I get it. I look ridiculous wearing a bright red helmet, on a bike with large saddle racks on the back (with my laptop bag sticking out the top).

But riding my bike is a conscious choice. I have a car. I have a motorcycle. Neither are as eco- or health-friendly as my bike, and while it may not be “cool,” neither is the stripped-down, 1995 Honda Civic that transports the guy giving me the stink-eye. And to the young-uns that like to point and laugh: I’ll respect your opinion when your old enough to drive. If you choose to walk then, I’ll even laugh with you.

I’m not quite certain as to the laws of the road when it comes to riding a bike, but my personal preference is to avoid riding down major thoroughfares that don’t have designated cycle lanes, especially when an eight-ten foot sidewalk is available. On said sidewalk, I kindly oblige to protocol, staying to right.

As to why I didn’t turn around once you started yelling; you were behind me (literally). It was cowardly to wait for me to pass you, and I could foresee nothing positive from any sort of dialog. Besides, I was moving at a good speed, and it’s still over 100° outside.

If you were sleepwalking, I retract any sarcasm and offer my apologies. One cannot clearly decipher sidewalk “lanes” when sleepwalking.

Riding back on Fowler Ave. from Starbucks tonight, Nature was smiling on me. Not only could I feel a noticeable drop in the temperature throughout the older part of the neighborhood, but the road was easy to see from the moonlight.

I took a brief detour to savor the ride. Good times.

I enjoy conversations about why I should support local businesses over chains, and vice versa. The current topic around Fresno seems to be Starbucks and the death of several local coffee shops (and other locally-owned businesses) in Fresno.

Put simply, I’ll support any business that meets my needs, which are usually defined by value (which is a varying perception of price and quality), and experience/customer service. I can forego attentive service if the value is good, and I don’t mind paying more if the service justifies the difference. But I won’t pay more—or even the same in many cases—just because a business is locally owned.

When it comes to food, I argue that many of the national chains offer superior service, as they have developed processes for meeting customer needs. Local eateries often have great food, served with a sense of entitlement or arrogance.

Of course, this isn’t a food blog (though I have one…hint, hint). A more relevant example might include bike shops.

A couple of weeks ago, an experience on my bike led me to thoughts of a photo contest, which I’d eventually like to host here—part fun, part community awareness. To encourage participation, I took initiative to contact six or seven bike shops and sporting goods stores via letter, asking each to consider sponsoring the contest with a gift certificate for bike parts or repair.

In a couple of cases, I sent more than one letter to different people at the business. Only one (REI) was a chain; this also happened to be the only business to respond to my request. Granted, it was a letter declining the sponsorship, but it was cordial, and addressed from the top rank. And again, it was sent.

If I keep riding regularly, I’ll eventually look to upgrade from my Wal-Mart special, and I’ll think back to my experience; I wouldn’t have looked to REI previously, but I just might in the future.

All that said, I might follow up the other letters with a phone call, in hopes that a more direct line of communication will draw in local support.

Today I ventured even further, heading south to Jensen, then west to the canal (just west of Minnewawa). Total one-way travel is almost five and half miles, which put me at a total of eight before lunch. And then I did it again.

Actually, I rode around the neighborhood a bit first, so that puts me at a total of about 17 miles for the day. According to my chiropractor, it’s not really something to brag about, but I doubt he’ll read this.

I told myself today (there’s no one else for me to talk to when I’m riding) that if I can get to 15 – 20 miles in one outing, on my current bike, then I’ll consider the time, energy and expense of a centennial. Check in with me next year.

Finally, we arrived at Running Horse—what once was Running Horse, anyway. A few signs of life surrounded by decaying landscape.

I toured the development back in 2005 with Leadership Fresno, when things were greener. The golf course was under way, and dozens of homes had already been built; in fact, our class was told that they were selling out of lots faster than they were being opened up. Cost of a home back then: $350,000 – $1,000,000, not including a $50,000 country club membership.

What’s left of the golf course is mostly dead grass and trees, but much of the cart path is paved. I took note of this, and last week I returned with a friend and two bikes. We rode around for a while, imagining what could have been.

I hear that the entire development may have recently been purchased, but in case the rumor’s not true, and assuming that Trump’s interest hasn’t renewed, I wonder what the maintenance costs of converting the course to open green space would be.

It’s certainly not wise, given the water shortage, to flood the would-be golf course to get the grass growing again, but maybe the paths could be preserved, and the property divided into sustainable gardens. Rock gardens, cactus gardens (like the one at the Discovery Center)—you get the idea. A Woodward Park, of sorts, of West Fresno.

Sure, Kearney Park is just around the corner, but it’s fenced in, and less green space than historical preserve (in terms of use, not actual space, or green grass). This could be something different. Something Fresno.

I added over two miles to my usual ride, and indeed found a quiet stretch of trail; I also found a beautiful neighborhood due east of the proposed Fancher Creek shopping center.

Unfortunately, parts of the route weren’t well-traveled, and I encountered a bit of loose dirt and dozens of thorns, which Wikipedia labels as “fruit” when they’re still attached to the Tribulus terrestris weed.

After a couple of hours at my favorite table in Starbucks, I mounted my bike to ride home, only to discover my back tire was completely flat. Fortunately, a friend game me a lift home, but when I went out to put the bike in my garage a little while later, the front tire was flat, too.

Looks like I’ll be making a trip to the Schwinn shop this afternoon.

In all, I probably added half a mile to the trip (and I certainly could use the exercise), but it’s such a beautiful stretch that I’m a bit frustrated with myself for not exploring it sooner. Tall trees separate most of the residences from the path, without the sight or sound of another human for several minutes; that might not sound significant, but the alternative is a busy thoroughfare.

No cars here—just ducks, turtles, a cat, and lots of dog poop.

1. No one thinks that my baskets are cool. No one.
   Sure, I’ve received a few seemingly friendly smiles, mixed with a few pointed remarks. Evidently, I’m not cool, and I’m okay with that. I’m getting exercise and (slightly) reducing my carbon footprint…probably.
2. Headlights are underestimated.
   The path home at night is dark; when a car passes, I speed up to mooch from its headlights. Potholes, curbs, dogs—all are easy to avoid in the daylight, but stealthy and dangerous in the the dark.
3. Humans are dirty creatures.
   I’ve never noticed how much garbage lines a street. Not large paper goods, which are easily noticed from a car, but small pieces of shattered glass bottles, plastic oddities, chewing gum, and whatever else people toss from their car.
4. Cyclists can be snobby.
   On the motorcycle, we “bikers” acknowledge each other with a simple two-fingered wave—it’s kind of like a peace sign, turned sideways; even on my old Honda I found acknowledgement from the hardcore Harley riders. But cyclists aren’t as friendly.
   Then again, maybe it’s the baskets…
5. There are two kinds of drivers.
   Many drivers, though fewer than I would have originally guessed, couldn’t care less about cyclists, and may not even notice when we’re near. These people are dangerous.
   At the opposite end of the spectrum are drivers who—once they notice that they’ve pulled out into the intersection you’re about to cross—overcompensate by throwing the car/minivan into reverse and backing up 20-30 feet.

One of the trips I favor is to Starbucks; I drive there regularly, but by biking I lose only about 5 minutes each way, and save about $1 a trip. There are a few routes I can take, though I’m not sure any are very safe; only about 1/4 of any of them have marked bike lanes, and those are full of debris and broken glass.

It’s amazing what we take for granted when driving our cars. Accessories like headlights are accepted as standard, but they’re non-existent on the bike. Riding home at 10:00 p.m., I realize just how dark our neighborhood is, and how few street lights exist in this area. Of course, most of the lights that have been installed (outside of the county island, that is) have been stripped of their wire…I guess I should invest in reflective clothing.