Josh Cohen Writes Rotating Header Image

David Foster Wallace on 9/11, Freedom, and Sacrifice

I wrote this a year ago. “Just Asking” is still one of the best essays I’ve read reflecting on Sept. 11 and not a whole lot of the bad things that I mentioned last year have gotten better, frankly. So, I’m reposting it today, touched up to reflect the new date.

With today marking the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks and tomorrow marking the third anniversary of David Foster Wallace’s tragic death, it seems appropriate to share Wallace’s short, 2007 Atlantic essay “Just Asking.” In it, Wallace asks whether the “American idea” (in short, “open society, consent of the governed, enumerated powers, Federalist 10, pluralism, due process, transparency … the whole democratic roil”) is worth dying for or whether the values we hold dear are worth giving up in order to make ourselves safe.

He writes:

Are some things still worth dying for? Is the American idea* one such thing? Are you up for a thought experiment? What if we chose to regard the 2,973 innocents killed in the atrocities of 9/11 not as victims but as democratic martyrs, “sacrifices on the altar of freedom”?* In other words, what if we decided that a certain baseline vulnerability to terrorism is part of the price of the American idea? And, thus, that ours is a generation of Americans called to make great sacrifices in order to preserve our democratic way of life—sacrifices not just of our soldiers and money but of our personal safety and comfort?

In still other words, what if we chose to accept the fact that every few years, despite all reasonable precautions, some hundreds or thousands of us may die in the sort of ghastly terrorist attack that a democratic republic cannot 100-percent protect itself from without subverting the very principles that make it worth protecting?

Since 9/11, our supposed defense of the American idea has led us into two wars and cost many thousands of human lives (not to mention over $1 trillion). It has stripped us of any remote semblance of personal privacy. It has nearly cost us the right to ask questions.  And of course, that ironically perverse defense of the American idea hasn’t done much to stop terrorism, hasn’t made us more prosperous, and has, in fact, gotten in the way of improving our country.

As our national dialogue continues to devolve into polarized shouting matches it is valuable, as Wallace implores us to do, to step back, take stock, and think about the necessary balance of freedom, safety, and sacrifice.

D.I.Y. Cyclocross Derailleur Pulley


This would cost $15 from a bike company.

I love D.I.Y. solutions to cycling problems. Clever work-arounds using parts not manufactured for a particular use, tools made with hardware store bits, etc.

I got the chance to try my hand at a new D.I.Y. solution this weekend while building up Becky’s new cross bike. Long backstory short, Becky is going to try cyclocross this Fall. She bought a Scattante cross frameset from a friend of mine a while back and we’ve slowly been collecting parts for it.

I thought we finally had everything we needed to put it together, but discovered that I was missing one small and crucial part. Her frame has top-routed derailleur cables, but we put a bottom-pull front derailleur on the bike. It’s fairly common for cross bikes to use standard road derailleurs with top-routed cables. They just employ a small pulley on the back of the seat tube that the derailleur cable loops around so that it routes under the derailleur.


This is a stock pulley.

We went hunting for a pulley all over town on Saturday. We went to three different shops to no avail. I thought in a town as cyclocross-crazy as Seattle someone would have one, for sure, but I guess it’s still an obscure part to stock. That left me with the option of ordering one online, or waiting for one of the shops to order one for me. The pulleys–which basically consist of a M5 bolt, a washer, and the plastic pulley itself–run about $15 + shipping online. I decided to head to the hardware store and see if I could find a reasonable solution.

It took a bit of searching, but I eventually found what I needed in a plastic screen door wheel. The wheel, bolt, and washer only cost a few dollars and seem like they’re going to work perfectly.

I assembled it last night and frankly, I think it looks pretty dang solid.

Riding to the Top of the World

The email to Dylan and Erik began “file this under ideas I may regret suggesting.” I was, after all, proposing a 130 mile ride from Port Townsend to the top of Hurricane Ridge and back that would edge frighteningly close to 8,800 feet of climbing. Oh, and there’d be the 17 .5 mile, 5,200 ft climb to the top of Hurricane Ridge smack in the middle of the ride.

As it turned out, none of us had the time to commit to a 12+ hour ride that weekend (and Dylan couldn’t join us at all), so Erik and I settled on the “short” version, a 75 mile ride from Sequim to the top of Hurricane Ridge that still had around 6,500 feet of climbing all in all. That was definitely for the best. Between my crash, a cold, and a bit of lackluster motivation, this has been an embarrassingly low-mileage summer.


The elevation profile from the ride

I met Erik at the Seattle ferry bright and early on Saturday morning. After a quick stop in downtown Bainbridge to pick up sunscreen (lifesaver) and some coffee and pastries at Blackbird Bakery (maybe also a lifesaver), we started our drive up and across the Peninsula to Sequim. About an hour later we arrived in the booming metropolis of downtown Sequim, kitted up, and headed west for Port Angeles.

Continue reading →

Some Days Seattle Makes You Forget …

… how atrocious the weather is 9 months of the years.


I was a tad late getting up the hill, so I missed the best part of the sunset. Nevertheless, a 75 degree evening, over looking downtown, with a big old volcano looming in the distance feels pretty grand.

Help Fight ALS, Win Awesome Prizes from Portland Design Works and Nuun!

Becky and I are doing ALS Double Day fundraiser ride again this year. The two-day ride in Washington’s Skagit valley raises money for the Evergreen Chapter of the ALS association. In order to help motivate people to donate, I’ve put together a little fundraiser raffle. For every $5 you donate to my fundraiser page, you get an entry into the raffle and a chance to win rad prizes from Portland Design Works and Nuun. I’ve posted all the necessary details about the contest and all the sweet stuff you could win for helping do something great on The Bicycle Story. So go check it out, donate, and earn yourself a chance to win tools, lights, hydration products, and more.

My Bell Got Rung. Hard.

You ever have that dream that you were out riding your bike with your friends, then all of a sudden you’re whisked away to the hospital where you’re helped by shadowy figures you can hear, but can’t really see? I was really sure I was having that dream last Thursday evening. Then the hospital social worker walked Becky into my ER room and I realized I must actually be in the hospital. I believe my first words to Becky were “so, this is really happening, then?”

It started off like a normal Thursday. I’d joined my friends Robert and Chris and a few others for their regular Thursday night social ride around town. The ride starts at the Summit Pub for a beer then heads off on a long and indirect route to another pub or restaurant for a bite to eat and another pint. It’s a great way to hang out with friends and get in a few good miles of riding on a weekday evening.

Continue reading →

Secret Island Off-Road Redux

A few weeks ago (or more like a month, probably), I did a second trip to the Secret Island Off Road Cyclocross trails with some of the teammates. My camera settings were right, so the pictures didn’t come out all blue. But, looking back I was too busy riding and having fun to remember to take many pictures. Oh well.


You remember this random, tagged-up building?

This creepy mask was outside of it this time.

Continue reading →

Mic Check or Long Overdue Housekeeping Notes Round 2

I’m reasonable sure this thing is still on so here’s my semi-reasonable excuse for going a month without posting anything:

I got a new job! I am now Cascade Land Conservancy’s media associate.  I’m just wrapping up my fourth week there and so far it’s great. In addition to the sort of social media work that’s par for the course with any nonprofit media job these days, I’ve been doing tons of editing and fair bit of writing. It’s certainly a different style of writing than the Bike Nerd column for PubliCola or most of the freelance work I’ve done in the past. But, it’s still engaging and challenging and makes me use my brain and my writing skills so I’m pretty damn pleased with it all.

CLC is kind of a big, complicated organization but the short version is this. CLC is an environmental nonprofit dedicated to land conservancy, as you might imagine, as well as restoration, policy work, and advocacy. After four weeks on the job, I’m starting to get a better understanding of everything that goes on at CLC, but I’ve still got a ways to go. It’s a big part of the reason I’ve neglected the blog (and The Bicycle Story) so miserably. After a day of meetings and writing press releases and speeches and editing other people’s work and trying to figure out how to accurately portray CLC and its mission throughout all that, it’s been easy to come home and find plenty to do that isn’t sitting down to write.

But now that the learning curve is starting to level out a little bit, I’m finding I’ve got more energy for other things after work. I’m going to try and make blogging regularly one of those things again. I’m hoping to continue freelance writing to some extent as well. Probably to a far less frequent extent. But if I can get a handful of articles published each year still to keep my hand in the game, I’ll be really pleased.

Semi-Secret Island Cyclocross


I didn’t notice that the camera settings were screwy until after the ride, so everything’s got a bit of a blue tint. My bad.

It started with a little aside at a team get together. Seth mentioned that he’d heard from one of the mechanics at 2nd Ascent that there were some excellent, cross-bike worthy trails a short ferry ride away on *Nearby* Island. I sent a message to a certain local cyclocross pro that I interviewed for The Bicycle Story last fall that grew up on *Nearby* Island. He confirmed that the trails were there and ready for shredding. I went to work trying to find trail maps and came across a list of all the hiking trails on the island with maps. From there I mapped out a route connecting seven trails with short road sections in between. The end result was a nice 18ish mile loop featuring awesome singletrack for cross bikes and a nearly 50-50 split between on-road and off.

There’s almost nothing new under the cycling sun, especially in a big bike town like Seattle. It often feels like every route—road, mountain, and cyclocross—has already been mapped, ridden, and well-documented for years and years. And even though the same is probably true for my *Nearby* Island mixed-terrain route, it felt like we were exploring new frontiers when Erik, Craig, and I set out from the ferry headed towards the trails.

Continue reading →

Remembering Granddad Bob


Granddad Bob with Bud in hand.

My grandfather passed away Monday night. It didn’t come as a surprise. He’d been in the hospital since the previous week after having a bad heart attack while mowing the lawn at his house. Surprise or no, the passing of a relative is still sad and still a shock to the system. My own sadness is multiplied by the grief my mom and uncle are feeling at the loss of their dad and that of my Grandma JeanMarie at the loss of her husband of 35 years.

At the same time, I’m really happy that I can look back and remember Granddad Bob with fondness and respect. My Aunt Kellie scanned some photos of him yesterday and they brought a lot of memories out of the recesses of my mind.


My mom, her brothers, and Granddad at his 80th birthday party.

He was the epitome of a kind grandfather figure. He loved filling that role with my sister and I when we’d visit him at the home he built himself on the Olympic Peninsula. He’d take us down to the marina in Grapeview, the tiny town he lived outside of, or down to the beach below his property and show us how to cast a line into the Sound. We only ever caught bottom feeders. Watching Granddad release the little bastards off the hook freaked me out and I refused to help.

There were also lots of trips down to Mount St. Helens. I couldn’t stand the boredom of driving from his house to the volcano. Heck, I would imagine that I was probably pretty bored once we got to the park. Middle-school Josh had little-to-no enthusiasm for history vacations. But in retrospect, I really appreciate that he was trying to share an amazing, important, and physically stunning piece of Washington’s history with us.


Granddad, my Uncle Jim, and newborn cousin Fletcher.

A product of his generation, Granddad Bob certainly had a bit of gruff style at times. Once when my mom and I were visiting  she bought some skim milk for me to drink (middle-school Josh was also kind of chubby). Grandad’s response was, “whatcha got him drinking that white water for? Did the doctor say he should do it to lose some weight?”

Fortunately, I got to see Granddad not too long before he passed. My mom was in town for a visit a month ago and we spent a day visiting with Bob and JeanMarie at their home in Lacey. They moved off the peninsula a few years back to be closer to medical facilities. Bob was looking a little frail when we saw him and his mind was clearly working slower than it used to, but he was still getting around on his own, was still contributing to the conversation, and still ordered his Seven and Seven with dinner.


Christmas 1993. According to Kellie, Granddad is actually on the phone with Leah and me in this picture.

It’s sad to see a good guy go. He’ll be dearly missed. But there’s comfort knowing he had a long, full life and passed without pain or suffering. I think I’ll be damn satisfied if I, like Granddad Bob, am still living in my own house and mowing my own lawn when I am 84 years old.