David Brooks gives Obama the old reductio ad nazium. I might bookmark this article to use as an example should I get to teach an introductory logic course.
This follows his much discussed (see here and here, for example) misreadering of Geoffrey Canada's Harlem Children's Zones. I think Brooks must be in some sort of slump...
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
My First Bike Crash
I sort of expected this to happen. The roads were wet. Portions of the greenways were flooded. Torrential downpours visited us sporadically. I neglected to put my better tires on the bike. I had just received a cautionary tale, as a friend of mine (and much more experienced cyclist) had a horrible crash a couple of week before, trashing his Cervelo P3 and putting him in the hospital.
All of these had given me cause for caution. I left my tri-bike at home, opting for the more stable geometry of my road bike. I took the descents slow. About forty miles into the ride, I approached a right-hand turn on a mild descent in Shelby Bottoms. I couldn’t have been going more than 15 mph. As I leaned in, I felt the rear wheel start to slide out from under me. I shouted something inane, like “Wheel!” I tried to unclip and get a foot down, but I was too late. The rear wheel slid all the way around and I began to slide down the hill on my right side, feet forward. After skidding to a stop, I jumped up immediately to survey things. To my annoyance, both shifters on the bike were damaged, as were both derailleurs. I found myself wishing I could have crashed on the left side so as to save the drive train. I got around to checking myself over. To my amazement my clothes were untorn. The skin underneath my clothes was not as lucky. My right hip was scraped and bruised. It grew a welt the size of a baseball. My chin was bloodied, as were my knees and shoulders. My shins were also a little bruised.
Which is all to say I got away with mild road rash, bruises, and some damaged components. As far as bike crashes go, this may warrant a reference to old Dr. Pangloss—it isn’t the perfect crash, but it may be the best of all possible crashes. After hearing about the crashes on the Giro—broken vertebrae, colar bones, shattered bikes, etc.—I harbor no complaints. The fact that the crash happened was my fault. But the fact that it wasn’t worse is also to my credit. I wasn’t so dumb as to try to hit the turn at normal speed.
Lessons learned:
1. It doesn’t take much to lose a wheel. I took the turn pretty slowly, sliding out at 10-15 mph instead of 20-25 mph. Had I been going any faster, the bike and I would have been much worse off. I can’t imagine crashing any faster than that.
2. Shaving might make sense. It’s pretty tough to dig little bits of asphalt out from furry legs. That said, I’ve heard enough humorous stories about shaving to convince me that this is a lose-lose scenario.
3. Gloves are important. My hands are unscratched. Without gloves, they would have been a bloody mess.
4. Don’t use the same rear tire on your bike trainer and for riding on wet roads. I wonder if my tire would have tracked better had it not been worn down a bit by my trainer.
5. If you have the option, ride your less expensive bike when you’re in dangerous conditions. It is some consolation that my somewhat more expensive tri-bike was sitting safely at home.
6. All the usual safety stuff applies—wear a helmet, carry a cell phone, et cetera. My riding partner helped me bend the derailleur back into shape enough for me to ride the five miles back to my house, but had the wreck been worse, we would have needed to call in some assistance.
All of these had given me cause for caution. I left my tri-bike at home, opting for the more stable geometry of my road bike. I took the descents slow. About forty miles into the ride, I approached a right-hand turn on a mild descent in Shelby Bottoms. I couldn’t have been going more than 15 mph. As I leaned in, I felt the rear wheel start to slide out from under me. I shouted something inane, like “Wheel!” I tried to unclip and get a foot down, but I was too late. The rear wheel slid all the way around and I began to slide down the hill on my right side, feet forward. After skidding to a stop, I jumped up immediately to survey things. To my annoyance, both shifters on the bike were damaged, as were both derailleurs. I found myself wishing I could have crashed on the left side so as to save the drive train. I got around to checking myself over. To my amazement my clothes were untorn. The skin underneath my clothes was not as lucky. My right hip was scraped and bruised. It grew a welt the size of a baseball. My chin was bloodied, as were my knees and shoulders. My shins were also a little bruised.
Which is all to say I got away with mild road rash, bruises, and some damaged components. As far as bike crashes go, this may warrant a reference to old Dr. Pangloss—it isn’t the perfect crash, but it may be the best of all possible crashes. After hearing about the crashes on the Giro—broken vertebrae, colar bones, shattered bikes, etc.—I harbor no complaints. The fact that the crash happened was my fault. But the fact that it wasn’t worse is also to my credit. I wasn’t so dumb as to try to hit the turn at normal speed.
Lessons learned:
1. It doesn’t take much to lose a wheel. I took the turn pretty slowly, sliding out at 10-15 mph instead of 20-25 mph. Had I been going any faster, the bike and I would have been much worse off. I can’t imagine crashing any faster than that.
2. Shaving might make sense. It’s pretty tough to dig little bits of asphalt out from furry legs. That said, I’ve heard enough humorous stories about shaving to convince me that this is a lose-lose scenario.
3. Gloves are important. My hands are unscratched. Without gloves, they would have been a bloody mess.
4. Don’t use the same rear tire on your bike trainer and for riding on wet roads. I wonder if my tire would have tracked better had it not been worn down a bit by my trainer.
5. If you have the option, ride your less expensive bike when you’re in dangerous conditions. It is some consolation that my somewhat more expensive tri-bike was sitting safely at home.
6. All the usual safety stuff applies—wear a helmet, carry a cell phone, et cetera. My riding partner helped me bend the derailleur back into shape enough for me to ride the five miles back to my house, but had the wreck been worse, we would have needed to call in some assistance.
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