Saturday on the Minuteman

It's autumn in New England, and the Minuteman Bikeway just gets more and more beautiful with each ride.



Beginning at Alewife Station in North Cambridge, the "Minuteman" is an old rail line that was converted to a bikeway in 1993. Remnants of its passenger train heritage still exist, such as this "W" marker which directed engineers to blow the train's whistle...


...and this old railway car at the trail's Bedford end:


On weekday mornings the Minuteman Bikeway is one of the country's busiest rail-trails, and for good reason. Running 11 miles through the towns of Bedford, Lexington, Arlington, and Cambridge, it's a fast and direct car-free route from the historic western suburbs to Boston's Red Line subway. I like to think this makes the Minuteman uniquely "New England"; it's as practical as it is scenic.


Although shared by cyclists, runners, skaters, and people simply out for a stroll, the Minuteman Bikeway's smooth surface and yellow center-line make it easy to pass slower traffic. In fact, while the path's multi-use purpose rules out high speeds, on quiet early mornings we cyclists can still pedal along at a pretty good clip, which is quite thrilling without having to worry about cars.

The Minuteman Bikeway isn't very close to where I live, but there are two great ways for me to get to the start of the path from my home on the South Shore.

The best way is by bicycle, of course! It's a spectacular 25-mile ride, running by the beaches of South Boston...


...the ships in Boston's Cruiseport...


...commercial boats on Boston's Fish Pier...


...on bike lanes into downtown...


...through Boston's historic North End...


...and on the Charles River Bike Path.


The other way for me to get to the start of the Minuteman is to take my bike on the Red Line subway (the "T", as we Bostonians call it).


The T allows and encourages bikes on most of its lines. If you're reading this and live in the Boston area, check out the T's guidelines here.

Within the past three weeks, I've both cycled and taken the T to the start of the Minuteman. Yesterday morning I chose the T, since I wanted to get to the Bikeway as soon as possible to ride its full length and then continue out beyond its western end.

Arriving at Alewife Station around 7:45 am...


...I entered the Bikeway, which is just across the street.



I then rode the entire trail...








...taking a short detour through the center of Lexington...


...and stopping to admire the Minuteman's quirky mile markers along the way. This one indicates Mile 7. Can you figure out how?


(Hint: Think Roman numerals!)

Reaching the end of the Minuteman in Bedford, I then rode on extraordinary tree-lined roads out to the nearby town of Billerica and back.





Feeling the need for that most favorite of cycling beverages (coffee), I stopped in Lexington's Ride Studio Cafe on my way back down the Minuteman (you can read about the Cafe in my Oct. 17th post). It was full of cyclists! I enjoyed a great iced coffee while chatting with an amateur racer relocating to the Boston-area from Pittsburgh. Thanks so much to the Ride Studio for putting my Oct. 17th post on their facebook page!

After enjoying about a half-hour at the Ride Studio, I got back on the trail, rode to Alewife Station, and took the T home. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning in New England, don't you think?

The Ride Studio Cafe

On the Minuteman Bikeway...





...in the historic village of Lexington, Massachusetts...



There's a coffee shop.



Now on the surface, there's nothing special about a coffee shop in Lexington. Across the street from this Ride Studio Cafe is a Starbucks and a Peet's Coffee. And like every other town in Massachusetts, a Dunkin Donuts isn't far away.

But the Ride Studio Cafe taps into something extraordinary.

According to a historical plaque outside the old Lexington train station, through which the Minuteman Bikeway now passes...


...19th-Century Lexington was once known as a "town of taverns", a place where weary travelers could escape the cold, and enjoy good food and company before resuming their journeys.

I'm not sure Peet's and Starbucks reflect that today, but for cyclist-travelers on the Minuteman Bikeway, the Ride Studio Cafe brings the romantic notion of a mid-adventure tavern back to life -- but now as a 21st-Century cafe, with coffee and croissants rather than ale and roast mutton! The Ride Studio Cafe is a coffee shop devoted to cyclists.


What an ingenious idea! It's part high-end bike shop, part repair shop, and part coffee shop.

I stopped by the Cafe on my own journey down the Minuteman Saturday morning, and it was as if I had stepped into a vortex of cycling culture, in all its cool creative essence. After all, "coffee-shop culture" and "bike culture" are like old friends, each with a deep appreciation of community consciousness, off-beat artistry, and good story-telling.

If you plan to visit the Ride Studio Cafe but don't have a bike lock, no worries. Just bring your bike inside and park it on the rack. That's my blue bike in the foreground:


Feeling self-conscious about your biking shorts, snug-fitting jersey, cycling gloves, and helmet? Don't. On the morning of my visit most of the customers were in full cycling gear.


In fact, during my entire time there I never bothered to take off my helmet or cycling gloves!

After placing my bike on the rack, I ordered an iced coffee from the barista and sat down at a big wooden table which had an assortment of strange and wonderful cycling magazines.



I watched a bit of the 2000 Championship of Zurich that was playing on the large flat screen television...


...and then I turned my attention to those magazines and journals as I enjoyed my iced coffee (it was excellent coffee, served in a nice big glass).




Although the Ride Studio Cafe sells these hard-to-find cycling magazines, I didn't have a way to carry them home on my bike. So I can't wait to go back one night after work this week and buy them! Rouleur looked especially intriguing -- an artistic, almost avant-garde journal with thoughtful stories and striking photography.

The owner and staff kindly let me take pictures in the shop (I asked permission), but I'm always sensitive about taking close-ups of people. So although there aren't many other cyclists shown in my photos, a steady stream of customers did roll in and out during my brief time at the Cafe. One man who seemed to know everyone happily told tales of his cycling trip to Italy.

So there I was in this unique cafe, enjoying iced coffee in a tall glass, surrounded by sleek handmade bicycles, reading exotic cycling journals, all in the middle of a historic village not far from America's most popular rail-trail. It doesn't get much better than that.

I could have stayed there all morning! But now that I had discovered this super-cool place, I knew there would be more visits in the future. So it was time to get back on the bike. I paid for my coffee, left a tip in the jar, walked my bike out the door and down the sidewalk, and then resumed my journey on the beautiful Minuteman Bikeway.





But a funny thing happened as I sped down the path. Having spent time at the Ride Studio Cafe, I felt like I was no longer just a single cyclist enjoying an early-autumn ride. I was now part of the greater cycling culture. Thinking of those cutting-edge cycling journals, riders telling tales of faraway places, and the old-world artistry of handmade bicycles, I had the sense that a simple ride can inspire endless creativity.

Maybe that's why so many great stories include cafes, inns, and taverns. There's a kind of subtle wisdom in those intimate spaces. We enter, enjoy, reflect, and then resume our journey -- but somehow we're changed, just a little. The path ahead seems richer than ever, bright with possibility.

Colors of the Tour de France, Stage 21

What is it about that last little bit of a project that's always so difficult to finish? Maybe it's the final piece of trim on a new window you installed, or that oil painting you spent months working on that now sits up against a wall, simply waiting for a frame.

Or maybe you assigned yourself the project of painting a watercolor for each stage of the Tour de France, and after twenty paintings completed and posted on your blog, you just can't bring yourself to do that last one!

A deadline really is a wonderful thing. There's no way I could have done twenty-one paintings had I sat down after the Tour and said: "I think I'm going to do a painting for each stage of the 2011 Tour de France." It was the challenge of doing them quickly during the Tour itself that kept my inner critic quiet. "Just leave me alone," I'd tell it, "I have a blog to write! It's good enough!"

But the final Stage 21 painting was different. There was no Stage 22 coming up the next day. No future stages that would pile up saying, "paint me now or else you'll fall hopelessly behind!" I had all the time in the world ... which really meant I had no time at all, because when tomorrow is an option, so many more mundane things start crowding into today.

So at long last, here is my Stage 21 Tour de France watercolor!


...or maybe I should say "post-Stage 21" painting. I think I'll call it: Tour de France, The Day After. Or maybe: A Tour de France Fan Lives Here.

Unlike football, baseball, hockey, or nearly any other sport, there's no stadium for road cycling that stands during the off-season. There are only scattered remnants of races past to remind us of all the fun and excitement of a remarkable Tour, like photos, articles, blogs, books, and journals ... and a few very special jerseys, hung out to dry until next year.

In my painting, life goes on down below on the street, but you never know where a Tour de France fan might live in the windows up above, reminiscing about Tours from earlier days, keeping the magic alive.

So to all the riders, team managers, mechanics, t.v. announcers, Tour organizers, journalists, wild & crazy roadside fans, and fellow television viewers, thanks for a wonderful 2011 Tour de France! I loved every minute of it. Vive Le Tour!