12/02/2016
One Broadway / Kendall Sq at Main St / 3rd St (2:23 pm)
Porter Square Station (2:47 pm)
Drivers
and pedestrians watch bikers run red lights frequently enough to
sometimes ask me if this is legal. It is not. My usual response is to
link it to jaywalking against the crossing signal or texting from behind
the wheel - just because it happens every moment of the day doesn't make it legal.
On
this day, I watch a biker zoom past me and through a red at the
intersection of Galileo Galilei Way and Broadway. This usually happens once or twice every time this particular light turns red. What happens next is new - a police
motorbike turns onto the road behind it and pulls the rider over at the
next intersection. I'd love to hear the conversation but by the time I reach the next light, both parties have moved on.
Still,
progress... right? The crazy riders zooming through lights need to be stopped! It's only fair, I think, because if we aren't pulling bikers over, then how will we
ever justify pulling drivers over for...
-Rolling
through stop signs
-Failing to pass with at least three feet of
clearance
-U-turning
across double median lines
-Driving while texting
-Cutting bikes off to
pick up ride-share passengers
-Opening the car door without looking
-Doing karaoke while driving
-Reversing suddenly on a one-way street
-Double parking their vans on moving day
-Texting while doing karaoke while driving
-Driving with an elbow on the wheel while threatening to run me over
-Leaning out
the car window to yell a (technically not applicable but still offensive) racial slur at me
-Taking their eyes off the road to yell 'HELMET' and almost swerving into a parked car as they do it
-Gravely referring to
their crashes as 'accidents'
-Pissing away our clean air and natural
resources
-Contributing to a national dependency leading to the Cheetos mascot
being elected...
...never mind. Let's just focus on nabbing those wild bikers going three miles per hour through a red light at an empty intersection first. If these people are whatever it is I was called, maybe we can deport them, too. Broken windows theory, I think this is known as.
12/14/2016
Harvard University River Houses at DeWolfe St / Cowperthwaite St (3:59 pm)
Danehy Park (4:14 pm)
Danehy Park (8:22 pm)
Cambridge Main Library at Broadway / Trowbridge St (8:41 pm)
When
I first started on Hubway, I was constantly aware of the
clock. The thirty-minute timer, if exceeded, resulted in a fine of at
least one dollar. Additional increments would send the fine ever-higher.
As
I became more comfortable, I found myself less concerned about this.
Generally, I knew when my time limit was approaching and made
the adjustments necessary to get my bike docked without penalty. But if I
lost a buck, well, Hubway, thanks for nothing...
In
some cases, I stayed on the bike past the thirty minute limit. Sometimes, I just decided paying the fine
was worth the minutes saved docking and unlocking a bike to reset the
timer. In others, I recognized docking the bike was a potential mistake because
others could take the bike away before Hubway would allow me to take
out a new bike during my one-minute waiting period.
This
pattern is not unique to biking. In fact, I suppose it is a universal
feature of many things. We become better at something and, over time,
lean less on the rules and definitions guiding our beginnings. A
seed always looks the same as any other. It's growth and light and
understanding fusing with underlying characteristics which ultimately
determine how things take shape.
Hospice volunteering
is no different. On this day, I stay well past my six PM end time. When I
leave it is almost eight. There is a new resident there and
my instincts suggest leaving would be a mistake. I have the time and so
I stay.
The visit ends up being one of my most
memorable. The resident is originally from another country. We seem to
share a kinship of spirit. By the end of the night, I'm accused of being
both a healer and a writer.
I'm not so sure about her conclusion. When I leave, we agree to aim for one out of two.
