After I posted my bike commuting tips, several people have confessed that they'd love to ride but they can't; they're terrified. "Is it safe?" they ask. I remember telling the friend who finally convinced me to ride, "I just don't want to die." Being scared is good! It means you'll be cautious and aware (see tips # 2 and # 5 from the earlier post). As for safety, it's only as safe as you ride.
So how to make the maiden voyage? I suggest riding with a buddy: someone who knows the route and how to ride it. That way you focus entirely on following that friend and tune everything else out. A bonus in following is that you'll naturally pick up tricks of the trade, like never snuggling up to parked cars and maintaining utmost respect for rail tracks and expecting drivers to lose their minds in the rain.
I chose to go solo on my first ride to work - an army of one! I ended up on a four lane road headed toward a freeway on-ramp and was rather traumatized. I consulted the San Francisco bike map - Google biking directions are quite good - more closely before riding home and it was smoother sailing from there. But an escort would have been nice.
Bikers tend to be so stoked to see other bikers, so you should have no problem finding a buddy. Many cities have pro-cycling organizations - San Francisco Bicycle Coalition, New York Bicycling Coalition - that provide education and training on how to ride your city. And car-free events in neighborhoods and parks an a great opportunity to get comfortable on a bike.
In this case, the first time really is the hardest. But if you can get over the hump, you'll be liberated from parking tolls, gridlock and road rage. And according to our word cloud, freedom, exercise and health will pop to the top of your list.
To help you get comfortable with the idea of riding to work, I filmed my ride yesterday. Warning: I filmed it with a GoPro cam on my helmet so it's a little shaky. Enjoy the view!
Lizzy Bennett is online marketing manager for Timbuk2 Design in San Francisco.
James Fallows is a national correspondent for The Atlantic and has written for the magazine since the late 1970s. He has reported extensively from outside the United States and once worked as President Carter's chief speechwriter. His latest book is China Airborne.
Russia's strongman president has many Americans convinced of his manipulative genius. He's really just a gambler who won big.
I. The Hack
The large, sunny room at Volgograd State University smelled like its contents: 45 college students, all but one of them male, hunched over keyboards, whispering and quietly clacking away among empty cans of Juicy energy drink. “It looks like they’re just picking at their screens, but the battle is intense,” Victor Minin said as we sat watching them.
Clustered in seven teams from universities across Russia, they were almost halfway into an eight-hour hacking competition, trying to solve forensic problems that ranged from identifying a computer virus’s origins to finding secret messages embedded in images. Minin was there to oversee the competition, called Capture the Flag, which had been put on by his organization, the Association of Chief Information Security Officers, or ARSIB in Russian. ARSIB runs Capture the Flag competitions at schools all over Russia, as well as massive, multiday hackathons in which one team defends its server as another team attacks it. In April, hundreds of young hackers participated in one of them.
Russian billionaire Yuri Milner says if the space rock 'Oumuamua is giving off radio signals, his team will be able to detect them—and they may get the results within days.
The email about “a most peculiar object” in the solar system arrived in Yuri Milner’s inbox last week.
Milner, the Russian billionaire behind Breakthrough Listen, a $100 million search for intelligent extraterrestrial life, had already heard about the peculiar object. ‘Oumuamua barreled into view in October, the first interstellar object seen in our solar system.
Astronomers around the world chased after the mysterious space rock with their telescopes, collecting as much data as they could as it sped away. Their observations revealed a truly unusual object with puzzling properties. Scientists have long predicted an interstellar visitor would someday coast into our corner of the universe, but not something like this.
Students don't seem to be getting much out of higher education.
I have been in school for more than 40 years. First preschool, kindergarten, elementary school, junior high, and high school. Then a bachelor’s degree at UC Berkeley, followed by a doctoral program at Princeton. The next step was what you could call my first “real” job—as an economics professor at George Mason University.
Thanks to tenure, I have a dream job for life. Personally, I have no reason to lash out at our system of higher education. Yet a lifetime of experience, plus a quarter century of reading and reflection, has convinced me that it is a big waste of time and money. When politicians vow to send more Americans to college, I can’t help gasping, “Why? You want us to waste even more?”
The depiction of uncomfortable romance in "Cat Person" seems to resonate with countless women.
Recent months make it seem like humanity has lost the instruction manual for its “procreate” function and has had to relearn it all from scratch. After scores of prominent men have been fired on sexual-assault allegations, confusion reigns about signals, how to read them, and how not to read into them. Some men are wondering if hugging women is still okay. Some male managers are inviting third parties into performance reviews in order to avoid being alone with women. One San Francisco design-firm director recently said holiday parties should be canceled, as The New York Times reported, “until it has been figured out how men and women should interact.”
Into this steps “Cat Person,” a New Yorker fiction story by Kristen Roupenian that explores how badly people can misread each other, but also how frightening and difficult sexual encounters can be for women, in particular. “It isn’t a story about rape or sexual harassment, but about the fine lines that get drawn in human interaction,” Deborah Treisman, The New Yorker’s fiction editor, told me.
David Bentley Hart’s text recaptures the awkward, multivoiced power of the original.
In the beginning was … well, what? A clap of the divine hands and a poetic shock wave? Or an itchy node of nothingness inconceivably scratching itself into somethingness? In the beginning was the Word, says the Gospel according to John—a lovely statement of the case, as it’s always seemed to me. A pre-temporal syllable swelling to utterance in the mouth of the universe, spoken once and heard forever: God’s power chord, if you like. For David Bentley Hart, however, whose mind-bending translation of the New Testament was published in October, the Word—as a word—does not suffice: He finds it to be “a curiously bland and impenetrable designation” for the heady concept expressed in the original Greek of the Gospels as Logos. The Chinese word Tao might get at it, Hart tells us, but English has nothing with quite the metaphysical flavor of Logos, the particular sense of a formative moral energy diffusing itself, without diminution, through space and time. So he throws up his hands and leaves it where it is: “In the origin there was the Logos …”
The authors of a new book argue that government regulations have been giving an unfair advantage to those already on top.
Why has inequality increased so much over the past 40 years? Common answers to that question cite changes in trade, technology, globalization, and education. Cheap imports from low-wage countries, in particular China, sapped domestic manufacturing. Companies offshored jobs, fired people, and hired robots. Demand for skilled workers far outstripped the demand for unskilled workers, depressing earnings for those without an advanced degree.
In their excellent, slim new book, Brink Lindsey and Steven Teles—the former the director of the Open Society Project at the libertarian think tank the Niskanen Center, the latter a political scientist at Johns Hopkins—point to an important and overlooked additional cause. InThe Captured Economy: How the Powerful Become Richer, Slow Down Growth, and Increase Inequality, they argue that it is not just that technology and offshoring have wiped away middle-income jobs, but that high-income individuals and big-profit businesses have rewritten the rules of the economy, “capturing” the regulatory system and using it to squeeze out their competition. The result is both greater inequality, and a more sclerotic economy.
As the Alabama Senate race enters its final days, Doug Jones is making an all out push—while his rival is nowhere to be seen.
MONTGOMERY, Ala.—The dramatic contrast between the two Senate campaigns in Alabama grew even more stark during the final weekend before Election Day.
Doug Jones, the Democratic candidate, is holding multiple events every day, taking questions from the press, and campaigning with other Democratic politicians. His opponent Roy Moore has all but disappeared. Dogged by controversy following allegations by nine women of sexual misconduct or abuse when they were teenagers, Moore has not appeared in public since last Tuesday, and isn’t scheduled to do so again before Monday. Reports suggest that he was in Philadelphia on Saturday watching the Army-Navy football game, and a Moore spokesperson told me that he attended a Christmas gathering with supporters and friends on Sunday evening—closed to the press.
“The U.S. is now the most unpredictable actor in the world today.”
As conflicts ignite and burn and flicker out around the world, U.S. officials assess the dangers they represent back home. Not all of these conflicts directly threaten American interests, which is why the Council on Foreign Relations conducts an annual survey to help U.S. leaders prioritize threats in the year ahead. For the past decade, this survey has focused on the risks posed to America by foreign actors. Now it’s reckoning with the risks America poses to the world—and to itself.
“The U.S. is now the most unpredictable actor in the world today, and that has caused profound unease,” said Paul Stares, the director of CFR’s Center for Preventive Action, which produces the annual survey. “You used to be able to pretty much put the U.S. to one side and hold it constant, and look at the world and consider where the biggest sources of unpredictability, insecurity are. Now you have to include the U.S. in that. … No one has high confidence how we [Americans] would react in any given situation, given how people assess this president.” This president might welcome the development. “I don’t want people to know exactly what I’m doing—or thinking,” Donald Trump wrote in 2015. “It keeps them off balance.”
A conversation about inheritance, philanthropy, and aging with the philosopher Martha Nussbaum and the law professor Saul Levmore
What is the right way to age? It’s a question that isn’t explored enough in American society, where, seemingly, people are expected to be forever young, until, suddenly, they are not. Reflecting this binary, any writing about a long life’s final decades tends toward extremes. On one hand, there are the accounts of heroic men and women who still put in more than 40 hours a week on the job in their late 60s and early 70s (a genre I like to call “retirement porn”). On the other, there are the articles warning about the dangers of not adapting a home for aging bodies, or the plague of financial scammers targeting lonely or cognitively challenged seniors.
That leaves out a vast middle, the space where many older people actually, you know, live their lives. Luckily, Martha Nussbaum, the renowned philosopher and ethicist at the University of Chicago, and Saul Levmore, the former dean of and a current professor at the university’s law school, decided to explore that middle. The result? The recently published Aging Thoughtfully: Conversations About Retirement, Romance, Wrinkles, & Regret.
Five times a day for the past three months, an app called WeCroak has been telling me I’m going to die. It does not mince words. It surprises me at unpredictable intervals, always with the same blunt message: “Don’t forget, you’re going to die.”
Sending these notices is WeCroak’s sole function. They arrive “at random times and at any moment just like death,” according to the app’s website, and are accompanied by a quote meant to encourage “contemplation, conscious breathing or meditation.” Though the quotes are not intended to induce nausea and despair, this is sometimes their effect. I’m eating lunch with my husband one afternoon when WeCroak presents a line from the Zen poet Gary Snyder: “The other side of the ‘sacred’ is the sight of your beloved in the underworld, dripping with maggots.”