On Transport and Transportation

Another day - another bike trek to Monaco. Piece of cake. Though I started getting a bit dizzy from all this little stupid cryptic road signs. Blue signs, green signs, white signs, yellow signs. Little car. Little truck. Black bicycle. Blue bicycle. Little person. Red person. Big little person and small little person. Big little person and small little person crossed. White circle double-crossed. Arrows pointing to the skyward. Arrows pointing downward. This fucking charade almost got us killed when thoroughly confused and disoriented by this iconography we ended up in a tunnel leading to a highway. After that we gave up the sign language and went by the sun and stars.

For the non-American readers - of all the rich pallet of international road signs, U.S. uses only two (stop and yield). The rest is written in pidgin English and well hidden by local vegetation.

First stage of TDF was the 15.5km time trial loop through hills of Monaco. It was quite packed, especially at the port and by the casino. Following the route, we crossed the entire country in search for the perfect spectator spot, got lost in all this carved into the mountain streets, got stopped and warned for erratic riding by local police, finally settling on a place squeezed between starting and finishing approaches.

Leon got busy running between both lanes, cheering each athlete by name in the athlete's native language ("allez, allez" for French nationals, "go, go" for the English-speaking and "давай-давай" for the Russians). I was stunned by his not only remembering the names of each of 180 riders but also by recognizing their low profile flying by at 45mph. To me, they all looked the same: woosh-helmet-ass-woosh.... I told Leon that I am really impressed by his mental prowess hinting that perhaps he could direct a fraction of this power to the studies. "Duh, Dad", said Leon, "the name is written on the support car following the guy..."

Irene and Max arrived by bus later in the day. We watched the end of the stage together and then had some dinner at the port. On the way home, we split up again - Leon and I rode and Irene and Max supposed to take the bus. Because of the street closures, by the time they got to the bus stop, it was too late and the service stopped. It was late and getting dark. Leon and I were away, happily pedalling home. Some nice lady helped them to find the train station. Irene had a 20E bill and an old-fashioned U.S. credit card (magnetic strip only) which the automatic ticket machines at the station refused to accept. Max had one American dollar. The train announcements were in French. Somehow, they managed to get on the right train, and, unable to buy tickets (the machine did not take the bills), rode it for free. Not to tempt the fate further, they took the cab from the station and the driver happily charged them the remaining 20E, thus restoring the justice and fairness in transportation.