Bicycle operation cost versus car operation cost: fuel costs

It's said that bicycling is the new golf. I'm unsure whether this means that it's the new Saturday morning bonding thing-to-do or rather that it's expensive and the people who do it wear flamboyant clothes and cleated shoes. Both are applicable.

The cost of bicycling can be surprising. Of course the Saturday morning enthusiasts who listen to the salesmen in the bike shops and buy those soulless carbon-fiber-everything bikes are laying out a fat wad, but what about the commuter who wants only a good, dependable ride? The cost of operating a bicycle is an interesting topic to me for obvious reasons, and I will occasionally examine some of its many facets in future posts.

It's regularly assumed that a bicycle is cheaper to operate than a car, but is this true? and if so by how much? In this post I will explore one specific part: fuel costs. Fuel prices have increased in recent years both for cars and bicycles. We notice these increases whenever we pass those bright gas station signs boldly proclaiming their incessant faith in the one-tenth penny, and we notice these increases in the grocery store when that one pound brick of cheap cheddar costs more than five dollars.

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Case study

Subject: Craig
Description: Doesn't own car, wears a lot of Lycra, bikes everywhere around Phoenix.
Guess: Must be saving enough money not buying gas to buy an Italian racer.

I average about 126 miles of utilitarian bicycling each week. The amount sounds very specific, but it's a guess; I'm confident it's close to the actual amount, and I'm using it to simply calculations later. Most of the miles -- about 85 -- are for commuting to and from work. The remainder are for errands, social things, sports leagues, etc.

The first step is to calculate my fuel costs if I drove these miles rather than biked them.

My Mazda averaged a fuel efficiency of about 35 miles per gallon, so:

126 miles / 35 miles per gallon = 3.6 gallons
3.6 gallons * $3.50 per gallon = $12.60

Thus, my average fuel costs in a car would be about $12.60 per week.

Step two is to calculate bicycle fuel cost. How exactly does one go about calculating bicycle fuel cost? The key is determining one's energy expenditure when bicycling. This website provides a simple way of estimating one's power output to the bicycle. Only a subset of the input fields matter for calculating the power output field. These input fields are: speed, mechanical loss, air resistance coefficient, and rolling resistance. If one calculates for gradients, then the weight (both of the rider and of the bicycle) and grade fields are important, too. Gradient percentages can be tricky to calculate, and my utility bicycling is mostly flattish with the uphill generally canceling out the downhill, so in this exercise I ignore gradients. These are my inputs, as recommended by the website:

Speed: 18 mph
Mechanical loss: 3%
Air resistance coefficient: 0.0036
Rolling resistance coefficient: 0.004

These are conservative estimates. 18 Mph is a casual pace for me on the flats, and the three friction fields are on the low end according to the website.

The calculated power output with these inputs is 120W (watts), or one-sixth of a horsepower^[1]. This 120W figure is my power output to the bike. Of course, some of my effort is lost as waste, just as some energy in a tank of gasoline is wasted as heat when powering a car. I estimate my efficiency rating at 20%, meaning that for every one unit of energy I output to my bicycle, I must consume an additional five units of energy. This 20% figure is a guess; the experts say that riders' efficiency rates range from the high teens to the mid-twenties, and I'm pegging myself in the middle of that range.

So how much total energy do I use for utility bicycling?

126 miles / 18 mph = 7.0 hours

(Here is the reason for the 126 miles guess: it assumes that at my average speed of 18 mph I spend a simple, round 7 hours on the bike.)

To continue:

120W output / 0.20 efficiency = 600W input
600W input * 60 seconds * 60 minutes * 7.0 hours = 15,120,000Ws (watt-seconds)
15,120,000Ws = 15,120,000J (joules)
15,120,000J * 0.0002390kcal (kilocalories) per J = 3614kcal

Thus, I must consume about an extra 3600 kilocalories each week to meet the demand of utilitarian bicycling. For simplicity I will assume that I obtain all of these extra kcal by eating quinoa, which is a cheap, complete-protein grain. One ounce of quinoa contains about 105kcal, so:

3600kcal / 105kcal per ounce of quinoa = 34 ounces of quinoa
34 ounces of quinoa / 16 ounces per pound = 2.1 pounds of quinoa

One pound of quinoa goes for about $2.50 these days, so:

2.1 pounds of quinoa * $2.50 per pound of quinoa = $5.25

Thus, my average utilitarian bicycling fuel cost is about $5.25 per week. Remember that this figure is low due to conservative estimates. Even so, my total savings on the bike are:

$12.60 car fuel cost per week - $5.25 bicycle fuel cost per week = $7.35 savings per week.

So I save about one dollar per day on fuel costs. This is if I ride at a moderate pace. And if I get my extra calories by eating only quinoa as opposed to eating something pricier, and at about 675kcal (1 meal) per dollar, quinoa is a far from average cost.

Conclusion: I'll have saved enough for that Italian racer at about the same time I'll need it just to keep up my pace.

Questions? Comments?

¹ The most powerful cyclists in the world are track sprinters, some of whom can reach peak output levels of more than three horsepower!

Seventy-three days and not counting

Coworker Steve somehow ended up with two cars at work this Friday, so I helped him by putting my bicycle in the back of his 4 Runner and driving it to his house before bicycling home. This broke my no-driving streak of seventy-three days.

I can't be sure when the last time I went as long without driving. I know my longest streak while owning a functioning car is thirty days, which happened mostly during October of last year. I may have gone seventy-four days or more without driving sometime during my first two years in college. I didn't own a car then, but my sister did and I sometimes borrowed hers^[*], so I can't be sure of any streak. And if I didn't have a longer streak during those two years then the only other streak longer than seventy-three days is my 5,479-day streak ending with me turning fifteen and obtaining a learner's permit. Or did I get my permit after my birthday? I can't remember. I do remember Mom driving me home from the DMV after I got my permit: she pulled to the curb and stopped the car upon getting to the safe streets of our subdivision, and she had me drive the remaining way home. It was the first time I drove an automobile -- a 1986 Oldsmobile. I wore an ear-to-ear grin those five minutes as I hugged the curb and maintained erratic Grandma-speeds the entire way. If I had taken my eyes off the road for one second, I could have seen Mom's white-knuckle grip on the door, dash, or anything she could put her hands on. I don't think I've ever driven her once without that reflexive grip of hers showing at least once.

Cars were and continue to be a way of life in the Houston suburbs, and driving was the biggest of the coming-of-age rites for a teenage boy. The idea of an adult not regularly driving a car was a fiction to me then. I don't recommend carlessness to normal people, but I do recommend the car-lite lifestyle. A major benefit to driving less is that driving becomes enjoyable, like how it was when a teenager. There's no daily routine of seconds-saving stresses and worries, red lights are not the Big Evil when you don't deal with them everyday, and being cut-off and honked at somehow doesn't matter.

^[*] My sister drove a Ford Taurus during college, which is funny to think about if you know my sister's taste in cars.

Goodbye, summer

Goodbye, summer. Much of the rest of the country mourns your departure, but we in the Valley have been eagerly awaiting our promised release from you. And like clockwork, the monsoon clouds are drifting away and you're returning to your predictable, mild temperament. Windows will soon be opened to welcome the pleasant air. We'll comfortably walk about in sandals and T-shirts all the while forgetting to appreciate each windless, blue sky day. I am reminded why I first fell in love with the Valley two years ago.

A post about Ike that ignores the plights of everyone who suffered it

Many people I know live in the Houston area in the Gulf Coast, so I have followed the news concerning Hurricane Ike with more interest than befits the typical Phoenix resident. Among the pre-landfall news I found an article on the Fox News website about the hurricane that leveled Galveston in September of 1900. The article contained a delightful little gem: a personal account of the storm by Isaac M. Cline, who was the senior Weather Bureau employee in Galveston at the time the storm.

By 8 p.m. a number of houses had drifted up and lodged to the east and southeast of my residence, and these with the force of the waves acted as a battering ram against which it was impossible for any building to stand for any length of time, and at 8:30 p.m. my residence went down with about fifty persons who had sought it for safety, and all but eighteen were hurled into eternity.

Among the lost was my wife, who never rose above the water after the wreck of the building. I was nearly drowned and became unconscious, but recovered though being crushed by timbers and found myself clinging to my youngest child, who had gone down with myself and wife.

This is a factual description of a newsworthy event; it also happens to be a well constructed and beautiful bit of prose. Each word moves the reader forward; the sentences are direct. The topic is sensational without adding verbal complexity, and the writing style delivers that exceptionalness with a simple structure and an elegant touch of poetic imagery. And I like the phrase hurled into eternity.

This writing style has largely been lost in the modern delivery of news. During my lifetime both news reporters and the sources they quote muddy their message with a slew of passive phrases, inverted sentences, and clumsy prepositional phrases preceding both subject and verb. If I were reckless with my speculation then I'd guess that spending years as students writing about boring topics has conditioned most of us to write automatically with a style that belies the emptiness of our content.

Here's my translation of Cline's account to the modern style, exaggerated.

By 8 p.m., to the east/southeast of my residence, a number of houses had drifted up and gotten lodged. With the force of the waves they battered buildings, and standing for any length of time became an impossibility. By 8:30 p.m., my residence went down. Of the fifty safety-seekers inside, only eighteen survived.

Among the dead was my wife. Losing consciousness and nearly drowning, I recovered despite by crushed by fallen trees, and I clung to my youngest child.

That's my best effort, anyway. This inverted, unpoetic style is especially prolific on the Internet amongst us amateurs. There exists a popular, comforting delusion that chopping up a sentence into pieces and rearranging the order of those pieces makes a passage more interesting, but in actuality it lessens the gravity of the content.

Craig, like the List

I frequently fail to enunciate my consonants clearly. The names Craig and Greg too often rhyme in American pronunciation even though phonetically they shouldn't. These two facts have led to my being asked too often whether my name is Craig or Greg after introducing myself. I innovated a simple solution for this problem about a half-year ago by introducing myself as "Craig, like the List." As far as I know, there's still no Greg's List.

Overall this tactic works well. People usually laugh, and never do they need to ask for clarification. Sometimes I get asked whether I'm The Craig. I wish I were, or at least I wish I had his beautifully no-frills, profitable site. It's clear from responses to introducing myself that Craig's List is a well known and nearly unanimously appreciated site.

The funniest response I've received thus far to my introduction was when playing ultimate Frisbee. I used my then-new "Craig, like the List" introduction, and the other guy, whose actual name I don't think I ever learned, responded by calling himself Ebay. What made this funny is that that the Ebay name stuck. I showed up a month later to play with the same group and all the players were still calling him Ebay.

So far I haven't met any Googles or Amazons, but I have met a few Yahoos.

Hour of Power

Each Tuesday and Thursday morning a bicycling group called Hour of Power assembles in east Phoenix about a twenty minute ride from where I live. The group departs at 5:30 year-round, and the route winds around the Camelback and Mummy Mountain areas for a brief, high-intensity workout.

I found about Hour of Power a while ago, but the early start time managed to nix any would-be plans of mine to try it out. Waking up early on a weekend morning may not be too bad because the busyness of the night ere can be controlled and a nap is an option after the ride, but waking up early on a weekday is more intrusive: the workweek abounds with nocturnal-leaning social influences, and naps at work are generally frowned upon by management. Besides, I already ride to work every morning. Is a group ride before my commute such a good idea?

With the days becoming noticeably shorter as we near the end of summer, I decided that there was little time to lose if I was to try Hour of Power in daylight. Monday night I committed and set my alarm for a 4:30 wakeup. Getting out of bed was the predictably terrible experience I expected, but I managed, and I was soon out the door. Along the way I met up with another rider, Dan, who often rides with Weezers and Geezers on Saturday mornings. Dan told me that last week's Geezers ride was just him and one other and that I was missed. That may me feel good; I had worried that my trouble-making antics with the Geezers on the last few rides had earned me an unfavorable reputation.

We arrived just before the Hour of Power group set out, which it did at a casual warm-up pace for a few km before picking it up around Mummy Mountain. There the route traverses the same rolling hills and zigzags through residential areas that are crowded with cyclists every Saturday morning. And there the pace became quite fast -- my speedometer showed us doing more than 50kph a few times on flattish parts -- and some of those sharp turns are nerve-wracking at those speeds when sandwiched between other cyclists. The group broke apart and regrouped twice after the more intensive climbs. And then it was over. The group turned around and headed back to the starting point, winding slowly and happily through the maze of streets and boulevards, and riders peeled off one by one to go home and start their day. I surmise that Hour of Power would be more aptly named Thirty Minutes Or So of Power With an Hour Or So of Casual Pedaling.

It's a great ride. I rode it with the unique delirium of a guy who woke up hours too early and was riding with an unfamiliar group along a maze of winding back roads. I had bicycled every part of the route at some point in the previous two years, so I knew the terrain in general, but I had no idea which turns the group would make and thus when it would climb and when it would descend or where the group would sprint and where it would regroup, and I rode with a berserk frenzy befitting a panicked rider who refused to drop. And for the most part I didn't.

It was great fun, and the remainder of my day was much better because of it. I don't foresee the 5:30 start time ever becoming easy, but Hour of Power should make it worthwhile. Sometimes.

Uncool thoughts

Sometime during last year's monsoon season my apartment's air conditioning failed. The building in which I lived is old by Phoenix standards and appears to have been built on the cheap. Perhaps that is why rather than each unit having its own central air all units are cooled by a single enormous chiller.

Some part in the chiller broke, and maintenance had to order its replacement, which took a few days to arrive. In the meantime we tenants had no air conditioning. Those few days were especially humid, and the tenants were a bit hot about the situation. They were complaining to each other about how terrible the heat was and how unfair it was that management wasn't going to refund any of that month's rent. Saying such things was highly abnormal, for tenants don't usually talk to each other. We make beelines between our front door and our car and otherwise spend our time in our comforting isolation of closed windows, closed doors, and enclosed air. But for those few days people were up and about during evenings because it was cooler outside the walls than inside. And I could almost pretend I was living in a community, one pulled together by shared suffering. They were the most remarkable and the most uncomfortable days of that summer. And like with the flip of a switch the chiller was repaired and those days were over; we closed our windows, closed our doors, and returned to our isolation.

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I am fascinated by the differences between people's genotypes and phenotypes. The genotype is an organism's blueprint, its overarching design, or pattern. The phenotype is the actual pattern realized by that organism. A person's genotype may dictate that she has crooked teeth, bad eyesight, and brown hair. Braces, surgery, and hair dye may cause her phenotype to have straight teeth, perfect vision, and blond hair.

The human genotype hasn't changed much in the last few hundred years, yet our phenotypes have changed radically. Our teeth are straighter. Our eyes are better. More of our women are blond.

We're not well adapted to hot temperatures.

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Somehow I never made the transition to air conditioning this summer. I figured I'd go without for as long as it made sense to do so, which so happened to be indefinitely. The effects of doing so have been numerous and positive.

Firstly, I never became saddled with the distinction between indoors and outdoors because I had no cold air to preserve. My windows remained open, through which passing sounds kept me connected with the outside. And it didn't matter whether I went outside or stayed inside because either way I would be a sweaty mess, so I went wherever I wished without consequences.

People in Phoenix say that the summer lasts for about four months; for me it lasted only two. This was a totally unexpected result. During all my summers in Texas and during my first summer in Phoenix, my definition of a hot day was one in which I would be uncomfortable without air conditioning. Without air conditioning as that anchor my definition changed to a day that was hotter than the previous one. I was totally acclimated to the heat once the days stopped getting hotter sometime in July, and that's when summer ended for me.

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Another fascination of mine is discovering the unnecessity of things previously thought necessary. I consider this to be a condition of both having a wonderfully provided-for childhood and adolescence as well as being somewhat weird by nature.

The default for me is to look around at others and mimic them rather than figure out when and how people are, in fact, doing things that I have no interest in doing. Discovering unnecessities requires effort, and each such discovery gives me a heightened sense of empowerment. I lose one dependency and its associated upkeep, and the number of prerequisites for my happiness decreases by one. I step closer to the illusion of invulnerability.

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I slept on the floor this summer because my memory foam mattress was too insulating. I unrolled each night my bed, which consisted of a comforter and a single sheet together acting as padding, and slept under my apartment's one ceiling fan. The strange thing is that I discovered that sleeping on a floor is quite pleasant when one chooses to -- cognitive dissonance at work? My bedroom became abandoned and I learned the unnecessity of it and my bed.

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This week I continued the westward push, this time by a distance spanning no more than a par three. I moved into another unit within the same complex. My new unit is a studio and is much smaller, which offers me the twin advantages of having less carpet to vacuum and less rent to pay. It also happens to be a better layout and more effective use of space, and I'm very happy about the move.

And so goes the cascade of effects started by my curiosity of living without air conditioning.

***

About a week before I moved, my previous building's air conditioning went out for a few days. Or so I heard.

Weekly recap (new post copout)

Here are some facts that I learned this week:

• The Phoenix Public Library System has a zero-tolerance policy for water damage to books. If they detect that a book has gotten wet then they consider the book ruined.
• Phoenix libraries charge a five dollar service fee on top of the price of the book to have it replaced. You're free to bring in a replacement book, even a used one, to avoid the charge, but you won't be able to check out anything until you do so.
  
• Being the goalie in soccer is a high-stress position. I played goalie for about thirty minutes in this week's game because our starting goalie was carded and the backup goalie didn't make the game. I was so on-edge the entire time that my gut began to hurt. I think I was having a fight or flight response.
  
• The nuclear fusion of two hydrogen atoms into a single helium atom releases energy both because it unlocks potential energy in the system and because the resulting mass of the helium is less than the combined mass of the two hydrogen atoms.
• Lightening can be all different kinds of color: white, blue, green, orange, red. The colors are caused by air pollutants.
• Skeletal muscle cells can have multiple nuclei and can be really long, like the length of your upper arm. Neurons can be really long, too.
• My homemade oatmeal bars are more textually cohesive if I use less water.
• It's wise to be careful when cutting a damaged toenail because it's possible to pull it out accidentally. It doesn't necessarily hurt, but it's really gross.
• Rolf Vector wheels, the kind on one of my bicycles, were discontinued.
• Whole barley may be purchased online but not sold in many, if any, local grocery stores. Barley has a moderate glycemic index value, about the same as whole wheat's, but regulates blood sugar for up to ten hours (according to Wikipedia), which is a really long time. All I've found in local stores is pearl barley, which is barley that has had the bran removed.

And the quote of the week, courtesy of Lucian.

The life of the ordinary man is the best and most prudent choice. Cease from the folly of metaphysical speculation and inquiry into origins and ends; count all this clever logic as idle talk, and pursue one end alone--how you may do what your hand finds to do, and go your way with never a passion and always a smile.