Zoning Out

Los Angeles is not a model of smart, careful urban planning. It grew through sprawl. Over the decades the energy and focus of the city moved outward from the conventional downtown into numerous, often low-rise, neighborhoods. There were a few specifically designed neighborhoods like Lakewood, the post-WW2 suburb targeted to aerospace workers, and Century City, the high-rise district far west of downtown, adjacent to Beverly Hills. But most of the growth was accidental. Zoning has kept light and heavy industry in their own pockets, and high-rises are clumped along particular stretches of a street or in individual pockets. Only in the last 30 years or so has the original downtown been resurrected and become increasingly important.

Houston has some parallels. Los Angeles sprawls, but it is constrained by an ocean on one side and a long mountain range on the other; Houston has even more room for sprawl. In both cases the automobile is dominant and many people live far away from their job. But one thing about Houston that seems quite different from Los Angeles is zoning, or lack thereof. Houston does not have formal zoning regulations, and voters have rejected the notion of separate commercial and residential districts three times over the years.

From the 10th-floor office where I'm working, several miles west of downtown, the effect of this is apparent. Across the street is the Williams Tower, at 64 stories the tallest building in the U.S. that is not located in a traditional downtown. Much of the urban landscape looks like an oak forest with the occasional house or apartment peeking out. But high-rises stick up all over the place in no discernible pattern, often as individual towers in low-rise neighborhoods. A gas station or dry cleaner is plopped down in the middle of a residential block. My hotel is four stories tall. Condos across the street are (guessing) 35 stories tall. All around us are one or two-story residences. Residential, commercial, and industrial properties are intermingled in a pattern that seems totally random.

Houston does have a large, impressive downtown. But the power of the economy is scattered in numerous islands throughout this sprawling, random region. It makes for a pretty jumbled metropolis, but it keeps housing costs relatively low. Houston weathered the 2008 real estate bubble better than any other large metropolitan area.

Wave, Dammit

Motorcyclists have a tradition of waving when they encounter one another. Whether that's just because they're in a good mood because they're riding, or because only another motorcyclist can relate to the hazards and indignities that you suffer in a world full of cars and trucks, I'm not sure. Furthermore, the wave has a specific format: a V peace sign with the left hand, arm extended and held below the level of the handlebar. Other waves are acceptable but they aren't, you know, the wave.

I wave, most of the time, but I find it tiresome sometimes. When I pass a group of 20 or so motorcyclists out on a communal jaunt, do I just keep my hand out there until they all pass? If I pull my hand in after the fifth bike or so, are the others going to think I insulted them? I dunno; it's too complicated. My preference would be to nod at my fellow bikers, and that's sometimes what I do. Or sometimes I just give them the cliche raised left hand above the handlebars. Good enough.

Because motorcyclists are humans, and humans are just monkeys with technology, they have manged to screw up this waving thing just like they do everything else. Your real or simulated outlaw biker on his badass Harley is not going to break character and wave to some guy on a sport bike. He might wave to another outlaw, but I'm guessing he would find some other way of acknowledging their shared outlawness. Your typical sport biker is not going to wave to someone on a scooter because that's not a real motorcycle. Your BMW touring motorcyclist will probably wave to almost everyone, because they feel it's their obligation. I think they are all Canadians.

(Heh, simulated outlaw. There's a specific word in the motorcycling world for that: poser. I guess it's not limited to motorcycling, though.)

Anyway, what these various tribes don't seem to understand is that to the world at large, they are all one big homogenous group: bikers. The tribes can only see the subtle differences in their equipment and lifestyles, and magnify those differences. Human nature, I guess. We are all tribal.

Maybe some of the lifestyle differences aren't that subtle. You find more Harleys parked in front of bars, by a huge margin, than you do sport bikes.

All this leads me to recommend a link about motorcyclists and waving. The more you know about motorcyclists, the funnier this will be. But it's kind of funny even if you don't know anything about motorcyclists. (For those who don't know anything, "Gold Wing" is Honda's largest and heaviest motorcycle by far, meant for effortlessly rolling up the miles on long trips. It has every accessory known to man. It's like the RV of motorcycles. It's so heavy, it has a reverse gear, because there's no way you're going to push it backwards with your feet.)

Motorcyclists, waving, and stereotypes