Two Team RocBike members – Jack Spula and me – are holding a bike commuting panel/workshop/war story session this Sunday the 27th at the Rochester Abundance Cooperative Market Annual Meeting. I think we’ve been invited more for the strangeness of our bikes than for our friendly demeanor. The event starts at 3:30 at Tay House Lodge in Cobb’s Hill Park, right up a hill near the water treatment plant. Another familiar face at Abundance, Jessica Rodriguez, will be showing off her weird bike as well:

3:30 – 4 – Bike Commuters Show and Tell 
Jessica Rodriguez, Adam Durand, and Jack Spula talk about car-free commuting and demonstrate their two – (or three – ) wheeled wonders.

I should give The Chicken Avenger a hose-down this week. There are a bunch of other workshops, including a session on urban chickens and another on vegan gluten-free baking, and it’s completely free and open to the public. Here’s the schedule. This event is right up my alley.

People tell me I’m nuts when I say I look for black ice to ride on with my studded tires. But it makes perfect sense, in a kind of loony way. The studs grip the ice perfectly – though you still; have to ride conservatively, especially when descending a steep hill or taking a hard turn. But smooth ice provides a very quiet, pleasant ride, one made more pleasant by the fact that the motor vehicles are either going more slowly than usual or staying off the streets altogether. There’s a rub, of course, or actually a harder form of potential contact: cars and trucks slippin’ and slidin’ and maybe plowin’ into you. So make sure you give them lots of space. Even get up over the curb, if necessary, until the coast is clear.

And while you’re standing there in the snowbank, pause to pity the poor pedestrian. I keep telling people not to shower sympathy on winter cyclists but on the winter walkers who have to negotiate unshovelled sidewalks and perilous mini-glaciers at many corners. Residents, homeowners and businesses mostly do a lousy job of clearing their walks, and the municipalities do an even lousier job of educating and policing. It should be obvious that many folks become in effect housebound by the conditions. And many others struggle: the other day in my neighborhood, I saw a young woman trying to push a double kid stroller over a mass of crusty snow between her and a crosswalk. Amundsen never had it so bad. And I frequently see people operating wheelchairs in the street because the walks are impassable. I think we bikers need to organize some kind of solidarity with our transportation cousins. I guess we can always call City Hall… and then wait for spring like everybody else.

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!)

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.

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.

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.

I knew this month’s Critical Mass ride would be a standout: the weather was great, and many of the college students who regularly take part haven’t left town for summer yet. But I wasn’t prepared for just how wonderful the ride would be. We started as usual at the Liberty Pole a little after 6 pm (actually, some riders start at 5:30 at the UR River Campus), then rode for about two hours. The serendipitous, spontaneous route took us along the Genesee, over to Corn Hill, through downtown again, down Park Avenue (twice) and Monroe and East avenues, straight south on Goodman Street (a roadway practically begging for a velo-takeover), by the Strong Museum and Manhattan Square, and finally Gibbs Street. I don’t think I’m getting the sequence right – but you get the picture. We hit a lot of high spots, and none of them struck back.

If it’s not too much of a contradiction to say so, CM has become a solid local institution again. But we need to get more bikers out for it. (Make a note: we ride the last Friday of every month.) In a town where such boondoggles as Renaissance Square can pass for transportation projects/progress, grassroots action is especially important. Hey, maybe an upcoming CM ride can take an inside tour of the infamous Mortimer Street garage, which so many “downtown interests” are committed to preserving, even as they salivate at the prospect of tearing down attractive old buildings nearby. I remember an Urban Assault ride a few years ago that went up and down the ramps of the Farash building’s parking garage (I mean the suburban-looking office building that houses the IRS, et al., right across East Avenue from the Little Theatre). Probably trespassing – I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t lock my body or bike up in jail! – but a nice complement to taking back the streets. And lots of fun and exercise. Anyway, isn’t the Mortimer Street garage, that prime component of the Uglysphere, a public space?

I’ve been having a grand old time with the snowy roadways and trails the last few days. Notice I said “snowy.” The slush is another matter; and the infamous, slip-and-slide “car snot” or brownish gunky pancake that coats the back streets, is another matter still. Notice I said “matter” twice. Both times I meant “crap.”

But back to the snow. Ah, what a pleasure to glide silently through a couple inches of powder on a trail glowing with reflected ambient light. The purity of it all. Well, of all but the embedded particulates and various toxics that come with every form of precipitation.

On Sunday afternoon I mounted my older set of Innova steel-studded 1.5” tires on the Kona. Just in time. Because on Monday I needed to commute out to the RIT campus for the first day of classes. Everything worked great – though for while I’ll have to use East River Road instead of the Lehigh Valley Trail (north section) and thus will exchange a great nature experience for a couple miles of looking over my shoulder. I keep dreaming that trail sponsors will start plowing the most popular lengths of trail to encourage year-round bike commuting. But that’s a long way off.

This morning I rode out Monroe Avenue to Pittsford and the Nazareth campus. Some people are amazed I take this route. Frankly, I do so only because it’s the quickest way from my house, and I have trouble mobilizing my body in time to do the longer, slower, but much more pleasant Canalway Trail. But Monroe isn’t too terrible for the “reverse commuter.” Very little motor traffic heads east from the city line early in the morning.

With some snow and slush at the fringes, Monroe Avenue doesn’t put its best face forward, no matter what time it is or which way the traffic is flowing. But don’t rule it out. Just be careful, especially at the I-590 juncture.

You can also go intermodal. The Monroe bus line (number 7) has frequent service from very early to pretty late, so you can toss your bike – I mean lovingly cradle it – on the carrying rack and climb aboard to comfort. Quite often I bike the whole way out to Nazareth from the Highland Park neighborhood then take the bus back to the city from the Pittsford four corners. Satisfying and cheap.

This afternoon, though, I saw some of the downside. It happened a minute after I’d got off the bus across from Monroe Square, near Union Street. As I was re-mounting my panniers, a young woman carrying a two- or three-year-old in her arms came up and asked me if the number 7 bus had just gone by. When I said it had, she seemed more distressed than impatient. She’d been struggling to navigate that Rochester early-winter special, the unshoveled commercial strip sidewalk. And carrying a little kid obviously added to the burden. I told her another bus had to be coming sometime soon, but she took up her precious cargo again and headed west on foot. She really could have waited – but there was no shelter at the bus stop, or anywhere close by, so walking into the wind made some kind of sense.

That’s the reality that those who warm up to things like Renaissance Square – a maxi-station project gone berserk – would rather not think about. They scheme to get their developers’ windfall built with (mostly) transportation money, while those who (literally or figuratively) miss the bus and pound the pavement get the cold shoulder.

Maybe we need a true intermodal task force, a real political coalition of mass-transit and human-powered-vehicle folks, to address the full range of problems. I’m going to think more about that after my next bike commute, i.e. early tomorrow morning. And there’s bound to some additional time for contemplation on Thursday or Friday, when I mount the new Nokian carbide-studded tires that I ordered through Freewheelers, my favorite “LBS.” The well-worn Innovas on my bike are approaching the end of their service life. The Nokians, with long-wearing studs and (reportedly) superior grip, will help ensure my personal service life as a winter cyclist won’t be unnaturally short.