I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the New Orleans Saints are having a pretty good football season. They were undefeated, 13-0, going into tonight’s game versus the Dallas Cowboys. One of the very first things I learned as a child was to hate the Cowboys. As far my recall goes, my learning went like this: Yankees suck, never cross a picket line, hate the Dallas Cowboys. So yeah, I was rooting for the Saints.I took Rhoda out tonight, for the first time in awhile, and rode down to the Treme for veggie chili and football. Once I got to the CBD I was in tailgate central. There were huge TVs everywhere, BBQs, and drunk folks dancing and screaming about the Saints. I stopped to snap a picture, but was interrupted by a drunken fan who wanted to be in the picture. Then there was the trouble of trying to get a shot that wasn’t blurry with fans rush to the Superdome. This photo was the best I could do. Everybody’s dancing, except for #23 there, who is headed somewhere important, I’m guessing somewhere where thong underwear is involved. Whatever. People were in the good mood you’d expect of fans getting ready to root on the perfect-season Saints. But we lost. To the Cowboys. They pay their cheerleaders, you know. The Saintsations dance for charity, man. The Saints should have one. But we collectively seem to have decided that we needed to get this loss under our belts. Onward and upward, we say. What matters is the big one, not this one. But man, I wish we’d won that game. I’ll be outside the next one, though, on bike. Go Saints!

Oh, it was sunny today. Cool and sunny. My final grades were due today, so I hopped on the Surly, put on a song, and headed to campus. I’ve been feeling a little off lately; I think I just needed a fast pedal in the sunshine and a little bike dancing. After cleaning up after the semester, I headed down to the Quarter, mostly just so I could ride my bike around. I saw lots of stuff–a rude fellow biker who cut me off, fresh potholes on St. Charles after the rain of the past few weeks,  advertising agency down in the CBD with its totally out of place modern design, etc. There was a movie shooting at Jackson Square. The guy who plays his synthesizer for tips was moved out to make way for the cameras. He was muttering about it–with impressive calm, if you ask me–and one of people working on the film asked him if he had his union card, so he could join the shoot. Awkward laughs all around. The whole thing was complicated, so I got back on my bike, after snapping some photos, and headed to the Treme to pick up a friend to wander in the sunlight with. I spotted this plant crawling up the side of a house and got up close to examine it. Look at all those little “feet” shooting out, climbing up the siding! I’m used to ivy, but that stuff hides its feet. Alright, fine. I get it. We need all this rain to support the fantabulous flora we’ve got here. Much easier to feel on a lazy bike ride on a sunny afternoon.

The last week or so of rides have been largely task rides. Even when I was riding for pleasure, I was usually looking for a places to put posters or flyers for the Bicycle Film Festival. Today was stormy, but I was excited to get to ride for pleasure to meet friends at a fancy bar on North Rampart for fancy drinks. The streets were wet and empty, and it felt so, so good to just spin the pedals on the Surly as I raced myself downtown. I slowed when I hit the streetcar tracks, though–beware the wet track! The ride back Uptown was even nicer. I don’t know, it just felt good to be riding tonight. I snapped this picture while waiting for the light to change at at Dauphine and Canal. This Walgreens is the brightest in the city, especially so tonight, with the wet asphalt reflecting like this. I love the city’s attempts to make it feel like Christmas in places where they might have trees to string lights. Here, we get giant lighted socks for our palm trees. The light changed and I raced home, strangely pleased I don’t have fenders on the Surly. Yep, it’s always good riding weather in New Orleans.

It’s cold tonight. And rainy. There was talk of snow, but that was mostly just fantasy. Regardless, it meant I was driving downtown tonight. And for a party with other bikers. I figured I’d have to park a few blocks away, skulk in. But first, I had to ride my bike to my car. It was cold and rainy and dark, and I quickly locked up to this nice rack outside of Harry’s Ace Hardware on Magazine. The sign reads, “Bike Parking for Harry’s Ace Customers.” Well, I wasn’t a customer tonight. And it didn’t look like anyone else would want to use it. I decided to just go for it, park there even though I wasn’t actually a customer. And then I was wondering if they could really enforce such a rule. Can they really tell bikers they can’t lock up here? I do like, though, knowing this business arranged to have these racks put in. Three cheers for more bike racks, and thanks, Harry. I drove down to the bar for a party, got my cell phone stolen, and then drove back to the bike and back home, a bad taste in my mouth, hoping tomorrow goes a little more smoothly.

Ok, so for me, riding a bicycle is usually a solitary act. I don’t love riding with other people–I’m not good at pacing. I prefer heavily-trafficked routes to the side streets with their potholes, unlike most of my friends, for whom fear of the motor vehicle outweighs all else. And I’m a stickler about being a law-abiding cyclist, which means no, I do not want to ride the wrong way down that one way street (S., I’m looking at you). But today I rode my bike down to the Tidewater Building on Canal to talk about riding in the city with nine other folks who regularly pedal around here. Turns out, all the things that drive me crazy drive others crazy too. And it turns out I’m not all that law-abiding either. Asked repeatedly what would make me obey all stop signs, traffic or not, I kept saying, “nothing.” I enjoyed this brief foray into group activity, but was also happy to leave, clip in, and head off on my own way. I stopped in front of this statue on my ride back toward the river. It was 5:00, which meant heavy traffic on Canal, and rather than try to talk on my cell phone and ride at the same time (there’s not a law against it, but there probably should be), I hopped off and walked my bike. I’ve ridden past Molly Marine a hundred times, but I’ve actually never really noticed her. She was erected in 1943, in honor of women marines, the very first statue honoring military women in the entire U.S.. Huh. Sometimes it’s safer to get off and walk. Who knows what you’ve been missing, speeding by on a bike.

After getting a little bit lost on my bike yesterday, and riding around for more hours than I’d planned, I have to admit I was dragging a little when I got up early to bike out to Gentilly to meet the Nolacycle folks for the Bike Bash mapping ride. But oh, I’m glad I did. It was great to see so many people on bikes–including the folks biking around the south planting trees!–joining in on the project. I enjoyed my ride so much, I was instantly regretful that I hadn’t joined the team sooner. I took a nice, leisurely ride back to Canal and Villere to check out some bike polo action and help out with the BBQ. Nobody brought charcoal lighter fluid. So I spent thirty minutes on a mission to find some. In November. I delivered it, and then sat back and watched some polo. I tried to see myself making myself a mallet, getting on my Surly, knocking the ball around, but I just don’t think it’s for me. Then again, I haven’t tried it. Sigh. There are so, so many things to do with bikes. When I finally made it home this afternoon I was seriously wishing I had a bathtub for a good soak after a full weekend of riding all over this town. Next stop: Bicycle Film Festival! Perfect.

Tonight was the opening-night party for Bike Bash, a weekend celebrating bikes and bike culture in New Orleans, sponsored by Metro Bicycle Coalition, Plan B, and RUBARB. I was excited to ride my bike to a place where lots of other folks were riding their bikes. The crowd included lots of NOLA Bike Polo team members as well as many MBC members and friends. I don’t know most of these bikers, so I was a little nervous, but at the same time, it felt a little like I’d found my people. I snapped this photo of folks sitting around and chatting while goldsprints sign ups went around. I’ve never seen goldsprints, and let me just say they are fun, fun, fun. I didn’t know most of the racers, but I found myself cheering them on (usually whoever was on the blue bike–matches my eyes) and getting in to the competition. Dudes were going over 50MPH! That’s serious racing, man. This was just the first event among many, and I’m looking forward to a weekend of bikes and bikers and biking. And yes, I’ll be getting there by bike.

Rhoda’s rear cog was a little loose and I don’t have the proper flat wrench for repair, so I took her to the bike shoppe for a little TLC this afternoon. Ten bucks later and the girl was riding like a dream, so I was happy to pedal her down to the Marigny tonight for a drink with a former student and then over to S.’s place for roasted beets, prosecco, and some TV with S. and R. On my ride down I noticed those swirling/flashing sky light things. Yep, it was Opening Night of the new $60 million auditorium at the World War II museum. The party was over by the time I was headed home, but I stopped at Magazine and the freeway to snap a picture of the red, white, and blue lights lighting up the museum behind me. The place looks amazing, and the new John Besh restaurant and fancy gift shop and new facades and parking facilities and la dee da is all beautiful. I then rode through the light, avoiding this one pothole on the right. It used to be seriously, ringed with white spray paint to warn us. And then, about a year ago, the Pothole Killer filled the thing. And it’s been steadily sinking ever since. In another six months or so, it’ll be time to spray paint the thing again. We can build that new fantastical auditorium in what seemed like just a few months, but that hole is just going to keep sinking, over and over again. I’m guessing the city will just keep filling it.

I don’t know if you heard, but the Saints had a game tonight. And they are having a really good season. 6-0 going in to tonight’s game, in fact. It felt like the whole city was gearing up for a party, so I hopped on the Surly (Rhoda’s out of commission at the moment) and headed down to the Treme, via Loyola, to watch the game in HD at J. and R.’s place. The parking lots I passed were full of tailgaters with blaring music, barbecues, and beer. That meant, of course, my ride home took me through a lot of drunk drivers and drunk pedestrians. These are the rides that make me feel like I’m in an obstacle course, and sometimes it’s safest to just walk the bike on the sidewalk. I snapped this picture of cars lining up to get on the Pontchartrain Expressway leading to I10. Cars were moving incredibly slowly, and I was glad, again, to be on my bike. This line will be slo-o-o-w going. I’d positively wait in that line if it meant I’d have gotten to be inside the Dome tonight. That was a fantastic football game, and I am absolutely digging the collective excitement. But me? I’m taking my bike to the victory parade.

I am under the weather, all sniffles and sinuses, and this is really putting a dent in my bicycling. I mean, I need to breathe, people! But after some decongestant and guaifenesin, I was in shape to ride to the CBD to meet K. for our weekly dinner date. It was hot and cool, depending on the shade level, and I showed up thirsty. We lazily made our way back to her neighborhood after a quick cup of coffee. Walking down St. Mary’s, we came upon this tree root growing through the sidewalk. Now, this happens everywhere around here. Oak tree roots are vigorous and impressive. The city dug a hole to repair something or other on my street, and the roots were insane. Now, how to deal with this is a good question. You can’t cut down the trees, and though the trees can do fine after having some roots cut, roots will grow back. It is a never ending battle, trying to keep up with the infrastructure here in New Orleans. This root, however, has won. The sidewalk goes around the root, and someone has helpfully affixed a reflector to alert nighttime pedestrians to its presence. I gave K. my coffee to hold, snapped a photo of the victorious root and K.’s feet, and then humped the bike over it. Win for the root, loss for anyone with any kind of decreased mobility.