When Is It A Motorcycle?

The other day, during a ride in Queens and Brooklyn, I detoured to the Ridgewood Reservoir.  Because the loop around it is flat, I can ride around it a few time and add a few kilometers/miles to my ride without trying.  (I recently learned that the loop is 1.2 miles, or about .7 kilometers:  longer than I thought it is!) I was enjoying myself on a sunny, breezy afternoon when I made the turn near the Brooklyn side.  There, two young men on ebikes without pedal assists whipped around the curve.  One of them popped a wheelie and veered to his left-my right.  I had almost no room to maneuver:  I was well near the right edge of the lane and, even if I could have cut in front of him without colliding, I almost surely would have hit, or been hit by, the other guy on eBike, a cyclist riding in the opposite direction, or a group of people walking with a dog.

The guys on eBikes were going as fast, it seemed, as the car traffic on the nearby Jackie Robinson Parkway. Lately, I've wondered whether those bikes seem faster because I'm getting older and slower.  But that experience--and a couple of reports that have come my way--show me that those machines are indeed getting faster and because prohibitions against them on bike and pedestrian lanes and speed limits are never enforced (if indeed they exist), too many riders seem to feel no compunction about endangering other people.

Folks like David Rennie in Park City,Utah are having similar experiences to mine on bike lanes and hiking trails. In a letter to the Park Record,  he says that allowing such bikes on trails is "an accident waiting to happen" and can "see no reason why throttle-controlled e-bikes should not be treated exactly the same as a petrol-driven bike, and subject to the same licensing and use rules."

From Electric Bike Action

In another Park Record letter to the editor, Mike Miller echoed his concerns and concluded that throttle-driven bikes without pedal assists are really "motorcycles" and should be treated as such.

Winter Vista On A Sunday Afternoon Ride

Yesterday the temperature rose into the balmy (at least for those of you in places like North Dakota) 20's, or around -5C.  So I went for an afternoon ride which, among other things, zigzagged the border between Brooklyn and Queens.

The border between the US and Canada has a Peace Garden.  Probably the closest thing our interborough boundary has is Highland Park, with the Ridgewood Reservoir as its centerpiece.

Somehow it feels even more like a reflection of deep winter than all of the displays or any day-after-snowstorm vista in this city.

I usually see at least a couple of cyclists there. Yesterday I was riding solo, though I saw a fair number of people walking their dogs, or with each other. Some looked happy to be there, but others eyed me, and other strollers, with suspicion, as if we'd intruded on their own private Idaho, if you will.

I can't say I blame them.  I know I've referred to Highland Park as our local Montmartre for its location on the highest point in the area and the views it offers.  Of course, it doesn't have the onion-domed cathedral (my favorite building in Paris) and I reckon that fewer people visit the park in a year than visit one of the most iconic places in the City of Light in a year.

It's kind of ironic that in writing about it on this blog, I'm more likely to tip off someone in Belleville or Berlin than the folks in Bensonhurst or Belle Harbor about a place where I go for a quick ride and the cheapest form of therapy (along with  a cuddle from Marlee) I know about.

  

Right At The Cemetery, Nature Takes Over

In some parts of New England, upstate New York and the upper Midwest, nature is slowly reclaiming formerly industrial areas.  That makes sense when you realize that the Industrial Revolution first reached--and left-- the United States in those regions.

An afternoon ride I took on Friday reminded me of that.  I took a right at a cemetery on the Brooklyn-Queens border and followed a new link in the Brooklyn-Queens Greenway to a landscape that wouldn't have looked out of place in an Andrew Wyeth painting.

The Ridgewood Reservoir was built in the middle of the 19th Century, when Brooklyn was still an independent city.  Civic and business leaders believed economic growth had stalled because the Croton Reservoir, which supplied New York City, wasn't adequate, the Bronx River was too difficult to access and there weren't enough natural lakes and ponds on Long Island.  So water was diverted from nearby streams to the reservoir's location, on a butte that served as a lookout during the American Revolution and today offers fine views of cemeteries, the ocean (along the Rockaways) and the Manhattan skyline.  You might think of it as our version of Montmartre, without the cathedral or artists' studios.

The reservoir would see less and less use as a water source and would be decommissioned and drained during the 1980s.  Since then, various stages of forest have grown around the reservoir, and the area around it--Highland Park--has become a spot for in-the-know bird-watchers, hikers, runners and cyclists.  I say "in the know" because it's in an area not visited by tourists (or the sort of people who leave Manhattan only to go to Europe, or the hipsters who leave Williamsburg only to go to their parents' houses on Long Island). 

One day, it might become a full-grown woodland--and, if the Reservoir retains its water, you'll get a glimpse of the old Times Square.  I don't mean TS before Disney turned it into a mall:  I mean what it, and most of New York City, looked like before Europeans took it from the Lenape natives.  As long as the path is still there, I'm sure it will offer a relaxing ride, as it does now.