C'dork's Saturday cycling tip: one way not to die

Ride long enough and it will happen: pedalling along, minding your own business as well as that of the surrounding traffic, as you approach an intersection or junction the car behind you passes so it can immediately turn right in front of you. Well, even if it doesn't happen to you, it happened to me this morning. It's probably the fourth or fifth time someone's done it to me over the last three years.

How I deal with it: First of all, I watch the road, see where I'm going and where the opportunities for automotive mischief — intersections, side roads, potholes, suddenly ending shoulders and so on — are. At the same time, I'm keeping an eye on oncoming traffic and an ear out for cars behind me. This morning I could smell that the car on my ass would pass and turn on to the upcoming side road. Though I slowed slightly I had to maintain some momentum since I was on a slight grade. With about about 150 feet or so to the junction, she passed. Since I expected it I braked and stopped, let traffic pass and got going again. One more thing I would have done, had I really been thinking, was downshift one or two gears to make restarting on the rise a little easier.

In some situations there will be even less space and less time to react. What cycling safety folks advise in such cases is to turn right on the inside of the car. I had just enough distance and shoulder that I didn't need to even though I considered it. Keep in mind it's a move that's probably hard as hell to rehearse. Just be ready.

Upshot: the driver's body language indicated an appropriate level of embarrassment and I didn't get flattened. Though not optimal the result is acceptable.

Ah spring

"Hey asshole — get a car!"

Now that the weather's nice, more windows are rolled down. The witticism came as I pedaled past a passenger in a vehicle turning left from Tody Goodwin Road onto Beaver Creek Road to go even more deeply into the comparative nothingness of southeastern Chatham County. Except to emphasize that the bon mots emanated from the passenger, who may have been letting someone else drive, draw your own conclusions.

Greetings aside what a day to ride, even in Chatham County. I got in about 70 miles. The distance kept me on track for two goals: at least one 100k ride per month and a monthly tally of 416.7 miles, to put me on pace for 5,000 miles for the year. Though I made it for March, I'm still 205 miles behind for the year. Rationalization: summer months are better for piling up miles than winter months.

I expect my fan reached his destination hoarse as assholes were everywhere. The weather is cyclingtacular. And I own three cars.

Is this really necessary?

One of my favorite generic irritated questions to ask is, "How fuckin' lazy do you have to be?" Granted, I'm extremely grateful that I don't have to grow my own wheat, mill it, keep a yeast colony growing and cut my own firewood, among other things, to make the bread for my peanut butter sandwiches (or, for that matter, shepherd my own peanuts from seed to lunch). But for instance, as much as I love my car, it irked me that the model only came with power windows. How much effort does it take for someone to roll down the windows him- or herself? Same with television remotes. After all, I can get up and use the switch on the television. It is not an imposition. So when I saw this article, I had to wonder if someone had missed the point. Oh yeah, one more thing: we all drive stick in this house. It's just not that hard.

The wonderful smugness of superiority

Admission: I am not so superior that I do own not a car. In fact I have a financial interest in three motorized vehicles. It came to my attention recently that one of these vehicles needed new tags. The first thing I did was concoct an intensely complicated plan that involved switching cars among every family member, time tables with no more than a split second of discrepancy and financial transactions that would constipate a Nigerian e-mail scammer. So after I forgot the car-switch part yesterday morning — and that was the linchpin of the plan — I decided to simply ride to the DMV license plate office. Not only did I get to cycle down Walnut Street (Cary's equivalent of the most hideous road wherever you live), I — here's where the smugness and superiority come in — parked my bike inside the office while I waited to pay my $33. It's probably better for me that the clerk acted as if every person who pays his or her fee does so after wheeling a bike into the office. I understand. After all, I've had to stay cool in analogous situations myself.

CD's Saturday cycling tip: blow yourself up

For God's sake, whatever you do, put some air in your tires before you go out. If there is an easier step you can take to improve your ride, let me know. The recommended pressure is right there on the side of the tire. As with a car, appropriate tire pressure means better performance. Bonus: this may just be because I am, well, cycledork, but if I put my helmet on just as I'm reaching for the pump then I don't forget my lid once I hit the road.