Not Good Times For GT

 Hetchins frames have curly stays.  Mercian Vincitore and other custom frames have curly lugs. On the other side of the coin, early Cannondales had oversized tubes that somehow seemed even bigger and some of the ugliest joints and paint jobs ever seen on a bike shop-quality frame.

Those are a few of the bikes that, if you don’t know enough to tell them apart from others from a mile away, you can see are different from others.

GT bicycles also fit into that category. Even if the decals were removed, “in the know” cyclists would know they were looking at a GT because of its “triple triangle” frame design—and everyone else could see that the bike is different. Not all GTs had that feature, but if you were to see a frame that has it, you could be all but certain it’s a GT.

When I was an active mountain biker during the 1990s, GT was one of the most respected names. It’s also one of the first names associated with BMX, one of the few cycling disciplines I haven’t tried and where Gary Turner, the brand’s founder, got his start. Their road bikes have also been well-received.

I have never owned a GT but have had opportunities to try them and can say that I understand why it had more “brand loyalty” than most other names: As I recall, the ones I tried were responsive and offered good traction even with slick tires in dirt. I might’ve bought one had a too-good-to-pass up deal on a Bontrager Race Lite in my size hadn’t presented itself.

In spite of their bikes’ virtues, GT, like other iconic bike names, hasn’t been immune to the “crash” that followed the bike industry’s “sugar high” during the first year or two of the COVID-19 pandemic.  This week, Jason Schiers, the company’s managing director, announced that there will be layoffs by the end of this year. The company also said it’s not releasing new products and plans to sell off its existing inventory through 2025.

Not being an industry analyst, I can only guess at what, specifically, benighted GT. So here goes: I think they are most closely associated with two disciplines—mountain biking and BMX—whose popularity has fallen off in recent years, as participants in the latter have aged out and the kids are opting for video games. In the meantime, the sorts of riders who might’ve gotten involved with mountain biking 30 years ago are opting for gravel riding or are riding eBikes.

Anyway, even though I’ve never owned a GT, I would be sorry to see the brand’s extinction.

Faster Than A (Not) Speeding OJ

 It’s ironic that California, where American car culture was born, was the location of the world’s most famous slow-speed chase—which, some argue, was also the birth of another unfortunate phenomenon: “reality” TV.

Now, I know that two instances of something doesn’t make a trend, especially if those instances are nearly three decades apart. Oh, and the pursuit of O.J. Simpson involved automobiles in the L.A. (no American calls it “Los Angeles”) area, and the chase in this video took place in the northern community of  Brentwood. 

The police were in their car when they followed their suspect, who was riding a bicycle—not much slower, I believe, than OJ drove his Ford Bronco.

A New Way To—And Off—The Island

 Here in New York City, we’ve gone from two months of unusually warm Fall temperatures and almost no rain to nearly two weeks of cold and almost daily rain.

The other day, I “played chicken” with the rain, all but daring it to fall on me as I rode, with no particular destination in mind.  More than anything, I wanted to ride for its own sake and to declare (at least to myself) an end to the flu or whatever turned my respiratory system into an EPA Superfund Site for a week.

Well, the rain chickened out (What else can I anthromorphosize in this post?)—perhaps out of spite, as I was riding one of my fendered bikes. So I had a dry, if chilly, ride with one pleasant surprise.

The RFK Memorial (formerly Triborough) Bridge is really a complex of three different spans that converge on Randall’s Island. One span, the Art Deco-inspired (and prettiest), connects Astoria, Queens with the Island and has a pretty good walkway/pedestrian lane.  I often crossed it when I lived in Astoria. Another, shorter, span links the Bronx to the Island. Its walkway, which zig-zagged up to East 132nd Street from the Island, closed nearly a decade ago, after the much better Randall’s Island Connector opened.

The third span, to Manhattan, includes a walkway that was accessible only by a sharply-winding ramp like the one on the Bronx span. But the entrance to the Manhattan ramp was easy to miss because it was tucked into a spot under the span itself, obscured by fences lining an NYPD maintenance facility. Also, it was very poorly lit: I am not the only one who wouldn’t use it at night.

Well, the pleasant surprise I encountered is a new, much safer, way to access the Manhattan span for cyclists, pedestrians and people with mobility aids.

I hadn’t planned to ride across the Manhattan span, but I did, just to check out the new entrance. It helps, I believe, to make the Island more accessible. I don’t think it will entice me to ride on or through the Island—I already do so more than most people—but I believe it might encourage others.

Liberation

 I live a block from the New York Botanical Garden and have visited several times during the eight months I’ve lived here.

About a mile (1.6 km) away is the Bronx Zoo. I went a couple of times as a kid but have no inclination to go there now:  I don’t think I can bear (no pun intended) to see animals in cages.

I do, however, wonder how they might escape.

Jason Lohr R.I.P.

 When a crash results in the death of a cyclist, the tragedy doesn’t end there. 

Such is the case of Jason Lohr. The 49-year-old bartender was riding northbound on Frankford Avenue, one of Philadelphia’s major thoroughfares, around 11:30 pm on 20 November. A driver traveling southbound made a left turn on East Hagert Street and collided with Jason, who died from his injuries last weekend.

The driver remained at the scene and is cooperating with the investigation

Jason was, apparently, extremely popular not only with patrons where he worked, but also in the local music and arts scenes.  Certainly, many people will miss him, but perhaps none more than his brother Dan. He is pleading with the city for more bike lanes—there is none on Frankford—and for cyclists to be “proactive.”

The Bicycle Coalition of Philadelphia is urging anyone who knows, or has lost, someone who was involved in a crash to reach out to Families For Safe Streets Greater Philadelphia by emailing nicole@bicyclecoalition.org.

And Standard Tap has a GoFundMe page for Jason Lohr and his family.

Learning Their ABCDEs

 Those of us who attended school in countries that use the Roman alphabet (or variations of it) began our education by “learning our ABC’s.”

Well, some young people in central Kansas are continuing their education by learning the ABCDE’s.

Oh, and their lessons will come on Sunday. But they won’t be part of “Sunday School” because, for one thing, they have nothing to do with religion and, for another, they’re being conducted at the Barton County Fairgrounds.

The bike repair workshops will run from 1 to 3 pm and are open to anyone in grades 4 to 12.

Hosting this event are the Golden Belt Badgers. If that sounds like a really cool name for a school mountain bike team, well, that’s exactly what it is.  The Badgers are sanctioned by the National Interscholastic Cycling Association.

Even if none of the kids go on to become professional mechanics or racers—or employed in any way by the cycling industry—I can’t help but to think that learning the ABCDEs will make them more confident riders. I know it had that effect on me.

By the way, the ABCDEs are:

Air (tires & pressure)

Brakes

Chain

Derailleur 

Everything else.

Tell Us More

 When I wrote for a newspaper, I occasionally covered what my editor called “cops and robbers” stories.

One such tale involved someone who thought he could avail himself to some, shall we say, after-hours discounts.  As in “take one, get one free.”

Absent a store security video (not so unusual in those days), the investigating officers had to rely on eyewitnesses accounts—which, as any criminologist will tell you today, aren’t very reliable.  One such account described the suspect as a “White, possibly light-skinned Black or Hispanic” of “about average” height and build, wearing “jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers.

I looked at one of the officers. He started to laugh. So did I. “How many dudes fit that description?” I wondered.

“Exactly!” he replied.

I though about that when I saw this announcement in the Skagit Valley (WA) Herald:

A Schwinn bicycle with a rear rack? I’ve had a couple of those. But other than bearing the same brand and a rear rack, they had almost nothing else in common. 

Bicycles have been made and sold with the Schwinn name for 130 years, and have included everything from Krates to Heavi Dutis and Phantoms to Paramounts. Oh, and they’ve been made in a vast range of sizes and a wide spectrum of colors.

So, tell us more about that bike you found!

A Record—For Whom?

 According to the latest statistics from New York City’s Development of Transportation, the number of cyclists in my hometown set a record for the fourth straight year.

Some may criticize their methodology:  They counted only the cyclists using the East River crossings, which connect Manhattan with Brooklyn and Queens.  While I wonder what, exactly, can be extrapolated from it, I also understand that those crossings are among the few places where à accurate counts can be made consistently.

Photo by Frank Franklin for the NY Daily News

From my observations, however, such a methodology skews the findings and conclusions drawn.  Cyclists using those East River crossings tend to be commuters—usually, going to Manhattan—and younger than other cyclists.  I think the DOT’s way of counting also misses riders who commute within their own borough or, say, from Queens to Brooklyn, and misses the Bronx entirely.

One interesting finding that squares with my observations is that even after the new bike lane opened on the Brooklyn Bridge, the Williamsburg Bridge is still the preferred East River crossing. It’s easy to see why.  For one thing, many of the young commuting cyclists I’ve mentioned live and/or work in the neighborhoods on either side of the bridge.  Also, at least in my experience, it offers easier access than the other bridges, and the Manhattan entrance is at the end of a protected bike lane along Delancey Street. 

Oh, and if you’re a tourist (or simply not a commuter or regular NYC cyclist), I’ll let you in on a secret:  the Williamsburg offers the best views—including those of the Brooklyn Bridge!

My Future?

 Is this my future?

Four Days: Am I Slipping?

Ernest Hemingway, never one to doubt his talent, nonetheless peeved—sarcastically, of course—that he “must be slipping” because four whole days had gone by without someone anthologizing his short story, “The Snows of Kilimanjaro.”

Like many of you, I first encountered his writing when I was in high school. Since then, I’ve read, I believe, everything he wrote—what was published, anyway. I have gone through “phases” of him:  He’s been my favorite writer, I’ve utterly detested him and everything in between. These days, I appreciate some of his work—including “Kilimanjaro” and “The Sun Also Rises”—and feel “meh” about other stuff, such as “Old Man and the Sea” and most of his posthumously-published writings. Somehow I think that’s a healthy attitude to have about almost any “major” or “important” writer.

(I am convinced that more people lie about having read “Moby Dick” than any other novel and bluff their way through dinner-party discussions by paraphrasing “Old Man.”)

Anyway, I mention that possibly-apocryphal comment from Hemingway because of the “four days.” That’s how long it’s been since I’ve been on one of my bicycles. I haven’t even commuted or run errands, let alone ridden for fun or fitness.

No, I haven’t crashed. (Keeps fingers crossed.) Wednesday evening, I felt unusually tired after pedaling home from work. “Maybe I’m getting old after all,” I thought.

That was one time denial about aging might have done me some good. After entering my apartment, the next thing I remember is waking up Thursday, my head pulsing with pain as I coughed.  Since then, I’ve been ejecting gunk that makes me wonder whether the Environmental Protection Agency will declare my respiratory system a toxic site.

A couple of my neighbors claim that riding my bike is “all” I do. I can understand their perception: They probably haven’t seen me enter or leave the building without my bike. So, after four days without riding, will my reputation as a perpetual cyclist “slip?@

The Real Battle

 Last week I wrote about the passage of Bill 212 in Ontario, Canada.  Among other things, it authorizes that province’s government the authority to order Toronto—its largest city and capital—to remove bike lanes and to block the metropolis from installing a new bike lane if it results in the loss of a traffic or parking lane.

Interestingly, Philadelphia has gone in an almost-opposite direction.  Yesterday Mayor Cherelle Parker signed a bill that prohibits drivers from stopping, standing or parking in bike lanes—and increases fines for those who break the law.

Reactions to both events has been predictable and echoes the ways in which cyclists (and pedestrians) have been pitted against drivers. The debate, fueled at least in part by misconceptions, can also be seen on the editorial pages of the Washington Post.  The first salvo of the latest fight came from Mark Fisher’s article, “The truth about bike lanes:  They’re not about the bikes.” Yesterday the newspaper published reactions from anti-bike lane (and, in some cases, anti-cyclist) motorists. It has announced its intention to devote a page to pro-bike lane arguments.

Among the misconceptions expressed in the editorials, perhaps the most egregious is this:  We are getting our lanes for free.

Some years ago, I found myself arguing about that with a driver whom I cursed out after he cut me off.  I became his emotional punching bag because, at that moment, I was the embodiment of all cyclists, just as any given Black person can become a proxy for an entire race.

I didn’t raise my voice or lose my temper. Instead, when he shouted the “free ride” canard, I pointed out that I paid for that street and its parking spaces just as he had:  Here in New York, as in most places, street and road construction and maintenance is paid from the general pool of taxes. He was not, as he believed, paying for something I wasn’t. In fact, I said, the only tax he pays that I don’t is on gasoline.

He actually calmed down. I probably could’ve mentioned other ways his and other ways his and other motorists’ driving is subsidized—including our foreign policy—but I left him while we were at least civil toward each other.

Some would call it a “win.” In today’s political climate, it would be a step forward. On the other hand, to amend Mr. Fisher’s thesis, the debate about bike lanes isn’t really about the lanes.  I believe it is, rather, a proxy for the culture wars, which in turn are about economics: Will they serve the interests of those who have brought the planet (whether through their financial, political, cultural or ostensibly-religious activities) to its current crisis—and their often-unwitting pawns? Or will we leave those coming after us a world in which they can live, let alone thrive?

A Reward

 Yesterday, I took a bit of a detour during my ride home from work.  I was rewarded with this spectacle from the top of Claremont Park, about five kilometers from my apartment:

It definitely made my day!

What If He Took Your Bike?

 How would you feel if a police officer took your bicycle?

Now, imagine that happening to you as a small child.

A kid in Lone Tree, Colorado had such an experience over the weekend. 

So why did Officer Jacob Tarr take a young one’s wheels?

According to the Department, a felony suspect was trying to flee. He hopped a couple of fences before stealing a motor scooter. Officer Tarr wasn’t anywhere near his squad car and knew he couldn’t catch the suspect on foot. 

So he commandeered a small bike—complete with neon-green high-rise handlebars—and pedaled away. A few minutes later, the suspect was caught. “The suspect might’ve had a scooter, but Officer Tarr had determination, (sic) and a kid’s bike,” according to the Department’s Facebook post.

I have two questions: Did the kid get their (no gender identity was mentioned) bike back? And how did Officer Tarr, or someone else, explain why the bike was taken.  How do you define a “worthy cause” for a child?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=

Not Of The Same Species

 On Tuesday, I expressed the first iota of sympathy I’ve felt in a long time for Lance Armstrong.  After all, I can empathize with anyone who’s had bikes stolen.

But it might be the last time I, or very many other people, express compassion for him. He is not the first, and probably won’t be the last, cheater to ride a bike. However, few, if any have done more to disgrace cycling.

On the other hand, a cheetah on a bike? That would be a first. And it certainly wouldn’t  soil the reputation of the sport as the one whose seven Tour de France victories were vacated.

Is It The Most Unsafe Bike Lane?

 In this blog, I have written about poorly-conceived, designed, constructed and maintained cycle lanes.  There are “bike lanes to nowhere” (which can be sung to a certain Led Zeppelin tune), those that begin seemingly out of nowhere and ones that put cyclists —and pedestrians and wheelchair users—in more danger than they would face among motorized traffic. Oh, and there was one that ran smack into a supporting column for elevated train tracks.

But there is another hazard that, according to some planners and even path users, can’t be designed away:  Lanes that are safe, useful and even scenic by day become alleys of potential terror, especially for those of us who don’t present as male.

Such is the case for a popular 24km (15 mile) ribbon that connects Bristol and Bath in the UK. Because it passes through other fairly-major cities along the way, it’s popular with commuters as well as recreational cyclists—by day.

When darkness falls, however, so does the path’s safety. “It’s like walking down a dark alley on a night out,” said Bristol-based cyclist Rosalie Hoskins.  She and other cyclists have described their experiences, or recounted those of others, who have been jumped or ambushed and had their bikes or e-bikes stolen by masked moped riders. There are also other reports of anti-social behavior, such as drunkenness and drug use, along the lane.

While the B2B, as it’s commonly called, has been declared the “most unsafe” bike lane in Britain, the problems described are hardly unique. Indeed, on various bike lanes here in New York, I have nearly hit, or been hit by, people hanging out in the path, not to mention drivers—especially those of for-hire car services—pulling in and out or double-parking.

And while I haven’t heard as much about crime against cyclists, runners or pedestrians in Central Park as I did during the ‘70’s, ‘80’s and early ‘90’s, I was aware of the possibility when, on Monday, I rode the length of it uptown about an hour after it got dark. As I descended the curves to the exit at 7th Avenue (Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard) in Harlem, I thought about the possibility of someone—or some group—hiding in the bushes, ready to spring on an unsuspecting rider or runner:  a common occurrence in the bad old days. One reason why such attacks may be less common is that many more people pedal, run, jog, walk or simply hang out in the park than in times past.  And while more lighting may or may not improve safety, I think some would oppose it because they believe it would detract from the park’s ambience—which may be a reason why some other path aren’t better-lit or more surveilled.

I concur, however, with Bristol cyclist and PhD student George Rowland when he  says more emphasis should be placed on making roads safer for cyclists.  They already have lighting and open space, and making them more cyclist-friendly and -usable will do more to encourage people to pedal to work, school, shop or have fun than segregating us.

Black Friday And Why I Didn’t Start My Own Shop

 In earlier posts, I mentioned that I worked in bicycle shops, as a mechanic, assembler and salesperson, on and off from the mid-1970s until the mid-1990s.  For about four years, in total, it was my “day job;” the rest of the time, I worked during school breaks or “in between jobs” (translation: when I was otherwise unemployed). 

Although I mostly enjoyed my experiences, they are also the reason why I didn’t open a shop of my own when I had the opportunity.  Oh, most the customer interactions were pleasant:  People are usually in a good mood when they’re buying bikes or accessories and happy when you can fix whatever was ailing them (the bikes, I mean). But the business side of it is another story.

One shop in which I worked had, like most good shops, a mechanic (or, at least someone who understands quality bikes) as a proprietor. His “silent partner,” however, was cut from a different jersey material. He had been a customer at a shop where the head honcho worked and was duly impressed with his skills and ambition. So, he fronted the money the shop’s “owner “ needed to open.

He was a nice enough guy. (Full disclosure: He did a couple of fairly significant favors for me.) But he made most of his money on Wall Street because, as he said, he was “good with numbers” and, as he admitted, “had a bit of luck sometimes.”

For all of his business and actuarial acumen, he simply could not understand why, as  busy as the shop was, the return on his investment was so small. A few years after I last worked in that shop, he “pulled the plug” and the mechanic/proprietor’s dream didn’t last much longer.

I would have been in a similar situation had I taken up an offer of “seed money” to start my own shop. The person who offered it wasn’t even a cyclist, let alone someone who understood the bike business. She simply would not believe that the wholesale price of a $700 bike (which, at that time, was “upper middle class”) was around $500. I didn’t even get to explain to her that a shop would have to pay someone like me to assemble it—and rent, utilities and other expenses that are part of running a business.

I thought about that experience a while back, when I came across this article:  “Why big outsider companies (almost) always fail in the bike business.”

Among other things, automotive, tech and other capital-intensive companies don’t understand dynamics like the one I described, or much else about the bike business. For one thing, it’s composed of much smaller companies and dealers than, say, BMW. Speaking of which, cycling doesn’t have “prestige” brands like the aforementioned automaker or Cadillac—or “crossover “ names like Nike that straddle the line between sports attire and fashion. While some bike companies offer nothing but junk and a few make small numbers of high-end and custom bikes, most offer a range of models at different price points. So when someone tells me, for example, that a friend has a Cannondale or Trek, I ask, “Which model?”

Also, as the article points out, customer’s preferences in one business don’t necessarily translate into bicycles. As an example, people interested in “power” sports or vehicles (like speed boats) aren’t necessarily interested in bikes, or even e-bikes.

So why am I discussing the “weirdness” of the bicycle industry today?  Well, I’ll bring you back to the “silent”’ partner of the shop where I worked and my would-have-been partner, who wouldn’t have been so silent. Those small-to-non-existent profit margins are the reason why you won’t see, comparatively, many bicycles on sale today, Black Friday.  And most of the bikes that are marked down are lower-end models: Paradoxically, the more expensive bikes have smaller margins, percentage-wise.

So, if you are looking for bike-related bargains today, you’re more likely to find them among accessories and apparel. The latter is likely to consist of “leftovers “ (I couldn’t resist a Thanksgiving pun!), as retailers are looking to move this (or last) year’s merchandise to make way for new stuff. So, you might not find the size you need or the colors and designs you prefer.

Happy Thanksgiving

 Happy Thanksgiving!

It’s raining here in New York.  I could go for a ride:  After all, I have bikes with fenders.  Maybe I will.  Or I could go to the Botanical Garden, where the air will be fresh, even sweet.

Later this afternoon, I’m going to have dinner with my new friend and riding buddy, “Sam,” and his girlfriend. I probably will take a ride, however brief, tomorrow. In years past, I’ve avoided cycling on the day after Thanksgiving, a.k.a. Black Friday because drivers lose their minds pulling in and out of parking lots and spaces by the stores and malls running “sales.” But during the past few years, I’ve noticed less motor traffic, as more people are shopping online.

Whatever you do, enjoy this day!

“Rip ‘Em Out”=“Drill, Baby, Drill”?

 Here in New York City, we don’t need anyone to tell us that life isn’t always fair. One reason is that here, in one of the world’s major cities—with a population of around 8.3 million—some decisions that affect our everyday lives are made in Albany, about 250 kilometers (160 miles) up the Hudson River. Though its population of 101,000 is less than a quarter of Staten Island, New York City’s least populous borough, “Smallbany” is the capital of New York State.

Now, one might expect that Toronto, Canada’s largest city, has more self-rule since it also happens to be the capital of Ontario. But the province’s government has just passed Bill 212. This controversial new piece of legislation gives the province sweeping control over Toronto’s bike lanes.  

That means, for one thing, that Toronto and other cities would have to ask the province for permission before installing a bike lane if doing so would involve removing á traffic lane.  Moreover, it gives the province authority to order a city to rip out a bike lane if a traffic lane was removed in the process.  So, for example, Ontario’s government could order Toronto to take our the bike lanes on three major thoroughfares—Bloor and Yonge Streets and University Avenue—though it’s not clear as to whether the province will exercise that power.

Oh, and Bill 212 allows the construction of Highway 413 to begin before consulting indigenous groups or conducting environmental assessment.

Bill 212 sounds like part of a “backlash” against the progressive policies for which Toronto has come to be known.  Somehow I can hear echoes of “Drill, baby, drill!”

No Honor For Cheaters—And Thieves

 Not many people feel sympathy for Lance Armstrong these days. I admit that I am not part of that minority—at least, most of the time.

The news I heard today, however, sparks a twinge of empathy for him.  We now have at least one thing in common, aside from riding bicycles:  we have had our mounts stolen.

Turns out, one Ethan Harris has pleaded* guilty to theft of property between $30,000 and $150,000 and burglary of a building—for stealing some of the disgraced racer’s bikes from a storage unit in Austin.

A

Armstrong and Harris 

Apparently, there is still a market among collectors for anything related to the rider w hose seven Tour de France victories were vacated.

*—Is it “pleaded” or “pled?” I used the former in keeping with the report I read.

Fluid Dynamics

 What’s in those bottles?

Gatorade, perhaps?

What’s A Mother To Do?

 A driver strikes a 7-year-old boy riding a bicycle.

That is all-too-depressingly familiar.

Driver was distracted. Also too familiar. 

The boy is OK now.  I wish that were more familiar.

Driver admitted she was distracted. That is definitely unfamiliar.

She tries to “make it right” by giving the boy a new bicycle. That is new territory for the boy and his mother.

The mother notices the new bike isn’t as good as the one the driver wrecked. The boy, however, is happy because he likes the color of his new bicycle better than that of the old one.

While the mother is relieved that her son is OK, she doesn’t know how to respond to the driver’s gesture.

If you were the mother, what would you do?

JFK Today

 Sixty-one years ago today, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas.

I won’t get into the theories, conspiracy and otherwise, about “whodunnit.” What I will say, however, is that I  contest the notion that his nation “lost its innocence” because I believe that a nation, by definition, cannot be innocent.

That said, I am posting a picture of the great leader because, well, very few people have ever looked better on a bicycle.

After this post, I will return to writing about “pure” bike topics, including my own rides.

Transgender Day of Remembrance—Andrea Doria Dos Passos

 Today I am invoking my “Howard Cosell Rule” because it’s Transgender Day of Remembrance. 

On this date in 1998, Black transgender woman Rita Hester was murdered in the Boston suburb of Allston.  Her death received little attention at the time although—or because—it came just weeks after that of Matthew Shepard, a gay man attacked and left to die on a cold high desert night in Wyoming. 

A year after Ms. Hester’s death, the first Transgender Day of Remembrance was observed in Boston and San Francisco. Subsequent observances—in which I’ve participated—consist of participants reading the name of a transgender or gender-variant person who was murdered because of their gender identity or expression. 

Therefore, I will wrap up today’s post with the name of one such victim: Andrea Doria Dos Passos. 

The 37-year-old transgender woman had been dealing, like too many of us, with housing insecurity for some time.  On the night of 23 April, experiencing homelessness, she was sleeping near the entrance of Miami City Ballet when a man approached and violently beat her to death. 

The next morning, a Ballet employee came upon her body and called the police.  Because of security camera footage, the perpetrator was caught quickly: an unfortunately rare outcome in too many cases.

Mid-Day, Late Season

  Although this Fall has been warmer and drier than any other I can remember, my rides reveal sure signs that winter, whatever it might bring , isn’t far in the future.

Somehow the preternaturally clear sky and blue water at Fort Totten—where the (misnamed) East River meets the Long Island Sound, and the destination of my midday ride—only highlighted the imminent seasonal change.

Then again, some places and trees are holding onto what’s left of the season.

When It Was A Gravel Rider's Dream

Following the trail further, the hardy voyager wandered over 'hills and valleys, dales and fields' through a countryside where trout, mink, otter, and muskrat swam in the brooks and pools; brant, black duck, and yellow-leg splashed in the marshes and fox, rabbit, woodcock, and partridge found covert in the thicket.

The preceding passage isn't an account of my latest ride, though it could have described other rides I've taken.

I have, however, pedaled down the route followed by the author of that passage.  My latest trek along that thoroughfare--one of many--took me past stores, restaurants, condo and co-op buildings and offices.

Also, I rode in the opposite direction from that of the scribe who penned that passage.  Today, it's the only way one can travel for most of the roadway's length.

I am talking about one of the world's most famous urban byways:  Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.

The section Arthur Bartlett Maurice described ran from about 21st to 28th Streets:  about a mile and a half from the Avenue's southern terminus at Washington Square Park.  He was also narrating a northward ("uptown" in New York parlance) trek; since 1966, all of the Avenue, save for a few blocks at its northern end, has allowed only southbound ("downtown") traffic.

Can you believe this was once a sight along Fifth Avenue?

This month marks 200 years since the Avenue--which was mainly a dirt path--opened.  It had been planned thirteen years earlier; its opening ushered an unprecedented building boom that, decades later, would lead to the stretch abutting Central Park to become "Millionaire's Row" and, later, "Museum Mile."

Or this?

Mind you, I don't make a point of cycling Fifth Avenue.  But there are times when it's an efficient and, given that it doesn't have a protected bike lane, relatively safe way to go.   Because the stretch from 110th to 59th marks the Park boundary, most side-streets dead-end into it, so there are few intersections to navigate.  Also, I find that its traffic patterns and flows are fairly predictable, even along the Midtown sector.

Oh, and I always make sure I wave to Patience and Fortitude when I pass the main New Yave to ork Public Library building.  If they could talk.... 

(Thanks to Esther Crain, the author of one of my favorite blogs--Ephemeral New York--for the tribute to Fifth Avenue's bicentennial.)

Á Misanthrope? Maybe, Sort Of.

 I have had many labels attached to me.  Perhaps this is one:

After all, I have lived with more bikes than humans!

Could This Become The Father Of Better Bike Infrastructure?

 Here in New York City, it seems that every other non-cyclist hates the bike lanes. Drivers complain that “their” lanes and parking spaces are being taken from them. 

To be fair, many city streets—even some major ones—are narrow and were crowded even before the bike lanes came in. But, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, studies have found a “build it and they will come” phenomenon in road and other auto-related infrastructure: Creating more space for motorized traffic leads to more motorized traffic. In other words, car-clogged streets that have bike lanes would continue to experience traffic jams even if the bike lanes were given over to cars, trucks, buses and anything else that isn’t human-powered.

Apparently, some folks on Padre Island, off the Texas coast, have heard that message. If they haven’t, perhaps their latest plea to the Island’s Strategic Action Committee (which advises the Corpus Christi City Council) is motivated by two crashes involving cyclists and motorists within a month.

Those good folks (OK, I’m editorializing) are telling the Committee to build safe bicycle lanes and sidewalks. To me, it’s interesting that they’re asking to build something that many New Yorkers want to get rid of. More important, it’s heartening to know that if those lanes and sidewalks are built, they would be part of a larger mobility plan for the island, connecting different communities with buses, golf carts and other non-automotive transportation in addition to bike lanes and sidewalks. If nothing else, I hope that it prevents or defuses at least some of the animosity some drivers direct at cyclists. Oh, I also hope that such a plan might prevent some bad bike lanes—like a few I’ve ridden here in New York—from being built.

Take Your Pick

 Non-bike-related question of the day:

Which is scarier:  Matt Gaetz as Attorney General or Robert F. Kennedy in charge of the Department of Health and Human Services?

50 Kilometers--For Dumplings?

Bagel runs.  Pizza runs.  Taco runs.  Crepe runs.  Beer runs. 

I have made all of those "errands"--usually, at night--on my bicycle.  Some of those trips spanned only a few blocks; others were considerably longer, like the rides I took from Rutgers in New Brunswick, New Jersey to Brooklyn for bagels.  It's not that decent bagels couldn't be had in NB or, more precisely, neighboring Highland Park.  I simply believed that the bagels in Brooklyn--at one place in particular--were the best.

And, of course, those 50 or so kilometers (depending on which route I took) left a bagel (or two) sized hole in my stomach.  

I've probably taken rides of similar length within the bounds of New York City to taste a food that, while available in whichever neighborhood I resided, was better in some ethnic enclave or another:  knishes from Mrs. Stahl's in Brighton Beach, dim sum in Flushing, jerk chicken in Flatbush and, of course, soul food in pre-gentrified Harlem.  Oh, and few things can cap off a winter trek like pho in Sunset Park.

So I fully empathize with four students who made a 50 kilometer late-night run from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng--for soup dumplings. Of course, those young people claimed that they weren't riding only for a midnight snack:  They say they also took in some cultural attractions in Kaifeng, a city that has served as China's capital eight times during a history that stretches as far back as the Athenian Empire.  I believe them simply because I would do the same--while sampling the local cuisine, of course!

That all would have been fine with the local authorities if the ride was limited to those four students, maybe a few more.  But news of the trip went viral on social media. As a result, the quartet would be joined by 100,000 other cyclists, mostly young.

To put that into perspective, the Five Boro Bike Tour, one of the world's largest organized rides, attracted 32,000 riders this year.  Some people complain because they lose "their" lanes and parking spaces when streets are blocked off, but otherwise there is little public or private criticism because the ride is planned well in advance.  Thus, people are prepared for the street closures and police have an easy time patrolling and protecting. (Plus, one assumes, they don't mind the overtime pay.) 

The Dumpling Run, on the other hand, was a spontaneous event. Thus, no one else was prepared for the ensuing traffic jams and other interruptions it caused and local officials were, needless to say, not happy. Nor were bike share administrators:  They had to shut down their networks because most of the riders used share bikes and the networks simply couldn't keep up with the demand.  Also, the ride led to a glut of share bikes in Kaifeng and not enough in Zhengzhou.

Then again, some local papers, like People's Daily, have praised the event.  They cite the "energy" and "spirit" of the ride, not to mention the boost to restaurants and other hospitality businesses.  I can understand:  I've pedaled 50 kilometers, and more, for art, history, culture--and food!

Through Her Eyes

 Could it be that even Marlee couldn't believe what she was seeing last Tuesday night?

The War To End All Wars

 Today is Veterans’ Day here in the US.

I can remember when it was called Armistice Day, after the treaty that ended World War I, a.k.a. “The War to End All Wars.”

I wonder how many soldiers, sailors, marines, airmen/women and other military personnel go into battle hoping that their battle, their war will be the last.  I think that’s what I would hope.  “Hey, let’s not do this shit again, OK?”

And then swords would be beaten into ploughshares—and mortar into bicycle parts.

Ya Gotta Start Somewhere

How was your first ride?

A Ride The Day After The Day After

 The other morning I took a ride to Fort Totten before work. Those 45 miles (72.5 kilometers) of pedaling—into the wind for most of the way out—were just what I needed to help me with my post-election trauma. It might be a reason why the class I taught was easier than the two I taught the day before, the day after the election.

I am happy to report that some things haven’t changed

yet.  I hope that someone doesn’t discover petrol under Long Island Sound or anywhere in this area.  I don’t want to see El Cheeto Grande’s campaign donors “drill, baby, drill.”

The Aftermath , So Far

 Orange Crush (i.e., the election) left me crushed. People who know me could see it; some of them, I am sure, felt the same way.  One of our building’s managers, however, said, “It’s gonna be OK.” I wonder whether he believes it.

Since Tuesday night’s testament to treachery, I have taught three classes: one last night and two on Wednesday.  I barely heard a peep from the first group. Were they merely stunned, or did they feel resigned. Since most of them are of traditional college age (18-19 years old), I hope it’s not the latter.

The second class is smaller: 7 students. As you can imagine, it’s easier to get everyone to participate. At least, on a normal day it is. But the other day, they seemed as stunned or mentally weary as my first class, save for one student. He, who emigrated as a teenager with his family, became a citizen through US Military service. Interestingly, when we discussed The Trial and Death of Socrates, he was as zealous as anyone I’ve met in his defense, if you will, of the peripatetic philosopher: “He thought for himself. He questioned authority. That’s what we must do.” Thus, I am not surprised that he lambasted Trump as he did; what surprises me is that anyone who wears, or has worn, the uniform could support a career criminal who called the permanent residents of the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery “losers” and “suckers” after skipping out on a D-Day commemoration .

Last night class, on the other hand, was lively, even feisty. Most of those students come in to class from work, and all of them were upset that Trump won the election. One student mentioned Project 2025 which calls for, among other things, dismantling the Department of Education. Others mentioned their fears about health care, immigration and women’s and LGBT rights. Most interesting or all though, was the participation of one student whom I hadn’t heard before. “This whole country will be like Texas!” she lamented.

That wasn’t an idle statement: She was born and raised in the Lone Star State, “near Dallas.” She has spent time in other parts of the state: Houston, El Paso, Lubbock, San Antonio. The latter is home to The Alamo. “It’s all they talk about,” she said, “as if there’s no other history.”

I interjected that I was taught it was a “battle for freedom:” Texans wanted to liberate themselves from the yoke of Mexican oppression and become part of the Land of Liberty. “That’s what we were taught”—about half a century after I was so indoctrinated—“but we were also taught that it was part of Manifest Destiny, which was part of God’s plan.”

“They actually told you that God wanted the US to take Texas?” She nodded. Never was it mentioned, she explained, that Texans were fighting to keep slavery, which Mexico abolished four decades before the United States.

“We have to do away with American exceptionalism,” she intoned.”

People like her are the reasons for whatever hope we may have. She has obviously taken the time to learn what she wasn’t taught and questions authority and received wisdom. I can only hope that people like her aren’t brought before kangaroo courts on trumped-up (no pun intended) charges and don’t have to suffer his fate.