I really wasn't making it up

Some of you may recall that I ranted last summer about the habits of younger cyclists in Fort Collins, the northern outpost of the Cycling Riviera. Now Colorado State University concedes, based on a graduate student's research, that there is substance to my hopelessly antediluvian outlook. Only 9 percent of student commuters are wearing helmets? That's even lower than I expected.

Guess what? "As for the reason why students only wear their helmets for certain purposes, [pyschology doctoral student Itsumi] Kakefuda suspects a number of factors. She believes students hold a sense of invincibility as well as the perception that injury is less likely close to home."

Imagine my surprise at these findings. On the other hand, I suppose I should tone down the sarcasm, since someone has collected data to support my observations — and demonstrated that I was right all along.

That has made all the difference

Dear Cycledork:

I see a lot of bicyclists in my area drive on city streets, county roads and highways, which are often busy and have narrow shoulders, when bike trails run alongside the exact same route. Why is that?

Though I am admittedly not an avid bicyclist myself (I log a couple hundred miles a year, tops) I far prefer the safety of recreational trails than being on the road. I understand that trail riding can be limiting for long-distance riders who cover more ground than most bike trails provide, but why not take the trail when it's available? Is it uncool for "serious riders" to be seen on a bike trail?

Sincerely,
Mystified in Minnesota

p.s. I don't mean for this to seem "anti-cyclist" and I do acknowledge bicyclists' right to a share of the road.

Dear Mystified:

No anticyclist vibe inferred and what a great question.

Uncoolness doesn't have much to do with it. Safety does. Speaking for myself, I'll ride in the road instead of on the trail for a couple of reasons, which may boil down to one: I don't want to kill anyone — me included.

At this point I consider myself an experienced rider (+/-10,000 miles all seasons, all hours, all levels of traffic over the past 3 years) who goes faster than most of the traffic on the bike trails around here in North Carolina's Triangle. From my perspective, and I'm guessing the perspective of other experienced riders, riders on the trails are unpredictable. Trail riders, or more fairly, less experienced riders, are more likely to be moving slower than I am and are more likely to stop suddenly or move across the path unexpectedly. If I'm going 20 mph and they're going 12 mph and I fail to anticipate their action the results could be catastrophic.

Here's a sobering thought: drivers are, in most ways, more predictable even if they're assholes. Even though I can't take my eyes off them for a second I have a much, much better idea of what to expect. My guess is the riders you see feel the same way. Another way to put it is that it's a lot easier to ride defensively when it's clear I'm the one who will lose catastrophically.

All of that said, this is one particular school of thought, advocated by groups such as The North Carolina Coalition for Bicycle Driving and inspired by the classic "Bicycle Transportation: A Handbook for Cycling Transportation Engineers" by John Forester. Foresterians eschew segregation of auto and cycling traffic because, as the coalition puts it:

"Bicyclists are drivers of vehicles. Every street is a bicycle facility. Bicyclists have the right to access every destination reachable by public roads, and this right is protected by the traffic laws of every state. North Carolina law specifically defines bicycles as vehicles and assigns bicycle operators all of the rights and duties of drivers of vehicles on roads. Scientific analysis of bicycling practice in the United States shows that bicyclists who behave as drivers of street vehicles and follow the Rules of the Road enjoy travel that is much safer and much more convenient than those who do not."

I'd also like some clarification on your definition of "bike trail." Is it separate from the road? If so, how is it separated? How wide is it? What sort of surface does it have? Do pedestrians use it? Is it one way or two way? The answers to all of these questions would affect my willingness to use it. There is a two-mile stretch of road not far from the my house that has a paved, +/-10-foot wide, two-way bike and pedestrian path along a windy two-lane road. For the reasons stated above, I take the road every time. I'm also grateful to the transportation planners who had the foresight to consider riders such as myself in that stretch of road and mark it with signs with a bike on them that state, "Share the road."

The road does belong to all of us, motorized and otherwise. That said, there are creative ways to share. When I'm in Fort Collins, Colo., for instance, I use the bike lanes that are ubiquitous there. Though strict Foresterians would consider the spinelssness of my concession contemptible, for me it boils down to predictability. Drivers and cyclists there are trained that cyclists will be in the bike lane toward the right of the road on both sides. Drivers know where to look for me and cyclists are not surprised to hear someone call, "on your left."

There are some roads I will not ride on. Ever. At some point I have to acknowledge the hostility the road, its users and designers show toward cyclists and take another route. Even on the roads I will ride on not all drivers, nor all cyclists, are willing to share regardless of schemes for everyone to have a piece. But for me, the best way to show my good faith is make clear to drivers that I only need what I'm using and they can have the rest.

Yours in velophility,

Cycledork

Fort Collins: bubble town of the Bicycle-Friendly death wish

It's no surprise that a city with great bike facilities has lots -- shitloads actually -- of people who use them. Right on and in a huge way. Nevertheless, it blows my mind how utterly oblivious the huge majority of those riders are to risk. I announce my dorkishness, for instance, by being part of the minority who wear a helmet. Earphones and -buds are ubiquitous. Road signs are for chumps. Forget about any indication of directional change. Riding time is the perfect time for that involved phone chat. No need to watch traffic, including other riders, since bicycles here apparently operate in protective bubbles (not mentioned in the Bicycle Friendly Community commendation). Local authorities must not have been alerted to my arrival as my bubble hasn't shown up yet.

Confession time: I do not stop at every stop sign and I don't signal every time I'm required to. But I do slow down at every intersection and I do look. And I avoid not stopping when a car is approaching my bike perpendicularly.

I understand that many of the riders I see are older adolescents and young adults who are still invulnerable. But they do things on bicycles that even they would be embarrassed to do in a car (see above). I also understand that age does not necessarily confer maturity or judgment, yet it's not just the bezillion college students who remove their brains whenever they ride. It's people approaching my advanced age who are old enough to know they have something to lose.

Don't get me wrong: it is too cool that bikes are so heavily used here and catered to. The bike racks in my mom's apartment complex are jam packed. How great would it be for every place to embrace cycling so thoroughly, especially if riders reciprocated in a way that didn't make me worry about killing them.

The Lyons traverse

For all the mileage I get out of telling my North Carolina friends about how every ride out here is uphill balanced on the edge of an abyss, I'll confess immediately that was not the case today. In fact, today's ride from Fort Collins to Lyons was more or less flat. Really. Flatter than most of the rides I take around Wake and Chatham counties.

Not only that, the ride was a success. I wanted to see if I could make the trip without getting on U.S. 287, one of the main arteries connecting cities up and down the Front Range. County roads -- paved all the way -- got me south from Fort Collins to Colorado 66 (about 33 miles) through ranch and farm country. Lyons is about five miles farther west. I was particularly concerned that paved roads would turn to dirt once I left Larimer County and entered Boulder County.

Lyons is a strategic key because it's at the bottom of one of the mountain roads (abysses included), U.S. 36, that leads to Estes Park. Estes Park is about 20 miles northwest of Lyons. My big ride for this trip will be from Fort Collins west to Estes Park up U.S. 34 (another mountain road) and returning via Lyons instead of just turning around. I am still mulling the route because 1) U.S. 34 is a beautiful road both for its scenery and pavement, 2) I know every turn in it and 3) it offers the best opportunity for the entire cycletacular to break 50 mph (on the descent). Weather forecasts have me thinking Thursday or Friday will be the day, so I have several days to decide.

Horsetooth and points south and east are the likely destinations for tomorrow's chapter of the cycletacular. It should be similar to Sunday but include real climbing. Since it won't be a survival or reconnaissance ride, I may see if I can add some speed.

The Horsetooth kickoff or triumph on the big ring

It was an auspicious start for the cycletacular. No riding trip to Colorado can start correctly for this obsessive compulsive without going over Horsetooth Reservoir first. Horsetooth is about five miles from my mom's apartment and about 500 feet above it. The 500 feet occur over 7/10 of a mile. Then after a couple of miles down, another climb to the overlook. After one last descent, one last ascent. Then rollers for several miles meandering south. Anyway, the first time I rode this route two years ago I went over the reservoir and associated hills in my smallest gear (30/25) and wanted an even smaller one. Last year I badassed it and went over in the middle ring. This year it was the big ring, all 53 teeth of it, and my 21-tooth cog. Going 11 mph up the first hill was as good as going 50 mph. The pain breathing would be too much of a pain in the ass to describe. The other 50 miles were cake and included a foray into Berthoud, which I had skirted around previously. I have been to Berthoud before but only to experience an Estes Park Bobcat athletic team have its ass handed to it. This was better. Anyway, among the interesting things I saw along the route was a dead skunk in the middle of the road. Much to my surprise it did not stink to high heaven.

Yesterday, of course, was still part of the cycletacular even though it was spent off the bike. We went to Campion to determine the composition of County Line Road (the counties are Larimer and Weld; it is dirt) for possible inclusion in the Fort Collins-Lyons transit. Following the reconnaissance, we stopped by Lee's Cyclery for supplies (tube, CO2, gel, seat bag). Once outfitted I was ready to roll this morning. Many of you know that I do not take my gels for granted. Yesterday I picked up a new brand: Hammer. This is the shit (speaking metaphorically). The tropical flavor actually tasted sort of mangoish without the chalky pastiness that I've come to expect> Tomorrow's flavor is orange. Oh boy.

I wrote in the first cycletacular post that maps and pictures were coming. That's easier for me to promise on a Mac than on a PC. For some reason my Veloroutes maps won't save from this computer and Googlemaps requires too much mind reading on any machine. However, pictures should be forthcoming assuming the PC has something to interpret that type of data once I use up the disposable cameras I bought. My hope is still to provide you with stimulation beyond my prose.

Tomorrow's destination: it looks like Lyons.

Cycledork's annual Colorado cycletacular!

Yes, readers, it's that time again. Believe me, waiting a year was harder on me than it was on you. The bike and I arrived in Denver this morning and will be here in Fort Collins until Sept. 2. It's about 25 degrees cooler here than in the Triangle with about zip humidity. There are significant differences in the view as well.

After acclimating today and tomorrow we hit the road Sunday. That'll be the kickoff of seven cycling-, mileage-filled days. Though some routes are already planned (and in some cases mapped), questions remaining for the week include whether I can get it 500 miles. Daily posts, though, will reveal answers. Meanwhile I need to get a disposable camera (having forgotten the scientist's) so that I can accumulate visual evidence.

Welcome to BikeFriendlyville

Or welcome back, anyway. The new issue of American Bicyclist, the house organ of the League of American Bicyclists, arrived today. This issue's theme is the league's Bicycle Friendly Communities program, of which Cary is one at the bronze level. Fifty-eight municipalities throughout the United States have made the cut at some level. The league first recognized Cary in 2003. Town efforts have include a bicycle-education video produced in English and Spanish, the Cary Cycling Celebration, wide outside lanes or striped bike lanes on all collector streets and thoroughfares and a requirement that new developments include bicycle parking facilities. The wide outside lanes are the real deal and allow me to be passed safely when both cars and I are hauling ass.
Living in one of the great 58 is pretty cool but I also know from visiting my mom in Fort Collins, Colo., a silver-level community, that there are more possibilities. Fort Fun practically insists that you pedal and accomodates bicycles on the road so effectively that efforts here seem primitive. Cary has a ways to go to reach those heights.

Where the 'dork pedals

Notice the Web links at the right of the picture. These are all sites I frequent and that have been blogged about specifically (e.g., Sheldon Brown) or are places from where many of you have followed links to come here (e.g., Cycling Plus forums). Cycledork is only about several months delinquent letting readers know where the good stuff is. Expect to see more links in the future.
One link that I don't believe has been referred to previously is New Belgium Brewing Company. New Belgium, which brews Fat Tire Amber Ale among other things, is in Fort Collins, Colo. I go to Fort Collins every summer to visit my mom. My bike comes with me. Fat Tire, of course, refers to the rubber of the cruiser depicted on the ale's label. Years before I ever hit the road and meant it, since I was a Fat Tire drinker, I knew that New Belgium was into bikes. "Tour de Fat: A Ballyhoo of Bikes and Beer" is one of its biggest promotions.
Anyway, in 2005, on my first ride in anything like mountains, I pulled into the overview at the top of Horsetooth Reservoir, and caught another cyclist, J.T. He was taking the scenic route to Estes Park to pick up his car; I was just out for a spin in south central Larimer County. Anyway, we rode together for about 15 miles. During that time I learned he had started his dream job a few months before as a brewer at New Belgium and for fun he was a semipro (my phrase) mountain-bike racer. Beer brewing bike racer leads me on my first ride along the rollers? Let's just say the realization of that white buffalo vision quest and the wisdom imparted still affect me and for the better: hydrate; get plenty of sleep. And to my knowledge it involved no hallucinogens.