The Hidden Side of Chicago's Bike Routes: The House of Bing

When I first started riding in Chicago, the "everyday" rides were less than ten miles...from where I lived in Andersonville to maybe Diversey and back. The longer rides would take me a day just to plan. 30 miles was an event. I'd even make a couple sandwiches. It would take me at least 90 minutes to reach Promontory Point. I'd take my lunch and book and spend half the day getting there and then staying there, relaxing on the green lawn and reading or napping.

My first ride to Kenosha turned out to be a journey of Columbian proportions. I set out one Saturday morning, Memorial Day Weekend, in 2004, with one Clif Bar and no rain gear. I almost called them from the Great Lakes station, but 6 hours later, soaked and shivering, I pulled into my Aunt and Uncle's house and promptly fell asleep for 4 more hours.

Things have changed quite bit. Now a full ride on the path round trip from Irving to the Cultural Center at 75th takes about 2 hours, including 4 miles each way to get there. Last week I did a team ride of 90 miles in under 5 hours.

In other words, less than 4 years ago, a bike trip to the south side could literally occupy half of my weekend. Tonight, I rode there in under an hour, to have dinner, on a weeknight.

Which leads me to say, that as we grow as riders, so should we grow as people. For so many of us, the destination is the bike. It's only the route. We ride past the same scenery day after day, chatting with our friends and teammates, barely giving what's on the periphery a second thought. Funky restaurants, Frank Lloyd Wrights, world class temples, archaic icons.

I think it's time to take a closer look. Less than 200 years old, Chicago is a city with a far richer history than most people realize, and a diverse underbelly that would give any social scientist pause. It deserves more.

This new series, The Hidden Side of Chicago's Bike Routes, was born out of that impulse to go deeper than just the ride.

So it is only fitting that I begin with the twinkle that started it all, a wondering question about the nondescript, beer-sign lit windows of House of Bing. That strange little Chinese restaurant at the very end of the lake front path, across the street from the South Shore Golf Course and the Cultural Center, where so many Chicago-area cyclists stop to turn around on their perfunctory training rides.



I got home from work around 6:15 and barely had time to take the dog out and change into my riding gear. I rode west from Logan Square to Elston and took my usual route downtown via Courtland to Clybourn to Wells, and over to the path via Illinois. Once there and in the stiff tailwind, I was at the end of the path in less than 30 minutes.

Mark and I met out front at 7:30. The waitress actually let us bring the bikes inside. And even though I'd brought jeans and a shirt for both of us we sat down down within the somewhat Spartan surroundings in full kit.



It was very quiet, with some locals sitting at the bar, having a drink and watching the news, waiting for the basketball game to start. It actually reminded me of the suburbans, or maybe downstate, or even from home in Alaska. Last refurbished at least 30 years ago, with tight, brick red, berber carpeting and generic restaurant supply chairs and tables, the mostly bare white walls said "southside," all the way. Far removed from the aesthetic demands of any hipsters or yuppies.



What's a Chinese dinner without a tropical drink?!



The food was actually pretty good, and the service was very personable and prompt. The veggie egg rolls were not too fresh, a bit mushy, yet still tasty. Better were the entrees we had, kung pao beef and tofu. A bit heavy on the gravy, they had a deep spiciness and were made with plentiful, crisp, fresh veggies, and served in generous quantities.



Our waiter, Jason:



The entire bill, including the drink, was under $30.

So there it is, the first bit of Chicago by bike, exposed to the light, out from under the rock.

And there is much, much more that our everyday bike routes have to show us. It was our spirit that first got us out there, so let the bike show the potential of your spirit. One of the qualities I've always prided myself on is never being afraid to try new things. To never judge a book, or in this case, a restaurant, by it cover. Or even lack of one. A quality, I've found, that it takes to be a cyclist in the first place and stay one over a lifetime.

We'll stay on the path for now, working our way north, but look out for places, buildings, and historical oddities throughout Chicago you'd never even noticed as you rode past on what you thought was your everyday route.

Next week: A Friendly bit of Fascism.

Thursday Hate

Firstly, this shit has GOT TO STOP. The moment this guy checked his concern for public welfare was the moment he stopped becoming a public servant and instead was a public menace. Simply replace the word "cyclist" with "black" or "Hispanic" and it will be completely obvious how intolerable this behavior is.

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Advertising. As. News.

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Mechanicals.

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WWBD...(What Would Burnham Do?)

Hump Day

TCW Exlusive: Inside Heavenly:





Just make sure Larry pulls the espresso for you. That was his cousin. Don't let her do it.

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Bike the Drive is less than two weeks away! Sign up now!

Regrettably this will be the first time since 2004 I have missed this event. Last year, I raced Snake Alley, then headed straight back to Chicago, and was up at 5am to ride down in the rain. This year however, I'll be staying in Iowa an extra day to race The Melon City Criterium, as well. However, don't let my regretable absence stop you from participating!

I was also unable to do my usual volunteer work with CBF this year, but in an effort to get some motivation going, here is the promotional video I produced for last year's event:



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Upcoming:
Stay tuned for an extra special race report this weekend from West Lafayette, Indiana - my first stage race! I'll be headed out with 3 other XXX-ers on Saturday morning to compete in a 35 minutes criterium that afternoon, and then the next day is the 20 mile road race followed by a 5 mile individual time trial. Should be quite painful, to say the least.

Also, next week I will be debuting a new series here on The Car Whisperer, "The Hidden Side of Chicago's Bike Routes."

First up? Three words: "House of Bing."

Twofer Tuesday

The Boy's crooning is floating over
That twangy 80s deep, rumbling lilt and
Came stirring that months buried buzz
As my hands got darker and grittier.

Did you see her? Those eyes said a lot.
Out of the cavernous echos of shouts for help
I felt the heat as if burned by a brand
And wanted nothing else but more and more pain.

So I looked at the scar, and brushed at it
Tenderly, letting my fingers linger over the
Rough bumps and ridges, as of a mountain range
That's been laid bare by time and wind.

A burst of energy from millennia of drift
To reawaken the raw, nervous, jagged edges
And relight a fire deep within, rising up
To surround it and ingnite the glow.

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You know why people love me? Because of my rapid-fire non-sequitors:

I am a Cat 4 bicycle racer. So why do I keep getting "Cat 5 Tattoos"?? I am seriously the laughing stock of the team. After every single ride, my calves are covered with new grease stains, and no one fails to point it out.

Is my form that bad? Too much grease on my chain, or too dirty? I know I have big legs, but come on!"



I think I know what the problem is. Not coincidentally, I still RACE like a Cat 5.

So the solution is a Catch-22, loosely speaking: I need to race better and smarter, and when I finally do start getting results, maybe I will stop getting them. Or maybe I need to figure out how to stop getting them, and I will start racing smarter and getting results.

UPDATE:

Thanks, Jeff...I think you nailed it...not only is pro always looking your best in kit and wearing your sunglasses on the outside of your helmet straps...it's also clipping out the left leg first when stopping and in when starting . Even if you are left handed and prefer the other.

Mystery solved. Salt tossed. Cat swung. On to results.

Dumb Crash Survey

What was your dumbest crash, ever? Regardless of bike, location, race/commute/circus-bear-trike whatever...


The scene: Friday night, Logan Square. I'd gotten my race bike back earlier that evening from Mission Bay after some much needed maintanence. I'd put on my new cleats and was headed out for a quick recovery ride, and to check and see if they'd been able to take care of all the noises that were coming out of my headset, plus anything else I was completely paranoid about.

It's about 10pm. I head north on Kedzie for several blocks, jumping several times and torquing the shit out of the handlebars and don't hear any noise. I turn around and then head west on Wrightwood, past the apartment in the other direction. Kick a few times, nice easy spin, getting loose for Saturday's long ride. I turn around at Pulaski.

Heading back, almost at Sawyer, I sight my line up to the sidewalk and metal gate out front. Planning on a little self-showy flair on a quick dismount. I make my cocky approach like Sorriano on a shallow fly ball...

...and miss the ramp, and hit the curb straight on.

I crash right on the sidewalk in front of my fucking apartment on an AR ride.

Rash on top my of SLO crash scars, swollen elbow and hip, and a flat front tire.

And to pile it on...as I'm lying there, swearing on the pavement (at least I wasn't in kit) a creaking, squeaking commuter comes slowly rolling by, straight out of a John Hughes movie. Doesn't even give me a second look.

Post your stories in the comments.

...and the self-entitlement continues...

Seems last week a man named Jay Weinberg climbed up on the roof of a gas station in Valporasio and began singing a protest song, "Price Gouge'n." A growing crowd of supporters and sympathizers gathered below to watch the show that culminated with Weinberg getting removed from the roof by firetruck ladder and being hauled off to jail.

I guess I'd have to say politely that I wouldn't have been one of those sympathizers, as I most likely would've just ridden past on my bicycle, laughing at the entire scene. I of course ask for correction if somebody can, but I am willing to bet there isn't a lyric in that song about any alternative modes of transportation, except possibly to mock them.

As I discussed with a friend on the way home from a 90-mile ride this past Saturday, as long they keep buying it, they're gonna keep paying for it. That's the reason we'll $6 a gallon before next summer, maybe sooner, and Exxon-Mobile's profits are coming in at over $1000 a minute.

I of course celebrate all this, because $6 a gallon for gas is exactly what this country needs to wake up from this nightmare of car-culture and infrastructure and finally see that peak oil is here, and the solution to sustainability is right next to them, or pedalling past them, in the bike lane - as they wait for 6 stoplight cycles to finally get through the intersection.

And click-clacking through the train-crossing.

And walking to work in and through sound, thoughtful, visionary urban planning.

Of course, 80% of the population will just kill each other when they can no longer listen to their Toby Keith mp3s while sitting in gridlock on the way to work in Oak Lawn from South Barrington...and if you can just stay the fuck out of the way of that one, life could be pretty sweet on the other side.

Until then, hang on, this one's gonna be a mother.

Happy Mother's Day

I wrote these just now, and they're in print, and intransit, enclosed in a couple of beautiful little cards, to Alaska and North Carolina...

A Mother's Day Sonnet:
For when you gave myself to me that day
You worked through pain and tears to show them why
A little boy to add to the bouquet
Is what the world needs up among the sky.
And ev’n through the bad grades and behavior
And all the sass and lip I gave to you
Your hugs and smiles and cookies were my savior,
The quiet nights in summer sunlight, too.
I know not how to pay back what you’ve giv’n
For I could live a lifetime, quite simply,
To try and fulfill that joyful burden
And pass on all the love that you gave me.
Our lives are short, painfully fleeting
But a Mother’s love is forever moving.


A Stepmother's Mother's Day Sonnet:
It couldn’t have been too easy to be a Mom
To those two kids who just showed up that night
Instructions? A handbook? Tried to stay calm
Would be a summ’r to remember, all right.
The fighting over covers and bed space,
The smelly shoe hunts from Duffy’s toe-jam,
From the nights at the yellow-brick-road place,
And real Cherry Cokes, the ocean where we swam.
You were the other side of my penny
The other way of seeing the ink blot
It was a summer as trying as any
But we needed you and the life that you brought
Because from Day One you were our Mother
And wouldn’t have been with anyone other.