Pity The Poor, Downtrodden Automobile

 Some time during my childhood, I saw a cartoon in which the automobile was on trial for its life. (Ironically, it was released the same year—1957–as “Twelve Angry Men,” perhaps, to this day, the best argument against capital punishment.) The point of the story—the reason why countless American kids have seen it in drivers’ ed classes—is the automobile is blamed for the dangers caused by its driver.

Another kid, who probably saw the cartoon a decade or so before I did, seems to have taken a different message from it. Instead of seeing reckless drivers as true villains, he saw the automobile as the poor, aggrieved victim, much as he sees white cisgender heterosexual men 

By now, you’ve probably figured out that I am referring to the Fake Tan Fũhrer, a.k.a., El Cheeto Grande, the Mango Menace or Golfin’ Golem.

His apparent belief that transgender leftist environmentalist cyclists like me have it in for his self-beloved self, I mean automobiles is expressed in his rationale for rescinding Federal funding for bike lanes, pedestrian malls or anything else that can make it safer to pedal or walk through American cities. In notices (which, one wonders, whether FTF himself dictated) to local officials, the US Department of Transportation declared such projects as “hostile” to automobiles and claimed they run counter to the DoT’s priority of “increasing roadway capacity for motor vehicles.” I have to wonder whether such a statement is written anywhere in DoT’s policies or simply another impromptu fiction from our “Dear Leader.”

So, boys and girls (I am trying not to run afoul of FTF’s decrees about the language of gender!), just remember that all those poor, picked-on SUVs and pimped-out pickup trucks are simply getting the room they need to breathe—just like those dudes you see on the subway who sit with their legs spread across the width of two seats. Overcompensation, anyone?

Would Agnès Varda Approve?

 Yesterday I rode LaVande, my King of Mercia, against 20-35 KPH (12.5- 22.5 MPH) headwinds,, to Point Lookout. My reward: I coasted along the coast to Coney Island and its culinary delights .

Cycling Through Their Midlives

 In spite of what I’m told by my neighbors in the senior apartment complex where I live—and, at times, my body—I am in, ahem, midlife.

I don’t believe I’m in denial. (Does anybody ever believe they are?) I do, however, fear that one day I may not be able to continue cycling —at least, not in the way I always have. I’ve been reminded, by a few peoples, of octogenarian (I’m not there yet!) Joe Biden falling off his bike. Did those people secretly vote for the Fake Tan Fūhrer?

If the day ever comes when I can’t balance my trusty Mercians, I hope I still can keep on pedaling in some fashion. Matthew Stepeniak of Hudson, Wisconsin gives me hope. He got a side-by-side tandem so his 92-year-old mother Nancy, for whom he is the caregiver, could ride with him.

Nancy Stepaniak on the side-by-side tandem she rides with her son Matthew, who provided this photo to Wisconsin Public Radio.

He recalls that the first time they rode together, they didn’t get very far because they were stopped so many times by curious people. He then knew that he was onto something special, which led him to co-found Limitless Cycling, a nonprofit that provides adaptive bicycles and equipment for people of all abilities to enjoy the outdoors. It’s now a Wisconsin chapter of Cycling Without Age.

“I am just a boy who wanted to give his mother a bicycle,” he recalls. “And things just got out of control in the most beautiful way.”

Cycling Without Age began in 2012, when Ole Kassow of Denmark acquired a three-wheeled pedal-powered “trishaw” and began giving rides to local senior citizens. From a one-man operation, CWA became an international organization; the first US chapter opened four years later in Wisconsin—in Oshkosh, to be exact.

The organization is still young. And folks like Kassow and Stepaniak are keeping people cycling—and in midlife.

It Hasn't Been Easy

 It’s been nearly a week since I last posted.  I haven't felt well, physically or emotionally.  The latter is, at least in part, an effect of not riding much; the former is one reason why I haven't.

Even when the sky is bright and sunny, clouds seem to envelop everything.  The political and social climate contributes to the gloom:  Even though most of the people I encounter regularly treat me well, there just doesn't seem to be any escape from the hate and manufactured anger that fills the air.  Perhaps I'm noticing it more because of the time I spent in Japan, where it never seemed that bumping into a stranger might result in violence. 

Charlie Kirk's murder certainly didn't help to bring down the metaphorical temperature.  I know I'm running the risk of threats, whether on this blog or anywhere, simply for mentioning his name.  And as a transgender woman, I worry that I, because of my identity, will be seen as part of some problem or another that led to his assassination, simply because one--just one, mind you--of the hundreds of mass shootings this country has borne during the past few years was committed by someone born male who identifies as female. (Thank Faux News' Jesse Watters for claiming there was a "pattern" of trans people committing violence.)  I think now of Sam, my neighbor and sometime riding buddy, and his partner:  Because they are Black, people blame, shun and gossip about them because of something or another done by another Black person.

And then there is the hate, or simply disdain, shown to cyclists.  I can't recall another time when bike lanes, or even the line between parked cars and traffic, or between traffic lanes, was so often deliberately obstructed by debris, abandoned Lime eBikes or scooters, or by folks who saw me or other cyclists coming and decided to step into the lane and chat, embrace or, worse, lead their young children.  

Other cyclists, especially the young, aren't immune to not being mindful of other cyclists.  While crossing the Queens span of the RFK Bridge on Friday, an eBiker who was taking a selfie as he rode almost knocked me over; a couple of minutes later, I came as close as I have in ages to a fight when I almost became part of the guardrail when a cyclist coming from the opposite direction zoomed into a narrow turn.  When I yelled at him, the young punk claimed, "I'm a professional.  You don't know how to ride."

In other words, he--like the guy taking a selfie--thought that it was his bikeway and I happened to be on it.  When the pandemic struck, it seemed that people were becoming more mindful because, well, you and they survived. There was that same sense in the days after 9/11, the anniversary of which came last week.  But over time, that sense of community died:  It turned into icy disdain a couple of years after 9/11, and now pandemic empathy has turned into rage at everybody and everything.

My mood wasn't helped on Friday when, during the ride, I paid a "for old time's sake" visit to Tony's Bicycle Shop in Astoria.  Its founder died a few years ago; his son is raising his kids, so the head mechanic is now running the place.  He pointed to a wall:

"Look at this.  It's not what it used to be:"

Gianna Aguilar took the above photo about three years ago.   "We're not filling that wall again," Jose said.   "We can't get stuff or it costs twice as much as it used to," he explained.  "And there's no business--look!"

As if he were reading my mind, he continued, "Lots of stores are going out of business.  We might, too."

Bike Weekend, Detoured

 “it was Portland before Portland” in part because of events like “Bicycle Weekends,” which the city has held since 1968, when The Rose City was home to loggers, not bloggers.

And perhaps the most respected, if not emblematic, Bicycle Weekends event is Bike & Scoot Sunday, in which the city’s Department of Transportation partners with local businesses and organizations to lend, free of charge, adaptive cycles to people with a variety of disabilities.

Imagine that such an event is disrupted when a boulevard closed for the event is turned over, not to folks on hand-pedaled or three-wheeled bikes, but to Rivian SUVs—for a photo shoot for a company ad campaign.

That is what capped off the penultimate Bike Weekend in Seattle. The film crew received permits from the city’s Office of Economic Development and Department of Parks and Recreation. It’s not clear whether the Department of Transportation was consulted. But, as Tom Fucoloro of Seattle Bike Blog points out, it wouldn’t have taken much research for the OED or DPR to do a bit of research.

The DPR claims it issued the permit “in error.”

Joy Without Motion

 How happy can you be while standing still?

No Loss Of Status

 You may have noticed something different about this blog today:  I removed the Feedspot badge from the sidebar.

No, this blog hasn’t lost its status (as if it ever had any!) as a top midlife blog.  Rather, I removed the badge in response to an email I received today:

 

Need A Wheel Truing Stand? Go To Kent—And Thank Trump

 I am no economist. So, take what I am about to say for what it’s worth: I have had the sense that Trump’s tariffs would not have the effect he claimed. In fact, in one instance, however small, it’s having the opposite effect.

If the US economy is an ocean, its bicycle industry might be a minnow:  As I mentioned in my previous post, very few bikes and almost no accessories or parts are made here. Among the few bikes made here are custom frames and a relatively small number of top-of-the line machines like those of Specialized’s S-Works line.

But even those bikes are made almost entirely of imported parts. The same is true for the few mass-market bikes assembled on these shores—which, until recently, included offerings from Kent.

Most serious riders (who include, I confess, yours truly) turn up their noses at such bikes. But I would bet that more Kents are purchased in a day than élite machines are sold in a year. And Kent was one of the few companies that continued to assemble their wares in this country—in South Carolina, to be exact—as the rest of the bike industry outsourced its production.

Note my use of the past tense.  In June, the company laid off most of its employees. Now it’s auctioning its tools and machinery—including several Park Tool wheelbuilding stands and work stands and Holland Mechanics wheel-truing machines.

Why? According to a company spokesperson, assembling bikes in the US is “no longer feasible” because—wait for it—Trump’s tariffs have made it too expensive to import the necessary parts.

Of course, Kent is unlikely to be the only bike-related company, and the US bicycle industry the only enterprise, to be adversely affected by the global trade war the Fake Tan Fũhrer has sparked. But I have to wonder whether Trump (or more likely, his donors) knew that tariffs would decimate US industries and thus bring American workers to their knees while claiming that “the most beautiful word” would Make America Great Again—if indeed it, or any other nation, ever was.

Cycling And Labor

 

Today is Labor Day in the US.

In previous years, I have written posts about bicycle races and other events held on this holiday. I have also written about the relationships between cycling, the bicycle industry and labor.

While cycling is seen as a “green” activity and we, cyclists, have a reputation for being more socially and politically progressive than most other people, the bicycle industry, at least in the US, has its share of companies and executives who have fought against workers organizing and exploited them in other ways. And almost no bicycles sold in the US are made here. (Custom frames and high-end models from major companies—like Specialized “S” Works—that are still made in one of the 50 states comprise less than one tenth of one percent of bikes sold in this country.) Manufacturers moved their production to low-wage countries where workers are paid poorly and have few, if any, rights and environmental laws are all but nonexistent 

Now we have a President who has somehow convinced millions of people he is an ally of workers. And he doesn’t hide his contempt for cyclists. That, of course, is almost reason enough (at least for.me) to continue cycling through my midlife which, to my mind, lasts as long as I don’t know when my life will end.  And it’s a reason to truly support workers, with whom—whatever we do for a living—we have more in common than many of us realize.