It has come to my attention, after extensive communications with the powers that be and their lackeys, that our cities have no intention of clearing the snow out of our bike lanes. They also have no intention of moving or ticketing the cars parked in the bike lanes. All this is in spite of the fact that the winter months are the harshest and most dangerous to cyclists, who are the most vulnerable of commuters year round.

However, rather than bemoan our fates, I say we do what the city should be doing and get out there ourselves and shovel out the bike lanes! If the powers that be think it’s too much hassle or just don’t care, then it’s up to us to preserve our own safety with a little DIY action.

My plan  is this, and I hope you follow along:

We should be seeing the end of the coming precipitation by this Sunday eve. At that point I will venture forth, shovel in hand, and station myself at the nearest unplowed bike lane. I will then proceed to remove the snow from it! If I am able to complete one bike lane before my back is broken, I will move on to another and clear THAT bike lane. Where will I put the snow? Wherever! It’s not my fucking problem as long as it’s not in the bike lane, right?

I urge you to take up your icepicks and shovels and buckets of sand and join  me at the front line of the battle! If you have a specific commuter route you need cleared, start there! Call your friends! Bring a boombox and make a party out of it!

If you aren’t a cyclist but just want to help, email me at kamikazelove at gmail and I’ll point you toward a lane in need!

YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE FREE OF HARASSMENT

YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO HAVE  YOUR TAXES SPENT ON PROGRAMS THAT BENEFIT YOU!

FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT TO THE STREETS!

I emailed the Bicycle Transportation contact for Boston, Cambridge and Somerville about our choked bike lanes. Somerville got back to me, but only to tell me to send a request to 311. So I have, about a few streets. It seems that Cambridge only has a ‘request a sidewalk shoveled’ page here.  Please sign in and add your street or your entire route.

I have yet to find a form for the Boston environs, but you can always email Nicole.Freedman.bra@cityofboston.gov, who represents the interests of the cycling community.

Keep fighting the good fight, kids.

Another cyclist was killed today. A tractor trailer turned in front of him on Comm. Ave. and he didn’t have time to stop. He died at the scene.

From the reports I’m reading and the general feeling of the community, it looks like it’s going to be another no-fault or cyclist-fault death. I really can’t remember the last time a motorist was publicly charged with any kind of crime in regards to a cyclist’s death around here.

I’m so, so angry, but more than that I’m scared shitless. After what happened to me the other day, I realize that I could be dead right now and nobody would have been charged with my death. Had I not jumped the curb away from my attacker’s black SUV, I might have been lying dead in the gutter until discovered by the joggers that passed by about five minutes later.  The police hadn’t made a report, so no-one would connect my  death with the altercation that happened only minutes before. And my killer would go free, just like the killers of all these other cyclists in the news of late.

I’m gravely considering giving up my bike, and buying a T pass. My commute would go from 30 minutes to 60-120 minutes one way. I would spend about $600 a year on T passes. But I would be alive. I wouldn’t have to wonder every day if I’d be alive at the end of the day. My boyfriend wouldn’t have to say, ‘PLEASE, please be careful.’ and email me to make sure I made it.

With what’ s been happening lately, it just might not be worth it to ride any more.

I was hit by a car pretty bad last week. I was taking a left onto a completely empty Mass Ave from Garfield St. and was most of the way through the intersection when a woman in a big black SUV shot out of the bank driveway trying to go straight up Garfield. I ended up with a bent fork, buggered brakes and a very bruised leg. But this is where it gets interesting…

Callie (sp?), the woman who hit me, parked immediately and got out to see if I was ok. Meanwhile, a concerned woman walking by called 911. I waved them off when they came with the ambulance, but we decided to make a police report. And then Callie and I chatted and exchanged phone numbers, and she picked my bike up in her SUV and drove me to the Wheelworks on Elm. She even offered to pay for my damage.

I thought I was in the fucking Twilight Zone. Callie and I chatted and joked in the car, musing that we could tell people about how we became friends – “We met by accident!”  Lol.

The one onion in the ointment that reinforced bitter reality turned out to be the reaction of the cop that came to take our statements. Stout, bitter little officer 303 took us individually to the side and listened to our description of the accident. When she then brought us together to give us her accident report spiel, she made it clear that she did not believe my side of the story. Scowling, she pointed to where I indicated that I had fallen – just at the south west corner of the intersection. “You’re trying to tell me that your bike moved faster than that SUV??”, she demanded.

“No, I had already entered the intersection and was mostly through it when the SUV, which had previously been parked without indicating any intention of moving, exited the bank parking lot and hit me.”, I explained.

Scowling, the cop proceeded to lecture me about how I should have been more careful, and continuing to question my version of the story in the face of both the woman who hit me and the witnesses. I could only boggle at her. Why should she believe one of our stories over the other? Why would she treat the SUV driver with respect and deference and the cyclist, who had just been injured, with suspicion and hostility?

Ultimately, no-0ne was cited (Callie and I discussed the accident at length, and her attitude was a large part of why I wasn’t more adamant about laying blame.) and there wasn’t that much wrong with Krankenberry – nothing that the guys at Ace couldn’t handle in a day.

And then today… today..

Riding home from work, I was traveling up JFK on the way into Harvard Square when another black SUV pulled abruptly into the bike lane ahead of me and then jumped into reverse to park – directly into me.  I was quick enough to swerve out of the way, and on the way I laid a slap on the SUV’s flank and intoned, “Look in your mirror, Jackass.”  The driver retorted with some colorful language and I went on my way… only to be pulled over right in the center of Harvard Square by a cruiser who had been a few cars behind us.

Both cops got out of the vehicle and when I asked them what was up, the first said, “You ran a red light back there.”

Bullshit. I had not. The lights had been straight green until I hit the square and the last light I’d gone through was yellow. They didn’t push the issue, I suppose because they knew they were fucking lying.

He then began to lecture me about how cars are dangerous and I have to be more careful (I had been in the bike lane, riding at about 12mph. How I be more careful, holmes?) and how it’s my responsibility to protect myself because ‘drivers are not gonna pay attention to  you, and they’ll be hostile at you if you’re in the road’.

Umm… then why don’t you stop them, as is your job, and instruct them to be less hostile to cyclists and more observant?? Why the fuck are you stopping ME??

He then went on to tell me, ‘You can’t put your hands on people’s property.” That’s funny, I replied; I’ve been hit and run no less than three times in Cambridge – the motorist definitely ‘touching my property’, and after they drove off, when I called into the police, I was asked, “What do you want us to do about it?”. He stammered something about how that must have been the decision of the dispatcher, and I went on to ask about who I should speak to if I want to hold someone accountable for a hit and run even if I’m not injured. He didn’t have a good answer for me, and I could tell he was getting a bit uncomfortable. He told me to be safe and sent me on my way.

Who is teaching these officers how to interact with cyclists? Because whoever they are, they’re doing a pretty shit job.  If the people charged with keeping cyclists safe see us as liars,  miscreants, and essentially nuisances on the road, how can we ever hope to protect ourselves?

Even with all the work that cycling advocacy groups are doing to raise awareness and influence infrastructure, it still doesn’t seem as if anyone’s speaking to the police force about changing their perception of the cycling public. I try, each and every time I speak to the police, to adequately describe the hardship, persecution and neglect that we face every day, but ain’t nobody got time to listen to me.

After waiting patiently at a red light on my way in this morning, I shoved off on my  green just to hear horrific screeching to my left. Yes, a motorist had run the red light and managed to slam on his brakes only inches from my left side. THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME IN TWO DAYS THIS HAS HAPPENED.  I had a well meaning but obnoxious cyclist follow me through town admonishing me for ever red light I ran. My dear friend, if I have to stop a green lights to let the motorists go past, and I have to stop at red lights, HOW THE FUCK AM I GOING TO GET TO WORK? FLY?

And we all know that if I was killed by any one of those four shitweasels, the media would have blamed it on me and the cops would have given them the walk. I wouldn’t even have the chance to be a proper martyr for my people. It really is fucking disgustingly unfair.

Also, you know what really grosses me out?

Fat Cops.

If I’m being chased by a knife-wielding psychopath or an ipod-hungry thug, and the people assigned the job of ‘protecting’ me can’t even run as fast as me, I’m dead meat for sure. Not to mention that the sweaty, bulbous, pink skinned heroes charged with ticketing bikers are issued high-powered motorcycles. Because god forbid they have to exert any energy on the way to standing in the sun drinking coffee by the side of the road. Pathetic.

I get a ton of ‘state of the bike lane’ type emails outlining just how great the biking community is doing, and how much progress is being made toward creating a culture of tolerance and equality on the roads of Boston. And then I go outside and get on my bike, and as I roll around the streets, I wonder just what Spandex Sally and Fixed Gear Fred (who apparently won’t approve my comments any more, because it’s great to be idiotically optimistic, but not ok to be appalled and cynical) are fucking talking about. It’s all very well that more bike lanes are being put down, but what does that matter if they’re still being used as personal jogging lanes, loading zones, taxi lanes, and dropoff areas for Grandma and the Special Snowflakes?

Here’s an example of what I do every day while the rest of the spandex crew are strapping on their clip shoes and patting themselves on the back:

N. Harvard Lane Patrol

After about a half hour, the police finally show up (after I called three times) and ask the vans to move. Success? Not so much. The vans  just re-parked completely on the sidewalk. I called the police again, but didn’t really have the heart to continue waiting. At least the bike lane was clear.

N. Harvard Lane Patrol, Conclusion

In the 30-40 minutes I was there, 30-40 cyclists rode through. Not one of them gave any grief to the vehicles parked in the bike lane on this extremely busy causeway.  I  know that going to bike related events in your little spandex pants and caps is super fun, and you feel like you’re part of a something important. However, unless you’re actually helping to change the on-street,  every day culture of cyclist victimization, you’re essentially only throwing money at the problem. Bike lanes don’t make streets safer unless motorists respect them. If I had a dollar for every time a car, truck or bus swerved into the bike lane and hit me or came close enough to make me scream, I could actually afford one of those chic chrome bags all the cool kids wear. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Anyway, fucking do something, guys. And I don’t mean milling about drinking beer and chowing on pulled pork. Call the cops. Videotape some shit. File a report. Support not only bike lanes but RED LIGHT CAMERAS, and bike boxes, and more traps for cars. We are a long way from getting the respect we deserve.

On a lighter note, here’s a picture of Crash eating a lobster.

Memorial Day Weekend

This used to be my bike lane…

204-209 N. Harvard St. Allston MA, Facing North

204-209 N. Harvard St. Allston MA, Facing South

There  used to be a full bike lane here, aligning perfectly with the one further north on N. Harvard. It was  a bit treacherous because all kinds of vehicles would park in it anyway to visit the Dunken Donuts lurking behind the UPS truck in pic 2, but I was vigilant and tried to clear them out every time. Sadly, the three or four times I came across a fire engine or ambulance there, they just laughed at me when I asked them to move from the bike lane.

And then, they paved the road. The bike lane has reappeared on the opposite side of the street, but I guess the Infrastructure Gurus think that our safety is less important than the public’s need for hot coffee and glazed donuts.

Thanks again, guys!

This morning on my way down Mass Ave, rather than potbellied cops on motorcycles waiting to give mild mannered cyclists unnecessary tickets, I came upon  some kind of huge DPW truck siphoning water from the nearby hydrants. The truck was in the left lane, across the road from the hydrants, and the 3″ thick hose was unavoidable. They expected traffic to go over it.  Yours truly, assuming they had taken ‘bicycle traffic’ into account when setting this up, expected the hose to give even just a little, allowing me to stay with the flow of traffic. Nope. It rolled instead, causing me to capsize in the street, completely wracking my left elbow and knee and smooshing my bike bell beyond repair. I guess my five mile run is out of the question now, as is going more than 8mph on  my bike for the rest of the week. Thanks a bunch for thinking of the cyclists, City of Cambridge!

Dicks.

I truly wish that the Hero video camera I was trying out to document my commute had been powerful enough to take quality video/audio for more than 20 minutes at a time. I see some weird shit on my daily journey, and it’s inconvenient to whip out my cell phone, since weirdness is fleeting and phone cams take forever to boot.

On Monday, I believe it was, I nearly rolled over a hand grenade lying in the middle of Mass Ave between Porter and Harvard.

This one, to be exact.

I didn’t think much of it beyond, “oh hey, that’s a hand grenade. It’s probably fake”.  Apparently more cautious folk reported it as ‘suspicious’ later on.

A day later, while cruising through Harvard Square, I witnessed a dogfight. Not that interesting except that the dogs in question were in two separate cars, stopped side by side at a red light. I laughed my balls off at that one.

Today wasn’t very interesting aside from the caravan of entitled asshats who were parked in the bike lane outside 65 N. Harvard St. in Allston. That’s right, the causway of death, which even on a good day is lousy with giant, jangling trucks, speeding yuppies and oblivious Harvard jaywalkers.

This is the last car in a line of three parked in the bike lane waiting to pick up their special snowflakes.

I had a bit of time to kill, so I spent it calling the BPD and reading off make/model/plate, while the drivers berated or begged me. My favorite was the european woman in the gold Toyota minivan, who shrieked, “Yes, yes I was in the wrong but I see that now, I won’t do it again. I swear I won’t do it again!”. Adorable.

I waited for a good ten minutes, while the traffic beeped and cursed around these model citizens (I blocked them off so they couldn’t leave, and why not, they blocked me first.) but when the police hadn’t shown up by then, I gave up. I’d say “There’s never a cop around when you need one.” but that is entirely untrue. Just last week, on this same stretch, a man got out of his car to rant at me and call me a prick for calling the cops on him. As we were shouting at each other, a calm and collected Harvard cop strolled up next to us to observe. During a break in our diatribes, he simply stated, “Sir, she’s right. Please move your car.”  I could have hugged him, I was so happy. But instead I thanked him profusely as the gentleman went on his way. Small miracles, right?

I’m not sure how to ultimately combat illegal parking on this strip aside from constant diligence and aggressive vigilantism. It won’t work, because I rarely see the same drivers twice, but at least it gives me something to look forward to during my commute.

I understand that it’s been dreary and miserable for days, and it’s got people on edge. It’s keeping me hunkered down in my living room surrounded by pillows and blankets and videogames, as I  have been all winter. But seriously, automobile commuters, fucking suck  it up. You have a roof. You have heat (usually). You have FUCKING WINDSHIELD WIPERS. I have to reach up and swipe away the droplets collecting on my glasses with an increasingly sodden glove.

This is why it irks me that drivers somehow think they are allowed to be increasingly homicidal when the weather is bad. I was intentionally hit by another driver today, who intoned the old standby, “you should not be on the road!” as he swerved sharply toward me, knocking my front wheel and sending me over the curb.

I had been in the left lane of Eliot street, Harvard Square, about to take a right on to JFK. I stay in the center of the lane during this turn because impatient drivers tend to cut the corner off as they pass me, creating a pinch point that could send me under the car. The middle eastern gentleman in dark blue sedan, plate 6CJ890, was in the lane to turn left on JFK but swerved sharply into my lane as I passed him, causing me to scream and swerve. I caught his plate as I slowly renavigated around him, and continued on down JFK about an arm’s length from the curb.

The gentleman first tailgated me and then swerved alongside to confront me, stating the old standby. As I started to retort with, “You are WRONG, Sir.” he jerked the car sharply toward me in an arc, hitting me and sending me off my bike and on to the sidewalk. I wasn’t hurt much, just a twist of the right ankle and knee and some  palm jarring, but it could have been much worse.

As I was on my way to work in Brookline, I wasn’t able to report this to the Cambridge police, and frankly, I’m not sure I even will. What is the point? The last two times I reported these incidents, I was told nothing could be done.

I regret that this ‘blog’ is turning into a running account of the impotency of the pro-cyclist movement in terms of driver deference, but I am only reporting what I encounter. I don’t encounter people waiting patiently at intersections, or stopping obediently at red lights. I watch people, day in and day out, run red lights, travel in the bike lane, double park, turn left against red and through pedestrian lights, and hit cyclists without remorse over and over and over.

Infrastructure planning is great, but the real challenge is changing the way cyclists are viewed and treated by motorists (and pedestrians, though they endanger us a bit less). And I don’t really see any headway happening in that arena. I wish I had some suggestions, but having to witness the wanton acts of stupidity and violence perpetrated by motorists daily, I am at a loss to even begin how to change their way of thinking. There is simply no way to reach these people. They don’t take the T, so a sign campaign would be fruitless. They may watch television, but who is going to spend the money on commercial spots for PSA’s about how to respect cyclists rights and bodies?

I know what you’re going to say. “Lead by example. Follow the rules, be courteous, and motorists will follow in kind.” And to that I say,

“HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHahahahahahaha..haha…ha.. *cough*  *cough* ”

I used to say the same thing, about six years ago. Since then I’ve learned that no amount of good will and positive example will keep me safe on the roads of Massachusetts or anywhere else.

So ok, I swear that this is the last  of these posts. There is no point in me stating and restating my argument.

Next post, I swear to god, will be a tutorial on how to make Carpunching Gauntlets.