motorman

Cold winter weather returned to Minneapolis today! On my ride into work my thermometer on the bicycle computer registered no temp since it was colder than its lower bound. I love this weather because this is what it is supposed to be like in Minnesota in January. For those who rode today you probably had a number of odd glances from colleagues when you arrived at work, but as I read posted on MplsBikeLove, with the need to clear snow off ones car and worry about the battery dieing and trying to find a parking space close and sitting still inside a cold car. “Why do people go through the trouble of driving in the winter?” See you out there.

This was the most unbelievable incident that I encountered in my decade of commuting to work. As crazy as it seems it is not fiction. I still cannot believe it occurred. So, what happened you might ask? Well here is how it all went down:

One summer morning three years ago I was on my way to work on a Monday, maybe a Tuesday. My route at that time went along a major industrial corridor in Minneapolis. This fateful morning I was stopped at the intersection of a busy county road waiting for the semaphore to change to green. It is about the halfway point of my commute, so I was in full “what do I need to do when I arrive at work” mode.

Then the fun started.

I was off to the right, one foot on the ground, examining the Colnago for a noise with a source that I could never identify. I hear an engine rev from the vehicle I could see behind me as I was looking down at the left crank. I stood, turned to see, and rev, rev, rev goes this beast of a vehicle. It was one of those dumpster haulers and it appears the driver was a bit excited. I realized that the guy was a bit irritated with my presence, but there was nothing I could do until the light turned. So I simply pointed to the illuminated red light to single to him that in a short matter of time I will no longer trouble him and his morning’s activities.

You will not believe what this joker does next.

I turn back to the intersection awaiting the light to turn green. I hear the vehicle door open and this lil’ fellar jumps out and approaches me. “It will only take two hits,” he mutters. I have a stunned look on my face (you would know it if you ever hit a deer with a Ford Escort hatchback). “What,” I responded in disbelief. “Yeah,” he continues, “only two, that is all it will take.” Again I am stunned, is this really happening? I want to reach out and touch him with my finger to see if he is real. I say, “What are you talking about?” He snaps, “It will only take two hits, me hitting you and you hitting the ground.”

I pause to continue to take this in. This is a guy, obviously a bit agitated, bedazzled with his company’s logo – hat, shirt, jacket logo, check – that is threatening a complete stranger in front of a handful of drivers queued up at the intersection for obeying traffic laws. I guess from his perspective if I was not in his way he could attempt a right on red with his three-ton garbage hauler into heavy morning rush traffic, maybe saving 60 to 90 seconds. But, time is money in waste management.

I respond to this twitchy superstar, “Are you serious?” He leans in a bit, “You’re just lucky, man, two hits that all it would take.” He turns back towards the rig and climbs into the cab. Continuing to be stunned and amazed, I look back at the truck. “So that is license plate number,” I think. What a clean get away. The light changes I proceed on my journey to work. I spend the entire day in amazement that this incident happened.

What a crazy lil’ fellar.

On my way home the other day I met foggy and drizzly weather. For some reason I generally enjoy the bike ride home in inclement weather – rain, snow, god-awful cold, you understand the type – but yesterday I was enjoying the ride because a year ago at this time I was in a shoulder immobilizer. If you have never had the pleasure of a shoulder immobilizer it is especially pleasant when you are trying to sleep.

I was in this awful situation because a few days earlier on my way to work a car turned in from of me and before I knew it I was airborne. Now I bet you are expecting me to lament on the crash, how cars do not see bicycles and haw bicyclists are always in the right. That will be in another post and really I do not think that way we all have a role … like I wrote, another post.

I was airborne on a pleasant October morning – 50+ degrees – sunny – calm winds – no advanced notice of the flight – no ticket. What confuses me a year later is that from the time I realized that there was nothing I could do and I was going to collide with the front panel of some chevy sedan, like a rock, my reaction was unexpected, kind of, but still troubling. As I flew through the air my thoughts are not on the impending fear of impact but a slow motion examination on how I am going to make contact with the ground. Will it be the crash where the helmet splits? Will it be the time where I land on my feet, again? Or will it be the time from which I spend the next decade in elementary school gyms explaining the virtues of bicycle safety education?

I hit a primary downtown street surface scapula first, body second, bicycle a distant third to add insult. For those unaware or as forgetful of seventh grade health as I, scapula equals shoulder blade. Break it and the next three months are reserved for pastries, tortilla chips, and other evil foodstuffs in the face of the physician directed placid lifestyle.

As I leaped up from the asphalt I quickly inventoried the gear – head intact, coffee in the pannier a loss, no broken limbs well not at first check – then in between profanities I notice a man on the sidewalk coming to me asking if I am alright. I respond, “Did you see that, I bet it looked awesome.” As a group was gathering around me I all I was interested in is whether someone was able to take a picture.

Is it right to think about the action video that could have been or to think of your health. Hard to know. I do know this watch out for turning cars and if someone did take a picture send it my way.

I am now off to see whether it will be a useful expense of my time to become another of the millions who blog. I expect that the most interested readers of this will be me and maybe my wife. If I am successful, I can probably rope in close friends and my mom. The intent of this blog is to script some of my thoughts that come into my head as I commute to work on my bicycle— a man, who is in effect a motor, so hence motorman.org. Choosing the name of this site was actually not that clever, two months ago I walked by an exhibit on streetcars and there was a mannequin in a conductor’s uniform and the label on the hat was “Motorman.” And I kind of like it, so there you go.

If you have made it this far, thank you and congratulations. I will try to write in a fashion that does not bore you, on topics such as politics, books, public policy, and the economy or why there is Braille on the drive-up ATM at Wells Fargo. I will hope to write as much as I can so that some day my enemies can use these pages to highlight my ultra-conservative views on the world and use them against me at an opportunistic time.

Feel free to leave your comments and check back when you need to waste time or help falling asleep.