAHJVFjGLosQmsdWuMa7n4-v9rry882hrIQN5kVaNQ_J8WwPLdpj5dxFYV3QhZpg5Swu8pLU81jXx/s1600/Bench+005.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529565797564318114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0lyC0ATzSgeB-4W3UrWpTp5pPPVGMadrbSA9Sa5jN31rnBmzJFF78LnsGAcUo8mCBAHJVFjGLosQmsdWuMa7n4-v9rry882hrIQN5kVaNQ_J8WwPLdpj5dxFYV3QhZpg5Swu8pLU81jXx/s320/Bench+005.jpg" /></a> This is the top of one leg detailing the stub tenon in the middle while both sides are through tenons. The joint is extremely strong since it provides a lot of glue surface and will later be wedged. (Note the burn mark from soldering at the left. This board saw some action in its day.)</div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJt99Lwqc7AlQgAMqXOQONQKrgcjsxR1GdpYjXxmZYC-f17-jKYFR5B6YIUVQaZ3oFi7Tk1xg8wZxYJmAcCFKaQELDedobt8px0cnKYIBAZvz66wOuH3HqNIpl8tBSaRd9gcPQMvE-ity/s1600/Bench+006.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529565791844379282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJt99Lwqc7AlQgAMqXOQONQKrgcjsxR1GdpYjXxmZYC-f17-jKYFR5B6YIUVQaZ3oFi7Tk1xg8wZxYJmAcCFKaQELDedobt8px0cnKYIBAZvz66wOuH3HqNIpl8tBSaRd9gcPQMvE-ity/s320/Bench+006.jpg" /></a> Garage door open wide and working in the sun and fresh air. Here I'm cleaning up the mortises in the top. The tenons are cut fat and shaved with a plane to close the gaps. It pays to work slowly with a square close at hand to make sure everything is being fitted as precisely as possible. The tapers on the legs have been cut. Again, that visually lightens the piece since structurally it wouldn't matter.</div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtsVEFF7AA7ikqkHrifo_nvPH_HV0jtZuht3PNGBRgYf45Cu-w38mfTq4Hq5cyWhWudi7YKyKMi3igmnsFajYTiUFN7BltBiRyeHq-Gn0mA0KUB1xYvsgtWFbysTzx0_ny6Dl4vJXL5Ki/s1600/Bench+007.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529565784607474194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtsVEFF7AA7ikqkHrifo_nvPH_HV0jtZuht3PNGBRgYf45Cu-w38mfTq4Hq5cyWhWudi7YKyKMi3igmnsFajYTiUFN7BltBiRyeHq-Gn0mA0KUB1xYvsgtWFbysTzx0_ny6Dl4vJXL5Ki/s320/Bench+007.jpg" /></a> The legs are mating nicely and I'm moving onto the stretcher. I carried over the diamond cutouts in that as well.</div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuu5x0A7RJo-We1fXHFQTSt_97ALCU29CMcnQx103NSGgwIK2fa5OYB96fu60UAPjSuQG_cFxPOBrGTX83JAVgExW03D9kVs20uc7vPpHPWlTaDJfqcVT2DxGL3Fj9LWqoynHX53HCdsh/s1600/Bench+009.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529560406142106242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuu5x0A7RJo-We1fXHFQTSt_97ALCU29CMcnQx103NSGgwIK2fa5OYB96fu60UAPjSuQG_cFxPOBrGTX83JAVgExW03D9kVs20uc7vPpHPWlTaDJfqcVT2DxGL3Fj9LWqoynHX53HCdsh/s320/Bench+009.jpg" /></a> Here is a detail of the stretcher tenon. These are through tenons mortised to accept a square tapered key. The key is a wedge that can be tapped farther in to tighten the legs over time and resist racking forces that could pop the legs loose. As tight as the leg tenons were in the top I realized I might have skipped this step but the outcome would be a nice visual element in the overall piece. I've also added some chamfers to blend the raw edge grain with the weathered faces.</div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSC79HjixBZO8VHJgzrcyETpFQWEat6M9MxXU_JRZKX0tYoeHLV_kl3CgtvMMngiQwshTowPTQNLcT0tfXXvlK0gnJXidTZz8SZH9fF7qSsVJifW5Zl86UXbGYPrX0nC7rThniFwxLkOcL/s1600/Bench+010.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529560398081188178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSC79HjixBZO8VHJgzrcyETpFQWEat6M9MxXU_JRZKX0tYoeHLV_kl3CgtvMMngiQwshTowPTQNLcT0tfXXvlK0gnJXidTZz8SZH9fF7qSsVJifW5Zl86UXbGYPrX0nC7rThniFwxLkOcL/s320/Bench+010.jpg" /></a> Here is the matching mortise that accepts the previous through tenon from the stretcher. The middle portion creates a pocket for the stub tenon. The chamfer detail was added to each of the diamonds, but I chose not to chamfer the legs or top of the piece. These details can be overdone making a piece of furniture look like you got too happy with the router.</div><br /><div>After this step I dry fit all the pieces. They went together tight. It was beautiful, my best joinery to date. In disassembling them I had a mishap. The board had a surface split its entire length that went about 1/4 of the way through the board. Since the tenons spanned this I didn't worry -- they'd reinforce it all. However, tapping the dry fit assembly apart I completely split one of the legs in two. I had little choice but glue it back together and hope for the best. The next morning I inspected the results and they looked good. Reluctant to rely on a glue joint alone, I was contemplating how to drill a deep enough hole to sink some dowel reinforcements. Eventually it occurred to me I needn't worry. The tenon placement would hold everything together. Beauty.</div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09h0kZzv96wpOvWJwFswj5pRsA7Cf8mgTawsyKgrZYD0UdftBmdoFGgiJpTg-R08_nxgn4EtE6Sgs0xXSBZx_6Qx0VbINJNmyzdGETfnyHyfaGW_r2thuL-7Y0Pu7JT7ATyv68vXv6Oaw/s1600/Bench+011.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529560389196816706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09h0kZzv96wpOvWJwFswj5pRsA7Cf8mgTawsyKgrZYD0UdftBmdoFGgiJpTg-R08_nxgn4EtE6Sgs0xXSBZx_6Qx0VbINJNmyzdGETfnyHyfaGW_r2thuL-7Y0Pu7JT7ATyv68vXv6Oaw/s320/Bench+011.jpg" /></a> The glue-up was like most glue-ups meaning everything does not go exactly as planned. I had a tough time getting the top seated and created another small crack in one end while "coaxing" it into place with a few anti-Zen mallet blows. Clamps picked up the slack though and things were looking good. Angles were 90 degrees, joints sealed and I got all the parts in the proper order.</div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUAQeslO8_kWf3EJ4X3niCWrKrqr16BKIb4DyEpWYuG_quj6JOkcIfVQAjPrPfJromeyfPqnvZ4kJjIpM0P0ywphwpgHZzPwoekTdmMT6_3-M9ZrMWrYqHJOwxObWVwe2c_fk_hXC33fr/s1600/Bench+012.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529560383639624674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUAQeslO8_kWf3EJ4X3niCWrKrqr16BKIb4DyEpWYuG_quj6JOkcIfVQAjPrPfJromeyfPqnvZ4kJjIpM0P0ywphwpgHZzPwoekTdmMT6_3-M9ZrMWrYqHJOwxObWVwe2c_fk_hXC33fr/s320/Bench+012.jpg" /></a> The only pieces not cut from the same board were these cherry wedges driven into the tenons on the top. This was a technique I learned from my previous picture frame project. It spreads the tenon and locks everything in place. I'm a fan of bombproof joinery and am regularly accused of overbuilding things. I think there are worse shortcomings for an aspiring woodworker.</div><br /><div>One of the revelatory details I've picked up about joinery is how one cuts projecting components long. Enter the hand tools. After everything is dry, a flush cut saw, chisel and finely set block plane make it all smooth. Notice the knot between the tenons. In laying out this project I had to be very deliberate with where critical through-cuts would land to avoid disaster like a blowout from attempting to chisel out a mortise in a knot.</div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirebRFIdkXR2ARaGlVEtSHcydgKFYVKPBwx_rlt104le1rYirRMWZQltJKsT98KsbXXHsXGRChKn2KLCy5tLFsioQq0vfnzmOdJjizDKum5zNCv2GcUbV0LAcnnwYwN01NpKBPyDSIDpQ0/s1600/Bench+013.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529560381296899986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirebRFIdkXR2ARaGlVEtSHcydgKFYVKPBwx_rlt104le1rYirRMWZQltJKsT98KsbXXHsXGRChKn2KLCy5tLFsioQq0vfnzmOdJjizDKum5zNCv2GcUbV0LAcnnwYwN01NpKBPyDSIDpQ0/s320/Bench+013.jpg" /></a> I cleaned up the glue squeeze out and cut the stretcher tenon keys from the tapered leg off-cuts. The whole thing got a little more sanding and a couple of coats of boiled linseed oil. There's no stain at all. The weathered pine turned out very golden and reddish in spots -- with burn marks, holes and green and white paint stains. I'm happy that the piece has the elements I set out to preserve with more natural patina than I'd imagined. Finished dimensions are 36" long, 18" tall and about 11 1/4" deep. It's the perfect size for our front entry where guests can use it to remove and put on shoes. Mostly Sylvia uses it to stack her stuff when she gets home from school.</div><br /><div>There's nothing special about the design but I wanted a piece that was Arts and Crafts inspired. I think I achieved that with strong angles, a dark appearance and bold joinery. After I finished the project though, I felt a bit let down. I'd invested all this time into a chunk of old pine. Shouldn't I have poured that energy into a finer wood and achieved a more refined piece in the end? I don't necessarily think so. This bench is in use now and it works quite well for what it was meant to be.</div><br /><div>Last Saturday morning we happened to be watching PBS. Many people (whether or not they ever make a speck of sawdust) have heard of Norm Abram and the New Yankee Workshop. Well, he retired and there is a new show in town called Rough Cut with a younger, hunkier star. We saw our first episode last weekend. As Tommy assembled a walnut trestle table from rough lumber, April told me she could better appreciate each of the steps I put into my projects seeing them laid out in a 30 minute TV program. It makes sense -- there's no way she's going to spend 9 hours in a weekend day watching all the details unfold. While I'll never build a piece of furniture in 30 minutes (neither Norm nor Tommy could either) it's helpful to note that every time I assemble a piece my precision increases and the time required diminishes. That's pretty sweet.</div>Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-31334754879848606542010-09-17T09:29:00.002-05:002010-09-17T09:42:33.227-05:00Right on!Here's a delicious quote from Dr. Ian Roberts, professor of public health at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine and trustee of RoadPeace (this is in part a response to a World Safety Conference theme that 'youth, music and poverty' are significant causes of road deaths in Britain):<br /><br /><em>“We must reclaim our streets and neighbourhoods from the lethal motor vehicle traffic that currently blights them so that we can begin to move our bodies again, in the way that they were designed to be moved. Youth and music are not the causes of road death – wealthy middle aged men who refuse to surrender their cars, or even consider alternative forms of transport, are the problem.”</em><br /><br />And here's a tasty sweet to follow that substantial main course assertion:<br /><br /><em>“Our dependence on motorised transport has made us fatter and less fit. It has made the roads more dangerous for pedestrians and cyclists, and driven many them off the streets and back into their cars, further increasing the demand for transport. It has made controlling oil supplies the primary strategic objective of nation states so that scarce resources that should be devoted to building a sustainable economy are instead spent on war and destruction.<br /><br />“We should look to a future where there will be fewer road deaths and injuries, cleaner air and much less traffic noise. Urban infrastructure must show a new respect for humanity. The torrent of lies that has been used to justify the ‘accidental’ deaths of 3,000 people each day on the world’s roads and the daily disabling of 30,000 more, will take its place in history alongside the justifications for slavery, racism and imperial war.”</em><br /><br />Check out the <a href="http://road.cc/node/23987?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=2010-09-17">entire article from the UK's Road.cc</a><br /><br />And here's a link to <a href="http://www.roadpeace.org/">RoadPeace</a><br /><br />Bully for folks raising awareness of the negative tolls of automobile culture and unveiling a long-view approach to assessing its impact upon our world.Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6686836919298979885.post-58793848748862816392010-09-14T19:06:00.002-05:002010-09-14T19:12:19.241-05:00Ha<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAC8vIjqhqh5lvznX5faPQy4qykcGcG4FsXSWi9i_rnQwGsmWY7ViGpWk6f_SskhQnnLEJZSBBt6UHCjWHJ4MVMM9UwrrADNBEPvAsWgZistHU1Cd8D5wH7UCcY7RccCVOs2D4oZfV9-cw/s1600/Ang_Eric_Wedding_6.26.2010+038.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516925886753540818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAC8vIjqhqh5lvznX5faPQy4qykcGcG4FsXSWi9i_rnQwGsmWY7ViGpWk6f_SskhQnnLEJZSBBt6UHCjWHJ4MVMM9UwrrADNBEPvAsWgZistHU1Cd8D5wH7UCcY7RccCVOs2D4oZfV9-cw/s320/Ang_Eric_Wedding_6.26.2010+038.jpg" /></a> Fall is coming. Here is a summer memory. Willa at the aforementioned wedding of our friends. Classic two-year-old behavior. Or maybe she was just emulating me.<br /><br />Cheers. Ride yer damn bike.<br /><div></div>Patch O'Houlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689502417806841807noreply@blogger.com0