The city of Washington, DC, finally launched its long-heralded bike-sharing program. It proved to be a smash hit, and plans are afoot to expand it. Within days, an attempt was made to steal one of the bikes from its very public parking place. You didn’t expect that, did you? The bike was fatally damaged, but unstolen. So there, you bad person!

From sunny Racine, Wisconsin, our favorite resort town on the slate-gray shores of Lake Michigan, comes news of a new outlet for the competitive urges of devotés (and devotées—let’s not be sexist) of the derailleur: the Tour de Racine. This is long overdue. Racine is, after all, a French name. Whether it respectfully evokes the renowned writer of that name, or is an arch reference to the river that runs through it (viz., the Root River), or both, I do not know for sure. Perhaps the devoted reader does.* Who won, you ask? Some guy from Winnipeg. Winnipeg! The one in Manitoba, presumably. Did he travel all that way just for the Tour? (Tour? Actually, a dizzying number of laps around a 0.78-mile stretch of downtown Racine.) Or did he just happen to be in town? Do I care enough to research it? No.

Speaking of Canada, good news from Toronto: the bicycle thief is caught. Not just any bicycle thief (like the sad sacks in De Sica’s movie). No, this guy stole around 2,800 bikes. He was a Bicycle Thief. And not just. This guy, Igor Krenk, “was something of an informal social worker, … giving work to street people and outpatients from a nearby mental health institution. Of course, the police say some of that work involved stealing bicycles.” The funny thing is, for a long time Torontoans strongly suspected what was going on—some of the victims of bike thievery would actually buy their bikes back from him. (Did I mention he ran a bike shop?) The cops needed to catch him red-handed, apparently, so they set up a sting. And lookee here: he’s Slovenian! What an intrepid race! What an impressive bike-stealing record! Here’s a more personal take on the whole biking vibe up in Toronto, and I provide this link only to show what a handsome Slovenian dude Igor Krenk is when he’s cleaned up a little.

On a personal note, I finally did what was necessary to bring my Trek 750 out of mothballs (or, more precisely, the road dust and cobwebs of garage level three at my location d’emploi): new cassette, new crankset, new chain, new rear wheel, new brake pads, and, in an unexpected development, a new shifter cable. It’s good to be back on the good old Trek, and it always feels good to have done the work yourself. As usual, I picked up a new tool or two along the way. And I’ve become a chain fanatic, or chain evangelist, or whatever. Chain obsessed. That new chain-wear tool will see a lot of use. Sick of buying drivetrain components.

I read that some employers are taking baby steps toward incentives for bicycle commuters. That’s all—not much to this yet. I know I ain’t getting anything from anyone for biking to work.

Finally, and sadly, a bicyclist was killed this summer in the Dupont Circle neighborhood of Washington. A trash truck traveling westbound on R Street turned right onto 20th and nailed a young woman who was biking to work at the Middle East Institute. The DC police have yet to release a final report. The Washington Area Bicyclist Association placed a ghost bike at the site of the accident and is staying on top of it. She may have made a fatal mistake, or it may have been the driver, or both. But it goes without saying we need to make the streets safer for bikes.
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*Wikipedia says the latter (sans the “arch” part), but begs the question: What was the Root River named after? Is that what “chippecotton” means? Or “kipikawi”? Or “ot-chee-beek”? Or was there some white man named Root who named it? More questions than answers, as usual. [back]

You will recall how Martin Strel last year added the Amazon to the list of long rivers whose entire length he has swam.

Now we hear that Jure Robič has won the Race Across America for an unprecedented fourth time (in the solo category).

In the words of the race sponsors:

[T]he Race Across America (RAAM) [is] the world’s premiere ultra-endurance cycling event. This 3,000 mile bicycle race started from Oceanside [California] and stretches through 15 states, across the Rockies, through the heartland of America and the Appalachians, and finishes in Annapolis, Maryland. RAAM pits competitors against each other, the ever challenging and changing American landscape, and themselves.

The major difference between RAAM and other bicycle races like Le Tour de France is that RAAM is a continuous, one-stage event, meaning that the clock starts on the west coast and doesn’t stop until the racers reach the east coast. Simply put: RAAM is the toughest bicycle race on earth.

Čestitam, Jure!

The Danube. The Mississippi. The Yangtze. And now, the Amazon. Never mind the piranha and the candirú.

It’s the Slovenian red wine that keeps him going—he laughs when he says it, but he drinks it as he floats on his back down whatever river he happens to be in.

He set out on February 1, and you can follow his progress online. Like all modern nutcases, he has a personal website.

His motto: “Plavam za mir, prijateljstvo in čiste vode” — “I swim for peace, friendship, and clean water.” Nothing crazy about that.

This second-best klobasa recently made the news when an astronaut took some up to the International Space Station* (along with some Euclid Beach popcorn balls—but that’s a whole ‘nother story, involving my dad’s side of the family). It turns out the astronaut’s mother is Slovenian, and not just—her maiden name is the same as my mom’s.

Anyway, I knew at the time I was being flip and a little lazy about the food question. I should’ve mentioned my mother-in-law’s soup with manti (little meat dumplings). And the list of four couldn’t accommodate the dishes concocted by my dear wife—for instance, the fennel pasta, the potato and leek soup, the “Ursy caserole,” the pizza rustica (a double-crusted “pie” in the traditional sense), her variation of Ming Tsai‘s fried rice ….

Makes you wonder how often I’m flip and lazy, doesn’t it? Well, keep wondering. (Or not.)
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*Correction (2007.01.15): Upon further review, the delicacy carted up to the space station was a package of Azman’s “smokies,” not the traditional (in my view, anyway) Slovenian sausage (which could not, by any stretch, be characterized as “thin”). Also, why give all the publicity to Azman’s? Some folks get their klobasa from Radell’s.