Why on Earth Do I Write a Blog?

Look closely. Illustration by Roy Blumenthal
used under Creative Commons license.

Today I opened Google Reader, my preferred method for managing most blog subscriptions. At the new year I pruned my subscriptions severely because I had such a backlog I knew I had oversubscribed. In theory, then, I have a more “manageable” subscription list.

In the Spokane folder alone I see 88 unread posts. In the Biking folder it was something like 76 (started reading those first and don’t remember the number). Transportation has 93. Food has 57. And so on, and so on.

I will—yet again—make liberal use of the “mark all as read” button so I can move on. Certainly I’m missing out on some wonderful content, new ideas, fresh inspiration, great recipes and what-have-you. But life is short and there will always be more.

I imagine you, Dear Reader, in your fleece long johns and robe with your cup of hot coffee at a cluttered dining room table with unfinished taxes looming to your right (OK, I’m projecting a little here—just because that’s where I am at 10:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning it doesn’t mean that’s what you look like right now).

Why would you read this blog, from among all the others you subscribe to or stumble across on the web?

When I started this blog 2-1/2 years ago it initially served as an experiment. I wanted to see what kind of time and effort it took to produce a blog so I would know what I was getting into if I launched one at work (which is why we still haven’t launched one at work—I now know the beast must be fed!).

I kept it up—no idea why since I’m pretty sure even my daughters weren’t reading it, and Mom doesn’t have a computer and couldn’t use it if she did—and over time started seeing comments and getting clickthroughs on links I shared via Twitter and Facebook.

My stats are teensy but you are out there. I’m just thinking out loud here about what value I add in your life and why I should keep it up if you’re just clicking “mark all as read” and moving on. It’s a discouraging thought.

I’d better go read some of those blog posts.

Tell me, please: Why do you read this blog?

If Bikes Were Electric Hand Dryers

Stay with me, people—this makes total sense. Look at the label you will find on many an electric hand dryer in the rest stops of our nation’s highways.

Now indulge me in a little creative copy editing.

Photo of the label on a restroom electric hand dryer. Text reads: Dryers help protect the environment.  They save trees from being used for paper towels.  They eliminate paper towel waste.  They are more sanitary and help maintain cleaner facilities.
Dryers Bikes help protect the environment.

They save trees from being used for paper towels foreign oil imports from being used for fuel.

They eliminate paper towel waste vehicle emissions, wear and tear on roads, competition for parking, and a growing epidemic of  heart disease, Type 2 diabetes, and other metabolic conditions.

They are more sanitary cheaper to use than paper cars and help maintain cleaner facilities air and better roads.

So how do we get this posted in places where you can’t avoid reading the same message over and over? Are you with me, World Dryer Corporation?

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Hint: It's the First Word in the Boy Scout Law (No, Not Clean or Brave)

I had an epiphany about cycling—while I was driving.

Maybe because I don’t drive very often any more, choosing to take Spokane Transit to work if it’s too snowy for my skinny road tires, I’m more conscious of the actual act of driving.


Or maybe I’m more conscious thanks to cycling itself. Behind the wheel I’m far more aware than I used to be, back when I drove-drove-drove everywhere, that there might be a cyclist about to come around the corner, or a pedestrian stepping into the crosswalk at the intersection of two one-way streets where most drivers will look only for other vehicles, not for walkers and pedalers.

At any rate, my aha moment was this: Roads require an enormous amount of trust.

Think about every four-way uncontrolled stop in the city. You trust that everyone remembers to yield to the guy on the right, and that they’re actually looking and able to see you there.

Think about every signal, for that matter. You trust that you can proceed into the intersection when the light turns green, because those other people will pay attention to the red light and stop. (There’s no trust involved in yellow lights, though, because in Spokane those mean “accelerate through the intersection!”).

On our bikes, we have to trust that drivers won’t swerve too close and catch us with a sideview mirror, or open a door just as we pass. (Well actually, as the Russian proverb has it, trust-but-verify—stay alert out there!)

When we walk, we have to trust that drivers and cyclists will observe pedestrian right-of-way laws.

When this trust is violated, we feel outrage, as drivers, as cyclists, as pedestrians.

Are you trustworthy?

This post first appeared on the Cycling Spokane blog. I got to thinking about it the other day and thought it was worth recycling. More to come on my trust issues.


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Making Soup—er, Bike Networks


Joyride author Mia Birk titled a recent blog post “The Bikeway Network Recipe.” She describes several communities, all of which took different routes to achieve increased levels of bike infrastructure and bike use.

She concludes that the specifics matter less than simply getting under way and moving quickly. (Kind of like a bike ride, when you think about it—the sooner you start riding the sooner you arrive.)

I’d like to extend the recipe analogy a little more. I make a lot of soup because it’s easy to include lots and lots of veggies and healthy grains and beans, it helps me use up leftovers although I can also just start from scratch, it freezes well for lunches, and my whole family is crazy about soup, although of course each person has his or her favorite.

I generally just start with whatever I have on hand. That could be leftovers or it could be a trip to pantry and freezer and a little cooking to prep some kind of grain/protein ingredient such as quinoa, rice or barley.

In thinking about Spokane’s recipe for bike infrastructure I conclude that we are making soup.

Starting with what we have on hand: This is where every improvisational recipe bike network has to start.

Including healthy ingredients: That’s kind of a no-brainer when you’re talking about riding a bike.

Using up leftovers: In a manner of speaking, yes. People on bikes often get the leftovers: the bit of shoulder the driver doesn’t occupy (that day. You hope.).

This is also true in the positive sense of the word. Out of some “leftover” asphalt and paint you can create something wonderful by giving someone on a bike a travel lane. The cost of adding bike infrastructure elements to a street project is mere pennies on the dollar, in return for which you get transportation that doesn’t create any wear and tear on the roads.

To me this is the strongest parallel to the soup-making process. A magical transformation takes place when you chop up onions, potatoes, and other vegetables, choose some seasonings from the spice drawer, and throw in some leftover rice. Out of elements that others might not have thought of in quite this way you have created something wonderful that people appreciate.

 But it doesn't happen if you don't start, and it doesn't happen without any ingredients.

Starting from scratch: We need to do this too. In the case of something like the Centennial Trail or the Fish Lake Trail, people had the vision and put together the ingredients to create a new treat for everyone.

Creating something useful both in the short term and in the long run (like the leftovers that remain after a good dinner): Absolutely. In the short term we are piecing together individual stretches of bike lanes and other markings and signage that in the long run will come together in a connected network that provides access across the city.

When you’re in mid-soup sometimes it doesn’t taste like much. In similar fashion the appearance of short stretches of bike lanes in downtown might not appear to represent a huge step forward—it doesn’t take us all the way from raw veggies to soup. But given time those stretches of bike lane will get connected.

The important thing is to remember the goal and stay focused on making soup. Sometimes you don’t have quite the right mix of ingredients and you need to add a little balsamic vinegar or garlic (always garlic). The way the soup changes as the ingredients come together draws on a cook’s skills to keep adapting along the way.

Making different kinds of soup for different people: This will be essential to the long-term growth of bike riding in Spokane. We are not a one-soup-fits-all town.

The “fast and fearless”—those of us who know how to take the lane and who will assert our right to use the road for transportation—get out and ride with only minimal ingredients at hand.

The “interested but concerned” need the support of a more fully detailed recipe that takes into account their allergies (say, to close encounters with careless drivers) and special dietary needs (wayfinding, for example, to encourage the use of bikes on the short trips of 1-2 miles that constitute the majority of U.S. transportation trips).

The “no way no how” people just don’t like soup. But that’s no reason the rest of us can’t have our soup and ride it too.

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