Attention Westside Commuters - The Highland Boulevard Bridge Is Finally Open!

In case you weren't aware, the Highland Boulevard bridge has been closed for over a year for repairs. Yesterday, it reopened.  Perhaps it's a testament to how dull my life has been lately, but I can't contain my excitement. 

Listen, this bridge ain't no Golden Gate.  All it does is span some railroad tracks by the the Miller Brewery and the Harley Davidson headquarters.  I don't know what they have been doing to it over the past year, but the thing looks exactly the same as it did when they closed it down last year.  I don't think they even bothered to repaint the bike lane stripes.  But like an old member of the family who resurfaces after a year in rehab, it's good to have him back, warts and all. 

This is good news for me because, over the past year, I have been forced to take a less-than-glamorous detour down a seedy section of Vliet and along a particularly franchise-laden strip of 35th Street in order to reunite with Highland's bike lane, which takes me downtown to work in the morning.  I really missed that bridge.  Before its closing, it had been one of the few bright spots on my commute to work.  I'm glad to have it back.

Photo by Eddie-S

However, not everything is a rosy as it appears.  It looks like the Miller Brewing Company has taken advantage of the bridge's closing to do something devious.  This morning, as I rode past Miller's corporate office, I noticed a new sign on the side of the building which read "MillerCoors".  Now I'm sure those of you who actually read the newspaper would say, "Hey, buddy, that's old news."  Well, let me tell you, it was a shocker.  Not that I give a hoot about Miller.  I'm originally from California, so I drink whatever beer I feel like without feeling like I'm risking some sort of breach of regional decorum.  Nor was it a shock to see those two tried-and-true brand names side by side.  I mean, they both taste like crap anyway, and, by now, we're all used to massive corporations merging together to form even more massive entities in the ongoing race towards global mediocrity. 

I think what upset me most was seeing the capital "C" in front of the sub-word "Coors".  MillerCoors.  Since when is it okay to put capital letters in the middle of words?  Sure, the Germans capitalize all their nouns.  I can live with that.  But why do Miller and Coors have to share the same word?  Are we too lazy to read two separate words?  Are they trying to save space as a result of the economic downturn?  Fifty years ago, they would have called it "The Miller and Coors Brewing Company."  What if we all went around eliminating "useless" words in our speech in an effort to corporatize our speech?  Would my wife understand me if instead of telling her "the baby is crying" I just said, "BabyCry"? 

And the other thing that detracted from my celebration of the Highland Boulevard bridge was the fact that someone (presumably, the police) put one of those big signs which tells you how fast you are going smack dab in the middle of the bike lane.  While I was delighted to learn that I was going 14 miles per hour into a strong headwind this morning, I would have preferred to have the bike lane open to protect me from cars approaching from behind that were no doubt going much faster than 14 miles per hour. 

But that's enough complaining, isn't it?  This was supposed to be a celebratory post.  Those of us who commute from Milwaukee's westside have a good reason to rejoice upon the reopening of the Highland Boulevard bridge!

Cycling to New Spiritual Heights

Photo by Diego Cupolo

I like cycling.  I ride my bike to work for no particular reason other than the fact that I like it.  I'm not a particularly philosophical or political guy.  I'm just trying to have a little fun, that's all. 

My bike commuting addiction is not rooted in any profound commitment to environmentalism.  Sure, getting to work without using a car provides a tangible benefit to the environment by reducing the amount of pollution in the air.  There's no denying that.  But I don't do it to be "green".  That's not what compels me to get out the door on a single-digit February morning.  I'm not one of those "simple living" guys either.  I am generally angst-ridden and prone to extended binges of overthinking.  I can even render the supposedly "simple" act of riding a bike into an overly-complicated exercise in grandeur (witness this blog, for instance). 

My bike commuting is not an attempt to get in touch with my spiritual side either.  I don't debate that a long ride in the country, wherein one has time to take leisurely breaks under the sheltering reaches of old trees, can bring a person to Whitmanesque visions concerning the presence of divine energy in nature or whatever.  I don't usually have time in my schedule for such uplifting jaunts.  More often, I find myself in situations as I did yesterday afternoon, cussing at traffic in the midst of a soaking rush hour rain.  Not so spiritual.

My intentions aren't lofty.  In truth, my motivation for bike commuting is to have some fun, to feel like I did when I was a kid, before life got so darn complicated.  Although I'm too impossibly complicated to ever truly feel like a kid again, bike commuting does permit me let my hair down a little.  I wouldn't be able to sit behind a desk all day playing the role of Mr. Serious Attorney without it.  It also helps preserve my sense of humor, something which we all need more of these days.  Don't forget that during the last global economic depression, we had entertainers like the Marx Brothers to keep us laughing.  I don't know if you've noticed, but movies aren't so funny anymore.  Maybe it's up to us to make ourselves laugh a little. Riding a bike can be funny, if you let it be.

One guy who really has the right idea is co-religionist Baruch Herzfeld.  He runs a bike gemach (loan program) in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, beloved home of Satmar Hasidim and hipsters, two subcultures who both happen to take themselves way too seriously.  Herzfeld, an Orthodox Jew himself (although not Hasidic), tries to help Williamsburg's Hasidim lighten up a little bit by loaning them bikes.  The sign over his small storefront in Brooklyn features a "large Star of David constructed out of 50 or so rubber chickens," the center of which contains Yiddish text stating, "You can come borrow a bike to ride around and have fun."  Says Herzfeld:

“These guys always complain to me. They say: ‘Baruch, what can I do? I’m miserable. Help me out. . . . I said, come to me. I’ll give you a bicycle on the side.”

So far, it appears that Herzfeld has been successful in getting some Hasidim out on bikes.  I'd like to extend my best wishes for Herzfeld's continued success in putting a little levity into people's lives.  If you think Baruch Herzfeld is a swell guy, as I do, be sure to vote for him to receive the Jewish Community Hero Award by going here.

I think we can all benefit from a little more fun in our lives, and riding a bike is a pretty good way to do that.  Just remember, and I'm speaking to myself here (actually, I don't think anyone reads this blog anyway, so I guess I'm always speaking to myself), not to take cycling too seriously because that would defeat the whole purpose.  It's hard not to notice that riding around on expensive fixed gear track bikes has done little to help hipsters from taking themselves and their bikes too seriously.  Instead, just get out and have a little fun.  And if you don't wind up having fun, then at least try to laugh about the fact that you didn't have fun.  And if you can't laugh about the fact that you didn't have fun, at least try to laugh about the fact that you couldn't laugh about the fact that you didn't have fun.  If you can't do that, well, I guess there's no hope for you.  Maybe try the environmentalism thing. 

Here's That Rainy Day

Ok.  I'll admit that this morning's conditions riding into work were less than ideal.  Even though I like to promote bike commuting in both of Milwaukee's seasons (two weeks of summer and fifty weeks of winter), I openly acknowledge that I did not enjoy my commute today.  And I think I'm among friends when I say this, and, as a result, I don't feel that my self-worth is threatened in any way.  Thanks for being a friend. 

Huffy Update!

I'm pleased, or perhaps disturbed, to report that the pint-sized Huffy that appeared one morning at the bike rack behind my office is now gone.  Again, I'm concerned that the growing readership of my blog among bike thieves and other villains is on the rise and that the Huffy thief quickly reclaimed his or her stolen goods once they checked my blog and realized that I had revealed their secret hiding place to the rest of the world.  I'm sorry.  At least there's more room on the bike rack now. 

Sidewalk Riding

I don't know about you, but I have always assumed that it's illegal to cycle on the sidewalk.  Sure, people do it all the time, but I always looked down upon those who did.  (I apologize for being judgmental.)  That's why I was surprised last week when I saw a bicycle-mounted police officer cruising down the sidewalk.  Being the proud grandson of a police officer myself, I have always looked to our police force to set an example with respect to traffic code compliance.  So naturally I was confused by this officer's presence on the forbidden sidewalk. 

Then I took a look at the Milwaukee bicycle code, where I found this: 

"RIDING ON PUBLIC WAYS.  No bicycle shall be operated upon any public sidewalk, pedestrian paths in the public parks, or upon any public school grounds or public playgrounds.  This subsection shall not apply to . . . bicycles operated by police officers in the discharge of their official duties . . . ."

What this means is that police officers can ride on the sidewalk.  It's one of the perks of the job.  I felt a renewed sense of confidence in the men and women wearing our city's police uniform upon reading this ordinance.  I just wish someone would get those guys some cooler bikes. 

Photo by Thunderchild tm

By the way, if you're worried that your kids shouldn't be riding on the sidewalk, don't be.  Fortunately, they are also exempt from Milwaukee code section 102-8(2)'s ban on sidewalk riding:

"This subsection shall not apply to . . . vehicles propelled by the feet acting on pedals and having 2 or more wheels with an overall diameter of 14 inches or more when operated by children of the age of 10 years or under . . . ."

I know my kids love riding their "vehicles propelled by the feet acting on pedals and having 2 or more wheels with an overall diameter of 14 inches or more."  They call them "bikes" for short because they usually can't remember the full, proper name.  Kids are cute that way.

Commuting on the Hank Aaron State Trail

The weather yesterday was delightful, especially in light of the weather we've been having here in Milwaukee lately.  It was sunny and 60 degrees for my ride home. 

I often integrate the Hank Aaron Trail into my commute home.  It adds a couple of miles to my commute, which is a good thing.  How many car commuters do you know who would voluntarily extend their commute home after a tiring day in the office?  When you're on a bike, and it's a fine October afternoon, there is nothing better than sneaking a couple of extra miles into the ride home.  Especially on the Hank Aaron Trail. 

The Hank Aaron Trail follows the Menomonee River from downtown Milwaukee to Miller Park.  A map of the trail is available here.  A good portion of the trail is set on a wide sidewalk running along Canal Street.  In addition to the main trail along Canal Street, there are a couple of side trip loops that take you for scenic jaunts along the river's edge. 

Sections of the river loop are lined with artwork and wildflowers:

Yesterday's ride provided some fine fall colors:

While I typically see a handful of bike commuters and other recreational types using the main path along Canal Street, I usually have the entire river loop all to myself.  This is nice, especially if I want some privacy for grabbing some of the freebies floating down the Menomonee River, like this nerf football:

I always feel like I'm in France when I'm riding along this narrow section of the river loop under the trees: 

I haven't been to France since I was four years old, and I certainly didn't do any cycling (or tricycling for that matter) when I was there at that tender young age.  Come to think of it, I have no idea why this part of the trail feels like France, but it does, so please don't ruin the moment for me.

The end of the trail leaves you at this familiar Milwaukee landmark:

From there, I head up 44th to Wells, which is a good jumping off point for destinations in Wauwatosa, or in my case Sherman Park.  Hey, I'm almost home after a long day at work.  It's Miller Time!

Is This Your Bike? (Part II)

Oh no.  It appears that my previous post has not achieved its desired effect.  Unfortunately, no one has claimed their long lost Schwinn Traveler.  Quite the contrary. 

When I pulled up to the bike rack this morning, I was greeted by this ghastly sight:

At first I thought, who in the world is commuting to the office on a kids' department store BMX bike?  I typed "children and/or unusually small adults working in my office building" into my brain's search window but came up empty.  No, I haven't seen anyone in my building small enough to commute on this little creature. 

Then I noticed that this lil' Huffy, like the Schwinn sitting next to it, was not locked to the rack.  That left two possibilities: (1) Mama Schwinn gave birth last night to the Huffy; or (2) my vast bike thief readership is grateful for my last post because it provided them with an idea of where to stash more stolen bikes.  After some careful contemplation, I'm leaning towards option no. 2 as the more plausible explanation.  At least the Huffy thief had the courtesy to not hog another good parking spot on my office building's cruddy bike rack. 

Is This Your Bike?

This rusty example of 30-year old mass production steel has been languishing unlocked on the bike rack in the parking lot behind my office for over a year!  This Schwinn Traveler, along with its buddy, a similarly aged but slightly nicer Zebrakenko ten-speed, appeared unannounced one morning on the bike rack.  I don't know how they got there, but they stayed there.  Day in and day out.  Through the harsh winter months.  They were always there - two cro-moly sentries guarding the bike rack on a never-ending watch.

Then one day the Zebrakenko disappeared (hopefully to loving foster parents), leaving this poor Schwinn all by its lonesome.  I'm thinking that the two bikes might have been stolen and subsequently ditched at the bike rack.  I'm not sure, but the fact that this Schwinn still remains untouched is either a testament to how honest my fellow Milwaukeeans are or to how utterly undesireable the bike is. 

Although this post has a public servicey feel to it, the real reason for my concern is that this bike is hogging one of the only decent spots on the rack.  You see, the garage behind my office building is equiped with the same miserable bike racks as the Milwaukee County courthouse.  I'd move the bike, but, frankly, I'm a little scared of touching it.  Maybe it has leprosy or something. 

Anyway, if this is your bike, contact me and I'll let you know where it is (for a small fee).

Fancy Riding

If you live in the Midwest, you might be wondering what happened to summer.  I hate to break the news to you, but summer is over.  Gone.  Done.  Bye-bye.  Chicago is reporting its coldest October 13th in 82 years.  Here in Milwaukee we've been wallowing in 40 degree weather for days now with no relief in sight.  It seems too early for this weather, doesn't it? 

Despite the gloomy skies and chilly temperatures, this is still pretty good cycling weather.  I can get to work in the morning without being drenched in sweat.  No need to take a bath in the office bathroom sink upon my arrival to work.  My co-workers are delighted, as are the scores of unfortunates who are unlucky enough to share an elevator ride with me on my way into the office during the summer months. 

As for surviving the colder weather on the bike, I've been getting by remarkably well with a pair of mismatched Afghan wool gloves purchased from some fragrant hippie store in Berkeley back in college (I guess I used to own two pairs of these gloves in different patterns, but now I'm down to one mismatched pair) and a flimsy L.L. Bean windbreaker circa 1982. 

Not fashion plate material - I know - but it works. 

Other cyclists with better fashion sense than me (and apparantly more free time) have seized upon the cooler temperatures as an excuse to display their smart fall wardrobe while cycling.  This time of year, it's all about sweaters, boots, capes, and scarves.  Oh, and don't forget the tweed.  Fancy cyclists love tweed.  Like this "chap":

Photo by greenkozi

I was reflecting about how magical this time of year is, what with its endless fashion possibilities, when I stumbled upon this terrifying provision of the City of Milwaukee cycling ordinance:

"No rider of a bicycle shall remove both hands from the handlebars, or feet from the pedals, or practice any acrobatic or fancy riding on any street."

Now, I went to law school, so I know that the first thing to do when confronted with an undefined statutory term, such as "fancy riding", is to scan nearby provisions in order to determine if that term is defined anywhere else in the statute.  So imagine my surprise when I discovered that the term "fancy riding" is not defined by the Milwaukee ordinance.  Surely, this must have been an oversight on the part of our lawmakers.  (My guess is that the ordinance was not drafted by cyclists.)

In the absence of an express statutory definition, we are forced to rely on common usage of the term "fancy riding" in order to understand the scope of the Milwaukee ordinance.  These days, and especially at this time of the year, "fancy riding" would no doubt consist of riding around in tweed smoking a pipe.  So please restrain yourselves, fellow Milwaukee cyclists, from cycling while fancy, lest you run afoul of Milwaukee Code Section 102-8(5).  And while I'm confident that my usual commuting garb would never be accused of being fancy, there are times when I ride to the courthouse in a suit and tie.  Heck, that's even fancier than tweed!  I hope our lawmakers provide some clarification on this troubling issue in the very near future. 

Bike Commuting - The Last Refuge of Adventure

Bobster855 (from the Library of Congress)

On my way to work this morning, I was making my way from the right side of the street to a left-hand turn lane. A minivan was approaching from behind, so I waited for it to pass me before making my maneuver. As I rode behind the minivan, I noticed that it was adorned with a "Share the Road with Bicycles" bumper sticker. Wow, I thought. Here's a friend! My commute so far this morning has been so lonely and now here is someone who understands me!

As I proceeded forward in the left-hand turn lane, along the driver's side of the minivan, I peered into the driver's window expecting to get a thumb's-up, or at least a wink or something. Instead, what I saw was a grumpy woman with her head buried in her cell phone. Oh well, I thought. At least she had the bumper sticker.

It's hard to "share the road" with anyone, let alone bicycles, when you've got your eyes glued to your cell phone. I sat there for a few moments, waiting for the light to change and pondering the inconsistencies of life. The light changed, and my new friend drove off, still fixated on the cell phone as she entered the intersection.

Who am I to judge? I own a car. I even drive it sometimes, like when I have to go to court in another county. I find driving to be painfully boring. The first thing I want to do when I get behind the wheel is to immediately do something else. Usually I find myself searching all the cavities of the interior of my car for CDs to listen to. I'm not one of those cycling iPod guys, so listening to music while propelling myself down the road at great speed is a delicious novelty for me. I don't even have a "Share the Road with Bicycles" bumpersticker.

So what's the solution to driving while distracted? I have no idea. So many aspects of modern living have become painfully oppressive in their repetition and comfort. Based on old footage from the birth of the automobile era, it looks like driving used to be genuinely exciting. Bad roads, bad suspension, narrow tires, no windows, and lots of mechanical failures. Kind of like riding a road bike with 23c tires pumped up to 120 psi down a potholed Milwaukee boulevard. Nevertheless, driving a car must have been a real hoot back then. Driving was dangerous, and it felt dangerous. Nowadays, driving is still dangerous, but it feels safe.

Maybe that's why I'm so addicted to bike commuting. If I can get 30 minutes of outdoor adventure before and after every workday, I feel a little bit more alive. Cycling still feels a little dangerous, in a good way.

New York Public Library

Bike Parking at the Courthouse

I've had to go to the Milwaukee courthouse the past couple of mornings for work. I don't mind riding my bike to court. Walking through the halls of the courthouse wearing a suit and tie and carrying my helmet and panniers is usually good for a couple of perplexed glances from others. Sure, the court is frequented by bike messengers, but their bulging messenger bags and their rejection of established standards of grooming usually trigger an instant cultural recognition on the part of others such that it is unnecessary for messengers to actually be in the presence of their bikes for them to project an image of bikeness. Not so for me.

I vaguely look like a lawyer, what with my suit and files (although there is room for improvement in my adherence to grooming standards). I'm afraid that carrying a bike helmet and my battered old panniers may undermine my lawyerness, at least in a visual way. Actually, I'm not really afraid. I kind of like it.

Anyway, this post was supposed to be about bike parking at the courthouse, so here goes.

The courthouse has miserable bike parking.

I'm not sure why that is. The rest of downtown Milwaukee is graced with lovely u-shaped bike racks that dot nearly every corner. They are solid racks. Simple and elegant. They don't attempt to make any profound cultural statements. They provide for cyclists without embarrassing them in the process.

For some reason, those racks don't seem to exist anywhere within a 3 block radius of the courthouse (correct me if I'm wrong - I didn't research it too thoroughly). Instead, what you get is this:



I've been near this rack during a strong wind and I was genuinely concerned that it was about to take flight. I'm not certain if it's even attached to the ground. Whereas a layman might think that this rack can hold a dozen or so bikes based on its ingenious front-wheel loading system, in reality, most people haven't locked their bike in such a fashion since they were in grade school in the mid-'70s. Nowadays, people do as the owner of the bicycle in the photo did. They lock it to the side of the rack. As a result, what you have is lots of rack and little useable space.

I usually lock my bike to a pole:


I've seen others lock their bikes to the metal grating which surrounds the undernourished trees which adorn the west side of the courthouse. Almost no one uses the bike rack.

I think I rely on bike racks too much for my general sense of security. I'm always hesitant to lock up my bike to anything other than a designated rack out of some irrational fear that the Incredible Hulk will come along, yank the pole to which my bike is attached out of the ground with one clean jerk, and make off my 20-year old heap-o-crap. I know. It's silly.

That's why the lack of sturdy racks at the courthouse troubles me so.

The court's lack of proper rackage is surprising, especially considering the fact that at least two Milwaukee County judges ride their bikes to work. On second thought, I think they get to bring their bikes into the building with them. I don't blame them. I have a feeling, however, that I wouldn't get away with doing that.