A Bicycle Can Get You From Here to There

That’s Good For You, Good For Everyone Else.

Wednesday, May 26, 1999

I’m going to talk about bikes today. So I’m going to speak very slowly, so my colleague Dave, “I’ll get out of my car when they pry my cold dead hands from the steering wheel” Addis, will perhaps understand me.

It’s funny about bicycles. When I suggested a while back accommodating them more on local roads, Addis, who has become the leading supporter of the traffic-jammed, suburban status quo, could only think of Bejing or Bombay. Yellow and brown hordes on rusty bicycles jostling for space on dusty roads with chickens and stray dogs yapping at their heels. Who wants that?

Typing For Non-Conformists

The Dvorak alternative keyboard is a boon for the aching hand.


I’m writing this essay in a different language. It’s called Dvorak.

The words in my mindnd on the screen are coming out the same as always. But my fingers on the keyboard, the tool I use to translate mental words to written ones, are moving differently than they have over the last 20 years. My fingers are speaking Dvorak.

Perhaps it was an impending middle-age crisis, but at age 39, after a decade as a journalist and two decades typing everything from college papers to months-long newspaper projects, I wanted to see if I could do something as fundamental as shift my system of typing.

Guns Don’t Kill People; Cars Do. Or At Least Not As Many

On Foot Or On Wheels, Facing The Threat

Whether you walk, drive or bicycle on your daily rounds, are you more in danger of getting killed from a bumper of a car or a bullet from a gun? It depends on where you live, although the stats suggest that overall, the mean metal of a car is more dangerous than that from a gun, simply because speeding cars are so much more prevalent than speeding bullets.

When the big guns fail, here’s a secret weapon in the battle against warts

Published: Monday, August 9, 1993
Section: DAILY BREAK , page B1
Source: By Alex Marshall, Staff writer

THE STORY OF HOW I conquered and vanquished the strange, alien-like creatures that marched and multiplied across the soles of my feet for a decade may not be nice, it may not be pretty, but it needs telling, for those who face similar struggles need hope, examples that glory and victory comes to those who persist.

They – the warts that is – first appeared in the late 1970s. There were just two at first, right under the ball of each foot, so I felt them when I put my weight down.