This past Wednesday was a tricky one for my commute to the RIT campus, which is nestled on what should have remained 1200 acres of beautiful farmland, woods, and wetlands in once-rural Henrietta. The seven-mile trek felt like it was about a quarter-mile deep in slush – what had been actual ice was beginning to melt at around 7 AM. But the ride turned out to be very pleasurable. That’s because my Kona, equipped as I’ve said before with 26 x 1.75 studded Nokians, made mincemeat (okay, wrong metaphor, texturally speaking) of the mush, and it only took 5 minutes longer than usual to get there from here. By the time I pedaled for home (around 6 PM) it was still relatively liquid out there, but ice was starting to solidify on some surfaces. When I went up the twisting path alongside McLean St. between Wilson Blvd. and Mt. Hope Ave., near the UR campus, which conveniently sits along my route to RIT, I could only get a grip while riding; it was too slick for walking. This confirms the point made by stud-enthusiasts: the trickiest part of riding on ice is when you dismount and lose your footing. It also confirms my feeling that it’s pedestrians who get the short end in terms of transportation conditions, not cyclists, though we cyclists seem to get more pitying glances from passing drivers. But I’m really writing to ask a question. Does anyone out there know why so many oncoming motorists will assault a cyclist with their high beams? I’ve got my theories (e.g. they think they’re helping by “lighting” our the way for us poor benighted devils), but what’s yours? And how do you deal with problem? This has been on my mind since I got blasted/blinded Wed. night on East River Road near the golf course clubhouse. Dear drivers who may be reading this: Dim your brights!

Great to read about Ethan’s first ride in the snow. It’s an experience no one should deny him- or herself. I’ve been making my usual commute to RIT on the Lehigh Valley Trail (N Branch, which runs between the UR South Campus and Brighton-Henrietta Town Line Road very close to intersection of Jefferson Rd., Rt. 252). As long as the snow doesn’t get more than a few inches deep, the trail is quite passable. Of course, it helps to have good lugged tires to churn through the heavier accumulation – and I recommend a good set of studded tires for serious winter riding in this climate. I splurged on a pair of Nokian 26×1.75’s a couple years ago; each tire has 160 carbide-steel studs, the kind that you can put on a lot of mileage on (even on bare pavement) without noticeable wear. Well worth the investment. The perfect set-up is to have more than one machine in operation: keep one bike equipped with studded tires for the more challenging conditions, and another with regular rubber for the clear days.

Last night, as our regional blizzard hit – and to my mind, the snow is a beautiful thing, indeed, at least till the ambient crud turns it to a crappy shade of brown – I went for a two-wheeled spin around the neighborhood. It was at the beginning of what was to become an extended rush hour, and over at Goodman and Clinton, as I’m sure at other major intersections, the fume-belching traffic was stop and go – mostly the former. Even with my Nokians, I slid a few times; the detestable brown “pancake” (a.k.a. “car snot”) was beginning to semi-solidify. This stuff prevents your lugs/studs from getting purchase, so you shimmy a little or a lot. But all in the all, such conditions make for a fun ride; just watch out for fishtailing or rotating SUVs, etc. Rides like this are also work, so you might not click off many miles. My little excursion was more easily measured in yards. But this is a matter of principle. I try to never let a blizzard go unanswered. I mean, isn’t it every RocBiker’s duty to demonstrate that there’s no such thing as “unrideable conditions”? Hey, I also mean within limits. But what limits, exactly? As with jazz, if you’ve got to ask, you’ll never know.

(Footnote: I’ve been away from RocBike for a while because of some health concerns that luckily didn’t turn into anything major, but did throw me off my game temporarily. Great to be back!)

Last Sunday I was pleased to do a short workshop on bike commuting at the Abundance Cooperative Market annual meeting. I think I covered most of the essentials, and since it was a chilly, rainy day; and since the onset of winter is on people’s minds, the discussion swerved toward coping with the elements. I touted my highly visible rain jacket (which doubles as a snow jacket) and talked about Gore-Tex and ventilation. But would you believe I forgot to say anything about fenders?

Not that they were absent totally from the discussion. I did have my pseudo-hybridized Kona on display front and center, and it should have been obvious that this beauty of a commuter machine is equipped with full fenders. Notice I didn’t say “pair.” That’s because I’ve got a mismatched fender duo scrounged from other bikes: a mountain bike style clip-on in the front, and a traditional plastic job with steel stays in the rear. They aren’t beautiful like the bike, but they work great.

Then this past Wednesday, I went on the Cruiser Ride with what turned out to be an unusually small group, only a half dozen of the hardcore. (These weekly rides have been drawing two or three dozen riders, but now the fall weather and lower-light conditions may be taking a toll.) We spent the first hour of the ride dodging raindrops and the occasional puddle left by a day of intermittent showers. Just as we were getting to the corner of Main and Clinton downtown the rain got pretty heavy, so with the collective instinct of a flock of migratory birds, we zipped and swooped under the overhang of the old McCurdy’s building on Main St., right across from the old Sibley’s. It worked out fine: a nice half-hour break, mostly spent talking politics (insert here your favorite Palin story) while (at least for me) contemplating the sad lack of street life.

So what has this got to do with fenders? Well, I noticed that I was the only rider that night who had them. And I wondered if our riding group had sought shelter at least in part because we – on average – weren’t properly equipped. I mused about how different things are in Portland (OR) and Seattle, or many northern European communities, where a large proportion of bikes have fenders – and not necessarily modern high-tech ones, but old-fashioned metal fenders, not lightweight or rust-proof but, as if in compensation, practically immortal. I think that the success of bike commuting and other routine bike usage in places like these is related to the widespread use of practical accessories, with full fenders at the top of the list.

Okay, fenders ain’t sexy. But who cares, or should care? Aren’t riding comfort and preparedness for the weather more important considerations? American riders overall have been seduced by the stripped-down charms of naked rubber – tires, that is. They’ve been metaphorically drafting the road racers, in pursuit of bike weight reductions measured in milligrams, as well as maximum efficiencies in reducing drag. This has led our bike culture to reject fenders, though the new types tip the scales at less than a pound a pair and have surface areas and shapes that only minutely increase drag. To lose an ounce here or there, we’ve condemned ourselves to wearing that charming mud-stripe up the backside and that delightful rain-in-the-face recycled off the pavement. And even worse, by gearhead values, we’ve left our brakes and derailleurs fully exposed to blasts of water, grit and debris.

As a bike culture, we’ve made a serious error in judgment. So I say, let’s write another chapter in The Revenge of the Nerds and press our fenders close to our hearts. (Actually, they work better when attached near the wheels. This is my tech tip for the day.) Here at RocBike we declare we “have nothing to lose but our chains.” Well, we’ve also got mudguards to gain, and whole new worlds of inclement weather not merely to endure but in which to seek pure delight. (Did I say fenders ain’t sexy? Then why I am getting so worked up?)

In some ways the RTS bus system’s recent successes (see NY Times article below on this site) have benefited cyclists a great deal. Now you can go intermodal for just a buck. I sometimes take the #92 bus to cover the 30 or so miles from Downtown Rochester to Newark, Wayne County, then pedal the last 5 miles to my usual destination, Peacework Organic Farm, as a kind of transportation dessert. When I started doing this intermodal run a few years ago, the trip to Newark cost $3.10 one way. Then about a year ago, when the transportation authority adopted a new fare structure (which also eliminated transfers and zone charges), the cost went down all at once to $1.25. These days, there aren’t many prices and fees that are declining like this. And you can bet the bulk of bus riders are happy with the lower fare, though I’m sure the bottom-line for many low-income urban bus riders is more ambiguous. (They certainly haven’t benefited to the same degree that riders from the distant ex-urbs have.)

But we have not rolled into that blessed Nirvana Terminal, the mass-transit paradise where one achieves oneness with Intermodality. RTS fares have gone down, but so has RTS service in some respects. For example, on Route 92 there used to be two bus runs (i.e. two round-trips) in the morning and two in the evening. This meant fewer people on each bus, of course, but it also meant the route had some capacity and flexibility that today would be of some use in attracting riders driven to mass transit by current gas prices. (Notice I don’t say “high” gas prices – I say, let ‘em hit $10 a gallon, as in Europe; and let us subsidize the poor somehow, in cash or in transit service, so that they won’t suffer from the excesses of the privileged. And then let us the windfall to build bike facilities and boost mass transit.) So now the bus service on Route 92 works extremely well, and very cheaply, for those whose destinations and schedules are compatible with the service. But many people, including many would-be intermodal cyclists, are simply out of luck.

We need more as well as cheaper service – more routes, and more buses on many routes, and more ways to tote more bicycles on each bus. Here’s a cautionary tale: one Friday evening this past summer, I was planning one of my frequent intermodal trips to Newark. I showed up at Midtown Plaza to catch #92 eastward about ten minutes before the scheduled departing time (5:10 pm). But lo and behold, when I rolled up to the bus, which as usual was set to move out on time, I found the bike rack was full – that is, two bikes. This particular bus, like most that do the longer runs, was a coach-style one, so there was no way to bring a bike on board, even if the driver had been willing to break/bend the rules and allow this to be happen. So what did I do? I cancelled my trip and waited till Saturday morning – but not to take the bus to Newark, since there are no freakin’ weekend buses at all to Newark and Lyons. Instead, I rode the whole way on Erie Canal Trail, which is a delight, for sure, but not what was in the game plan.

Lessons learned: first, you can ride a folding bike and be prepared for anything (I unfortunately had left my Dahon at home); second, if you’re unable to board the one bus that makes an evening run like this, you’re outta luck, since there’s no later bus to catch; and third, RTS may be artificially limiting demand by cutting buses/routes, and then producing surpluses by, on one hand, letting the buses become (over)crowded and thus lowering labor and fuel costs per capita; and on the other hand, bringing home the bacon from Albany in the form of transit subsidies.

Another time I faced a similar situation – a full bike rack on a Friday evening on #92 – but in this case the driver let me slip my bike between the pair on the rack and fasten it with bungee cords. Not an ideal solution. I silently prayed to Hermes to keep my bike from getting dumped or dented.

The best-case scenario would be to have “people mover” type trains that allow bikes to be rolled aboard easily. But we live in a region of transit backwardness, where the discourse is largely limited to moans and groans about prices at the pump. In this context, I suppose that anything said or done about the buses is an improvement.

Imagine my surprise: while cycling through the Erie Canal park at Lock 32 a few days ago, I found a scene of destruction that stopped me in my tracks (i.e. single-track). State DOT crews were just finishing up the removal of a couple acres, more or less, of mature trees and understory next to the basin northwest of the park. A DOT supervisor told me the plan was to build a parking lot there to complement some changes in the trail itself – he said the steep concrete stairs that take you down to the continuation of the trail under the Clover St. bridge will be replaced by some kind of sub-Clover ramp.

Later I talked to a Pittsford town official who told me the project was connected to reconstruction (“re-destruction”?) of the intersection of Clover St. and Jefferson Rd. If you venture down Clover (Rt. 65) toward Mendon Ponds – one of the most popular bike roads hereabouts – you’ll see the scraped-earth policy being mercilessly implemented. I wondered if the project had been properly vetted and publicized; the Pittsford official assured me it had been, though his tone reinforced my feeling that when it comes to the DOT’s version of democratic process, you’ve got to watch your back.

I also contacted the DOT point person by email, but I haven’t got a response yet. A news story I retrieved said the state is relocating the vehicular entrance to the canal park a little bit north on Clover, opposite Framingham Lane. Undoubtedly, this new design will help avoid traffic “interactions” both on the shared trail/driveway and on Clover St. But I assume, too, that the intent is to increase parking spaces overall – something I oppose in principle.

To anyone who knows more about this project: please post a comment. I hope, too, that someone can provide some photos from ground level. We need all the facts. But I have to say, my first impressions of this business is that, as happens so often with DOT activities, a whole lot of trees may have given their lives in vain.

For a map/satellite view of the location (obviously, from before the project was begin), go to http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&q=new%20york%20state%20department%20transportation%20pittsford&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wl

Julie, I’m so sorry to hear about your getting ripped off! (See post below.) I know a trusty bike can be like a good friend, and that there’s a real sense of loss when it disappears. I hope you get past the very understandable feelings and are back on the road/path very soon.

I’ve had three bikes stolen. The first time I was about five years old, and some kids from a few blocks away (this was in Niagara Falls) took my red two-wheeler from near our side porch. My dad retrieved it a few days later, after it had been thrashed and dented. I’ll never forget the experience.

The second time, my old Royce Union, a stolid but dependable ten-speed, was taken from the garage behind my apartment near Park and Oxford. You needed to know a little trick to open the garage door, and my landlord wrongly thought this meant he could keep the door unlocked. The third rip-off was in front of the old Genesee Co-op on Monroe. I had my old Raleigh ten-speed, the replacement for the Royce Union, locked with a padlock and cable out in front of the building. Turned out the cable was a lot more secure than the padlock. A witness told me two kids snipped the lock in two seconds with a cable-cutter and sped off.

I also had a near-miss with a bike I locked in front of the Monroe Library years ago. There were four or five bikes locked there that day; witnesses said a pick-up truck had stopped at the curb to “unload” a few thieves who’d been riding in the truck bed; the thieves hopped out brandishing tools, and in mere seconds they had cut the cable locks on several bikes, hoisted them aboard the truck, and made their getaway. My bike was the only one left unstolen, but it hadn’t been untouched. As is my custom today, I was using two locks, a u-lock and a cable lock. The thieves cut the cable in a split second but were deterred by the u-lock – too time-consuming to deal with under the circumstances.

Well, I hope there are some lessons in these unpleasant memories. We all need to share info about theft-prevention, which is even more challenging in some other communities. I’m still trying to refine my strategies, but here’s how I approach the problem right now: first, I don’t keep any bikes in the garage, even though that’s where I guess they belong. I keep them in the house (they’ve got sculptural value, too, even if they do take up a little space). I’ve know too many people who’ve lost their steeds from a garage, even when the bikes, doors, windows, etc., were locked securely. Unless you’ve got some kind of surveillance system or a set of Fort Knox-worthy barriers, a thief can easily get into the garage, which then provides good workspace and adequate time to do the dirty deed.

And of course, unless your bike is in a secure interior space under your obsessive gaze, it should be locked to something solid. I suppose, as well, that bikes left inside a home when you’re away on vacation, or whatever, should be locked – unfortunately, a bike is especially attractive to a burglar, since it can double as the perfect getaway vehicle. Then there’s the question of crimes of opportunity: too many bikes are stolen because the owner neglected to lock it while “popping into the store for just a minute,” etc. You may need only a minute to do your errand, but believe me, the thief needs only a half minute to spirit your bike far, far away.

Next is the subject of what locks are best and exactly how to lock the bike up (worth a whole dissertation). The “New York locks,” which include u-locks and big superhardened chains, are very good, but they’re also pretty heavy. There are other brands out there that have grabbed market share since the “Bic” fiasco some years back – when it became known that cylindrical-keyed u-locks could be opened with a ballpoint pen (mightier than the sword in this context, I guess). I used to have a Kryptonite New York flat-keyed u-lock, but I gave it to my son to use in downtown Providence; the lock weighs almost four pounds, but that’s only about half the weight of the best chains. Plus, when you use any KNY u-lock, you need to secure the wheels, either by removing the front wheel and putting the rim within the lock, or by carrying another lock as a supplement. My son continues to defy the Fates by failing to lock his wheels – even though he just invested in a new, pricey rear wheel and cassette. Alas, what’s a nagging dad gonna do?

Most of the trustworthy authorities say it’s good to have two locks of different types, to frustrate a thief who’s carrying only the tool(s) for cutting one type (e.g. a saw versus a cable-cutter). But you’ve got to find a compromise between weight and security: Today I travel with two locks, a Kryptonite New Evolution “Mini,” a two-pounder favored by bike messengers; and a slightly less than two-pound Specialized keyed (not combination) cable lock that has small strips of metal embedded in the braided cable, a feature that defends against smaller cable-cutters. I use the Mini to secure the frame to a rack or signpost (the lock is too small to get around large poles or posts, etc.) and the cable to secure the wheels, which have quick-releases.

One last thought: if I were taking my bike into an office or other semi-public building, I’d lock it to something immoveable indoors, like a pipe or radiator. Again, I’ve heard too many stories about bikes being stolen from storerooms, and so forth. You’d be amazed how thieves can case a joint and brazenly invade in broad daylight. Sometimes building owners and staff think they’re doing you a favor when they allow you to bring your bike indoors – for example, I’ve had staffers at Union Place, the NYSUT headquarters on Union St. right near the Inner Loop, ask me to bring my bike inside rather than use the very good “sine wave” style rack (rack designs merit another whole dissertation) out by the parking lot. I always decline the supposed favor. All in all, it’s preferable to lock the bike outdoors in a visible space, using truly secure locks – not toys like those skinny cable locks that unaccountably are in wide use, even in high-theft areas – than bring it indoors and unwittingly hand it to a rip-off artist.

All of Rochester owes the good folks at Full Moon Vista a big round of applause and a few high-fives. The Rochester Omnium, sponsored by the downtown bike shop and steered to victory by FMV owner Scott Page, has already become a local tradition – and an international attraction.

As a commuter and solo/family bike tourist, I’ve never been involved in bike racing, except marginally, through watching events like the Tour de France on TV – i.e. being a velo-couch-potato. But I took in all three Omnium events this year and loved every minute.

First came the time trials in Charlotte Friday afternoon. I approached the event the right way: biking out St. Paul St., then taking the designated trail through Maplewood Park and the Turning Point, and ending up at the harbor. Things were pretty quiet that morning along the trail, and also along Lake Avenue, which had been cordoned off. (What a contrast to the “other” Lake Avenue, which thunders with beer-powered motorcycles on Boys’ Nights Out.) The contestants were amazing: the winning average speed over the 4.4 mile course was, if my calculator doesn’t lie, a hair under 36 mph. Damn showoffs. Hell, I probably hit 36 mph for a good twenty seconds as I coasted down the big hill at the southern approach to Turning Point Park. I won’t discuss the 3.6 mph I achieved on a notorious short uphill stretch on my way back.

My brother came in from Buffalo Saturday night to join me at the Criterium downtown. He’s been riding the Riverwalk in Buffalo and Tonawanda and is showing more and more interest in longer excursions. But he’d never seen a live bike race – and so, as you’d expect, he was blown away. Just like anybody who considers the pure athleticism of the pro riders. Talk about muscle tone and lung capacity.

I had an unusual experience during the Sunday road race, a 101-miler that ended with a few rousing 6-mile loops in and near Genesee Valley Park. There I was on Wilson Boulevard at the north end of the River Campus, innocently minding my own business and trying to get near the action, when I was “drafted” by an RPD officer to monitor an exit from the UR’s back parking lot. Actually, I volunteered; I seen my duty and I done it – keeping errant vehicles and pedestrians from wandering onto the closed course. Well, the errant traffic never materialized, so I was left standing there, a solitary sentinel – though I did have a great view of the racers as they flew down the slope toward the boulevard. More showoffs! They ride a hundred miles in a leisurely four hours and then, as if from the ultimate caffeine rush, really pour on the speed.

When things got preternaturally quiet, I figured the race was over. And so it was: I got to the finish line, a half mile from my guardpost, just as the awards ceremony was starting. Too bad I missed the winner crossing the line, but I have no regrets. The event was a success, the weather was cooperative, and the crowd was lively. Actually, that brings up one regret. I wish more people had come out to watch the end of the road race, and I wish the same about the Charlotte time trials. Each of these deserves a crowd of thousands, the kind that swarms downtown for the “Crit.” I’ll bet the turnout will be better next year, because the Omnium seems to be on a steep upward curve.

Thanks to Julie for her report (see below) on biking through the obstacle course that the western fringe of the MCC Brighton campus has become. The last time I ventured through this area (let’s call it a “destruction zone,” since it’s a lot more about making things car-and-truck-friendly than anything else), I had to watch my “step” almost constantly. Still, the rough-and-ready asphalt path along the W side of East Henrietta Road did provide some fun.

But if I had to negotiate that mess every day, or even once a week, I’d be tearing out my hair and hurling imprecations at the Petro-gods, who clearly rule the roost at MCC, DOT, and various local governments. Of all the colleges/universities I’ve attended or taught at, MCC probably has the worst record of inattention to pedestrians and cyclists. For a long, long time (the Brighton campus turns 40 this year), bikers and other transpo-orphans have been the object of a de facto discrimination campaign. Sometimes as you wend your way between the city line and the campus, which from a distance looks like a very downscale Oz surrounded by vast defenses in the form of parking lots, you feel like The Fugitive braving hostile territory and inching toward vindication – “I made it alive! And I’m not guilty!”

I hope the ongoing reconstruction improves the situation. In some ways, it will have to: current DOT guidelines call for accommodations for pedestrians/cyclists whenever practicable. Indeed, the specific NYSDOT plan for this section of 15A calls for “bicycle lanes throughout.” But don’t expect MCC to turn into UC Davis. I’ve monitored the changes for years now, and the only options I’ve seen seriously considered are those that will sooner or later (more likely sooner) substantially increase traffic volumes around the campus. Bikers will find better conditions, but the campus, which is shortchanged on transit, too, will still be the academic equivalent of a Wal-Mart.

We should remember, too, that what’s happening around MCC Brighton is part of larger, darker picture. Brighton is becoming heavily sprawlified east of the campus, where the last vestiges of dairy farming have given way to ever-proliferating office “parks,” a land-hungry megachurch, and (soon) a gated community next to the Erie Canal. The canal trail and a couple of spurs (short trails through Meridian Centre Park and Brighton Town Park, plus the Lehigh Valley Trail, N Branch) are among the best biking spots on the planet, or at least this little corner of it. But overall, regarding the bicycle, Brighton and partners like NYSDOT have taken away more than they’ll ever give back.

I owe RocBike a follow-up post about my biking in Italy – but for now I want to write about a follow-up bike trip I took with Ian, my son, in New England and Québec.

Ian’s living in Providence, so we arranged to meet in Boston and head north from there. I chose to, or made the mistake of, going from Rochester to Beantown by plane, mostly because I had a leftover credit from AirTran. The credit reduced my fare to a staggering 10 bucks! But… the airline charged me $69 to take my boxed bike along. (I could have taken my folder in a large suitcase for nothing, but I wanted to ride my hybridized Kona, which has a gear range more suitable for the kind of “mountaineering” the route entailed.) Lemme tell ya: there’s nothing pleasant about standing outside the busy terminal at Logan Int’l and reassembling a full-sized bike, especially in the dark, and most especially when your bike-mechanical skills are as basic as mine. But this prefatory transpo-adventure had a happy ending. I got the bike together, made my way to a subway station a mile or so from the airport, and got to downtown Boston without entirely losing my sense of direction or my cool, such as it is.

Ian had an easier time: he took his bike aboard the commuter train from Providence and met up with me in the heart of Boston. Then, after a stop at an excellent Back Bay bikeshop for some last-minute adjustments, we boarded Amtrak bound for Portland, ME.

On this route, Amtrak accommodates bikes the right and proper way: for a $10 surcharge, you can roll your bike aboard (loaded with panniers or not) and stow it in the oversized luggage area. I can’t see why this service couldn’t be added to every Amtrak run, but as a rail enthusiast and member of the Empire State Passengers Association, I understand the train folks have got bigger fish to fry.

Portland, which I hadn’t visited in 35+ years, is a fine city indeed. Ian and I enjoyed the waterfront and restaurants, and frankly, I could have been persuaded to stay seaside for a few more days. But the Open Road beckoned… at least till it became clear that the road we’d chosen, largely because in this region there are practically no viable alternative routes that actually get you where you’re going without unreasonable “detours,” was not beckoning but in effect hollering, “Watch out, stupid.” In short, Route 302 north from Portland is not a cyclist’s dream: it’s got incessant heavy truck traffic, plus in the summer, an endless stream of moto-vacationers seeking fresh air even as they foul it.

The part of our route that took us through central and northern New Hampshire was much better in terms of road conditions – but of course we were hauling loaded bikes over some serious hills and mountains, too. I do love riding in hill country – the flats can get pretty boring, and besides, steady headwinds in the lowlands or plains can be mighty discouraging, much more so than even demanding ups-and-downs. Overall, I think NH is prime biking territory. Especially prime is the Dixville Notch area. Ian and I went through this high pass during a series of thunderstorms; we kept ourselves safely away from lightning (which should be one of the bike traveler’s biggest concerns) but we couldn’t dodge the raindrops.

After an exciting but wet descent, we holed up at The Balsams, a historic hotel complex, set on a mere 15,000 acres, that “donated” us a gazebo for shelter. When the storm cleared, we pushed on through a wetland plateau that gave us the best wildlife sighting of the trip: a moose that was browsing at roadside jumped and ran through the spruce thickets as we zipped by. We hadn’t noticed this fine specimen of the natural SUV of the North (maybe the label does a disservice to a noble animal) until it moved – and luckily the movement was not in our direction. You’ve got to take “moose crossing” signs seriously in this neighborhood, even if you’re nonmotorized.

When we left NH, via a seriously short trespass into the extreme NE tip of Vermont, we thought we’d conquered our quota of hills. Not so. This past of southern Québec, which despite many Anglo names on the map is a solidly Francophone region, is similar to the Southern Tier/Finger Lakes in the quality and quantity of long, long inclines. And even the major roads, which are wondrously free of heavy traffic, can be challenging when you’re packing lots of gear.

We went through towns like East Hereford, a sawmill town that’s surrounded by forests (duh!), lots of Xmas tree plantations (destined for, among other places, Long Island and Westchester, one local farmer told us when we stopped in St. Malo for lunch) and a dwindling supply of dairy farms. We also stopped for libations in the college city of Sherbrooke, from which we accessed La Route Verte, the newish Québec system of bike trails and designated roadways. (Check it out online – maps, etc.)

You notice how different the ambience is in Québec from that of NH and even VT, even though both the latter are heavily populated by descendants and relatives of Québécois/Québécoises. Ian posits that Québec Francophones are more European in their vehicle choices: smaller, more efficient and cheaper cars and trucks overall. What we saw on the roads, and what we didn’t see, tended to confirm the theory. I do hope that this and other aspects of what various commentators see as the province’s ongoing “Europeanization” drift down our way against the prevailing winds, both meteorological and political…

To be continued… with short notes about cycling in Québec City, hearing Paul McCartney almost by accident, tenting among the Vanbagos in a surprisingly (amazingly) quiet and pleasant private mega-campsite (again, that Québec ambience), and other stuff.

It seems like I’ve been away from RocBike for a long time – and yes, it’s been a couple weeks since I even checked in. But my absence was for a good cause: a trip to Italy, with lots of biking there (I brought my Dahon folder, which fits easily into a couple suitcases for air travel) and now some impressions to pass along.

My trip took me to several northern Italian cities: first to Modena, home of fabled tenor Luciano Pavarotti, almost equally fabled soprano Mirella Freni, and oddly fabled, expensive, gas-guzzling Maserati, whose headquarters are not far from downtown. Modena’s population is about 177,000, and I’ll bet the figure includes about 40,000 regular cyclists. As in many European communities, regular Modenites in huge numbers get around by bike, doing the shopping, dropping around to the caffe/café, going on dates (two per bike, and not on tandems), and otherwise getting through the day. If you wander the deliciously narrow and pedestrian-friendly streets and alleyways of the old parts of town, you see hundreds of bikes locked up everywhere. The bikes tend to be utilitarian, affordable models, some of them decades old and well-worn. (It’s only out in countryside, on the beautiful but narrow ancient roadways, that you see helmeted, bright-jerseyed riders on fancy road bikes.) Partly for economic reasons, and helped along by a human-scaled urbanscape and bike-friendly traditions, Italians depend heavily on appropriate transport technology.

The principle held true for two other communities I visited: the small city of Vignola, mid-sized Parma, and sizable Bologna (ca. 400,000 people in the urban core). I recommend all three to bikers and walkers – again, it’s the traditional urbanscape that makes the difference. Bologna, with plenty of piazzas and 38 km of “arcades,” i.e. Gothic-arched covered walkways, is especially attractive to pedestrians. I think this town’s Renaissance and Baroque architects could teach our RenSquare planners a thing or three. (And isn’t it odd that not long ago, Rochester was courting Parma interests for a deal to redevelop Midtown Plaza – without so much as considering the physical features that makes the city of Parma a resounding success?)

Not that Italy is a total biking Paradiso. At least in the Emilia Romagna region that I toured, the secondary highways are miserably clogged with trucks and cars moving at excessive speed, and there’s precious little space for bikers or pedestrians. And in the suburban zones, you see many working-class cyclists pushed to the margins, same as you see around home. But in Italian town centers, everything’s rosy: ample bike paths and lanes, urban traffic that’s respectful of cyclists, and an official commitment to alternative transportation. Modena also has begun a bike-borrowing/rental program. You just put down a deposit and get a key, then access publicly-owned bikes at any number of parking stations around town. There’s no fee for the first three days – perfect for travelers, though I must say the bikes themselves are a little stodgy in design, solid and serviceable but not suitable for long rides.

Well, I’m now coping with transpo-culture shock. I went to the Rochester Public Market this morning and did a few errands. Amazing how few bikes you see around the market (I counted about a dozen), considering the huge turnout (thousands on- or just off-site) on a Saturday morning. Part of this is the durability of the Auto Craze, part is the result of the Rochester’s failure to create the infrastructure that would seduce people into going to the market by bike. Why, the city only recently added another parking lot, this one on Railroad St. And still – as any competent traffic planner should have foreseen – the cars and “light trucks” jam the access roads and turn the market grounds into ground zero for air pollution and conflicts with mere persons who make such daring, self-indulgent moves as trying to cross a street! Maybe RocBikers, joined by Critical Massers and others, should target the market for some kind of actions. City Hall shouldn’t be allowed to ignore or downplay bike issues any longer. (I note with pleasure the departure of Dumbass Supremo Steve Minarik, the Republican boss who did something to offend everyone – and did everything to maintain the status quo that barely acknowledges alternative transport. Not that I expect M’s replacement will be much better.)

One last note: Italian towns also are home to vast numbers of motorbikes and scooters. This was especially evident in Bologna. But the odd thing is, I didn’t hear any straight-pipe monstrosities like those that take over Rochester-area roads every summer. Interpret that as you will.