Posts Tagged rant
Bike races and “my tax dollars”
Whenever I read “my tax dollars” in a letter to the editor, I know immediately that the writer cares nothing about the common good. Such an attitude is completely contrary to the whole purpose of taxes. In a recent issue of the Virginia Gazette, someone angrily wrote in about how a bike race completely disrupted their life, pillaging their time and money:
Why are bike races allowed along Lightfoot and Fenton Mill roads? Bicyclists were running at a break-neck 25 mph in a 55 mph zone.
I was at this race last weekend: a lazy Saturday morning in the middle of nowhere couldn’t be a better time and place to have a bike race. It’s so unfortunate that the author was driving one of the three cars that travel those roads every day. The race was not a closed course, so I suppose the author/driver didn’t have the patience to quit speeding and drive carefully, especially with police around as escorts:
Who pays for those police cars? If the bicyclists pay for them, I hope there is a hefty fee to cover the gas and wear and tear on vehicles that my tax dollars bought.
The author of the above statement is living proof of why a police escort was needed in the first place. When I’ve been on the bike, I’ve been accosted countless times by people like this. Such a person sees the road as his or her personal space: all others must bow down before them. How dare cyclists use a road paid for with “my tax dollars.” It’s not like the cyclists don’t pay taxes, either. Indeed, the registration fee for the race probably included pay for the police, which is one of the reasons bike races and triathlons are so ridiculously expensive. Of course, the letter continues with the obligatory bike path comment:
Bicyclists cry for bike lanes then don’t use them, there’s a $50 million path to Richmond that they don’t use.
I’ve already visited on how “running at a break-neck 25 mph” on a bike path is extremely dangerous to pedestrians, but the author’s emphasis is less on safety and more towards the “$50 million.” In the end, the money arguments aren’t really about misuse of “my tax dollars,” but more about everyone else just being in the way. Can’t we all get along peacefully?
Running Shoes and Marketing Hype
Today, for the first time in years, I went to a brick and mortar running store and bought new shoes. Until this winter, I had been wearing the same make and model shoe for years. I wore the same shoe for most of my college running career and continued to wear it afterwards until I hurt my knee. Then, sometime after my knee surgery and before I started running again, the manufacturer discontinued the model.
I searched for a replacement, preferring to buy online since it’s easy to find the same shoe online for 30-40% less than in a brick and mortar store. From suggestions on Internet forums, I bought a similar shoe from an online retailer made by the same manufacturer. However, the new shoe felt like running in sandals compared to the discontinued model. It gave me no stability and very little cushioning in the forefoot.
Why do shoe companies insist on changing their shoe lineup every year? There isn’t a shoe model that either doesn’t get changed or discontinued on a yearly basis. The shoe that treated me well for so long was suddenly gone. I probably bought 15 or 20 pairs of that model, and what does the manufacturer do to reward me for my loyalty? They hang me out to dry.
There’s no functional reason to update, discontinue, or introduce new running shoes with such magnitude and frequency. Some research indicates people are better off without running shoes. However, shoes are generally made to accommodate a small handful of biomechanical differences in runners. With these differences identified, each manufacturer should make a shoe that successfully addresses these problems for most of the population and let things be. With the current cycle of drastic shoe changes, either running shoe technology is so terrible that the manufacturers are constantly scrambling to find shoes that work or human evolution is taking place at unprecedented levels.
Instead of producing something consistent and functional, shoe companies care more about generating marketing hype surrounding their products. They want consumers to crave the latest running shoe with its biodegradable materials, patented cushioning materials, and futuristic looks. I don’t care how many proprietary materials the shoe is made out of or what the shoe looks like, I only want it to keep me from getting injured. Every shoe I’ve ever bought goes from mostly white to a dirty, muddy mess in a matter of days, but as long as it keeps me in one piece, that’s all that really matters.
The constant shoe updates also force me to buy from a regular retail store since I have to try on several pairs to find a new one that works. Sizing changes from model to model, so I’m wary of buying a new pair without first trying it on. Retail stores mark up prices as much as 100% of what they paid the manufacturer, so it’s easy to find an online retailer who charges far less than the suggested retail price. Going to the store today, I’ve found that what was the $80 shoe five years ago is now the $100 shoe. Some shoes are nearly $200. All of them wear out in 300-400 miles, so what exactly is it that warrants the extra cost?
Running shoes shouldn’t be any different than a household appliance. Shoes should be something that do their job faithfully and can be replaced at the end of their lifespan with a model that performs exactly the same way.
Quotes of the week v.2
Here’s some more stuff that piqued my interest over the past week. While I find most comments on the internet to be extremely immature, the Slashdot moderation system really makes the good comments float to the top, producing a lot of good insight. I have to say that whoever came up with the Slashdot moderation system had a real stroke of genius.
Executive Compensation
Slashdot recently covered a story of a Sun employee commenting on the golden parachutes received by executives as their failing company was acquired by Oracle. Debates ensued in the story comments as to whether or not greed and apathy drives executives to place little effort into keeping their businesses afloat, completely disregarding the interests of employees and even shareholders. It reminds me of this Ambrose Bierce quote which I remember being narrated by Leonard Nimoy in Civilization IV:
Corporation, n. An ingenious device for obtaining individual profit without individual responsibility.
One of the commenters of the story gave a blunt analogy:
To make it easier to understand and to make a more basic explanation, let’s replace “money” with “food”. Let’s say that the executive in charge of Sun has a machine that makes food for thousands of people. He runs the machine so poorly that it breaks down, and thousands of people no longer have access to the food it provides. In the process of breaking the machine, he manages to engineer it so that the very last time he runs the machine, it makes enough food to feed him, his family and his friends’ families for a couple hundred years if they manage the food he created properly.
It sure seems that executives certainly have the opportunity to obtain massive individual profit with little responsibility. Hopefully, for each story like this, there are hundreds of executives that run their companies well and think about their employees when making decisions.
Show me your papers…
In another Slashdot story, users commented on the heavy-handedness of Verizon blocking internet access to a popular website. Verizon alleged that a denial of service attack originated from the domain of the blocked site, which prompted comments that such attacks could be construed as terrorism and must be thwarted by corporations and governments. While I can’t really argue against the actions of Verizon or governmental involvement in stopping DDoS attacks, one commenter posted the following in response to increased governmental involvement on the internet:
When I was a kid it was popular to point to various things in the USSR like the inability to travel freely without “showing your papers” as evidence of totalitarian oppression. Here in 2010 “showing your papers” is as American as apple pie!
Oddly, I agree with the concept of this statement but not necessarily in the context of the internet. Air travel comes readily to mind. Nothing screams “show me your papers” more than flying. International travel is even worse, with arriving travelers powerless to stop searches of their computers and other electronic devices. What was once fun is now excruciating now that I’ve got to remove my shoes, take half of my stuff out of suitcases and into plastic bins, shuffle through metal detectors, and fumble for my ticket and ID. It really dampens my enthusiasm about going to Sweden in April.
Lowering the bar in Virginia schools
Virginia legislators have been desperate to get more Virginians into their public universities, even at the expense of revenue and quality of the student body. In the article, one legislator commented that he knew of several students with 4.0 GPAs that were denied entry to Virginia public universities. Well, when you loosen the grading scales in primary and secondary schools, there are going to be more students with higher GPAs.
I find it amusing that at one end, Virginia Beach students are whining that the grading scales are too strict and prevent them from gaining admittance to college. At the other end are complaints that too many 4.0 students are not admitted to Virginia colleges. Instead of high school students working harder to get into school or doing something that sets themselves apart from other 4.0 students, the prevailing wisdom is to just lower the bar. Fortunately, it appears as though the attempts to force 75 percent in-state enrollment is halted for now.
Those condescending liberals…
A piece written by a UVA politics professor argues that liberals are much more condescending than their conservative counterparts:
American liberals, to a degree far surpassing conservatives, appear committed to the proposition that their views are correct, self-evident, and based on fact and reason, while conservative positions are not just wrong but illegitimate, ideological and unworthy of serious consideration.
From postings on the internet, musings from friends, and from stuff I’ve heard around my college campus, I agree that liberals seem to be increasingly intolerant of any dissenting opinions. Everyone just drinks the Kool-Aid and can’t reason independently of news columnists or political party leaders. Nobody tries to understand all sides of an argument and understand the reasoning of the opposition.
Another citation from the Grammar Police
Here is a link to another blatantly obvious error that should have been caught. Work with spelling errors really comes off as sloppy and greatly hurts the credibility of the piece. If the author wasn’t able to catch this, how am I to know that the information presented isn’t erroneous either? At least this time the author gave credit to his sources.
Infographics: How reliable are they?
With the social media flood comes a torrent of infographics, most of which focus on presentation instead of information. It reminds me of the “mediaglyphics” in yet another Neal Stephenson novel: The Diamond Age. In the futuristic novel, mediaglyphics are used by corrupt governments and broadcast media to inform and entertain a mostly illiterate population. Infographics aren’t much different: they blast the reader with colorful line graphs, maps, and pie charts to present an implicit and oversimplified argument.
I’ve found many of these infographics to be packed with spelling and grammatical errors. For example, try to find the error in this visualization of U.S. debt holders. With enormous font sizes and few words, any spelling or grammatical error really stands out. Such easily identifiable problems make me question the integrity of the statistics (and implicit arguments) these infographics present. Where did the data come from and how reliable are the sources? Many infographics do not provide references, so how am I to know that it isn’t just some ten year old kid making this stuff up? What if multiple sources produce conflicting results? In such cases, it’s almost guaranteed that the infographic creator just picked the result/data that best furthered his or her argument. Lastly, what information is not presented? When reading an infographic, I always wonder if I am seeing the whole picture. With so little information actually presented, I have no doubt that most of these infographics leave out plenty, especially stuff that hurts the creator’s argument.
I admit that infographics pique my interest in a subject to which I haven’t given much thought. However, with minimal content and questionable integrity, they may be no more than chartjunk.
Road Races: Less Passion, More Money
Last weekend, my girlfriend ran the Rock N’ Roll half marathon at the oceanfront despite admitting that she barely trained for it in recent months. Afterwards, it was as if she could barely walk. “Why run it?”, I asked. Apparently, she paid $90 for the entrance fee and decided that the money to go to waste. So, what happened here? Why did someone force herself into doing something that she clearly would not if the cost was less? Increasingly, races are organized to make money, not to provide competition and/or enjoyment among the participants. It appears to be part of a larger trend to care less about making a difference and to care more about the bottom line. It isn’t about doing what you love, it’s about doing anything you can to get some green. When the dollar signs loom larger than passion, you get unprepared runners suffering through 13 miles to recoup their costs.
Years ago, the biggest road race in the area was the Shamrock marathon and 8k with a modest entry fee. The turnout was smaller, but the fastest finishing times were still comparable to today. Recently, the local running club handed over control of the Shamrock to a for-profit company. Volunteers were replaced by paid staff. Prize money for elite finishers was increased. What was a well organized regional race was turned into a full blown production with all the frills. Consequently, entry fees skyrocketed. The hype induced a similar increase in turnout. However, the fastest finishing times also only showed marginal improvement.
What does the average runner stand to gain by paying $90 for a race? As bad as $90 sounds, it was only the registration fee several months in advance of the race; the fee increased to $110 three months before. So, does that $90 get you better competition? At a smaller (and probably cheaper) race, there may be fewer runners, but the average half marathon runner will still find plenty of people to try and chase down. Is the $90 worth the dry-fit t-shirt or extra junk that comes in the race packet? Maybe the finishing medal is better. Or, maybe the experience is somehow intrinsically better just because the race was expensive. Clearly, the average runner stands little to gain by running in a large scale production-style road race orchestrated by a for-profit company rather than running in a local road race staffed by volunteers. Somehow, people still pay anyway and all the backhanded marketing hype draws them in record numbers like mosquitoes to a bug zapper.
The increased registration fees only really benefit two groups: the elite runners, and of course, the organizers. With increased entry fees at large races, elite runners are often provided with free travel and hotel rooms. Naturally, they don’t have to pay an entry fee while the increased costs to all other participants provide a larger pile of prize money to the elites. That $90 provided by 20,000 participants also does well in providing the organizers with a nice chunk of change. Those who were once volunteers and provided a great service to the community are now ransacking their fellow runners’ wallets for every last dollar.
It’s bad enough that the registration fee is so high for many of these races. It’s even worse that these high profile races don’t even allow registration transfers in case of injury, lack of training, or sudden employer-mandated travel plans. As a result, some strange things happen as people struggle to cope with a significant monetary loss. Some will trade numbers under the table, throwing off the results when a supposed 55 year old blows away the masters division with a near record time. Others who didn’t prepare or who suffered an injury may force themselves out on the course and punish themselves because they want to get their money’s worth. Others still may decide not to run altogether, leaving several thousand non-starts that could have been filled with ready participants.
I could never justify the cost of such a race, even after I had recently exhausted my college eligibility and was looking for races to run. I had considered slapping down a few massive entrance fees to run a few half marathons or marathons. Before I got that far, my knee gave out. It just isn’t worth it to fork over the $90+ for a race several months in advance that I might not be able to run because of injury. To me, it’s not the hype or the junk that comes in the race packet. It really isn’t even about the competition anymore. If my knee were to withstand a race, I would do it only for enjoyment and I don’t think I need to pay $90 to get that. Even if I had to pay for all of my college races, I don’t know if I could justify the cost if I had to pay extortionist entry fees at each one. I can get much more than $90 worth of enjoyment just by running on my own.
When I ran competitively, I only paid for a handful of races, most of them when I was unattached in college. I think I paid $15 for a cross country invitational at UVA, another $15 to run a 3k at George Mason, and about $50 to run the 5k at Penn Relays. That $50 at Penn Relays got me in a race with plenty of competition, including Alan Webb, who ran 13:30. I ran about a minute slower, just barely getting lapped by him at the end, but it was him and the other runners that helped me drag myself around the track towards the end. In that case, the extra costs of the entrance fee and travel may have been worthwhile, but such cases are outliers. Today, I’m no different than the average recreational runner and I don’t have to pay $50 – $75 more and travel hundreds of miles to race when similar competition could be found right where I live. That is, if it’s competition I want.
I consider myself very fortunate to have crossed paths with people who found that satisfaction didn’t always come from making money. I had high school and college coaches that gave most of their time to me despite earning little or no money. I ran plenty of local road races staffed by volunteers who came just because they loved to be there. It was this passion that came from people like these that helped me go a long way with my running career. Ironically, it was from the same people that I realized I could never run professionally. Like someone who forks over $90 for a race, there would be too much external pressure from a sponsor to run through injuries, train harder than I felt comfortable, and to turn a daily release into a daily grind. Money and love don’t always mix.
It appears as though things that were once steeped in intrinsic value are falling to the marketers. Road racing is only one example. Even coaching for these expensive races is now being offered at an equivalently steep price. Those who once freely gave their time and effort are now turning their passions into profit, raking fellow enthusiasts over the coals. Those who may have run for pure enjoyment are now forking over cash to attend pre-race expos, get race packets stuffed with “free samples”, and get hyped with bands blasting music along the race course. It’s one less thing that’s done because it’s fun. It’s one more thing done only for the money.
To Michael X of XXX Towing:
It isn’t my fault that your life sucks, so don’t take it out on me.
Today marks the third time in two months that you have nearly run me off Rochambeau Drive with your tow truck. I don’t appreciate it: as a cyclist I am permitted to use the travel lanes in the same way as you. You are someone who makes a living through driving, yet your level of professionalism on the road is abysmal. While the law may look the other way when killing cyclists in your hometown of Virginia Beach, I doubt a second killing will go unpunished.
I hope you show a little more respect the next time we meet.
Rome Trip: Lightning Strikes Twice
As I sit here back at home writing this, a lone book sits high on the bookshelf, looming over me: “What Are the Odds,” by Mike Orkin. An apt title for the past five days, which were probably the longest five days I’ve had in quite awhile. What are the odds that I would get screwed on the way over and on the way back from Rome? The odds were pretty good.
The mess with the delayed flight from Norfolk keeping me home for two days was frustrating, but at least I was at home and not stuck in Philadelphia. At least on the second attempt I made it without any problems. After three days of walking and my SECON presentation, I was tired and jet lagged and ready to go home. I knew that on my trip back that anything could happen. I’ve had enough experiences with cancellations, delays, and lost bags to know that with each flight I was rolling the dice. On this trip, my number came up twice.
I got up at 6:30 AM Rome time, or 12:30 AM in Virginia. The train station was right across the street from the hotel, but it took almost 15 minutes of walking to get to where the train was. There were 30 platforms, some of which were behind others, so it was quite the walk with my suitcase out to the train. Fortunately, my dad and I bought tickets before we left at a machine so I didn’t have to waste time figuring out how to get a ticket. One wheel of my suitcase started to come apart and made quite the racket as I dragged it around everywhere.
The train left on time and got to the airport on time. I entered the airport terminal the same way we left and assumed that the ticket counter would be just inside. A sign said there were concourses A, B, and C. My dad and I arrived at C, and it appeared as though I would leave the same way. A monitor said the flight was on time.
I tried to find the ticket counter. There was a whole sea of them just inside from where the train dumped me out. A directory listed all the airlines and where the ticket counters were. It said US Airways: counter 511. But, the ticket counters in the terminal only went from 200 to 400. Where was 511? Looking around in disbelief, a small, out of the way sign said US Airways ticket counters were in “Terminal 5″. Terminal 5? How did that line up with concourses A, B, or C? More importantly, how does one get there? Another small poorly placed sign announced that a bus outside would go to Terminal 5. I went outside and found the sign for the bus and waited. As I waited a crowd began to form by the sign. It got bigger and bigger and the bus wasn’t coming.
Finally, the bus came and we packed in. Half the line got left outside. The bus wound its way all over the airport for ten minutes before arriving at the secret Terminal 5. Since I had web check-in and printed my boarding pass at the conference, I didn’t need to stand in line. I got my passport checked off and was put back on another bus to the terminal I started at.
When I got to the gate there wasn’t much going on but soon all the seats were packed and a large Italian family sat next to me and had a loud and heated conversation. Some of them hovered over me as they conversed loudly. Either the concept of personal space is nonexistent to them or they were trying to get me to leave by being obnoxious. It was probably a bit of both: I got up and found another seat next to an American couple who complained about the only coffee in the place was a bar that served only espresso shots. They really wanted their brewed coffee. I didn’t blame them.
The flight back to Philadelphia left on time and arrived on time. I had a window seat, but there wasn’t much to look at but clouds and bits of the ocean beneath. We crossed over the Alps and parts of France, but the clouds covered most of that too. Most of the transatlantic trips I’ve taken had the ocean blanketed by clouds. I’m not sure why this is.
The flight was nine hours, the longest I’d ever taken, but my sister took one that was something like 16 or 18 when she went to China. Nine was uncomfortable enough. I watched a movie, read several hundred pages of a book, and went to sleep. Everything cramped up. Fortunately, the flight attendants came by frequently with drinks.
Since I was near the front of the coach section and had carried on all my bags, it was easy to get off the plane and get through passport control and customs. I was through all that within 10 minutes, and fortunately customs did not ransack my computer looking for contraband. I would have had quite the fit if they decided to do that. I’m hoping these warrantless searches go to court soon.
I arrived in terminal A-West in Philadelphia, and the Norfolk flight left from at the far end of terminal F. My dad says this is about a two mile walk. There is a shuttle bus, but since I had been on the plane for nine hours and hadn’t run or biked in four days, I wanted the exercise. I had to go back through security again at F, but it wasn’t too bad. I had plenty of time: I got through customs at 3:30 Eastern time and my plane to Norfolk didn’t leave until 5.
Then the problems started. At the gate for the Norfolk flight, it was announced that the plane would leave 30 minutes late. A whole pile of people at the gate had missed earlier Norfolk flights and would be standing by for this one. Fortunately, I had a seat assignment.
5:30 came and went and the plane never arrived at the gate and the agent disappeared. Some pilots in uniform came to the gate who were commuting home and whined about the lack of agents. With no plane and no agent, 6:00 came and went. Then, another passenger for my flight who walked down the hall to the departures monitor said the flight was cancelled. Panic ensued.
Getting hold of my parents, I was able to learn the reservations number from the Internet. Apparently the plane got stuck in New York due to weather and they just decided to drop the rest of its flights. I asked the agent about other flights. No flights had seats through Norfolk until 3 PM the next day. No flights had seats through Newport News until the next morning. Despite complaining about my outbound screwup, the reservation agent said I would not be compensated for a hotel room due to weather. The agent booked me on the early morning Newport News flight and I thought about going to one of those Special Services desks and complaining until they gave me a hotel for free.
I talked to my parents again and again, using the power of the Internet, learned that I could get to Richmond. Surprisingly, my mom said if I could get to Richmond, she would drive the two hours to get me. There was a plane that left at 6:25. If I hurried, I might make it. Unlike the Norfolk flight, this flight was a mainline flight and left from C concourse and I was in F. I raced to the shuttle bus and got on the bus which happened to be just about to leave.
As I was on the bus, my phone rang: my adviser. Thinking I was back home, he told me that the session chair said I had made it to the presentation and that it went well. This was the worst time to be discussing this: I told him I was about to be stuck in Philadelphia. He couldn’t believe it. We talked some more about what a mess the travel was and then hung up and got off the bus.
I raced through the terminal and crashed into the check in desk at the gate for the Richmond flight. The plane was there. Two agents were there, one of whom told me to slow down as I mashed into the desk and my bags fell on the floor. I told them my story about the canceled flight and my rebooking and asked if I could get on the plane to Richmond. After a minute of typing, I got a new boarding pass and got on the plane.
The plane closed its door early and we pushed back before 6:25. We got away from the terminal and stopped. Out the window, the taxiways looked like a parking lot of airplanes. They were everywhere. The pilot got on the PA and said weather was preventing takeoffs to the north, but we were going to leave to the south. The problem was that all the northbound planes were in the way and couldn’t move. He sounded less than optimistic about getting out of there anytime soon.
We waited and waited some more. A girl got up to use the bathroom. When she came out, the whole plane smelled of cigarette smoke. A flight attendant came by and asked if she had been smoking, of course she denied doing so. A guy behind me said he was on a flight where someone next to him smoked in his seat and when the plane landed, the smoker was arrested.
7:00 PM came and went and we sat there, looking at the gridlock. A few planes took off. My legs were hurting from all the sitting. I called home and my dad couldn’t believe I was still sitting on the taxiway. My mom had already left for Richmond.
As we sat there and whined about the delay, I learned the guys across from me were also refugees from the Norfolk flight. They had missed an earlier Norfolk flight and were going to stand by for mine until it was cancelled. Like me, they had called someone to come and pick them up in Richmond and drive them back to Virginia Beach.
7:45 passed by and we had moved across a runway but were still stuck with planes in front of us. The captain came on again and said the control tower had slowed down departures to one plane per 20 miles. I hadn’t seen anything take off in almost an hour. It was starting to rain. If a storm came over the airport, that would be the end. We would go back to the gate and hundreds of people would be spending the night in the airport, myself included.
Finally, by 8 PM, planes started taking off again at regular intervals, but the captain told us we were way back in line and it would still be another 25 minutes. Unbelievably, my mom had already arrived at the airport in Richmond and was waiting in the terminal. By 8:50 and after two hours of waiting, we were in the air. Fortunately, it was a short flight and we were in Richmond by 9:30. As we were deplaning, one of the other guys from the Norfolk flight said he was going to flip if his bags didn’t make the plane. Good luck.
My mom met me in the Richmond terminal and it was a quick drive back with no traffic jams. Finally, after midnight and nearly 24 hours of traveling, I was back home. I slept like a rock and it felt great to get out on the bike this morning.
Perhaps I should write letters to US Airways and the DOT. What this will accomplish, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get a small voucher to use for my next trip, which will stay well clear of Philadelphia. There had better be direct flights to Boston when I go to WASA. I took one when I went to IC4As in 2007, but it might be different now. It seems that the solutions to these travel nightmares may be mitigated by:
- Re-introducing more mainline flights. Apparently, regional jets are more prone to maintenance issues and do not handle weather as easily.
- Add more capacity. With every flight oversold, one cancellation creates a huge cascade of stuck travelers that cannot be rebooked onto the next flight. Adding more mainline flights will help this.
- Add more point to point flights or stagger departures and arrivals at hub airports. It seems that planes leave or arrive at a hub simultaneously, leading to huge traffic delays. Southwest has a good model to follow for this one.
- Reduce capacity through hub airports that are prone to weather delays. It seems that if someone so much as spits in Philadelphia, the whole place shuts down.
- Provide better customer service to help stranded travelers. I only found out the plane was canceled when another passenger told me. With no agent at the gate, the only option was to call the reservation office. Airlines should guarantee that a passenger will arrive at his or her destination within some fixed, reasonable time period or else provide a full refund.
Fortunately, I have time to recover from this before my next plane trip in August. If my next paper gets in to RTSS, I’ll only have to go to Washington. Maybe in the meantime, I’ll actually be able to get back to doing research since the last couple weeks have been spent mostly dealing with this trip.
Are you gonna repave that?
Last week I was heading out on one of my usual cycling routes only to find the pavement end abruptly with a greeting of “Loose Gravel” from an orange sign. The road past Richardson Millpond was gravelized, with pavement replaced by sticky wet rocks which trashed my bike. It was impassible on a road bike, so I turned around and haven’t gone back there since. I hope VDOT is just repaving that section, but now I’m not so sure.
Is the deterioration of our nation’s road system yet another hole in the dike of government failures? Michigan’s transportation department is now giving up on road maintenance and turning many of its rural roads into gravel. Is this happening in Virginia? It sure seems like it.
A road over the dam on Jolly Pond was closed by VDOT since it decided the repairs were too costly. A few weeks ago following a storm, another cycling route of mine was blocked with orange barriers for several days because downed trees were not removed quickly enough. The ancient bridge over the Chickahominy on Route 5 was often closed until it was finally replaced late last year (it was a 60 mile detour).
There are plenty of rural roads in the counties surrounding Williamsburg that are in desperate need of repaving. Occasionally, a road crew will come out and put down a patch, which often crumbles faster than the older pavement around it and only makes things worse. There are bike lanes that I cannot ride in because the potholes are so bad. Most of these rural roads are probably going on decades since they were last paved, which was probably also the first time they were paved. Ironically, some of the worst sections (including the new gravelized section) are only within a few miles of a VDOT maintenance station in Croaker. All the people and tools required to fix the crumbling roads are at hand, but it took them well over a year just to fix a giant lane-consuming pothole right at the station’s entrance. I would go into the oncoming lane just to avoid it.
Supposedly, Virginia is getting $810 million in stimulus funds for transportation improvements, and it is also the last to request such funds. While I don’t really agree that dumping money on everything is the best answer to aid a struggling economy, the roads in this state could really use some help. The state had better put it to use wisely and start repaving before another Grand Canyon consumes a car on I-64.
Go back to New Jersey
You are not wanted here.
Every time I go somewhere on the bike I haven’t been for awhile, a vast swath of forest has been chopped down to make way for yet another neighborhood. The frequency at which these neighborhoods pop up way out in the middle of nowhere reminds me of Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash, where he speaks about the insane pace of new development:
“[Neighborhoods] all have the same layout. When creating a new Burbclave, TMAWH Development Corporation will chop down any mountain ranges and divert the course of any mighty rivers that threaten to interrupt this street plan — ergonomically designed to encourage driving safety. A Deliverator can go into a Mews at Windsor Heights anywhere from Fairbanks to Yaroslavl to the Shenzhen special economic zone and find his way around.”
What does this mean? It means that people will come to fill these new houses, regardless of current financial issues. As long as developers keep building, the people will keep coming. The population of James City County has tripled in size in the past 30 years. Places that were once lonely two lane roads have been widened to four lanes with 15 traffic lights within a one mile stretch. It is clear that the urban planners around here graduated at the bottom of their class. From here, it will only get worse, with more large tracts of farmland rezoned as commercial, ready for the razing. The locals are up in arms, but like most municipalities, the ones here turn a blind eye to the natives and only see tax revenue from more people and businesses.
The people are coming. Where do they come from? Certainly the current residents don’t just shuffle around to the new houses, and there aren’t that many foreign immigrants. Instead, the new residents are pouring in from the Northeast. In Colonial Williamsburg, nearly every car is fixed with a New Jersey, New York, or Pennsylvania license plate. They come here as tourists. They come here as students. They get a taste and then they move here. They move here and they bring their jackass Northeast attitudes with them.
Those who have lived in Williamsburg most of their lives are decent people. They drive older, well maintained cars and give me plenty of room out on the backroads. The Northeast transplants infect this place like a plague, driving hulking Suburbans and dragging around trailers with 30 foot boats. Accelerating from a light last week, one came up on me with the side mirror just inches from my face. With an extra wide, monolithic boat in tow, I knew I would be a red smear on the boat if the guy continued to pass me. After giving him a hard look through the window and screaming at him to get into the passing lane, I narrowly averted disaster. Today I was nearly creamed again by a minivan that was close enough where I could reach through the window and shake some sense into the passenger in the front seat. Later on, out in the middle of nowhere with no other cars around, some guy in one of those massive luxury pickups laid on the horn and tried to get me to move into the dirt. There was nobody out there but me and the truck, with the road nearly three lanes wide, yet these people have to prove they are better than me since they are driving a car. My old teammate, Adam, was run off the road last week by yet another jerk. He crashed and is in a sling for two weeks. Despite gobs of other cyclists out, those who come here from the nasty Northeast just don’t care.
I remember my first experience with this attitude when I stayed with one of my teammates in Rhode Island for a race in Boston. We were out running on the sidewalk near his house on the day before the meet. We got to an intersection and started to cross when someone made a turn right into us. We were paint on the car. After yelling at the guy, my teammate told me not to do that, since “they’ll pull a gun on you up here.”
These Northeast transplants are why Virginia Beach is so bad for cyclists. Everyone that lives there is not from the area; they are in the military or were in the military and they all come from the places that start with “new.” New Jersey. New York. New England. They really need a “new” attitude, especially as they start to move to once quiet places like Williamsburg.
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