People driving cars (I have observed this before) especially hate it when bicyclists commit the crime of riding side by side. They apparently feel that the privilege of having someone next to you, someone to talk to, someone to share a laugh with, should be exclusively their own. Of course the majority of them are travelling entirely by themselves but in theory they like the idea of having a companion along to stroke their ego and it makes them a little sick to see a bicyclist enjoying company when they have none of their own.
Have you ever noticed how fucking loud cars are? Probably not. We're so accustomed to the goddamned racket of these things hurtling along that we barely pay attention anymore. If you are actually inside a car you are buffered from a lot of the noise your fat-ass peers are making, in fact you are buffered from the disgusting amount of noise you personally are contributing to the lives of everyone around you. I am not buffered. I listen to your raging muscle cars, your slouching Escalades, your grumbling trash trucks --- every time I get on my bicycle --- and I bike a lot.
Newsflash. We bicyclists can barely hear ourselves think. When I carry Rapunzel on the Extracycle she is immediately behind me and I still can't hear how the fuck her day at school went unless I manage to clear a green light that the rest of you get stuck at, even then it's perhaps seven seconds of mostly unimpeded conversation. We ride side by side because we have to be about a foot apart so we can shout at each other and make ourselves heard.
"Your right to swing your fist ends at my nose."
Every day you swing your fist at us. Sometimes it's as huge as drinking a fifth of scotch and then getting into your car and killing one of us. Sometimes it's as terrifying as bicycling home in a bike lane and a semi is coming up behind you that is handling it's vast width by putting a wheel immediately on your rear tire. And everyday it's as commonplace as pumping the air with pollution and drowning out the words we want to share with our companions.
Get out of your damn cars and stop beating us up. We're sick of being punched every time we want to go somewhere.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
you nutbag. what are you doing over there!
I was biking back from Rapunzel's school, carrying Rapunzel on the back of my super kick-ass pedal-powered mom-mobile customized by my favorite Contraption Captain, love you dear. Rapunzel is sitting in the back seat, talking about her day. I'm pedaling up a nice bike lane.
My route is a short carefully selected trip down a quiet back road, right onto a busier road with a good bike lane, and then, the one tricky part, I have to get over to the left so that I can make a left hand turn onto yet another road with a bike lane.
It's not that tricky. The left hand turn is at an intersection with a traffic light and I choose to go left here because I feel having that light makes it just a little safer for me. Usually.
We come to where we make the easy right hand turn and there are no cars in either direction. Cool. I bike a ways up this road and start to approach where I want to make my left hand turn. Still no cars. Cool. Also the light ahead of me is red, so even if there were cars not like they'd be slowed down a lot. I get over to the left side of the lane and head up the last few yards to the red light.
A car comes up behind me. I watch them approach in my rear mirror. I feel a little uneasy. I got my darling Rapunzel and this car is really coming on too fast. But it's a red light, right? Yes, it is. The car comes up just as the light turns green. I signal with my hand that I will make a left turn and start heading through the intersection.
Car is in a big hurry. They are turning left also. They kindof want to get around me and so they get over onto my right side. We both complete our turns. I would like to get into my bike lane but of course I can't. There's a Ford Explorer on that side.
The Ford Explorer is in the bike lane and I am in the car lane. The driver looks at me like "what the fuck are you doing over there" and I look at them and say with my eyes "you look fucking ridiculous in that skinny-ass bike lane over there!" A car is behind me. Another car is in front of me. And now a car on my right.
I roll my eyes. Finally the car in the bike lane manages to fall in to regular traffic behind me and I move over into the bike lane.
What's the moral here kids? Don't be in such a goddamned hurry and you won't end up trying to force a camel through the eye of a needle. Sheesh.
My route is a short carefully selected trip down a quiet back road, right onto a busier road with a good bike lane, and then, the one tricky part, I have to get over to the left so that I can make a left hand turn onto yet another road with a bike lane.
It's not that tricky. The left hand turn is at an intersection with a traffic light and I choose to go left here because I feel having that light makes it just a little safer for me. Usually.
We come to where we make the easy right hand turn and there are no cars in either direction. Cool. I bike a ways up this road and start to approach where I want to make my left hand turn. Still no cars. Cool. Also the light ahead of me is red, so even if there were cars not like they'd be slowed down a lot. I get over to the left side of the lane and head up the last few yards to the red light.
A car comes up behind me. I watch them approach in my rear mirror. I feel a little uneasy. I got my darling Rapunzel and this car is really coming on too fast. But it's a red light, right? Yes, it is. The car comes up just as the light turns green. I signal with my hand that I will make a left turn and start heading through the intersection.
Car is in a big hurry. They are turning left also. They kindof want to get around me and so they get over onto my right side. We both complete our turns. I would like to get into my bike lane but of course I can't. There's a Ford Explorer on that side.
The Ford Explorer is in the bike lane and I am in the car lane. The driver looks at me like "what the fuck are you doing over there" and I look at them and say with my eyes "you look fucking ridiculous in that skinny-ass bike lane over there!" A car is behind me. Another car is in front of me. And now a car on my right.
I roll my eyes. Finally the car in the bike lane manages to fall in to regular traffic behind me and I move over into the bike lane.
What's the moral here kids? Don't be in such a goddamned hurry and you won't end up trying to force a camel through the eye of a needle. Sheesh.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
You're In California. Be Nice.
I saw the subject line of this post in a cafe in Morro Bay, California. You're In California. Be Nice."
So a few shout-outs for the nice Californians. And one to a not-so-nice wannabe hipster.
To the lady in the green sedan at the Bryant Street traffic circle who was nearly clipped by the Denali that ran the two stop signs. We exchanged a look. We both felt lucky to be alive. Then you smiled at me and waved that I should go in front of you. That was super nice. I hope the rest of your commute was peaceful.
To the lady driving the ginormous Lincoln Navigator who must have realized that riding by me on that narrow street would be like having a 16 wheeler go by. You gave me enough room and drove kindof slowly. Because of that you missed the light. Which should have been ok because you wanted to turn right. Yet you couldn't turn right because that dirt bag bicyclist somehow managed to take up so much space that you couldn't go around. You didn't complain, you just waited. Classy.
To that dirtbag bicyclist. Have a heart. Would it kill you to move over a little so that the car hoping to turn right onto a deserted road can do that? Also that pink plastic kiddy basket you stuck onto the front of your bicycle does not make you look like a hipster. It makes you look like a pedophile.
So a few shout-outs for the nice Californians. And one to a not-so-nice wannabe hipster.
To the lady in the green sedan at the Bryant Street traffic circle who was nearly clipped by the Denali that ran the two stop signs. We exchanged a look. We both felt lucky to be alive. Then you smiled at me and waved that I should go in front of you. That was super nice. I hope the rest of your commute was peaceful.
To the lady driving the ginormous Lincoln Navigator who must have realized that riding by me on that narrow street would be like having a 16 wheeler go by. You gave me enough room and drove kindof slowly. Because of that you missed the light. Which should have been ok because you wanted to turn right. Yet you couldn't turn right because that dirt bag bicyclist somehow managed to take up so much space that you couldn't go around. You didn't complain, you just waited. Classy.
To that dirtbag bicyclist. Have a heart. Would it kill you to move over a little so that the car hoping to turn right onto a deserted road can do that? Also that pink plastic kiddy basket you stuck onto the front of your bicycle does not make you look like a hipster. It makes you look like a pedophile.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
those funny white and yellow lines on the road
I am an unapologetic liker of bike lanes. You found me. Done. Yes. I like them. I like riding in them and I think it's one of those situations where more is better.
I think cars who spend time with bike lanes like them also, or should. When bicyclists are not in a bike lane they seem unpredictable. They're in an area that was scoped out for a single car width. A bicyclist in the car lane translates to "on your turf and now there is less for you" if you are a car. Bike lanes mark out a territory for a bike and that gives a car the happy feeling that they won't be fucked with. A bike lane means cars never have to deal with that frustrating but legal thing where a bike "takes" (hahahaha, as if we could take a lane..) a lane to avoid having a car door opened in our faces.
Bicycle lanes are like a truce among a powerful nation and a far frailer one. You get 90% of the road and we bicyclists get...the bit on the side that fills up with trash where we never bother repaving.
There are a few annoying bits that I'd like to call out.
Dear Cars held up by Massive Construction traffic taking place all over the Stanford campus:
Yes, this sucks for you. Yes your commute is botched. Yes you can see that green light up ahead and you know the traffic is not moving and you are totally freaked out. Yes you are very unhappy and misunderstood.
I'm sympathetic, I really am. I mean, nothing like this ever happens to me (I commute via bicycle, traffic for me is getting dusted by an ambitious roadie) but I'm still sympathetic because California is exerting it's niceness on me.
However.
Please please please don't cope with your misery by pouring yourself into my skinny little bike lane in a vain attempt to advance your car four or five inches. Please don't turn on your signal indicator and then lean over and block the bike lane even though you will not be able to turn off for another three miles and traffic is at a standstill.
What you have: two fat SUV sized car lanes and a ton of traffic.
What I have: one skinny bicycle sized lane covered in broken glass and other trash you tossed from your car or created when you were having an accident.. and no traffic at all.
What I want: for you to stay on your side of the line, mkay?
It is seriously unpleasant to be riding along beside a parking lot of cars and I am pedaling cheerfully towards the green light that I at least will have zero trouble making (your problems are not my problems, admit it) and then get some ponderous elephant of a Lincoln Navigator rolling one big fat wheel over the line and entirely closing off my lane so I have to worm my way around it and also risk getting squished.
I think cars who spend time with bike lanes like them also, or should. When bicyclists are not in a bike lane they seem unpredictable. They're in an area that was scoped out for a single car width. A bicyclist in the car lane translates to "on your turf and now there is less for you" if you are a car. Bike lanes mark out a territory for a bike and that gives a car the happy feeling that they won't be fucked with. A bike lane means cars never have to deal with that frustrating but legal thing where a bike "takes" (hahahaha, as if we could take a lane..) a lane to avoid having a car door opened in our faces.
Bicycle lanes are like a truce among a powerful nation and a far frailer one. You get 90% of the road and we bicyclists get...the bit on the side that fills up with trash where we never bother repaving.
There are a few annoying bits that I'd like to call out.
Dear Cars held up by Massive Construction traffic taking place all over the Stanford campus:
Yes, this sucks for you. Yes your commute is botched. Yes you can see that green light up ahead and you know the traffic is not moving and you are totally freaked out. Yes you are very unhappy and misunderstood.
I'm sympathetic, I really am. I mean, nothing like this ever happens to me (I commute via bicycle, traffic for me is getting dusted by an ambitious roadie) but I'm still sympathetic because California is exerting it's niceness on me.
However.
Please please please don't cope with your misery by pouring yourself into my skinny little bike lane in a vain attempt to advance your car four or five inches. Please don't turn on your signal indicator and then lean over and block the bike lane even though you will not be able to turn off for another three miles and traffic is at a standstill.
What you have: two fat SUV sized car lanes and a ton of traffic.
What I have: one skinny bicycle sized lane covered in broken glass and other trash you tossed from your car or created when you were having an accident.. and no traffic at all.
What I want: for you to stay on your side of the line, mkay?
It is seriously unpleasant to be riding along beside a parking lot of cars and I am pedaling cheerfully towards the green light that I at least will have zero trouble making (your problems are not my problems, admit it) and then get some ponderous elephant of a Lincoln Navigator rolling one big fat wheel over the line and entirely closing off my lane so I have to worm my way around it and also risk getting squished.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
please don't talk to me.
I got this thing about certain bicyclists who ride in a certain way. This thing is called I-Hate-You-You-Suck. I'm not proud of this thing I have but it seems time to own up to it as for whatever reason I encountered a bunch of it this week.
The bicyclists in question are usually mediocre to slow. If you figure that I am no bicycle racer and only ride about a hundred miles a week and that these are bicyclists I can smoke you get a sense for their performance. It is not their speed that I loathe, however. It's their rudeness. Yes. Rude. Plenty of rude cars out there sure but I expect jack shit from cars. I expect fractionally more from bicyclists and most of the time I get it and when I do not get this tiny bit more of non-rudeness I am not happy.
Situation #1. I pass one of these on Bryant Street because these guys are (and they are almost always guys)...slow. I'm going to name this particular guy DB short for Douchebag of course. Because he's about as useful as a certain feminine hygiene product foisted off on the American female population to stuff up their vaginas . give them yeast infections, dry them out, and generally decrease their pleasure in sex.
The road ahead has a 4-way stop that is just outside of a school. There are cars at this 4-way waiting and taking turns and crossing the intersection in an orderly manner. When I get to the intersection I stop also and when it is my turn I continue through the intersection.
DB knows that stopping at intersections where people are waiting is for idiots so he just barrels on through. "I hate you Douchebag" I think to myself. "You fuck things up for the rest of us." He's still behind me because no matter how many people he treats rudely at intersections well, he's still a slow lame bicyclist.
I approach another intersection to a far busier road. This time I have a stop sign (as does Douchebag) and the cross traffic has the right of way. I stop at the stop sign. There are cars coming by so I pause and wait for a good opening in the traffic so I can cross the road and make my left turn and continue on my way.
DB knows that stopping is for pussies so before getting to the stop sign he heads over to the bicycle lane for traffic going in the other direction. Ah yes. Problem solved. No need to stop now because there is no immediate need to get across the street Hopefully no bicyclists will come around the corner but cross that bridge when you come to it. Just turn left into the bicycle lane. The bicycle lane that is for people heading in the other direction but whatever, right?
I've now crossed the street in the more usual fashion and am heading up the road in the correct bike lane.
DB works his way out to the middle of the oncoming car lane. A station wagon swerves around him. Now he is heading diagonally across the next car lane, he's on a collision course with me. I pick it up (thankfully Douchebag is slow as ever) and he falls in behind me. But of course red lights mean nothing to the Douchebags of the world so he breezes by me at the first one we encounter. And the second one. And (yes really) the third. Each time I have to pass him because he is so s l o w.
At the fourth red I want to turn a right but Douchebag (who plans to go straight) is blocking the entire lane. I gently maneuver around him so I can take a right, and I'm glad I won't see this loser again for awhile at least. That's when he says it. Or mutters it. He meets my eye and offers a toad-like smile and says:
"Morning"
My face has the same expression that it takes on when I spot maggots in the compost. I do not say anything at all.
What I think:
1. don't talk to me. Ever.
2. is that your face or did your neck explode?
3. you are such a shitty bicyclist.
4. you are so goddamned rude I almost want to push you off your bicycle and throw it under a car.
5. see #1
The bicyclists in question are usually mediocre to slow. If you figure that I am no bicycle racer and only ride about a hundred miles a week and that these are bicyclists I can smoke you get a sense for their performance. It is not their speed that I loathe, however. It's their rudeness. Yes. Rude. Plenty of rude cars out there sure but I expect jack shit from cars. I expect fractionally more from bicyclists and most of the time I get it and when I do not get this tiny bit more of non-rudeness I am not happy.
Situation #1. I pass one of these on Bryant Street because these guys are (and they are almost always guys)...slow. I'm going to name this particular guy DB short for Douchebag of course. Because he's about as useful as a certain feminine hygiene product foisted off on the American female population to stuff up their vaginas . give them yeast infections, dry them out, and generally decrease their pleasure in sex.
The road ahead has a 4-way stop that is just outside of a school. There are cars at this 4-way waiting and taking turns and crossing the intersection in an orderly manner. When I get to the intersection I stop also and when it is my turn I continue through the intersection.
DB knows that stopping at intersections where people are waiting is for idiots so he just barrels on through. "I hate you Douchebag" I think to myself. "You fuck things up for the rest of us." He's still behind me because no matter how many people he treats rudely at intersections well, he's still a slow lame bicyclist.
I approach another intersection to a far busier road. This time I have a stop sign (as does Douchebag) and the cross traffic has the right of way. I stop at the stop sign. There are cars coming by so I pause and wait for a good opening in the traffic so I can cross the road and make my left turn and continue on my way.
DB knows that stopping is for pussies so before getting to the stop sign he heads over to the bicycle lane for traffic going in the other direction. Ah yes. Problem solved. No need to stop now because there is no immediate need to get across the street Hopefully no bicyclists will come around the corner but cross that bridge when you come to it. Just turn left into the bicycle lane. The bicycle lane that is for people heading in the other direction but whatever, right?
I've now crossed the street in the more usual fashion and am heading up the road in the correct bike lane.
DB works his way out to the middle of the oncoming car lane. A station wagon swerves around him. Now he is heading diagonally across the next car lane, he's on a collision course with me. I pick it up (thankfully Douchebag is slow as ever) and he falls in behind me. But of course red lights mean nothing to the Douchebags of the world so he breezes by me at the first one we encounter. And the second one. And (yes really) the third. Each time I have to pass him because he is so s l o w.
At the fourth red I want to turn a right but Douchebag (who plans to go straight) is blocking the entire lane. I gently maneuver around him so I can take a right, and I'm glad I won't see this loser again for awhile at least. That's when he says it. Or mutters it. He meets my eye and offers a toad-like smile and says:
"Morning"
My face has the same expression that it takes on when I spot maggots in the compost. I do not say anything at all.
What I think:
1. don't talk to me. Ever.
2. is that your face or did your neck explode?
3. you are such a shitty bicyclist.
4. you are so goddamned rude I almost want to push you off your bicycle and throw it under a car.
5. see #1
Monday, September 12, 2011
a first. a first for a second?
I know that history repeats itself. I know I'll have more bummers with cars in a rush, more terrors with drivers texting and more wet seats from 16 wheelers bleeding over into the bike lane because they've been on the road for seventy three hours ....but I had not considered that I would have yet another run-in with this guy.
1. Same maroon Prius (the colors of shit and death)
2. Same spot, the right hand turn lane from Rengstorff onto Charleston.
3. Same asshole move. I'm in the lane for the right hand turn (because go figure, I want to make a fucking right hand turn) and this ugly motherfucker behaves as if I am invisible and nearly crushes me to death.
4. Same moronic vanity plate. HYBRIDE. Oooo. I tremble at your wit and your environmental generosity.
My memory is excellent which is why when Shit'N'Death turns into a parking lot I know he's blowing off the mild traffic at the red light on the corner. He cuts across the parking lot and heads out the far side. Douche.
So let's get a few things straight Mr. I-Drive-Like-a-Gangrenous-Testicle-on-Meth:
I don't like you. You don't see me because I'm small and beneath your notice but I sure as fuck see you in your dumb ugly car. That big roll of fat around your neck stippled with patchy beard looks like someone dipped a bagel in a vat of pubic hair. You don't have a face so much as a neck that's exploded.
You're disgusting. We all hate you and on some level? I think you know it. And that's why you're such a mean prick.
Cheers,
Chafed (marriage has not changed her entirely)
1. Same maroon Prius (the colors of shit and death)
2. Same spot, the right hand turn lane from Rengstorff onto Charleston.
3. Same asshole move. I'm in the lane for the right hand turn (because go figure, I want to make a fucking right hand turn) and this ugly motherfucker behaves as if I am invisible and nearly crushes me to death.
4. Same moronic vanity plate. HYBRIDE. Oooo. I tremble at your wit and your environmental generosity.
My memory is excellent which is why when Shit'N'Death turns into a parking lot I know he's blowing off the mild traffic at the red light on the corner. He cuts across the parking lot and heads out the far side. Douche.
So let's get a few things straight Mr. I-Drive-Like-a-Gangrenous-Testicle-on-Meth:
I don't like you. You don't see me because I'm small and beneath your notice but I sure as fuck see you in your dumb ugly car. That big roll of fat around your neck stippled with patchy beard looks like someone dipped a bagel in a vat of pubic hair. You don't have a face so much as a neck that's exploded.
You're disgusting. We all hate you and on some level? I think you know it. And that's why you're such a mean prick.
Cheers,
Chafed (marriage has not changed her entirely)
Honeymoon in Paradise
"Can you imagine a world without men? No crime and lots of happy fat women."
~Attributed to both Marion Smith and Nicole Hollander
I like guys. If there were no men I wouldn't be fat or happy. Men do interesting stuff like this --- my working theory is that girls/women just don't get horny enough to produce love songs using old appliances for instruments. We need guys for such flights of delightful abandon.
...but can you imagine a world without cars?
Yes. Here's a hint:
It's full of (fairly athletic) happy bicyclists.
The only cars (excepting ambulances and fire engines and other emergency vehicles) allowed would be visually interesting and their top speed would be five mph. Seriously.
Who would live in such a place? I mean, no cars?
Every year about 50,000 people spend a week in this place, and they pay money to do so because it is so gigantically awesome.
I'll take Q&A now.
Q: Wow, with all those bicyclists, there must be a lot of bad accidents.
A: Actually no. It's so safe to bicycle without cars that no one bothers with a helmet. Turns out the only reason for most bicyclists to wear a helmet is to give their head a little protection if they get creamed by an Escalade.
Q: Bicyclists are such assholes. I bet they're even worse about running stop signs.
A: There are no stop signs.
Q: They run red lights then.
A: No red lights either.
Q: What? That's so damn dangerous! You make it sound as if there are no road rules.
A: There are no road rules. No traffic lights and no stop signs and no problems. Turns out that we only need all of that stuff because cars are gigantic disgusting hurtling death machines. But thanks for playing.
Q: So where is this supposed place?
A: Black Rock City in Nevada.
Yes. I'm one of those people. One of those miscreants who goes to Burning Man every year. This is the post in which I out myself and in which I show why my Contraption Captain (now the Contraption Captain Husband, yay!) is one of the Contraption-est Captains out there.
You see, some people go to Burning Man for the drugs, some for the parties, and some for the nudity and some go to extract their own DNA and put it into a cute necklace. But plenty of us go for the bicycling. You can ride anywhere in BRC and you don't need a helmet (unless you decorated it with Viking horns or rabbit ears and want to feel pretty) and you don't need to worry about being turned to paste by an over-zealous teenager in a Ford Explorer.
Q: But isn't that thing in the desert?
A: Yes. I'm sorry to say that cars have taken over most of the inhabited world and so this small ugly-car-free area is all that is left. It's desert.
Q: What good is a bicycle in the desert?
A: It's great! Not so much road bikes but anything with fat tires is pretty solid. Of course I'm a conscientious mom and the Contraption Captain loves a challenge so we take things to a new level. Literally. Our general around the playa vehicle is two stories of pedal-powered splendor. The dirt track tires (free at any dirt track in case you're curious) are perfect for all playa conditions, soft wet or hard. The top tier affords children an unparalleled view of all the best burns and all riders and passengers enjoy several layers of shade protection from the sun. We got cup holders and a glove compartment and a portal first aid kit. And of course every giant family tricycle needs tons of beautiful programmable LED lights to make it visible when we go out dancing.
Q: What's it like to return from Burning Man?
A: Not so great. You can't see how cars are fucking up your life until you get a little distance from them. On the playa the kids can just get on their bikes and ride around. You don't need to worry when you cross the street. You don't need to put gas in your car and you don't need to inhale fumes from all the cars around you. It's one week of not worrying that a distracted person holding a cell phone will kill you. It's one week of beauty.
~Attributed to both Marion Smith and Nicole Hollander
I like guys. If there were no men I wouldn't be fat or happy. Men do interesting stuff like this --- my working theory is that girls/women just don't get horny enough to produce love songs using old appliances for instruments. We need guys for such flights of delightful abandon.
...but can you imagine a world without cars?
Yes. Here's a hint:
It's full of (fairly athletic) happy bicyclists.
The only cars (excepting ambulances and fire engines and other emergency vehicles) allowed would be visually interesting and their top speed would be five mph. Seriously.
Who would live in such a place? I mean, no cars?
Every year about 50,000 people spend a week in this place, and they pay money to do so because it is so gigantically awesome.
I'll take Q&A now.
Q: Wow, with all those bicyclists, there must be a lot of bad accidents.
A: Actually no. It's so safe to bicycle without cars that no one bothers with a helmet. Turns out the only reason for most bicyclists to wear a helmet is to give their head a little protection if they get creamed by an Escalade.
Q: Bicyclists are such assholes. I bet they're even worse about running stop signs.
A: There are no stop signs.
Q: They run red lights then.
A: No red lights either.
Q: What? That's so damn dangerous! You make it sound as if there are no road rules.
A: There are no road rules. No traffic lights and no stop signs and no problems. Turns out that we only need all of that stuff because cars are gigantic disgusting hurtling death machines. But thanks for playing.
Q: So where is this supposed place?
A: Black Rock City in Nevada.
Yes. I'm one of those people. One of those miscreants who goes to Burning Man every year. This is the post in which I out myself and in which I show why my Contraption Captain (now the Contraption Captain Husband, yay!) is one of the Contraption-est Captains out there.
You see, some people go to Burning Man for the drugs, some for the parties, and some for the nudity and some go to extract their own DNA and put it into a cute necklace. But plenty of us go for the bicycling. You can ride anywhere in BRC and you don't need a helmet (unless you decorated it with Viking horns or rabbit ears and want to feel pretty) and you don't need to worry about being turned to paste by an over-zealous teenager in a Ford Explorer.
Q: But isn't that thing in the desert?
A: Yes. I'm sorry to say that cars have taken over most of the inhabited world and so this small ugly-car-free area is all that is left. It's desert.
Q: What good is a bicycle in the desert?
A: It's great! Not so much road bikes but anything with fat tires is pretty solid. Of course I'm a conscientious mom and the Contraption Captain loves a challenge so we take things to a new level. Literally. Our general around the playa vehicle is two stories of pedal-powered splendor. The dirt track tires (free at any dirt track in case you're curious) are perfect for all playa conditions, soft wet or hard. The top tier affords children an unparalleled view of all the best burns and all riders and passengers enjoy several layers of shade protection from the sun. We got cup holders and a glove compartment and a portal first aid kit. And of course every giant family tricycle needs tons of beautiful programmable LED lights to make it visible when we go out dancing.
Q: What's it like to return from Burning Man?
A: Not so great. You can't see how cars are fucking up your life until you get a little distance from them. On the playa the kids can just get on their bikes and ride around. You don't need to worry when you cross the street. You don't need to put gas in your car and you don't need to inhale fumes from all the cars around you. It's one week of not worrying that a distracted person holding a cell phone will kill you. It's one week of beauty.
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