Pedicab Man

I was talking to a Lance Armstrong, Tour de France wannabe the other day. He mentioned the thrill and rush of riding the 20 mph pace line with his other buddies. I didn't tell him, but I'm a little turned off by all that tight fitting lycra on men--okay, on the ladies it's sexy. Anyway, our conversation got me to thinking that maybe I've become a somewhat the adrenaline junky myself.

Imagine riding your fixed gear bike at 20 mph down Wentworth Street next to a Ford Explorer with a College of Charleston sticker and New Jersey plates. The female driver, who is talking on a cell phone, loses concentration and starts to drift to the right. You frantically tap on her window and utter a silent prayer that she won't run you into the parked cars on the right side of the street. Just when the adrenaline rush doesn't seem like it can get any better, some idiot in a parked VW opens his left side door and you hit the gap with a quarter inch to spare. Damn, that's exciting just to think about. I need to start wearing my helmet. I love bikes.

I'm not getting out of this bed till you turn up the heat. When are we headed to Mexico? Screw the price on natural gas, a few buck ain't worth shivering to death over. Know what I mean?

Pedicab Man in such a good mood these days he only charge these folks for 2 people. Don't say PCM never gives a free ride!

I'm on the pedicab at the corner of John Street and King headed south, about 1/3 mile from Francis Marion Hotel. A big Caddy with New Jersey plates pulls up next to me. I tap on his window, and ask if he wants to race to the next light.

"Yeah, how about for five bucks?"

"You're on," I tell him.

The light changes and we're off towards the finish line--the corner or King and Calhoun Street. There's about 200 yards of open road at the start, and he gets a big lead, but even a new Caddy can't make good time stopped in traffic. Pedicabs NEVER stop moving. We knock on people's windows to get them to move over. We have the right side of the road between traffic and parked cars. We have the double yellow line on the left of traffic to straddle, and in an emergency situation, there is always the sidewalk. I use all pedicab options even the regular traffic lane. Standing on the corner of King and Calhoun, I could puff down a whole cigarette (if I still smoked) before that Caddy arrives. When he finally gets there, the window of that Caddy zips down and five bucks appears.

Pedicab 5, Caddy 0.

When I drop tourists off the pedicab--hopefully after I stop--I say, "Welcome to Charleston. We love having you here. Come back anytime, and bring plenty of that green stuff. We poor people, and we need the money."

They almost always smile, which is good, cause the ride is free if you're not smiling. If people don't smile, I'm forced to tell a stupid joke and threaten to tell another if they don't smile. Even people from New England smile when threatened with the second stupid joke. Then they walk quickly away. I figure what-the-hell, I wasn't going to get a tip from a Northeaster anyway.

Lulu is a lazy girl who thinks she is a queen. My job is to take this queen for a walk. Getting her out of bed this morning was a particularly laborsome task. After she finally got up, I hurried to the back door to leash up Taz and Scooter. So there we all were waiting for her majesty to no avail. Finally, I headed back through the house, and there she was in the living room, taking a nap. Lulu's life: you can't walk the length of the house without taking a break to take a nap.

We signed release forms at the annual pedicab riders meeting last week. These forms point out the rules and regulations that we're expected to obey. As a matter of interest, I kept up with the rules I broke the first 24 hours after the meeting:
Ran a red light.
Drove the wrong way on one way street. (Who designed these streets anyway?)
Ran a stop sign.
Passed on a yellow line.
Rode on the side walk.
Had a beer at lunch. (Well, it was St. Patrick's Day.)
Was out of uniform (not wearing the tacky pedicab t-shirt).
Transported four passengers. (The maxium is suspose to be three.)
Overcharged a local. (He was a jerk.)
Failed to make a pick-up. (It was St. Patrick's Day.)
Made fun of a bridegroom. (His friends loved it.)
Made fun of Ben (one of the slower carriage horses).
Gave a tour. (They had a New Jersey accent. Definately not under cover cops. Who could resist?)

A picture of Music Man playing on Meeting Street across from the Market about mid-day. You can see the reflection of Planters Inn in the window of Charleston Place.

Later, Meeting Street was closed for VP Cheney's motorcade. If he ever got there, he made a toast at the Hibernia Society. Total lock down of traffic for miles.

A drunk walked up to me a 10:30 as I was coming out of Wachovia and asked, "Could 70 million Irishmen all be wrong?"

My answer, "Only if it's Saturday Night!"

My friend, the Basket Lady, says she hates it when bus loads of high school kids come to the market.

"They put their nasty little hands all over my baskets and ain't got no money. How am I supposed to to sell a greasy basket?"

Maybe she should borrow Hot Dog Man's cart and sell a few hundred Dollar Dogs on field trip days?

Know how a constant blowing of a car horn makes you want to scratch out someone's eyes? This car's horn blew and blew while the idiot calmly put money in the parking meter! We love our tourists but this guy needs a police escort to the edge of town for his own protection.

"Sir," I hollered, "Can you count?"

"I can count."

"Good, my middle finger means you're number one."

My friend, the Raccoon Lady, sent me this picture of raccoons rescued by Keepers of the Wild during last year's baby season. They have a much bigger cage to play in at the Wildlife Center, but they gather in this big carrying case for a nap.

Want to help these little guys? Go to their web site and make a donation.

http://keeperofthewild.org/

Moe and his mom rode in the pedicab today. We took a swing around town and ended up at Water Front Park. I asked Moe how he liked the ride and he licked my hand----a good sign. Moe has never had a bad ride, he one with riding.

Before and after shot of The SCRUFF..........
He was a 10 on the nasty scale but a five hour work over the Boy be clean. His breath is still lethal.

Picture on right shows the odometer on my fixed gear bicycle. It turned 2,000 miles early in the week when I was riding out on Folly Beach. Not bad for 4 months and doesn't include mileage on my recumbent or the pedicab. I love bikes.

Jennifer gives Pedicab Man hell. Jennifer shouldn't f--k with the PCM, he put her pic on web. PCM leaving town tonight but will sell sign-in-name and pass-word for blog to Jennifer for $1,000.00 cash, no credit. Anyone see this women DO NOT give her a gun. All this cause PCM can't keep a secret. Never tell PCM a secret unless it's really not a secret.

Why is the PCM so serious? It's cause he has to keep a secret. The Pedcab Man is bad at keeping a secret. It makes him nervous and jerky. Are you reading this John McGowan?

Made a stop for a light at the corner of King and George on my way back to the Market after dropping off customers at the Francis Marion Hotel. Looking to my right down George I see Barney the campus cop on his mountain bike with black belts, gun, badge, radio, black sunglasses, water bottle, handcuffs, ammuntion holder, bike helmet, ditty bag and mammoth gut. I'm thinking, even with a 400 pound pedicab I could out run this guy.

He pulls up to the corner and I holler over, "Want to race that thing?"

He shouts back, "Yea it's a nice day."

"I said DO YOU WANT TO RACE?"

"You want to go to what place?"

I give up, pull over so we're about 2 feet apart and say "us old people are hard of hearing. I asked if you wanted to race?"

He said, "Bet I'm older than you are."

That's a bet he lost.

IBM George has a cute BMW with a letter in the model number. I think that letter means that it's hot. I asked George if that dog would hunt? He assured me that it was one of the best hunters on the road. I wanted to know, other than some salesman telling him, how he knew it would really hunt.

He winked and said, "Trust me this sucker will hunt with anything."

I had some questions, "Yeah, but how do you know when you live in a downtown dog pen that your dog will hunt? Where can you run that dog around here to be sure? Don't you have to go out west, to the great plains with them wide open roads, to let it really hunt?"

George said, "Are you some kind of smart ass? Anyway, what does someone who rides around on a bicycle all day know about cars?"

I started to say that I read a lot but that sounded kind of weak. So I conceded that he had a point.

City Paper announced the Best Hot Dog Deal today and the winner is my friend The Hot Dog Man owner of Terry's Dollar Dog on the corner of King and George. Terry is shown here wearing the grand prize pants he won. He gave me a free dog for 7,890 times I voted for him in the paper's pole. I got the Big Street Veggie Dog, 800 glorious calories.

















Note: Terry said he purchased these pants himself. I said Dude, YOU WON THE PANTS!!! Trust me my way is best.