Happy (?) Fourth

 This morning I pedaled out to City Island on Tosca, my Mercian fixie.  Although humid, the air pleasantly balanced early summer with early morning: just enough warmth with just enough briskness.

We had our Pride festivities, and the end of Pride Month, on Sunday.  Still, I was surprised, as I have been during my most recent rides to the Island, at how many rainbow flags I saw draped from window sills and door frames, fluttering ever so lightly in the sea breeze.

Riding back along the Pelham Parkway path, I had a terrifying thought:  This might be the last Fourth of July I see those flags—or that the Stars and Stripes has any meaning, if it still does.

When people wished me “Happy Fourth,” I felt almost sick—and not because it’s my birthday and I’m another year older.  Rather, I am scared because of the Supreme Court’s ruling on Monday.  It says that the President cannot be held criminally accountable for “official” acts while in office.

Photo by Craig Hudson for the Washington Post 

So what constitutes an “official” act? Is it anything the President says it is? 

Some—including Justice Sonia Sotomayor in her dissent—have pointed out that Trump, if elected, could actually carry out his boast/threat to send Navy Seal Team 6 to assassinate his political rivals. He could, therefore, foment violence that would make January 6, 2021 look like a summer fair.

I have two very personal reasons to fear Trump becoming, in essence, Louis XIV. During his reign, haters of all kinds were emboldened to carry out their hatred on anyone they see as a “threat,” including transgender people. The violence has continued and probably intensify as Trump and his allies repeal laws and policies that aim to bring about equality—and pass new legislation to make life more difficult, even impossible, for us.

Oh, and don’t forget that he hates bicycles and cyclists. Would he target us directly or use fossil fuel companies by giving them tax breaks and allowing “eminent domain” so they could tear up bike lanes and other infrastructure to, say, build more pipelines?

I hope that I won’t have to feel so anxious next Fourth. In other words, I am hoping this country is still the country I was taught to believe it is—if indeed it still is, or ever was, that country.

Independence Today!

Happy Fourth!

Today is American Independence Day.  

You might say that on this date last year, I celebrated a kind of  independence:  I took my first ride after the crash that landed me in Westchester Medical Center for a weekend.

Today, I plan to do a somewhat longer ride before meeting friends for a barbecue.

Oh, and it just happens to be my birthday.  I won't reveal my age.  All I'll say is that I'm not about to change the name of this blog.

Enjoy!

Photo by Aimee Ferre

 

My Age

Je suis le soleil.

I am the law.

Believe it or not, Donald Trump didn't utter the first of the above declarations, mainly because he doesn't speak French. (He barely speaks English.)  But if he could--or if he had any flair for figurative language--he would. "I am the sun" would sum up the way he sees himself.

He probably wishes he could make the second statement.  Sometimes I think he hired Rudy Giulani for the express purpose of finding a loophole in the Constitution that would allow him to appropriate such power unto himself.

Now I am going to say something just as audacious and ridiculous--and something El Cheeto Grande has fever-dreams about saying:  I am this country.

How is that?, you ask.  Well, today is Independence Day here in the US. Or, as some people like to say, it's this nation's birthday.

It's also my birthday.  And I am identifying myself with this American nation because, for the first time, I feel as old.

My wounds are healing and I have to go for another MRI in a week.  Hopefully, it won't tell me I'm not as well as I feel because, well, I'm used to feeling better than I feel now.

Fourth of July Bike Ride, 1934

I might get on my bike today.  If it doesn't leave me in more pain--and if I don't crash--I'm sure I'll feel younger, or at least better.

If only a "cure" for this country, or this world, were so simple!

I'm sorry for whining.

The Fourth

In France, they have le quatorze.  Here in the US of A, we have The Fourth.

It's what we call our Independence Day.  Today, though, when I hear "the Fourth", I can't help but to think of the Amendment--which, like so much else in the Constitution, is in peril.

But The Fourth is also my birthday.  And this year it just happens to be a round-number year for me.  I'll let you guess which one! 

For the occasion, I gave myself a gift--which actually came to me all the way back in March.  I am referring, of course, to Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special.


You could say, though, that I got an unexpected gift when the bike I mentioned yesterday--a 1973 Mercian King of Mercia--showed up on eBay.  In my size.  And the seller dropped the price.

And I'm going to meet friends.  I am lucky indeed.  Now, to do something about my country!

On The Fourth Of July

From Ladyfleur.bike

Happy US Independence Day!

I hope that this isn't the last year we'll be able to use the word "independence" in reference to this day.  With the Orange One in the Oval Office, I have to wonder just how independent we'll be next year.  Or whether we'll be here at all.

On a lighter note:  Oliver Stone made a film about me.  Really!  At least, the title applies to me.  

I am thankful that I could come to the convictions I share with Ron Kovic without having to come to them the way he did.  

Next Fourth is a round-number birthday for me.  And the Mercian Vincitore Special I've ordered is the gift I plan to give myself--and ride!

Happy Fourth Of July. Be Safe!

I am going to share a secret with you:  It's my birthday.  Really!  

Oh, yeah, it's also the birthday of the country in which I was born, raised and have spent most of my life.  Whether or not you celebrate--or whether it's just another day wherever you are, I hope you enjoy it.  And, please, don't try this:

From World of Bikes, Iowa City

I mean, maybe I don't do enough night riding. But don't you think that's going just a bit far to get get a good bicycle lighting system--one that will actually allow you to be seen by drivers?  

Happy Fourth Of July!

Happy Fourth of July, a.k.a. US Independence Day!

There have been many, many bikes, accessories and articles of bike clothing adorned with the American Flag--or, at least, its color scheme.  (I wasn't about to spell "color" "colour" in a Fourth of July post!)  Many, of course, are cheesy or tacky.  But some are quite nice.

One is this US National Track team bicycle from the 1990s:

From Doobybrain

I think it would look good in almost any environment. But whoever took the photo really did the bike--and its setting--justice.  I love the way the "smoke" seems to come out of the front wheel in the mural.

Ironically, that photo was taken in Williamsburg, Brooklyn:  the home of the "hipster fixie".  Somehow, though, I don't think that bike was ridden by any hipster.

Anyway...Enjoy the day--and wish me a happy birthday.  (Yes, our Founding Fathers seceded from the Crown just to be sure my birthday would be a national holiday.  It says that somewhere in the Constitution, I think.)

A Short Trip for the Fourth

Today I just barely got on my bike:  About a mile to the barbecue at Millie's house, and a bit more coming home.  I surely consumed many times the number of calories I burned up today.   But, hey, isn't that what barbecues are for?  


And they had a cake for my birthday:

Actually, all of those colors were on a plastic piece that covered the cake.  Underneath, everything was chocolate:  creamy cocoa frosting over a dark devil's food cake.   


It's not the sort of food one finds at training tables.  Then again, although I'm working at getting myself into better shape, I'm not training for anything:  I simply want cycling and better conditioning to be facts of my life.   A wise old philosopher once told me, "Life ain't no rehearsal."  I rode yesterday; I will ride again; I have no goal (at least as a cyclist) but to ride my bike again.


Plus, I was happy to be with Millie and John, their kids and grandkids, and Millie's friend Catherine, again.  This day last year marked the first time since I moved to Queens that I didn't spend the Fourth with them.   Millie decided not to have the barbecue because I couldn't make it.  She saw me off that day when I was leaving for Trinidad.


That day, I knew I wouldn't be cycling again for a long time.  My mother said, only half-jokingly, that she knew I really wanted to go for the operation because I was willing to give up, in essence, a season of cycling for it.   But I knew that I wasn't so much giving up a season of cycling as I was embarking on a journey.  Even the riders of the Tour de France have to get off their bikes sometimes; I knew--or at least hoped--that when I got back on mine, I would be on the tour, if you will, that only I could take.  At least some of it would be on my bicycle, I believed.


After eating barbecued chicken, shish kebabs, corn and a few other things one might expect to consume at a barbecue, I took the long way home.  I still haven't mastered the fine art of taking photos while on the bike.  But, here is a shot I took just outside Rainey Park, which is on the East River:

Perhaps one day I'll get it right.  Until then, it's a journey and I'm on it.  At least today's segment, as short as it was, fulfilled me:   I was happy to go where I went and happy to return.