On Electic Bikes

But, before I get to ebikes, I have to report that I came within inches of being splattered on the asphalt on my morning commute when some numbskull in an SUV made a right turn without shoulder checking. So, I followed him into the parking lot, where he kept driving, clearly aware that I was tailing him. Finally, he had no choice but to stop, and when his passenger opened the door, I explained that he needs to shoulder check before making a right turn, after which she apologized (the driver refused to look at me), and then I said, "well look next time." And, now, ebikes...

I appeal to the lawmakers of this province to review the licensing requirements for ebikes. Currently, the requirements are:

• No driver's licence is required
• No written test is required
• No vehicle registration or plate is required
• No motor vehicle liability insurance is required

(from: http://www.mto.gov.on.ca/english/dandv/vehicle/emerging/e-bike-faq.shtml#a9)

Having been forced to share the road (and by that I mean bikes lanes) with ebikes, I'd say it's time for a review.  I realize that what I am about to say will strike some as hypocritical.  Or, what's worse is that I might end up appearing as ignorant as Jacob Richler.

If there's one thing I cannot stand it is those who argue that all cyclists are law-breakers and dangerous, and that's simply not true. I know that there are lots of law-abiding cyclists out there who stop at traffic lights and don't ride on sidewalks. And, of course, there are lots of responsible ebike riders, but many of my interactions have left me angry and feeling like I am in danger when riding my bicycle.

The aspect that most concerns me is having to share a bike lane with a motorized vehicle.  According to the website referenced above, ebikes would seem to be welcome in bike lanes:

E-bikes are allowed to travel anywhere bicycles are permitted to travel.  Any municipal by-law prohibiting bicycles from highways under their jurisdiction also apply to e-bikes. Municipalities may also pass by-laws specific to e-bikes that prohibit them from municipal roads, sidewalks, bike paths, bike trails, and bike lanes under their jurisdiction.

And, indeed, the city of Toronto bike lane bylaws state the following: "According to City of Toronto bike lane bylaws, bicycles must be propelled by muscular power."(http://www.toronto.ca/cycling/). So, if you are driving an ebike, please GET OUT OF THE BIKE LANE! You are breaking the law.

I have been honked at, passed very closely at high speeds, and cursed at by ebike riders. Last year, I had an altercation with an ebiker who repeatedly honked at me, and then sped by so close that her useless pedals almost clipped me.  I'm all for sharing the road, but bike lanes in Toronto are reserved for non-motorized vehicles.

Yesterday, on my cycle home, an ebike came screaming up beside me at what must have been the maximum 32 km/h. He cut in front of me and then drove up onto the sidewalk where he continued for about 50 to 75 feet before stopping. I worried that anyone exiting a store would have been hit.

I fail to see why these bikes are exempt from licensing laws. They are motorized. They travel at generally faster speeds that bikes. Someone will be hit and injured by one of these things in the future. That's a given.

Most of these things look like electric scooters, so even the name is perplexing. All riders ought to be required to take a safety course like those for motorcycles. I am opposed to the licensing of bicycles because they are non-polluting. Ebikes are polluting. The electricity most likely comes from coal or nuclear power, neither of which are green.

G20

Thankfully, I was unable to go downtown to have a look around the G20 protests.  If I had, I am sure I would have been arrested, probably for the crime of taking photos or simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, even if that place was the designated protest site.

As we have heard, the police arrested people with very little or no cause, including reporters.  I think the police ought to be held accountable for the failure to contain the violence everyone knew was coming, despite the obscene amount of cash spent on security.  The police ought to be accountable for the catch-and-release program, in which they illegally arrested people just to get them off the streets, even if they were peaceful protesters.

I am a law-abiding citizen who has never had anything but respect for our police, but I am shocked and appalled by the police tactics during the G20.  We lived in a police state during the summit.  It was like martial law without the declaration. 

We need a comprehensive and independent review of all police actions during the summit.  We also need clarity of the issue of the security fence being declared a public work.  After a brief visit to the fence to take a couple of shots, I bailed, when I saw others with cameras being searched and asked to produce ID for no reason.  

I would never have described myself as anti-police, but after the G20, I have lost faith in the police.

C@#* Explosion!

So, there I was, walking down a peaceful tree-lined street in Toronto, just minding my own business, when I shoved my hand deep into my pocket and pulled out my iPod Touch.  Ah, I love this fine piece of equipment.  It's smooth, shiny, and wonderful to hold.  I inserted the earbuds into my ears to fire up the tunes.

Remembering that wifi was still enabled, I decided to turn it off, so as to save some battery power.  As I was doing this, I noted the names of the wireless networks in this fine neighbourhood.  There were several nondescript Bell networks with boring names like BELL127; there were a few people who had applied names to their networks, like Lisa this or John that, and many such derivatives with a few pet names thrown into the mix, and possibly a superhero or two.

But then I saw a most curious wireless network called - get ready for this - Cock Explosion!  I am not lying.  Lots of thoughts passed through my head, like, what if his mother comes to visit and wants to hop on his wireless network with her little pink netbook?

Dude's Mom: "What's your network name?"

Dude: "Cock explosion."

Dude's Mom: "What?"

Dude: "Cock explosion."

Dude's Mom: "You're network is called cock explosion?"

Dude: "Yeah, cock explosion."

Dude's Mom: "Why would you call your network cock explosion?"

Dude: "Why not?  Cock explosion is a great name. It's very visual."

Dude's Mom:  "I'm afraid to ask what your network key is..."

I am sure that his dad would understand all of this, but not his mom.  A colleague told me a similar story about a network in NYC he encountered that was called something like Porn-Loving Bi-Girl.  A father would understand that too, but not a mom.

But, back to the story.  You see that I made the assumption that this is a network operated by a male.  I mean, what women would called her network Cock Explosion?  I can think of a few good names for a racy female network, and this doesn't make the list.  CG later suggested that perhaps it belonged to an escort who was very good at her job.  I am not convinced, but I give him marks for coming (if you'll excuse the gratuitous use of that word) up with alternative suggestions.

My immediate reaction is that this guy must be a porn hound.  I imagined him (but not in any great detail) ending up like Quagmire, once he had discovered the wonders of broadband.  Now, there was no way to figure out which house this Cock Explosion was emanating from, and even if I knew, I would have steered well clear of it.  There were no obvious signs anywhere as to which of these properties was home to Cock Explosion.  I couldn't see any Farrah Fawcett posters in the windows, at any rate.  I detected no one furiously closing curtain or blinds.  It was all peaceful, but I wondered, if I stood there long enough, if I would be able to hear any cock explosions.  I decided that this was not a good idea, and resumed my journey, up to a pub to meet two friends and have a beverage.

Darcy Allan Sheppard (Al)

Last night, I joined the memorial ride for Darcy Allan Sheppard, along with about 1000 other cyclists. We headed east on Bloor, rode south on Yonge to Queen Street and then headed up University Avenue. Lots of Police on bikes joined us and blocked traffic to permit the cyclists to make their way. Generally, the cars and crowd seemed tolerant, but I heard a few derisive comments from the sidelines.

In case you have no idea what happened, a couple of nights ago, Michael Bryant, the former Attorney General of Ontario, rammed into Al's bike. Al confronted the driver from the passenger side, then went round to the driver side of the car. Bryant decided to flee, so Al grabbed the car door and hung on, clearly an unwise decision. The fact that he had allegedly been drinking did not help. The amazing thing is what happened next, something that has been caught by surveillance video and witnessed by many people.

Bryant speed away at high speed on the wrong side of the street, later mounting the sidewalk in an attempt to dislodge Al from his car. He drove into mailboxes and poles before Al was finally shaken loose. In the end, his rear wheels drove over the cyclist, killing him. Al was pronounced dead at a local hospital.

It is difficult to defend the actions of an enraged cyclist who grabs onto a car, but I have to think that if I were in that situation, I would have stopped my car. What kind of a maniac makes the reckless decision to scrape the guy from his car? What was his lawyer girlfriend sitting in the passenger seat thinking about this?

Bryant was touted by some as being a future Premier of the province. This is clearly never going to happen, and I have to think that he is cursing himself for succumbing to a fit road rage. At the memorial, someone suggested that he is likely to only get 2 years. That's not enough.

As many of you know, I cycle year round in Toronto and I have had my share of run-ins with motorists. The two groups tend to hate each other, and I blame that on the lousy cycling infrastructure in this city (this view was reinforced by my recent trip to Amsterdam, which is a cycling paradise by comparison). I also blame it on distracted drivers who are always in a hurry.

Yes, there are lots of idiotic cyclists. This morning, for example, I stopped at a red light and watched as 10 cyclists passed me and proceeded through the intersection as if the light were green. This pisses me off because drivers take this as evidence that all cyclists are law breakers. I stop all all red lights. But, I may do a rolling stop at stop signs on quiet residential streets when it is safe and clear. I see nothing wrong with that.

Head over to a main street and I see cyclists with headphones, cyclists racing through red lights, cyclists peeling out of sides streets and on to main streets without looking (I often have to ring my bell at them), cyclists riding on the wrong side of the street, cyclists riding without lights, etc. Listen, my fellow cyclists, if you want respect on the roads, you must ride responsibly, even if it means waiting out 20 seconds at a traffic light when there are no cars coming the other way. To the drivers out there, please share the road. To the city, please invest in more cycling lanes and clear them in winter.

I've got the Toronto Cycling Blues

It takes only a visit to the bike-friendly parts of Europe to realize that Toronto's cycling infrastructure sucks eggs. Rolling into Amsterdam on the train, I looked out my window and could not believe what I saw. There were literally thousands of bicycles parked at the train station. So numerous were the bikes, that platforms for bike parking had been constructed to accommodate them all.

Throughout the city, bikes are everywhere, taking up all of the available parking spots. In fact, with so many bikes, there are not enough places to lock the bikes, so people have resorted to locking the wheel to the frame and then propping the bike on its kickstand or leaning it against a wall. Many bike parking shelters lack any secure object that one could use to lock the bike.

The most amazing thing is the network of bike lanes, complete with traffic signals just for bikes! There are pedestrian signals, car signals and bike signals. And, what's more impressive is that these bikes lanes are generally separated from traffic. Amsterdam is a bike paradise.

Other things I noticed:

- no one wears helmets
- most of the bikes are old-school, with few or no gears and ancient brakes
- no bike cops to be seen anywhere
- people talk on cell phones and text message while riding or driving scooters
- they pile as many people on bikes or scooters as possible

Really, we saw lots of people doubling (which I think is illegal here). I saw entire families on one scooter. We saw a woman carrying a baby in a sling on a scooter with two other kids on the back. There are bikes with huge wooden "wheelbarrows" at the front where you can drop several kids or a family of four. People are adept at riding bikes, and the only thing I saw that might have one-upped anything we saw in Amsterdam was a man in Geneva who was cycling while picking his nose. Now that probably requires a great deal of concentration.

Back in TO, I felt really nervous getting back on my bike, despite having been a year-round cyclist for years. It seems wrong to put bikes on the road with huge cars and trucks. On the second day of riding after my return, some idiot is a yellow car turned right without shoulder-checking and almost took me out. He should have to re-sit his road-test to remind him that mirrors are not enough, especially while driving on a road with a bike lane clearly marked in white paint.

Toronto languishes in the dark ages of cycling, while Europe is living the dream. This sucks and it really pisses me off.

Post-Conference

Normally, I would provide a detailed post-conference review in which I poke fun at librarians and what not. Instead, I will offer this, my favourite conversation from the conference:

Fellow Librarian: "I heard that your session was excellent."
ZF: "Really? Who told you that?"
Fellow Librarian: "Your co-presenter."
ZF: "She did? Isn't that an odd thing to say about her own session?"
Fellow Librarian: "She said you are a really good speaker?"
ZF: "Oh, well, in that case."

Things should have slowed down after the conference, but I have to run off and do an instructional session. It never ends.

Freezing Blackout

The power went out at 10:00 PM last night and stayed out until 8:30 this morning, on one of the coldest nights of the year. That was unpleasant, and it made me realize that I am not really prepared for long power outages in winter. The good news is that the power failure happened after I roasted a chicken :-)

Bin City

I am still adjusting to the HUGE recycling bin the city dropped at the house about a month ago. It's so big, it takes an entire month to fill it, and it's not even the biggest bin available! I can barely squeeze it between the houses to get it out of view. I have to lean it almost flat against the ground in two places, give it a little lift a few inches further along to avoid the outdoor faucet, and finally execute a nice counterclockwise swirl. With some coaxing, I can just squeeze her in.

I really hate the look of all of these bins all over the place, in front yards, on porches, etc. If you ask me, the City had uglified Toronto. I am all for recycling, composting, and waste diversion, but I have to think that there are better means than these enormous bins.

Soon, phase two of bin madness will be thrust upon us. Look at the size of the largest bin! It's almost as big as the model. But, I see several good uses for a bin that large:

1) use it to dispose of your couch potato husband
2) toss in your irritating and/or nosy neighbour(s)
3) you could probably fit four or five screaming children in there (depending on their ages)

In other words, the largest bin is a great body-disposal system.

In summary, I am not entirely happy with these bins, even if I can agree with the intended outcome. Now, I just have to wait and see if someone steals them.

Yorkville Music Walk


Last weekend, I joined the Yorkville Music Scene in the 1960s walk sponsored by Heritage Toronto:

Discover the birthplace of Canadian song. Visit the sites of famous clubs and coffeehouses like the Riverboat and the Penny Farthing and learn how stars such as Joni Mitchell and Neil Young got their start.

I was aware of some of the points highlighted by Nicholas Jennings, tour guide and author of Before the Goldrush. Throughout the tour, he showed memorabilia and some albums, passed along interesting trivia, and played some music. If you are interested in the early Toronto music scene, you might want to check this out, but I think you will have to wait until next year.

Although this tour concentrated on coffee houses in Yorkville, coffee houses existed in other parts of the city. For example, there was the Pornographic Onion Coffee House on Victoria Street:


Bruce Cockburn is in the upper right corner of this image, from 1969. I have no idea who the rest of the people are, however, but I think Nicholas would know. The guy in the lower left looks very familiar, and I think we talked about him on the tour, but since my memory is crap, I forget. If you know who any of these people are, please tell me.

Part Two - Held Captive on the 54th Floor (or, Superciliousness Run Rampant)

To recap: "Imagine behind trapped on the 54th floor of a building with no way to escape, short of a Hans Gruber exit."

The one thing that I find even more objectionable to religion at my door, is condescension. Waiting doesn't bother me. I waited for 15 or 20 minutes to be admitted to Toronto's second fastest elevator, and be transported to the 54th floor a mere 27 seconds after the doors closed. Now that was a speedy delivery. Once there, the patronizing began. The entrapment began. There was no way out.

Despite my preference for self-guided tours, I can understand how certain establishments may prefer to host an organized tour of the area. You don't want to let loose the yahoos in certain environments. On the other hand, you don't always want a tour that takes an hour, unless you have talented tour guides, and at the Toronto-Dominion Centre during day two of Doors Open Toronto, we did not.

The woman who gathered us together for the start of the tour actually said (and I paraphrase): "the artwork in there is more expensive than any of us can afford, so I like to tell the visitors to touch with your eyes." This came out in her best public school teacher voice and I had unpleasant flash backs to primary school trips to various places where we were chastised in advance.

This was the first time in ages that I felt like I was back in kindergarten. She actually told a group of adults, a group that went out of their way to take in a cultural event, to touch with their eyes! It got worse after that.

I'd just like to point out to the fine folks at TD that most of the people who went up to the 54th floor simply wanted to get a good view of the city. I am an art lover and was simply not interested in art that day, so when the head of the catering services came out to lecture us, in his best failed art-school-dropout manner, about the art, I wanted to scream. He actually said something like (and I paraphrase): "it doesn't matter if you like the art: what matters is that you have an opinion." Good god. I could tell that several people in the room knew more about the art than he did.

The lecture felt longer than it really was, no doubt. and when we were finally permitted access to the next room, he gave another long boring lecture about chairs, tables, lighting, and architecture. We were told to sit in chairs at the board table, but what I really wanted to do was look out of the window. I did snap a few photos from Canoe and in one other room at the end of the tour.

It felt like final bell at school when he reluctantly set his captive audience free. What a relief. Next year, I suggest that they place volunteers in each room and allow people to pass through the rooms at their own pace. I would have been out in 1/3 of the time.

I would have filled out an evaluation after the tour, but I felt like I had lost so much time, I couldn't be bothered. So, this is my evaluation. Count me out next year.

Held Captive on the 54th Floor

Imagine behind trapped on the 54th floor of a building with no way to escape, short of a Hans Gruber exit. But, the theme of captivity started much earlier in the day, the second day of Doors Open. First, I visited the Hare Krishna Temple on Avenue Road.

I am not averse to removing my shoes if asked. I was entering a holy place after all, and so I removed my shoes and placed them in a shoe hole, then wandered into the temple, hoping to have a look around and maybe take some photos. Instead, I was met by a devotee who apologized profusely for having been occupied with another visitor. Instead of leaving me to my own devices, he brought me over and assured me that he would offer a recap at the end to cover what I had missed.

And then, he proceeded to dump huge amounts of information about the Hare Krishna beginning with a photo of George Harrison. I was dying to leave, and not because of any antipathy to the Hare Krishna. I mean, I love their song, mostly because I am a fan of highly repetitive music. It's just that I had seen the temple and had a huge list of other places to go. Then, the refreshments person came by and apologized for not having the refreshments ready.

The whole time, some other devotee - with one tuft of hair on the back of his head - paced around the balcony that enclosed three fourths of the building. He was as mesmerizing as a pendulum, so exact in his pacing. Back and forth he went, almost like a rat in a cage, checking and rechecking for an exit or for enlightenment. I wondered if he was some sort of automaton. Back and forth he went with such deliberate precision I had to stop watching, though it was difficult to avert my eyes.

Soon enough, we got the onion and garlic speech. The minutes were ticking by and I was dying to leave, so I said: "Excuse me. I am really sorry, but I have to leave. I have some more engagements." The dude looked hurt, really. He tried to get another devotee to take me, and then I got the real sense that I was being proselytized to, and when that happens, I flee or slam doors. "Just five more minutes," he pleaded. You would have thought that his world was ending, just because I decided to bail.

I imagine that he cursed me, the garlic and onion eater, as I left to find my shoes.

* * *

So, this is a misnamed post. The 54th floor story will have to come tomorrow.

Doors Open, Day Two

Today wasn't quite so good, for a number of reasons, but perhaps I will post about that later. My travels took me to:

Hare Krishna Temple
Chapel of St. Catherine, Massey College, University of Toronto
Anshei Minsk Synagogue
Campbell House Museum
Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts
Canada Permanent Building
Design Exchange (former Toronto Stock Exchange)
Toronto-Dominion Centre
St. Lawrence Hall
Metropolitan United Church
St. Michael's Cathedral
First Evangelical Lutheran Church
MaRS Centre

I'm very hungry...

Doors Open, Day One

I am rather exhausted after my trek across the city on bicycle. I made it to these buildings today during the scheduled 10:00 to 5:00 openings:

Soldiers' Memorial Tower at the University of Toronto
Massey College University of Toronto (outside & courtyard only)
Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at the University of Toronto
St. Thomas's Anglican Church
Church of the Redeemer
Japan Foundation
Annesley Hall at the University of Toronto
Emmanuel College at the University of Toronto
Christie House and Fontbonne Hall at the University of Toronto
Ontario Legislative Building (Queen's Park)
Canada Life
Old City Hall
City Hall
Osgoode Hall
Commerce Court North
St. George-the-Martyr
401 Richmond
Robertson Building
St. Stephens-in-the-Fields Anglican Church

I just need to plan my excursion for tomorrow. Oh, and I need a good night's sleep :-)

Pissed Off

To the scurvy bastard who walked up to my house last night, opened my green bin, dumped the decaying smelly organic material all over my property, and then stole my green bin, I hope something terrible happens to you today - like you accidentally flush your keys down the toilet or a pit bull bites you in the groin.

***

The city's web site states that I have to purchase a new bin, which is exactly the reason some thief made off with mine. Offering replacement bins is clearly the thing to do. I tried calling the city, navigated the menus, and finally heard: "to speak with an agent, press 4." The next sound I hear was a busy signal!

Moments later, I tried calling the Canada Customs and Revenue Agency. After locating the proper phone number and verifying that I was calling within operating hours, I again got a busy signal. I set up a login for the My Account feature at CCRA, which is a laborious process. It took ages to enter all of the information, and when I had finally done it, I was told that I would have to wait for, like, 5 days until they mail me a security code.

Now, I realize that security is important, but I already gave them my SIN number, date of birth, line 150 from a prior return, the answers to three questions, etc.

What's wrong with government agencies?

Update: They just replied to my email message to tell me that: "The City is not responsible for any lost/stolen or missing bins. You will have to purchase a new bin. The cost is $18.00 ( including taxes)." Great.

Nuit Blanche

I went to Nuit Blanche this year, the Toronto version, not the event in Paris or Rome or Sao Paulo or Berlin or ... Yeah, this was the Toronto-the-Good version. One of the first events I saw -- well, really did not see, because it was too packed with people to see -- was an event at the House of Lancaster II. This is a strip club, for those who are no aware. I squeezed in, noting a number of strollers and baby carriages, which served as a good counterpoint to the usual business of the house. Some dude was on stage making balloon animals. It was too crowded to stay, and it didn't look that interesting.

Down on Queen Street, I ended up in Koma Designs and was surprised to see a bondage scene unfolding. A scantily clad woman was being bound in ropes and hung from the ceiling. I snapped a few photos, as well as a photo of the window, which featured a leather-clad woman in fetish boots and police cap. Later, a mass of people watched the Parkours near the Gladstone.

I think I was asleep by 4:15 AM, after a night of walking, cycling, looking, and photographing. It's hard to say what I liked best. Perhaps, as a friend said, the night was not so much about the art as the festivity, or something like that: I am paraphrasing wildly. I did enjoy seeing so many people on the street, and I enjoyed the out-door exhibits better than those indoors.

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