Channeling my inner-thirteen-year-old girl self

Pretend this is a tree or outer space. It's less gross that way.

I’ve been channeling my inner-thirteen-year-old girl and obsessing over how I’ll look to a group of dear friends I see very infrequently. Our gathering has been planned for months, and I’ve spent the last many weeks gong from 168 to 145. I’m really rather proud of my aging self. I don’t have six-pack abs, but I don’t look bad for an old guy.

Then I got mugged. When I was knocked from my bike I knew I’d cut up my leg and broken some ribs. But I just realized I was also badly bruised on my left side around the waistline. I’m very swollen there. So swollen that it looks like I have a big ol’ pile of ugly blue muffin top fat exactly where I just lost it. Sure, it’s asymmetrical. I’m fine on the right side. But it’s still enough to disrupt the delicate draping of my tee shirts and creates a less than ideal impression.

I want a custom shirt with an arrow pointing that to my waist that says "NOT FAT" or to have Tricia quietly explain to my friends that it’s bruising. She’s offered to say “Curtis wants me to say…” which isn’t exactly the effect I was looking for.

This being a thirteen year old girl is sure mentally exhausting.

Antioch Police respond to my letter, and a book recommendation

Because I'm pretty much immobile I have plenty of time to meditate on my assault while bike commuting and even read a bit. Jennifer, a student from years ago and now a friend as well as an ace journalist, sent me a "recover-well" gift: The wonderfully interesting "Lanterne Rouge," a fascinating book about the men who come in last during the the Tour de France. It's well researched, well written, and a lot more compelling than you might guess. I'm enjoying it a lot.

I've also had time to write letters and emails. I wrote one to the Antioch Police Department with some questions about my incident and crime in general. I'll include it at the end of this post. Much to my surprise I got a response in the form a phone call from a Police Department representative.

I was surprised when she told me that my case isn't an Antioch Police Department case. The Delta DeAnza Trail is not in their jurisdiction. It's under the East Bay Regional Parks Police. The Antioch PD officer who took my report was taking a "courtesy report." It's not an Antioch case, so there is no Antioch investigation or followup. I didn't ask, but I'll bet it doesn't end up as a violent crime in Antioch's crime statistics. She told me that the report was forwarded to East Bay Regional Parks Police. Being relatively immobile right now, I may have the time to write them and ask some of the same questions.

I asked how big a deal a robbery with a gun resulting in an injury assault was. Her careful response was that being as this isn't an APD case it won't receive any further attention from them. When pressed, she said this is not an unusual event for Antioch.

I want to be clear I have no complaints about the Antioch Police. I don't know what more they could have done. I'm more concerned that I live in an area where a crime like this is not noteworthy in any way. I don't need to be the center of attention, but I wish I lived somewhere that this was so unusual it warranted  a newspaper story, warning flyers posted along the trail and just a touch of public outrage. Alas, that isn't the case.

At least I have a book to read...

Letter to the Antioch Police

Dear Antioch Police Department 

I was assaulted and robbed at gunpoint on Wednesday, July 29 as I bike commuted on the Delta De Anza Trail behind Turner School. The encounter left me injured and required a hospital visit. At this point I am still barely mobile. Antioch Police officer Amel Sahnic came to the scene and took the report, case number 15-7492  For the record, I suffered three fractured ribs, a large wound on my knee that required stitches, an odd shoe-sole cut on my head as well as other cuts and massive bruising. I hope to be able to return to teaching when the semester starts, but don’t know for sure. 

As a “regular old citizen” of Antioch I have little understanding of police procedure or perspectives. I really don’t know how you approach your jobs, or even exactly what that job entails. I don’t have any complaints, but I have questions and I’m hoping you might have time to answer a few.

I’m not sure how to word this so it has the right tone, so please read this with an open mind. 

How big of an event is this for the police and Antioch? I know it is for me, but have we reached a point where having a 61 year old college professor attacked, robbed at gunpoint and sent to the hospital is hardly news? That crimes like this are common enough that this one doesn’t even stand out? I have no expectations about what you should do, but would like to know if it’s now something unfortunate that happened in the past, or is this case a continuing concern. 

I’d also like to know if I’m part of a trend. Have there been other robberies or attacks along the trail there? If there have been, does it appear to be the same people, or different perpetrators? 

Has APD been able to make any efforts to increase safety along this trail? As a bike commuter, I hope to get back in the saddle as soon as I heal. The nearby roads aren’t bike friendly. I’m looking for information that will help me make decisions about my commute. 

Does APD coordinate or share information about incidents like my attack with other agencies connected to the trail, like East Bay Regional Parks or Pittsburg PD?  

Thanks for taking the time to read this, and thanks in advance for any reply you’re able to make. 

Just in case you’re interested in my details, reactions and comments, I blog on my Curtis in Bicycle Land blog 

The story of my attack: http://tinyurl.com/onfftmh 

Followup: http://tinyurl.com/oald4oh 

Assault updates and some happier news

Tricia was on a mission in July. She wanted to see if she could average 30 mile a day. Tricia managed to ride every day, and also rode, if not 30 miles, almost 30 and often more. By the time August rolled around she'd logged 1012 miles — 1628 kilometers for you euro-oriented statisticians. That's about like riding Antioch to Yellowstone National Park –  a long way. I didn't photograph her accomplishment at the end as I was busy being a lay-about do-nothing. She had to shoot her own selfie out on Empire Mine Road.
 

In less interesting news, I visited Kaiser Hospital for follow a up on the injuries I suffered after being mugged on my bike commute. It turns out my cracked rib is actually three fractured ribs. Somehow having a larger number, and using the term "fracture" rather than "cracked" makes me feel better. It means that all this pain is real, and I'm not being a total wimp. It just sounds more serious.  I recieved this information when I visited Kaiser's "Minor Injury Clinic." Minor Injury? Really? Why can't they call it the "OMG, That Must Really Hurt Clinic" or something a little more supportive. Think how cool that would look on their sign, or a business card.

I've been through enough that I deserve a treat, right? So, with my breakfast Peets coffee and New York Times I'm having a slice Jaime's peach pie. #breakfastofchampions

A photo posted by curtis corlew (@cccorlew) on Aug 5, 2015 at 8:24am PDT

Bike commute assault followup

I was assaulted while bike commuting two days ago. I posted about it on this page. This is a followup to that post.

Tricia pointed out I always wanted a tribal tattoo or some cool ritual scarification. This weird mark, perhaps a shoe print, on my head, has me covered.

Questions I've been asked:
How are you doing? You rode your bike away afterward, so not too bad, right?
I think shock must have helped me ride away. I sure couldn't come close to riding now. Standing up it a real challenge. Walking hurts.

I foolishly didn't take pain meds last night (I guess I want to be tough.) I couldn't get out of my chair. I am amazed how much I hurt. Here's a photo of my bloody knee (as link rather than embedded image so you can skip it.) My cracked rib three fractured ribs aren't as visually dramatic, but it's what causes the most pain. It seems almost every movement we humans make connects to our core, and involves that area.

We all know the definition of "minor injury" is an injury that happens to someone else. I'm sure legally I'm "minor." But it happened to me, so it sure doesn't feel minor. It's difficult to predict the future, but I'm worried about the start of the Los Medanos College semester in two weeks, and wondering how I'll negotiate all that entails.

How am I doing? I wouldn't call it "OK." But I could be a lot worse.

Why didn't you get a better description?
It was all so fast. I rode almost past the two people, seeing only their backs. I could feel, or see in my peripheral vision an explosive move toward me, then boom, I was on the ground, and hurting.  All my memories from this point are disjointed and blurred, like an action sequence in a bad movie. I remember them yelling "Where's your wallet," waving a gun, and reaching into my jersey pocket to grab my phone. I have a flash of a shiny gun, and — this makes no sense — the other person holding, perhaps fumbling, with a hand full of bullets. The next thing I remember was them quickly moving away across the Turner School field, glancing over their shoulders.

I'm not military, nor do I have police training. My athletic-processor brain just isn't that quick (ask my tennis partners) and I wasn't expecting it. I just didn't see much, and I processed even less.

I did get a crime-stopper tip that I hope you'll never need: Note the shoes. People change shirts and jackets when running away, but not shoes. Alas, I remember no shoes.

Why didn't you track your phone?
I tried. As soon as I'd ridden to the hair salon where I called the police and Tricia, I used my laptop, their wi-fi and iCloud to "Find my iPhone." The bad guys had turned it off. It can't work with the phone off. I tried many times throughout the day, but never got a signal.

iCloud has a feature you can set that  issues a command to wipe (delete all data) on the phone next time it connects to the internet, which pretty much means next time it's turned on. I used that feature. I also set it to display "Please return to Los Medanos College Police Services."  In theory that's all it can do now. At around 1 A.M. I got an email informing me my phone was being erased. The date time on the message says 4:16. I'm not sure if that's PST or Eastern, or if it matters.

My phone also had a long password, so I'm reasonably sure my data isn't compromised.

Perhaps I should have used the "lost phone" feature that merely locks the phone and displays a message I could choose. It also would have reported the phone location to me. But I was still in a bit of shock, and was thinking it was more important I do what I could to not let any data fall into the wrong hands. And, really, are the police going to come screaming down upon some location I give them? I certainly wasn't going to go there and ask for my phone back.

My phone was insured, and a new one is on the way. I had a large deductible and need a new protective case, so I am out a bit of money.

I was surprised how smoothly dealing with Sprint, my cell carrier, was. The woman I spoke with was kind, sympathetic and made the process easy. The insurance part was a simple web page. Perhaps that's really all bad news in that so many phones are stolen they have the process down.

Are you going to keep riding your bike, and riding this trail?
I'm telling myself this isn't a good time to make decisions. Sure, I'll ride as soon as I can. How I'll commute, I just don't know. There really aren't any good alternate routes.  And, ironically, in the last two weeks Los Medanos College installed a very nice paved connector between the trail and campus. I'd been advocating for his path for years. Can I really not use it? I don't know what I'll do. I'm postponing decision making.

Could you have prevented this? Can you be more safe?
I've asked myself this again and again. I don't know. Do I reverse course whenever I see two young men if I'm alone? Is that practical? How unsafe is this area? Am I riding through a truly dangerous area every day?  I just do not know.

I know that if I'd had pepper spray, a baton or a Taser it wouldn't have helped. They'd likely have taken it away and used it on me. And heck, they had a gun. A GUN! That's option-limiting. I'm not a quick-draw artist. If I had a gun I'd have to ride with it in my hand to be ready. What could possibly go wrong? A gun just does not seem practical, or even a remotely good idea.

Friends
People have been so nice to me. And even though I'm a grumpy old guy, having my friends, relatives, and even people I don't know, reach out with a kind word, a short email, or a Facebook comment has made a me feel so much better. I really enjoyed the Editable Arrangement from Jaime and Ganesh. The fruit was good, and I used the helium to make my voice sound like a chipmunk. Tricia's taking good care of me, and even my kids Erin and Eddie came over to visit.

I got a wonderful get-better treat from Jaime and Ganesh! It's an Editable Arrangement and it's here just in time for lunch. 

I can't really move, so blogging and Facebook have been wonderful ways to fill the day with something more intellectually active than watching TV.

My questions about crime and life in general
Has Antioch come to the point where a 61 year old professor can be assaulted, injured, held up at gunpoint and it's just business as usual? I don't expect the PD to conduct a house to house search. Heck, I don't know what I'd like done. But the apparent fact that this is not a big deal at all makes me sad. That means it's not news. It's something that happens all the time. And that frightens me.

There's an old story that goes "How do you boil a frog?" The answer is that you start with cool water and then slowly turn up the heat. The frog doesn't notice until it's too late and can't get out. (Apparently this isn't really true, in reality the frogs just jump out.)  But I'm wondering about Antioch and myself. I love my house, I love teaching at Los Medanos College. I love being able to ride my bike to work. But at what point is enough too much? When did some Jews realize things were going south in Germany and bail out? Is it silly to stay, or silly to plan to spend money I don't have to move to somewhere that's farther away from work and that would give me an unpleasant commute (in a car!)?

And what about my fellow man? Do I live in fear of young men? Of people with short hair? Of people about 5'6"? Of people with any of the surface attributes my attackers have? What's prudent? What's paranoid?

My good friend Trine is so positive about, well, everything. She points out that while Antioch has problems, there are also numerous kind and caring people here. I'm trying to channel her good attitude. But, I find myself asking not if there are good people here, but rather, have we've reached a critical mass of not-well-meaning people? What is the tipping point?  Are we there or past it? As the Clash sang back in the 80s, should I stay or should I go?

Government bicycle plans, oh joy!

Does this sound sexy or what?
The Contra Costa Transportation Authority 2009 Countywide Bicycle and Pedestrian Plan Public Review draft meeting.
And yet Tricia and I went with our friend Joyce to the bus station office to check it out.

If you ever wondered why government has so much trouble doing anything right, this meeting would have confirmed your concerns, but not provided a lot of hope for the future. What with overlapping state/county/city jurisdictions, agencies with conflicting concerns wrestling over limited funds and a general lack of interest in many communities, it may be the most amazing thing is that anything happens at all. Ever.

The big bottom line for us in Antioch is that the report shows that our city has spent zero money on bike or ped projects in the past five years. That's right. Nothing. Our neighboring cities, Brentwood and Pittsburg have some work going on, but Antioch has nothing. They've even removed some bike lanes.

Antioch doesn't even have have a bicycle/pedestrian advisory committee.

Though the CCTA does get some funding, it turns out cities have to apply for it. My guess: Antioch won't. Let's see what happens.

Ride of Silence 09 Antioch

It was a thrill to see 35 cyclists show up for the Ride of Silence in Antioch. I was worried that only Tricia and I would show. But many Delta Pedalers, the local bike club, came, and perhaps even more exciting, my daughter Erin got the message out to a lot of her fixed gear friends who came too. Tricia had purchased two rolls of ribbon for armbands. It wasn't enough! We ended up safety pinning smaller pieces on riders. Red bands if you'd been injured -- and almost half had been in run-ins with cars -- and black bands for honoring fallen cyclists. We were a part of 216 rides in 16 countries.

There aren't a ton of cyclists in Antioch. At least that's what I'd thought. And I certainly wasn't aware of the young guys fixed gear community. But there they were. What a cool bunch of young men. And the way they ride those fixies. Amazing. I think they had a good time.

I'd put on the poster "Wear a helmet" but these guys came without them. I didn't feel like I could send them away, so they rode helmetless. What's a guy to do?

We did a very slow lap around North-of-the-freeway Antioch. Many people waved, gave us a thumbs-up, or honked in support. I'd been a little concerned about the ride in that this city isn't used to seeing a large group of cyclists become the traffic. But Antioch came through quite nicely. Only one car-driving misdirected soul threw fast food trash at us. Much better than I had worried about.

I need to find money for pizza when I do this next year. Those fixie boys are really thin.



More photos by Branden Hays on his web site.

Black Diamond Mines in the dark

The summer is ending for us. We're getting ready for school again. As an end-of-the-season treat Tricia and I... Well, really just me.... thought it sounded like fun to ride through Antioch's Black Diamond Mines area at sunset and then ride home in the dark. I put the knobby-tired wheels on my mountain-bike-turned-commuter bike, charged up the lights and convinced Tricia that fun would occur.

And it was almost fun, in a different sort of way. We're both road cyclists. Our Mountain riding is really trail riding. I never "take it off any sweet jumps," and "technical decent" is not part of my vocabulary. None the less, off we went up the fire trail. The gravel fire trail. The uphill, loose gravel, who-needs-traction fire trail. It wasn't too bad, but having my wheel slip occasionally was disconcerting.

Then, as the light faded we got to the wall.

I swear I remember riding all the way up it in the distant past. Not tonight. It'd steep, but that's OK. What isn't is how loose it is. Between the gravel and the dust not having my wheels just spin became too hard. I ended up pushing. I hate pushing bikes. It feels like a moral failure. I like riding bikes, not taking them for a walk. Yet there I was, pushing slowly in too many spots. By the time we made the ridge the daylight was mostly gone, so we decided to head North and drop down to the road instead of East and back through the park.

All is good, even though descending, even slowly, in the dark with a light was more worrisome than I'd thought it would be we got to the road and started our nice downhill run. Listening to the knobbies hum on the pavement as we floated down was really fun.

Then suddenly I feel psssttttttt, psssttttttt, psssttttttt. I'd puncutured. The rhythmic escape of air as my wheel turned changed to the sound of floppy tire on pavement and I slowed to a stop.

The day had turned night, as in dark, but we had lights. I pulled rear wheel, checked inside the tire for sharp stuff and popped in the new tube, inflated and hopped on. Psssssstttt. I must have missed something; I was flat again.

We gave up. Tricia started riding home and I pushed my bike a mile or so to the park entrance where I waited an hour for her to come back with the car. When I got up the next morning I realized I didn't have my cell phone. Whoops. I rode back to where I thought I might have dropped it, there it was, right in the road, not run over.

Today I'm going to put the skinny commuter wheels back on the bike.

Last year vs this year

It was a year ago the Tricia and I went on our first organized ride -- a 30 miler through Lodi. It was a big deal. This Sunday we knocked out 35 around Antioch as a no-big-deal afternoon jaunt. Kinda cool for us! Such a small thing I didn't even photograph it.
In other news, it's getting darker sooner. Tricia has her light charged up and is mentally preparing for her commute through some... interesting... after dark areas.

Commuter babe

Tricia moved from Dallas Ranch to Antioch Middle School, but she's still bike commuting. New this school year is her rack and trunk. It's a Topeak. The sides fold down to make room for more eighth-grade English papers than you'd ever want to haul home, much less read. Tricia rocks!