Elysian stop: 10 miles to go
Over the past 13 years I’ve devolved into a crustier than thou crusty commuter. A lazy public transit rider with a bike ride on both ends. Everything has devolved along with that, form following function. My bikes are single speeds or 1 x 7. My backpack is gigantic, containing books, magazines and journals to read and write and lunches & snacks to eat and random shit I found on the ground. My wardrobe decisions are not made for long days in the saddle, they’re a compromise of comfort and function that does not scream Rapha or Castelli. Layered up like a midwest winter. My Sambas are blown out from many miles walking and many more rolling platform pedals.
My 30 mile round trip commute, if I actually rode it, would be twice my typical electric-assisted daily mileage at work.
I’ve grown to depend on the train. Like clockwork. Eyes closed muscle memory. Rote route rut routine. Heat map habitrails. Well worn neural pathways. Biorhythm - SSDD. The next train is arriving in 2 minutes. All those train rides are time for me to zone out and stare at the wall. Or read every word in the new New Yorker. Or finish off another book and then another.
It’s cool. Until it isn’t. Then it’s not cool.
“your commute just got fucked bro”
–Steve Young text 4/28/23
Due to construction, accidents, various mish mashed mishaps the trains don’t always run on time. Friday they went from every 8 minutes to every 35 minutes with two transfers required. I left home early to check it out, being day one of a potential two-week shit show and I wanted to gauge the morning commute time. I learned that it takes forever on over crowded trains with two transfers required and I will not do that again. (within 12 hours Sound Transit had improved run time and required only one transfer)
For the next couple weeks I plan to sprinkle in some more bike atop less train. All the while hoping that the tunnel repairs take less time than what they’re saying.
In the AM I can get off at Mt Baker roll MLK blah blah blah – Montlake Bridge and Fanny’s your aunt. But I think getting off at Beacon Hill rolling 12th Ave S into Capitol Hill blah blah blah – U Bridge and Bob’s your uncle, will bring me more joy punctuated by flashes of phantom nostalgia right around 12th & Howell, just 4 miles from UW.
In the PM it will depend on how soon I need to get home to Junior and Junior Junior. Train a little and bike more or no train at all and bike all the way.
Those in the know know that a 15 mile bike ride can take 4 or more hours when you work a little RAGBRAI into it.
“You’re the one telling them how it is”
– Tom Bice (with an eye roll & smirk)
Some days I don’t mind riding my bike home, when I have a choice, when it’s my decision, when I’m the one telling them how it is, when it’s sunny and 72, when I have lots of time to stop and smell the roses: Big Time, Cool Guy, Six Arms, a nod to the spirit of Bensons, Elysian, Peloton, Chucks, Ale House, Slow Boat, Jude’s and so on. This little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none and this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home with a couple tall cans hiding in plain sight.
Slowly, very slowly.
At the end of some heavy manual labor work days the last thing I want to do is go for a 15 mile bike ride. Six months out of the year here it’s dark and raining and traffic’s a real bear. In addition, I’ve noticed all the calm, courteous, respectful and polite Seattle drivers seemed to have moved away. Now they’re all assholes.
Chucks Hop Shop stop: 4 miles to go
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