Destroying What They “Didn’t See”

At the end of my block—where Crescent Street meets Broadway in Astoria, Queens—there is a row of on-street bike racks.

Like other such racks in New York and a few other cities, it’s at the end of a parking lane that’s supposed to serve as a “barrier” between the bike and traffic lane.  Too often, though, drivers turn it into a passing lane.  On one occasion, a ride-share driver barged into the Crescent Street lane a couple of SUV lengths behind me, blaring his horn and his mouth. I have seen other incidents like it.

That is the reason I don’t use those racks:

I don’t know whether the driver who “taco’ed” that rear wheel and frame did so deliberately. If they did and were caught, I can imagine their defense: “I didn’t see it!”

That is what a driver in Portland claimed after causing this:

That bike was its owner’s sole means of transportation. Worse yet, she—Cole—witnessed its destruction from across the street. In talking to the driver who made the claim she deemed “dubious,” she noticed  that his SUV, which took out a whole row of bikes in addition to hers, had no license plates. She got his name and contact information and contacted the police who, not surprisingly, didn’t seem interested.

She would appreciate monetary help in buying a new bike. I have to wonder whether the owner of the wrecked bike at the end of my block could replace it. I don’t have to wonder, however, about this: whether other bikes have met untimely ends in supposedly “safe” bike parking corrals.

If you want to contribute to Cole’s next bike, you could send to her CashApp account—$colesodcash—or to Jonathan Maus, the etditor and publisher of Bike Portland, who will forward it to her.

(The first two photos are mine. The others are from Bike Portland.)

Bike Parking For Business And Democracy

Warning:  I am going to complain.  And I will quote someone who shares my complaint.  So if you want a feel-good piece, skip this one--though, I promise, it's entirely related to you if you do practical cycling of any sort.

Yesterday was the deadline to file for an absentee ballot in New York.  Even so, there weren't many people at the Board of Elections and the woman at the desk, in an orange blazer that matched her lipstick, was friendly and helpful.  We even shared a chuckle when she asked, "Can I help you?" and I replied, "Well, if you know somoene between 45 and 65; race, religion and gender not important, who likes bicycling, the arts, reading and writing and cats--not necessarily in that order.  Or, a winning lottery number would be nice."

"Of course, I wouldn't blame you if you kept them for yourself."

I started to fill out my application when I saw that I was using a red pen.  I brought my application to her. "Oh,  no problem," she said.  I explained that, as someone who teaches, I associate red pens with correcting mistakes. "Don't worry, you didn't make any," she quipped.

The whole process didn't take more than five minutes.  And the ride there, which I stretched out with a circuitous route that took me around Forest and Flushing Meadow Parks and into a couple of quiet neighborhoods tourists never see, was pleasant even on what turned into a hot, humid day.  My complaint about yesterday involves my arriving at the Board of Elections.

It takes up the 11th floor of a building that stands on the opposite side of the Van Wyck Expressway from the Queens County Courthouse.  The Queens Boulevard block on which it stands is short and its sidewalk too narrow for the subway station and stands for three buses that stop there--or for the stores, coffee and sandwich shops and hair salon that occupy it.  So, it's like the stereotype of a Manhattan street you see in the movies or on TV where, the moment yo set foot on it, you're competing for space.

You have three choices for parking your bike:  three sign posts for the buses. So, if you lock up to any of them, you'll get dirty looks from the people who crowd around them, waiting for their ride.  And there's a good chance that you'll have to thread your way through those throngs of people waiting for their bus when you go to retrieve your bike.

When I can't find parking on the block where I'm running an errand, I look around the corner.  Unfortunately, the situation was even worse on the side streets:  There wasn't anything to which one could lock a bike.

While the are more bike parking "donuts" available throughout the city, they're found mainly in downtown Manhattan and the Brooklyn and Queens neighborhoods directly across the river.  They're scarce or non-existence further from what I call Linus-Land, where the young and affluent ride stylish-looking bikes to the kinds of work spaces or cafes one sees in design magazines--in other words, locales like the Queens Board of Elections.

The Board of Elections is on the 11th floor of this tower.

Of course, difficulties in parking a bike are not limited to Queens or any other part of New York City.  Sharon Bailey recounts similar experiences in and around Buffalo and Niagara Falls, where she lives.  She works remotely and rides for transportation as well as recreation.  There are few dedicated bike racks and while she can find railings at or near some of her regular destinations--or can wheel her bike up to a counter--she and her partner can't ride to some of their favorite al fresco dining spots.

Sharon Bailey

Some merchants on Queens Boulevard protested the bike lane, believing that it would take away parking and thus hurt business.  I don't know whether that's happened, but it seems that bike parking facilities would probably help.  They should think about cyclists like Ms. Bailey and her partner who would patronize their businesses.  Oh, and cities should consider folks like me who are riding their bikes to register to vote--or, of course, to vote.

Build It And...They Won't Park?

Anti-bike folks like few things more than an "I told you so!" moment.  

An example is when some piece of bicycle "infrastructure" is built and cyclists don't use it because it's useless or unsafe.  Last month, I wrote about a bike lane in Chicago that raised motorists' ire because nobody was pedaling on it.  Like too many other lanes, it begins and ends in seemingly random places--what I call a bike lane from "nowhere to nowhere" and riding it is less safe, especially when entering, exiting or making turns, than riding in traffic.

Something similar could be said for bicycle parking "facilities."  Usually, they are racks of some sort or another by a curb or building.  During the past few years, some workmanlike but useful racks have been installed on New York City sidewalks.  They don't allow for more than a bike or two at a time (five or six, perhaps, in the bike shelters), but they do the job.

They are better than too many other bike parking facilities I've seen.  An old workplace of mine had an old-school grid rack on its grounds.  It was removed because only one person was using it. (Guess who?)  Granted, fewer people were cycling to work in those days.  But I had to wonder whether some thought about riding their bikes to our workplace but were deterred by the pitiful parking provision.

Well, even today, there are racks as bad, or even worse, the one at my old job.  

It's been a while since I've heard "Up Against The Wall!"  I hope not to hear it again.  But I just might, if I ever have to park my bike in Melbourne, Australia:

Of course, the Aussies have an excuse:  The Brits sent their prisoners there.  But, it seems, their former colonizers still know a thing or two about confinement:

Maybe this Macclesfield contraption is an example of that dry British humor we don't get on this side of the pond. 

Speaking of dry, this rack in Atlanta looks more suited to making toast than parking bikes:

If nobody uses those racks, will they be removed?  Or will they be kept just so cyclists won't use them--and give drivers one more reason to be pissed off.

 

 

Space

After my trip to Italy and writing about bike lane controversies in Brooklyn, I got to thinking about my sense of space, as a cyclist.

It took a couple of days of riding in Rome to acclimate myself to the ways drivers behave around cyclists.  I can say the same for Paris and France, but I had an even more acute sense of how drivers' and cyclists' sense of shared space is different while in the land of Michelangelo and Caravaggio.

You can ride through one of those traffic circles, or any other intersection, and a motorist might be a gear-cable's breadth from you.  Yet you would be in less danger than if you'd had a wider berth--or even riding in a "protected" bike lane--in most US cities.  

Italian--particularly Roman--drivers are often called "crazy".  Yet they not only are more aware of two-wheeled vehicles (including Vespas and motorcycles, as well as bicycles) than their American counterparts, they are more accustomed to driving in--and sharing--really tight spaces.

I was reminded of this when looking, again, at this street in Florence, between the Ponte Vecchio and Uffizi Gallery.

It's about half as wide as most sidewalks in New York!  Yet I actually saw a car and bike pass through it at the same time.  And the driver didn't honk his/her horn!

I also couldn't help but to notice the condition of the bicycles parked next to it.  If they'd been locked to a New York City parking meter or sign post, this could have been their fate:

Will This Bike Be Thawed Out?

The temperature has not reached the freezing point in more than a week.  That might not have been unusual last month, but here in New York, the daytime high temperatures start inching above 5 degrees C (40F) in the middle of February.  

Tomorrow the temperature might reach 1C and a high of about 7C (45F) is expected, with rain, on Sunday.  Will it be enough to free this bike parked down the street from my place?:

I've seen the bike, but not its rider or owner, around the neighborhood.  It's been parked in this spot ever since the first significant snowstorm we had nearly three weeks ago.

If we get more snow--or if the temperature drops and Sunday's rain turns to ice--will this bike be glacially encased until some future archaeologist finds it?  Or, perhaps, some life form from some distant galaxy will chance upon it. What would such a being make of it?

Of course, being the bike aficionada that I am, I wonder whether the bike originally came with its dropped bars or rat-trap pedals.  I couldn't see the name badge on it, but I'm almost entirely sure it's an English three-speed. Time was when bikes like this one were sometimes equipped with dropped bars and road pedals--and even alloy rims and brakes.  Such machines were known as "club bikes".  

How would my hypothetical archaeologist of the future--or visitor from another part of the universe--know such things?  I'm guessing that if someone could make it here from someplace far away from Earth, he or she would have a database far more advanced than Google or our libraries.  So, for that matter, might a yet-unborn archaeologist.

Oh, dear.  If I'm thinking about such things, that's proof I need to get on my bike more.  I'll do that soon, I hope!

Daring It All To Fall

Now you are going to see one reason to have a "beater" bike:

Some would argue it's not fair to treat a bike that way.  Perhaps.  Certainly, I would never leave a cat or dog in the cold, snow, sleet, slush and rain.

Yes, that's a description of the weather we've had since just a few minutes after midnight.  How can I pinpoint the start of the storm so accurately?, you ask.  

You see, after doing things I had to do yesterday and hearing dire predictions for today's weather, I figured I'd take a ride, however late the hour.  Actually, I got on Tosca at about 10:30 and got home just as light flakes were eddying to the ground. 
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Almost as soon as I walked in the door, the flakes turned to needles of frozen precipitation and thus were more affected by the force of gravity.  Now that's one kind of weather condition in which I won't ride if I need not.

In other posts, I've written about "playing chicken with the rain".  This time, I rode as if I were daring every kind of precipitation Nature could have thrown at (or, more precisely, dropped on) me. I still have enough childish mischieviousness to revel in last night's little victory.

Hoist On An Old Parking Meter

New York is a city full of creative people.  I would argue that the most creative of all now live in Queens.  Of course, that's not an unbiased opinion, coming from someone who has lived in Astoria for 12 years. ;-)

Our creativity extends to all sorts of things, including our bikes.  Some folks are creative in getting their bikes to work:  They install or remove all sorts of things even the most imaginative mechanics would never dream of!  Others are creative in painting, accessorizing or decorating their bikes.  

Still others are creative in how we park our bikes.  There have been times when I've locked my steed to things I never could have imagined it could be locked to.  But I don't think that even I, in all of my ingenuity (ha, ha) ever did anything like this:

How does the bike feel about being in such a compromising position?

All right, I'll restore whatever dignity it has left, being exposed to the elements and all:

This was right around the corner from my apartment.  Was I being a good neighbor in exposing this bike's plight?

Even Creepier Than A Thief In The Night

The day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.

So are we warned in Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians.

A thief in the night is certainly cause for worry.  After all, I'm sure I'm not the only cyclists who's lost his or her steed to one.  I've also lost parts on bikes I've parked overnight in the path of some random crook.

As poignant as Paul's metaphor is, I have to wonder what he'd have said about another nocturnal perp.

The guy, who was caught on video, was walking around the Times Square area with a bag of feces.  (Back in the day, shadowy characters prowled the area with bags full of other things, some of which they sold to passerby!)  In the wee hours of one morning last week, he smeared the contents of his sack over the seats of Citibikes parked in the dock across the street from the Al Hirschfeld theatre, where "Kinky Boots" has been playing.

Worst of all, some people actually took the bikes without checking the seats.

This incident gives new meaning to the decals that have been applied to some of the city's rental bikes:

When I heard about the perp, who hasn't been caught, I imagined a(n) (over)zealous police officer stopping him and ordering him to open the contents of his bag! 
 

Sheltered From The Ruins Of 9/11

As you aware (I'm sure), today marks thirteen years since the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center were destroyed.

There's nothing I can say about the terrible events of that day that hasn't already been said, except for this:  Whatever the truth about it is, it probably won't be known during my lifetime.

That said, I'm writing to point out something that's on display at the 9/11 Memorial Museum, which opened in May.  (The Memorial opened on the ten-year anniversary in 2011.)

The bicycle rack, and bicycles attached to it, were found mostly intact on Vesey Street.  Ironically, Five World Trade Center, a low-rise office building just to the south of the Twin Towers, shielded the bikes and rack from the destruction that befell the Twin Towers.

Only one rider stepped forward to reclaim his bicycle.  To this day, the identities--and fates--of the owners of the other bikes are not known.  Given that the Towers were struck by Flight 11 at 8:46 am, one or more of the owners may well have been a messenger making that day's first delivery--or a restaurant delivery worker bringing some executive his or her coffee and bagel.