Cape LaCroix Recreational Trail Rings Cash Registers

I’m visiting my mother in Cape Girardeau, MO, a Mississippi River town halfway between St. Louis and Memphis.

I get back here at least once a year to recharge my psychic batteries in an area that has real hills, real trees and real people, all of which are sometimes in short supply in SFL.

Way back in the last century when I was a kid, Cape LaCroix Creek – known to locals as Three-Mile Creek – would overflow and flood homes and businesses every few years.

Got fed up with it

The Local Fathers got fed up with complaints from the wet folks and managed to scrape up enough money to make the creek run more efficiently and drain off the water before it spilled over its banks.

A side effect of that was the Cape LaCroix Recreational Trail, a 4.2-mile paved multiuse path, that was created next to the creek.

The trail starts (or ends, depending on your perspective) just down the hill from the old homestead, so I ride it several times when I visit. It’s fun meeting folks and it’s a great way to get from the north end of town to the south end without climbing a bunch of hills.

Arguably the most-used park in town

I’ve never been on it without meeting tens of bikers, roller bladers, joggers, walkers, families with strollers and dog walkers. I’ve often thought that it’s the most-used park in town, particularly if you define “use” as “actively participate” and not just “spectate.” It attracts all ages and demographic groups.

Other paths I’ve ridden seem to attract mostly local users: elderly folks who do short exercise rides in the evening, kids going to their friends’ houses or (on the Withlacoochee) an old guy who would walk to the convenience store with a small shopping cart to pick up the week’s supply of beer. I assumed this trail would be the same, especially since it’s so short.

Trail draws users for miles around

This afternoon I ran into a category of rider that local governments should take into consideration when people gripe about building public facilities like this one.

The first person I encountered was pulling a child’s trailer with a huge cooler and other stuff it in. When I got closer, I saw he had a toddler in a bike seat behind him. Up ahead was his wife with another toddler, a young girl and another adult couple.

They explained that they had driven to Cape from the Farmington, MO, area to ride the trail and have a picnic alongside it. Farmington is about an hour’s drive from Cape. Let’s review that: two families had loaded two cars with bicycles, snacks, toddlers as young as 18 months and driven close to 100 miles round trip so they could do a sub-10-mile bike ride because there weren’t any good facilities close at hand.

Cash registers were going to ring

Oh, yeah, and while they were in Cape primarily to ride their bikes, they were also going to do some shopping.

[Editor’s note: I am horribly embarrassed to admit that I stuck a digital recorder under their noses and very carefully recorded every name so I could mention them. Unfortunately, Murphy was riding along with me and ate the info. The only name I can remember was 8-year-old Kendra who thought riding was “good excercise and a lot of fun, but I think it might make me lose too much weight.”]

Not the only one

I would have thought they were an anomaly until I found the Cerneys who drove 30 miles from Illinois to ride the trail. The said that they had often seen riders on the trail when they came into Cape for shopping and they decided to bring their bikes along for a ride.

After giving their names, Mr. Cerney asked, “Don’t you want our ages?”

“Sure,” I replied. “I just didn’t think it was polite to ask.”

“I’m 72 and Jane is 71,” he said. (I should be drinking what they’re drinking.)

Finally, local riders

On the way back home, I ran into the Schroeders just as they were entering the Cape Woods Conservation Area on their way to the Osage Center to watch her brother play flag football. They thought they’d take their bikes since it was such a nice afternoon.

Well maintained

The Cape area has had several flash floods this year that  put the trail under some raging waters. I was curious to see if there would still be debris, rocks and gravel across it. It was spotless. Part of the credit goes to the local bicycle club which conducts periodic cleanup sessions.

This just goes to show that parks don’t have to have expensive lights and facilities to attract a large number of users, some from out of town with money to spend to bolster the local economy.

The only negative I can see is the local Letters to the Editor Yahoos who gripe, “Why are people riding their bikes in the street when we built them that nice bike path.”

Cyclists Slam into Driver with Road Rage

If you’re a regular bike blog reader, I’m sure you have already seen this story about a doctor who cut off a cyclist and then slammed on his brakes so the bikers went through his back window.

I’d love to believe the bikers. I’m not so sure, however.

Bike Crunch in Boulder, Colorado

Earlier this year, I caught a crunch out of the corner of my eye and whipped my head around in time to see a biker go down and the car stop. I grabbed my camera so I could take pictures of the accident and get a picture of the license plate in case the driver tried to run.

The biker was coming down a hill outside Boulder, Colorado. The car was doing less than 20 miles an hour and slowing to make a left turn into the parking lot. The cyclist was going too fast — nearly twice as fast as the car. He didn’t realize the car was turning and went to pass. He misjudged distance and intent. The cyclist crunched into the driver’s bumper.

To his credit, the driver stopped. To his credit, the biker admitted he was at fault for the accident.

If the cyclist hadn’t fessed-up, well, there were enough of us in the parking lot ready to blame the driver and beat him senseless before the cops arrived. (It was Boulder, after all. The biker is always right.) The biker did the right thing.

But, what if he hadn’t?

What if the biker said the driver had been ticked-off, unable to pass the biker on a narrow mountain road? What if the biker had said the driver had tried to run him off the road then slammed on his brakes in front of the bike? Road rage. Damn cars.

Would we have believed the biker? I probably would have.

Busted Wheel and Trip to the Hospital

The front, carbon fiber wheel was toast. I’d be surprised if the front fork didn’t need replacement.

We drove the cyclist back to his apartment — five or so miles away — and his friend took him to the hospital. He didn’t think he had any broken bones but was worried about soft-tissue damage. He looked okay on the mountain given the fall but by the time he was back to his apartment he wasn’t feeling well at all.

We joked as to if his repairs or the bike’s repairs would be more expensive.

In the Land of Critical Mass

Cyclists are becoming more militant and organized. Would I run my bike into the back of a jerk’s car if I could get some cash, sympathy and the local government to install more bike lanes? Probably not.

Would I immediately believe every cyclist that is involved with a car? Probably not.

Before I start jabbing spokes under the fingernails of drivers, I’m going to make sure I know all the facts and a court of law has made a ruling. Until then, I’ll just give everyone a bit more space.

—Matt

What Do You Need to be Safe on a Bike?

My Google News bicycle search grabbed a mostly favorable piece from the Fort Scott (KS) Tribune this morning. It was a collection of tidbits from the Kansas Department of Transportation and contained a “helmet saved her life” anecdote.

Adam Arnold, 14, of Fort Scott, demonstrates the proper use of bicycle safety equipment including the use of a helmet, elbow pads and knee pads while riding his bike Wednesday afternoon in downtown Fort Scott. Rayma Silvers/ Tribune Photo

At the top of the story was a picture, “Adam Arnold, 14, Fort Scott demonstrates the proper use of bicycle safety equipment including the use of a helmet, elbow pads and knee pads while riding his bike Wednesday afternoon in downtown Fort Scott.”

Oh, by the way, they were riding on a sidewalk, which is more dangerous than being in the street.

Safe or silly?

Here are the comments I sent to the paper:

I wish you had posted the part of the KDOT site that says that bicycles have all the rights and responsibilities of a vehicle. (And, yes, I acknowledge that there are a lot of jerks on two wheels who don’t respect the last part of that sentence, just like there are a lot of jerks perched on four wheels.)

And, while it’s courteous to not let traffic back up behind any slow-moving vehicle, whether it’s a tractor, 18-wheeler going up a grade or a bicycle, none of those vehicles is required by law to dive for a ditch just because someone behind wants to go faster.

Here is why I wear a helmet.

Bike Helmets: Magic Foam Hats

On the other hand, magic foam hats are like parachutes: you only need one when something has gone tragically wrong – and wearing one doesn’t always mean that you won’t get hurt.

Your picture of the two kids riding with all the protective gear raises two questions:

1. Do their parents make them wear all that garb when they’re in the car, where they are much more likely to be injured?

2. Do they know that they are more likely to be involved in a crash on the sidewalk because cars coming out of driveways and at intersections aren’t looking for things moving at faster than walking speeds. (Arguably, I could have ended that sentence after “looking.”)

This isn’t an anti-car, anti-helmet rant. I’m just pointing out that bikes have a place on the road and that we all have to watch out for each other.

Sally Forth: Bike for Emergency Travel

Here is something I never thought I’d say: Did you see Sally Forth today? She’s planning on escaping her mother by bicycle.

Sally Forth: I have a Bike. -- Copyright King Features Syndicate

Sally Forth has a bike and you should, too.

In the land of $4.25 a gallon gas, a friend of mine just bought the largest SUV he could find in advance of hurricane season. If worse came to worse, he could load the wife, two kids and their collection of 18th century Mexican art into the vehicle and escape. He is new to Florida so I can understand why he might think that was a viable plan. (In his defense, since no one wants a Nissan Armada and its 12 miles per gallon around town, he got a good deal.)

How to Escape in an Emergency: My Bike

This tree missed our house by inches after Hurricane Jeanne in 2004.
Me, I’m going to ride my bike to safety.

I was born, raised and live in South Florida. I survived the nasty hurricane seasons of 2004 and 2005 and have the t-shirt to prove it. I watched the evacuations of New York after the eleventh and New Orleans during and after Katrina.

Here is what I have learned: when all hell is breaking loose, a car isn’t going to do you any good. During evaculations, the roads are packed and moving 15 miles an hour. Cars run out of gas. Cars break down. Tempers flare. The roads move slowly.

After the 2004 hurricanes, 100-year-old oak trees in Orlando were down and even the most beefy Hummer could not get around town. Yet, you could get just about anywhere by bike if you didn’t mind lifting the bike over a trunk every once and a while.

Can I Get Away Fast Enough on a Bike?

2004 Indonesia Tsunami - U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric AdministrationThe 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake spawned one of the largest tsunami’s known to man. Over 225,000 people died as a result of the wave and its after effects. The furthest inland the wave traveled was 1.24 miles.

Hurricane Andrew was the second most destructive hurricane in history and one of only three Category 5 hurricanes to hit the United States in the last hundred or so years. It did $44.9 billion dollars worth of damage. Less than 20 miles inland, damage was minimal. At 50 miles away, you’d never even know there had been a storm.

Even Katrina’s devistation, too, is limited to 20 or 30 miles inland for both Mississippi and New Orleans.

September 11? Just five miles would have gotten you out of the dust. And, without subways or cars, a bike would have gotten you away or home hours sooner than walking.

An out of shape person can do ten miles an hour on a bike. Someone who is in average shape, has ridden a bike anytime in the last six months and is fleeing for his life can be 15 to 20 miles away in an hour.

Fleeing for my life with a hundred thousand other people, I’ll take a bicycle over a car every time.

Gasoline or Diesel Anyone?

Old Red Gasoline CanAfter the hurricanes, it was my job to stand in line for hours to get diesel fuel for the office generator. We burned about ten gallons each 12-hour work day. In order to get those ten gallons, I often had to drive to several gas stations to see if they were open and had fuel available and then stand in line for two to three hours before I could buy my day’s allotment.

To avoid hoarding, no station would sell you more than 20 gallons. Many wouldn’t sell you more than 15 gallons. That means that every day or so, I had to search for fuel. We were based in a low-rent area of town and it took two weeks for the power to be restored to our building.

Even if you have a spiffy SUV with four-wheel-drive and a six-inch suspension lift, you may not have fuel. When I ride by on my bike, I will snicker to myself.

But What About My Stuff?

You’re right. I don’t have enough room on my bike or in the bike trailer for a nice collection of 18th century Mexican art. For that, I’d need an SUV or minivan.

Still, nothing I have is worth dying for. Quite frankly, I’d probably be better off if half my stuff was gone anyway. Chances are, it’ll be there when I get back. If it isn’t, I’ll get new stuff. Or, better yet, I won’t.

All I need is a bike each for me and the wife and the kid in his bike trailer and we’ll be out of town before you’re out of the gas station line.

So, while you’re thinking about the next disaster to hit your home town, give a little thought about how you’re going to get out of town. Even if you decide to take the car, you may want to strap the bikes on the back in case you need to get home again.

—Matt