A Ride Ahead Of A Storm

 The "once in a generation" weather events are happening, well, more than once in a generation.  

Such an event was predicted for last night and today.  The weather, according to forecasters, would take twists and turns that would cause a script to be rejected as too unbelievable. The day started with temperatures just above freezing.  Then the rain came:  a few drops falling as I returned to my apartment turned into downpours accompanied by high winds.  The temperature rose to springlike levels, but are expected to fall enough to give us the coldest Christmas Eve and Christmas in, well, a generation.

Now, I don't mind riding in rain or wind, or in changing temperatures.  But the predicted combination is not my idea of a backdrop for a good ride.  I think the only one in my orbit who likes this weather is Marlee because it keeps me home with her!

Anyway, I spent about two and a half hours on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear.  Most of our ride rimmed the East River shorelines of Queens and Brooklyn.  As familiar as it all was, I enjoyed it and, more important, noticed something that I missed because I took a turn I wouldn't normally take.

Along the Greenpoint waterfront is the WNYC Transmitter Park, from which our local public radio stations (on AM and FM) sends out the programs that are often the soundtrack when I'm home.  I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see a mural dedicated to Black Americans who've been killed by police officers.  I think I pay a bit more attention to such things than most White Americans.  Still, I was astounded and, later, ashamed that I didn't recognize many of the names.  What was more disturbing was the knowledge that, as the creators of the murals acknowledge, the "list" is far from complete.

About twenty meters to the right of the BLM mural (or to the mural's left) is another that couldn't be more different.  

Perhaps that is the point:  The woman in the mural looks as White as the paint in her face.   She is as languid as the Sandra Bland, Eric Garner and others in the BLM mural were tense and fearful when they were confronted by constables.  

Oh, and she is lounging on what appears to be a Spring day. I was looking at her, and the BLM mural, on the second day of Winter, as a "once in a generation" storm was approaching.

Cyclist Struck By Hate

It’s one thing when a motorist strikes a cyclist accidentally.

It’s something else when done with intention.

But I’ve heard of few things more despicable than this:



The driver not only drove into a Black Lives Matter protester on a bicycle intentionally; she made a point of expressing her hate.

The latest report says the cyclist’s injuries are not life-threatening. But he may have emotional scars that will take a long time to heal, if they ever do.

I am no lawyer, but I reckon that the woman should be charged, at the very least, with assault with a deadly weapon.

Bicycling While (Fill In The Blank)

It was a hot afternoon.  I was pedaling home after teaching a summer class.  A van pulled up alongside me. One of its tinted windows rolled down.  "Nice legs!" 

I was still early in my life as Justine, but I guess I was already jaded enough not to hear that voice--or, at least, act as if I hadn't heard.  I continued to ride.  The van inched closer to me.  "Nice bike!"

Again, I ignored the voice.  But the van jacknifed in front of me.  Two doors opened.  Two men in uniform bounded out.

"What's your problem?"

"I hear stuff like that all the time.  I ignore it."

"Well, you should listen to us. We're cops."

"Well, I've never heard a cop talk like you."

"Shut up.  Show me your ID."

"Why?"  

The cop's partner demanded to know what I was doing "in the projects."  I politely pointed out that I wasn't "in the projects" and even if I were, it wouldn't have been an offense.

"Don't be a wise-ass! Show me your ID."

At that moment, I realized he was seized with "roid rage."  His partner most likely was, too.  My immediate goal, then, was to not end up in their van.

Then the guy who "complimented" my legs and bike lectured me about listening to cops and doing as I was told--and not making trouble.

To this day, I don't know what kind of "trouble" I was making.  It's probably a good thing I didn't find out:  If those guys could make up an "offense" (being in the projects) I didn't even commit, I could only imagine what sort of story they'd concoct if they hauled me off and I ended up...in a ditch?

I thought about that incident when I read about Dijon Kizzee.  He was riding his bicycle "illegally" in South Los Angeles on Monday. At least, that's what the cops claimed when they stopped him. 

Dijon Kizzee

He tried to flee.  Deputies shot and killed him.  Later, a gun was found on the scene.

Oh, but this story becomes, shall we say, even more interesting when the LA County Sheriff's  Department tells it.  "During the contact, a fight ensued between the suspect and deputies.  The suspect produced a handgun and a deputy-involved 'hit' shooting occurred."  

A "deputy-involved 'hit' shooting"?  Did that come from an episode of Miami Vice?  Or is it a re-creation of an event that never made it into the history books:  something that a constable in, say, Mississippi or Alabama did after a wardrobe change--from blue to white?

The LASD statement continues:  " The suspect's handgun was recovered.  The suspect was pronounced deceased at the scene."

What piques the curiosity of some, and the ire of others (including Dijon Kizzee's family) is what the reports don't say--or how they contradict each other.  What law, exactly, was he breaking on his bike? Did he flee or did he fight?  And, when he "produced" the gun, did he drop or aim it?

Do I have to mention Mr. Kizzee's race?  I don't know much about the laws in LA or CA.  Maybe there is some stature about Bicycling While Black (BWB) in La-la-land.  Likewise, I may have violated a regulation against Bicycling While Transgender (BWT)that came into existence the moment two cops pulled alongside me one hot afternoon. 

Black Lives Matter!

Mellow Johnny Sends A Loud, Clear Message

I love food and music.  So, some of you may find it unfathomable, or even criminal, that I've never been to Austin, Texas.

Perhaps I'll get there one day.  In addition to the sounds and savory stuff, there's another reason to visit.

I mean, even if you don't care about bicycles, how can you not want to check out a place called "Mellow Johnny's Bike Shop?"

Apparently, they're part of a chain in the area, each store with its own management.  So, a policy at Mellow Johnny's in Austin might not prevail at MJ's in, for example, Fort Worth.

Actually, that scenario is not as hypothetical as I made it seem. In fact, the Austin shop has done something that the managers of the Fort Worth store aren't--and don't agree with.

Will Black, the general manager Mellow Johnny's--Austin, has announced, on social media, that the shop won't be selling any more bikes to the city's police department.  "It was a staff-wide store decision," he said, "that we discussed for a pretty good length of time to make sure we were all on the same page and doing the right thing." 

No one incident sparked the decision, he explained.  Rather, he and his employees were concerned that, during Black Lives Matter protests in the city, officers were using the bikes to block Black Lives Matter demonstrators.

On Wednesday, when Black announced the decision, Mellow Johnny's was in the second year of a five-year contract with the police department, which has more than 150 bicycle patrol officers in its downtown area police command.   The shop's action follows similar moves in the industry.  BikeCo, the North American distributor of Fuji bicycles, suspended sales to police forces in June, citing the use of bikes as weapons in protest marches.  That move is significant because Fuji had been one of the major bicycle suppliers to police forces in the United States.

"We are not anti-police," Mellow Johnny's post continued. "We believe our local police will protect us from the threats we are receiving right now" on social media.  Thankfully, there have also been messages of support--which, I suppose, isn't too surprising, given Austin's reputation as a "progressive" community--and the sense of fairness and justice I have seen in cyclists throughout my decades of riding and working in shops.