Driver Accused Of Causing Cyclist To Crash

Just about any person, place, thing or state of being can be a tool or a weapon.  Included in the latter category are advanced age and the knowledge and wisdom it brings--for some people, anyway.  Among the "things" are the pharmaceuticals and the automobile and its many safety and convenience features.

Age, pharmaceuticals, the automobile and one of its features in particular came together to endanger the life of a cyclist in Gerry, an Erie County, New York town near the Pennsylvania border.

Dale Reynolds of Meadville, Pennsylvania was driving along Route 60 when he flashed his high beams at a cyclist traveling in the opposite directions.  High beams, of course, can be useful in dire situations, when the weather is brutish and visibility is poor. But those same lights are too often used to bully and otherwise intimidate cyclists, pedestrians and other drivers.

According to New York State police, Reynolds showed "multiple signs" of drug impairment, which resulted in his arrest.  Oh, and he's 82 years old.  I'm not saying that there should be a cut-off age for driving.  But I think there should be more frequent and stringent testing of senior citizens' reaction times and other cognitive abilities if they are to be allowed to continue driving.  You have to wonder, not only about Reynolds' reflexes, or his judgment:  He ought to know, at this late date, not to drive while impaired.

The failed sobriety tests resulted in his arrest for impaired driving--and causing the cyclist at whom he flashed his high beams to crash.  Gerry EMS workers took the cyclist to a local hospital as a precaution,  while Reynolds was taken to the State Police Barracks in Jamestown, where he was processed, charged, released and scheduled to appear in Gerry Court later this month.

While there are cyclists who ride carelessly and flout laws, my four decades-plus of cycling have shown me that drivers are too often not held to account for endangering, deliberately or not, cyclists.  While I am not hoping for a long prison sentence for an 82-year-old man, I am hoping that Reynolds gets whatever help and treatment he needs and, if necessary, his driving privileges restricted or revoked.

Must More Riding Mean More Fatalities?

In a coincidence that, perhaps, isn't such a coincidence, I chanced upon an item about an increase in the number of cyclists killed on Texas roads at the same time a local radio news program mentioned that pedestrian fatalities here in New York City have increased during the past year.

I have also seen and heard reports of increases in the number of cyclists killed and injured on New York City streets.  So, hearing about pedestrian fatalities here and cyclists killed in the Lone Star State did not surprise me because cyclist and pedestrian casualties tend to rise or fall in tandem.

The reports point to a dramatic increase in the number of cyclists as a reason for more crashes and fatalities.  The same isn't said for pedestrians, though I have seen more people walking around as pandemic-induced restrictions are eased or lifted.  But I think that there is a related, and more relevant, reason for the increase in deaths and injuries among cyclists and pedestrians.

During the first few months of the pandemic, there was little traffic on the roads.  I can recall riding to Connecticut and back last spring and being able to count, on both hands, the number of motorized vehicles I saw along the way, not counting the ones that crossed the RFK Memorial Bridge.  Until last spring, I never could have imagined such an occurence on a 140 kilometer road ride that takes me through the Bronx and Westchester County before crossing the state line.

As spring turned into summer, traffic was still light, but I noticed faster and more aggressive driving, including some drag racing and other flouting of traffic laws.  Those things were annoying, but I didn't feel I was in danger because the still-light traffic afforded a wide berth between me and the drivers.

During the past few months, though, I've seen more traffic.  Some people, I guess, are returning to their workplaces and old routines, while others started driving and bought cars (for the first time, in some instances) because they didn't want to use mass transit.

But the folks who got used to driving fast and aggressively, or even carelessly, aren't adjusting to the new reality.  They still want to drive as if they have the streets to themselves.  And, in my own unscientific observation, it seems that police aren't enforcing traffic laws as much as they were before the pandemic--if, indeed, they were enforcing them against any but the lowest-hanging fruit (i.e., cyclists and pedestrians).

Having done a fair amount of cycling in other cities, states and countries, I can make this observation:  Building bike lanes and lecturing cyclists about safety--which most of us practice to the best degree we can--does little to prevent tragic encounters between motorists and cyclists and pedestrians.  

What will  make life better for everyone involved are sensible laws and policies (like the Idaho Stop) crafted by people who understand what it's like to ride a city's streets--and a culture rather than a mere lifestyle of cycling.  The culture of which I speak is one in which cycling is seen as a viable mode of transportation rather than just a form of recreation for privileged young people. Such a culture exists in some European countries; that is why there is more respect between drivers and cyclists and pedestrians.

Otherwise, cities and other jurisdictions can continue to build poorly-designed and constructed bike lanes that lead from nowhere to nowhere, and cyclists--or pedestrians or motorists--won't be any safer.

Debris Causes Fatal Bike Crash

One of the least-acknowledged hazards to cyclists is debris.

Once, I flatted when I ran over a metal strip used to bind bundles of lumber or bricks together for shipping to construction sites.  Work crews were leaving them on sidewalks and in streets until the city cracked down on them.  My tire was punctured near Tompkins Square Park; I fixed it in part because I wasn't takin' no stinkin' subway home when I could pedal.  Also, I might've been too poor to take the train!

I can joke about it now, but I'd heard of cyclists who suffered more serious accidents, resulting in serious injuries, as a result of running over those straps.  I've also heard of riders who crashed as a result of other kinds of debris or from sharp bumps that result from cement dripping from trucks and drying.  

As a result of my experiences, and of the stories I've heard, I occasionally clean up the section of bike lane that runs by my apartment, and pick up potentially-hazardous objects I find.  I like to think I'm helping to make conditions safer, and to prevent an accident.

Bill Woodard, about to embark on his last bike ride, 13 April 2021.  

Like the one that befell Bill Woodard in St. George, Utah.  Shortly before 11 am last Tuesday, responders were dispatched to Woodard, who lay on the side of Route 7.  He'd been riding with longtime friend and riding partner Gordon MacFarlane when he rode over a piece of metal that lodged into the spokes of his front wheel.  

The object that caused the crash.

Apparently, MacFarlane didn't hear it and assumed his friend was rolling behind him until a vehicle pulled up alongside him. Its driver yelled to him that a cyclist was lying on the side of the road.  He turned around and headed back to find ambulance crew members performing CPR on Woodard.

They--and MacFarlane--at first assumed that Woodard, who was 75 years old, suffered a heart attack or other medical issue.  But, it seems that anything they'd done would've been to no avail:  His neck was broken and he incurred serious head trauma.  Since Woodard never regained consciousness after falling, he couldn't tell anyone what happened, and the cause of his accident wasn't surmised until the object that lodged in his spokes was found.  

Kevin Kitchen, a spokesman for the Utah Department of Transportation, confirmed that debris is a "serious problem" in area roads and "much of the debris" the maintenance force finds "appears to have come from loads consisting of construction materials."

There is another little-acknowledged problem--much of the debris that is hazardous to cyclists, and to the general public, is a result of construction, especially in places like southern Utah that are experiencing construction booms. 

This Isn't An Experiment

Some people simply cannot abide any toe-clip overlap.  Me, I can stand a little, depending on the bike and how I'm riding it.  But this is, shall we say, a bit out of my range.

What's worse is the way it was achieved, if you will:

I'm thinking now of Rigi bikes from about 40 years ago. Its creators made the wheelbase shorter by splitting the seat tube in two--rather like the top tube on a mixte frame--and running the wheel between the smaller tubes:



I've heard of a bike that does the same thing with the down tube:  The front wheel runs through it.  I don't know how one steer such a machine.  The only possible use I can see for it is a motor-paced time trial.

Now I'll dispense with the levity:  As you probably have surmised, I didn't try to alter Arielle's geometry. Rather, it happened--in front of a nondescript tenement on Bonnefoy Avenue in New Rochelle.

I was pedaling, at a pretty good pace, home from Connecticut.  Well, I thought I was going home:  I hit something and, the next thing I knew, I was getting stitched up.   Then someone in the New Rochelle hospital decided I should be observed in a trauma unit, to which I was sent. 

Poor Arielle.  As for me, I still feel pain on the sides of my neck down to my shoulders.  Oh, and I have a headache and have been tired.  A trip to the drugstore felt like a century or a marathon.

When I got home, my face looked as if someone had superimposed a railroad map over a satellite image of the Martian surface.  It's a little better now, but I don't think I'll be modeling for Raphia any time soon.

I hate asking for money, but I think the real pain will begin when I see what my insurance doesn't cover.  So, I've set up a GoFundMe page.

I hope, more than anything, to be back in the saddle soon.  Until then, I'm going to catch up on some reading, writing and a project.  And Marlee is going to catch up with, well, the cuddles she misses when I'm out of the house!

Thank you!

The Only Way You Can Pin Down A World-Class Rider

A few cyclists who are even more dedicated (to what, I don’t know) than I am, or are simply more Retro-grouchy than one of my favorite bloggers, has a pair of wheels with wooden rims.

Once upon a time, such wheels were de rigueur.  After all, wood is light (at least compared to metal), strong and resilient.  All racers used them until Mavic developed alloy rims.  While road riders embraced this new development, track racers used wooden rims until they were banned for competition during the 1950s.

Why were wooden rims banished from the velodrome?

Well, when an metal wheel is crashed, it bends or crumples.  But a wood rim is likely to shatter. That is made all the more likely because on track wheels, the spokes are tuned to a higher tension, and the tires are pumped to higher pressures, than on road bikes.  

The result of an “exlpoding” wooden rim was often a cloud of wooden shards that could shush-kebab riders or spectators.

Decades after the ban on wooden rims, many velodromes have wood surfaces. Nobody anticipated such hazards from them—until now.

Lorenzo Gobbo suffered a previously unheard-of mishap.  Apparently, when he went down, his pedal scraped up a half-meter length of the track that ended up in his back—and pierced  his  lung

He is expected to make a full recovery.  But  you have to wonder: how many other cyclists  have come out of a race looking as if they’d  been attacked by an  by an archer?

Can You Hold It?

Do you really need to blow your nose right now?

Chris Froome probably wishes he'd asked himself that question--and, more important, answered it with a firm "No!"

For unexplained reasons, he blew his nose during the time trial of the Criterium du Daphine last week.  He may have breathed (That's the first time I've ever used that verb in the conditional present perfect tense) easier, but only for a brief moment.  A very brief moment.

He crashed.  That left him with a fractured femur, elbow, neck and ribs and with two liters less blood than he had before he blew his nose.



The result:  Not only was he out of commission after the fourth stage of the race; he has also forefitted much of the remaining season.  At any rate, he won't get to ride in the Tour de France, which he's won four times.

That, of course, has led to more than a few conspiracy theories.  After all, the record for TdF victories is five.  And the four cyclists who share the record are Continentals: Eddy Mercx is Belgian, Miguel Indurain is Basque/Spanish and Bernard Hinault and Jacques Anquetil are French.

I mean, how would that look if a Brit entered that lofty company--just as his country was pulling out of the European Union.

Hmm...Could some anti-Brexiteer have dusted the air in front of him?

(I confess! ;-)

Fleeing: Speed Without Skill

A rush of adrenaline might make you stronger and faster, or at least feel as if you are.  It does not, however, improve your cycling skills.

Raymond Rodriguez of Roseburg, Oregon discovered that the hard way.  Around 3:50 this past Saturday morning, a police officer tried to stop him.  He took off--and crashed.

It's not the first time I've heard of someone crashing while trying to flee on bicycle.  My guess is that Rodriguez, like most criminals, is not an experienced cyclist--or, at least, he was riding under greater stress than normal. 

Anyway, after crashing, he did what almost all would-be fugitives do in such a situation:  He tried to continue on foot.  And he met the same fate as those others:  He was caught in short order.   And arrested.

While in custody, cops found methamphetamine on him.  He was jailed for that, and interfering with police, but has since been released.  

Maybe now he can work on his high-speed cycling skills.

R.I.P Kelly Catlin

By now, you've probably heard that Kelly Catlin died.

The USCF confirmed her death on Sunday.  I waited to write about her because, like many people, I reacted with disbelief when I learned how she died:  suicide.  

Of course, it's terrible when anyone kills him or her self.  I know:  Five people in my life, including two close friends, did it.  But people were all the more shocked about Kelly because, really, she seemed to have everything going for her:  She was young (23 years old) and had a range of talents most of us can only dream about.

I mean, how many people pursue a graduate degree in computational and mathematical engineering--after getting an undergraduate degree in mathematics and Chinese--from Stanford, no less?  Oh, and as her brother Colin recalls, she could go from listening to German industrial heavy metal to playing Paganini on her violin.  In fact, when she was training for the 2016 Olympics, she spent her spare time memorizing Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D Major, all 35 pages of it.

Such talents, and her pursuit of them, could have made her hermetic.  People who knew her, however, described her as warm, funny and generous.

But the reason why her suicide made the news is that she was part of the US Women's Pursuit Team that won the silver medal in the 2016 Olympics--and won three consecutive World Championships from that year through 2018.

Kelly Catlin (second from left) on the podium with her teammates at the Rio Olympics, 2016

According to reports, she was advised not to participate in this year's championships.  That alone probably wouldn't have sent her "over the edge."  But the reason that advice was given to her may have been the cause.

She had experienced a series of crashes that left her with injuries, including a concussion.  We've heard a lot about those among NFL players--some of whom, not coincidentally, have taken their own lives.

It's known that concussions can alter the structure of a person's brain.  A cheerful, optimistic person who suffers such an injury can therefore become angry and depressed, and people who pride themselves on their physical and mental dexterity find themselves fumbling through things that had been routine.

The problem is that no one seems able to determine the extent of the damage or other change to the brain of someone who's been concussed--until an autopsy is performed.  And if the person's mind is benighted with thoughts of ending his or her life, the usual entreaties to seek help are of no use.  

Kelly's family is donating her brain to be used for research.  I am sure their gesture, or even the knowledge that doctors and scientists will learn much from it, will not comfort them.  But we can only hope that we won't have to hear more stories about lives full of promise--or, for that matter, any life--ended too soon.

This Never Would Have Happened On The Set Of "Breaking Away". Or Would It?

Well, now we know why studios employ stunt-doubles.  You know, they're those folks who do flips, get into crashes and put themselves in all manner of actual or configured peril so as not to risk scarring the pretty (and highly bankable) faces.

I mean, do you really think Hugh Jackman knows any more how to fight than I know how to fish for lobsters?  Why do you think Richard Bradshaw doubled for him in X-Men:  Days of Future Passed? Surely the fact that Bradshaw is Jackman's brother-in-law could not have been the only reason!

For every Hugh Jackman, there is at least one other actor who should have a stunt double.  I am thinking now of Joseph Gordon-Levitt.  He played a bike messenger in Premium Rush.  Although six years have passed since that movie's release, one might expect that his work in it would have prepared him for scenes in which he rides a bike for his latest flick, Power.

During the filming, which is going on as of this writing, he landed in the ER after flipping over his handlebars.

He says, "I have bad luck shooting on bikes," a reference to another mishap during the filming of Premium Rush.

B

Surely, there must be some retired mountain bike racer who could use a payday.

Carrying The Evidence Against Him

If you're going to commit a crime, you shouldn't leave evidence.  And you certainly had better not have the evidence on you when you get caught.

Josue Flores-Ochoa has just learned this lesson.  The 27-year-old from the Boston suburb of Everett had one too many and drove through nearby Revere in the wee hours of Sunday morning. At the same time, a 56-year-old man from Winthrop was riding his bike.

Unfortunately, you can guess what happened next:  Flores-Ochoa struck the man with his car. 

The man was taken to a nearby hospital where, fortunately, his wounds were not found to be life-threatening.

In another instance of good fortune, police found Flores-Ochoa a short time later.  Several people reported seeing the crash, which certainly helped. 

Don't carry the evidence with you!

But Flores-Ochoa actually did more than anyone else to help the police find him:  When he drove away after hitting the man, the bicycle was attached to the front of his car.  It was still there when the cops stopped him on Washington Avenue in Chelsea.

I wish his victim a speedy recovery.  Most of all, I want him to be well enough to get a chuckle out of Flores-Ochoa's ineptitude.

Drones And Crits Don't Mix

When riding in the city, a cyclist has to be aware of--in addition to motor vehicles and their drivers--pedestrians.  All it takes is one darting across the street at mid-block, or someone ambling through an intersection while looking at an iPhone screen, to send a cyclist tumbling to the pavement.  

In fact, I have incurred two falls--one on Broadway in SoHo, the other in Coney Island--caused by pedestrians who barrelled across a street without looking in the direction of the approaching traffic (which included me).  In the SoHo incident, said pedestrian--who was shopping with a friend--at least stopped and apologized. In the other mishap, the boy who plowed into me--who appeared to be about 14 or 15 years old--simply kept on going.  

I wasn't hurt in either incident, but things could have been worse.  Even scarier, though, were two instances in which I didn't actually crash, but could easily have taken a hit and a tumble.  Both happened when I was riding down mountains and an animal crossed my path:  a deer in Pennsylvania; an Alpine Ibex just after I crossed the border from France into Switzerland.  

During my brief career as an amateur racer, I went down once and had a near-miss.  Both were the result of other riders who jackknifed in front of me.  In the crash, I wrecked an expensive front wheel but, fortunately, not the bike--or me.  In the near-miss, another rider incurred similar damage when he and a couple of other riders hit the pavement a bit further back in the pack from where I'd been riding.

Now it seems there's a new hazard that can take a racer out of the game, or leave a rider with  road rash or worse:



It almost sounds like one of those excuses I'd hear from a student who didn't show up for class the day a term paper was due.  (That's happening to me this week!)  "I got hit by a drone".  At least, that's now more plausible than "My drone ate it!"

Seriously, though:  We have to watch for low-flying or falling drones.  Imagine if one caused a pileup in, say, the Tour, Giro or Vuelta!

His Stance On Discs

Nearly two years ago, a driver in China narrowly missed death when a runaway circular saw blade impaled the front of his car.

I was reminded of that today after reading about what happened to Owain Doull.

The Sky Team rider crashed with one kilometre remaining in the opening stage of the Abu Dabhi Tour.  Normally, that wouldn't elicit much attention--riders crash during races all the time.  What is causing controversy, though, is an injury he suffered and, more important, what he believes to be the cause.

When he was being treated for road rash on his back side, he pointed to his foot and showed a cut that was visible through a tear in his sock.  

It's unusual, to say the least, for  riders to incur that sort of cut on their feet.  Even if they are wearing flip-flops, they are unlikely to incur more than some scrapes, painful as those wounds may be. 

So what could have cut through Doull's shoe and caused such a wound?  He says that it was the rotor of a disc brake.  "If anything, I've come off lucky here," he said.  "If that'd been my leg, it would have cut straight through it, for sure."

In other words, by a dint of fate, he narrowly avoided--at the very least--the kind of injury Francisco Ventoso suffered last year in the Paris-Roubaix race.  The directeur sportif of Movistar, Ventoso's team, said "The cut was so deep you could see the tibia."

That mishap led to a temporary ban on disc brakes in the peloton, which was recently lifted "on a trial basis" according to the sport's governing body, the Union Cycliste Internationale.  Disc brakes were allowed on the condition that the rotors' edges were rounded off. Marcel Kittel, the only rider using disc brakes in the Abu Dabhi tour, was using rounded Shimano rotors after insisting he wouldn't use technology otherwise.

Doull was asked whether he has a stance on disc brakes.  "I do now," he said.  "In my opinion, unless there are covers on those things, they're pretty lethal."

Others have expressed the opinion that "everybody or nobody" should use them in a race.  Whatever one thinks of disc brakes (I have never used them myself, and probably won't unless some compelling reason presents itself.), I think it's fair to ask why Kittel or anyone else saw the need to use them in pancake-flat Abu Dabhi.

How To Turn Your Touring Bike Into A Racer

In one of my early posts, I talked about a Romic Sport Touring bicycle I had in my youth.  For a time, it was my only bike, so I did my "fast" riding, touring and even my errands on it.

"Fast" riding included everything from actual races to informal contests with riding buddies that ended with one of us buying the other beer and/or lunch.  Sometimes the later were part of vigorous club rides; other times, they were training rides that turned into impromptu competitions.  "Touring" could mean anything from a day or weekend ride to a longer trip with panniers and a handlebar bag.  

The Romic had a geometry and build that made it suitable for many different kinds of riding:  rather like Arielle, my Mercian Audax.  I did my first European bike tour on it, with the first pair of wheels I had built for me:  Campagnolo Nuovo Tipo hubs, Super Champion 58 clincher rims and Robergel Sport spokes.  I also had a pair of tubular (sew-up) wheels with those same hubs and Super Champion Arc en Ciel tubular rims, which I used for racing and "fast" rides (the planned ones, anyway!).  

In addition to switching wheels, I would  move the adjustment screws on the dropouts:

If I wanted to ride faster, I would move the screws inward to bring the wheel closer to shorten the wheelbase.

Now, many new frames come with vertical dropouts

which don't allow for any adjustment.  So, if you have a sport touring bike and want to shorten the wheelbase, you're "shitouttaluck" as we used to say in my old neighborhood.

Or are you?  Apparently, someone came up with a way to shorten his wheelbase:

At least, that's how an e-Bay seller in described his 1978 Motobecane Grand Jubile's encounter with a sewer grate:

"Good condition for its age but frame suffered an impact (hitting a sewer grating) which caused the wheelbase to be shortened slightly."

Hmm...Maybe the next time someone steals a pedal or wheel or saddle from one of my parked bikes, I'll tell myself that the thief did me a favor by lightening my bike.  I'm sure that will help the bike (and me) to go faster! 

Saul Lopez Probably Never Saw It Coming

When a cyclist ends up under a motor vehicle, do you assume--if only for a moment--that it was some careless driver who was texting, drunk or simply not paying attention?

I admit: I do.  Perhaps it's because I've heard and  read too many of those stories.  

Do you also assume that a single motor vehicle, and driver, was involved?  Again, I admit that I do.  Reason:  See above.

Now, when you hear that two motor vehicles collide, do you picture both of them stopped as a result of the impact?  If you answered "yes", welcome to a club that includes me.  

Also, if you are like me, you probably don't expect a cyclist to be run down by one of those two vehicles that collided. In fact, I'd never heard of such a case--until today.

The crash site in Pacoima.

The other day, in the Pacoima neighborhood of Los Angeles' San Fernando Valley, a 2016 Dodge Ram pickup truck was headed south on Glenoaks Boulevard.  It collided with a 2006 Chevrolet pickup truck running eastward on Vaughn Street. 

The impact sent both trucks careening southward to an intersection where the Dodge struck a 15-year-old boy who was riding his bike westbound, to school, in the south crosswalk at around 7 am.  He was pinned under the truck and after police arrived, Saul Lopez was declared dead at the scene.

Saul Lopez, from the GoFundMe page for his funeral costs.

The good news--if there could be said to be any--is that both drivers stopped at the scene and cooperated with police.  Neither was arrested.  It's not clear which of them had the right of way.

A GoFundMe page created to cover the costs of his funeral has already raised nearly $28,000: about $13,000 more than the goal.  If only it weren't necessary!

A Moment Of Tragedy: Cyclists Run Down In Brooklyn And Indiana

One of my favorite films is Night On Earth.  I won't argue that it's a great film or that Jim Jarmusch is America's answer to Fellini or Truffaut.  It's not the sort of film that will teach you any great lessons or makes any grand artistic statements.  Rather, it reveals people without judging them, which is--to me--one of the best things an artist can do. 

What all of the characters share is the kinship of the night and the confines of taxicabs.  The film shows us what happens inside cabs on a particular night in five different cities:  Los Angeles, New York, Paris, Rome and Helsinki.  Some of the actions and interactions are very, very funny--especially in the New York sequence.  But all of them reveal hopes, vulnerabilities, resentments and so much more.

I've often thought that if I were a filmmaker, I'd want to do something similar with cyclists.  Perhaps I could show a messenger in New York or London or San Francisco, for example, and, say, someone riding to or from work (or to shop) in Paris or Amsterdam and other kinds of cyclists in other places.  Of course, the point of such a film--if indeed there was one--would be to show what it means to be a member of the family of two wheels, if you will.

But there would be a terrible flip-side to such a narrative:  Cyclists who are on the losing end of encounters with motorists, or who are involved in some other kind of mishap.  I was reminded of this when I learned of two tragedies that occurred at around the same time, in two different parts of the United States.

One unfolded in my own backyard, more or less.  Thomas Groarke--suspected of driving drunk--ran down 17-year-old cyclist Sean Ryan near Marine Park, at the far southern end of Brooklyn.  Ryan was pedaling along Gerritsen Avenue, where I have ridden many times.  As the street is long and flat, and the streets that feed into it see little traffic--and even less from people who don't live in the neighborhood--some drivers seem to see it as a local version of the Daytona Speedway.  And, because the area is relatively remote, on the edge of Jamaica Bay, it is not as well-patrolled as some more central areas of Brooklyn.

The impact of the crash severed the bicycle in half.  I shudder to think of what it did to Sean Ryan's body!

Police investigate the scene where Sean Ryan was run  down.

A few hours after that tragedy unfolded on the East Coast, in the middle of Indiana, 36-year-old Theresa Corey Burris was riding to work, on US 40, just east of Hancock County Road 250W.  An 18-wheeler driven carrying an oversize load--a huge concrete slab that protruded onto the shoulder of the road--struck her.  Its driver, 55-year-old Reed Thompson, apparently was unaware he'd run her over until police stopped him half a mile from the scene.  

At the scene where Theresa Corey Burris was run down

Sean Ryan and Theresa Corey Burris were both riding at around the same time.  That unites them; so, unfortunately, is the way they met their endings.  I would prefer that we, as cyclists, share different bonds and that our fates are not similarly bound in a tragic moment.

Farce And Tragedy On Bastille Day

Yesterday, I complained about the lack of drama in this year's Tour de France.

Well, I guess I should have known better than to write such a post on the day before Bastille Day.  It's the French national holiday and, let me tell you, it's not boring. At least, the Bastille Days I've spent in France weren't.

Today, though, provided the sort of drama that I think almost nobody wanted.  For one thing, defending TdF champion Chris Froome--along with Richie Porte and and Bauke Mollema--crashed into a motorbike on Mont Ventoux, just a kilometer from the Stage 12 finish.

Chris Froome runs up Mont Ventoux

His own bike was wrecked, and his team's support car was five minutes behind.  So he ran until he could grab a neutral service bike; about 200 meters later, he switched to a bike from the Team Sky car, on which he finished the stage.

I have great respect for Froome's determination and conditioning.  But let's just say that when he's riding, he's no Stephen Roche.  Few elite cyclists ever looked more fluid and graceful while pedaling than the Irishman who won the Tour, Giro d'Italia and World road championship in 1987.  On the other hand, Froome's limbs seem to move at every angle except the one in which he's pedaling.  While running, he looked even more ungainly, if that were possible.

But the crash and Froome's run seemed rational and orderly compared to some of the roadside spectators.  Now, I have to make a confession:  On Chamrousse in 2001, I leaned within a tire's breadth of Lance Armstrong to take a photo of him riding to victory in the time trial.  Still, I am going to chide all of those spectators who simply had to get their .15 seconds of fame; one or more of them may have caused that motorbike to lose control.

Now, I've been in France enough to know that French people like spectacle as much as anyone, and they are not averse  to farce.  But I suspect today's events at the Tour de France might have been a bit much even for them--especially since it's their national holiday and they were hoping for a victory from one of their countrymen on a stage that ended with one of the Tour's most iconic climbs.

Then again, the French I know have perspective. (Wars, occupations and such will give you that!)  Anything that happened, or could have happened on today's Tour stage pales in significance with the tragic event in Nice.  Whoever drove that truck into the crowd, and whatever his or her motives, it was an act of terror:  It seemed to come out of nowhere and struck a place and people who were celebrating a holiday in one of the loveliest seaside cities I've ever seen.

What Didn't Stop Him, And What Kept Him Going

A man riding his bicycle strikes a barbed-wire fence and flipped over his handlebars.

Ouch!

According to police officers who pursued him, he continued his flight on foot.

I'm having a very difficult time imagining how the man managed not to entangle himself in the barbed wire if he flipped over his bars when he crashed into the fence.  

And I'm having only a slightly less difficult time envisioning someone who took such a tumble--whether or not he was impaled with the barbed wire--getting up and running away.


Maybe I'm just a wimp with a low pain threshold.  Or, maybe the man's ability to endure suffering is explained by what the cops found beside his bike:  a box of prescription pills.  After they used a TASER on him, they also found a marijuana pipe in his pocket and a small amount of marijuana in an undisclosed location.

 

He's quite the character:  A warrants check showed that he was wanted for possession of a controlled substance, injury to a child and bond forfeiture related to his failure to comply with a sex-offender registration law.

Hmm...Maybe the pot and pills weren't the only reason why he got up and ran after crashing the bicycle into a barbed wire fence and flipping over the bars.

From what I see in the photo, the bike doesn't look any the worse for the experience.

Broken Threads

While perusing the web, I came across a blog that featured photos like this one:

 There hasn't been a new post on "Busted Carbon" in nearly two years.  However, its author found enough material to keep it going for three years.

Here's another choice shot:

Imagine going more than 70 KPH and, suddenly, your bike's frame splits behind the head tube.  Your handlebars and wheels fly out from under you.  

No mention was made of what happened to that bike's rider.  I hope he or she fared better than this one:

In previous posts, I mentioned that I resisted the "tri-spoke" wheel fad of about two decades ago.  Although I tried a set and liked the ride (for fast rides, anyway), I didn't buy a set after seeing one fail like this:

One of the few carbon-fiber components I've ever owned was a pair of mountain bike handlebars I--in one of my more misguided moments--installed on my Jamis Dakota.  I don't remember what brand the bars were.  But I distinctly recall how they failed when I jumped a creek in Vermont because they ended up like this:

Those strands are as sharp and jagged as shards of broken glass.  After my bars failed that way, I was so glad that I never had a carbon fiber seat post!