Nothing like riding for a reason or two. Today’s ride started around rush hour and found me doing the usual, zig-zagging the side streets, tearing through quieter passages, cutting into alleys, skirting the boulevards.
3 hours, lots of pictures, and one ‘special’ washer found.
Down Highland, a road I have been on 1000 or more times, but I don’t recognize it – they’ve done away with the fun, flooding dip and put in a new road.
Tucson is fucked and likes ornamental bike infrastructure for the autos to see when they go through the underpass. Instead of fixing pot holes, they build super-art, and one eloquent tagger says it best:
My mission path brings me through South Tucson and to the South side, and a little stop down on memory lane to one of the corner stores I used to buy beer at. On 9th. Today I bought a flour product and shared my change and a few nice and thin tortillas with the bum outside. He had some banging dance music playing on his ghetto blaster, and indeed, this is a ghetto that I miss living in. It beats the shit out of midtown.
Onward to one great Tucson resource, Bearing Belt and Chain on 22nd. They didn’t have my 30mm bushing/washer. I rode further south to Ajo, deep into Industrial South Side land, and found what I needed at Tucson Differential. Going North on Country Club, I find another one of those ‘bike paths’ that goes literally nowhere. It passes a lagoon, has a bridge, and then you gotta go back onto Country Club.
It’s a waste of time to even ride on them, when they end in one block and they end like this:
I didn’t even ride through it, I walked. Tucson – an embarrassment of intentional bike infrastructure while the good old side streets work out the best. Stop trying so hard for the decorative, Tucson. Shovel, asphalt – fill them holes. Widen the shoulders. Like Airman Sheets once said: “FDS – fuck the dumb shit.”
Onto 32nd, and tucking into a tool outlet – pulled my bike through their doors. Wow, a tool supply with no bullshit – these are the kinds of places I love.
The tracks and train yard go Southeast, and all roads must abide. I came up to the tracks and instead of going counter-South and up the overpass, I went across them, riding in gravel through the tar-stench.
And onto Alvernon straight North. I hammered, and had to stop at EVERY red light. This urban riding is destroying both my knees and my brake pads. Tucson is full of wall art. The character of desolate urban environment is counterpointed by these little visions that you find all over, and what makes Tucson special.by