Normalcy

Last friday I was on the Central Link light rail leaving Seattle…and I was late.

I had already missed the faster commuter train and was using the Link to get me closer to home so I could go fast for 20 minutes instead of having to go fast for 50 minutes.

Both put me home about the same time but one gets me home more rested – ready for a night out with The First Mermaid.

I was the fourth bike on the car and moving my Silvio side to side at each stop to stay out of the way of pedestrians, of which there weren’t many. At one stop two “fare checkers” boarded my car and swept the joint. After they were done and perhaps one minute before the next stop they approached me purposefully. By the way, they interrupted a casual conversation with a fellow cyclist about my bike that had started something like ‘that’s one hell of a bike.”.

The first one, for lack of a better name let’s call him TDee, waved and wagged his upright finger at me and my bike and said

Sir, your bicycle is not authorized to be on this train.

By this time TDum had taken his place by TDee’s side.

I was astounded. I thought they were joining the pleasant conversation I was having with the other cyclist and now I was presented with the sudden and real possibility that I would be kicked off the train, and somehow I didn’t “fit in”. And furthermore I would be REALLY late for my date. I couldn’t have that. Date’s are infrequent occurrences at best and besides…he just wagged his finger at me and my babybike, did he not?

What? Why not?

TDum this time, helpfully;

Sir, you are in the best position you can be in on this train, you really are, (referring to me being out of the way of peds) but your bike just doesn’t fit.

What is the problem? I don’t understand.

At this point who-said-what get’s a little hazy but the wording was clear.

That is not a normal bike.

I reacted to that like the mother of a small, innocent, and insulted child. I got a shot of adrenaline (probably why who-said-what gets a little hazy) which clarified my thinking and I replied, leaning forward, with a small amount of mock confusion,

What? Why…ahhh, would you please define “normal” for me? What is a “normal” bike?

TDee pointed at the bike-hanger and stammered, looking over the geometry of my front wheel drive, moving bottom bracket, 700C, short wheelbase, recumbent bicycle and was obviously confused. It clearly didn’t match his thinking and was in direct conflict with his directive…but he couldn’t figure out why or how – because there really was no problem.

I had a flash of the engagement I had two years ago with the conductor on the Sounder who claimed that my chainring being exposed, as it was, to the “people” on the train was somehow inherently dangerous and I followed TDee’s eyes to my chainring. But TDum helped out.

Well, it doesn’t fit. It couldn’t be hung up there (in the bike cubby).

By the way, even if I COULD hang my bike in that cubby, (which I have tested, and I can) I don’t want to.

The problem is that it is free hanging nub of a hanger that you hook only one wheel over and with every bump, stop, start, and course correction of the irregular track and driver the bike rattles and bangs all over the place. Really lame solution if you ask me.
It is also a real trick to balance yourself, in cleats, while en/disengaging your bike, holding it in mid air as the train is lumbering to a start/stop. Much, much easier to just keep the rubber side down.

I replied, with conviction

I could hang it there, absolutely.

Then TDum made a measurable statement.

Well, your bike is just longer than those.

At this point I unfolded my drive-train from it’s “tucked” position and said

It is not?! If you put his bike right down next to mine you will see that the wheelbase is the same.

…and just in case “wheelbase” was too much jargon for them I added, pointing with both hands at the same time along the vertical line of each axle,

Where each wheel hits the ground is identical.

I was taking a wee chance on that one but I knew the difference was negligible and I considered that point settled because they had just given a brief, eyebrow-raising, stand-up-straight, moment of recognition. Okay, ready for the next one.

You see, I have read about these altercations, and heard all the arguments before – I had that clear thinking-ness rolling and was ultra-confident they couldn’t convince me anything was wrong.

I was also confident that they would STILL kick me off of the now stopped train, out of pride or authority or spite…or all three.

Their next action was the most surprising of all (and probably a really good reason not to call them TDum and TDee, at least not TDum anyway).
TDum turned to TDee and muttered something low and in passing and without another word or even a glance at me; as if it had never happened, they just…got off the train.

I was still bristling (inwardly, and perhaps outwardly as well) but basically kept a cool (to me) visage and “talked ’em down”.

The other cyclist, as he was getting out, shot me a questioning glance that said “what the heck just happened?”, shook his head in confusion, and got off behind them.

It took me about four miles, three mock-continued arguments (wherein I always won – again), multiple retellings, and one blog post to put it behind me.