Late Day, Late Spring : A Luxury And A Privilege

 Yesterday I packed a picnic lunch of Addeo’s bread, Delice de Bourgogne cheese and some nice, ripe cherries and hopped aboard Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear bike.

On about as pleasant an afternoon as one can hope to have, I spun down Creston and Walton Avenues to Yankee Stadium, where I crossed the Macombs Dam Bridge into Harlem.  Then I crisscrossed that iconic neighborhood to the Hudson River, where I picked up the Greenway and rode—with a breeze at my back, it felt more like sailing—down to the World Trade Center, where I took the PATH train to Jersey City.

After enjoying about half of my picnic along the waterfront, I zigzagged through modern office towers and charming row houses down to Bayonne*. A highway crosses over the line between it and Jersey City; a man I’ve seen before lives under it, in a tent, with a bicycle—it looks like a ‘90’s mountain bike—I’d seen on previous rides.  

The first time I saw him, his tent and his bike—probably a couple of years ago—I stopped and offered him food and money. He thanked me and refused both. I have been tempted to photograph him and his encampment because they seem to be as established there as the houses, apartments, stores and offices of the two cities he straddles. But I haven’t because I figure that if he’s refused my help, he wants his privacy. Could it be that he worries about being “exposed”—to authorities, or in general?

Anyway, after crossing the Bayonne Bridge, I rode along the North Shore to the ferry terminal.  After “rush” hour, boats run less frequently, and I just missed one.

Once I boarded and the boat pulled away from the dock, however, I wasn’t complaining.

Nice evening, isn’t it?,” a deckhand mused.

“It’s like we’re on a sunset cruise” I quipped. “And it’s free!”

“We take whatever little luxuries we can get,” he said. I nodded, feeling that not only was it a “little luxury;” it was a privilege.

An After-Work Ride Falls Into Sunset

The other day, I took Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic on an after-work ride in Jersey City, Bayonne and Staten Island.  

I just missed a Staten Island Ferry to Manhattan.  The day was Classic Fall—clear, cool and crisp and I’d brought a book I’ve been reading (yes, a real book—nothing digital!) so I didn’t mind the wait—12 minutes, as it turned out—for the next boat.

That delay was rewarding—in an aesthetic sense, anyway.  What I witnessed from the deck of that ferry boat made me wish that my camera were as old-school (i.e. with film) as my book. Or, better yet, that I had an easel and palette.

There hardly could have been  a better ending to a Classic Fall day—and ride.  Some people say autumn sunsets are the most beautiful of all. I wouldn’t argue with them.

After I disembarked in Battery Park, twilight flickered to my left as I pedaled by the South Street Seaport, across the Williamsburg Bridge and up through the neighborhood for which the bridge is named to my place in Astoria.

Where Am I? In My Favorite Season

What is your favorite time of year for cycling?

For me, the answer has varied throughout my life.  I guess it had a lot to do with my over-arching mood at that time in my life.  For example, I have loved Fall riding at different times for the colorful foliage, the sunset light that simmers into a chill, or just the melancholy (definition:  aesthetically sad) feeling. 

Right now, I might say the month of May because--ironically--because of its colors, which include many shades of purple.  But one thing I truly love is that there is more daylight with each day:  a trend that will continue until late in June, when Summer begins.

Those extra minutes and hours of daylight mean that even if I am busy during the morning and afternoon, I can take a ride late in the day.  I have lights, but I prefer to ride in daylight whenever I can.

Which I did yesterday.  After pedaling to the World Trade Center, I took the PATH train to Jersey City and rode down to Bayonne, where I crossed the bridge into Staten Island--and the Ferry.

I took these photos with my iPhone.  Depending on which way I turned, each was recorded as a different locality.  This one is recorded as "Bayonne"

and these are "Brooklyn"

Even this

which is every tourist's vision of the Manhattan skyline, is marked "Brooklyn."  I took all of those photos within a couple of minutes, from the ferry deck, and did nothing more than turn at a slightly different angle with each shot.

Ironically, I would ride through Brooklyn on my way home.

Connections In (And To) The CIty Of Brotherly Love

 If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that some of my pet peeves include New York's, and other US cities', follies in creating "bicycle infrastructure."  Often, it seems that those who conceive, plan, design and build bike lanes and other facilities haven't been on a bicycle since they got their driver's licenses, or at all.  

Evidence that I am not engaging in conspiracy theories or am simply a chronic complainer can be seen in the routing of bike lanes.  Too often, they put cyclists in more danger than they'd face while riding in traffic. They force cyclists to cross intersections where drivers--sometimes of buses and trucks--are making right turns in front of them.  Or they are simply poorly marked and maintained.

One of the hazards, which seems like a mere inconvenience to anybody who doesn't cycle, is the way some lanes begin or end seemingly out of the blue:  what I call the bike lanes from nowhere to nowhere.  When such a lane begins or ends abruptly--in some cases, in mid-block--motorists and cyclists alike are caught unawares, which probably does more than anything else to increase chances of a tragic encounter.

Those lanes from "nowhere to nowhere" also help to foster the attitude among non-cyclists that we're a bunch of entitled whiners engaging in a frivolous recreational activity.  While I do ride for recreation (or, more precisely, physical and mental health), I also ride for transportation.  So do many other riders in this city, and others:  They go to work or school,  visit friends and family members as well as museums and other venues, or the store, on their bikes.  Some might go a few blocks, but others--like me--venture beyond our neighborhoods and even our cities.

It must be said that I have been cycling for most of my life and in this city for about four decades.  I rode to school and work when none of my peers did; I pedaled through neighborhoods and towns when I was the only adult cyclist most residents had seen.  So, for me, the absence or presence of cycling "infrastructure" won't affect my decisions to ride or not.  

But, for a prospective, new or less-experienced cyclist, it might.  They might decide to pedal to their classrooms, workplaces or any other place they want or need to frequent if they felt there was a coherent system of bike lanes or other routes that could take them safely for all or much of their trip.  Not only would such a system allow them to ride with fewer worries about traffic, it would make navigating a route easier.

The Schuylkill River Trail

The Bicycle Coalition of Greater Philadelphia seems to understand as much.  That is why they have been working with the city's Circuit Trails network to fill in the "gaps" between some of the lanes within the City of Brotherly Love--and the communities surrounding it.  The stated goals of the program are 500 miles of trails by 2025 that will be--and this, to me, is the more important goal--that will be part of an integrated system.

Such a network, I believe, might entice some people who live in nearby suburbs--including a few, like Cherry Hill, across the Delaware river in New Jersey--to commute or take pleasure trips into the city by bicycle.  

A "Karen" Or Just A Jersey City Politican?

Over the years, I have cycled through Jersey City many times. On other occasions, I've also ridden there for some purpose, like work or a show, concert or other event.

But I've never ridden to Jersey City "just because."  I have long felt that it is one of the most bike-unfriendly places in the New York Metropolitan Area.  For one thing, the few bike lanes are even less practical and safe than even the worst ones I've seen in New York City.  One begins near Journal Square and winds up Bergen Avenue, one of the city's major north-south thoroughfares, before ending abruptly.  Along the way, it goes from being a two-way to a one-way lane.  

In most of New York City, if the bike lane is as useless or impractical as the one I've described, I'll just take regular streets. As I've ridden them for decades, I am familiar with traffic patterns and drivers' habits.  Plus, even in the oldest and most remote sections of the city, the streets are usually wide enough to give me at least some room to maneuver through traffic or parked cars.

The option I've described is less available in Jersey City.  The streets are narrower and, I believe, even more congested, as people depend more on motor vehicles, than in my hometown.  

While I don't think the drivers are necessarily more hostile toward cyclists than they are anyplace else.  Rather, I suspect that they are less bike-conscious as, for one thing, there are fewer cyclists and less of a bike culture than there is in some New York City neighborhoods or other locales in the Tri-State Area. Also, being a place where people drive more than they do in the Big Apple, drivers are still imbued with the old attitude that drivers have the primary right to the road: Pedestrians and cyclists are supposed to defer to them. If someone struck by a driver while walking or pedaling, someone is likely to ask what that cyclist or pedestrian was doing on that street.

But not even the least bike-conscious or bike-friendly person is ready to excuse what Amy De Gise did last Tuesday.  Around 8 am, she was driving through an intersection of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard--at first glance, over the speed limit--when she struck cyclist Andrew Black with her Nissan Rouge.

She had the green light.  Black said he thought he had it. Whether he inadvertently or deliberately rode against the light, just about everyone agrees that what she did--or, more precisely, didn't do--next was inexcusable.

Nearly two years ago, a driver "doored" me near the Belmont race track.  To her credit, the driver stayed with me as a passerby--an African American man who was probably around my age--ran to the nearby drugstore, picked up bandages and disinfectants--and treated me until the ambulance arrived.  (I wish I could find out who that man was: I definitely owe him!)  And she cooperated with law enforcement, which made it easy for me to deal with her insurer  (Geico) in paying for the resulting costs. 

Ms. De Gise did not extend similar courtesies to Mr. Black.  She didn't slow down, let alone stop, to check up on him.   Fortunately, he wasn't seriously injured:  He got up and continued riding.  Still, everyone who's commented on the situation agrees that even if he rode through a red light, there was no excuse for what Ms. De Gise what any interpretation of the law would describe as "leaving the scene of an accident."

Amy De Gise strikes Andrew Black at 1:01 of this video.

The cynic in me has two views of her.  One is that she is a common-variety "Karen."  The other, though, is that she was acting out of another kind of entitlement:  She is a council member in a city and state long known for political corruption.  Moreover, she is the daughter of a powerful local politician:  longtime Hudson County Executive Tom De Gise.

Contrast her response to the situation to that of passerby.  According to the Jersey Journal, after his shoes were knocked off his feet and his mangled bicycle skidded to the curb, he gathered himself enough to stand, put on one shoe and hobble to the sidewalk where, 

One woman brought him his other shoe.  People from a corner preschool set down a cooler so he could sit.  Cellphones were whipped out and a small group of people gathered around him to see how he was.  Several vehicles stopped, at least momentarily, and bystanders peered up the block to see what the SUV was doing.

Those folks should be, at the very least, commended.  I am sure everyone agrees with that.  I know that everyone, from public officials to everyday citizens, who have commented on the situation also agree with this:  Amy De Gise must resign.  Until she does, the driver who doored me will have taken more responsibility for what she did than Ms. De Gise has for her action and inaction.

Beauty Or Taste?

When I recall the places where I've stopped to eat or drink during a ride, I wonder just how good the food or beverages actually were.  Cycling heightens all of the body's and mind's functions, including the senses.  So the fruit and cheese from a roadside market, or the baguette or pastry from a little bakery after a few hours of pedaling is the best I've ever tasted.

So I wonder what how good lunch, or a snack, would have been had I stopped on a recent ride:

I was tempted to stop for the name alone.  The Miss America Diner's sign says it's been in business, on the west side of Jersey City, since 1942. Is the food really that good--or as good as I would remember after a long day's ride?

 

Or would it be beautiful?  Hmm...In other restaurants, the waiters sing and dance.  Does the diner have a talent competition?

I haven't followed the Miss America pageant in a while, but I hear that they it away with the swimsuit competition a few years ago.  Somehow I don't think it would work very well in an eatery.

In the not-too-distant future, I'll ride down that way again. Maybe I'll stop in the Miss America diner.  Will I remember the food the way I remember all of those things I've eaten at the end of a long ride?  Or will it just be beautiful?

St. Patrick's Day Sandwich

I had a St. Patrick's Day sandwich.

No, I'm not talking about corned beef and cabbage.  Rather, two fabulous cycling days sandwiched St. Pat's holiday, which featured rain, drizzle and more rain.  Wednesday was sunny and clear, if a bit nippy, but yesterday was more like a day in the middle of May:  sunny, with a slight breeze and temperatures that reached 22C (72F).

So, yesterday, I took advantage of the weather--and the extra hour of daylight at the end of the afternoon, thanks to Daylight Savings Time--and pedaled up to Greenwich, Connecticut and back.  

Of course, being so early in the Spring (or not officially Spring, if you look at the calendar), some plant life isn't quite ready to express the weather.  I didn't mind, though:  the tree in that photo is still beautiful, I believe, in a New England sort of way.  

I must say, though, it's odd to see bare trees as folks strolled along the common in T-shirts, tank tops, shorts or light, flowy skirts.  Then again, I was wearing my lightweight knee-length "knickers" and a long-sleeved T-shirt--and fingerless gloves.

On Wednesday afternoon, after riding to the World Trade Center and taking the PATH train to Journal Square, Jersey City, I pedaled along Kennedy Boulevard down to Bayonne, where a park entrance enticed me to take a detour. 

That park, the Richard A. Rutkowski Park, which includes the Hackensack Riverwalk, abuts Newark Bay, which forms part of the boundary between New Jersey and Staten Island.  Now, this park isn't Big Sur or Acadia, but it has its own charm.  For one thing, it's nicely landscaped and the paths are well-constructed.  For another, it has something of the aesthetic of a post-industrial park like the Cement Plant Park in the Bronx but the waterfront in Rutkowski is still active:  Ships come and go, and the docks and factories still hum with activity.  Somehow all of that makes the sensation of riding by the water all the more calming, especially late in the day, at least for me.

From there, I pedaled down to the Bayonne Bridge for the first time in a few years.  It had been closed so that the span could be reconfigured to allow larger ships to pass.  I am happy to report that the reconstruction includes a bike and pedestrian lane that's better than the old one.  For one thing, it's wider and better-maintained.  For another, it is on the east side of the span, which offers better views than the old one on the west side. Best of all, it lets you off at Trantor Place, where directions to the Ferry (to Manhattan), Stadium and Snug Harbor Cultural Center are clearly marked.  

My only criticism of the new lane is that it's a bit difficult to access from the Bayonne (New Jersey) side.  The entrance ramp rises from Kennedy Boulevard between 7th and 6th Streets.  It's set back and not clearly marked, and because Kennedy is interrupted by a highway entrance and takes a turn on the other side of it, it's easy to lose your way. (If you continue to go straight, you'll end up on a different street altogether.

From the bridge, I rode Richmond Terrace, which winds along the North Shore of the Island and passes Snug Harbor.  The main problem with the Terrace, for cycling, is that it's narrow and almost everyone drives well over the speed limit.  There's been talk of constructing a cycle lane alongside it, or on parallel roads, to allow a safe cycle route from the Bridge to the Ferry.  

So my St. Patrick's Day "sandwich" included enough riding, I think, to burn off the calories I consumed on the day itself--all of them from Irish (or Irish-American) delicacies!

Jackie In The Jersey Theater

Today I took a ride into New Jersey for the first time, I think, since the pandemic began.  I know, that sounds odd, considering how often I’ve pedaled to Connecticut. But I finally got up the courage to board the ferry—which, much to my surprise, was nearly empty—to Jersey City.

I’d forgotten just how odd and interesting parts of the city are.  In Journal Square stands this monument to one of the icons, not only of sports, but also of racial equality and human rights:

Jackie Robinson is one athlete I wish I could have seen in his prime.  What I learned from looking at this sculpture, though, is the emotions he tried not to show, and the ones that he couldn’t help but to reveal.

Sporting events at their best are theater, or at least dramatic. So, perhaps, it’s not surprising to see this theatre across Kennedy Boulevard:

It’s long fascinated me that during the 1920s, when movies first reached mass audiences and studios built towering, cavernous shrines to them, Art Deco and a fascination for all things Egyptian defined the visual style of the time just as jazz was its soundtrack.  Looking at buildings like the Loew’s Jersey, though, shows me how congruent those things were: the lines and shapes of Art Deco building details and Egyptian carvings mirror each other as much as they echo the tempo changes of the era’s best music.

So a theater stands across from a monument to a man who played out one of this country’s real-life dramas.  To his right, across Pavonia Avenue, stands another former movie theater:

Like many other former cinematic cathedrals, it’s become a house of worship. That makes sense, as the interior dimensions of those old movie houses closely resemble theaters.  And when you come down to it, a mass or service is a kind of theatrical performance—just like a ball game or bike race.

And I got to see the theater of the street from my bike.

Safe Passing In The Garden State

During the past few years, a number of jurisdictions have passed laws with the ostensible purpose of promoting cycling safety.  Some, like the “Idaho Stop” and its variants, make all kinds of sense. Others don’t. Still others are well-intentioned and could work.

In that latter category is a law New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy signed yesterday.  It, and others like it, are commonly called “safe passing” laws. 

The Garden State version is more detailed than most.  It not only stipulates that, when passing, drivers move over one lane if a lane is available.  If it’s not, drivers must give a four-foot berth.  If that’s not possible, drivers must slow down to 25 MPH.

Moreover, those mandates apply when motorists are passing, not only cyclists, but also pedestrians, scooters and wheelchairs.

Patrick Conklin, President of Jersey City nonprofit advocacy group Bike JC, says that a “great benefit” of the law is that it “not only tells drivers how and when they should pass” but also “when they shouldn’t.”  Another result is that it “carves out a space for cycling as transportation,” even on “roads with high car traffic, which are often the most direct routes.”

Conlon is pointing to one of the barriers, for many people, to cycling for transportation:  a safe and direct way to pedal to work.

That is not only a problem for urban millennials:  In rural areas (Yes, New Jersey has them:  I know;

I’ve cycled them!), the direct route is sometimes the only route.  Also, many rural and even suburban roads don’t have sidewalks, let alone bike lanes. People are therefore forced to ride their bikes—or walk—or navigate their motorized wheelchairs—on the road.

I think the new New Jersey law is a good step towards promoting human-powered transportation.  My hope, naive as it may be, is that drivers’ consciousness keeps pace and doesn’t lead to hostility, as the construction of bike lanes has here in New York, the Garden State’s neighbor.