Blue Highways: Fredericksburg, Virginia

Unfolding the Map

Four wheels, two wheels, or even three wheels?  Which is best?  As a person who utilizes two wheels of the human powered variety for transportation, I envy motorists sometimes.  But, as William Least Heat-Moon (LHM) stops in Fredericksburg for some gas, I look at the the pros and cons of each, at least in my life.  To see where Fredericksburg sits, pedal or accelerate over to the map.

Book Quote

"Vern, in his antique ways, believed that anyone who got behind a steering wheel could rightly be expected to operate the car rather than just steer it; that's why you wee issued an Operator's Permit.  He believed the more work a driver did, the less the car had to do; the less it had to do, the simpler and more reliable and cheaper to repair it would be.  He cursed the increasing complexity of automobile mechanics.  But, as I say, he was a man of the old ways.  He even believed in narrow tires (cheaper and less friction), spoked wheels (less weight), and the streamlined 'Airflow' designs of Chrysler Corporation cars of the mid-thirties - designs Chrysler almost immediately gave up on before proceeding to build the biggest finned hogs of all.  We boys of the fifties loved their brontosaurean bulk.

"Another of Vernon's themes we laughed at was his advocacy of the comparable economy of and safety of three wheels (he drove a motorcycle with a sidecar) for city driving.  He would say to us, 'Two wheels ain't enough, and four's too many. So where does that leave you, boys?'  'Three wheels!' we'd shout back, mocking him.  'No sir, it leaves money in your jeans.'"

Blue Highways: Chapter 10, Part 1

Downtown Fredericksburg. Photo by Ken Lund and hosted at Wikimedia Commons. Click on photo to go to host page.

Fredericksburg, Virginia

At the time I am writing this post, it is a winter morning in Albuquerque.  We've had no snow yet, but we've finally gotten to the point where the mornings are very cold, around 17 degrees in the morning just when the sun comes up.

For a person who rides his bike to work, such as myself, it isn't the greatest experience, especially when the wind blows.  On those days I bundle up in layers, but not too many, so that I can be warm enough on the ride.  I put on a hat, or a snood, and after the new year my new balaclava, under my helmet and gloves on my hands to keep my hands from freezing.  No matter what kind of gloves I get, they never seem to keep my hands warm enough and I usually end up with biting cold fingers by the end of the ride.

The ride is only about three miles, and I do it as fast as possible.  While mostly downhill, it is a strenuous workout because I have to do a couple of nice rises in there.  Those mornings, however, when the wind is pushing against me so that exposed areas of my face are frozen and after a few minutes certain parts of my body are retreating rapidly like rabbits into a hole, I really wish I had a car.

The reason I don't have a car are various.  Mostly it has to do with money.  Two cars in our family would increase our costs.  We would pay more for gas, though my wife does most of the driving.  Repairs would double, especially since neither one of us has had great luck with cars so there is usually some huge thing that needs to be fixed every three years or so.  I would also have to pay $450 or so a year for the privilege of having a parking space about a half-mile away from my office, or much more if I wanted to park closer.

I am mostly fine with the arrangement, except, as I wrote, on cold winter mornings and the occasional day when I find myself having to ride to work or home in rain or, even worse, slushy snow.  Another advantage is that I get exercise, especially coming back home where my downhill turns to a steep uphill climb, and by the time I get home my heart is pumping hard.

But there are some disadvantages.  If I'm late, I'm usually really late because I can only go so fast on my bike.  I usually have to leave earlier for things that I need to get to.  Also, my freedom of movement is limited to where I can get on my bike.  I envy my wife's ability to go where she wants, even up to Santa Fe, down to Socorro or over to Gallup if she needs to.  Bike racks on the bus could make my radius a little larger, but one is limited to the bus schedule and places they go.  And the safety factor is also a disadvantage.  While Albuquerque is a relatively bike-friendly city, some drivers here see bikers as a hindrance.  This has not been helped by serious bikers, that train in Albuquerque because of the altitude, who sometimes seem to go out of their way to annoy drivers by riding in packs in the middle of the road.  The clash of bike culture and car culture, and people on both sides who don't understand the rules of the road, means that there are far too many "ghost bikes" along the sides of highways.  There is one at an intersection right next to the university where I work.

My wife and I often joke about getting a motorcycle with a side car.  The joke goes that I could drive the motorcycle, and we could outfit our dog in goggles and she could ride in the sidecar.  But that will never happen because my wife really doesn't want me on a motorcycle.  "Donorcycles" she calls them.  I've thought of getting a scooter at times, but they face the same disadvantages that a motorcycle does, though I think that my wife is worried about me on a motorized two-wheeler on the open road rather than in a city, which I think is probably more dangerous than the open road.

So when it comes to keeping money in my jeans, as LHM quotes from old story of his youth, I'll probably remain on two wheels, ride defensively and hope that I remain safe.  And I'll just suck it up with those cold winter mornings - they give me a reason to look forward to the warmer temperatures of spring when I can shed my layers and ride in shorts and a polo shirt.  And, as we look for a house, we'll just have to look for one within biking distance of my work, which is where we want to be anyway.

Musical Interlude

I debated putting this video on.  Queen's Bicycle Race was the first song that came to mind when I wrote this post.  The video, featuring naked women in a bicycle race at Wimbledon, has been linked with the song so that one can't think of the song without the images.  So, if you are sensitive to mild images of naked women riding bikes, don't watch the video.  And be assured, I'm not advocating naked bike riding nor have I ever ridden a bike naked.  Nobody wants to see that!

If you want to know more about Fredericksburg

City of Fredericksburg
Fredericksburg.com (news site of the Fredericksburg Free Lance-Star)
Greater Fredericksburg Tourism Partnership
University of Mary Washington
Virginia Tourism: Fredericksburg
Wikipedia: Fredericksburg

Next up: Spotsylvania, Virginia

Blue Highways: Savannah, New York

Unfolding the Map

We drive through Savannah and a few miles past, eventually coming upon some guys fixing a Trans-Am.  What is it about guys and cars?  I explore why I didn't catch the car bug in high school, and how sometimes I wish I would have.  Get an oil change, then drive over to the map to find Savannah.

Book Quote

"At Savannah, I found the unmarked road to Conquest (down the highway from Victory) easily enough, but staying on it was another matter...After some miles, I had no idea where I was.  I called out to five fellows pouring something into the crankcase of a Trans-Am.  These were the men who believe in the restorative power of STP as the Chinese believe in rhinoceros horn."

Blue Highways: Part 8, Chapter 5

Savannah, New York. Photo at the Wayne County Democratic Committee website. Click on photo to go to host site.

Savannah, New York

In my hometown, there were always people my age and older when I was in high school that always worked on cars.  I was not one of them.

In fact, it is still of considerable consternation to me that I did not learn any practical skills in carpentry, plumbing or in the electrical or mechanical arts.  I think to myself now how handy those skills would be and in some senses, I feel robbed that I didn't get any of this type of training.

My classmates in high school got interested in those types of skills because their fathers knew how to do them, and taught them.  They might spend a weekend with their father changing the oil or putting in a rebuilt carburetor in the family car or on their dad's truck.  When they got to the age where they could drive, they'd buy an old car and spend hours getting it into shape.  They'd help their fathers on building projects around the house, or replace some pipe underneath the house.

My dad didn't know how to repair cars.  He had some carpentry skills but was too impatient to teach me.  He'd tell me to go do something else until, it just became a matter of course for me to do something else rather than help him.  He thought he had some plumbing skills, but he really didn't have much.  And he didn't know anything about electrical systems.  The one skill he taught me the most? Gardening.

Today, I know people who can do basic things such as change their own oil, saving them a lot of money over the long haul at the service shop.  I know people who have skills in carpentry and use those skills to do everything from make minor repairs to build kitchens to build room additions to even build entire houses.  I know some people who know enough about electricity that they can make repairs to wall outlets and circuit breakers.  I know some people who can fix a drain or get under a house and make repairs to their pipes.

I can't do any of these things, and I wish I could.  When my father would do these things, I remember the camaraderie as the neighbors would come over and check out what we were doing, and sometimes get involved and help out.  Mr. Sindel, Mr. Moser, and a number of other people helped my dad build our deck, dig our well, and build our room addition.  During this time they talked about things that happened in the neighborhood, gossiped and shared stories and jokes.

I observed the same phenomenon with people who worked on cars.  My friends who worked on their own Trans-Ams, Camaros, Corvettes or even less sporty cars such as El Caminos and F-150 pickups always had someone helping them do some sort of repair.  They'd talk and argue about what needed to be done and get closer to each other as they shared tasks and shared their lives.  If one had a problem with his car, the other would come help and vice-versa as the situation required.  It's not as if I didn't have friends, as my previous post made clear.  However, I just didn't have avenues for a project or hobby, such as fixing cars, that might have given me more society.  I didn't even have a car until I was 18, and then I had an accident with my mother's car, a Capri, and had to give up mine to her (which turned out to be a terrible car anyway).

I didn't have any of that, and didn't really find that kind of camaraderie until I left my town, graduated from college and started volunteering in the inner-city, which gave me a community of like-thinking and acting people.  After that, my communities tended to be on the highbrow side, centering around education or social justice.  There was nothing wrong with my communities, but discussions tended to be academic or about what was wrong with the world.  Sometimes, however, one finds oneself wanting connection around less complex issues, where the metaphors of our existence in the universe can be embodied in a busted piston, or in an improperly hung door, or in the electrical mysteries behind a wall.

As I write this post, my neighbors across my street have about four or five vehicles parked in their front yard - projects in various states of completion.  I remember in my hometown similar places, with vehicles and shells of vehicles sitting in people's yards.  Occasionally you might even see a dismantled semi or bus rusting away in the yard.  I remember people talking about making visits to junkyards to see if they could find a working part that they needed for their engine.  And even today, I think to myself how valuable it might be to take a course on basic car repair because, I've learned, there are a lot of people like me.  I used to think that cars were a part of the male genetic makeup, and that somehow I missed out on that gene.  Of course, that's not true.  There are women who spend a lot of time under the hood, and there are men like me who barely know how to find a dipstick, or change a battery.

I realize now that I wasn't necessarily lacking something.  I was just never given the opportunity to find out if I might like using my hands mechanically, or in carpentry or some other skill.  And while I can't complain about my life, I do feel that I missed out on an important opportunity.  In another life, perhaps I might have been bent over a Trans-Am with a couple of other guys, just like LHM happened upon near Savannah, New York, trying to decipher the mystery of life, death and love in the intricacies of a transmission.

Musical Interlude

I found this song, Pretty Good at Drinkin' Beer by Billy Currington, for this post.  I also think I found my new life's ambition.  Just kidding.  I relate to most of the song - the singer tells about how he's not very good at the usual activities that men do, including fixing cars, but he is "pretty good at drinkin' beer."  I actually am pretty good at it too, especially a good hoppy IPA.

And here's Queen with an anthem called I'm in Love with My Car.

If you want to know more about Savannah

Town of Savannah
Wayne County Historian: Savannah
Wikipedia: Savannah

Next up: Conquest and Cato, New York