The Race

 And the winner is….

Not The Way To Deal With A Flat Tire

 

In Ladri di Biciclette—known in the English-speaking world as “Bicycle Thieves” or “The Bicycle Thief”—protagonist Antonio Ricci’s bicycle, which he needs in order to do his job, is stolen.  After a futile search, he sees an unattended bicycle and jumps on it. 

Of course, there is even more to the story. But if there is a “point,” it may be that conventional morality breaks down when people are desperate, as Antonio and so many other people were in war-ravaged Rome. That is a reason why I and many other viewers have felt some sympathy for him that we wouldn’t feel for other bike thieves.

Then again, most bike thieves don’t have a motive nearly as laudable, or at least socially acceptable, as that of Antonio, who is simply trying to feed his family. Most thieves’ goal is to sell the bike or its parts, locally or abroad, whether for themselves or a ring or gang in which they work.

Then there is the fellow in New Zealand who saw an unlocked bike in front of a supermarket and took off on it.

Why?  Because his own bike got a flat tire.

Matthew Gallatly has since pleaded guilty and been sentenced to community service and to pay for the insurance excess. The judge lauded him for owning up to his misdeed but said there is “no excuse” for it.

Her Spirit Lives On—In South Africa

 Susan B. Anthony once said that the bicycle did more to liberate women than anything else she could think of.

I have previously mentioned her comment in my posts.  It articulates something I’ve known for a long time:  Bicycles are vehicles (pardon the pun) of social justice, often in the form of economic mobility.

In Ms. Anthony’s time, bicycles were the first forms of transportation that women could use independently. That is the very reason why some societies and countries have discouraged, or even banned, women and girls from cycling.

In some countries, like Saudi Arabia, that discouragement was passive, if you will, on the government’s part:  Women and girls weren’t allowed in public spaces without a male relative. Saudi Arabia and other countries under Sharia law have families and communities that are even more patriarchal than most Westerners can imagine. So while the government didn’t officially ban women and girls from cycling (or driving or doing so many other things), it essentially used families and communities to enforce second-class citizenship for females.

Another way in which girls and women are kept from riding is economic. Even in countries that aren’t ruled by a rigid religious patriarchy, women and girls in poor families and communities lose out: Meager resources often go to men and boys first.  Girls and women get whatever, if anything, is left over. So, if there is enough money for one bicycle, the father or son will get it, or first access to it.

Such a situation keeps women from finding jobs outside the home that pay better than whatever they can do at home. It also prevents girls from going to school.

Sindile Mavundla teaches girls how to ride.  Photo by Esa Alexander for Reuters.

Sindile Mavundla has firsthand knowledge of what I have just described. The 34-year-old is Cape Town’s “bicycle mayor.” As someone charged with promoting bicycle culture in his South African city, he is not only working to improve bicycle infrastructure or conduct safety classes. He teaches girls and other first-time riders, many from impoverished communities, how to ride at his Khaltsha Cycling Academy.

Some of his pupils had to walk several kilometers to school—or work. Teaching them how to ride, and helping them acquire a bike, needless to say, improves their prospects in neighborhoods where there are few. But it has an added benefit: “Many of the girls,” he explained , “are not given much sports options.”  The bicycle, he said, “has the potential for changing lives” through improved physical fitness and self-esteem as well as the intellectual independence and economic mobility provided by greater access to schools and jobs.

More than a century on, and half a world away, Sindile Mavundla echoes and reflects Susan B. Anthony’s words and work in his capacity as Cape Town’s “Bicycle Mayor.”

Why Are Bike Lanes Seen As Conduits Of Gentrification?

When the bike lane came to Crescent Street, people didn't wonder whether they'd be priced out of the neighborhood.  It didn't price me out:  My rent was the same on the day I moved as it was three and a half years earlier, when the bike lane opened.  I moved mainly because a senior apartment (don't tell anybody!) became available.

But others see those green strips of asphalt with white borders (or, in some cases, bollards or other separators) as conduits of class warfare.  While they might own their homes, they worry about the face and faces of their communities changing.  

Such anxieties are felt and expressed (sometimes overtly) mainly in older white working-class enclaves and communities of color.  From Hasidic Jews and other religious conservatives who don't want "scantily clad" cyclists (and "sexy-ass hipster girls") rolling past their abodes to working parents who ferry themselves to work and their kids to school in cars and minivans and complain they "can't park" and they're "always stuck in traffic" to poor Blacks and Hispanics who feel abandoned by their cities and country, people in communities where few adults ride bikes for recreation (and certainly aren't riding the latest carbon-fiber technowonder) see cyclists--especially cycling activists and advocates--as younger, whiter, richer or more libertine than themselves.  Oh, and many of us are childless or have only one child, in contrast to the large families many poor, religious and other people support.

So in a way, I can understand why some people sigh "There goes my neighborhood!" when a bike lane comes to their doorstep. To put it in pedantic, schoolmarmish terms, they are equating correlation with causation.  That is also understandable:  When people don't know the underlying reasons for a phenomenon, they tend to link any two events they see simultaneously.  And it's true that in my hometown of New York, you are more likely to ride in a bike lane if you're on the Upper East Side of Manhattan than if you're living and riding in the decidedly non-gentrified, non-hipster Brooklyn neighborhood of East New York.  

In my observation, if there is any cause-and-effect relationship between bike lanes and gentrification, it's actually the reverse of what many people believe:  If anything, gentrification leads to the building of bike lanes in one neighborhood.  Those paths are usually constructed along long corridors that lead from one neighborhood into another. So a lane like the one along Kent Avenue in Brooklyn began in the gentrified/hipster areas of Greenpoint and North Williamsburg and was extended down to the ungentrified areas of South Williamsburg, where most residents are members of large Hasidic families.  And another Brooklyn bike lane, along Fourth Avenue, extends from the mostly White and Middle Eastern enclaves of Bay Ridge through the mainly immigrant Chinese and Mexican communities in Sunset Park and, from there, into working-class neighborhoods near Greenwood Cemetery and on to uber-gentrified Park Slope.

If anything, such lanes should be equalizers:  People from poor as well as affluent communities can use them to bike (or ride their scooters) to work, school, shop or just for fun. I think, perhaps, more people would see them that way if more bike activists and advocates looked and talked (ahem) less like me!

Our Mistakes Migrating North?

 In one way, hostility drivers direct at cyclists is like racism, sexism and homo- and transphobia: It’s based on stereotypes and other misconceptions.

One of the stereotypes about cyclists is that we’re Lycra-clad antisocial scofflaws (or “sexy-ass hipster girls”). I stopped wearing Lycra years ago and I obey the law to the degree that I can without endangering myself or anyone else.

As for misconceptions:  One that drivers have shouted at me when they cut me off is that cyclists and bike lanes are the reason why drivers spend so much time sitting in traffic.

I can understand why they, however misguidedly, link bike lanes with traffic jams. On Crescent Street, where I lived until a few months ago, a bike lane was installed a few years ago. From day one, I thought it was a terrible idea because Crescent, a southbound thoroughfare with two traffic and parking lanes, was the only direct connection between the RFK Memorial Bridge/Grand Central Parkway and the Queensborough (59th Street) Bridge/Long Island Expressway. For that reason, it has always had more traffic than the other north-south streets (except 21st) in Astoria and Long Island City. The situation was exacerbated by Mount Sinai-Queens hospital on Crescent and 30th Avenue, two blocks from where I lived.

So as poor a decision as it was to turn a Crescent traffic lane into a bike route, it was not the cause of traffic tie-ups or drivers’ inability to find parking: Vehicular logjams and the paucity of parking spaces plagued the street long before the bike lane arrived.

Unfortunately, similar mistakes in bike infrastructure planning have been made, and motorists’ misconceptions and frustrations have resulted, all over New York and other US cities. They have led grandstanding politicians and candidates to pledge that no more bike lanes will be built and existing ones will be “ripped out.”

Even more worrisome, at least to me, is that lawmakers in a place that seems to have more enlightened policies than ours are talking about such knee-jerk “solutions” to traffic “problems.” In the Canadian province of Ontario, the government is considering legislation that would prohibit the installation of bike lanes if motor vehicle lanes have to be removed.

Bike lane on Eglinton Avenue. Toronto. Photo by Paul Smith for CBC.

The “reasoning” behind it is the population—and traffic—growth around cities like Toronto, Ottawa and Hamilton which has led to longer commute times.

What such policy makers fail to realize is that growth, especially in the suburbs, is largely a result of building roads that provide direct access to cities’ business districts, or between suburban locations.  Research has shown this pattern to repeat itself in metropolitan areas all over the world:  One planner describes it as a “build it and they will come” phenomenon.

Moreover, the legislation Ontario lawmakers are proposing posits a false choice between motor vehicle and bike lanes and pits cyclists against motorists. It’s difficult to see how inciting such a conflict will make commuting—or cycling or driving for any other kind of transportation or recreation—safer or more efficient.

I hope that Ontario’s legislature will stop and listen to research and evidence rather than loud, angry voices. My hope is not unfounded: our neighbors to the north seem to do such things more often and earlier, whether it comes to transportation, marriage equality or any number of other issues.

The Color of the Season

 Autumn began yesterday morning.

It’s not easy being green, in any season!

Bee-cicleta

 Bees do so much for us.

We should make their lives easier—and let them have some fun!

Winning By Two Weeks

Minutes or seconds.

Kilometers or meters. Miles or feet.

Those are the margins by which world records are broken in cycling. Seconds or minutes could separate a current from a former record holder on a particular course or distance. Meters, feet, kilometers or miles demarcate the difference between a new and an old record for distance pedaled over an hour or some other fixed amount of time.

But two weeks? 

Well, Lael Wilcox beat a world record by that much.

To be clear, she wasn’t in a UCI-sanctioned race. I reckon, however, that her speed and endurance could match, or better, that of any rider on the World Cup circuit. Over the past three and a half months, she’s put in more miles or kilometers than most racers ride in a year—and, on an average day, she covered more ground than cyclists on a stage of a multi-day extravaganza like the Tour, Giro or Vuelta.

So, on what kind of ride did she best her nearest rival by two weeks? 

It’s one that she took—or took her, depending on your point of view—around the world. Beginning and ending in Chicago, she covered 18,125 miles (29169 kilometers) over four continents in 108 days, 12 hours and 12 minutes.

The previous women’s record holder, Jenny Graham of Scotland, did her 2018 world tour in 124 days and 11 hours.

Her grand tour ended on 11 September. How did she celebrate? By taking a ride with her wife, photojournalist Rue Kaladyte, who took this photo when Wilcox arrived in Chicago:

Struck—Not By A Car Or SUV—While Cycling To School

People's concerns about cycling safety most commonly are centered around motor vehicles: We all hope that two tons of metal approaching is from behind isn’t steered by someone who’s intoxicated, enraged or simply careless.

The next-most common safety concerns probably are about road or bike lane hazards like potholes, sewer drains with grates that run parallel to the curb or lanes that send us directly into the path of right-turning vehicles.

Depending on where we ride, we may also need to take weather or other natural elements into account. For example, in mountainous areas, I’ve ridden directly from sunshine and summery heat into snow and sleet, and  vice versa.  

And while lightning can flash just about anywhere in the world, Florida seems to be a particular target for those bolts of electricity. But even in the so-called Sunshine State, I don’t think that most cyclists think about their rides—and their days of riding—coming to an end because they were struck by lightning while riding.

That, apparently is what happened to an eleventh-grader in Pembroke Pines, just north of Miami.  He was rushed to a hospital where he was pronounced dead, and there’s a hole where his body was recovered. A home security video picked up the apparent strike, and a resident of the home where the camera was positioned said that she heard the loudest “boom” she’d ever heard right about the time that video captured the unfortunate encounter.

I’ll bet that she didn’t envision, any more than the poor young man did, being struck by lightning while cycling home from school. And I’ll bet that if she thought about cycling safely before that incident, she probably thought more about vehicles crashing into cyclists—which kills more cyclists in Florida than in any other US state.

A Dying Breed?

 

Curtis Phillip, one of New York’s last remaining bike messengers. Photo by Kay Bonrempo.

In 1983-84 I worked for two small businesses in the same industry. Both are long gone. That, on its face, is not remarkable: Few small businesses, in any industry, last four decades.

I have noticed, however, that none of the other companies that were part of that industry when I was working in it are still in business. In fact, industry itself barely exists and what remains of it is very different.

I am talking about the bicycle courier business. Not so long ago, one would see legions of cyclists, most of them young men, large rectangular bags slung across their bodies. pedaling fixed-gear bikes in slaloms through throngs of buses, taxicabs, vans and pedestrians.

I was one of those couriers, and I saw hundreds of them every day. Now I rarely see even one, even in the Wall Street and Midtown areas of Manhattan.

Apparently, bike messengers like the ones I’ve described are a dying breed, not only in New York, but also in Washington DC and other major cities. Their disappearance has been hastened by the pandemic: Many professionals and businesses still haven’t returned to their traditional downtown office spaces.

But the decline of the bike courier business and bike messenger culture has been unfolding for decades: more or less since I made my last delivery four decades ago. While the world-wide web hadn’t come into existence, there were networks that linked computers within certain geographical areas and industries. And fax machines were already in fairly wide use.  Documents that didn’t require physical signatures could therefore be sent remotely. 

For a decade or so after I left the business, the number of messengers didn’t seem to decline much, if at all. They were, however, getting less work and their pay—whether by the hour as or per delivery—stagnated or declined. From what I’ve heard and read, messengers today make less in actual—not adjusted—dollars than I made 40 years ago.

Another blow to the world of messengering I knew was, if not a direct result of, then at least accelerated by, the pandemic: food delivery apps. When people used them, they discovered that they could get their sushi brought to them for less than it cost to deliver a sales report. They lost what little reason and inclination they might have had to use a messenger service like the ones for which I worked.

Some bike messengers became “hybrids”: They combined food delivery with ferrying documents and small packages to offices. Those couriers, however, found that delivering food ordered on Door Dash or Grub Hub was taking more of their work day. Some quit because orders placed  on apps paid less than their old messenger companies; others didn’t or couldn’t (or didn’t want to) become part of the new wave of delivery workers who ride eBikes or mopeds.

Paying Attention to Cyclists in the City of Brotherly Love

Two months ago, Barbara Friedes was riding her bike on Philadelphia’s Spruce Street bike lane. An alleged drunk driver swerved into the lane and hit her from behind.

The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia was left with one fewer doctor than it had before the crash.

To its credit, the local affiliate of CBS News has been following bicycle safety in the City of Brotherly Love. The station’s investigation has not only followed crashes caused by drunk, careless or entitled drivers. It has also pursued such issues as city-issued permits—which the investigators called “questionable”—allowing churches to park in bike lanes on Sundays.

(That reminds me of something that might be touchy in this time of the Israel-Gaza conflict: The ultra-orthodox Jewish communities in my hometown of New York have a history of opposing nearly all bike-favorable policies and infrastructure on the grounds of “religious freedom.”)

Turns out, Philadelphia City Council President Kenyatta Johnson has also been paying attention. He has introduced a bill nicknamed the “Get Out of the Bike Lane” legislation. If passed, it would increase fines from $75 to $125 for parking or stopping in bike lanes in Center City or University City. Fines for similar infractions in other parts of the city would increase from $50 to $75.

Equal Rides, Unequal Fares

 $2.90

$4.79

Those two prices say much about the state of mass transit in New York City, my hometown.

The former is what you pay for a single ride on a city bus or subway.  The latter is what half an hour on a Citibike costs.

I would reckon that a typical subway ride—say, a commute from Astoria or Williamsburg to Midtown or Downtown Manhattan—takes about half an hour to 45 minutes. The disparity between the transit fare and a Citibike rental becomes even more pronounced, however, when you realize that if your bus gets caught in traffic or you decide to take a longer excursion on the subway, it won’t cost more. On the other hand, each additional minute beyond that $4.79 half-hour on a Citibike will set  you back 36 cents.

Photo by Joe Buglewicz

A bill introduced in the City Council last week would keep Lyft, the company that operates Citibike, from charging more than the cost of a transit fare for a two-hour bicycle ride or an hour on an e-bike. “Bike share is an essential part of the New York City transit landscape,” said Lincoln Restler, a Brooklyn council member and the bill’s sponsor.”We need to make it accessible and affordable to all.”

Restler has been one of the Council’s strongest advocates for cycling.  His remarks reflect a philosophy that includes cycling as a vital part of this city’s transportation system. It seems that his bill has at least a chance of passing, given that Mayor Eric Adams has said he would be “open” to considering more Citibike subsidies for low-income New Yorkers.  The chief stumbling block is that what the bill proposes couldn’t take effect until 2029, when Lyft’s current contract with the city ends.

An Un-Bearable Policy?

As I understand, bicycles and eBikes are allowed in certain areas of US National Parks.

I hope this rider isn’t violating the policy! 

Going After The “Fat” Of The Netherlands

A Dutch woman once explained her country’s liberal social environment to me. It was the first to legalize same-sex marriage, she said, for the same reason it legalized marijuana and sex work.  “We like order,” she told me.  “It’s part of our Calvinistic heritage.” Although she, like many of her compatriots, are no longer religious, the theologian’s way of thinking “still guides us.”

That reasoning seemed counterintuitive until she offered this:  “If people are being who they are aren’t hurting anyone else, why should they be made into criminals?” and therefore “outsiders.”  To maintain order, “include everyone.”

That desire for orderliness took a turn someone like me would expect—and wish for—in Rotterdam.  In one of the world’s busiest ports, authorities seized a shipment of 16,500 electric “fat bikes” from China. Another 1000 were taken from a nearby distribution warehouse.

As the name implies, such machines have wide tires and low-slung frames that cause them to resemble low-slung motorcycles.

European Union regulations limit eBikes to speeds of 25 mph (16mph). The “fatbikes,” however, have software and other components that can be easily manipulated to make them go much faster.

Apparently, nobody anticipated the arrival of those bikes. And, when the Netherlands mandated helmets for motor-scooter riders, many—especially teenagers—switched to “fatbikes,” for which there is no helmet requirement.

So now Dutch and European authorities are not only looking at headgear policies, but also to more clearly define different categories of two-wheeled vehicles. Would that authorities in my hometown of New York (and my home country of the United States) gain some of that Calvinistic penchant for making and maintaining order.

Will The CCC Be KO’d?

 The Community Cycling Center turned 30 years old in July. It helped to make Portland, Oregon synonymous, not only with cycling, but with non-profit cycling advocacy.

It may not, however, make it to 31. The organization is in a severe financial crisis that may be a reason why it has had six executive directors in the past five years. Its directors say the CCC can survive only if it receives $115,000 in donations during the next three weeks.

So how can such an organization, with its well-re bike shop, be in such dire straits—in Portland?

According to the CCC, its troubles began during the COVID-19 pandemic. While demand for bikes, parts and services surged, lockdowns ruptured supply chains, making parts and accessories difficult, if not impossible, to find. At the same time, donations to nonprofit organizations like CCC dropped, in part because people were out of work.

But a document provides other reasons that would elicit “I told you so”s from the editors of the Wall Street Journal. One is a “top heavy”  organizational structure. According to the doc, there are too many leadership positions that could be filled with lower-paid workers.  Another reason cited is employees who are kept year-round and provided with benefits and yearly cost-of-living increases.

Now, if you have been reading my blog for a while, you have probably guessed-correctly—that I am all for shop employees, or any other workers, making a living wage and not having to worry about financial ruin if they’re sick or hurt. That it’s cites as a cause of CCC’s crisis points to an inherent dilemma in the bike industry: In most places, it’s seasonal and for all but the mega-retailers, most of whom are now online, profit margins are small and overhead costs are high, hence the low wages paid to mechanics and other employees. The lack of pay (and, in most shops, benefits) is probably why the retail bike industry isn’t seen as a career option to anyone who doesn’t own the business.

I am not familiar with CCC’s administration. I suspect, however, that one reason why it has “too many” full-time leadership positions is that, like other community-centered nonprofits , it’s trying to promote opportunities for people who might not otherwise have them. I would hate to see any organization give up on such a worthy endeavor, but I imagine that it’s not easy to sustain.

Sometimes They’re Righr

 A letter to the Baltimore Banner’s editor illustrated, for me, a problem in the planning and public perception of bicycle infrastructure.

I am not familiar with Baltimore. From reading Dr. Mark Braun’s letter, however, I get the impression that the city’s bike lanes are as sporadic and episodic as they are in other American locales.

Dr. Braun, who describes himself as a new resident and avid cyclist, says that he cannot understand why residents object to one proposed bike lane, but completely understands why they object to another. 

Photo by Daniel Zawodny

About the latter, he says two roads that would connect parts of other bike trails are “overbuilt” and would be “incredibly unsafe for children or inexperienced riders. He says the former is a much better choice, as it is a four-lane road where traffic is light but fast, which encourages drivers to speed. A bike lane along that road, he argues, would result in “decreased vehicle speeds” and provide “direct access” to two parks.

In other words, he is saying that on the road where a proposed lane has raised objections he can’t understand, the lane would actually make the road safer for traffic as well as cyclists. And, he understands the objections to the other proposed route for essentially the same reason.

Such considerations never seem to factor into decisions about where and how to build bike lanes in American cities. That, I believe is one factor that causes planners to create bad bike lanes and for non-cyclists to object to good lanes for the wrong reasons.

Silly Goose!

 While riding down the Hudson River Greenway, “Sam” and I had to dodge a flock of geese that strolled into the path.

I say that if you’re going to take up space in a bike lane you should, at least, be on a bike!

A “Guerilla” Bike Share

If you’ve ridden a bike from a share network like Citibike in my hometown of New York, you probably retrieved the bike from a dock by clicking an app or QR code. At least, that’s what I’ve done the few times I’ve ridden such a bike.

The earliest official share programs—like the one started in La Rochelle, France half a century ago (and still running to this day) could not, of course, have operated in such a way because we didn’t have portable phones, “smart” or otherwise, and the technological networks didn’t exist. So, I imagine, operating the share system must have been more labor intensive, and its bikes more difficult to keep track of, than its current iteration.

In my previous paragraph, I wrote that La Rochelle can lay claim to the first “official” bike share program. That is to say, it was the first to be organized and sanctioned by a city or other government. The idea of bikes publicly available to anyone who wants to ride them predates La Rochelle’s program by a decade or so:  During the mid-1960s, anarchists took abandoned bicycles, painted them white and left the Witte Fietsen on the streets of Amsterdam for anyone who wanted to ride them.

It seems that the spirit of that “Dutch treat,” if you will, has been revived in Montclair, New Jersey, only 33 kilometers (21 miles) or so from my apartment.

“Andy,” who would not give his full name, found a few bikes that were being thrown away.  He took them home, repaired them and collected more bikes. He soon had a full garage. 

One day, as he relates, he was talking to a co-worker who said getting to the bus he takes to work was ‘challenging.” “Andy”offered him one of the bikes, explaining that he could lock the bike up before he boarded the bus and hop back on it after returning.

A “Guerilla” bike in front of the Montclair Public Library.

So was the Montclair Guerilla Bike Share program born. It takes bikes from the trash, clean-outs and donors, makes them rideable and leaves them in public spaces where people can unlock them with QR codes or by visiting the website. After riding it, you can lock it in a public place for someone else to unlock it.

“Andy” says he’s improved the stickers and other markings to make them easier to find. He’s also installed trackers on them, which helps to ensure that they’re not stolen and makes it easier to check on their conditions.

I am sure he knows about Citibike and other institutionalized bike-share programs. But I wonder whether he knew anything about the anarchists in Amsterdam who were leaving bikes on that city’s streets a decade before he was born.

First Times, Again

 I’ve never been here before—on a bike.

So exclaimed “Sam,” my new neighbor and riding buddy when we stopped at City Island during our first ride together. I heard it a few more times the other day, after we pedaled the length of Manhattan on the Hudson River bike lane and looped past the Staten Island Ferry terminal and South Street Seaport to the Williamsburg Bridge.

“I’ve never crossed this on bike!”

He also rode “Hipster Hook”—the waterfront of Williamsburg and Greenpoint for the first time. In fact, our ride was his first into Brooklyn and Queens.

He apologizes for riding a pace slower than mind. I don’t mind, I assure him. He, who has asthma, is riding, and that is good. So what if we need to stop so he can use his inhaler? 

More than anything, I enjoy his company: Let’s say that he’s lived a life vastly different from mine and therefore sees things in a way I never could. Plus, I love seeing him experience those “firsts” on a bike. 

I suspect that if we do some of the same rides again, that sense of discovery won’t disappear: He will change as a rider as, I believe, we all do. Besides, I can take a ride I’ve done dozens, or even hundreds, of times and experience something new or anew, whether in my surroundings or my body, or the bike itself—whether I’m by myself or pedaling with a new riding buddy.

Even In A Cyclist's Paradise, Not All Is Heavenly

The Netherlands is often seen as a cyclists' paradise.  Indeed, the country's ratio of bicycles to people is roughly the same as, ahem, of that of guns to people in the United States. (That is to say, humans are outnumbered.) And comprehensive networks of bike lanes that you can actually use to get from home to school or work, or to go shopping or simply on a "fun" ride, crisscross many Dutch cities and towns.  Moreover, bicycle "infrastructure" includes facilities like parking garages that drivers take for granted.

However, even in such a velocipedic utopia, not all places are "bike friendly," according to Mark Wagenbuur, the "Bicycle Dutch" blog author.  Recently, he was asked to speak in Wageningen, a small city with a university renowned for its work in agricultural technology and engineering.  As he had never before been in the city, he spent some time pedaling in it before offering his perspective on its cycling conditions.

There, he reports, he found "a mishmash of various types of infrastructure that have developed over time." Not only did he find paths with different kinds of surfaces that weren't connected, he also found bike lanes where they "didn't need to be," like the one alongside a residential street with a 30 kph (19 mph) speed limit.  To be fair, he points out, the street was once a major road, so the bike lane may have made more sense.  But, as with any kind of infrastructure, it needs to be updated. 

Also, he found "car parking lots galore" in a city that is "warmly welcoming car drivers" and noticed that, like other cities that aren't particularly welcoming to cyclists, it's also difficult to reach and navigate via mass transit. (Though there is a bus terminal, the nearest rail station is 8 km--about 5 miles--from the center of the city.) Furthermore, the pedestrian route from the bus station to the center of town includes crossing a busy Provincial Road with no crosswalk or traffic lights. From there, pedestrians traverse a dark underpass and a car parking lot.

Americans (and people in some other countries) might dismiss Wagenbuur as "spoiled." After all, he is comparing conditions in Wageningen to those of his home city and others in the Netherlands.  But he has made a valid point:  Wageningen can, and should do better, even if its cycling conditions are better than those of most locales in the United States.

When It Was About Labor

 For many Americans, today—Labor Day—is the end of summer. Some are enjoying their last picnics, barbecues, trip to the beach or other warm-weather outdoor activities of the season. Still others are taking advantage of “sales”* in department stores and online venues.

But this day wasn’t always a day of rest, relaxation or revelry. The first Labor Day was observed in New York City on 5 September 1882–interestingly, the day after Thomas Edison flipped the switch that turned on New York City’s first electric street lights—and the “Times” sign in what would become the eponymous square (known, at that time, as Longacre).

The earliest Labor Days, in contrast to more recent ones, were serious, sometimes solemn and even feisty occasions. They highlighted the terrible conditions under which many laborers—who included women and immigrants—worked. 

Factory and business owners, understandably, used the technological advances of the Industrial Revolution to increase productivity—and profits. The more avaricious entrepreneurs also found opportunities to exploit workers. There was no minimum wage or overtime pay. Worse, there were no laws mandating safety or other standards in workplaces, and little if any recourse for injured or crippled workers.

The early Labor Days, therefore, were more likely to include rallies, protests and parades, like this one:

Unemployed workers, many of whom lost their jobs in the wake of the previous year’s stock market panic, descended on Washington for Labor Day 1894.

*—Too often, holiday sales are scams:  Prices are jacked up before the holidays and the discounts simply bring prices back to, or near, earlier levels.

It Takes All Kinds

 Five months ago, I moved into a senior apartment complex. (But I’m still in midlife, dammit! I don’t have a complex!😉) 

Some neighbors don’t know my name, but they know I’m “the lady who rides a bike.” A few know about the 105 mile ride I took last week. One thing they don’t know, however, is that it’s not the first “century” I’ve ever done.

Some of my neighbors use walkers or wheelchairs. So I guess it’s not surprising that they look at me with awe or envy, as if I’m an Olympic athlete.  I am sure that others, however, see me this way: