With a long day ahead and few lunch choices near the airport, I made a sandwich detour. The woman behind the counter saw the cycling garb and asked where I had started and where I was headed. She was shocked, thinking it impossible or impractical to ride 16 miles to work in the morning and 16 miles home in the evening. I offered that I hadn't jumped into riding that sort of mileage, I eased into it. She claimed she could never ride a bike that far and I reminded her that each of us is capable of more than we realize.
Reaching the end of the 2013 and having completed my 56th lap around the sun, I find myself above my goal of 4500 cycling miles for the year. I've upped that goal to 6000 miles and with just under 5600 miles and a few weeks left to log the remaining 400 miles, I stopped to consider how far I'd come. With age comes wisdom and as I've grown older, my focus has shifted from my own needs to helping others. That sandwich shop chat got me thinking about what to suggest to readers who might want to undertake a bicycle commute, reduce their dependence on fossil fuel, shed some weight, improve their health, and generally feel more energetic about life.
1) Start Incrementally
First a disclaimer: Verify you are healthy enough to begin cycling by checking with your doctor or by getting a physical examination.
My commute routine started with a mile or so of cycling to BART, riding the train to a station near work, and cycling the remaining five miles. 12 miles round trip was tiring at first, so I'd alternate one day riding, one day driving. Often the train home was delayed and it began to dawn on me: If I could work up to cycling the whole way, I'd get home sooner. Occasionally I'd ride the whole way home. Then I began cycling to and from work and before I knew it, I had mostly abandoned BART. The key was starting with an intermodal solution and then gradually increasing my mileage. Try to do too much, too soon and you may give up before you've established the all important exercise habit pattern.
2) Find a Route
Most people say the number one reason they don't consider bicycling is the lack of separation from motor vehicles. Bike lanes, sharrows, and green lanes are great, but they don't guarantee protection from a collision with a car or truck. Mapping software like Google Maps or the interactive New York Times bike maps can help you discover a good route. Don't put your faith in any suggested route until you've verified it yourself. You may find that designated bike routes are actually less suitable than a routing you find yourself.
3) Form Good Habits
Exercising every day is a good way to ensure success, but realize that it can take as long as two or three months to work out the logistics and for the cycling habit to become engrained. Once you've established a pattern and worked out the kinks, driving to work will seem less and less appealing. If you have to spend time getting to work, why not spend some or all of that time doing something that will make you feel better?
What about arriving at work all sweaty? A lot depends on your circumstances, but with some planning and ingenuity those issues can be worked out. I carry two panniers: One is my flight bag containing my iPad mini, headset, and various supplies. The second pannier holds a change of clothes, a sweater, and my lunch. I use panniers because I don't like carrying things on my back while riding, but these solutions are individual in nature. Experiment and find what works for you.
4) Measure Your Progress
Regardless of your goal (sleep more, eat less, exercise more), you're more likely to succeed if you have a way to measuring your progress. I find the MapMyFitness iPhone app useful for tracking my weekly mileage and time spent riding. There are other apps and they all seem to have historical measurement and graphing tools. If, for example, you see your mileage increasing by more than one standard deviation, you're probably increasing your workouts too quickly.
5) Set Achievable Goals
Nothing will scuttle you faster than setting an overly ambitious goal. Better to set a less aggressive goal that you can meet or exceed. In my own case, I set a goal of riding 4500 miles for this year even though I suspected I could do more. When I met my goal early, I adjusted it upward. Time will tell if I make the 6000 mile mark, but I'll have fun in the process.
6) Pace Yourself
Once your exercise habit pattern is established, avoid being too aggressive with your routine. Americans live in an increasingly competitive, some might say militaristic, society. Don't fall victim to the mentality of "If a little exercise is good, then more must be better." Unless you're a comic book hero, over-training will lead to burn-out, injury, illness or just a bone-tired feeling that you can't shake. The flip side of exercise is rest: We all need rest. If you have entered your fourth decade or beyond on planet Earth, you're aware that you don't recover from injury as quickly as you used to. So be wise and avoid getting injured in the first place.
7) Expect the Unexpected
Regardless of your well-laid plans, illness, injury, saddle sores, over-training, and countless obstacles crop up for cycle commuters. If you've set a reasonable goal, you shouldn't have any trouble taking a few days off when you don't feel right or if you need time to heal.
You'll also need to be prepared for unexpected bike maintenance, usually a flat tire. Install puncture resistant tires, carry the necessary tools and supplies to fix a puncture, and have the skills to do the work. Knowing how to make simple repairs in adverse conditions will serve you well.
What about rain, snow, and other icky weather, you ask? California generally has benign weather compared to where I spent my formative years (Chicago area), but things can still get nasty. Rain, strong winds, and cold temperatures with high relative humidity provide plenty of reasons to throw in the towel and just drive. My motto: "There's no such thing as poor cycling weather, only poor preparation." Fenders, shoe covers, riding tights, insulated gloves, helmet covers, and good cycling lights (front and rear) are excellent investments. Get equipped, get over the hump, get out the door, and you'll find things are not as bad they seem.
A side benefit of cycling is that you will regularly encounter unexpected moments of beauty and awe. It could be wildlife, a breathtaking sunrise or sunset, the stillness of a gentle snow fall, or the mystery of a thick fog. Consider carrying a camera and recording what you see, share these inspiring moments with others, but by all means slow down, appreciate, and enjoy.
8) Manage Risks
Reducing risk on a bike boils down to being visible, wearing a helmet, and riding responsibly and defensively. It may not be fashionable, but bright clothing and lights (front and rear) reduce the risk you'll collide with a motor vehicle or pedestrian. If you find yourself resistant to wearing a helmet, ask yourself this: Do you want to experience a traumatic a brain injury when your noggin hits the pavement? Will you enjoy relearning the alphabet in a rehab facility while your significant other feeds you soup from a spoon? In addition to wearing a helmet, ride responsibly and follow the rules of the road. There's a difference between executing an Idaho Stop at a deserted intersection and acting like a selfish jerk in heavy traffic. Don't ride like a jerk!
9) Care for Your Ride
Once a week, clean your bike, check your tire pressure, oil your chain (if you're still using a chain), and check the condition of your brakes. A little preventative attention now can prevent a roadside repair at an inopportune time and location. I've learned this the hard way. Few things match the unwanted excitement of making a tire repair on a dark and lonely urban street in a pouring rain.
10) Be an Example for Others
When people you know or work with see you have adopted bicycle commuting, they may question your mental health. There's no need to try to sell others on the virtues of using a bike as transportation. The very fact that you arrive by bike and that you look and feel great is all the evidence others will need to adjust their commuting priorities.
Showing posts with label commentary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label commentary. Show all posts
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Sunday, November 24, 2013
In Praise of the Bell
There are unfortunate trends in bicycling such as wearing dark clothing, cycling at night without lights and without a helmet, riding on the wrong side of road, and rude disregard for traffic laws, but few are as disturbing as cyclists who eschew the use of a bicycle bell. Some cyclists may feel that having a bell on their bike is emasculating or childish, but that's simply not true. Bike bells come in a dizzying array of sizes, shapes and timbre and more cyclists should be using them because bells are powerful.
Bikes and pedestrians often share pathways in European countries and they have bicycle regulations requiring bicycles have certain equipment. In Germany the Straßenverkehrszulassungsordnung, or road traffic permit regulations, requires certain equipment, including a helltönenden klingel or high-toned bell. In the US, bicycle regulations vary from state to state. Compared to the StVZO, California doesn't require much bicycle equipment at all. And California law does not require a bicycle bell.
What is so important about a bell? When riding on multi-use paths or in the city, ringing a bell to alert pedestrians and other cyclist to your presence is good etiquette. Okay, many people young and old can barely spell etiquette and even fewer know what it means, but the power of a tiny bell can change all that.
With a bell, there's no need to yell "passing on your left" or "heads up" or "haul ass!" Instead, you let the sound of the bell speak for you. The pleasant, ringing isn't at all like a honking horn and carries few of the negative connotations. The bell says, politely, "I'm behind you and would like to pass." With more bike bells in the US, more Americans would remember or come to understand what the sound means. With more bike bells, Americans could become more cooperative and less contentious. If you don't have a bell on your bike, why not get one and start a re-evolution?
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| StVZO required equipment |
Bikes and pedestrians often share pathways in European countries and they have bicycle regulations requiring bicycles have certain equipment. In Germany the Straßenverkehrszulassungsordnung, or road traffic permit regulations, requires certain equipment, including a helltönenden klingel or high-toned bell. In the US, bicycle regulations vary from state to state. Compared to the StVZO, California doesn't require much bicycle equipment at all. And California law does not require a bicycle bell.
- Helmet for persons under 18 years of age
- Handlebars
- An attached seat
- For Night Riding
- White headlamp, attached to the bicycle or your body
- Red rear reflector
- White or yellow reflectors on front and back of each pedal
- White or yellow reflectors usually mounted on wheel spokes
- If you have tires front and rear with reflecting sidewalls you do not need side reflectors
What is so important about a bell? When riding on multi-use paths or in the city, ringing a bell to alert pedestrians and other cyclist to your presence is good etiquette. Okay, many people young and old can barely spell etiquette and even fewer know what it means, but the power of a tiny bell can change all that.
With a bell, there's no need to yell "passing on your left" or "heads up" or "haul ass!" Instead, you let the sound of the bell speak for you. The pleasant, ringing isn't at all like a honking horn and carries few of the negative connotations. The bell says, politely, "I'm behind you and would like to pass." With more bike bells in the US, more Americans would remember or come to understand what the sound means. With more bike bells, Americans could become more cooperative and less contentious. If you don't have a bell on your bike, why not get one and start a re-evolution?
Friday, October 25, 2013
Changing Seasons
The weather lately in Northern California has been kind to those of us who don't want to face the fact that summer is over. Even as each day grows noticeably shorter than the last, even as I find myself cycle commuting home in the dark, there's still a trace of denial. Wearing shorts into the heart of autumn in Northern California is a gamble: You may be comfortable or you might just find it too darned cold and damp. It all depends on the vagaries of the weather systems over the Pacific. Almost to the end of October, there's no denying it now: We're well on our way to winter.
I subscribe to the notion that there's no such thing as poor cycling weather, only poor preparation. Reluctantly, the woolen leg and arm warmers have been taken out of storage, along with heavier woolen socks. Wearing the right clothes certainly helps deal with darkness and chilliness, but acquiring the mental attitude toward winter cycling is what matters most. You don't need to enter a state of denial or embrace severity and deprivation, but it is helpful to find a way to actually enjoy cold weather riding.
Cycling home on Doolittle Road at 8pm the other night, the still waters of the San Leandro Bay were mesmerizing. The Oakland A's were playing some team or another and overcast skies reflected the lights of the Oakland Coliseum, transforming them into a soft orange glow. The Oakland city center was visible in the background and despite the chill, the visual effect was of being inside a peaceful cocoon. Then a UPS semi-truck blasted past me and shattered the moment. At least it wasn't raining ...
We already experienced an unseasonably wet weekend a month or so ago. It was dry when I awoke for my early morning bike commute so I packed some light-weight rain gear and decided to give it a go. There was a headwind on the ride in. Winds out of the Southwest usually signal rain for the Bay Area. My first and only lesson of the day was limited to flying touch-and-goes in the pattern at Oakland. We accomplished five takeoffs and landings before the rain reduced the visibility and forced us to terminate. I hung around the airport, waiting for the front to pass. When the rain subsided, I began the trip home only to be caught in a couple of downpours. Remembering that this sort of riding is mostly a mental game, I took solace in the wise words of a former student named Allan: "You reach an age where that which does not kill you comes damn close ..."
The main challenges of winter cycling are shorter days, night rides home, and cold, damp air. Having grown up in the Midwest and endured several blizzards, I know the temperatures in the Bay Area are relatively warm. What makes 40 degrees feel so bone-chillingly cold is the high relative humidity. So I look for distractions from the discomfort. Like spotting the dim outline of a family of raccoons crossing the street in front of me with an ungainly, ghoulish gait. Or the sight of a mother deer and her fawn, standing still in the shadowy darkness of a North Berkeley front lawn, waiting for me to pass.
As December approaches, know that the nights will become colder. Know that rainy weather will envelope Northern California. And know that dedicated cyclists everywhere will adapt and endure. If on some stormy, wet night, you see a cyclist, clad in rain gear, bicycle lit up like a Christmas tree, inexorably making their way through the streets of San Leandro, Alameda, Oakland or Berkeley, well that could very well be me. But don't despair. It's quite possible that I'm actually enjoying a nice winter ride home.
I subscribe to the notion that there's no such thing as poor cycling weather, only poor preparation. Reluctantly, the woolen leg and arm warmers have been taken out of storage, along with heavier woolen socks. Wearing the right clothes certainly helps deal with darkness and chilliness, but acquiring the mental attitude toward winter cycling is what matters most. You don't need to enter a state of denial or embrace severity and deprivation, but it is helpful to find a way to actually enjoy cold weather riding.
Cycling home on Doolittle Road at 8pm the other night, the still waters of the San Leandro Bay were mesmerizing. The Oakland A's were playing some team or another and overcast skies reflected the lights of the Oakland Coliseum, transforming them into a soft orange glow. The Oakland city center was visible in the background and despite the chill, the visual effect was of being inside a peaceful cocoon. Then a UPS semi-truck blasted past me and shattered the moment. At least it wasn't raining ...
We already experienced an unseasonably wet weekend a month or so ago. It was dry when I awoke for my early morning bike commute so I packed some light-weight rain gear and decided to give it a go. There was a headwind on the ride in. Winds out of the Southwest usually signal rain for the Bay Area. My first and only lesson of the day was limited to flying touch-and-goes in the pattern at Oakland. We accomplished five takeoffs and landings before the rain reduced the visibility and forced us to terminate. I hung around the airport, waiting for the front to pass. When the rain subsided, I began the trip home only to be caught in a couple of downpours. Remembering that this sort of riding is mostly a mental game, I took solace in the wise words of a former student named Allan: "You reach an age where that which does not kill you comes damn close ..."
The main challenges of winter cycling are shorter days, night rides home, and cold, damp air. Having grown up in the Midwest and endured several blizzards, I know the temperatures in the Bay Area are relatively warm. What makes 40 degrees feel so bone-chillingly cold is the high relative humidity. So I look for distractions from the discomfort. Like spotting the dim outline of a family of raccoons crossing the street in front of me with an ungainly, ghoulish gait. Or the sight of a mother deer and her fawn, standing still in the shadowy darkness of a North Berkeley front lawn, waiting for me to pass.
As December approaches, know that the nights will become colder. Know that rainy weather will envelope Northern California. And know that dedicated cyclists everywhere will adapt and endure. If on some stormy, wet night, you see a cyclist, clad in rain gear, bicycle lit up like a Christmas tree, inexorably making their way through the streets of San Leandro, Alameda, Oakland or Berkeley, well that could very well be me. But don't despair. It's quite possible that I'm actually enjoying a nice winter ride home.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Cycling the New Bay Bridge
Rules, Rules, Rules
Local TV news reporters, always looking for drama, claimed in a story last night that bicyclists are exceeding the 15 MPH speed limit on the new path. I can say that bike speed is not a problem westbound due to the uphill climb and the prevailing winds. Controlling your bike speed when eastbound can be a challenge given the inevitable tailwind, the downward incline, and the fact that many cyclists don't have bike computers or any objective measure of their speed. I was riding my brakes on most of my return trip (eastbound). When I got home, I checked MapMyRide and found that I actually exceeded the 15 MPH limit, reaching a top speed of 17.2 MPH at one point. My bad.
On my 1 hour visit I saw hundreds of cyclists and pedestrians, I didn't observe any cyclists going excessively fast. I did see numerous CHP officers on bike (I said "Hi" but most were not very friendly). I also saw many users blithely ignoring the trail markings of where pedestrians should walk and where cyclists should travel. Are Americans generally so clueless? Sadly, it seems many of us are clueless. When given instructions on what to do, many of us just do as we please, apparently insisting that liberty and freedom relieve us of any responsibility to be good citizen and to occasionally think of others. Ah, America!
Trail to Somewhere
As it stands, the Zuckermann path does not go all the way to Treasure Island/Yerba Buena. Being that the path is on the southeast side of the bridge, the old bridge is in the way of constructing a landing for the path. The completion of the landing is scheduled within a year or two, depending on who you talk to. Even as it currently exists, the path is well worth a short bike ride or longish hike. Not only for the views, but for a close up look at both the new structure and the old bridge.
The temporary ramp to the bridge is constructed of wood with a steel plate overlay.
Gleaming White and Graceful
I heard an architecture critic say on the radio last week that the new Bay Bridge span was okay, but didn't have the iconic beauty of the Golden Gate. I disagree because these two bridges came from different generations. I find the arcing arrangement of cables and the single tower to be ... dare I say it ... breathtaking. Riding back to Oakland, I found myself marveling at the amazing contributions we can make to our communities and to generations yet-to-come, once we find a way to cooperate, roll up our sleeves and get to work. Consider the tens of thousands of person-hours that went into the design and construction of this structure or just stop and enjoy the view, but by all means do visit the Zuckerman path. Remember that the process of dismantling the old cantilever span will start soon, so you may want to get a last look at the old bridge before it's gone. Like me, you may find yourself realizing you are two-thirds of the way to reaching San Francisco and conclude that continuing the path the rest of the way is a no-brainer.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Time in a Barrel
Reading Bill McKibben's book, Eaarth: Making a Life on a Tough New Planet, I was struck by his illustration of how much human power is equivalent to the energy contained in a single barrel of oil. 42 gallons of oil equals about 25,000 hours (or more than a decade) of one human being's labor and that, along with natural gas and coal, has provided humankind with a sort of time machine: By combining the energy stored in fossil fuel with human ingenuity, we started the industrial revolution and in the process we changed our earth forever. We created machines and infrastructure that allow us to travel vast distances in a matter of hours. Communication systems allow us to exchange data and ideas, such as this blog. Data can travel around the world in a matter of seconds. By letting us accomplish so much in such a short period of time, fossil fuel has altered our consciousness.
We don't perceive or value time and energy the way our ancestors did because with fossil fuel, we can fold time and space. Walk outside your home or office, stand by a stop sign, wait for a car to appear, and you'll see something that happens hundreds of thousands of times each day. The driver will bring their car to a stop (hopefully) and then accelerate away from the stop. Depending on how aggressive, frustrated, or relaxed the driver is feeling, they may accelerate slowly (using less fuel) or rapidly (using a more fuel). What the driver probably doesn't appreciate is the benefit provided by their car's engine and the fuel it is burning: They are moving a ton or so of metal, rubber, plastic, themselves, their passengers, and their cargo by simply extending the toes of their right foot. Put the same cargo onto a bicycle, turn the driver into the engine, and you will dramatically realign their awareness of energy, time, and space.
The compression of time and space provided by fossil fuel, along with the increase in available activities and goods, has changed the way we value those goods and activities. We spend a lot more time sitting, observing, and thinking. We tend to drive more and walk less. With less physical activity, we are more obese and more likely to suffer from diabetes, high blood pressure, and cardiac disease. We expend less physical energy, but we complain that there aren't enough hours in a day to accomplish all we'd like to accomplish. Without an appreciation of the labor that goes into cultivating food, we aren't troubled by wasting food. Forced to walk or bicycle the 32 miles the average American commutes to work each day, most of us would choose to live closer to work, or find work closer to where we live, or allot considerably more than the 52 minutes the average American spends commuting. Forced to walk to the grocery, we make more thoughtful choices and have a greater appreciation of our resources. Which gets us back to the crux of our predicament.
With dwindling fossil fuel reserves and climate change already underway, McKibben has been exploring the myriad of issues we will soon face: What sort of work we will do, how we'll meet our transportation needs, what sorts of food will be available, and where will we find clean water. It's a huge topic, so big that most of us can't get our minds around it. We have catapulted ourselves into the future, but soon we'll begin to decelerate and we'll need to adjust our priorities and values. A good place to start is to cultivate an appreciation of how much human labor is contained in a barrel of oil, a gallon of gasoline, even a 60 watt light bulb. Forget carbon offsets and all the other distractions. Getting your mind around renewable energy, human-powered activities and locally-based economies are the first steps toward preparing for the future.
We don't perceive or value time and energy the way our ancestors did because with fossil fuel, we can fold time and space. Walk outside your home or office, stand by a stop sign, wait for a car to appear, and you'll see something that happens hundreds of thousands of times each day. The driver will bring their car to a stop (hopefully) and then accelerate away from the stop. Depending on how aggressive, frustrated, or relaxed the driver is feeling, they may accelerate slowly (using less fuel) or rapidly (using a more fuel). What the driver probably doesn't appreciate is the benefit provided by their car's engine and the fuel it is burning: They are moving a ton or so of metal, rubber, plastic, themselves, their passengers, and their cargo by simply extending the toes of their right foot. Put the same cargo onto a bicycle, turn the driver into the engine, and you will dramatically realign their awareness of energy, time, and space.
The compression of time and space provided by fossil fuel, along with the increase in available activities and goods, has changed the way we value those goods and activities. We spend a lot more time sitting, observing, and thinking. We tend to drive more and walk less. With less physical activity, we are more obese and more likely to suffer from diabetes, high blood pressure, and cardiac disease. We expend less physical energy, but we complain that there aren't enough hours in a day to accomplish all we'd like to accomplish. Without an appreciation of the labor that goes into cultivating food, we aren't troubled by wasting food. Forced to walk or bicycle the 32 miles the average American commutes to work each day, most of us would choose to live closer to work, or find work closer to where we live, or allot considerably more than the 52 minutes the average American spends commuting. Forced to walk to the grocery, we make more thoughtful choices and have a greater appreciation of our resources. Which gets us back to the crux of our predicament.
With dwindling fossil fuel reserves and climate change already underway, McKibben has been exploring the myriad of issues we will soon face: What sort of work we will do, how we'll meet our transportation needs, what sorts of food will be available, and where will we find clean water. It's a huge topic, so big that most of us can't get our minds around it. We have catapulted ourselves into the future, but soon we'll begin to decelerate and we'll need to adjust our priorities and values. A good place to start is to cultivate an appreciation of how much human labor is contained in a barrel of oil, a gallon of gasoline, even a 60 watt light bulb. Forget carbon offsets and all the other distractions. Getting your mind around renewable energy, human-powered activities and locally-based economies are the first steps toward preparing for the future.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Metadata and the Unwanted Gaze
The President claimed yesterday, in the continuing debate about NSA surveillance, that Americans' privacy has not been violated by the collection of so-called meta-data. But it appears there are a large number of citizens who don't agree with the President's assessment. We should have seen our growing surveillance society as it was developing, but most of us didn't. The crux of debate on NSA data trawling hinges on two related issues. The first has been our inability, to date, to translate the rights and privacy we desire in the actual world to our presence in the virtual world of email, web surfing, and social media. The second is the very real injury that comes from being watched. One has to agree with the President that it's important to debate the issue of governmental surveillance, now that we know it is occurring, because how we decide today on the issues of virtual rights and the unwanted gaze will set the stage for expectations of privacy and rights for generations to come.
Letters & Postcards
A couple of decades ago, Phillip Zimmerman developed an open source public key encryption suite called Pretty Good Privacy (PGP) that could be used to scramble stored data and email content, thereby preventing it from being read without the permission of the owner or the intended recipient of the data. The need for encryption was illustrated by comparing letters and postcards: When you send a letter via US Post, you expect the contents inside the envelope to remain private while the letter is in transit to the recipient. In contrast, when you send a postcard you have relinquished any such expectation: You are willingly acknowledging that anyone and everyone is free to read what you have written. Each of us knows this and adjusts accordingly: There are many things that we might put in a letter that we would never consider revealing in a postcard. What most American's don't seem to realize is that an unencrypted email message is the digital equivalent of a postcard. They can be intercepted and read by any number of entities while the data makes it's way from the sender to the recipient. If you think that no one can read your email once you press SEND, it's time to wake up and smell the coffee.
PGP, and it's variants, rely on a public key for each person that is widely distributed (usually on one or more of several key servers) and a private key that the individual keeps securely stored. Data sent to an individual is encrypted using their public key and can only be decrypted using that person's private key. You can use PGP to encrypt locally-stored data and you can digitally sign a message so that the recipient can verify the message was 1) sent by the holder of your private key and 2) that the contents have not been altered by a third party. Encryption should be the default for email, but sadly it is not. Few people realize the implications and even fewer actually care that this is the state of digital privacy.
For his part in developing and distributing PGP, Zimmerman was subject to a federal investigation (at considerable personal expense) for unauthorized exportation of weapons (military grade encryption). In the end, Zimmerman prevailed and even started a company that marketed the PGP products. Eventually PGP was acquired by Symantec and has since been sold, but you can find PGP products for Windows, MacOS, iOS, and Android. It's a bit cumbersome, but you can send encrypted emails that are essentially the equivalent of a sealed letter, it just requires some effort and your recipient must do some work to create a public key.
Metadata and What It Means
Traditional Jewish law recognizes that injury occurs when anyone comes under the unwanted gaze of another. This sort of gazing does not have to have the salacious intent of a peeping tom. Anyone who watches their neighbor's activities without permission is harming the other person. This injury is what seems to have been lost on the White House when it asserts that no one's phone, email or text messages are being read so there's no harm being done. The very fact that the government is recording details about who is talking to whom is causing injury, regardless of whether or not one of the parties is a "foreigner."
What makes the NSA's wide-scale snooping so troublesome is that, by collecting and storing large amounts of meta-data, they are creating an index into all communications occurring between individuals. While some of these individuals may have criminal or, if you prefer, "terrorist" intentions, the data that is being swept up is general in nature. The general search and seizure of this meta-data is occurring before any crime has been alleged or committed. Having a meta-data index into communications simply makes locating and reading of unencrypted data that much easier. Governmental assurances that only "suspect" communications are being targeted is beside the point.
Data has been gathered without the knowledge or permission of everyone involved and this turns the presumption of innocence on it's head. We are developing a legal framework where everyone is potentially guilty until proved innocent. Just as you would not write your innermost thoughts and feeling on a postcard, each of us changes our behavior when we know we are being watched. We have all been injured because when we are under surveillance, we cannot act and think freely.
Taking Action
There are productive choices each of us can make in regard to the NSA's snooping. First, make your displeasure known to your elected representatives who have been complicit in approving these activities. Citizens only enjoy the rights that they are willing to defend.
Second, take steps to secure your communications and data. GPG (GNU Privacy Guard), a free implementation of the OpenPGP standard, is available for Windows, Unix, MacOS, iOS and Android. Download GPG, generate a private and public key, publish your public key, keep you private key secure, and encourage your friends to adopt the policy of sending only encrypted emails. If you send text messages and are an iOS user, use iMessage whenever possible since, according to this article, those messages are encrypted and cannot be intercepted by law enforcement.
All of these actions may not stop NSA snooping. Governmental snoopers may ultimately be able to access encrypted data through password cracking or by installing key logging software, but at least we can make them work for it.
Letters & Postcards
A couple of decades ago, Phillip Zimmerman developed an open source public key encryption suite called Pretty Good Privacy (PGP) that could be used to scramble stored data and email content, thereby preventing it from being read without the permission of the owner or the intended recipient of the data. The need for encryption was illustrated by comparing letters and postcards: When you send a letter via US Post, you expect the contents inside the envelope to remain private while the letter is in transit to the recipient. In contrast, when you send a postcard you have relinquished any such expectation: You are willingly acknowledging that anyone and everyone is free to read what you have written. Each of us knows this and adjusts accordingly: There are many things that we might put in a letter that we would never consider revealing in a postcard. What most American's don't seem to realize is that an unencrypted email message is the digital equivalent of a postcard. They can be intercepted and read by any number of entities while the data makes it's way from the sender to the recipient. If you think that no one can read your email once you press SEND, it's time to wake up and smell the coffee.
PGP, and it's variants, rely on a public key for each person that is widely distributed (usually on one or more of several key servers) and a private key that the individual keeps securely stored. Data sent to an individual is encrypted using their public key and can only be decrypted using that person's private key. You can use PGP to encrypt locally-stored data and you can digitally sign a message so that the recipient can verify the message was 1) sent by the holder of your private key and 2) that the contents have not been altered by a third party. Encryption should be the default for email, but sadly it is not. Few people realize the implications and even fewer actually care that this is the state of digital privacy.
For his part in developing and distributing PGP, Zimmerman was subject to a federal investigation (at considerable personal expense) for unauthorized exportation of weapons (military grade encryption). In the end, Zimmerman prevailed and even started a company that marketed the PGP products. Eventually PGP was acquired by Symantec and has since been sold, but you can find PGP products for Windows, MacOS, iOS, and Android. It's a bit cumbersome, but you can send encrypted emails that are essentially the equivalent of a sealed letter, it just requires some effort and your recipient must do some work to create a public key.
Metadata and What It Means
Traditional Jewish law recognizes that injury occurs when anyone comes under the unwanted gaze of another. This sort of gazing does not have to have the salacious intent of a peeping tom. Anyone who watches their neighbor's activities without permission is harming the other person. This injury is what seems to have been lost on the White House when it asserts that no one's phone, email or text messages are being read so there's no harm being done. The very fact that the government is recording details about who is talking to whom is causing injury, regardless of whether or not one of the parties is a "foreigner."
What makes the NSA's wide-scale snooping so troublesome is that, by collecting and storing large amounts of meta-data, they are creating an index into all communications occurring between individuals. While some of these individuals may have criminal or, if you prefer, "terrorist" intentions, the data that is being swept up is general in nature. The general search and seizure of this meta-data is occurring before any crime has been alleged or committed. Having a meta-data index into communications simply makes locating and reading of unencrypted data that much easier. Governmental assurances that only "suspect" communications are being targeted is beside the point.
Data has been gathered without the knowledge or permission of everyone involved and this turns the presumption of innocence on it's head. We are developing a legal framework where everyone is potentially guilty until proved innocent. Just as you would not write your innermost thoughts and feeling on a postcard, each of us changes our behavior when we know we are being watched. We have all been injured because when we are under surveillance, we cannot act and think freely.
Taking Action
There are productive choices each of us can make in regard to the NSA's snooping. First, make your displeasure known to your elected representatives who have been complicit in approving these activities. Citizens only enjoy the rights that they are willing to defend.
Second, take steps to secure your communications and data. GPG (GNU Privacy Guard), a free implementation of the OpenPGP standard, is available for Windows, Unix, MacOS, iOS and Android. Download GPG, generate a private and public key, publish your public key, keep you private key secure, and encourage your friends to adopt the policy of sending only encrypted emails. If you send text messages and are an iOS user, use iMessage whenever possible since, according to this article, those messages are encrypted and cannot be intercepted by law enforcement.
All of these actions may not stop NSA snooping. Governmental snoopers may ultimately be able to access encrypted data through password cracking or by installing key logging software, but at least we can make them work for it.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Between the Cracks
"How can you ride a bike on Central Expressway?" a coworker asked several years ago. "It's so dangerous!" The stretch of pavement that connects Palo Alto, Mountain View, Sunnyvale, and Santa Clara was a route I used most every day, but this was a hard question to answer. How you define danger, what makes you feel vulnerable, what makes you feel safe? The best answer would cut through the emotional layers and illuminate the cycling experience for a non-cyclist. "What drivers don't realize is that the traffic on the expressway isn't a continuous stream, it comes in waves. There are actually long periods of quiet and calm." It was clear the reality experienced by a driver in a car was not what was experienced by a cyclist.
Fast forward 20 years to Saturday morning, 6:30am, I'm cycling across Berkeley on my way to the Oakland Airport. This is my favorite time because the streets are quiet, the air is cool, and the winds are calm. I often see deer standing in the neighborhood lawns regarding me with a placid sort of curiosity, or is it bored indifference? This time of morning, it's easy to believe that you've returned to a time when people worked a 40 hour week, slept 8 hours a night, and ate breakfast before leaving for work. Things will get more hectic in 20 minutes, when I make my way through Oakland and closer to the freeway, the road that never sleeps. But for now the stillness magnifies every sound and lets me hear the crows' alarm as I approach as well as boisterous garbage trucks worming their way through the streets. Turning onto San Pablo Avenue, life begins to accelerate.
"How can you cycle on San Pablo Avenue? It's so dangerous!" I've been asked this question recently and the answer is the same as it was 20 years ago. I slide up on the ride side of an AC Transit bus waiting at a red light. Looking inside, the patrons seem dazed, some almost asleep, eyes closed. I'm just the opposite: My heart is pumping steadily, I'm in touch with the world around me, and I'm wide awake. I'd better be because the bus driver is all business. She has seen it all and is inching forward in little jerky motions, intent on blasting straight ahead and leaving me in a cloud of diesel exhaust as soon as the light turns green. I hate to disappoint, but this is where I turn right.
Humming down Adeline Street, muscles warm, not yet fatigued, in the zone, passing auto body shops, a tofu distributor, and my favorite green coffee distributor (Sweet Maria's), the giant Port of Oakland cranes come into view. A left on 8th Street is a shortcut that trades a long, poorly timed stoplight for a couple of stop signs. Controlling the traffic debate is key for urban cycling. This is not an affluent neighborhood. Section 8 housing predominates, but it has never felt particularly dangerous. Until today.
I turn right on Filbert and an FBI van surrounded by a swarm of SWAT-style police comes into view. A couple of officers (are they CHP or FBI or OPD? Does it matter?) loping down the sidewalk in military fashion briefly lock eyes with me. I give them my best, innocent, "Hey, I'm just on my way to work" sort of expression. Apparently I'm not a threat. They continue on their "mission," I continue on mine, silently lamenting the never ending wars in which we engage: The war on drugs, the war on terror. What happened to the wars on poverty, illiteracy, and hunger? Did we lose those wars, tacitly admit defeat, and move on? Does a militarized police force make us safer or do we just feel safer? A few more blocks, I pass under the freeway, and I'm quietly spinning through the Jack London Square neighborhood. A line of semi trucks are queued up, heading to the docks. The events a few blocks earlier are out of sight and out of mind, as are the questions they raise, at least for now. I've mentally clicked on dislike, changed channels, moved on.
Third Street is a designated bike route that cuts through the heart of the Produce District, but only a non-cyclist could have decided it was good for bikes. Dozens of delivery trucks protruding into the street, forklifts zigzaging, workers in a hurry to load fresh fruits and vegetables, the street punctuated by numerous intersections and stop signs. This is a bike route in name only. I head to Embarcadero, even though train tracks run through the middle of the street and the pavement is rough. It is less trafficked, fewer stop signs, fewer intersections, more direct. It is safer, or at least it feels safer.
Embarcadero trickles out of Jack London Square and threads the thin gap between Alameda's inner harbor and interstate 880. I'm passing the freeway traffic which is crawling because of an accident of some sort. The drivers are encased in steel cages, airbags, anti-lock brakes, so they must be safe, right? To me, their faces look like the ones I saw on the bus: Dazed, disconnected, maybe disaffected. In contrast, the cyclists I encounter are alert, engaged, alive. Some look straight ahead, but others nod, wave, some ring their bike bells, some are even smiling. Just a few more miles and I'll be at the airport, refreshed and ready to start flying.
Endless wars, countless conflicts, and our obsession with security provide a never-ending supply of patriots and heroes. We've forgotten the patriots who have never wielded a gun, but who have the courage to get out of bed and face a neighborhood where gun violence is commonplace. We've lost sight of the heroes who serve and protect an aging parent or a care for a spouse with a debilitating illness. And when did we lose the courage to look into the mirror each morning, see an aging face, wrinkles not hidden or corrupted by plastic surgery? It is time to forgive, accept who we are, what we have become, and what we have made of ourselves. It's not too late to find the courage to live life, risk trusting our neighbors, face pain and loss, and know that life will go on whether or not we feel safe. Perhaps we can discover a way through the gaps left by others to find love, acceptance, and awakening through simple daily acts. Perhaps we can reach enlightenment just by riding a bicycle.
Fast forward 20 years to Saturday morning, 6:30am, I'm cycling across Berkeley on my way to the Oakland Airport. This is my favorite time because the streets are quiet, the air is cool, and the winds are calm. I often see deer standing in the neighborhood lawns regarding me with a placid sort of curiosity, or is it bored indifference? This time of morning, it's easy to believe that you've returned to a time when people worked a 40 hour week, slept 8 hours a night, and ate breakfast before leaving for work. Things will get more hectic in 20 minutes, when I make my way through Oakland and closer to the freeway, the road that never sleeps. But for now the stillness magnifies every sound and lets me hear the crows' alarm as I approach as well as boisterous garbage trucks worming their way through the streets. Turning onto San Pablo Avenue, life begins to accelerate.
"How can you cycle on San Pablo Avenue? It's so dangerous!" I've been asked this question recently and the answer is the same as it was 20 years ago. I slide up on the ride side of an AC Transit bus waiting at a red light. Looking inside, the patrons seem dazed, some almost asleep, eyes closed. I'm just the opposite: My heart is pumping steadily, I'm in touch with the world around me, and I'm wide awake. I'd better be because the bus driver is all business. She has seen it all and is inching forward in little jerky motions, intent on blasting straight ahead and leaving me in a cloud of diesel exhaust as soon as the light turns green. I hate to disappoint, but this is where I turn right.
Humming down Adeline Street, muscles warm, not yet fatigued, in the zone, passing auto body shops, a tofu distributor, and my favorite green coffee distributor (Sweet Maria's), the giant Port of Oakland cranes come into view. A left on 8th Street is a shortcut that trades a long, poorly timed stoplight for a couple of stop signs. Controlling the traffic debate is key for urban cycling. This is not an affluent neighborhood. Section 8 housing predominates, but it has never felt particularly dangerous. Until today.
I turn right on Filbert and an FBI van surrounded by a swarm of SWAT-style police comes into view. A couple of officers (are they CHP or FBI or OPD? Does it matter?) loping down the sidewalk in military fashion briefly lock eyes with me. I give them my best, innocent, "Hey, I'm just on my way to work" sort of expression. Apparently I'm not a threat. They continue on their "mission," I continue on mine, silently lamenting the never ending wars in which we engage: The war on drugs, the war on terror. What happened to the wars on poverty, illiteracy, and hunger? Did we lose those wars, tacitly admit defeat, and move on? Does a militarized police force make us safer or do we just feel safer? A few more blocks, I pass under the freeway, and I'm quietly spinning through the Jack London Square neighborhood. A line of semi trucks are queued up, heading to the docks. The events a few blocks earlier are out of sight and out of mind, as are the questions they raise, at least for now. I've mentally clicked on dislike, changed channels, moved on.
Third Street is a designated bike route that cuts through the heart of the Produce District, but only a non-cyclist could have decided it was good for bikes. Dozens of delivery trucks protruding into the street, forklifts zigzaging, workers in a hurry to load fresh fruits and vegetables, the street punctuated by numerous intersections and stop signs. This is a bike route in name only. I head to Embarcadero, even though train tracks run through the middle of the street and the pavement is rough. It is less trafficked, fewer stop signs, fewer intersections, more direct. It is safer, or at least it feels safer.
Embarcadero trickles out of Jack London Square and threads the thin gap between Alameda's inner harbor and interstate 880. I'm passing the freeway traffic which is crawling because of an accident of some sort. The drivers are encased in steel cages, airbags, anti-lock brakes, so they must be safe, right? To me, their faces look like the ones I saw on the bus: Dazed, disconnected, maybe disaffected. In contrast, the cyclists I encounter are alert, engaged, alive. Some look straight ahead, but others nod, wave, some ring their bike bells, some are even smiling. Just a few more miles and I'll be at the airport, refreshed and ready to start flying.
Endless wars, countless conflicts, and our obsession with security provide a never-ending supply of patriots and heroes. We've forgotten the patriots who have never wielded a gun, but who have the courage to get out of bed and face a neighborhood where gun violence is commonplace. We've lost sight of the heroes who serve and protect an aging parent or a care for a spouse with a debilitating illness. And when did we lose the courage to look into the mirror each morning, see an aging face, wrinkles not hidden or corrupted by plastic surgery? It is time to forgive, accept who we are, what we have become, and what we have made of ourselves. It's not too late to find the courage to live life, risk trusting our neighbors, face pain and loss, and know that life will go on whether or not we feel safe. Perhaps we can discover a way through the gaps left by others to find love, acceptance, and awakening through simple daily acts. Perhaps we can reach enlightenment just by riding a bicycle.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Down the Tube: Part II
Several friends have asked what is so fascinating about non-motorized access to the Posey Tube. I'm not sure how to answer other than to say that it's hard to find a more poignant illustration of the imbalance between motor vehicle facilities provided by the State and those provided to non-motorized transport (i.e. walking or bicycling). The single, narrow sidewalk called the Posey Tube Trail is meant to be shared by two-way pedestrian and bicycle traffic. It is so inadequate it seems medieval, especially when you consider that bicyclists traveling in opposite directions have to lift and then dangle one bike over the railing so the other can pass. The only reason that this arrangement is allowed to continue seems to be that the conditions inside the tunnel limit the number of people willing to use the trail. And those users are not influential or well-heeled. But this was all hearsay. I had to transit the Posey Tube myself to see the conditions firsthand (video at the end).
The first thing that strikes you is the narrow space between the steel pipe railing and the tiled wall. It would be uncomfortable for two average-sized people to walk side-by-side. Adding to the challenge for cyclists is a seam right in the middle of much of concrete pavement, an indentation that tends to cause your front tire to stray in ways you'd rather it didn't. The sidewalk seems to get slightly wider in the center of the tunnel, only to become narrower at the ends. I didn't take measurements. I didn't have time.
I transited from Oakland to Alameda on a Tuesday around 12:30pm, on my way to work at the Oakland Airport. The vehicle traffic was light and the air was not as profoundly polluted as when I first peered into the portal a few weeks ago. I measured the sound level with an iPhone decibel meter app at 85 to 105db. Not pretty, but not much louder than inside a BART train (sorry BART - your cars are very noisy). There's a headwind the entire way because 1) the vehicle traffic is headed toward Oakland and 2) the giant ventilation fans on the Oakland side draw fresh air in from the Alameda side.
The first 20 yards of the sidewalk are especially difficult given the 3 inches of clearance on each end of my handlebars. Now you know why all the young hipsters ride fixed-gear bikes with incredibly sawed-off, narrow handlebars: They make it easier to transit the Posey Tube, of course! I had recently installed new handlebars on my Prole and it's a good thing I had trimmed 25mm off each end.
Others have written about how filthy the tunnel walls can be when coated with soot from diesel exhaust and what one writer described as "human disappointments." Lucky for me, the walls of the Posey Tube seemed to had been recently pressure washed. I slid against the wall a few times and I was wearing a light colored shirt and came away without any visible dirt or stain.
I didn't encounter an opposite-direction cyclist during my trip. My commuter bike is heavy and lifting it over the railing was something I'd rather avoid. I did encounter two pedestrians: One, a smartly dressed young professional, the other a man who seemed to have all his earthly possessions stacked onto a dolly. Good thing he had not yet begun to transit the tube with his dolly - that would have been a real challenge.
When I reached the Alameda side, I carried my bike up the stairs rather than continuing on the narrow path. Once past the man and his stuff and being careful to not step in some human excrement, I looked back as I rode away and marveled at the primitive, dangerous, and inadequate facilities the Posey Tube Trail provides and the message it sends to those of us who choose not to drive motor vehicles.
My thanks to Hamish for the lending me his GoPro Hero3 for this project.
The first thing that strikes you is the narrow space between the steel pipe railing and the tiled wall. It would be uncomfortable for two average-sized people to walk side-by-side. Adding to the challenge for cyclists is a seam right in the middle of much of concrete pavement, an indentation that tends to cause your front tire to stray in ways you'd rather it didn't. The sidewalk seems to get slightly wider in the center of the tunnel, only to become narrower at the ends. I didn't take measurements. I didn't have time.
I transited from Oakland to Alameda on a Tuesday around 12:30pm, on my way to work at the Oakland Airport. The vehicle traffic was light and the air was not as profoundly polluted as when I first peered into the portal a few weeks ago. I measured the sound level with an iPhone decibel meter app at 85 to 105db. Not pretty, but not much louder than inside a BART train (sorry BART - your cars are very noisy). There's a headwind the entire way because 1) the vehicle traffic is headed toward Oakland and 2) the giant ventilation fans on the Oakland side draw fresh air in from the Alameda side.
The first 20 yards of the sidewalk are especially difficult given the 3 inches of clearance on each end of my handlebars. Now you know why all the young hipsters ride fixed-gear bikes with incredibly sawed-off, narrow handlebars: They make it easier to transit the Posey Tube, of course! I had recently installed new handlebars on my Prole and it's a good thing I had trimmed 25mm off each end.
Others have written about how filthy the tunnel walls can be when coated with soot from diesel exhaust and what one writer described as "human disappointments." Lucky for me, the walls of the Posey Tube seemed to had been recently pressure washed. I slid against the wall a few times and I was wearing a light colored shirt and came away without any visible dirt or stain.
I didn't encounter an opposite-direction cyclist during my trip. My commuter bike is heavy and lifting it over the railing was something I'd rather avoid. I did encounter two pedestrians: One, a smartly dressed young professional, the other a man who seemed to have all his earthly possessions stacked onto a dolly. Good thing he had not yet begun to transit the tube with his dolly - that would have been a real challenge.
When I reached the Alameda side, I carried my bike up the stairs rather than continuing on the narrow path. Once past the man and his stuff and being careful to not step in some human excrement, I looked back as I rode away and marveled at the primitive, dangerous, and inadequate facilities the Posey Tube Trail provides and the message it sends to those of us who choose not to drive motor vehicles.
My thanks to Hamish for the lending me his GoPro Hero3 for this project.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Methinks Mencken Got it Right
"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary."
H.L. Mencken
H.L. Mencken
Sunday, April 29, 2012
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