Paul E. Fallon's Blog, page 54
February 13, 2016
Trip Log – Day 228 – Austin, TX to Rockdale, TX
February 11, 2016 – Sunny, 80 degrees
Miles Today: 73
Miles to Date: 11,644
States to Date: 28
I pedaled out of Austin early to meet Gail Vittori and Pliny Fiske of the Center for Maximum Potential Building Systems, an environmental think tank and hands on laboratory that’s been creating innovative approaches to how we build for over forty years. Their work was an integral part of my architectural education, and they are still fomenting forward thinking ideas.
It was almost noon by the time I reached Austin city limits. I spotted a woman standing beside a van on the side of the road and screeched to a halt. It was Patrice Peach, a local acupuncturist I’d met the previous day. I don’t know how she came to be waiting for me, but I accepted the fingerful of malli energy powder she offered and gave her a hug: my farewell to Texas’ counter cultural center.
The day was fair, the countryside gentle and the wind benign. After too many miles on the shoulder of U.S. 290 I turned north on Country Line Road. I was supposed to connect to Texas 93, but when I reached that highway I simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meander more local roads. So I continued an unchartered route, using wind and shadow to guide my north and easterly direction. I passed rolling ranches, watering holes, longhorn cattle, sheep, and donkeys: twenty miles of the most pleasant cycling of my trip.
Eventually I reached U.S. 79 and twenty more miles of easy highway riding. I was surprised how tired I felt given such good conditions; until I realized that every day in Austin I’d stayed up late visiting friends and got up early to meet new people. When eight hours of sleep ratchets back to six for several nights in a row, the body suffers.
Just outside of Rockdale I spotted a woman standing beside a car on the side of the road. Turned out to be Victoria Everett, that evening’s couchsurfing host who spotted me on the road. Just as Patrice fared-me-well out of Austin, Victoria welcomed me to Rockdale. Texas is huge. But such hospitable folk make it feel small and friendly.
February 12, 2016
Trip Log – Day 227 – Austin, TX
February 10, 2016 – Sunny, 80 degrees
Miles Today: 15
Miles to Date: 11,571
States to Date: 28
Austin is a city where Prius drivers cut off bicyclists.
Austin is a city where the Hispanics are getting shoved off Cesar Chavez Blvd to make room for bungalows turned into boutique hotels and auto shops turned into Austin School of Film.
Austin is a city where too many people quote the original purchase price and current value of their home to a guy a in yellow shirt who’s just passing through.
Austin is a city where the parking lot at the Whole Foods mastership has an electronic space counter to minimize aggressive space mongering among the hurried healthy.
Austin is a city in which people with walk-in closets reminisce about swimming naked at the Barton Springs pool.
Austin is a city where funky juice bars are franchised and ‘The Originator’ is an energy concoction rather than a video game hero.
Austin is a city where vehicles wanting to make a right turn on a red light breathe down my fenders.
Austin is a city where natives’ anxiety about 120 to 150 people moving in every day is eclipsed by the resulting economic boost.
Austin is a city famous for its laid-back vibe and music scene: an oasis of liberalism in a Blood Red State. It’s got a high cool factor. After four days of cycling every corner of town, Austin is just another urban leviathan smearing tranquil hillsides with freeways, shopping centers and boxy dwellings. The inner core is riddled with angular additions that agitate the easy rhythm of the old neighborhoods.
The dichotomy between lore and reality doesn’t make Austin a bad place; just more like San Antonio or Houston than it wants to admit. Whenever America cities grow, the dazzle of profit drives us to move fast and grow hard. We dilute what makes us distinctive.
February 11, 2016
Trip Log – Day 226 – Austin, TX
February 9, 2016 – Sunny, 75 degrees
Miles Today: 43
Miles to Date: 11,556
States to Date: 28
I encountered every quadrant of the city in pursuit of interesting people, and found them in all quarters. Many freeways feed center city from the north; I crossed several to reach Austin’s east side, the traditionally industrial, Black, and Hispanic precinct. Of course I found a great Mexican market and panaderia.
Just beyond city limits, Alan Graham, recently named Austinite of the Year, is building a community of tiny houses and RV’s for formerly homeless people through Mobile Loaves and Fishes: one of the most inspiring visits of my trip.
I wound back to town along Walnut Creek Trail. Throughout the near East Side the minority population is being squeezed out by rampant gentrification. On the south side of Colorado River (not the big one that flows to the Pacific, the small one that bisects Austin) I meandered through Travis Heights to visit Tanya Hall, CEO of Greenleaf Book Group, an innovative multi-platform publisher.
Pedaling back north, I bypassed the Whole Foods megaplex to provision at a new Trader Joe’s, continued past the Capital and UT to Hyde Park. My host Cynthia assembled a group of lively thinkers to discuss how will we live tomorrow.
Austin may be the best cycling city in Texas, but that ain’t saying much. During my three weeks in Texas I’ve endured more honks and heckling than the rest of my trip combined. It continues here. Riding north on Guadalupe, along the UT campus, a group of guys whizzed by and spritzed me with a water bottle. What could I do but laugh? After all, I recently bought a squirt gun to distract dogs that cross my path. A cyclist in Texas is nothing more than a wayward dog.
February 10, 2016
Trip Log – Day 225 – Austin, TX
February 8, 2016 – Sunny, 60 degrees
Miles Today: 22
Miles to Date: 11,513
States to Date: 28
There are times when even cyclists need an admin day. I spent the morning in McDonald’s, America’s Living Room, catching up on my posts, chatting with homeless folks and a trio of cross-country backpackers. I spent the afternoon at a public library, America’s other Living Room, scheduling my hosts and conversations in Houston amidst pairs of elementary students and after-school tutors struggling through the task of formal learning.
In between I enjoyed a Texas-size lunch at Whataburger. The regional chain has a great system and distinctive food, which explains why it was packed while McDonald’s was near empty.
I also rode through a variety of Austin neighborhoods. The city is a patchwork of classic Southern bungalows, wood frame cottages, and basic houses exploding with contemporary additions; modest homes being demolished for monster replacements, stately old mansions, and less elegant new ones. There is residential construction on every other street.
In late afternoon I pedaled north and west to spend the night with a high school friend, Austin. We had a superb time catching up on forty years of our (mostly) satisfying lives.
February 9, 2016
Trip Log – Day 224 – San Marcos, TX to Austin, TX
February 7, 2016 – Sunny, 60 degrees
Miles Today: 42
Miles to Date: 11,491
States to Date: 28
LBJ Day! I started at the campus of Texas State University in San Marcos, which LBJ graduated from in 1930. Although our 37th President has a commemorative statue on the quad, I imagine he would not recognize the place. I have never seen a college campus with so many parking garages; more places to park than to attend class. Every student must come with her own car.
My ride was so pleasant; past the spring that creates the San Marcos River and along quiet Farm to Market Roads through Kyle and Buda. The closer I got to Austin on this placid Sunday morning the more packs of enthusiastic cyclists left me in the dust. Weekend warriors of the Hill Country are fierce indeed. the parade of horseback riders with a Conestoga wagon were more my speed.
Entering Austin from the south, Congress Street evolved from an industrial area to a pawn strip to new angular apartment buildings to the funky Travis Hill neighborhood. I stopped for lunch at a fried chicken food truck and pedaled over the Colorado River, through downtown’s office and residential towers, past the capital, Longhorn’s stadium, and UT’s tower, from which former marine Charles Whitman invented the modern phenomenon of random mass shootings in 1966.
As part of my quest to visit Presidential libraries, I spent an informative afternoon at the LBJ Library and Museum. The museum does a great job balancing the dichotomy between LBJ’s domestic success and his Vietnam conundrum. I found the museum more interesting than either Reagan’s or Nixon’s. Perhaps that’s because LBJs Great Society resonates with me. Perhaps it’s because the museum owned LBJ’s failings better than Reagans (which admitted to none) or Nixon’s (which is clouded by his). Or perhaps it’s because LBJ was president during my own coming of age. I was eight when he was sworn in; thirteen when he stepped down. So much of my worldview, both good and bad, was shaped by the LBJ years. He was a ruthless and manipulative man, demonized for Vietnam more readily than heralded for the domestic transformation he imprinted upon our country.
February 8, 2016
Trip Log – Day 223 – Converse, TX to San Marcos, TX
February 6, 2016 – Sunny, 60 degrees
Miles Today: 44
Miles to Date: 11,449
States to Date: 28
Welcome to the Texas Hill Country – gigantic high school football stadiums and the cheapest gas yet. Fill up your car for $135.9 per gallon in New Braunfels. According to the inflation calculator, that’s cheaper then the 25-cent per gallon gas I used to fill up my very first tank as a fledgling driver in Oklahoma in 1971.
The weather was perfect for cycling, although the wind gave me a workout. I oscillated between three environments: lovely quiet Farm to Market Roads, miles of big box houses along the I-35 corridor, and the picturesque town of New Braunfels, which has vintage Texas architecture, both commercial and residential.
I took a break at the New Braunfels library to get relief from the wind and enjoyed two hours writing at a counter with a vista of the blue skies sand rolling hills. Two old men near me discussed presidential politics. “This guy Bernie Sanders is a communist. He lived in a kibbutz!”
Beyond New Braunfels the village of Gruene is a busy tourist spot. I navigated around a phalanx of parked cars, heard the folk singers entertain from the outdoor open stage, and marveled at the number of people who gathered to shop and eat at this crossroads on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I seemed to be the only person riding open on two wheels instead of being enclosed by four.
The final stretch to San Marcos was pure delight. The wind dissipated, the shoulder was smooth. I cast a long late afternoon shadow. Last night’s rain left the air crisp and fresh. The deeper I inhaled, the more I wanted to draw it into me.
Mr. and Ms. Politician: Answer Me This
This piece was published as a guest column in the Cambridge Chronicle on 2/5/2016, just in time for the New Hampshire Primary:
For seven months I’ve been bicycling throughout the United States: 11,000 miles and twenty-eight states to date. Along the way I pose the question, ‘How will we live tomorrow?’ Hundreds of individuals and organizations have responded. My adventure’s not over; too soon to infer where our nation is headed. Still, I’ve asked the question enough to spot trends. The most basic one being: who actually answers my question?
Riding a bicycle is a non-scientific endeavor. I occupy a small slice of space in time. Nonetheless, I seek a wide range of answers. Every day I ask at least one random local, ‘How will we live tomorrow?’ I ask friends, friends of friends, and strangers who offer me food and shelter. I solicit interviews with organizations representative of their locale: glass technologists in Corning; Muslims in Dearborn; oilmen in Dickinson; event planners in Sturgis; cattlemen in Cheyenne; Mormons in Provo; organic farmers in Missoula; librarians in Seattle; futurists in San Francisco; retirees in Sun City; immigration lawyers in El Paso. Most people accept my invitation to participate. When I ask why they offer me their time, the universal response is, “because you’re on a bike!”
Not everyone is equally intrigued by my question. College townies love to talk about tomorrow. Most North Dakotans give me a blank stare. People of faith; Christians and Muslims, Hindus and Jews; are keen to share their vision. Even atheists are eager to respond. Most people under the age of fifteen interpret my question literally; they tell me what’s planned for the next 24 hours. Many over age 60 bemoan some aspect of community they feel has been lost. People of all ages discuss economic, environmental, and climate concerns. Tech savvy people tend to be more upbeat than computer illiterate souls. Businesses are receptive to my query; every entrepreneur has a plan to move forward, albeit skewed toward her particular market segment. Non-profit organizations thirst to share their mission.
One group, however, stands alone in resisting entreaties to talk about tomorrow. Politicians. Before I left Massachusetts, I asked every one of my elected officials: City Council members, State Representatives, Governor Baker, Congresswoman Clark, Senators Markey and Warren, “How will we live tomorrow?” Not one responded. Councilor Lela
nd Cheung considered my endeavor noteworthy enough to initiate a Cambridge City Council resolution endorsing my journey, but he didn’t actually answer my query: a political display of form over substance.
Every elected official I meet ducks my question. I’ve posed it to all announced Presidential candidates. None of them responded. Several added me to their email lists; I now receive donation requests from every ideological slant. A Seattle resident assured me Kshama Sawant, the city’s activist councilwoman, would share her vision. She demurred. Over lunch, the Mayor of Palm Springs told me he’d get back with a response. He never did.
At first, politicians’ disinterest perplexed me. Doesn’t every candidate salivate for an unedited platform to articulate his vision? Until I realized, my question offers no upside to the world’s most tactical players. If a television commentator asked ‘How will we live tomorrow?’ in a debate, she’d be forced to cobble a response. But politicians sidestep anything substantive, even a vision, unless their back is to the wall.
Which argues the point, why ask this question? Why postulate about something we cannot control? I acknowledge that we cannot define the future. But I believe we can influence it. A vision offers a direction of where we want to go. We can work toward that vision; make it more plausible.
I’ve met many people with valuable ideas of what tomorrow might hold. But our politicians refuse to engage in the discussion. This primary season, they run all over the country asking us for our vote. Before I decide whose box to check, I’d like some answers from them.
February 7, 2016
Trip Log – Day 222 – San Antonio, TX to Converse, TX
February 5, 2016 – Sunny, 60 degrees
Miles Today: 15
Miles to Date: 11,405
States to Date: 28
Food and people took center stage today. My cycling was nothing more than linking them together through San Antonio’s busy streets.
I met with Joseph Dial, cattle ranger and neuroscience philanthropist at Hotel Emma in the beautiful restoration of the former Pearl Brewing Company just north of downtown. The development, which is spurring other construction in the former industrial area beyond the tourist precinct, was conceived and funded by the Pace Salsa family. There are no franchises; the retail and businesses located there all have San Antonio roots. They also suffer the current trend to give everything simple names. Want to eat? Go to Supper. Need a protein fix? Dine at Cured. A toothbrush? There’s Larder. An upscale gift? Curios. A book? Twig.
After a delicious brunch of steel cut oatmeal with assorted fruit and fresh beignets, I headed over to McDonalds to meet with Melissa Lopez, an immigration attorney. No actual food consumed.
Then I pedaled to Converse to meet with my high school friend Phil and his wife Vicky. They took me to Papacito’s, their favorite Tex-Mex place. Modelo on draft, outstanding tacos, enchiladas, and tamales spiced our happy and long overdue reunion.
February 6, 2016
Trip Log – Day 221 – San Antonio, TX
February 4, 2016 – Sunny, 60 degrees
Miles Today: 11
Miles to Date: 11,390
States to Date: 28
I finally broke down and bought a gun. Not from Adam Turcotte, General Manager of Ranger Firearms, who spent an hour with me this morning discussing the gun business and what it heralds for tomorrow. I bought one from Valerie, proprietress of the San Antonio General Store, one of the many souvenir shops opposite the Alamo. It doesn’t shoot bullets. It shoots water.
Many people along my route have counseled that I’m foolish to cycle through this great land unarmed. I have two responses to their warnings. First, I don’t feel unsafe. Second, even if I did, having a gun wouldn’t make me feel any safer. I shot a gun once (in Texas, naturally). I acknowledge how few talents I have in that department.
Many cyclists along my route have discussed the trials pedaling the South, a region famous for roaming dogs. I have solicited advice from anyone who’s ridden Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee or Kentucky. Some outrace the dogs. Some dismount and put the frame between themselves and the beast. Some spray mace. Last week a couple that traversed the South told me they sprayed dogs with water bottles, a harmless shock that stopped the dogs cold. I like their strategy and upgraded it – to a squirt gun. So watch out, Fido; Tex here is coming your way fully loaded.
In addition with dealing of all manner of guns today, from water pistols to assault rifles, I played San Antonio tourist. I visited the Alamo, strolled the Riverwalk, and the Milam Building, where air conditioning was born.. There are few visitors mid-week in February. Nothing was crowded, yet the weather was perfect for sightseeing.
February 5, 2016
Trip Log – Day 220 – Uvalde, TX to San Antonio, TX
February 3, 2016 – Sunny, 60 degrees
Miles Today: 91
Miles to Date: 11,379
States to Date: 28
Today it was just me and the bike and the last of the wide-open spaces before I reached San Antonio. The small towns along U.S. 90 came more frequent. Each reflected some aspect of history, geography or commerce. Sabinal had gorgeous cottonwood trees lining the river. D’Hanis was full of Dutch surnames. The cafes in Hondo welcomed hunters; the markets hawked Deer Corn. Castleville has a district of traditional Alsatian buildings.
In mid morning the sky began to cloud. I watched moisture form into white wisps. The air I inhaled, tinged with humidity after so much desert, felt heavy. It smelled like a laundromat. Small changes are perceptible when traveling slow.
I rode by several taxidermy signs. When I passed a large shed with an open garage door displaying a giant elk, I decided to investigate. Joe Schneider of Realistic Taxidermy and his assistant Amanda explained the taxidermy process while they toured me through their showroom and workshop. The extent of hunting in this region and the range of animals that hunters want to display surprised me.
Facing a long ride with the wind often against me, I took several short breaks to keep my energy up and still make good time. I mixed traditional peanut/almond/raisin/M&M trial mix with dried cranberries. That makes a high-energy combination.
Texas roadsides are full of urgent messages, mostly political, strung out in multiple signs so speeding motorists can absorb their full intent. Ben Carson 2016: How to irritate most liberals. Enforce the Constitution. Believe the Bible. Have a job. After the Iowa caucuses, the person living in that trailer can’t be too happy.
I reached the outskirts of San Antonio by 3:00 p.m. But since I entered from the southwest and was staying in the northeast I faced twenty-five miles of bicycle treacherous sprawl.
After eight days in small towns and rural outposts, riding past new subdivisions was dispiriting: so many houses, so many cars, so little environmental regard, all in service of such an unappealing way to live. San Antonio is sunny and warm. Why do the houses have dark roofs that absorb heat? Why are they packed across the landscape without regard to solar orientation? The rows of beige boxes with windows punched at random and roofs that slant toward nothing in particular sapped my enthusiasm; what people endure to escape city taxes and claim a scrap of private property numbs me.
There’s no place for pedestrians or cyclists along this stretch where gas sells for $1.45 a gallon, a new low in my informal survey of tumbling oil prices. After a few nasty honks and much defensive riding I arrived inside the I-410 loop. Post World War II San Antonio is less dense than the exurbs; a city of ranch houses and expansive trees. Yet beyond the exclusive enclaves, affluent people have abandoned the city proper. Neighborhoods are falling into various degree of deterioration. Still, cycling within the loop was better. Traffic is more dispersed; there are even a few marked bike paths.
I arrived at my host’s before dark, invigorated by the accomplishment of traversing West Texas on my bike; ambivalent about returning to urban America.
