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The Tyee — Portland’s Bicycle Brilliance.

Here’s a piece on cycling in Portland from The Tyee.  It’s actually part two of three about Portland.  The first was about the arts community and having fun (aka bars and pubs in the article).  The third will be about homelessness in Portland.

I didn’t really care much about part one, although it did point out that Vancouver city hall has some interesting bylaw restrictions and liquor permit restrictions that I didn’t know about.

The cycling part is more interesting to me, particularly the theory on four cycling personalities

Four cycling personalities

In the early 2000s, [Roger] Geller sat in his office in the Portland department of transportation thinking hard about the demographic of bikers in the city. He developed a theory, later backed up by research at the Portland State University, that broke them into four separate groups.

On one end sits No Way No How, the one third of the population who has no interest in biking whatsoever. Maybe they’ll take a ride on a weekend through the park, but even in the best of conditions they probably won’t bike on a regular basis. They just don’t want to.

Then you have the Enthused and Confident, not quite kamakazis, but close. These are the roughly seven per cent of people who will bike in the city where it’s relatively safe, relatively comfortable, if not a little unnerving for the average person.

Above them, on the extreme end of the spectrum sit the Strong and Fearless, perched on their bikes in the pouring rain, in the middle of the street, ready to go. They represent almost nothing, maybe one per cent of the city’s population, the bike couriers and other kamakazis who will bike anywhere, anytime, now matter how dangerous or poor the conditions.

And everyone else? They’re the Interested but Concerned, the other 60 some-odd per cent of the population with a rational fear of cycling in the city. They like the idea of cycling, they know it’s good for their health, and for the environment, but they only want to do it if it’s as safe and comfortable as their ride in a car or bus. And these are the people that American cities, Portland and Vancouver included, need to aim their bike infrastructure at, Geller argues.

I think I would find myself in the Interested but Concerned group.  I would like to cycle to work, but I don’t think it’s practical enough to do on a daily basis.  I would really need to work my life around my ride to and from work.  The extra clothing that I have to carry and my lunch box, in particular, add a lot of weight.  I’m lucky that I have a shower at work, but I’m still only willing to bike once a week to and from work.  I just don’t like the hassle.  I have a 12km commute at the end of which I find myself dripping in sweat.  Bus and SkyTrain involve less changing of clothes.

However, I would love to have more bicycle infrastructure at the same time.  I use 10th Avenue the most, but I find parts of 10th to be hairy, especially near Vancouver General Hospital.  There isn’t even a signal at Fraser Street for this major bike route.  Also, the south of 45th Avenue is totally void of a major east-west bike route [although there are plans for a route along 59th Avenue].

What would Vancouver need to appeal to these people? I asked.

“Better infrastructure,” says Geller. “So the network is more complete. Most of our network is on street. It takes you where you need to go. Paths are wonderful, but they’ve got to be integrated with a good on-street network.”

Admittedly, he also says bike lanes aren’t enough for most of this group. Further separation, like buffered bike lanes, or separate cycle tracks (like the three glorious blocks of the Carrall Street Greenway Vancouverites are taunted by) are ideal, but a bike lane is a start.

I also use the 7-11 Trail that follows the Expo Line quite a bit.  However, that trail is simply not very commuter friendly.  It might be a nice bike jaunt on the weekend, but if you are trying to get somewhere, the trail throws you a few zig-zags along the way.  Not to mention that parts of the trail are more hilly than I care for.  Paths are wonderful, but I’d rather see something more direct in some cases.

I’d like to say I’m sorry, but I won’t.

I think maybe the rain is talking to me. The one day I forget my umbrella, and it’s pouring, maybe I’ve gone crazy. Because the rain is trying to talk to me, but I can’t hear it because I’m walking down Tenth Avenue wiping water out of my eyes while my shoes kick up mud, my sundress gets soaked, and truck drivers scream cat calls as they drift slowly uptown.

Stop screaming at me, I want to yell back. I’m trying to listen to the fucking rain.

The Ballast offers an exclusive look at the newly opened High Line Park, Manhattan’s elevated park running along the West Side offering sweeping views of the New York City skyline to the East and the Hudson River to the West. This was a restoration project years in the making that re-utilized the elevated railroad tracks that have stood abandoned for years. The Park runs from Gansevoort Street in the Meatpacking District all the way up to 34th street. Have a look at the map HERE. At the moment the High Line is only opened until 20th street, with the rest planned to open soon.

“You need someone to help you stick the needle in…”

Hand of Doom

Black Sabbath

      I nod as she touches the sleeve of my pink, striped 10th Avenue work shirt.  I get drinks and after the drag show Nikki dances smoking watching herself in the mirror watching me while I watch her not taking many drink orders and my boss yells at me after my shift and Nikki hangs out with the drag queens drinking their free drinks and I count out and Nikki and I go to Chris’ Impala that, as usual, I have borrowed and we start to kiss in his car after taking a few tokes off a joint couple of bumps of coke and I have my hands on her breasts and she holds my hands tighter against her and I am rubbing her breasts through the T-shirt.

          . . . She’d sat on a stool in a dark corner of the bar, wearing a Skinny Puppy T-shirt, leather jacket, black hair pulled back with white bandanna, Siouxsie Sioux makeup accented darkness of her eyes. Her white skin innocence tempted me even though it’s probably an illusion or too elusive.  Her breasts stretched out blackness of shirt distorting design.  She smoked a cigarette through an aqua filter- lip’s red contrasts her complexion–one of hours spent indoors sleeping while the sun ravaged the planet, her eyes sink into mine- mine, hers.  I carried my tray defensively hoping no one runs into me sending my thoughts flying- just allow me to walk aimlessly through the crowd not asking customers if they need more to consume or picking up empty bottles and glasses- just me thinking and wondering why she sees me.

     I look- not looking, walking one more time around the club, return to her eyes, smile. She smiles, nods, I nod, she waves me over.  Drinking eyes drink me.

     Being drunk, I can already see the finale.  

     __Can I ask you a personal question?

     __Yes.

     __Are you straight?

     __Yes.

     She smiled and I fell down standing drinking and drowning.

     __Like your leather.  Seems it’s been with you for awhile.

     __Thanks, I have had it a long time.__She smiles inhaling on her dying cigarette.

 Her name is Nikki.

     End of night she says- I’ll be here tomorrow.- I’ll be here tomorrow as well- I say.  She’s bi, no visible signs of disease.  Can’t wait until tomorrow…

     She wears no bra we are still in the parking lot of 10th avenue and we are soon entangled in the back seat and she is straddling me as we kiss and her eyes pull me below the calm to the tempest and i smell beer and pot and tobacco and this is what i think man was intended to be doing all the time (how do i tell Dr. Carter that this is the only philosophy i believe in?) and we are soon lost and i don’t know where we are or why this is happening aside from choosing its occurrence and i swear to God that Nikki drenched me in splendor and bitter-white-lied-spider-webbing as we came together…

Mayor Gregor Robertson laments city’s cycling “hesitation” >> Georgia Straight

According to the 2006 census, 3.7 percent of all trips to work are made by bicycle, a 12-percent increase over the figure reported in the 1996 census. The cycling mode share is highest in the South Cambie and West Point Grey–Kitsilano areas, at 11.9 and 11.8 percent, respectively. The mode share in Grandview-Woodlands is also over 11 percent.

Well, the numbers are not totally surprising given that most of the bike routes are in the neighbourhoods mentioned above.  If we think of the Off-Broadway and 10th Avenue routes alone, that would cover all three of the neighbourhoods above.  And those routes are literally blocks from each other.  I’m happy that 10th Ave was made a bike route because the Off-Broadway along 7th and 8th is really hard to climb when going westbound.  Plus, 10th is probably now one of the busiest routes.

However, the rest of the city really lags in designated bike routes.  If you look at South Vancouver, there is barely any.  There are few north-south routes, but there is almost nothing south of the Ridgeway/Midtown route.  If Mayor Robertson wants higher cycling numbers, then more routes through the neighbourhoods south of 16th Avenue would be a great start.

Once I rode from Kerrisdale to Killarney in the night.  It was a tough ride.  There were no true bike routes and few of the bike signals to cross the major roads.  I used 45th Avenue for most of the route, but go back and forth between the different streets.  Signage would have helped to direct me to where the appropriate crossings would be and not end up in a dead end road.  However, the ride took me past many parks, including the expansive Memorial South Park.  It went by major shopping areas like Kerrisdale, Oakridge and South Hill/Fraser St.  That’s my nomination for the next crosstown route.

Possible 45th Ave bike route (Kerrisdale)

In Kerrisdale, there are plenty of shops and services.  It is already a major destination for those who live on the West Side.  There’s even a bike store right near the starting point (green diamond) of the route in the picture.  This point is a little off the main stretch along 41st Avenue, but that’s not far by bike.  Even a walk from 45th to 41st is pretty quick along West Boulevard because of all the eye candy in shop windows along the way.

Possible 45th Ave bike route (Oakridge)

As 45th Avenue crosses Oak Street towards Cambie, the route has to turn south towards 47th Avenue for a few blocks.  The ride would take you through a rare neighbourhood on the West Side – an apartment neighbourhood that abuts against Oakridge Centre.  Plus, there is Tisdall Park just south of Oakridge Centre.  The mall and the park would be major destinations for any cyclist.  Also, the new Canada Line stations at 41st and 49th Avenues could be great transfer points to go north to Broadway and downtown or south into Richmond.

Possible 45th Ave bike route (South Hill)

Another great destination along 45th Avenue is South Hill.  45th Avenue goes right through the heart of this great retail area.  This East Side neighbourhood has great little shops, most of which are from a variety of ethnic backgrounds.  The South Hill Education Centre, John Oliver, and the South Hill Library are all nearby the route.  There’s also the very large Memorial South Park.  So weekend outings or a Little League game could be a big draw for some recreational cyclists using the route.

Possible 45th Ave bike route (Killarney)

After Victoria Drive, the ride takes one into the very suburban feel of Killarney.  The route must dip southwards again, but it passes Nanaimo Park and Waverley Elementary on the way.  The route can then meet back up with 45th Avenue either at Nanaimo Street or Vivian Street.  At that point, there is already an established bike route (Midtown) that follows 45th Avenue all the way to Boundary Road and Central Park on the Burnaby side.  Killarney Park and the newly upgraded Killarney community centre, pool, and rink are very close by.  Killarney Park has been the overnight destination for the Weekend to End Breast Cancer for the past few years.

So I think there’s a lot going for45th Avenue as a major crosstown bike route.  There’s still more road from West Boulevard westward that I haven’t really explored, but I think it would be worth taking the route all the way to Marine Drive. Hopefully the planners already had 45th Avenue on their radar and this post will be a moot point.  However, if it wasn’t on the radar before, I hope it will be now.

 [View looking north at the Northern spur over 10th Avenue.]

Work is quickly progressing at the Northern spur, a horticultural preserve located on a portion of the High Line that juts across 10th Avenue, just north of Chelsea Market.  The landscape at the Northern spur is designed to recall the self-sown landscape that grew up on the High Line after the trains stopped running. The High Line’s landscape team planted over 7,500 native grasses and perennials in early November, before the soil froze.

Construction crews are now beginning to install non-slip, brushed-aluminum grating panels along a ramped structure that will provide access to and from the lower level. At the mid-point of the ramp, a cantilevered overlook will offer visitors views of both the preserve below them, and of the city beyond.

[Detail: A brushed-aluminum ramp provides a non-slip walking surface between the lower and upper levels of the High Line.]

 [View from cantilevered overlook looking north. The rail tracks here once delivered goods into the adjacent refrigerated warehouse building.]

[Planting layout and installation at the Northern spur, in November.]

[View of the Northern spur preserve looking south from the 10th Avenue Square.]

Ken Nolan, HN class of ‘63 and Bishop Ford class of ‘67 composed a remarkable piece on Farrell’s Bar & Grill.  Ken grew up on Sherman Street between 10th and 11th avenues.  Nolan’s parents also attended Holy Name.  He is now a successful attorney living in Bay Ridge but still has the house on Sherman.

Here’s the original post, click to go to Mr. Bellers Neighborhood.

He even gave this blog some love towards the end.  Thanks KN.  Good lookin’ out!

Here are some excerpts:

Growing up with a bar on nearly every corner didn’t seem strange since we knew nothing else. Sure there were black neighborhoods and Italian and Jewish, but except for CYO basketball and baseball games, we didn’t go there. We stayed on the familiar streets where our parents were born, married and died. In those innocent days, we passed these bars on the way to school, to church, bouncing our basketballs or our Spaldeens, peering in to see the Yankee score. After all, we were Irish and drink was what we did—at wakes and weddings and every county ball.

Ain’t that the truth?  A bar on every corner…Passing the bars as youngsters dribbling a basketball! While dribbling, I use to look at myself in the reflection of the front window to make sure my handle was strong.

All the other bars are long gone and probably for the better. Farrell’s remains although it has changed over the years. When I stop in, I recognize a few faces but not most. The neighborhood of families living paycheck to paycheck has been replaced by writers, lawyers, doctors living in homes that cost a million or more. We used to joke that we had to do better than our parents, we had live in a better home than mine on Sherman Street—bigger, no bunk beds, a backyard where you could have a catch, a shower rather than a cold narrow bathtub. The piercing irony is that now most can’t afford Windsor or Fuller Place or even the once smelly tenements on 15th St or 16th Streets. Had we foresight and a bank book, we could have bought half the block for what it cost to buy one home today. Only when we left did we realize what we lost.

Preach on my brother, preach on! Just strolling the avenue there were many unrecognizable mugs walking their dogs, cell phone on their shoulder pressed against their ear, trying to juggle a cup of coffee.   I stopped by Farrell’s and the only familar face I saw was my buddy  John-John Hernandez.

Doesn’t anyone say ‘thank-you’ anymore?

Are these words not being taught at home? In school? Are they still part of the American vocab?

Lately, I have been the victim of these inconsiderate people.

For example, I held the door open for someone the other night at the coffee shop I visit and the person walked right in without saying a word.  I was like, “this bastard!”

This morning my wife went through the same thing!

Where does this type of behavior come from?

Holding the door is common courtesy, no?  I teach Taylor to hold the door for others and to always say thank you.

Now, when I hold the door for someone and I fail to get a response I reply with, “YOU’RE WELCOME!”

You have to see the look on their face when they turn back and stare at me…

Am I being out of line here?  Let me know?  Should I just let it go?  is it worth blogging about?  I actually wanted to see if others go through this?

While I’m on the subject of  proper etiquette, what is up with the drivers on the road?

People are in such a hurry!

Cutting you off, not letting you merge and God forbid if you are first at a red light, and forget to get started when the light turns green, everyone behind you beeps their horn!

I was driving around the Circle last week and it was like the Indy 500.  Oh wait, I mean Bartel-Pritchard Square.  Do you recall the black, marble monument on the circle?  Do you remember what we use to do once there with your friends?

Also, did I mention how drivers ‘roll’ through Stop signs at a four-way intersection? I was driving across 10th avenue coming up on Windsor Place and someone was rolling through the Stop outside the Windsor Pub.  I’m like, “Is this schmuck gonna stop or what?”

Remember the Windsor Pub?  Ouch…

And to think, I did wake up on the ‘right’ side of the bed this morning!

Most New Yorkers might consider searching for the perfect patio akin to torture; some enjoy instant success while others find themselves lost in a vortex of avenues and side streets, dangerously close to starvation before they finally stumble upon a sweet outdoor oasis.

Meanwhile, patios are like babies to the restaurants that have them; theirs is always the prettiest. Trestle on Tenth, the Swiss-influenced American nugget of rustic charm located at 24th and 10th Avenue, is no different. And the restaurant that takes its name from a close proximity to the High Line, isn’t one to lie. But New York’s extreme supply-and-demand dining environment makes it risky business to have “hearty” as a middle name, even if your patio is the most beautiful in town.

Every savvy diner knows that the words “hearty” and “summer” just don’t go together. Ralf Kuettel would disagree. As an alum of Union Square Café, he’s quite comfortable using ingredients that will make your mouth beg for more. But if you’re watching your figure – I mean, staring at it with a magnifying glass – you’re likely to run from this menu like a vampire before garlic. Born and trained in Switzerland, his menu carries strong French and German influence. His courtship with ingredients like butter, sour cream, bacon and cheese suggest some sort of familiar bond; they find their way into his recipes often. And he likes it that way. Don’t expect him to change, either; Kuettel is also the owner.

The small menu, Kuettel says, allows him to focus on small things (notwithstanding big flavor). Assuming you’ve come to bust a grub, the menu is sure to please. If you’ve dived headlong into the train wreck that is your current summer diet, you might find Trestle cuisine a pleasant distraction. Unfortunately, the tight quarters might make the food a bit difficult to swallow – even for one with a summer figure.

Still, the block of assorted Swiss cheeses and meats ($14), including soppressata, with the crepinette of pork shoulder with sautéed spinach ($12) – one of the most celebrated dishes in the restaurant – and the roasted pork loin with butter pecans and black trumpet mushrooms ($22) might give you reason to frequent Trestle, even on a hot summer night.

Arrive ready to drink. With a decent beer selection and strong supporting wine list the experience is bound to be a memorable one. Kuettel’s “free trade mentality” about wine might raise questions as to whether he can take credit for the list all on his own; Kuettel’s wife, Juliette Pope, is the wine director at Gramercy Tavern and most likely his cheat sheet.

Don’t let that fleeting diet deprive you of what might be a really cool neighborhood summer spot. While Trestle on Tenth may not be a destination, it’s a spot worth going to if you’re in the neighborhood.

Oh, and the patio is absolutely delicious.

Read my review on Edge

May 19, 2008 | in NYTimes

A 22-year-old man was arrested Sunday and charged with killing a shopkeeper who was found dead in her dry cleaning store in Brooklyn last week, the police said.

The suspect, Jamal Winter, was arrested at his home in Park Slope, Brooklyn, early yesterday morning. He was charged with murder and robbery, the police said.

The killing shook up the Windsor Terrace neighborhood where residents and neighbors described the victim, Kyung-Sook Woo, 52, as a mainstay, a determined but lovable fixture in the community, who despite being robbed at least twice remained committed to serving her customers.

An employee of Mrs. Woo’s at the Eden Dry Cleaners and Tailoring shop, at 1623 10th Avenue, arrived Friday morning and found her boss dead inside.

The police believe she was strangled the night before.

A disturbing incident occurred on the corner of Windsor Place and 10th avenue Friday. The proprietor of the dry cleaners was found dead.

I recall the business located up the block between Fuller and 10th avenue, just a hop-skip and a jump away from the current address.

The original spot was located next to Mr. Martin’s house.

Occasionally I would drop off my button-down dress shirts to be cleaned and pressed (with extra starch of course).  I was impressed with their attention to detail and found them to be very nice people.

I hope they catch the scumbag who committed this heinous crime and jail him for life.

Here is a link to the story via the New York Times.

[Cowboy on 10th Avenue and 17th Street. Click to enlarge.]

This is one of our favorite historical images. The West Side Cowboys were employed by the City to ride in front of street-level freight trains and wave pedestrians out of the way. This was the City’s stopgap measure to stop the carnage on what was known as “Death Avenue.” The Cowboys were phased out after the High Line was built, raising train traffic to the third story of industrial buildings. The cowboy above is from the 1930’s, when the High Line was being built, and the structure is visible in the background. The cowboy below dates from 1911, before the High Line was a glimmer in its daddy’s eye.

[Cowboy on 13th Street and 11th Avenue in the Meatpacking District. Photo from Shorpy.com, the 100-Year-Old Photo Blog. Click to enlarge and note the guy with the pegleg.]

After the jump, the 1934 London Terrace Tatler waxes eloquent about the Cowboys and their brave ponies.

Note:  This story was taken from the London Terrace Towers site, which has a great history section.

London Terrace News – January 1934

Cowboys of the Cobblestones

Every resident of London Terrace knows , and we believe, likes the cowboy riders of the New York Central, who day and night, rain or shine, majestically precede the electric trains along Tenth Avenue. For over eighty years this unique custom has been in existence, but now, even as the riders of the West have faded into glamorous limbo of romance, their own day is drawing to its close. With the early completion of the overhead roadway, they will disappear from the streets of New York, leaving many to change “The Last Round Up” as the brass bands announce the official opening of a modern Manhattan miracle.
Law of the Range

The story of these riders goes back to December 4, 1850 when the City Council passed a law compelling trains on the streets of New York to be preceded by a rider on horseback, on block ahead of the locomotive, waving a red flag by day and a red light by night to warn pedestrians and prevent runaways of horse-drawn vehicles. This quaint law is still in force, and the New York Central must, until it rises above the street, provide its riders or suffer revocation of its franchise.

Two Mile Ride

The Tenth Avenue freight route extends from 30th Street south to St. John’s yards below Canal Street, a distance of about two miles. To cover the operation of the various trains, a staff of twelve riders is maintained. These boys, who must all be over eighteen years old, are almost wholly recruited from Tenth Avenue and West Street, and strange as it may appear, riders are difficult to find, and only those who have, by strange fortune, learned to ride in the county are used, because a country boy knows and understands horses, and is thus prepared for any unexpected excitement that might affect his steed.

The “Ranch Boss” of these cowboys is the Superintendent of the New York Central Freight Yards, and since the law has been in effect two of the riders have risen from the range to the important position of Yard Masters.

The Ponies

The horses used in this unusual service are tried and true, and are perfectly aware of their important mission in life. They know traffic and excitement, thick fogs and blinding storms, the deep-throated adieus of departing liners and the tremendous thrill of screaming fire engines, but through it all they move surely and serenely, carrying out the Law of the City Council and giving opportunity for their gallant riders to amuse the passerby with amazing variation of the routine waving of the red lanterns. The effective term of duty of these mounts for this service is over eight years, duet to the special care and the use of rubber padding on their hoofs, and when their usefulness on the city pavements is over they are auctioned off at the Bulls Head Horse Market to continue their lives on softer turf in greener pastures.