The book undoubtedly has developed a following for its author’s pedigree; the Crawford has a PhD in Philosophy from the University of Chicago, but after only five months of work at a think-tank he chose to pursue his passion for motorcycle repair. This decision is less surprising given his childhood on a commune, which included practical electrical work, his later employment at a Porsche repair shop, and a passion for engines his whole life, including much amateur motorcycle repair.

Crawford argues that, as humans are intuitive and manual beings, we learn in nonlinear ways and our satisfaction is based on creative problem solving. To wield a tool is to transform it, and to be a mechanic is a frame of mind as much as a vocation. He claims that creativity is possible only from technical mastery; consumerism is unnatural and the opposite of craftsmanship. Crawford romanticizes the gritty skilled labor undervalued today, but only to the point that thoughtful work is being done.

His curriculum vitae, which also includes several low-level mindless office jobs in addition to his a soul-sucking high-level office job, is the greatest weakness of his argument. Crawford’s chief objection to office work is its lack of quantifiable feedback: had Crawford become an engineer instead of a philosopher, would a book of a different thrust have been written? He may still be working in an office, as part of the teams he denigrates, but his work would have the features he so elevates. More bluntly, if Crawford had been able to find a less objectionable entry-level job, perhaps he could have stayed in white collar America long enough to have responsibility and an outlet for his creativity.

The last suggestion is more rhetorical than literal; my own experience is not only of discontentedness with my job or industry, but with the form it took. Crawford makes much of the contradictions of bureaucracy, the loss of the precision of language, and the disconnection one must develop. He also posits that our educational system – as a form of sorting rather than a conduit for learning – actually harms our ability to do quantifiable work. All this I agree with, but, as a human (or an American, perhaps), I am naturally optimistic, and I assume that the failure of happy employment is one of situation rather than structure. My point is that without greater exploration one cannot garner the experience to make bold statements about the nature of all work. Yet this is ultimately Crawford’s observation about our essential humanness: when we are unable to explore whatever it is we choose to explore, we are unhappy. I humbly submit that Crawford’s book is a piece in a larger puzzle of human knowledge, but not the all-encompassing treatise it could be taken to be.

On Wednesday and Thursday I rode my bike from Somerville to Monadnock State Forest, NH and back again. The total distance was about 150 miles over the two days. The route was very direct: on a map, it was almost a straight 65 mile shot from my house to the destination: that doesn’t count hills and wrong turns, however. There were plenty of both on the trip out.

I left at about 8:45 on Wednesday. I loaded my (homemade) bags with the essentials: camping gear, a change of clothes for camp, food, water, bike tools. I estimate it was around 30 pounds of gear. See the attached image of the bike. The plan was to basically take 3 turns, as I called it: get on the minuteman trail, take route 225, then 119, then 124, and that will take me to my destination. I took a road map just in case.

The bike

The minuteman portion was uninteresting, as I’ve ridden it many times and there isn’t much scenery (and certainly none I haven’t already seen). The first leg of route 225 was also familiar to me. The road was fairly light traffic, although it had no shoulder to ride on. For this portion, I was humming along and forcing myself to stop and drink and eat at regular intervals. There were few bikers on the roads this entire day.

Eventually, route 225 takes a shimmy through suburban arterial in Littleton to get past I-495. I stopped into a bike shop there, but the staff guy wasn’t very interested in talking so I popped right back out. The scenery became more pretty as I rode: manicured farms and quaintly decorated homes.

In Groton routes 225 and 119 run together and took a right. Here the road still had no shoulder, but traffic was heavy. I stayed on this road for about 5 miles and missed my second “turn” where 225 splits again: I opted for the lightly trafficked 225 over busy 119. I didn’t realize this error until I literally hit the railroad tracks at West Groton: I didn’t think I was going to pass through that town. I sat and looked at my tiny map for a few minutes to orient myself: sure enough, I was a few miles off track, but a simple right turn at Townsend Street up ahead would right me. I got back on the bike and discovered my front tire was flat.

West Groton Dam

West Groton Bridge

Perhaps a fatal flaw with the design of my bags is that changing a flat is a pain. Normally one would flip the bike over, pull the wheel off and get to work. In this case, the bike had only two directions to go, namely upright or on its side. So I flopped the bike over and got to work.

I took the turn onto Townsend Street (rule #1 of New England roads: if a street in one town is named for another, that’s where you’re going to end up), which, once I reached Townsend, became Shirley street (named for the town I had just left). I continued riding along, and took a harmless left at a fork… and ended up in Lunenburg, solidly a good five miles off course. As I discovered the following day after a phone consultation with Rachel, the fork in the road was about a quarter mile from route 119, and only about 3 miles from my next turn to route 124.

I stopped at Lunenburg town hall, where a combination of my tiny map (”take Holman Street”), a kind gentleman (”don’t take Chestnut Street”) and the map inside town hall (”take Highland Street to” – you guessed it – “Townsend Road”) got me riding in the correct direction.

After another small detour, I was on route 124. I knew this was about 25 miles from my destination, and it was 2 pm. With only a few stops to snack, fix tires, use the bathroom, and get directions, I had been riding for 5 hours and gone about 50 miles. I figured i was home-free, but this is where the hills start – you see, New Hampshire doesn’t just have rolling hills like Eastern Massachusetts does, it has f-ing mountains. As I rode up route 124, almost as soon as I saw the sign for “Welcome to New Hampshire”, I was also crawling up a steep, steep hill for a mile. Mercifully, at the top there was a store advertising Ice Cream. Horribly, there was nobody staffing it. I rode on.

The hills began to grate: there were downhills and more uphills. I stopped for pizza (awful, but I devoured it) in New Ipswich, used the bathroom in the library, and the internet told me I had 13.8 miles to go. Shortly after, I whooped at a sign announcing Jaffrey, NH, the town with Monadnock. I got proper ice cream (at this point, there were clouds and I was cold, so I ate only half a cone), and rode on. I hit the center of Jaffrey, and kept going… and going… I could see there were large mountains in the distance, I prayed that my destination was not on the other side of them. It wasn’t: they were the destination.

When I reached the turn off for Monadnock, I let out another whoop: only 2 miles to go. It was all uphill. For one of the first times as an adult, I walked my bike up hills as my legs were screaming at me. I went up and up: it was a cruel joke that, at the end of my ride, the gate for the campground was up another hill. I powered up it. It was 5:30, and I had ridden close to 80 miles.

I forgot to mention a small detail: when I was planning my trip, I called ahead and although there were no reservations accepted, the ranger also told me they were only hoping to turn on the water at the campsite the day I was arriving. No matter, everyone would get a gallon of water when they registered, I was assured.

The rangers went home at 5 pm. While there was no one to take my money at the gate, there was also no one to give me water. The camp ground was about half full with happy car campers: I made sure to pick a site far away from a family with little children (if they’re screaming at 5:30, they’re screaming at many other times). My site was 25 feet from a faucet: with running water!

My primary instinct was to lie down and not move, but there was no place to do that, so immediately I pitched my tent. Then, I was too tired to collapse, so I made dinner. Sated, I got into my sleeping bag and shortly afterwards was sound asleep.

The next morning  I awoke with sore knees. Not “oh I can work this off” sore, but “I can barely complete a pedal stroke” sore. I chose to forge on, assuming that if the riding was unbearable I could hop the commuter rail home at many points along the route. I took a slight detour on a rail trail south and away from route 124 (I couldn’t face it again), chancing upon route 119. Route 119 had such nice, wide shoulders (every touring bicyclist’s dream), I rode it straight back into Townsend, MA, passing through the gorgeous Willard Brook State Forest (where I have thought about camping before). The route was pleasantly flat and quite uneventful coming back – I retraced the route I should have taken the prior day. By 1:30, I was past route 495 and only about 25 miles from home. I knew it would be an easy shot home, and so when Rachel offered to pick me up, I declined. Three hours later (after at least 40 minutes talking on the phone, in my defense), I rolled into the side of my house, fell off the bike, and declared the ride over.

See some more pictures in the Gallery for this post.

My friend Julia was in town this weekend, and I wanted to post about some of the touristy things we did. Here is a short list of our activities.

1. Institute of Contemporary Art (ICA). This is in a cute, modern building in the Waterfront District a short hop from downtown. They have a four story building, but only one of those stories is galleries. One is closed to the public, a third screens (art) films, and the bottom story is the gift shop and cafe (museum necessities!).

We enjoyed one exhibit a lot – the one from their permanent collection – and the rotating exhibit less so. I know art is a personal choice, so I won’t bother you with the details, however I thought the museum was really world-class quality. Definitely will visit again when the exhibition rotates.

2. Harpoon Brewery Tour. A little more my speed. Not in the goofy frat boy way that the tour guide means it, but in the fun, bite-sized educational, beer tasting and open bar way. This is my second time taking this tour (I think last year I also went on Super Bowl weekend!), and it continually increases my respect for Harpoon Beer. They just make good beer, and a lot of their brews are hard to find – if you haven’t sampled some or all, definitely go here to discover new and delicious flavors to seek out. Also, they have a rotating “100 Cask” series which this time was “Maple Syrup Ale” (not gross – I bought some) and last time was oyster flavored (sounds intriguing, but not my diet). Also, they sell growlers (64 ounces of beer straight off the keg and into the kind of jar that holds moonshine in cartoons) of all their beers.

3. Freedom Trail. Boston is “America’s Walking City,” and whoever decides these things is right. My impression is that the Freedom trail is a really nicely sized walk – I think it’s 5 miles and took us about two and a half hours to do, without stopping at the museums, but getting some food at Quincy Market). It is also very well spaced, so you walk a few hundred yards before getting to the next stop, with lots to occupy the eye and mind in between. Highly recommend King’s Church and Old North Church – I have never seen others like them. Minus is that if you continue to Charlestown, you have to figure out how to get back (we walked to the Bunker Hill T Stop, which is a half a mile north and west of the Bunker Hill Monument). Be aware that the Bunker Hill monument steps close when there’s ice, which we had. May have to go up that. I like observatories.

4. Harvard Museum of Natural History. They seem to have either killed or dug up at least one of everything on earth: there are so many stuffed animals here you feel like Charles Darwin. I learned that ungulates are animals which walk on a small number of enlarged toes (horses, camels, elephants, etc.). I then proceeded to point out every ungulate in the museum. There are other parts of this museum, including the glass flowers (they look like real flowers–really real, actually–but are glass!), a cool gem collection, and some other more “modern” and educational exhibits. I still haven’t explored the Peabody (the Anthropology half of the museum), so this needs yet another visit.

5. New England Aquarium. It’s an aquarium, so it’s pretty cool. Since I went here right after the Natural History Museum, it was funny to see the stuffed animals swimming around. The penguins were pretty lethargic, having been fed when we got there late, and then falling asleep by the time the aquarium closed. Lots of cool fish to see in the gigantic tank. An octopus apparently so smart (according to the young man shooing us out of the building), that it would sneak out of its tank and eat the fish in the neighboring tank at night. Again, didn’t have enough time here, so all the side tanks were neglected. Penguins are cute.

It turns out there’s a lot to see in Boston. You really could spend quite a few days here just hitting the tourist things (and it’s winter, so I’m not counting the sweet outdoor activities Boston has to offer). So, my friends, next time you visit, give yourself two weeks and lots of advanced notice so we can hang out.

I’m sure this is mostly a matter of concern among technophiles, but I have been noticing the irritating effects of what may be deemed the Web 2.0 edition of Eternal September. Since the advent of blogs and commenting, people who could never write a web page have been able to make their voices heard. As a result, and perhaps this has accelerated with increased familiarity with public comments and a continued decline of decorum, every newspaper and widely read blog post have a full gamut of obnoxious comments.

You need only head over to your favorite news outlet — mine are the New York Times, Streetsblog, Boston.com, and (hilariously) the Anti-Planner — to see the trend in action. An article on deficits? Responses demand greater spending on entitlements, an end of entitlements, the stupidity of the Tea party, the stupidity of democrats, the stupidity of man, the decline of man, nostalgic pieces, and — inevitably — ad hominem attacks against anyone and everyone.

I can sympathize with the urge: you read something you don’t like, you see that little box, and start typing away whatever thoughts happen to be in your head at the moment. However, I have a feeling few people go back and read the responses to their diatribes. When I do, I usually swear off commenting for a while, because they are scathing and remind you that, perhaps, you don’t know as much as you think, and certainly the anonymous forums on the New York Times website are the wrong venue to explore those thoughts.

So, perhaps we need a new commenting feature: the timeout. After you submit a comment, the comment goes into limbo for five minutes, after which you are forced to reread it before asking for it to be posted. This gives you the opportunity to both read other people’s thoughts (”Oh, hadn’t thought of that.” or “Oh, already been said!”) and realize that your wit is somewhat less sharp than it seemed when you first composed the comment. In the short term, this might have a negative commercial effect (people load the page less because they give up commenting), but over the longer term, smarter discussions will increase the time people spend reading and responding.

We rode (frantically) to Back Bay, and got on the train just in time. We took it to Route 128 and then discovered that we were in what felt like the middle of nowhere (it didn’t help that this is Labor Day weekend so there is no traffic or other activity whatsoever.) We consulted the map and discovered that you can’t get across the tracks to Green Lodge Rd (which would cut 2 miles off the trip). Just to make sure, we consulted with the Amtrak ticketing agents, who comically pulled out a map of, well, all of Eastern Massachusetts, which did nothing to help us find a non-car route past the interstate.

The route we took from Route 128 station  was University Ave south, Canton Rd East, Elm Street North, Green Lodge East, and Washington Street north to the trailside museum. This was not a very nice choice, as Canton is rather busy and narrow,  but Washington Street is a very busy road which crosses Route 93 with basically no provision for bikes. The traffic moves very quickly, and despite the holiday was very heavy.

The reservation itself is very nice, and rather small; I think you could probably hike the entire length in a full day. As it was, we basically did the red dot trail up to the brick observation tower and came back. The views are spectacular with Boston rising up and then disappearing into trees, and the long coastline and many islands in the bay. It was funny to see my office building in the skyline, knowing that you can look out those windows and easily pick out this exact point, too.

On the trip back to Boston, we aimed to take the T from Hyde Park. Again, we timed it perfectly, but discovered that there are quite a few Commuter Rail stations in that immediate vicinity; we rode excitedly to Fairmount station, only to discover no trains (especially the one we were looking for) stopped there on the weekend. With minutes until our train, we sped a few blocks over to Hyde Park station, a couple minutes before the train pulled in. However, our error took us onto Truman Parkway, which has a separated, widely paved bike lane which I believe to be part of the Neponset River Greenway (which you can take, in sections, all the way to UMass Boston).

The correct route would have been Washington Street North, right at Canton Street, left at Atherton street, right at Brush Hill Road (you could also get on Brush Hill right after turning on to Canton if you please, and then left at Fairmount, which continues left into River and then directly to the T. This route is quite pleasant and scenic all the way until Fairmount Street, although I imagine the detour by way of Brush Hill would have also been pretty. Brush Hill would have also taken you right to Readville Station, although that sees less traffic, it seems.

Today the plan is to go to the Fells by way of the Orange line; once you arrive at Oak Grove, it is a pretty short trip (15 minutes walking I read) to get to the park.

• While as popular as last year, I felt that this year people were better behaved. There was still plenty of aggressive biking, but most people seemed to be more relaxed than in the past.
• There need to be more repair stations and more people showing bike basics, such as “how to wear your helmet”, “inflate your tires”, “adjust your seat height”, and, my favorite, “oil your chain”. I saw so many people with underinflated tires (and I told them so), but at least as many with horrible fit who just didn’t seem comfortable, and probably had a lot of knee pain as a result.
• The pool looked both fun and moderately used. I would go in it if I had a buddy. Also, there were a lot of pretty ladies.
• Why does it end at 1 pm? More importantly, why does it begin at 7am? If Germany can close an entire freeway for 30 miles for pedestrians for a day, New York can close an unnecessary avenue for more than 6 hours.

Some other thoughts that came to me.

• New York is kicking butt with its new infrastructure. Downtown, a lot of the route had bike lanes. I rode over to Brooklyn and discovered all the work that has gone into the Brooklyn Bridge park, which extends for miles along the waterfront. You can ride on paths from the Brooklyn Bridge almost unbroken to Red Hook; there are many more on-street lanes (unintimidating ones) that go in other directions.
• The Brooklyn Bridge crams too many people into too little space. While cars fly by in six lanes, thousands of people are stuck bursting out of the path. I say, close a lane on the bridge, make it a bike lane, and dedicate the entire path to pedestrians. (If you want to bike up to the observation points, you’ll have to walk, sorry.)
• Boston has nothing on New York for bike infrastructure. And there’s no reason but politics.

A few of my activities in the last eight months:

• Full time bike commuting. I can’t say it’s 100% figured out, but I’m pretty far along. While I have a gym membership to change/shower, I have rarely used it the last few months; I now wear my office pants, and just throw on the shirt when I get there. Sweat isn’t a problem (a big one anyway, even in the high humidity and warmth of the heat waves), as I just ride slowly. I put my gear in a bag and the bag on a rack, so there’s no gross sweaty patch on my back. Leave the heavy lock on a rack at the destination. This also includes doing everything by bike, challenges be damned: just strap the thing to the bike rack. Just today, I moved a bike (!) on my rack, which was surprisingly not so challenging (definitely use a front rack only; probably best to use zip ties, not bungees next time…). I wish someone had taken a picture so I could send it to CETMA.
• Volunteering. I have been putting in regular hours with Bikes Not Bombs on Wednesdays for their volunteer night: stripping parts off donated bikes or flattening bikes for shipping. I have a mental block against sorting small parts, so I now avoid it at all costs. Also, yesterday I went to do mechanic work for Boston Cyclists Union, mostly fixing brakes and shifting issues on a street corner. Finally, I am getting involved in bike advocacy: I have been attending Livable Streets advocacy meetings to get more infrastructure, the Somerville Bike Committee (what they do, I’m still working on figuring out… no offense guys), and also looking forward to doing some Boston Cyclists Union stuff as well. I especially like the approach of the latter, because it is organizing the public to push for the infrastructure, versus working political channels to sneak it in (bureaucrats don’t like doing the right thing when it’s more work).
• Bike work. I’ve got a reputation among my friends as a mechanic, so I’ve been helping people get set up with bikes and the associated gear. Rachel got me a stand, so now I can do this stuff in a relaxed way; my mom got me a truing stand and a wheel to build. Now I’m considering whether to get the rest of the bike toolkit (crank puller, lockring tool, chain while, headset tools. There’s not much else I don’t have now.)
• Expeditions. Yes, of course. There’s been a ton of plain ole riding. We biked to Ipswitch; a few trips to Walden Pond, Bedford, etc.; JP; Roslindale; Newton. I’ve been less inclined to bike destinations lately because I get so much riding in just by getting around, and Boston doesn’t have a great trail system. A few attempts to go to Central MA and camp fell through (rain and illness). Hopefully I’ll do either the NYC Century, the Hub on Wheels, or both, this year. I also discovered that cold weather is OK for shorter rides (getting around), but zero-percent fun in blustery wind and frigid cold.

The future hopefully holds much more biking in store: stay tuned.

The most eventful thing for me took place Monday evening. I was rapidly pedaling over the Longfellow Bridge on a very bumpy ride home, and all of a sudden my rear wheel completely locked up and I skidded to a stop. On closer inspection, the chain had jumped off: it was locked between the rear cog and hub. After some struggling, I managed to dislodge it; two links (and inch’s worth) were crushed and twisted. I rode home irrespectively; it was very bumpy every time  the broken links went over the cog.

I tried throwing on a spare, narrow-width chain I had lying around. No dice- the cog was for wide chains only. I didn’t have enough slack in the old chain to just remove the bad links. Furthermore, you shouldn’t break a chain any old place; my chain had a three-piece master link, which is composed of two plates and a clip which locks them together. This is the only place one should break a chain (when I practiced, I alternately used a flathead screwdriver or a needlenose pliers to widen apart the two arms of the clip), and the clip is reusable.

Since my favorite Open bike is closed for a few weeks, I went to my second favorite: Broadway Bicycle School. (I give little to no business to other, unnamed Cambridge-area bike shops, as they are obnoxious and terrible for many reasons.) They sold me a new chain, which was laterally stiffer, and therefore better suited for a fixed gear.

I went home and used my super-cheap chain tool to cut the chain to length (once you reduce the chain to the proper length, you can use the master link to close it). The tool failed miserably. It got jammed at the start of the job, and the pin that drives out the link simply mushroomed to the point of utter uselessness. I threw away the tool, and over the last two days, found myself in Broadway bikes asking them to take off successively more lengths (using a quality chain tool) until it was done correctly. They were very helpful in the initial explanation, and also didn’t mind the few seconds it took to break the chain for me.

This evening I got the chain on, and discovered a number of things. First, the back tire, which I hadn’t examined, was more than bald in one place; this heavy-duty tire had worn through its many layers in the skid (from 20 mph to zero in about 6 seconds). That’ll have to go. Second, the wheel was very wobbly, and always landed in the same spot when I let it run freely.

This inspired me to use all my drive-chain knowledge. I oiled the (brand new chain). I adjusted the chain tension. I made sure the bolts and washers were tightened down on the rear axle (they weren’t! A few weeks ago, I had them split in half because they were loose and had too much force placed on them). I adjusted the chainring bolts to get an even chain tension (that helped – my chainring actually has gotten straighter over time; perhaps I’m just getting better at this!). The result: everything runs pretty smoothly, although I’m still concerned the rear  hub or bottom bracket are damaged; at low rpms, there is still a wobble, although the chain runs quieter and there is less wobble at high speeds.

So, tension your chain sufficiently and save yourself at least $60 in new parts, possibly a lot more.

I wish I had a camera so I could show the various damage. Then again, I’d just as soon forget.

Back to the cycle.

As an aside, why can’t the Nvidia linux driver do Twinview for my two graphics card (Nvidia 6500 and 8500GT)? Windows can!