Be The Good

Last month, when I rode in the Asti Tour de Vine, one volunteer sported a t-shirt with words that drew my attention.

BELIEVE
THERE IS
GOOD IN
THE WORLD

The event was run by the Cloverdale Rotary Club, and evidently this is one of Rotary's mottoes.

Those words came back to me this afternoon.

I was walking home from a late afternoon errand when—by pure happenstance of timing and route—I was startled when an elderly cyclist in the bike lane clattered to the ground, his helmet (evidently unclipped) rolling into the gutter.

A woman ran toward him, helping him crawl onto the sidewalk. I rushed over and lifted his bike and helmet out of the street. He was disoriented (naturally), but not injured.

Almost immediately, a driver pulled over and jumped out of his car. [A very nice, late model BMW convertible.] Had the cyclist been struck by a car, or run into the utility pole? he asked. No, I replied; he just ... fell over.

Each time he tried to stand up, he'd just topple over. He was in no shape to get back on that bike.

The driver insisted that he'd give him a ride home, but couldn't take the bike. The cyclist explained that he lived nearby, and was able to provide his address (and directions). The other woman said she'd take care of bringing the bike—without hesitation, gamely donning the helmet and tapping the address into her phone.

I eased his backpack off before we helped him to his feet, and then the problem became very clear. After helping him into the car, the driver turned to me. “Has he been drinking?” he asked. “Smells that way,” I nodded. It was a small miracle he'd made it as far as he did, navigating through traffic.

Many cars passed by, but three people did not.

There is good in the world. Believe it. Be it.

Just Bike

As much riding as I've done with bike clubs, I've come to appreciate the simple pleasure of hopping on my bike whenever I choose—not having to hew to meeting at a prescribed time and place.

Today was one of those days. After lunch, after the day warmed up, I chose a relatively flat route to reach historic New Almaden and the reservoir beyond. I wanted to gauge the distance and difficulty of this route (which turned out to be hillier than I expected).

I managed to dress just right, for what was surely one of our last warm days of 2022. Holiday decorations are transitioning from inflatable turkeys to Santas (and the occasional Abominable Snowman or Grinch). Trees showered me with falling leaves, and cotton-puff clouds dotted the western sky.

I've introduced one of my neighbors to the quiet neighborhood streets where I prefer to ride, convincingly demonstrating that roads can be more tranquil than the multi-use trails he frequents. As he's opposed to climbing, he would definitely not appreciate the Camden hill (in either direction). Still, I think I can get him out to New Almaden (at least), with less than today's 30 miles and 700-ish feet of climbing. Next outing, whenever that will be.

Hazy Hillsides

You don't get the sweeping view if you don't do the climb.

By the time I reached Bernal, I was ... too warm. I peeled off my wool arm warmers and stuffed my jacket into my bag. I chatted with another cyclist stretching at the base of the climb—he noted that he was wearing a summer jersey. After last week's chill, I'd opted for short-sleeved wool. [Go figure.]

This climb has become familiar enough that the steep start no longer fills me with dread. Being warmed up helps, I'm sure—since it takes me about an hour to get there. In no particular hurry, I reached the top a few seconds faster than my last trip up the hill.

With a short errand added to the mix today, I wound up with about 32 miles and less than 1,000 feet of climbing. No reason not to make this a habit. Really.

Splash of Color

We do get some fall color in the Bay Area, and the point of today's outing was to do some local leaf peeping. [That, and some exercise too: 28 miles and some 440 feet of climbing.]

With my weekend chores done, I hopped on my bike in the afternoon sunshine. Mornings are chilly, days are shorter, and the sun doesn't rise very high in the sky these days.

Could my fingers and toes have been warmer? [Yes.] But the reds, oranges, and yellows overhead were a balm to my spirits as I cruised along the quiet, tree-lined streets of the Almaden Valley.