Think I might do my third century next month.
Riding to catch the Metro on my morning commute, I changed lanes on Sunset Blvd. to make a left turn onto Highland.Writing September 16th 2009
To be honest, there are few things in this world that please me more than a well-executed left turn, and I've made a point to become rather proficient at it. One of the best compliments that a man ever gave me (And got me instantly into bed with) was a positive appraisal of my left turn onto La Brea west on Sunset.
I began to signal my intentions with frequent glances back, making eye contact with the driver coming up in the lane beside me. As humans, we respond to faces. Then, when I began to sense an opening in traffic, I held out my left arm, finger directed to my desired position. The motion must be confident and strong. After a couple more looks, I leaned to the left, moving smoothly into the lane, possessing it centrally.
I looked over my shoulder again, finding the next lane clear enough for me to move right away. So I leaned again, taking the next lane.
And then it was time to change into the left turn aisle. Ideally, I split the lane to move to the front of the line and catch the mercifully protected turn. I don't think it is exactly legal, but if it's feasible, it's such a moment of forgiveness on such an unforgiving ride.
But splitting a lane is also a pretty daring move, and I reserve the maneuver only for the most certain moments. We once dared it during rush hour on Wilshire Blvd. on the way to Westwood under the freeway. I watched my companion ahead of me wiggle through a a tight side mirror clearance, and I was forced to immediately duplicate the move. When we arrived at our destination, I was drenched in sweat and happy to be alive.
I looked ahead and saw that the cars were halted at a red light, which meant that I could catch the next green arrow, but first I had to thread the needle. It's important to remember to never let your faith in your bike falter. When you doubt your bike, that's when it betrays you.
So I cast off my doubt and pursed my lips as I dove into the lane. It was fine until the eye of the needle narrowed, perhaps glaring at my agility. It intimidated me, I could feel my grip soften and the bike slip from me. But I looked up and eyed my target ahead of the clearance, and I wanted it, so I stabilized the bike beneath me, and took it.
I made it, of course, and stopped ahead of the limit line, turning back to eye the driver for visual confirmation. I received it just as the arrow came on and I kicked off, swinging wide and starting the climb up Highland.
Of course she cleared the passage. She always could. She always can.
After all, it's about the rider - not the bike.
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Not directly apropos to the post to which this comment is attached, I wish to write a few words about Mary Travers. (Incidentally, I always enjoy reading your bike riding posts).
Mary Travers, a striking figure of power and glamour in the early-1960s folk music movement, died Wednesday at Danbury Hospital in Connecticut after suffering from leukemia for several years. She was 72.
Mary was best known as the blond with the bangs who commanded the middle microphone with Peter, Paul and Mary, a trio that brought folk music from coffeehouses to top-40 radio.
She was born in Louisville, Kentucky, but grew up in Greenwich Village and came up through the New York coffeehouse circuit, singing on her own before she was put together with Paul Stookey and Peter Yarrow by famed manager Albert Grossman, who also managed Bob Dylan.
Peter, Paul and Mary (or simply PPM) as the band came to be known, saw folk music both as an art and as an instrument for change. The trio took considerable criticism from fellow folk singers for developing a sound that some considered too "commercial" and not "authentic" enough.
Travers always strongly defended the trio's sound, saying that they were in the folk tradition by making music accessible to everyone, not just academic collectors. "I'm not sure I want to be singing 'Leaving on a Jet Plane' when I'm 75," she said in one interview. "But I know I'll still be singing 'Blowin' in the Wind.' "
The trio was responsible for some of the most iconic songs of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Their long list of hits includes, “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” “Lemon Tree,” “If I Had a Hammer,” “The Wedding Song,” “Blowing In the Wind,” and “Puff the Magic Dragon.” It is hard to imagine any child growing up in the US in the last 40 years who has not heard, and sang along, “Puff.” We all share a communal image of Jackie Paper, and that rascal Puff, traveling on a boat with billowed sails.
Two of PPM’s hits, “If I Had a Hammer” and “Blowing in the Wind” became the anthems for an entire generation that believed, perhaps too naively, in the power of popular music to lead a movement and effect change for the good.
Thank you for all the wonderful memories – RIP Mary Travers.
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