A TALE OF TWO BIKE RIDES

By Jill Smolinski

            For years I’ve been taking other people’s word for it that commuting by bicycle is the way to go.  Sure, I know it’s good for cutting traffic and smog.  But in car-loving Southern California, is riding to work really feasible?  This year, in honor of Bike to Work Day coming up in May, I’ve decided I’m going to find out for myself.
            This is nothing I take lightly.  For starters, I live a good 25 miles from the office.  Secondly, I may own a bike, but my cycling experience has been pretty much limited to spinning classes the gym.  As I consider putting wheels to real pavement, I can’t help but worry:  will I be able to mix with LA’s notorious traffic and live to tell the tale?
            I give my road test two days so I’ll have the chance to test both riding at length as well as how it works to take a bike on board transit.  Here’s how it goes:

Day 1

The Plan:  Ride four miles from Hermosa Beach to the Marine Metro Rail station, and then bring my bike on board.
            Because Metro Rail restricts the hours for passengers with bikes, I learn I must travel either before 6 a.m. or after 9 a.m.—a decision I wrestle with for roughly 4.3 seconds before choosing the latter.

The Preparation:  Apparently I need a permit to bring my bike on board Metro Rail.  Friends regale me with countless horror stories about the impossibility of getting one in anything less than a fortnight.  It is therefore with trepidation that I head to a Metro ticket office, where I fill out a brief form, show ID, and to my surprise am issued a temporary permit on the spot.
            On the morning of the ride, it’s just a quick check for tire pressure, trading my heels for sneakers, buckling my helmet, and
            …Off I go!
            8:30 a.m.  I opt to ride the same route that I usually drive to the station.  After pedaling for only minutes, I am convinced that “Hermosa” must be Spanish for “land of many hills.”  I’m huffing before I ever leave city borders (so much for those spinning classes).
            8:40 a.m.  I begin to regret that bottle of Snapple and hardback edition of Roots now making my backpack feel like a water buffalo is hitching a ride.  I detour a few blocks from my route to empty all nonessentials from my backpack on a friend’s porch.
            8:45 a.m.  The ride smoothes out.  It’s a rare sunny day, and I’m in Sunday afternoon cruise mode.  I find myself at the station before I know it.
            Once on board the Metro train, the trip passes without incident, including a transfer at the Rosa Parks station.  Admittedly, it’s a bit clunky navigating my way through even the sparse crowds waiting to board the train.  I can’t imagine trying to do this at rush hour.
            10 a.m.  At my building, I’m relegated to the freight elevator to bring my bike up to my office—even after I explain that no, I’m not a messenger girl.

The Trip Home:  A piece of cake.  It’s the next ride, to be honest, that has me nervous.

Day 2

The Plan:  Ride 25 miles from Hermosa Beach to Seventh St. & Figueroa in downtown Los Angeles
           
The Preparation:  To learn more about how to plan a route, I call Michelle Mowery, bicycle coordinator for the City of Los Angeles.  She tells me that more than the miles, my primary consideration should be how comfortable I am mixing with traffic.  An avid cyclist herself, she says, “I always take the most direct route, but fledgling riders should look for wide streets and areas where traffic volumes are lower—even if that makes the trip a bit longer.”
            Poring over a City of LA bike map, I map out a route that takes me up along the beach to Marina del Rey, at which point I’ll take Venice Blvd. with its promise of bike lanes nearly all the way downtown.
            Mowery also suggests that I drive the route, “thinking like a cyclist…checking for potholes, traffic and so on.”  It is excellent advice, which I ignore because I’m eager to get biking the next day.  I do, however, drop $39 for a tune-up at a local shop to make sure my bike is in road-ready shape.
            6:15 a.m.  I head out and this time it’s all downhill (literally) at first, giving me time to warm up.  As I cruise along the strand, I wave to passing joggers.  Surfers dot the ocean.  The morning mist feels good on my face, and I think how lucky I am to live in Southern California.  Then I laugh as I wonder when the last time was I thought that while commuting and realize…never.
            6:50 a.m.  Somehow I’m lost and I’m in regular street traffic.  I was merely trying to turn from the beach path onto Venice Blvd., but there’s no Venice to be found—and certainly no bike path.  Cars squeeze past me close enough I swear I can feel their curb feelers tickling my ankles.
            7 a.m.  Still lost.  I spot a Harley rider filling up at a service station.  Although his bike has a motor, nonetheless, I sense a kindred spirit.  When I ask him how I can find Venice Blvd., he points to a side street that will take me there.  Not eager to get lost again, I verify that I, indeed, turn right to head downtown.  He rubs his beard, clearly sizing me up.  “It’s a long way to downtown,” he says.
            I nod solemnly and reply, “I know.”
            7:15 a.m.  Finally, I’m getting some real road under my wheels, and it’s exhilarating to get in my workout and actually get somewhere.  There are even stretches of road where I’m cruising faster than the cars.  Although letting my eyes wander to take in the sights, such as they are on Venice Blvd., I stay alert.  I follow Mowery’s advice to keep to the outside bike lane to avoid doors on parked cars that might swing open.  She’s also cautioned about right-turners.  (“Make sure you catch their eyes,’ she’d said, words I find wise to heed.)
            At one point, a group of cyclists pass me on the left, clad in spiffy spandex ensembles and riding bikes as lean as greyhounds.  Although I long to join them as I chug along, they’re a distant memory within minutes.  I’m again one of the few cyclists on the road.
            8:15 a.m.  It’s the two-hour mark.  My legs are starting to ask me when they can stop.  Just as I’m yearning for a sign that this ride will indeed end, I come around a bend and I see it:  Downtown LA, rising in the distance like Avalon in the mist.  Knowing that I’m almost there gives me a second wind.
            8:30 a.m.  I’ve made it!  Total travel time:  two hours and 15 minutes (did I mention how I hit every light in Culver City?)  Still, I’m pleased.  I head over to my gym next door—skip the workout machines and head straight to the locker room to spiff up for work.

The Trip Home:
            Hoping to shave a few miles off the return trip, I call Metro at 1.800.COMMUTE and find a bus that will take me with my bike to the beach.  Buoyed by the phone operator’s assurances that, yes, anyone can figure out the bike rack, I head to my stop.  And although I discover that the operator lied—anyone can figure out the bike rack except me—my bus driver cheerfully climbs down to assist (in part, because he’s a swell guy, but perhaps also because he isn’t going to get very far with me standing in front of his bus).
            The last leg of my journey, a bike ride against a California sunset, is unforgettable.

Would I Do It Again?

            The whole ride into work?  Probably not, unless I get a lighter bike.  On my mountain bike, riding such a distance felt akin to running a marathon in bunny slippers:  it can be done, but why?  But I would definitely do the transit/bicycling mix again.  As for when—no better time than Bike to Work Day.  Or then again, maybe sooner.

Reproduction of this information is encouraged with the following credit:
Jill Smolinski is the author of the novel, The Next Thing on My List; visit her at jillsmolinski.com