Also, because it's in Florida--specifically, Northern Florida, which is about as Southern, culturally, as Alabama or Georgia--that traffic includes more than its share of pickup trucks. Now, I don't mean to pick on pickup truck drivers in particular, but I can understand how they, because of their vehicles' size and potential for speed, feel--especially with those wide marine vistas--that the road is theirs. And, like SUVs, pickup trucks offer their drivers poor sight lines and even more "blind spots" than smaller vehicles.
In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
I am Justine Valinotti.
20 April 2023
Whoever Is At Fault, Blame The Cyclist
Also, because it's in Florida--specifically, Northern Florida, which is about as Southern, culturally, as Alabama or Georgia--that traffic includes more than its share of pickup trucks. Now, I don't mean to pick on pickup truck drivers in particular, but I can understand how they, because of their vehicles' size and potential for speed, feel--especially with those wide marine vistas--that the road is theirs. And, like SUVs, pickup trucks offer their drivers poor sight lines and even more "blind spots" than smaller vehicles.
19 November 2022
She Survived Kyiv—But Not Bethesda
In 2020, I crashed and was “doored” barely three months apart. A few people asked whether I’d give up cycling. A couple said I should. But, as I pointed out, I had been a dedicated cyclist for nearly half a century, with no mishaps that caused serious injuries, before those experiences. Other people drove for less time and had more serious accidents but didn’t give up driving.
A cycling calamity cost Dan Langenkamp even more than both of my crashes cost me, because the price he paid is permanent.
He was a press attaché and spokesperson for the U.S. Embassy in Kyiv. His wife, Sarah, was a diplomat. They cycled in and around the city with their son, to work and school and for pleasure. Cycling had been such a part of their lives that Sarah gave him a bicycle with the words “It’s been a great ride!” painted on it.
Along with other Americans, they were evacuated from Ukraine when Vladimir Putain’s, I mean Putin’s, forces invaded the country. They returned to Bethesda, Maryland and worked in nearby Washington, DC. They continued their bicycle-centered lifestyle until August, when Dan and Sarah were riding home from an open house at their kids’ elementary school.
A flatbed truck made à right turn. The driver “wasn’t looking,” Dan said. He made it home but she didn’t. That truck “crushed” Sarah. He used that word to convey the “violence “ of what happened. “It was as if the war followed us,” he lamented.
He’s since left his State Department job to advocate for “road safety.” He understands that agitating for “bike safety “ or “driver awareness” is not enough. Better road and lane design is also necessary. So are safety features on trucks, he notes.
He is beginning his campaign today, with a bike rally which includes a ride that will re-trace Sarah’s last.
People in his life have asked him whether he thinks about not riding anymore. Some have implored him to do so. Of course, he won’t. Giving up cycling because of bad, careless or malicious drivers, he insists, would be “like changing your life because of terrorists.”
Mary Louise Kelly did a sensitive interview with Dan that aired yesterday:
31 August 2022
She's Recovering, And I'm Glad
One way I know an artist is really good is that I look at, listen to or read their work even if it's in a genre I don't particularly like. One example is Hank Williams. I don't categorically dislike country music, but I can't say I'm a fan of it generally. I do, however, own CDs of Hank's work because he had an expressive voice and did work that, to me, is clearly art.
Musically, I would also put Amy Grant in the same category. I'm definitely not a fan of Christian rock, but I appreciate her skill as a songwriter and singer.
That is not the only reason, though, that I am happy that she has, seemingly, recovered so quickly and well from her recent bike crash--and is scaling back her touring and recording schedule. As someone who has had two crashes (in half a century of dedicated cycling) that landed me in emergency rooms--both within four months, two years ago--I wish anyone who's been sideswiped, doored or otherwise swept into a crash or other mishap that resulted in injury.
I know that some Christians will say she's "gone secular" and that others categorically reject anything with a message of religion, or even belief. I do, however, appreciate her skills as a songwriter and vocalist.
As a cyclist, though, I am glad she is doing well--and hope that her accident doesn't deter her from getting back on her bike.
28 July 2022
A Chain Of Neglect
Police barricade tapes are bright yellow. Construction-site cones are orange. The bollards used to separate bike lanes from the street are finished in similar hues, or white.
Those color choices are not just fashion statements: They are made for visibility. It's pretty difficult for most people to claim they didn't see those tapes, cones or bollards.
On the other hand, you don't have to be color-blind to miss chains--which are almost always dull gray-- drawn across roadways or bike lanes. This is especially true in low-light conditions, such as night, the beginning or end of day, inclement weather, and under aqueducts, railroad trestles and highway overpasses.
Such chains are used to temporarily block off streets or paths for events like street fairs or for construction. Unfortunately, cities and other jurisdictions that place them often forget to remove them when the event is done or construction work is finished. Worse, an unsuspecting cyclist or scooter-rider who is paying attention to other road hazards can easily miss them.
The chain that entangled a cyclist--and his bike after the crash. Photo sent by reader of Bike Portland. |
That is what happened to one unfortunate cyclist in Portland, Oregon. He was riding along North Holladay Street when he passed under the Interstate-5 overpass when he was suddenly entangled in a chain and thrown over his handlebars. He suffered significant injuries to his arm and both wrists. He also incurred a minor impact to his head that, probably, could have been worse had he not been wearing his helmet.
The street where he had his mishap, while not as popular for cycling as another nearby street, is nonetheless part of a designated bicycle route. The intersection is adjacent to the Oregon Convention Center. So, according to Bike Portland editor Jonathan Maus, the chain may have been installed to cordon off the street for an event. But, as he points out, that event was long over by the time the unlucky cyclist crashed.
I think that the neglect that led to the cyclist's injuries may have been a result of the auto-centric mentality of city planners. A chain, debris or some other obstruction--like a sewer grate with wide slats that parallel the curb or divider-- might be mere inconveniences to cars, trucks or buses, but can snag bike tires--or cyclists themselves
I hope that cyclist has a swift and thorough recovery--and, as Maus recommends, city or other government agencies in charge of roadways, bike lanes and other infrastructure pay more attention to seemingly-small details--and basic maintenance.
22 June 2022
Held To Different Standards
What is your name? What is today's date? Who is the President?
I passed the test: I answered all three questions correctly, as much as it pained me to utter Donald Trump's name in response to the third.
So who administered that exam? A doctor in Westchester Medical Center, after the worst crash I've suffered in half a century (!) of cycling. My mishap, which "totaled" Arielle, my first Mercian bike, also included a face-plant. So that doctor was testing my cognition as a first step to determining whether I'd suffered any brain damage.
I thought about that after hearing that President Joe Biden fell off his bike while speding the weekend at his family's retreat in Delaware. According to reports, the President when he came to a stop, his foot got caught in a toe clip, which caused him to tumble.
President Biden, after falling off his bike. Photo by Sarah Silbiger, for the New York Times.
He didn't appear to suffer any injuries or require medical attention. Instead of doctors and nurses, reporters surrounded him as he picked himself up. So, their "test" was a bit different from the one I "passed." Before continuing his ride, he answered questions about--are you ready for this?--tariffs on Chinese goods and gun control legislation.
Hmm...If my doctor had asked those questions, I wonder how he would've assessed my condition.
04 May 2022
Intoxicated Driver Runs Her Down, She's Blamed
An old civil-rights activist, now gone, once told me a joke she'd heard about the state in which she grew up: A couple of sherriff's deputies find the body of a Black man on a river bank. His hands and feet are tied, and there's a noose around his neck.
"Dang!," one exclaimed. "They've sure got some strange ways of commitin' suicide."
That joke is, of course, a commentary on race relations. But it also points to something that I've come to believe. Call me a cynic, but I think too many police officers' first impulse in any situation is to blame the victim.
Such a reaction, I think, has several sources. An obvious one is that constables tend to be suspicious of everyone. For some, it might be innate, but for others, I'm sure it comes from dealing with the worst people and worst moments. Another, I think, is police training: They are taught to be ready for anything and everything and, because of policing culture, they can't or don't understand why other people aren't prepared for something they couldn't have foreseen. So, they come to believe, if they didn't before they became officers, that if something happens to you, you must have done something wrong.
There is something else that, in some situations, can cause law enforcement officers to blame the victim: their ignorance of the law. Such was the case of Obianuju Osuegbo. In August 2020, when she was 17 years old, she was riding her bicycle home in Barrow County, just east of Atlanta. A driver struck and killed her.
Obianuju Osuegbo |
The Georgia State Patrol's Collision Reconstruction Team blamed Osuegbo for her death. Their reasons? Her bike didn't have a light on the rear. And she wasn't wearing reflective clothing or riding on the right side of the road.
On their face, those reasons could help to establish fault with the teenager, but wouldn't be enough, by themselves, to affix blame. (At least, that's my guess. I'm not a lawyer.) However, Bruce Hagen, the family's attorney, pointed out that state statutes say only that a bicycle must have a light only if it doesn't have reflectors--which Osuegbo's bike had.
About riding on the right side of the road: She was turning left, so she couldn't have been on either side of the road. Also, the law states, "vehicles which approach from the rear, any other vehicle or vehicles stopped or slowed to make a lawful turn shall be deemed to be following the purposes of this code section."
Hagen, who conducts bike law training for police officers, said that the responding officer and GSP team investigated the crash, but were unfamiliar with the Georgia laws. The officer and team, however, surely must have been familiar with another law because, well, pretty much every place in the Western world has it, in one form or another: the prohibition against Driving Under The Influence. The motor vehicle operator, Chrissy Rawlins (Is that a Georgia name, or what?) was high on multiple drugs, including methamphetamine and Valium when she ran into Osuegbo.
She was indeed charged with DUI and for endangering the welfare of her children, who were with her in the car. Hagen is seeking to have her charged with vehicular manslaughter.
He and Obanuju's mother, Pauline Osuegbo, say they will not stop until they get justice.
07 April 2022
Eric Boehlert's Last Ride
With his intense, knowing face, shock of hair at the top of his head and focused eyes behind black-framed glasses, he looked like a combination of a philosopher, Indigenous warrior, surgeon and professor.
He pretty much had to be all of those things to do what he became known for. Being a cyclist also helped, I'm sure. He biked around his hometown, where he "loved living," according to his wife and, she added, wore "protective clothing" and used lights when he rode at night.
I can well understand why he loved living in Montclair, New Jersey: It's about 25 miles from New York, my hometown, and has anything one would like about a city and a college town: cafes, galleries and an active cycling community, of which he was a part.
Note that I am talking about him in the past tense. On Monday night, he met his end while out for an evening ride. In one way, his ending was like that of too many cyclists in the Garden State, and elsewhere in the United States: He was struck by a motorized vehicle. But said vehicle wasn't a car, bus or truck: It was a New Jersey Transit commuter train that many of his fellow town residents take to and from New York or Newark.
I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd written or otherwise called attention to some hazard or another for cyclists or pedestrians, or for the need to provide the education and infrastructure that would make those modes of transportation and recreation safer and more enticing as an alternative to driving. I say that because he spent so much of his life exposing all sorts of hazards and, more important, what brings them into, and continues their, existence.
If your go-to source of (mis)information is Faux, I mean, Fox News, or even if you take everything printed in mainstream media (which, of course, does not include this blog!) at face value, you probably were not a fan of Eric Boehlert. While he was labeled, usually with justification, as "liberal" or "leftist," he was just as willing to take on the New York Times as OAN and even, at times, the publications for which he wrote and the programs on which he appeared. "We can't fix America if we can't fix the press" was not just a catchy sound-bite; it was his operating philosophy.
As his evening ride was part of his life, to and at the end. I, and his many fans--and fellow cyclists--extend our sympathies to his wife, Tracy Breslin and his kids, Jane and Ben.
26 March 2022
¿Por Qué El Avetruz Cruzó La Calle?
Every once in a while, an animal crosses my path while riding. Usually, the creature is a cat or dog who darts away when I get within a few feet. When I've ridden in Florida, little green lizards played "chicken" with me as I rode along the paths and sidewalks. In Cambodia, macaques sat guard on the side of the road as I pedaled between the temples of Siem Reap. And in Laos, an elephant stopped and stared at me and the couple with whom I rode in and around Luang Pr'bang.
Only once did I have a too-close encounter with an animal: On the return leg of a ride to Point Lookout, a cat (black, no less!) charged into my path and glanced off my front wheel--something I've never experienced before or since. I tumbled into the rear of a parked car and ended up with bruises and a couple of days' worth of pain, but no serious injury.
At least I was more fortunate than a woman in Argentina. As she pedaled into a Buenos Aires intersection, an ostrich--yes, you read that right--charged into her.
Now, since I have never encountered an ostrich that wasn't caged, I had no idea that they could run so fast: They can attain speeds of 70KPH (44MPH). One thing I know is that an ostrich is bigger than, say, a sparrow. So the force of that earthbound avian's impact knocked that woman, I am sure, harder than the cat who ran into my front wheel in Ozone Park.
So, perhaps not surprisingly, she got hurt worse than I did: The bird, after hobbling, toppling over and continuing on its way, left the woman with a broken wrist and a large cut on her head.
Argentine authorities haven't said what charges, if any will be leveled against the bird. For one thing, the Argentine speed limit is 40KPH (25MPH) in residential areas and 60KPH (37MPH) in urban areas. A review of videos could reveal whether the ostrich--which seems to have escaped from someone's home--was doing its "personal best." Oh, and I have to wonder what Argentinian law says about leaving the scene of an accident.
30 January 2022
Really, I Didn't Crash!
In nearly half a century of cycling, I have had two incidents that sent me to the emergency room. Both happened in 2020: I was "doored" in October after suffering a "face plant" in June. I hope not to endure anything like either of those accidents again (or something worse!). But if I do--and I'm not seriously hurt--this is how I'll explain it:
01 July 2021
Bilingual Bonehead Busted
I really try not to be a mean, vindictive person. I know it's wrong to wish harm to other people, but...
There are some people who really deserve to become candidates for the Darwin Awards. The problem is that instead of removing themselves from the gene pool, they harm others.
I am thinking in particular about the spectator who, with her back to the peloton, stepped into its path while holding a banner of bilingual banality: "Allez Opi-Omi." Allez, is of course, a French greeting or wish for good luck, while Opi-Omi is a German term of endearment for grandparents.
The latter part of the sign led authorties to believe that she was German or, perhaps, Alsatian or Swiss. Turns out, she's a local woman, and the gendarmes took her into custody in Landerneau, where the first stage of this year's Tour de France ended.
About 45 kilometers from the first stage finish line, her stupidity, vanity or egocentricity, depending on how you see her action, resulted in one of the worst crashes in recent Tour history. Eight riders were involved, and one, Marc Soler finished the stage but abandoned the race after fractures were found in both of his arms.
According to local law in Finistere, northewestern France, the woman could be fined 1500 Euros (about 1800 USD), provided that the crash doesn't cause the riders more than three months of inaction. She could face stiffer penalties, however, if individual riders take action against her. Soler says he might try to sue her, and Tour organizers say they're considering that option.
Whatever comes of their actions, the woman will have few, if any, rivals for sheer thoughtlessness. One can only hope that she doesn't pass on that trait.
05 June 2021
This May Have Been An Accident
Oh, no!
That was my reaction upon hearing that a former NBA player died as a result of a bicycle accident in Utah.
The news made me cringe on two levels. First of all, I thought immediately of Shawn Bradley, of whom I wrote in March. As he pedaled along a road near his St. George home, a driver struck him from behind and left him paralyzed, with a traumatic spinal cord injury. I was glad to hear he wasn't the former NBA player I heard about yesterday, though I don't envy his situation.
I wasn't happy, though, to learn of Mark Eaton's death from "an apparent bicycle accident" in Silver Creek. At first, I thought of Henry Grabar's Slate article reminding readers that what happened to Bradley--and incidents like it--are not "accidents," as they're often (mis)reported. According to the report I read, Eaton--who, like Bradley, played 12 NBA seasons and was best known as a shot-blocker--was found unconscious in the middle of a road near his home. Emergency medical personnel treated him and rushed him to a hospital, where he couldn't be saved.
Mark Eaton in 1985 |
The Utah Office of the Medical Examiner will try to determine the cause of death. There were no witnesses to whatever happened to Eaton , according to the Sheriff's Office, but authorities believe "no vehicle was involved."
If indeed "no vehicle was involved," it may well be that whatever befell Eaton was an accident. That, of course, doesn't make it any less terrible, any more than his status as a former NBA player makes his passing more tragic. One can only hope that whatever happened to him, he went with as little pain and suffering as possible, and with the memory of a good ride.
30 December 2020
Roy Wallack R.I.P.
One more day!
That's what remains, after today, of 2020. For many of us, this year can't end quickly enough. In addition to the pandemic, natural disasters and all of the other awful events of the world, it seems that so many people (at least of the ones I know) have suffered some tragedies, disasters or setbacks of one kind or another. Or we had plain and simple bad luck: After nearly half of century of cycling with no serious accidents (a wrecked bike and a few minor injuries), I was--in little more than three months' time--face-planted and doored.
The face-plant left me with head trauma that, fortunately, didn't result in permanent damage. I wish I could say the same for Arielle, the bike that started my Mercian obsession. The dooring didn't do much harm to Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic, but left me with a whole bunch of stitches, a strained muscle and sprained knee. I'm just starting to get my energy back.
Roy Wallack (right) with Gordon Wright during the 2008 TransRockies Run. |
Things could have been worse, though. On Saturday the 19th, Roy Wallack rode his mountain bike down a steep trail near Malibu, California. He took a fall--no one is sure of how or why, but friends who were riding with him say that it might have been caused by a medical issue. Whatever the circumstance, the fall resulted in Roy's head hitting a large rock.
His friends, an EMT and cardiologists who happened upon the scene performed CPR on him until a helicopter arrived. The rescuers' attempts to save him were for naught.
A terrible irony of that crash is that Wallack hired a personal trainer for his father who "has no disabilities and comes from a long line of centenarians" but whose "problem" was "obvious": the Easy Boy chair he "hadn't left.. in 30 years (except for Costco and cleaning up in the yard after the dogs)." The trainer called Wallach's 90-year-old father to urge him onto the treadmill as he's been housebound by COVID-19.
Roy, who intended to ride, run, swim and participate in other outdoor adventures on his way to becoming the latest in his family's line of centenarians, only made it to 64 years old. But his time was certainly a journey: While he didn't have the archetypal body of a cyclist or runner, he pedaled Paris-Brest-Paris and many other rides, ran marathons and participated in all manner of outdoor sports, sometimes competitively but more often for the adventure.
That is what made his writing--for publications such as Bicycling, Runners' World, Bicycle Guide and Outside; and in his books and the Los Angeles Times' Outdoor section--so engaging. He wrote the way he approached cycling, running and other outdoor activities: as an adventurer and enthusiast rather than as a "jock." He rarely wore lycra; in the baggy shorts he usually wore, wannabe racers might have seen him as a "Fred." To me, though, he embodied and expressed the essence of what makes cycling, running, hiking and other outdoor sports lifetime activities rather than games that can be experienced only as a spectator after one reaches a certain age.