Look where the @#$% you are going, motorist!

A friend of mine was hit by a car yesterday afternoon. 4 PM, so not dark at all (a bit sunny, in fact), semi-clear skies (dry road), and stopped for a red light. The two (or more) flashers mounted to his cargo trailer were on blinky mode. I'll quote Ian's post to a local list server:

So I guess I'm not as lucky as the bike ninja ......around 4pm I was hit from behind while sitting at a red light. (Ewing & Frankfort) The 20something driver stuck her head out and asked if I was ok and what I needed, I said I was not okay and needed her info.....
I turned to get my note pad and she took off!  I got the plate, made a report (was told by LMPD it would be available in 10 days), chatted with EMS ( who was trying to convince me that he just saw me 1.5 weeks ago on an emergency run....
I still think he was messing with me, kinda pissed me off)  and now I'm at the ER getting checked out. While at the light, I was sitting on the top tube with on foot on the ground and when hit the saddle jabbed my lower back pretty good. So, no soup the rest of the week while things get sorted.  -Ian.   PS, I had all my blinkies on, too.

"Hit and run" like this is a misdemeanor crime. The motorist could be fined up to $2000 and jailed for up to a year, although realistically, she'll likely get a lesser sentence, and that's IF she is successfully prosecuted (or charged at all) by Louisville Metro Government.

Motorists need to be held accountable for their actions. This one clearly was not willing to be an adult and accept that there are consequences for inattentive "operation" of a motor vehicle.

Edit: This has even made the web site of the Courier-Journal.

Sheesh!

Mileage updated

After I made my post about nearing five thousand miles for the year, it occurred to me that I had not gotten around to editing my logs for July, August and September after my recalibration episode in late September. A couple of things changed when I corrected the entries I could justify fixing, but the two that stand out were that my July mileage went over eight hundred and my YTD mileage is now over 5100!

With a month and a half to go, I can reasonably expect to exceed 5500 miles for the calendar year, unless the weather turns to absolute junk in December.

Wowsers!

The third of four nights of the November Tool School is tonight. I'm looking forward to working with these folks on what for many is the meat of the class--working on shifting systems! After spending an hour and a half or so on derailleurs, cables, and the like, we'll go on to discuss other fun things about their bikes. Everybody is going to replace at least one shift cable tonight!

Lots o' miles

As of my return home today, I'm three round trips to work shy of five thousand miles for this year. That's 5000 miles. That, dear readers (both of you), is a personal record.

My prior personal record was about three thousand, in a "fiscal year" instead of a calendar year, that being the time from May or so of 1999, when I moved into my mother's house to reduce my commute to my then-new job at a bike shop in Middletown to late April of the following year, a time that saw me commuting by bike more often than not (plus riding a fair bit with my friend, Harry on most Wednesdays).

I didn't track the miles well enough over the time I worked for New Directions to get even a semi-accurate count, so I don't really know how much I rode in the year between the time I was assigned the property manager position in N'Awb'ny and the time I left New Directions in July of 2009. I rode to work fairly often during the four months or so prior to my title change at that agency, but it was typically a "drive to work on Monday, hauling the bike in the process, then drive home on Friday so I could have my truck for the weekend" thing. I raised a few eyebrows with my willingness to bicycle much of the time while I worked as a property manager, as I recall. It was during that time that I started keeping this blog, too. I could probably go back through those posts and figure out a rough estimate of how many times I rode to work and what sort of miles I compiled, but it isn't really worth my time right now.

It's kind of neat to be setting new personal records with every mile I ride. Knowing that I've been doing so for a couple weeks (if I had to guess, I'd say I rode 4K miles in the year before I started working at the bike shop as my primary job) is kind of neat, too.

It fits with the other personal record I set daily: Every day, I set a new record for the number of days I've been happily married. Of course, given that I'm in the second year of my first marriage, well...

Evil Deity and other readings

The Copenhagenize blog for the other day was titled, Evil Deity. You probably already know why Mikael would post a quote with such a title, but it's worth a read. Some of the comments are illuminating, too.

After about a month of studying cases, I put to my first term torts students a couple of hypothetical questions. The first concerns an ‘evil deity.’ ‘Suppose,’ I ask my students, ‘such a deity were to appear to you, as president of this country or as controller of our legal system, and offer a gift, a boon, which would make life more pleasant, more enjoyable than it is today. The gift can be anything you want — be as idealistic, or as obscene, or as greedy as you wish — except that it cannot save lives.’ Later I will drop even that requirement. ‘The evil deity suggests that he can deliver this gift in exchange for one thing … the lives of one thousand young men and women picked by him at random who will each year die horrible deaths.’

When I ask, ‘Would you accept?’ my students almost uniformly answer, ‘No.’ Indeed, they are shocked that one could even ask the question. I then ask, quietly, what the difference is between this gift and the automobile, which takes some fifty-five thousand lives each year.

– Guido Calabresi, Ideals, Beliefs, Attitudes, and the Law, 1985

 I could go on and on about evil deities that people worship--or evil done in the name of someone's deity of choice. I make no secret that I'm an atheist, and have been for many years.

I recently enjoyed reading The God Virus: How Religion Infects Our Lives and Culture, by Darrel M. Ray, Ed.D.  If you are even a little bit skeptical of what the church of the day is teaching you, this book is worth a read. If you have left organized religion behind, or are contemplating doing so, this book is a good read, as it gives some thoughts on how to deal with religious folks who cannot fathom your choice, why they cannot, and more.

Having enjoyed that book, my curiosity was piqued when Jenn brought home Why People Believe Weird Things by Micheal Shermer. I read the foreword by Stephen Jay Gould last night, and the introduction to the paperback edition by the author, and have begun reading the first chapter. It looks to be another promising read, discussing skepticism as a method rather than as a position.

From the time I first saw the book, though, the author's name jumped out at me. Having had some involvement with Race Across America, I had encountered descriptions of a condition experienced by RAAM racers called "Shermer's Neck," in which the neck muscles are so fatigued that the rider literally cannot hold his or her head up to see the road ahead. The condition is named after a guy who raced in the first years of RAAM, one Micheal Shermer, who is indeed the author of this book.

Small world, eh?

Tool School has begun

I wound up driving to work Monday, in order to haul my two repair stands for use during the Park Tool School class I'm teaching. The first of four sessions was Monday night, with the second evening later today. It's going to be another great group of folks, from all indications, but I was still grateful to see that one of my students posted about her experience in her blog. I will, of course, strive to live up to the expectations that have been set so far, and exceed them if I can.

Since I drove Monday, it was Tuesday before I got to do my first post-time-change commute. Leaving an hour later by solar time made for a brighter morning ride, to be sure. The ride home was in darkness from the time I walked out the door, meaning I didn't leave the lights off for the first couple of miles of my trip, as I had been doing last week. One result is that I will have to keep closer tabs on my headlight run time between charges, as it's more like an hour of use every day, and I supposedly have a bit more than four hours' burn time per charge.

I had ridden the Raleigh to work one day last week, and got part-way home before the battery charge indicator started flashing its twenty-minute warning. I reduced the light intensity, knowing that doing so would extend my run time a fair bit, and it was more than enough to get me home before the lights went out--literally--which they have done before when I lost track of use times. Fortunately, at 3/4 power I still have plenty of light to see where I'm going, what with the ambient light along the more populated stretches of Westport Road. I could ride on 3/4 light intensity most, if not all, of the time, but like the extra brightness to help other road users see where I am.

stuck horn

On this morning's ride to work--on the Raleigh, just to be different and weird--I had a guy behind me as I approached the underpass for I-265 (proper name: The Jefferson Freeway, although its current name is Shameless Political Hack, er, Gene Snyder Freeway) who chose to express something by hitting his horn. It apparently got stuck, as it continued sounding for at least ten seconds before he got it to stop, right before passing me too closely. I don't know what his problem was--I was in the slow lane, and if he wanted to go faster, he could have, especially given that he was driving a Porsche 928. Of course, he turned in to do business at the body shop just three hundred yards farther along the road, and had to wait for the traffic light at Chamberlain Lane before he got there (as did I).

Shortly before reaching the Collins Lane light, a twit in a Mazda Miata chose to pass me while oncoming traffic was RIGHT THERE. He passed IN MY LANE, mere inches from me. Had I needed to swerve for a pothole, he would have been defending his choices to a police officer while he received a ticket for illegal passing.

I keep wishing I had something like Wolverine fingernails for such jerks, so that I can endanger their danger machines in self-defense. I'm about to make a side flag for my bikes, with a sharp, barbed tip on the end of the pole, barely hidden in the end of the flag...

Flag update

On my ride to work this morning, I noted that the Sad Flag has been removed. I can't take credit for bringing it to the owner's attention, as I do not have contact information with which to do so. However, I must say that a bare pole is far less depressing than the tattered flag that was there.

I sincerely hope that the owner doesn't let the next flag get that torn before replacing it.

Sad Flag

 

I've been thinking about this flag a lot lately. I pass it every day on my way to and from work. It's looked bad since it was installed, to replace an also-far-beyond-worn-out flag. When it was first put up there, the bottom third of the flag was unsecured to the halyard--suggesting to me that the flag was larger than should be flown from this pole. It is never lit at night--something strictly against all flag display protocols I've ever read.

I see a lot of flags that are torn, faded, or otherwise flown incorrectly. I can only imagine that the people responsible for displaying said flags consider themselves patriots. I'm not here to question their patriotism--I'll give them the benefit of the doubt on that. Leaving a beat-up, torn, faded flag aloft is terribly disrespectful, in my opinion, and far from patriotic. A quick dip into the pool of google yielded a short list of rules regarding flag display, and this one is wrong on several counts.

Yet, I find this one a bit symbolic for our time. As we reach election day 2010, we have a society divided by rhetoric and vitriol--rent, if you will, by discord. Much of the angry verbiage seems to come from folks who mistake angry diatribes from giving enough of a shit to do something productive about their gripes, or perhaps who at some level realize that doing something productive would mean that they could no longer gripe.

If you have a flag aloft, please have a look at it. If it's worn, frayed, torn or faded, please replace it. Offer it to a VFW post or Scout troop for proper retirement.

Speaking of proper retirement, I find it ironic that "proper retirement" typically involves a ritual burning of worn-out flags. Far more flags are burned in this manner than are burned in protest of our country and its principles, yet mention burning a flag and see what kind of vitriol spews from self-proclaimed patriots sitting near you.

VOTE

I just got back to the house from voting. It took me longer to vote than it did to ride my bicycle to the polling place.

Of course, part of what took so long there was that the machine that counts the votes was not functioning properly. To some degree, it reminded me of the Stalinesque quote: He who votes decides nothing. He who counts the votes decides everything.

Here's to hoping your vote gets counted properly.

Facebook "EEEEEK!!"

Well, not much of one.

Those of you on facebook know how it suggests friends, based on whatever algorithm it follows. Usually, the suggested friends have friends in common, and it will say something like "4 friends in common."

Other times, though, it simply suggests people, with no indication that there are friends in common or why I would want to befriend that person.

One such occasion came about over the weekend. The person suggested was a former girlfriend, with whom I've not had contact in over two years. When I ended the dating relationship, I was willing to be platonic friends. However, that was not to be--there was much rancor from her and her family over the split.

I don't know why facebook would suggest her to me. It didn't mention any friends in common.

I don't wish her ill--I wish her all the best. However, I'm glad to have moved on. If I hadn't, I would not have met Jenn (I wouldn't have been looking, in other words). My relationship with Jenn is far healthier. I'm happier. Life is good, except for those times when it's even better.

Still, it's a weird feeling to see facebook suggest that she and I be friends.

VOTE

As I type this, it is Monday morning, the first of November. We have had to listen to a season of ugliness in campaigns ranging from School Board to US Senator, with candidates ranging from out-of-touch to outright looney. I'm sick to death of having to vote against an even more idiotic candidate, but vote I will.

I would like very much to be able to vote FOR someone instead of against someone else. I've only been able to do that once or twice in my life. It's axiomatic that the folks who would do the best job in elected positions are not willing to do what it takes to get to those positions.

Even so, and even though I will have to hold my metaphorical nose while in the confines of the voting booth, I will vote. I have to do my patriotic duty to try to keep the more severe nutcases out of office.

Dinking around online in a slow moment at the store, I found a pretty cool blog called Free Range Kids. Having read a few of her posts, I encourage you to do likewise.

I don't have any kids of my own, and my stepdaughters are both over eighteen. Still, I see folks being "helicopter parents," and wonder what they are teaching their children, aside from fear of "different."

And I think that fear of "different" is one of the more severe problems we face in our society right now.

Fear, and how it is allowed to run people's lives, has broken up relationships. For me. It was a major factor in why I broke up with a woman I had figured I would be marrying. She was afraid of life in too many ways.

I understand taking reasonable precautions. I also realize that the balance point of reasonable/outrageous varies from person to person. I'm comfortable with riding a bike instead of driving most of the time. I do take measures to make my riding safer, like riding where I will be seen by other road users and making my bike easier to see than most. Some think it nuts that I'd expose myself to as much danger as they perceive me facing on a daily basis.

I've looked at a fair number of statistical analysis exercises, and riding is safer than driving in many ways. I'm certainly less of a threat to the pedestrians, other road users and inanimate objects near my path than a car would be.

In any event, have a look at Free Range Kids. Drop Ms. Skenazy a line, or leave me your thoughts.

Back on the bike

After three days of driving to work, I got to ride this morning.

I keep having to justify driving. Saturday, I drove to maximize time after work with a friend who was scheduled to come to town. I was miffed at myself when I realized that I could have hauled the tandem then instead of driving on Monday. I was also disappointed when I talked to my friend and learned that he had a sinus infection and was staying home instead of coming to town.

So, I drove Monday to haul the tandem out so that I could have my machinist friend examine it, as mentioned previously. I drove Tuesday to haul the bike home (and to avoid riding in near-gale-force winds).

Tuesday's high note was that I got to eat dinner with Jenn and her oldest daughter. I think the shorthand for it is IMMD.

I got to ride today, though. It felt good. I'm looking forward to my ride home as well.

The Screamer is atilt

When we bought our Screamer in August, I figured I had enough "hours in type" that I didn't need to do a pre-purchase test-ride. Over the first several times Jenn and I rode it, I worked on tweaking the seat position and handlebar position to get them where I was most comfortable, but I always felt things were a little "off."

For one thing, the captain's seat had a peculiar and disquieting ability to move on the roll-axis. I made a temporary fix for this with some folded aluminum foil in the form of a shim between the RANS Rad-Lok seat clamp and its centering rail, and went on our merry way.

The thing still felt a bit "off," though. My right knee would rub the front brake cable once in a while, and the handlebar felt as if it was off-center to the right. If I centered myself on the handlebar riser, I was off-center in the seat, but the bike felt a bit better otherwise. It took me a few rides to zero in on this, but there it was--my seat was following my political bent by leaning to the left.

I removed the seat and figured out a primitive, if effective, way to measure whether the Rad-Lok rail was centered on the frame, using a couple of carpenters' squares (the top and bottom tubes of the frame are of differing diameters). The rail was off-center by a thirty-second of an inch.

1/32" doesn't seem like much. However, at one inch from the axis of rotation, that 1/32" translates to over 3/4" at the top of a 22" tall seat--enough to be awkward for any length of time.

Of course, as we are the third owners of the bike, RANS was not about to do any warranty service work. To their credit, however, their staff was willing to brainstorm with me a bit, which led me to consider making or having made a new rail to center the seat--this time with the screw holes offset enough to have things more in alignment.

I spoke with a friend and customer who is a machinist by trade, figuring that he'd have access to better milling equipment than anything I have, and hoping that he'd have a way of getting a more accurate measurement of the problem.

He didn't have a ready improvement on my measuring trick, but was willing to help me with the rail. I picked up the new rail from him a while ago. I plan to install it on the bike tonight and see how it works. I won't be able to ride the bike for a few days, yet, though. While he and I were measuring and figuring out how things go together, the struts supporting the seat back broke.

I'd rather they break in the shop than during a ride. They can't be but so expensive, so having a new set won't hurt the wallet as much as having them break during a ride would hurt other parts of me.

CX mania

Last Thursday was a busy day off work for me. I had a stop in Hikes Point for some CPAP supplies, then wanted to be at the dedication ceremony for the new Cyclocross facility at Eva Bandman Park on River Road.

I'm not historically a 'cross racer kind of guy, but I'm quite impressed by this facility. The racers I've heard discuss the course give it high marks for being tough, challenging, and creative. That we are getting the Masters' World Championships here in 2012 and the World Championships here in 2013 says a lot about where this site rates for the cyclocross racers.

I only hope they work out something for those auto-centric folks so they have a closer place to keep their cars, only to improve spectator attendance. Most of us would ride there and find a place to lock our bikes.

After the dedication and unveiling of the new sign, I went to do some shopping in town. Jenn wanted me to get some stuff for her howloween costume (she won the contest at the party we attended Saturday evening), and I needed some lunch. Sol Aztecas was a good choice for lunch!

Then it was out to beyond Iroquois Park a bit for some new shoes at Swag's. I've been a periodic Swag's customer for fifteen years or so, and enjoy the quality of service and knowledge Swag has his staff exhibit. After choosing and buying the shoes, I opted to enjoy some solitude in Iroquois Park.

When I lived in Old Louisville twelve years ago, I had a Wednesday afternoon ritual I enjoyed. I would get the latest issue of LEO on my way home from my day job, get on my bike and ride to the top of Iroquois Park. I'd find a quiet place on the upper meadow, sit and read the LEO, maybe read a chapter of whatever book I was enjoying at the time, and ride home. I sometimes stayed up there until dark (I had lights on the Ryan even then), and got to see owls seeking their evening meals, deer grazing in the meadow, and other dusk-time wildlife. It was good to revisit that simple pleasure, if only for a little while.

Then it was on to the First Birthday Party for Car-Free Happy Hour, held at Vernon Lanes that evening. It was good to see the friends old and new that were there. I even tried bowling again--scored something like 89 for the game! I have a bowling ball at home, but hadn't thought to bring it with me on the bike. It needs some redrilling before I want to use it much, though, as the thumb hole has gotten small over the twenty or thirty years since it was drilled. I didn't know that bowling balls could "heal" by making a hole smaller--or did my thumb get larger in diameter since I was twenty-three?

The USGP Cyclocross races were held at the new park over the weekend. I didn't get to go Saturday (someone had to mind the store while the boss raced...), and Jenn and I had stuff to do around the house Sunday, but all accounts I've read say it was a great course and a grand weekend of racing. Sounds like a lot of pain to me, but some folks seem to enjoy it.

Visibility

I've discussed visibility a fair bit lately. One thing I haven't mentioned in the "motorist claims (s)he didn't see me" bit is that as I travel Westport Road, I am able to notice how far back people pay attention to my presence. When they see me, some even use their turn signals to indicate to others their intention to change lanes. Many motorists see me far enough back that they are able to integrate into the left-lane traffic as far as a couple hundred yards behind me.

Rhetorical question time: If they can see me that far away, why can't the rest?

To play with that question a bit, one possible answer is that so many motorists simply don't think that far ahead. They are too busy fiddling with the doo-dad of the moment, whether it be their cell phone, their fast-(urp!)food, their GPS navigation, radio, electric razor, makeup or what-the-hell-ever to pay attention to their surroundings in a meaningful way. As a result, they are surprised to see a slower road user, and their surprise leads to their anger, which in turn becomes a tirade at me when the real problem is their own inattention.

Think they are mad at themselves? I doubt they would admit it. They are too busy blaming "that d@#$%! cyclist" for making them pay attention to their driving.

One of the reasons I like my Vanguard is that visibility from the bike is wonderful. I'm in a fairly natural seated position, with my head upright--much like the position of an automobile driver. I have good lateral vision, and excellent long-range sight lines without neck strain. My view to the rear is a bit different than what someone on a conventional bike would have, but I'm also pretty adept at using a helmet-mounted rear view mirror. Since I'm not wrapped in a glass, steel and plastic coccoon, I can hear other traffic from far enough away to tell something about the intentions of the operators.

Given that folks so often change lanes so far back from me, I have to believe I'm fairly easy to see as well. I've made it easier, certainly, with the large reflectors I made and my habitual choice of brightly-colored shirts, not to mention the various "be seen" active lights I use (I counted the Planet Bike Superflash lights in my garage the other day--not counting the two on Jenn's Peugeot that are now in Sarah's keeping, we have about a dozen). All of the bikes used for commuting have reflective stripes on the tires (the lone exception being the front tire on my Vanguard, and if that tire ever wears out...). All of the utility bikes have extra reflectors in addition to the CPSC stuff. And Jenn's bike has those Halo rims...

In short, anyone who cannot see me is either a) not looking, b) is vision-impaired enough that they shouldn't be driving or c) lying about it. I've had reports that I was hard to see in certain situations, even from a fairly astute driver. Those situations included a fair number of reflective barrels lining the roadway (construction zone) on which the speed limit was 25 (and was not enforced, but that's a separate issue), and where motorists are supposed to be going slower and watching for unusual things to happen. What do I need to add there? A Xenon strobe? How irritating is THAT for a motorist who gets stuck behind me at a long traffic light?

How well do YOU know the rules?

During the hour and a half to two hours I spend getting to and from work most days, I have a bit of time to ruminate on the state of drivers' education--and several opportunities to see just how poor that state is.

I frequently think that we don't retest enough (ONCE being more than we do...). I'm sure that many folks would have trouble passing the same test they took at the age of sixteen (or whenever they take it now--I've lost track since I don't have any kids who are just learning to drive).

Imagine how pleased I was to find this online test, then. It's a "written" test put out by GMAC Insurance, as a way of bringing attention to the need for more knowledge about driving.GMAC reports an over-20% failure rate (defined as score less than 70%). Kentucky ranks 42nd in the country at passing this test, with state average score of 74.9%. It's appalling to me that drivers don't know any better than this, but not terribly surprising.

When I am driving, I sometimes think along the lines of "would I pass a driving test today?" I'm not always so sure. I know I do things that would cost me points (one hand on the wheel, protocol issues regarding my use of the clutch and shifter, I'm not always good about using my turn signals (although I do use them more than the average motorist in this town, I don't use them all the time), and who knows what else. Given my score on the written test (90%), I suspect I would do well enough--especially if I would be aware of being tested.

As a League Cycling Instructor, I have reason to say that I know the traffic rules better than many motorists. Indeed, I frequently encounter motorists who I am SURE would flunk this written test, and who I'm equally sure would not care that they flunk it unless they would lose their current driving privileges by failing. Of course, some of them probably know this at some level, and would refuse to take the test out of fear of what they would see quantified.

I think the same thing about vision testing. I get the occasional motorist telling me I'm hard to see. Mine is the one on the left, but neither of these bikes are hard to see:

I have to think that a person who cannot see me on this bike is either a) vision-impaired to the point that it would be illegal for him or her to drive or b) needs to scan for smaller other road users. There is no third option that does not challenge the honesty of the person claiming to have not seen me. Given the number of crash reports where the at-fault party has said, "I just didn't see that car/bike/pedestrian," I think people are showing criminal neglect when driving. Paying attention to one's surroundings is of paramount importance when using the roads. Knowing the rules of the road--and following them--is part of the contractual obligation of a driver's license.

News Flash: Red Pickup dude found

I'm admittedly short on the details, but rumor has it that the Oldham County Police have found the owner of the red Dodge pickup that has been harassing cyclists. The OCPD asks that if you have LEGITIMATE information about incidents you have had or experienced others having with this guy that you please contact them with that information. I don't think they want speculation or second-hand stuff so much as first-hand accounts with time and date at this point.

My hopes are that they will find a way to use him as an object lesson on traffic safety. Perhaps this series of events will aid efforts to get HB88 passed in some legislative session SOON.

I'm for public service work for this guy, partnered with a few hours of instruction and a requirement that he ride a bike for a couple thousand miles over the next year.

It rained last night

Yes, it's newsworthy that we had rain last night. We had more rain from that storm system than we had experienced in over a month, mostly as a function of drought conditions from the latter part of August until, well, last night.

The official (or officious) weather service report called it at a bit more than a third of an inch, with a total for October of .44 inches. I've fired pistols with wider bullets (I was in ROTC in high school, and during summer camp got to fire a total of six rounds of .45 caliber ammunition--haven't fired a pistol or rifle since about that time in my life).

Of course, the weather was coming my way as I was heading home. There is an observation involving my old pal Murphy and his law somewhere in all this...

As I was getting ready to leave the store, Jenn called to see if I needed a ride. I told her I'd be fine for a while, and would call her if I changed my mind at some point. Three minutes later, as I was spooling up the revs on the pedals, I heard my cell phone ringing. I'm not in the habit of answering the thing when I'm pedaling, so I left it be.

As I was working through Crestwood and toward Pewee Valley, I decided that instead of going via Westport Road as is my usual route, I would go through Anchorage and follow LaGrange Road home from there, to put me closer to Jenn's workplace should I need to get her assistance (she had driven the truck to work). I was seeing lightning off to my north, but it wasn't close enough that I felt threatened. I got to Lucas Lane in Anchorage before I started getting rained on, but it went from sprinkle to hard rain in moments. Visibility was getting worse, but was still manageable--until I got in front of Central State Hospital (not to be confused with Central (state) High School at 12th and Chestnut in Louisville, my alma mater).

I stopped for a few seconds under the Hurstbourne Parkway bridge to clear my eyes a bit--salt from my helmet was washing down into them causing part of my visibility problems. Deciding my stopping place was not as safe as I'd prefer, I got moving again and went to the "stop and rob" at the corner of LaGrange Road and UPS Drive.

I called Jenn, to find that she was out looking for me, and had gotten off my usual course by a mile or more. I told her where I was, and she was amazed that I'd gotten that far without being concerned over lightning strikes. She came to where I was, and as there was still a fair bit of lightning in the area, took me the rest of the way home.

An hour later, the rain lessened enough that the visibility was again tolerable, but I'm just as glad I wasn't waiting out that hour in front of a Circle K "stop and rob" store. I could find edible food at home, for example...

The episode will, I'm sure, lead to some discussion over how I deal with weather when I'm on a bike. I apparently have a different idea of what is manageable from the bike seat than Jenn, even setting aside my well-known dislike for riding in rain. Of course, rain and night mixed are even less fun than either alone, but can still be managed with reasonable care. I have no desire to get hit by lightning, but haven't done any deep research to tell me how much of a problem that is likely to be when cycling on a thirty-pound steel bike with an additional ten or fifteen pounds of stuff hanging on it.

Christian rudeness

I was riding home from work the other day, and near the intersection of Westport Road and Indian Springs Drive, a motorist honked his horn at me just before passing me too closely. I caught up to him at the Freys Hill Road intersection, and challenged him on his horn use. He claimed it was to let me know he was passing me. I told him I could hear his car from more than a hundred yards away, and blowing his horn was viewed as more of an "in your face" statement--sort of a "get the F&$^ off the road" thing. He replied that he'd blow his horn any time he wanted.

It was no real surprise to me that there was one of those little icthus things on the rear of his car--no doubt put there to proclaim that he's a good Christian. The overwhelming majority of the people who are rude to me on the road has either one of those little fishy things, a license plate with "In God We Trust," or some other broadcast of "I'm a christian!"

If they have to tell the world that they're Christian, instead of letting us figure it out by their acts and attitudes, are they really? Or are they, as a friend of mine quipped a couple decades ago, "hypocristians?"

In other words, I found this motorist's behavior decidedly un-Christian, or decidedly christian in its hypocrisy--you decide.