As You’ve Never Seen Me Before

 Here I am, on my Halloween ride:

Will It Lift The Bike Business? Or Will REI Fall Into A Canyon?

For as long as I can remember, someone has predicted the demise of the local bike shop.  The first "threat" came from mail-order giants like Bike Warehouse/Bike Nashbar, Bikecology/Supergo and Performance.  They offered high-end frames and components at lower prices (including shipping) than your neighborhood dealer--if indeed it carried those items or could order them.  

Later, the death-knell for The Village Spokesperson or its equivalent was supposed to have been sounded by Internet retailers--some of which, of course, were the online incarnations of mail-order firms.  Often, their prices were even lower, and their selections greater, than those of mail-order or brick-and-mortar businesses because they didn't need the warehouse space of mail-order companies and, well, because of sheer volume: A human doesn't have to be present when you press "click" to order that helmet or GPS device or when it's dispatched.

Indeed, some shops closed their doors when mail-order companies became known even to once-a-month, seven-months-out-of-the-year, cyclists. (Older mail-order concerns like Cyclo-pedia had much smaller, though very loyal, markets.) And others ended their runs when they couldn't keep up with Internet retailers, or when the COVID-19 Bike Boom went bust.  

But there were a few factors that kept other bike shops in business and encouraged the establishment of new ones.  One is what a remote shopping experience, whether via the US Postal Service or World Wide Web, could not offer:  personal service. While most mail and online retailers offered fit charts and guides for bikes, helmets, shoes and other items, they could not replicate the experience of trying them on in the store.  A related factor is the relationships cyclists build with trusted bike professionals:  For example, the folks at Bicycle Habitat understand my riding style and preferences, and how  they have changed.  Also, they and other shops I have frequented have offered me discounts as a repeat customer, so I find that I save little, if any, money when I shop from a screen. 

And let's face it, people like me simply feel more comfortable going to proprietors, mechanics and other shop personnel we've known for years or even decades. 

That last factor explains why some analysts and casual observers are again sounding alarms over "the death of bike shops."  The cycle brand Canyon has announced a partnership with REI Co-op.

Now, that doesn't mean you'll find Canyon bikes or accessories, or even a demo fleet, on your local REI showroom.  Rather, those stores will only handle warranty claims and do repairs--at a 20 percent discount for REI members-- on Canyon bikes.  In other words, REI is taking on two vital parts of a relationship between a bike buyer and shop.  I rarely have to go to a shop for repairs (only when I don't have the tool and can't justify buying it or, as when I bought Dee-Lilah, my custom Mercian Vincitore, I wanted an assembly job from someone who loves and appreciates Mercians), but it's good to know that I can get advice and answers from someone with expertise and that, should I have a warranty issue, someone can handle it for me. 

I think those are particularly important issues for customers and riders of Canyon, a direct-to-consumer brand. Few, if any, did a pre-order ride or fit, so I am sure that some ordered the wrong size or type of bike for themselves or someone else.  I would likewise assume that many Canyon customers have done little, if any, bike repair work and thus didn't assemble some or all of the bike properly.

Moreover, at least a few Canyon riders, like other cyclists, are also hikers, campers, skiers or participants in other outdoor sports.   Thus, they would feel comfortable going to REI:  Indeed, they may already be customers or even members.  On the other hand, they may be new to cycling and thus feel intimidated by bike shops, especially the ones that cater to dedicated cyclists.

All of that said, I don't think Canyon's partnership with REI will mean the end of bike shops as we know them.  But it could change the ways in which at least some cyclists get service, even if it begs the question of whether REI would hire or train mechanics--or press salespeople into fixing bikes.   

The Light Of The Season, Lighting My Ride

In temperate parts of the Northern Hemisphere, October paints its light with strokes from deepening, drying leaves of red, yellow, orange and brown.

But those hues also reflect the light of other seasons I remember during autumn rides. 

We're Giving You A Reason That Conflicts With The One We Gave You

When I lived in Manhattan, I often cycled across the George Washington Bridge:  I could set out for Bear Mountain around sunrise on a late spring or summer morning and be back before noon.  Even at such an early hour, I'd see other cyclists crossing the bridge in both directions.  Some were riding into the city for work or pleasure, but a few were returning from midnight rides:  something I did at least a few times.  Such trips were possible because, in those days (ca. 1983-1991), the Bridge's walkway/cycle paths didn't close.

Some in the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey management will deny the lanes were ever available 24 hours.  Pardon my cynicism, but I don't find it surprising that the bi-state agency that owns the Bridge (and JFK International Airport, among other facilities) would try to gaslight those of us who have been using the Bridge for decades.  

Photo by Charles Pedola

I don't know exactly when the PANYNJ began overnight closure of the bike lanes.  Nor does the agency itself--or, if it does, it's employing "selective memory."  Like Ed Ravin of the Five Borough Bike Club, I remember the nocturnal lane closure starting some time after the terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001. That is when the Authority installed gates.   "I remember seeing that gate and saying, 'They want to be able to close this path,'"  he recalls.  "I didn't like that at all."

Whatever the case, the path had been closed from midnight through 6 am until earlier this month.  Then, the lanes'  availability was extended by one hour:  It now opens at 5 am.  While that is a partial victory, the PANYNJ's reasoning is murky at best and specious at worst.  A spokesman claimed that the closures began in 2016 for cleaning, maintenance and restoration.  That contrasts with  another statement attributing the closure to a "standard practice" that began in 1995. Both of those claims contradict a 2004 press release stating the lanes would be closed overnight due to "enhanced security measures" for that year's Republican National Convention.

Now, to most people, that difference of one hour doesn't sound like much.  But there are people who ride to and from jobs at that hour--or overnight--who can't afford to, or simply don't, drive or take buses.  Even those of us who pedal across the bridge to train or simply for pleasure feel something in common with those workers:  that the Port Authority doesn't care about us.  About 4 million vehicles drive across the bridge every month; the tolls they pay make the Bridge the Port Authority's second most-profitable asset (after JFK Airport).  On the other hand, in a warm-weather month, about 90,000 of us pedal across the bridge--and we don't pay tolls.

How Long Did It Last?

 Cycling has been one of the few constants in my life.

Going With A Gnarly Idea

 Here in New York City, the prototypical commuter/errand/“beater” bike has flat handlebars, a single fixed cog or freewheel and tires somewhat wider and thicker than those found on road bikes. Frames are usually finished in plain colors or could be raw steel or aluminum. So far, those bikes sound like the love children of Minimalists and Brutalists. But those drab machines might have neon-colored V-shaped rims, as if to assert themselves against asphalt and concrete. Other cities’ signature bikes are variations on what I have described—or on Dutch-style city bikes. 

In still other places—typically hillier—bikes with multi-gear hubs or derailleurs are more common. Such machines often are modified ‘90’s mountain bikes, which some argue is the best kind of utility bike.

That belief seems to be a guiding philosophy of Gnargo.  Minneapolis natives Elysia and Zach Springer moved to Bentonville, Arkansas shortly before the pandemic.  They were drawn by the city’s reputation as a mecca for mountain biking—they had been cycling advocates in their former hometown—and other outdoor activities. It also happens to be the headquarters of Wal-Mart which, Elysia jokes, “sponsored” their move with Zach’s new job in product development for the retail colossus.

They had two toddlers and wanted to integrate cycling into their lives away from the trails. To them, the ideal solution was a front-loading family cargo bike like they’d seen in Europe. They weren’t widely available at an affordable price in the ‘States, much less in Arkansas, so they decided to make one themselves.

The first design was “pretty bad,” Zach recalls. But after a few tries, they hit upon something that satisfied both of them. It began with an old steel mountain bike frame, which Zach modified and equipped with an electronic kit. 

Needless to say, it got a lot of attention when they rode it around town. People asked where they could get a vehicle like it—which, of course, they couldn’t. So began the Springers’ enterprise.

It will be really interesting to see whether Gnargo’s front-loading cargo bikes become the signature mode of transportation for any community. Such a place would have a very different bicycle culture from New York or Portland!

Photos by Betsy Welch for Outside magazine.

Urban Range

 

West 59th Street, Manhattan, from the saddle of Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike.

Cops Chase, Suspects Get Away, Cyclist Dies

 One of the reasons I have never attended my high-school reunions is an encounter I had with a classmate just after I graduated.

We were in the stands for the Thanksgiving Day football game. He said that he was waiting to enroll in the police academy. That did not surprise me: Several members of his family worked in local and state law enforcement.  He wasn't, however, trying to continue a familial tradition.  Rather, the allure of becoming a constable was  that "it's the only job where you get to drive fast, carry a gun and beat people up."

I suspect that more than a few prospective cops were enticed by the prospect of operating vehicles at speeds that would get civilians arrested or ticketed--and, too often, lead to innocent drivers, bystanders, pedestrians--and cyclists--getting killed.

We don't hear about that very often.  But such was the tragic fate of Amanda Servedio.  The other night, she was riding her bicycle  near 37th Street and 34th Avenue in Astoria--an intersection I have pedaled, probably, hundreds of times, as it's only a few blocks from where I lived--when a driver sped a pickup truck through the intersection and struck her.  The impact launched her; she landed on a nearby parked car.  

She was taken to Elmhurst Hospital, where she was pronounced dead.

As terrible as the crash was, it might have been just another of many caused by a careless, errant or impaired driver save for another "twist:" Police were pursuing the vehicle, whose drivers and passengers were suspects in a burglary at a nearby construction site.

Heartbroken to hear the news that our neighbor Amanda Servedio was hit & killed by a driver fleeing the NYPD in a chase on Tuesday.

Her tragic death was preventable and the latest example of cyclists and pedestrians being killed due to an unacceptable increase in NYPD chases.

— Zohran Kwame Mamdani (@ZohranKMamdani) October 24, 2024

An NYPD policy forbids chases of the sort those officers made. There's a very good reason for that, according to Transportation Alternatives' Alexa Sledge: "When there are cars speeding down city streets, it's dangerous." Evidence of her claim can be found in this fact: Ms. Servedio--an "avid cyclist" according to a friend--is the fifth person to be killed in a police chase this year.

Oh, and the suspects, who abandoned the Dodge Ram 1500 (with "ghost" plates), are still at large. 

Call me cycnical, but I wonder whether those cops gave chase for the thrill of it--just as my old classmate dreamed of doing.

This Shouldn't Be A Shock

The bicycle has been described as the parent of the automobile and grandparent of the airplane.  Indeed, most of the technology found in early--and, in some cases, current--cars and planes was created for bicycle.  The most famous, and possibly important, example is the pneumatic tire:  Automobiles would be no faster or better than horse-drawn carriages, and modern aircraft couldn't take off or land, without them. Ball bearings and variable gears are among the other innovations that "crossed over" from two wheels to four.

Moreover, many of the early designers, engineers, manufacturers and even mechanics for automobiles of aircraft got their start with bicycles.  Henry Ford and the Wright Brothers are among the most famous examples. Speaking of whom:  Mr. Ford didn't "invent" the assembly lines for automobile production.  It had already been in use in bicycle factories, and he adapted that innovation for the automobile company that bears his name.

As the cars overtook bicycles as the primary means of land transportation, "borrowing" shifted the other way.  But as the bicycle industry in the US saved itself by selling its wares as toys or, at best, transportation for kids who weren't old enough to drive, the car-to-bike migration wasn't as technological as it was stylistic:  Bike makers chromed parts for a "streamlined" look and added stick shifters and steering wheel-like handlebars to make their machines adaptable to childrens' fantasies of driving cars and motorcycles. (The "muscle bikes" of the 1960s--on the eve of the North American Bike Boom--are examples of what I mean.) 

The cycle of innovation and borrowing continued when mountain bikes were first created.  Many used brake levers and other parts from motorcycles and early suspension systems could trace their development--from springs and cables to air and elastomers, and back--to what was found on Harleys, Hondas and BMWs. And, whatever you think of them (I'm still not using them), disc brakes have been standard equipment on all but the smallest and lightest cars for about 50 years and are becoming more common on bicycles.

Now, it seems that the trend may be coming "full circle."  A crew in Stray's Garage, an Italian custom motorcycle shop, created this "cafe racer" from a Soviet-era Ural motorcycle.  Its most striking element, apart from its engine, is the front-fork suspension which, according to Cristian Curmei, blends elements of mountain bike rear suspension systems.

Oh, and the suspension system's piggyback oil reserve (near the top of the spring) bears a name familiar to mountain bike riders:  Manitou.  

 

The Latent Demand For Bike Lanes

I took one economics course as an undergraduate. What did I learn? Well, there is a subject at which I am worse than I am at math, which is saying something. Oh, and I learned a few terms that come up every now and again, including “induced demand” and “latent demand.”

The former term refers to, among other things, what happens when new roads are built. Contrary to what people expect—and, too often, planners and politicians promise—building new roads or adding traffic lanes doesn’t ease congestion. Instead, it induces people to drive for short trips and on occasions when they otherwise might not have, and to move further away from their workplaces, schools and other places they need and want to go to—and public transportation.

On the other hand—again, counter to common perception and the claims of grandstanding politicians—bike lanes bring out latent demand. That is to say, they encourage people who wanted to cycle to their jobs, schools or favorite stores and restaurants but were reluctant because they didn’t feel safe. I imagine there are more such people than there are folks who want to drive two hours each way to work, or to put up with the hassles of driving and parking to buy some cereal and milk.

Cyclist on path in front of Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto. Photo by John Rieti for CBC.

Recent research bears out what I have just said. Moreover, it shows that in many places—including my hometown of New York—bike lanes actually help to reduce the amount of time it takes to drive because bike lanes, which are often installed with left turn lanes, allow cyclists to proceed more quickly through intersections and keep cars from blocking other cars.

Research also refutes another misconception: that bike lanes are “bad for business.” They might be in the short term, which is how most small businesses owners operate because a bad month or two can ruin them (as the pandemic showed us). But loyal customers tend to return, whatever the circumstances, and stores and restaurants can gain new customers in cyclists (and pedestrians) who happen to pass by.

In other words, they benefit from latent demand. Hmm…If my economics course had included more examples like that…math would have remained my worst subject.

Admit It!

 Is this just another way to say “I crashed?”

The Winds of the Season

 On my way back from a ride to Fort Totten, I stopped on the Malcolm X Promenade and captured (I hope) some of the energy of a Fall day.

No Tour Ahead Of The Marathon

 I participated—twice as a marshal—in 15 of the first 25 Five Boro Bike Tours. In the early years, it was a lot of fun because all participants, whether they came from near or far, were cyclists: We rode, not because it was fashionable, but rather because it was in our blood. Sometimes I feel as if I am carrying the momentary bonds that formed between me and cyclists I haven’t seen in the decades since:  We were a kind of fraternity without the hazing; we understood each other.

But as the Tour grew from dozens to hundreds to thousands to tens of thousands, it felt less like a ride with a lot of friends and more like an Event (yes, with a capital E). It seemed more important to be, or be seen as, hip, whatever that meant at the moment. Some of the “cyclists” I saw on later rides reminded me of the kinds of people who go to galleries or museums with family or friends because that’s what they’re doing before brunch.

I don’t mean to come off as elitist: I am happy whenever people choose to ride. But I am not interested in showing how sophisticated I am (though, I admit, that was a priority when I was younger); I just want to ride, take in the sights and sounds and, if I am not riding solo, enjoying the company of others.

Oh, and I simply refuse to pay $100 for a ride that lasts only part of the day—even if Amelie is catering the rest stops and Calvin Klein designs the jerseys.

For the past two decades, however, it seems that a group of cyclists is doing the Tour without the Tour, if you will.  In the wee hours of morning, they set out along the New York City Marathon while the streets along the route are closed but the runners haven’t started.

Of course, the Marathon course is shorter than the Tour. But the former includes some of the latter, which is one reason why I make that comparison. Also, the ride is not sanctioned by any group or club, so I imagine that it feels, in a way, like one of the early Five Boro rides. 

I have not participated in one of those rides, but it’s hard to see the harm in it . Most people who knew about it apparently felt the same way:  Even police officers charged with blocking off the route didn’t seem to mind.

But, apparently, some folks in the New York Road Runners’ Club weren’t to keen on it. And there was a report of a cyclist hitting a pedestrian. So, the pre-Marathon ride is now forbidden, and the NYPD says that anyone who rides ahead of the Marathon will be stopped.

Marianne Martin: What Should Have Been

I am very happy that the Women's National Basketball Association is finally getting at least some of the attention it deserves--even if it took a heterosexual Great White Hope to get it.  As much as I like Caitlin Clark, her ascendancy begs this question:  Who will get more commercial endorsements, she or Brittney Griner?

That said, I am also happy to see the success of other women's sports, particularly tennis and soccer.  Both, I believe, have developed identities distinct from those of the men's games:  Tennis has had female players (like Billie Jean King, Martina Navratilova and Serena Williams) who could beat most men, and female footballers had the advantage of not only being great, but also of not having to compete with men (at least in North America) for attention.

Once upon a time, women's cycling was like that, at least in the US.  From the mid-70's through the '80's, a generation of great American female riders won medals and accolades, though not a lot of money.  Unfortunately, time has not been kind to some of them: Mary Jane "Miji" Reoch was killed during a training ride.  Rebecca Twigg has fallen into homelessness. And now Marianne Martin has suffered a horrible crash that has left her with multiple injuries and a lot of pain.

If you're not yet in, ahem, midlife or a cycling fan, I can understand why you haven't heard about Ms. Martin.  But four decades ago, she shared the podium with Laurent Fignon, Bernard Hinault and Greg LeMond.

That year, Hinault achieved the fourth of his five Tour de France General Classification victories.  He would win his fifth the following year.  Fignon won the two previous Tours; a year after Hinault's final victory, Le Mond would win the first of his three Tour titles.  

So why was Marianne Martin on that stage? Well, she won the first edition of the Tour de France Feminin. Maria Canins of Italy and France's Jeanne Longo would finish first and second, respectively, in the 1985 and 1986 races; they would trade places for the last three TdFFs in  1987, 1988 and 1989.

In short, Marianne Martin was one of the most accomplished cyclists in the world. But her moment, like those of Reoch, Twigg and other members of that “Golden Generation” of American female cyclists (who included, among others, Connie Carpenter, Sue Novara and Sue Young) was all too brief. Some would argue that Greg LeMond’s Tour wins, and victories by other male American riders, overshadowed the women’s accomplishments. That’s true mainly because men’s sports garner so much more attention and sponsorship money.  Another reason why women’s racing dropped off the radar has to do, I believe, with attitudes about women in sports.

While there was arguably less gender inequality in American sports than in those of other countries, the distressing fact is that even in the US, female athletes got attention for things that had nothing to do with their athletic accomplishments. For all that she did on a bike, Twigg was noticed as much, or more, for her looks. In Europe, the center of bike racing, the situation was even worse: female riders often gained more fame, however fleeting, (or not-so-fleeting notoriety) for posing rather than pedaling.

Sex indeed sells, but only for so long. So does scandal. Ms. Martin did not generate, however inadvertently, the hype or hysteria of other athletes: She wasn’t even brushed with accusations of doping, as Longo has been.

Thus, riding her bike and being (as far as anyone knows) a good citizen was not enough to keep Marianne in the public eye. It took a horrible crash—caused, according to official accounts, over-correcting on the sort of high-speed turn she made hundreds, possibly thousands, of times before—to bring notice to her in a time when—I hope—women’s sports is ready taking its rightful place in the public’s view.

Taking Action—What kind?

 He takes his bike to work

and I went to Harvard—where I bought an overpriced sweatshirt.

We Won’t Stop. But We Need More

 When I crashed and was “doored” three months apart, people asked me whether I considered giving up cycling. 

That was four years ago. I’d been riding practically all of my life and a dedicated cyclist for nearly half a century. My response then is the same as the one I’d give now: “No!”

I therefore understand Jakob Morales’ assertion that he will continue to cycle as his primary means of transportation, even after being slammed by a hit-and-run driver in his hometown of Indianapolis. “I was on the bike the next day, so you can’t stop me,” he declared.

It’s as if he’d been answering the question I was asked. For all I know, someone may have asked him. But his testimony underscores something he said in response to hearing about his city’s plans to extend protected bike lanes on a major thoroughfare. It’s good, he said, but not enough. A careless or aggressive driver can literally get away with murder unless the incident is caught on camera. In Morales’ case, it was his own camera that recorded the impact, which shattered the driver’s windshield.

Fortunately for him, he came away with only a couple of scratches. But the fact that he just happened to have that device on his helmet may be what prevented the driver’s liability from being turned into blame against Morales.

And that, to him, is one of the issues his city needs to address. “It shouldn’t take a $500 camera to capture their information and hunt them down,” he says of drivers like the one who struck him.

And we shouldn’t have to live in fear—or have to answer the question of whether we’ll continue to ride.

After Helene And Milton

 People in Florida expected the worst as Hurricane Milton approached.

While it struck with less force than anticipated, it still left death and destruction in its wake. But the real disruption to people’s lives came as a result of Milton making landfall only two weeks after Helene, a powerful hurricane in its own right.

In some places, driving is all but impossible.  Even where roads were less damaged, people can’t drive because gasoline isn’t available. For them, there are two modes of transportation, both using feet.

Photo by Sean Rayford for Getty Images.

Are Cyclists Against Religious Freedom?

I most recently visited Montréal around this time of year in 2015. My visit spanned a holiday weekend in the US: Columbus/Indigenous People’s’ Day, which just happened to coincide with Canadian Thanksgiving. That weekend, foliage colors were at or near their peak, highlighting the city’s beauty.

Of course, one of the things that made my visit memorable was the cycling.  La ville aux deux cent clochers had a network of protected bike lanes that was not only more extensive, but also seemed to be more practical for transportation cycling, than anything I’d seen in the US up to that time. Best of all, there seemed to be a respect between cyclists, pedestrians and motorists that I rarely, if ever, see in my home country.

Now, however, the sort of fight I thought could happen only in the ‘States might be brewing. It could pit cyclists and the city against…churchgoers.

A few months ago, bike lanes were installed on both sides of rue Terrebonne in the Nôtre Dame de Grace borough, and the previously two-way street became a one-way thoroughfare. That has upset business owners who say that the lanes have taken parking spaces and thus led to a loss of revenue.

But one of the most vigorous complaints has come from Paul Wong, the warden of St. Monica’s church. He claims that church attendance—and donations—have decreased by nearly a third because, as he tells it, parishioners can’t find parking.

Had such a scenario unfolded in the United States, Wong or someone like him might’ve turned it into a “religious freedom” issue. It will be interesting to see whether he can or does that. Canada’s constitution does guarantee freedom of religious expression. I am no scholar of either the U.S. or Canadian Constitution, but I have to wonder whether Canada’s laws could be interpreted in similar ways to US policies. There have been cases in which employees—mainly Muslim—of municipal, provincial and national governments alleged discrimination against them for wearing symbols or sartorial accoutrements of their faith while on the job.

One thing I would never mention to a congregant of any house of worship is that I am an atheist. Can you imagine what visions of a “conspiracy” that might invoke? Oh yeah, that transgender atheist cyclist is trying to keep us from worshipping in the way God wants us to.

To The Sun and the City

 If this mural isn’t an incentive to ride—or visit The Bicycle Chain in Raleigh(!), North Carolina—I don’t know what is.

A Tour Of My New Home

 The other day I rode in the Tour de Bronx.  The ride, which isn’t a race, is offered in three lengths:  10, 25 and the “epic” “40+” mile route.  If you’ve been reading this blog, you know that I took the longest trek which, for me, still isn’t particularly long. According to a few other riders, we actually did about 45 miles.

I must say, though, that it’s interesting. We pedaled through some neighborhoods my neighbor Sam and I have explored. He has lived most of his life in the Bronx, but he—like other riders in the Tour—was surprised to see that the borough is full of such varying communities, architectural styles and topography. For example, people were as surprised to see a sign reading “Welcome to Country Club” (Yes, there is a Bronx neighborhood by that name!) as they were to encounter the climb from Van Cortlandt Park to the Fieldston enclave of private streets and the prep school JFK attended.

The ride’s’ volunteers were helpful and almost preternaturally cheerful.  In addition to directing us, they handed out snacks, water and energy drinks and served up pizza and other goodies in the Botanical Garden, where the ride ended.

That they had so much food and drink was amazing when you consider one of the ways the Tour differs from the Five Boro Bike Tour (which is roughly the same length):  the Bronx ride is free, while last year’s Five Boro set back each participant $100. I think the difference might be due in part to how many sponsors the Bronx ride has. But it may also have to do with another major difference in the ride itself.

Streets and highways that comprise the 5B route are completely closed to traffic. I imagine that the city spends a fair amount for police patrols along the way—and, as I understand, accounts for part of the entry fee.  On the other hand, most of the streets—some of which included bike lanes—weren’t cordoned off for the TdB. 

While that wasn’t a problem for me—except for two incidents I’ll mention—for some riders, who were treating the ride as a race, stopping for a red light was an affront to their egos. So they rolled through and the riders behind them—including, at times, yours truly, felt drivers’ wrath.

One of those riders, who probably was young enough to be my grandchild, squeezed past me on City Island Avenue, which has one traffic lane in each direction and, for some reason, was as heavily trafficked as it would be on a summer Sunday. So there was no choice but to ride between the traffic and parked vehicles—which is where that young rider passed and almost bumped into me.

The other incident came near the end of the ride, where we turned on to University Avenue. There is a marked, but not protected, bike lane which I don’t use because, frankly, it’s more dangerous than riding in the traffic lane. Other riders were either familiar with it or saw that the turn to the bike lane was awkward. But one guy who looked like he’s lived on beer and bacon cheeseburgers since his days as a linebacker ended and was riding an electric bike (pedal-assisted, which was allowed) decided he had to ride in the bike lane and cut in front of me. “Why don’t you use the bike lane?” he yelled.

Even after his and the passer’s lack of consideration—and the fact that I had ridden everywhere (except Woodlawn Cemetery, which doesn’t allow bikes to enter at any other time) along the route on other rides, I am glad I did the Tour and probably will do it again. To me, it feels more like a ride than 5B, which feels more and more like an event. Oh, and I think the TdB offers more surprises—and rewards.

Getting Carded

 Beware!

These animals eat Metro Cards.

Don’t feed them.

A Shrek On A Trek?

A Shrek on a Trek?

(Do I get an endorsement fee for this??

From A City That Almost Became A Cycling Utopia To One That Claims To Be One

 Before Portland became, well, Portland, there was a moment—say, about 30 years ago—when it seemed that Seattle would become what the “Rose City” has become in America’s —and the world’s—consciousness. (Sorry to sound like a grad student trying to imitate their favorite professor!) 

San Francisco’s countercultural spirit and much of its sheer charm was being ground down (some would say it had already been ground down) by tech- and finance-industry wealth; other cities’ creative communities and bohemian enclaves—if they ever had them in the first place—were similarly destroyed or co-opted by corporatization and gentrification. While “indie” culture, which was largely defined by its music (think Kurt Cobain, Pearl Jam et al.) was Seattle’s trademark and gave  “The Emerald City” a reputation as a haven for people who did things their way, it is very different from what “keeps Portland weird.”

But, because I am writing about cycling and not a cultural history of the United States, I am thinking of a particular way in which Seattle almost became, in essence, Portland before there was Portland—or the notion of Portland, anyway.  That is to say, Seattle seemed destined to become America’s “Bicycle City.”

I tried to find, in vain, reports I read during that time saying that Seattle had more bicycle shops, per capita, than any other US city and that it was building what we now call “bicycle infrastructure” decades before most other cities’ and other jurisdictions’—including Portland’s—planners had even thought of it. If indeed my memory of such things is correct, I could attribute that interest in cycling and cycling infrastructure to traits shared by many who moved to Seattle during the ‘80’s and ‘90’s and who moved to Portland a decade later: They loved outdoor activities, including cycling. Perhaps more important, at least a few fled car-centric cities and suburbs and wanted their newly-adopted hometowns to be more bike- and pedestrian-friendly.

Given this history, it’s understandable that Seattle Bike Blog author Tom Fucoloro would expect to find a cycling utopia during his recent visit to Portland—and surprising that he didn’t. Lest you think that his judgment was a matter of envy or civic pride, he offers some very specific criticisms of cycling in the city which, he says, he enjoyed. 

Tom Fucoloro and his son cycling in Portland.

His most trenchant observations are of downtown bike lanes. One is the lanes’ lack of connectedness: Some begin out of nowhere and take you nowhere, much less to another lane. (That is also one of my pet peeves about New York’s bike lanes.) Another is that there aren’t protected lanes in high-traffic downtown areas.

I share his consternation that a city that touts itself as a cyclists’ haven, and claims to encourage transportation as well as recreational cycling, doesn’t do something that might entice more people to abandon their cars, at least for short trips. Then again, I’m not surprised, as I live in New York, where the situation isn’t much better—but at least we have more extensive, if overburdened, mass transit systems .

I Didn’t Know It Well. I’ll Miss It Anyway.

Last week, an after-work ride zigzagged me through northern Bronx and Westchester County. Along the way I pedaled down a hill (I was on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike) to McLean Avenue in Yonkers. I had ridden McLean a number of times before but, ironically, last week was the first time since I’ve moved to my current place: From here, it’s only about 7 kilometers but about 30 from Astoria, depending on which route I took.

Anyway, on McLean, I couldn’t help but to notice a store that looked like it was being stripped to the walls. I stopped; indeed it was. Then I noticed a few bicycles, some with tags, bunched together in the middle of the floor.

I asked a man whether any of the ones without tags—which included a Cannondale road bike from, I believe, the ‘90’s, an early Schwinn Traveler and a Giant hybrid with a Brooks B17 saddle—were available. “They’re all accounted for. Sorry.”

I glanced to my left and saw another racing bike leaning against the wall. “Then I suppose that Eddy Mercx is also going to somebody.” He nodded.

I asked him why the shop closed. The shop’s founder retired; his son took over and things went downhill.  There was a “sugar rush” early in the COVID-19 pandemic followed by a “crash”: when supply chains reopened and new merchandise was available, people who already bought bikes and accessories weren’t buying more, he explained.

Both parts of his story—the bike shop passing from one generation to the next and the pandemic boom-and-bust—are familiar narratives behind long-established bike shops that close. It later occurred to me, however, that there may be at least one other reason County Cycle Center has closed.

It was one of many family-owned businesses that have lined McLean, the main artery of a longtime Irish enclave that straddles that part of Yonkers and a slice of the Bronx next to Van Cortlandt Park. Like so much of my city and its surrounding areas, it’s changing as longtime residents die or retire to the Sun Belt and their kids and grandkids move away. County Cycle, which graced McLean for nearly six decades, seemed to be the sort of shop where parents bought their kids bikes for Christmas or their birthdays, and those kids would return to buy their kids bikes and, perhaps, “grown up” bikes for themselves. (It was an authorized Schwinn dealer and later took on Fuji, Trek, Cannondale and GT.) Such shops depend on relationships they develop with people in the community; when those people leave or die, those who move in—especially if they are young or from different cultural backgrounds—may not feel inclined to get to know members of the neighborhood’s “establishment.”

I inferred the story about the shop’s relationship to its community after I got home. I realized I had stopped in that shop on at least one earlier ride and remembered that the man I met—the founder?—was curious about my bike because it was something that didn’t normally pass through his shop. I think I bought a small tool or water bottle, and he was happy for my business.

He may not be able to get you a custom frame or a replica of whatever won the Tour or Giro or Vuelta this year. Folks who ride integrated carbon fiber cockpits may turn up their noses at him and his shop. But folks like him are interesting and thankful for small things.  I will miss him and them, and their shops.

Who Wreaks More Havoc?

 

Photo by Owen Zwiliak, Chicago Sun -Times

A few of my recent posts have dealt with drivers' and cyclists' attitudes about, and perceptions of, each other.  As I've described, irate motorists see us as over-privileged scofflaws who endanger the public order.

At least one person perceives otherwise.  James R. Anderson, a Chicago cyclist, wrote a letter to his hometown newspaper, the Sun-Times about drivers who behave badly.  As he correctly points out, they are a more egregious danger to cyclists and pedestrians than we can be to them in part because they are driving two to four tons of metal, often at two to four times the speed at which we ride (not to mention how much faster and more massive they are than pedestrians). But he makes another point:  Too many motorists (including drivers of pickup trucks and SUVs) are looking at their screens rather than their surroundings; they, and other drivers sometimes block crosswalks or bike lanes and blow through red lights, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they've done anything wrong.

Oh, and he also brings up another little-discussed fact:  That most fatal crashes are caused by drivers, not cyclists or pedestrians.  For one thing, even in cities like Chicago and New York with large numbers of cyclists, we are far outnumbered by drivers.  And a driver's error or carelessness can be magnified to a much greater degree--because of the vehicle's speed and mass--than any misjudgment a cyclist or pedestrian could make.

To spare you from having to navigate a paywall, I am reproducing Anderson's letter here:

I have seen letters to the editor recently from car drivers complaining about “sharing the road with bike riders while bike riders break all kinds of laws.” The letter writers say they’ve seen bicycle riders run stop signs.

My question is: Have they seen the behavior of car drivers? Last week on Hubbard Street, I was stopped at a stop sign — because it’s a stop sign and because there was a pedestrian in the far crosswalk — and three drivers buzzed around me to blow the stop sign and endanger the pedestrian.

Drivers in giant SUVs and pickup trucks, with no idea what’s happening around their vehicles because they’re too busy playing with their phones to have a look or check their mirrors, run red lights with alarming frequency. I don’t mean they just missed the yellow; the light was red, and they decided to go anyway.

Drivers turn right on red without stopping or looking for pedestrians on the right, often in contravention of “No turn on red” signs.

Drivers block bike lanes and crosswalks and fail to stop for pedestrians in crosswalks, with no idea they’re doing anything wrong.

By the way, it is drivers, not bicycle riders, who usually cause car crash fatalities, including more than 1,300 in 2021. Plus, they inflict injuries great and small, plus cause billions in property damage.

Bad bicycle riding is inexcusable, but its impact is microscopic compared to the harm of bad car driving. It’s like the difference between a nuclear missile and a fly swatter.

James R. Anderson, Near West Side

The Right Kind

 Today is National Taco Day.

I observed the occasion by eating three soft-shell tacos after riding to Fort Totten.

At least I didn’t have to fix—or replace—another kind of “taco.”