Tag Archives: bike riding

A Journey to Lexington Center

When an open Saturday with (relatively) low humidity and clear skies presented itself, I knew how I was going to spend my afternoon. I needed to finish what I started three weeks previously and bike all the way to Lexington Center.

So, I headed out from Winter Hill, stopping in Davis Square for a bottle of water and a smoothie at the Blue Shirt Cafe (the Peanut Butter Delight, to which I am addicted). I headed out, again making some stops along the way, including at my revered Spy Pond. When I zipped past my previous farthest point on the bike path, I cheered. I knew I was just 1.25 miles away from Lexington Center.

Now, I had heard that Lexington Center was really cool and had lots of good restaurants, but I didn’t know what exactly to expect. What I found was a thriving and busy little square that reminded me of a more spread out Coolidge Corner, with a hint of Arlington Center. Everyone was out since it was a gorgeous day.

My co-worker had recommended a sushi restaurant, and in wandering down Mass. Ave in search of it, I stumbled across the Battle Green, which sported several monuments and remembrances to the opening battle of the Revolutionary War. Yep, “The Shot Heard Round The World.” Even though I knew that Lexington is where that all happened, I guess I didn’t expect that the battle site would be that close to where I was.

I found myself held rapt by history. Even though it was history with which I was intimately familiar, it was humbling to stroll the (oddly empty) green and see the various monuments to the battle and the Minutemen who lost their lives, and for whom the bike path I rode is named. I noted with interest that a flag pole had been designated the official memorial to the Battle of Lexington, and I was awed by the memorial erected in 1799 to the Minutemen from Lexington who died in that opening battle. (“The Die was cast!!” the memorial excitedly declares in recapping the events of that April morning in 1775.) I also enjoyed learning about Prince Estabrook, the slave who was the first black soldier of the American Revolution.

As I strolled the Battle Green, I felt like I was out of town on vacation, and I was delighted to be a tourist agog in my own state. For me, the visit gave Patriot’s Day — which rolls around every April with an implicit joke that we need a day off to watch the Boston Marathon and see an early morning Sox game — a bit more heft and importance. It was not lost on me that I had come there from Winter Hill, which was a stop on Paul Revere’s ride to Lexington. The thought of retracing, however loosely, that bit of history pleased me.

After I finishing touring the Battle Green, I did indeed find that sushi restaurant, where I scarfed down a couple of delicious sushi rolls. I then headed back out on the path, pausing once more by Arlington’s Great Meadow. My next goal for the bike path is to bring a friend and wear appropriate clothes and bug spray for exploring some of the walking trails that jut off the path in the area of the meadow. Or perhaps I will make it a goal to reach the end of the bike path in Bedford. It’s just over three miles from Lexington Center, and I know I can do it, though I’ve heard that as a locale it is not that interesting, aside from the feeling of triumph at having completed the path. (I think I’ll spare myself the off-road informal extensions of the path past Bedford.)

For now, though, I am basking in my latest accomplishment, and appreciating the unexpected history lesson I received as a reward.

(Full photo set on Flickr)


16.25 Miles

I understand that for many bikers, this is nothing. This is every morning. This is a daily commute. This is a lunch break. But for me, it was a revelation.

Sunday, I set out to ride my bike for the four-mile round-trip to Davis Square and back, with the simple mission of returning library books. I was pleased by how much easier the usually arduous ride up Winter Hill since getting my upgrades at Open Bicycle. Then I decided, why not hit the bike path? It was an absolutely gorgeous afternoon. When I got to my usual destination of Spy Pond, I thought — why not keep going?

The one other time I tried to ride farther down the bike path ended badly, as I was wearing a backpack and my bike was not really ready for such a ride. This, however, was the farthest I’d stretched my bike out since it got fixed up. And I was pleasantly surprised by the results.

I was able to stash my messenger bag in the front basket. I took breaks for water and rest along the way. My goal was to make it to some indicator that I was in Lexington, which I achieved when I reached the Seasons Four garden shop. (When I checked GMap Pedometer later, I was dismayed to learn I was just 1.25 miles from Lexington Center.)

It also turns out that my stopping point was five miles from the end of the Minuteman Bikeway in Bedford. But keep in mind, round-trip from my house to Davis Square is a hair over four miles. So, in truth, I came just over five miles short of completing the Davis-to-Bedford circuit. That makes me happy.

I haven’t been on my bike much lately, but the relative ease with which I accomplished this ride has got me excited for the next nice day when I can (hopefully) tackle the whole route, tacking on the distance between my house and Davis Square. I can’t wait.

By the way, the above photo? Spotted along the path. Oh yeah. Hold onto that feeling.

A Non-Judgmental Bike Shop Comes to Somerville

When I emerged from the basement digs of Open Bicycle on Friday evening, the day’s grey and rain had dissipated, replaced by blue skies. I had a souped-up bike and a warm, fuzzy glow that had nothing to do with the recently reappeared sun. The only thing missing was a helmet, so I could have taken in the evening from the seat of my bike, zipping down the road back home.

susanxx-R1-052-24AI came late to bike riding. It wasn’t until 2005 (the same summer I learned to drive and, well, tried to learn how to swim) that I pursued bike-riding lessons. Luckily, a lovely woman in Somerville, Susan McLucas, specializes in adult bike-riding lessons. . (See picture at left of me during a bike-riding lesson.) I remember being astonished the first time I was on a bike, feet off the ground, and not falling over. In time, I was zipping down the bike path, riding between my house and Davis Square and enjoying the feeling of transportation independence — no bus schedules, no engine maintenance, just me and two wheels.

Those two wheels, however, were purchased somewhat ill-advisedly. I found a good deal on Craigslist of some guy looking to get rid of a bike, helmet and lock. The bike was in fine shape, but I bought it not knowing anything about different kinds of bikes, what kind I needed, what size was right for me.

Over the past couple of years, as I’ve ridden my bike around, I’ve always felt like I’ve been slower and more sluggish than other riders I see on the road, and I knew it wasn’t me. I figured there were probably some changes — whether simple adjustments or more comprehensive work — that could be made to my bike to make it more adaptable to my needs and my body. Failing that, it would probably be time to buy a new bike, this time in a proper manner.

I’ve been taking my bike to Paramount in Powderhouse (now Ball Square) as long as I’ve had it — in fact, I wheeled it over there directly after buying it — and I’ve never gotten anything but quality work done there. But this year, as I looked to give my bike its annual tune-up, I also felt it was time to confront all these existential questions I had about my bike. And, well, I didn’t feel like I could go to Paramount for that. The work’s always been good there, but I somehow felt like I wasn’t “bike-y” enough to be there. Like since I wasn’t some hardcore, calves-of-steel, all-season biker, I was a bit of a pretender. And I didn’t feel like having my ignorance thrown back at me or being subject to someone’s judgment. Maybe that wouldn’t have happened, but based on previous vibes, that was my fear.

I first saw flyers for Open Bicycle a few months ago, a few blocks from their Union Square location. Then I began to hear a bit of a buzz. And the buzz was… they’re nice. Some nice young men running a bicycle shop. Isn’t that lovely? And Yelp backed up the buzz. I did some more research and saw they were very into art and coffee and community. This seemed like it might be my kind of place.

So, two Saturdays ago, I rode to the Union Square Farmer’s Market and then brought my bike over to Open. They’re located on Washington Street, just two blocks from the Square, in a basement next to a beauty supply wholesaler. The exterior belies the funky little shop and gallery space they’ve created inside. Once inside, I talked to Zack and explained my situation. He and one of his co-workers examined my bike and talked through what might be causing it to feel so heavy and slow. Wrong fork. Knobby tires. The energy I put into it, they said, gets sucked right out by those things.

So, I left my faithful bike with these nice young men, to get a new basket and a tune-up on top of the other changes. To my shock, they told me they would have it ready on Wednesday. Wednesday. That’s just four days after drop-off.

Wednesday night, however, I was at the Freedy Johnston show, and Thursday brought downpours. So after work on Friday, I took the bus over to Open.

When they wheeled out my bike… it turns out they had installed a rack and not a basket. I had been afraid of this, actually. During our conversation on Saturday, I had asked for a rack, but one of the guys said a basket might be better for my needs, and I agreed. When I got the call on Wednesday that the bike was ready, there was still some lack of clarity about whether I wanted a rack or a basket, but eventually it was decided that I would pick out a basket when I got there for the pickup and they would install it while I wait.

When I saw the rack and no basket, I explained my Wednesday phone conversation. It seeemed like there had been a miscommunication between the guys at the shop. They told me they would take off the rack and install the basket.

With the new fork, however, getting the basket on proved to be a tricky proposition. They had to shave some metal and do other bike-magic things that ended up taking about an hour. I was slightly annoyed, but I also felt bad that a confusing conversation had given them all this unexpected work to do. Because even in just the hour, hour and a half that I was there — between 6 and 8PM on a Friday, mind you — a bunch of people came in: some picking up, some who had just gotten flats, some who had other problems. In just a few months, Open has built up quite a following for themselves.

When the work was finally done and Zack and I exchanged apologies, he rang me up. To my shock, for the trouble, they dropped all the labor charges off the whole bill. The final total for all of that work? $105. I had been quoted $160. I was floored, and impressed. While they could probably stand to come up with a better system for confirming orders, the service was still high quality, and they were more than willing to account for any problems that came up.

I told Zack why I’d come to Open: that I’d had all these bike questions I wanted to ask in a non-judgmental environment, and I had heard they were nice guys. He smiled and shook his head, lamenting that there seemed to be a lot of bike snobbery in the area. He said it didn’t make sense to judge people for not knowing everything about their bikes.

“If they did, they’d probably work in a bike shop,” Zack said.

“And wear a cool hat,” I said, referring to his short-billed bike cap. He laughed. “I don’t know if I’d say cool hat.”

Zack said that if I wanted a city that was the opposite, where bike-riders were not expected to be two-wheeled geniuses, I shold try Portland, Ore. I think I’ll pass. If Open Bicycle sticks around, I think Somerville will be good enough for me.