A friend of mine once insisted the only way to truly know where you are at and where you are going is to take the back roads there. By this mantra we traveled the ravaged side streets north into the decaying city of Detroit. These words have stuck with me for a decade. Today, I amend them. The only way to really understand the places you travel through is to run out of gas along the way.
Last night just before dawn my engine slowly revved down accompanied by the red oil light. I switched to my reserve then headed to only open gas station I knew along the way, fortunately at the next exit. I pulled off in the small town of Gorst near the Sinclair Inlet. As I poured gas into my tank I noticed a 24 hour Steak and Waffle House that appeared to sit literally under the overpass. I must have passed this place dozens of times without ever being aware of its existence.
Of all the places along my commute this is the last and simultaneously only place a 24 hour steak and waffle house would be. Down the block from the 24 hour strip club the area is right out of a David Lynch setting. Thirty three miles later I was home with a new understanding of the environment that surrounds me.
Ever noticed how traffic lights will almost always be red? Last night driving around Capital Hill the lights I always seem to catch at Pine and Broadway were inevitably red when I was coming the other way. If I am always catching the east west red, shouldn’t I always be catching the north south green? Different from the punishment light at 12 and Yesler the traffic lights in the Pike Pine corridor are merely for penance.
The last two days I have taken Ferncliff Ave south to the ferry rather than the 305. There is no advantage to this route. Yesterday I took it after stopping off at the hardware store, today I took it because it was there and it wasn’t the 305. Trying to turn south to the ferry from west bound Winslow way is impossible during peak times. Yesterday I thought the missed timed light was a product of my imagination. While trying to do that last minute right turn through a yellow I was nearly hit by a car who didn’t even attempt to stop at the red. Today I noticed after another near miss that east bound traffic’s light remains green. With no dedicated turn lane or arrow I will no longer take the back road to work.
I would also like to thank the passive aggressive horn honker of the car I may have cut off today. After I quickly turned left with two car lengths in between us the driver of the other car didn’t honk his horn until I was well on my way. It wasn’t the sort of honk that indicated imminent danger or even mere annoyance. The honk instead seemed to say, “wait a minute did he just turn in front of me? He did! That son of HOOOONK… that will show him. Stupid motorcycle riders wanting equal rights but not wanting to follow the same rules. Wait a minute that’s bicyclists. They’re ok though, more environmentally friendly, hey look at that bird…”
I’ll start off by saying this afternoon I heard what sounded like an unusually slow jet fly over the island from the northwest to the southeast. Usually I would instantly be at the window, but I’m learning to cope with my hyper vigilance from a previous bout of quasi-ptsd. About twenty minutes later I could smell rich fuel. It reminded me of JP5 from the hanger but also smelled like motorcycle exhaust. Shortly thereafter I turned on the news for no particular reason and saw that a Boeing 777 had made an emergency landing after take off at Sea-Tac. My curiosity was affirmed when the talking head described the flight path circling the Puget Sound and Elliott bay, dumping fuel along the way. The footage showed the plane safely arrived at the terminal. My first thoughts were, “Oh boy I can’t wait to hear about this on Island Moms.”
Sure enough our community has not let me down!
Kirsten H. commented:
Someone should call Seatac/FAA, get some answers and make sure that they know what we have experienced here. The plane was supposed to dump in the Sound (which I imagine would be hard to get just right given all the land masses around here) and supposed to dump over 2000 feet to achieve evaporation. Obviously this didn’t happen. I’d call but I have a meeting shortly.
Guess we will all be hitting the soap pretty hard tonight!
Kathy M. commented:
That’s disturbing! Apparently fuel was dumped in Edmonds, the Puget Sound and on our island. I’d like to know why fuel was dumped on occupied areas AND what cleanup if any will be done and how. Does the fuel just dissipate in a few hours or does it contaminate the soil and water? I’m happy the plane didn’t crash and people didn’t die but what the heck!?
Now I could go into the obvious retorts to such comments as “I’m happy the plane didn’t crash and people didn’t die but what the heck!?” or “make sure that they know what we’re experiencing.”
The comments were posted almost immediately as the breaking news coverage continued. At first I thought it was a way for people to find drama in their lives, or somehow vicariously live through other peoples struggle, much like the swarm of people wearing NYFD hats after 911. Then I let it go…
In times like these I am always always always reminded of by far my favorite Douglas Coupland quote after all these years…
“You see, when you’re middle class, you have to live with the fact that history will ignore you. You have to live with the fact that history can never champion your causes and that history will never feel sorry for you. It is the price that is paid for day-to-day comfort and silence. And because of this price, all happinesses are sterile; all sadnesses go unpitied.”
I need goggles. State law requires eye protection of some sort. However sunglasses or windshields meet this requirement. I have an open face helmet and have been wearing my sunglasses by day and shooting glasses at night. Today after going to the beach I took my time on a leisure ride around the island. On my way back home near Blakely Harbor an SUV pulled out in front of me ignoring a yield sign. The driver never maintained a constant speed yet never braked. Through every turn the SUV would meander into oncoming traffic and off on the shoulder. Every time it did sand and debris trailed behind. The dust and sand found its way into my eyes every time, no matter how far back I trailed. Through it all I kept focusing on their vanity plate that read EYE MD. I wondered if this is how they seek out new clients. Tomorrow I will pick up a pair of goggles before I scratch a cornea.
I love living here and the roads are great. On a motorcycle you can smell a lot more, from salt air to bum piss. I like to think it gives you a better sense of where you’re at and where you’re going. I find myself not want to get to my destination and taking the long way to where ever I’m going. I was told as soon as it feels like commuting, you’re doing something wrong.
Making fun of scooters is unnecessary. The long rival between Rockers and Mods may be in resurgence judging by the amount of scooters I see on the hill. Taking the ferry everyday gives me at least one chance to mingle with other riders as we wait to load. Sometimes the scooters are in equal numbers on the boat and in some areas of the city greatly outnumber us. Scooters are what they are. While I won’t pass up the opportunity to snicker at the scooterist wearing thousands of dollars worth of cafe racing style riding gear I won’t think myself the better just because of the differences in what we ride. That being said I will segway with an immediate contradiction…
3 out of 4 Ducati riders annoy me. They bother me so much that I won’t even go into it. Nothing productive can come from it. I think there are all to many of them who just buy the brand because they think, hmm thats an expensive bike…
I think by now we’ve all seen the awareness test commercial for bicycle safety reinforcing the notion that as drivers we often only see what we expect to see. Which means when we don’t expect to see a cyclist or motorcycle we won’t. Those old ladies that shouldn’t be driving are really scary on a motorcycle. So far I have driven the interstate and downtown during rush hour. The most terrifying trip has been here on Bainbridge to the market at noon. The elderly wield their massive automobiles in blind remiss. Stay as far away as possible they will inevitably pull out in front of you at the last possible moment.
I have also learned that girls and kids like motorcycles. The kids wave as I pass and the women smile as I walk by. That being said the general public also hates motorcyclists. You can never drive fast enough, slow enough, or safe enough to please them. The motoring public will no doubt crowd you wherever you go; following, stopping, and passing too close all too often.
Motorcycle lights aren’t known for their brightness. It’s actually recommended to increase visibility at night, use the lights of the vehicles in front of you. I’ve seen some pretty horrible lighting options out there. I don’t plan on adding auxiliary lights to my bike anytime soon or ever actually, but I think a Xenon bulb will be a good start.
I get off work at four in the morning. No matter how hot it gets during the day the night will always be chilly, especially just before dawn. Someone I work with recommended I get riding pants, chaps, or even just thicker jeans. Turns out they were right. With the ferries on weekend/holidy sailings I had a few hours to kill before the first boat. I considered riding around, but my judgment got the better of me insisting the 95 mile trip around the Puget Sound at night on my third day of riding wasn’t the best idea. I also didn’t want to wait for the first sailing at 0610. I compromised by driving north 17 miles to catch an earlier boat from Edmonds to Kingston. I stopped for a cup of coffee to warm up and wait for the boat. The earlier sailing turned out not to be so early on Sundays. When I got home just after dawn my legs were cold and starting to turn blue. Needless to say tomorrow I will be getting some riding pants. I may never wear chaps and I doubt I’ll get leather pants, but we’ll see what tomorrow brings.
I was once told that like Rome, Seattle was built on seven hills. Except that one of them has been torn down. My commute into Capital Hill from the Coleman Dock is less than two miles but the hill grades downtown can be steep. While they covered how to start on hills in my riding class there’s no better way to learn then a practical application downtown during rush hour. There’s nothing like finding the sweet spot between clutch and throttle while trying to start up hill with an impatient Harley rider behind you. The minivan in front of me had already cleared the intersection and I was still revving my engine trying to manipulate the front brake when the Harley whipped around me shaking his head in disgust. I eventually figured out working the front brake is not the best way to start off on a hill. I made it half a block to the light just in time for it to turn red. Since then hills have been less eventful as I’m now using my rear break to stabilize myself when starting.
I went to the park today in an attempt to launch my son’s rocket. Our success was hindered by repeated missed ratios of Vinegar and Baking Soda. I stopped in at the grocerystore on our way home to indulge myself in a tasty root beer.
Of all the lines to get in I chose the express 10 or less with one customer ahead of me. I happened to get behind the fucking hipster who’s attempting to purchase a tin of mints for $2.23 with an out of state check using a passport as identification. The bearded jetsetter went on to explain that he has a local Green Lake address, then gave the cashier an east side 425 phone number.
Actively trying to remember bin number 7765 on my bulk candy I try not eaves drop too much, but it’s hard not to in a small grocery store when you’re arms length away from someone. I’m also trying not to think about how carrying a passport around isn’t fooling anyone into thinking you’re a world traveler. Spring break in Prague or that semester abroad does not make you worldly. The only thing you are accomplishing is being a pain in the ass. How many times a month do I have to hear some one whining about the passport being the most secure document in the world? All you have accomplished is being a huge pain in the ass and something tells me this isn’t the first time. Your passive aggressive “look at me” mentality sickens me. Seriously who writes a check for $2.23 for mints?
On my way out I hear a customer several check out stands over yelling over to a cashier, “I’ve been gone for three months! You’re face looks so different!” Begging the question to be asked, “Oh really? Where have you been?” to which he’ll reply, “Oh, well.” then laugh slightly to himself, “let me tell you…” I take pleasure that the cashiers response. I can hear in her inflection that she’s rolling her eyes, “Huh, I don’t know. I’ve been gone for three months too.”
On my way home I dive by the bearded hipster and his friend about to walk into a cafe. I point him out to my wife, knowing what annoyances await the staff inside.
