Showing posts with label bicycling in New York City. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bicycling in New York City. Show all posts

22 January 2024

Late Day Ride In January

 I sometimes take an early morning or late afternoon ride down through Sunnyside and Maspeth and cross the Kosciusko Bridge into Greenpoint and Williamsburg.


The entrance to the bridge flanks a cemetery and offers one of the more foreboding views of the skyline, especially in winter.




19 December 2023

Late In The Day And Semester



 



In the US, you don’t have to be on the West Coast to ride into a sunset on the ocean.






Here in New York City, you can go to the south shore of Brooklyn, Queens or Long Island, or certain parts of Staten Island, for such a ride. Actually, a ride to Battery Park in Manhattan also counts, as New York Bay—where the Hudson River ends—is technically part of the Atlantic Ocean.







A narrow passage of the Bay separates the tip of Manhattan from Red Hook, Brooklyn, where I took a late-day ride to celebrate the end of a torrent that inundated this city for nearly 36 hours—and to take a break from reading papers and other end-of-semester duties.



01 December 2023

Kevin Duggan Knows


 


Great minds think alike.

So I've heard.  Now, I am not going to tell you that I am a "great mind."  But I know when someone is thinking like a cyclist--in particular, a cyclist in New York City.

Kevin Duggan is such a person.  His latest article in Streetsblog NYC tells me as much.

In it, he lauds a new series of bike lanes I've already ridden a few times.  But he also said they are part of the "groundwork" for a "much-needed safe transportation network in the neighborhoods of Western Queens.

Astoria, where I live, is part of Western Queens.  There is already a lane--which is far from ideal--on my street and a few others.  But those extant lanes do not form a coherent network that would allow a cyclist or, for that matter, anyone not driving, a safe, reliable and efficient way to traverse the area between its bridges, schools, workplaces, shopping areas, parks, museums and the residences of people like me.

Nor do the new lanes about which Duggan writes.  Oh, one of them, along 11th Street, is protected by concrete barriers along some stretches and a lane of parked cars along others.  And it connects, if not seamlessly, with two other lanes along other major thoroughfares--Jackson Avenue and 44th Avenue-- in the neighborhood.  But they don't offer something else they could:  a safe and easy way to access the Pulaski Bridge, which connects the Queens neighborhood Long Island City (an area about 4 kilometers south of my apartment) to Greenpoint, Brooklyn--and has a protected bike lane.

Moreover, the Jackson Avenue and 44th Avenue lanes, which run east-west, doesn't connect (yet) with the lane along Vernon Boulevard--a north-south lane like 11th Street.  And there is no lane to connect Vernon or 11th to Crescent Street or other lanes that take cyclists to the RFK Memorial Bridge and other useful, relevant and interesting places.





Kevin Duggan understands.  I can only hope that the planners will, some day soon.

(Photo by Kevin Duggan for Streetsblog.  Map from New York City Department of Transportation.)

16 November 2023

Nobody Uses Citibike Anymore Because Too Many People Use It

 When discussing bicycle- or "micro-mobility"-related issues, some people can't keep a metaphor or a story straight, let alone construct a cogent argument.

On Monday, I pointed out the malapropisms and simple lack of sense of a Manhattan community board member's objection to a bill that would require, among other things, licensing eBikes--even though I agreed, in principle, that it's not a good bill.  Likewise, while I and many other New Yorkers can point to problems with Citibike's service and equipment, the City Comptroller's review of it seems to be guided, as Streetsblog suggested, by Yogi Berra's observation about a restaurant:  "Nobody goes there anymore because it's too crowded."

On one hand, the report from Brad Lander--who has been mentioned as a possible successor to Eric Adams as this city's mayor--says that Lyft, the ride-share service that now operates the bike-share program, is no longer providing "reliable and equitable service."  On the other, it acknowledges that "Citibike enables millions of trips each month" and that in 2022, there were 30 million trips: "five times as many as when the city first launched in 2013."  Moreover, the report went on to say that preserving (Italics mine) Citibike as a "high-quality transportation service is essential."

Riders pick up and drop off Citi Bikes at a docking station on the Upper West Side.
Photo by Lindsey Nicholson 

 


So why did I italicize "preserving?"  Well, it's notable that  esteemed Comptroller used that word, and not "restoring" or some synonym for it.  While it's far from perfect, I would say--and the phrase at the end of my previous paragraph would indicate--that Citibike is at least pretty good at what it does.  Of course, my experience with it is very limited, but on the occasions when I used it, I could find a bike that worked reasonably well (not like my own, but that's a pretty high bar, if I say so myself) and a port in which I could leave and lock it without too much trouble.  Now, I only used Citibikes between my bike-rich neighborhood of Astoria and central locations in Manhattan and Brooklyn. So, perhaps, I never had to experience what elicits the program's sharpest criticisms, to which the report alludes:  that Citibike doesn't serve low-income neighborhoods and communities of color--or, for that matter, the borough of Staten Island.

Aside from the ways the report contradicts itself, Gersh Kuntzman of Streetsblog points out that it has another problem:  the report is based on only two months--June and July of 2023, when Lyft admitted that it was experiencing problems, especially in certain areas (mainly in the Bronx) and with theft--out of nearly five years of the company's operating the service.

04 September 2023

A Labor Day Ride


 Today is Labor Day in the US.

In previous posts, I discusses races and other organized rides held on this holiday as well as the roles bicycles and bicycling have played in the labor movement and workers’ lives.  Today, however, I want to talk about something I saw during my ride this morning.

Knowing that a hot, humid afternoon was forecast, I took a pre-breakfast/brunch spin to Fort Totten (about 40 km round-trip) on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear. This ride includes, as it usually does, the Malcolm X Promenade, which rims Flushing Bay (where the East River and Long Island Sound meet) from LaGuardia Airport to the Northern Boulevard Bridge to Flushing. 

There are park benches along the Promenade so, not surprisingly, it serves as a lover’s lane, spot for impromptu small parties and simply a place for people to hang out and enjoy views of the water, airport and Manhattan skyline.

I have also seen the unhoused there.  If J they catch my attention, or they catch mine and I am carrying anything edible, I offer it,  They invariably thank me and sometimes eat it as I am pedaling away.  Are they testing it, or do they somehow know that I didn’t spike it with chemicals or ground glass?

Anyway, I have also noticed people—almost always Hispanic men—sleeping or hanging out on benches. I know they are not among the unhoused because they are not flanked or propped by bags or carts full of possessions.



They are most likely like a man who sometimes sits in the doorways of apartment buildings or on the stoops of houses on my block. He always greets me; he “knows” me because he works in a store I sometimes frequent. I see him from late afternoon or early evening to around midnight.

What might he have in common with at least one of the people I saw along the Malcolm X Promenade? Well, for one thing, he works a job that doesn’t pay well. For another, he lives in a room in “shifts.”

He’s in those doorways or on those stoops during the hours when his “roommate“—who probably is in a situation like his—is there. They share the room, and the rent, with another man who is most likely in similar circumstances.

I am mentioning them—and the people I saw during my ride this morning—because they are often forgotten on this day. I am happy that unions are regaining some of the power they’ve lost since the Air Traffic Controllers’ strike of 1981.  But for every union member who’s regained some of the rights, benefits and pay they lost, there are many more like the man on my block or the ones I saw during my ride this morning: the ones who don’t have unions, knowledge of the system or fluency in English to advocate for themselves, let alone anyone else.

23 August 2023

Pedaling In Smoke

Two months ago, Canadian wildfires singed the sky orange in my hometown of New York City.  At times, you could actually smell—and see—smoke from the burning trees.

Such sights and smells didn’t enshroud the ride I took yesterday. I pedaled Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, along familiar streets from my neighborhood to Brooklyn.  While my nose didn’t detect the scent of incinerated wood and my eyes didn’t pick up ash or unusual hues on the horizon, I could sense the aftermath of a fire before I literally encountered it.




On Sunday, a fire destroyed a row of stores at the intersection of Lee Avenue and Hooper Street, by the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Most of the stores were closed, which is probably the reason why no one was hurt even as the stores and their contents were destroyed.





Still, such a disaster is particularly devastating for the Hasidic enclave of South Williamsburg. For one thing, the stores and the spaces they occupied were owned by members of the community, who were also nearly all of those establishments’ customers. For another, some of those stores sold the clothing and supplies kids will need as they return to school,  But most important, those stores catered to the specific needs and religious mandates of the community, particularly in food and clothing. (As an example, Halakhic law forbids the mixing of fabrics.) Those needs and requirements are sometimes difficult, if not impossible, to meet in other stores.

Anyway, I continued my ride. Sometimes it’s seemed as if I’ve been pedaling through smoke all summer.

17 August 2023

A Surprise During A Ride Without A Plan


Errands and things that weren’t so complicated that a politician or lawyer couldn’t further complicate them took up my morning.  

So, by afternoon, I wanted—and needed—to ride  I had no destination or route in mind.  I didn’t even know which bike I’d ride.  For some reason, Marlee sniffed around La-Vande, my King of Mercia. For some other reason, that was the reason I wheeled her out my door.

I zigged and zagged along waterfront promenades and side streets from my Astoria neighborhood to Williamsburg. From there, a detour led me into industrial areas of East Williamsburg and Bushwick where I found myself following a string of graffiti murals that seemed to unfurl like a videographic collage along my ride and led me to this:






The word “truck” over the window hints at the building’s former role as a tire shop.  Given the location, drivers or owners of those hulking industrial vehicles were no doubt most of their customers.



The new clientele, I imagine, are more likely to be fixing or fueling their psyches and, perhaps, accompanying friends, dates or partners than to be hauling steel stock or power tools.  The Bushwick Triangle—where Johnson and Scott Avenues intersect with Flushing Avenue—is a lounge.




Even with its new look and purpose, its shape reminds me of a much larger and more famous structure:  the Flatiron Building, often cited as New York City’s first skyscraper  Somehow, though, I can’t imagine it adorned with a mural like the one on the Bushwick Triangle—even if the Flatiron’s owners were inclined to, and the city allowed, it.

I am glad, however, to have encountered a fun and interesting visual surprise during a ride for which I had no plan.

10 August 2023

Some Things Can’t Hide

 For my morning ride, I turned from Crescent Street to Broadway and crossed under the elevated train at 31st Street.  I found myself in…Ukraine?



That’s what I wondered, at least for a moment.  What would it be like to ride down a familiar route and encounter a military vehicle .

Of course, that truck had nothing to do with the Armed Forces.  And its driver did nothing to menace me or anyone else.  But I had to wonder about the motivation of whoever had that cement mixer truck painted in camouflage colors!



21 July 2023

A Ride From Astoria To Denmark, Via Atlanta

I have a confession:  I rode a bike-share bike the other night.

No, I wasn't in some faraway place without one of my bikes.  I was in my home city--New York, where I live with almost as many bikes (and Marlee) as I lived with family members when I was growing up.

So what was I doing on a CitiBike?

Well, I went to some place where I wasn't sure I could park any of my bikes safely.  A phone call confirmed that there is no on-premises bike parking. And, while there are on-street bike racks-- in addition to sign posts, railings and such--I didn't want to lock up my bike for the three hours or more I expected to be at my destination.

This image will give you an idea of what the neighborhood is like:





All right, the whole neighborhood isn't like that.  It's actually one of the more affluent areas of the city.  The crime rate is lower than in most other neighborhoods but, as in similar neighborhoods, a fair amount of that crime consists of bike theft.

That semi-submerged house is, as you may have surmised, a prop on a stage--specifically, in the Delacorte Theatre, the home of Shakespeare In The Park.

There I saw a very interesting production of Hamlet.  All of the major soliloquies (speeches), and most of the original language, was intact. But it was set in suburban Atlanta, and some liberties were taken with the chronology.  

Whenever I've assigned the play, I've told students that there are really two Hamlets in the play. The one who delivers "To be or not to be" and those other immortal lines is really Hamlet Jr. or Hamlet II, and he is brooding the death of his father--Hamlet Sr, if you will.  In this production, he becomes the patriarch of a mixed-race family. The play opens with his funeral, which includes soul and gospel songs and dance. 

For me, the cast (Ato Blankson-Wood is one of my favorite Hamlets!) helped me to see something that has been in the play all along but what is seldom emphasized:  what we now call "intergenerational trauma."  It also conveys the effect of murder and other kinds of violence on families and communities.  And some of the "tweaks" to the original dialogue--such as "Denmark's a prison" becoming "this country is a prison" (so powerfully delivered by Blankson-Wood)--makes the play almost scarily relevant.

Those who insist traditional, period-correct productions may not like this one.  And I'll admit that some attempts to transpose a contemporary Black/mixed-race American milieu with medieval Denmark don't always work.  But this production "hit" far more often than it "missed" for me, and I recommend it. Oh, and if you need an excuse to ride a Citibike even if you have a few bikes of your own, here it is.

11 July 2023

Don't Use This Bike Lane!

Lately, I've had to ask neighbors and friends not to wave or call me when I'm riding down the Crescent Street bike lane, which takes me directly to my door.  I've explained that for almost any ride I take--whether it's to run errands on Steinway Street or to Connecticut or Point Lookout--the Crescent Street lane is the most dangerous stretch.  It's less than three meters wide--for bicycles, e-bikes, mini-motorcycles, motorized scooters and pedestrians, sometimes accompanied by their dogs, who wander into it while looking at their phones.  

The thing is, unless I'm crossing Crescent Street from  31st Road, the lane is the only way I can get to my apartment.  There is simply no room between the traffic lane and parked cars on the west side of the street or the parked cars and traffic to the east side, where I live.  Before the lane was constructed, I could maneuver my way through traffic, which can be heavy as the street is one of the main conduits between the RFK/Triborough and 59th Street/Queensborough Bridges. Then again, I am a very experienced cyclist and didn't have to contend with the scooters, e bikes and other motorized forms of transportation.

In addition, and a couple of blocks up from me is Mount Sinai-Queens Hospital and the ambulances and other vehicles that embark and return.  Furthermore, there has been residential construction along Crescent, so trucks are all but continuously pulling in our out of, or parking in, the lane. Oh, and even when there's traffic, some drivers still seem to think Crescent Street is the local version of Daytona or Indy--whether they're young men who just want to drive fast and make noise or commuters or other drivers who want to beat the traffic jams on the 59th Street Bridge or the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.

So, I would tell anybody who doesn't need to use the lane--as I do--to stay away.  It was poorly conceived and constructed and, to be fair, when it opened--early in the COVID-19 pandemic--nobody could've anticipated the explosion of e-bikes, scooters and other motorized conveyances.

Mind you, the Crescent Street lane doesn't share some of the defects I've seen in other bike lanes in this city and country.  It is clearly marked and relatively easy to access from the RFK/Triborough Bridge.  The transition from the end of the lane to the 59th Street/Queensborough Bridge, or the local streets around Queensborough Plaza, could be better, but is still better than others I've ridden.

In light of everything I've said, I must say that I can't blame Bike Cleveland for advising local cyclists not to use the new Lorain Avenue bike lane.  According to BC. the lane, near the Lorain-Carnegie Bridge, "is short-lived, and quickly  disappears and drops riders into the sharrow (shared)lane that has existed there for years." The bridge BC notes, is "well known as a haven for speeding motorists on the move to make the highway connection at the other end."

I've never been to Cleveland, but that sounds very familiar to me.






25 May 2023

Women Ride In Copenhagen. Why Not Here?

In an earlier post, I wrote about how women's greater propensity for obeying the law--or simply our risk-adverseness--actually puts us at greater risk of injury and death while cycling.

In that post, I wrote about how the "Idaho Stop" could help to close that "gap."  Briefly, the "Idaho Stop"--so named because the Gem State legalized it all the way back in 1982--allows cyclists to treat red lights like "Stop" signs and "Stop" signs like "Yield" signs.  In other words, cyclists can proceed through a red light if there is no cross-traffic in the intersection.  That allows cyclists to proceed through the intersection ahead of any traffic--including right-turning trucks and buses--that might be following them.

I got to thinking about that in reading Cara Eckholm's comparison of bicycle commuting in Copenhagen, where she spent her early twenties, and New York, where she currently resides.  She points out that in the Danish capital, female cyclists actually outnumber their male counterparts, but on the Big Apple streets, men outnumber women on bikes by a factor of three to one, even though women outnumber men in "spin" and other indoor cycling.

Some of that difference, she contends, has to do with the state of bicycle infrastructure in each city (and country).  Studies show that women's participation in cycling tends to increase when there are more protected lanes and other cycling infrastructure. But she also believes that the cultural norms around gender and cycling are perhaps more important.  As an example, she cites reports--and I can attest--that drivers are more likely to encroach on a female cyclist's space that that of a male rider's.  

Moreover, women are far more likely to be using their bikes to ferry their children to school or ballet or soccer practice, or to shop or do household errands, than men are.  For such riding and riders, the monocoque carbon frames and spandex riding outfits featured in most ad and p.r. campaigns aren't very practical.  Eckholm contends that showing women--whether on city, cargo or e-bikes--in non-bike clothing with their kids, groceries, books or other items that don't fit in a jersey pocket would probably encourage more women--and members of racial and ethnic minorities--to think, "Hey, I can ride a bike!"


Illustration of "New Woman" by F. Opper in Puck magazine, 1895.  From the Library of Congress.

That is more or less the image cycling has in places like Copenhagen.  And, ironically, it harkens back to the images of the 1890s that showed proud, confident women in their "bloomers" and derby hats astride two wheels.  

29 April 2023

Entering And Reaching During A Ride

The other day, I pedaled along the Queens and Brooklyn waterfronts from my apartment to the Williamsburg Bridge.  After crossing, I turned onto Clinton Street and crossed the Lower East Side and Chinatown before crossing under the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges. 

Then I decided to channel the bike messenger I was many years ago and zig-zag through the narrow steel, granite  and concrete  canyons of the Financial District.  There, I did something that sounds riskier than it actually is (which is the opposite of so many things done in that part of town!): I stopped in the middle of Fulton Street, with a line of cars in front of,  and behind, me.

It wasn't so dangerous because the traffic was halted for a bit longer than it normally would stop for a red light.  Guys in thick boots and safety vests were doing some sort of construction or destruction, I'm not sure of which.  So they, with the help of police, stopped traffic for a few minutes, did whatever they were doing and let the traffic go for another few minutes.

That was good, for me, because there are some things for which one should stop before entering.



I couldn't help but to feel that I was riding into the entrance of a cathedral--of tourism?  Of capitalism?  Of this city itself?

When the new World Trade Center tower was under construction, about a decade ago, I was prepared to hate it.  I never cared much for the old "Twin Towers," but after they were destroyed in the September 11 attacks, I felt that nothing should be built in their place.  I thought that the twin rays of blue light that were beamed up from the site for about a year were a fitting tribute to all of the lives lost.

I must say, though, that I like the new tower.  Its curves on the outside give it the grace of a dancer rising and arching her arms as she pirouettes.  It's as if the feeling of transcendence one feels under the arches of a cathedral were the result of the cathedral itself reaching for something.




I feel the new WTC, in its architecture, honors the people lost in and around the Twin Towers.  If only they were here to see it.


11 April 2023

A Pub In His Path

When I was young and thought myself invincible, I would depart for a ride with a full water bottle (or CamelBack, in my mountain biking days) and return home with--a full water bottle.  And, no, I hadn't refilled it along the way.  Sometimes people, including "tough guy" riding partners, either wondered how I didn't, or implored me to, take at least a few sips.  In those days, I just didn't get thirsty very often and didn't realize that even when I wasn't, my body still needed water.

Once, on a ride in Pennsylvania, one of those riding buddies quipped, "This road could be blocked by a fountain and you wouldn't take a drink!"

Perhaps that was true.  But what if the bike lane were blocked by a cafe--or a pub?

A few months into the pandemic, New York City allowed restaurant and bar owners to construct kiosks outside their establishments in order to limit crowding inside.  Some of those kiosks block bike lanes which, ironically, were built not long before the kiosks.  Sometimes I wonder whether those places are trying to drum up business with folks like me--or whether their owners and patrons simply hate us.

The bike lanes in question were all carved out of city streets.  There are a few off-road lanes in the city's parks and other areas.  A few offer snack, drink and lunch stands along the way but none, to my knowledge, feature a full-on restaurant, cafe, bar--or pub.  On the other hand, in at least one part of England, the off-road bike lanes aren't immune to encroachment by eating and drinking establishments. 



Roadcc reader "IanMK" encountered this during his Easter Sunday ride in Buckinghamshire.  He grumbled but, in the end, he stopped for a pint.  I mean, what else could he do, right? 

29 December 2022

A Ride At Day’s, And Year’s, End


 Perhaps it’s fitting that, as this year is ending, I have been taking rides that end in twilight.

When the sun descends at this time of year, the red and orange hues feel like glimmerings of hope, or at least wishes.  The night that follows will be long, but not as long as the one that came before it. The horizon may not stay lit until I reach my destination—whether it’s home or some other place—but at least there is a view, a vision ahead.




Whoever decided to paint the bridge from Roosevelt Island to Queens in that burgundy-rust shade must have had an artist’s sensibility.  Perhaps that person, or committee (Can a committee actually make such an inspired choice?) took a bike ride like the one I did yesterday—at the end of a day, at the end of a year.



23 December 2022

A Ride Ahead Of A Storm

 The "once in a generation" weather events are happening, well, more than once in a generation.  




Such an event was predicted for last night and today.  The weather, according to forecasters, would take twists and turns that would cause a script to be rejected as too unbelievable. The day started with temperatures just above freezing.  Then the rain came:  a few drops falling as I returned to my apartment turned into downpours accompanied by high winds.  The temperature rose to springlike levels, but are expected to fall enough to give us the coldest Christmas Eve and Christmas in, well, a generation.



Now, I don't mind riding in rain or wind, or in changing temperatures.  But the predicted combination is not my idea of a backdrop for a good ride.  I think the only one in my orbit who likes this weather is Marlee because it keeps me home with her!




Anyway, I spent about two and a half hours on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear.  Most of our ride rimmed the East River shorelines of Queens and Brooklyn.  As familiar as it all was, I enjoyed it and, more important, noticed something that I missed because I took a turn I wouldn't normally take.




Along the Greenpoint waterfront is the WNYC Transmitter Park, from which our local public radio stations (on AM and FM) sends out the programs that are often the soundtrack when I'm home.  I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see a mural dedicated to Black Americans who've been killed by police officers.  I think I pay a bit more attention to such things than most White Americans.  Still, I was astounded and, later, ashamed that I didn't recognize many of the names.  What was more disturbing was the knowledge that, as the creators of the murals acknowledge, the "list" is far from complete.





About twenty meters to the right of the BLM mural (or to the mural's left) is another that couldn't be more different.  




Perhaps that is the point:  The woman in the mural looks as White as the paint in her face.   She is as languid as the Sandra Bland, Eric Garner and others in the BLM mural were tense and fearful when they were confronted by constables.  

Oh, and she is lounging on what appears to be a Spring day. I was looking at her, and the BLM mural, on the second day of Winter, as a "once in a generation" storm was approaching.




05 December 2022

Voyage En Rose

 In  2000, I did a bike tour through the Pyrenees, from France into Spain and back.  I started in Toulouse, where I spent four days.  To this day, it's one of my favorite large cities.  The people are friendly and it has all of the other things to love about French cities and towns:  great food, beautiful public spaces and interesting art.  But the thing that leaves me with a warm glow (please indulge me in this analogy/pun) is the light at the end of the day.  So much of the city softly blazes as the sun sets among brick buildings.  For that, Toulouse is often called la ville rose.

So why did I think about that while riding yesterday?  (Well, why wouldn't I?)  As we near the winter solstice, the days are growing shorter.  So any given ride has a greater chance of ending, or even continuing, into the sunset, under twilight.  After riding to the Rockaways and Coney Island, I passed through Clinton Hill--a neighborhood just east of the Brooklyn Academy of Music and Atlantic Center.  

The area is probably best known for its old stone churches, brownstones and the Pratt Institute.  Nestled among them is a smaller but well-respected university:  St. Joseph's.  As a longtime presence, it--not surprisingly--shares the neighborhood's architectural and other visual delights.  






Those buildings, on Clinton Avenue, are adjacent to St. Joseph's and share many characteristics with its other buildings.  They are not, however, part of the university.  The exteriors have been almost unchanged since they were built in 1905, in part because the block is one of the city's first designated historic districts.




Whoever lives in those buildings comes home to a maison rose at the end of the day.  That might be reason enough to live in them, as so many other parts of this city have less rose and look more and more like they're built with neutral-tone Lego blocks. 




30 November 2022

Why Bike Theft Should Be Taken More Seriously

Perhaps it should surprise no one that in New York and other American cities, bicycle theft isn't a high-priority crime for police departments.  If your bike is stolen, you probably won't see it again and the cops will tell you there's "nothing" they can do.  And they might give you a lecture in which they tell you to do the things you'd already been doing.

Depressingly, that is the case in other cities throughout the world.  A case in point is London.  According to a report the BBC cited, about 18,000 thefts were recorded in the city between November 2021 and October 2022. Only 206 resulted in a charge or caution, the latter of which is the British justice system's of saying, "You've been caught; don't do it again."

The BBC news item offered an interesting analysis of the situation.  According to experts, the report goes, many stolen bikes end up on auction sites and those sites should be doing more to stop it.  The report also calls bike theft an "entry level crime," that often leads to bigger crimes.  I wonder whether that separates London bike theft from its counterparts in American cities, which tends to be a crime of opportunity or done by professional thieves.




But aside from losing bikes and contributing to overall lawlessness, bike theft has another undesirable effect. According to Tom Bogdanowicz, a senior policy officer at the London Cycling Campaign, about a quarter of all bike theft victims never cycle again.  This, he said, is "not good for the city" because "if there's less cycling, then there are more emissions from cars, more congestion and people's health isn't improving."  Moreover, he said that while building bicycle infrastructure encourages cycling, if people have their bikes stolen, then you lose customers."

Then, of course, motorists will complain that "their" traffic lanes were "taken away" for bike lanes that "nobody uses."

Thus, not taking bike theft seriously adversely affects public health and exacerbates the already-adversarial relationship that too often exists between motorists and cyclists.  None of that can be good for anybody, I think.


  

07 November 2022

Two Views As The Fall Turns

Here in the New York Metro area, we've just had a weekend of warmer-than-normal fall weather, punctuated by showers late in the morning and early in the afternoon on Sunday.  I did a fair, but not unusual (for me, anyway) amount of riding.  

Saturday brought me and Dee-Lilah, my Mercian Vincitore Special, to Point Lookout.  In previous rides to the Point, instead of "the rocks," I've made another beach area, known mainly to residents, my turn-around point.  While it doesn't have as commanding a view as "the rocks" (where there are now large mounds of sand), the quality of light--a scrim of sea mist across a screen where blue meets blue--is serene.  It reminds me that when I'm cycling (or reading or writing) alone, I feel further from loneliness than I've felt in some of my relationships and in social situations.

I rode into the wind just about all the way to the Point--which meant, of course, that I had the wind at my back on my way home for my last ride before the end of Daylight Savings Time.





Yesterday I got out later than I'd planned.  Since I figured (correctly, it turned out) on taking a shorter ride, I hopped on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike.  I had no particular destination in mind.  My ride turned mainly into a series of dodges around the street closures and crowds gathered for the New York City Marathon.

On my way back, I pedaled up the Vernon Boulevard bike lane, which detours through Queensbridge and Rainey Parks.  Just past Rainey is an ersatz "beach" and kayak launch site below street level--where, less than a mile across the river from the Manhattan skyline, an autumnal vista more reminiscent of the New England seashore presented itself.




The weekend marked, to me, the end of one part of Fall.  Now another begins.  The light will be different, I am sure, but still beautiful.



22 October 2022

Commuting: A Detour Into A Season


 


Interesting, what detours on a morning bicycle commute (yes, I'm doing that again: more about that later) will bring into view.

First, in an industrial area of Long Island City just south of Silvercup Studios, had to detour for this:




 



OK, I'd seen it before.  But if you're pedaling down 22nd Street and pass under the overpasses for the Queensborough (59th Street) Bridge and the #7 train of the MTA, turn right and then left,  you'll run into something that disrupted the street grid: 





Some time in the past, I started a search I just may resume.  Specifically, I was (and am) curious as to whether that rock outcropping was left in place because it was too hard to break or blast  (there are a few similar outcroppings in Upper Manhattan for that reason)--or, perhaps too expensive.  Or, for all I know, someone or some group of people didn't want it destroyed.  Could it have been sacred to people who no longer live in the neighborhood?

The other morning brought a crisp, cool breeze and a blaze of color some living beings--I include myself, sometimes--hold as a store, a memory, against the season that inevitably follows.





Whenever I see a leaf or a flower, I see a hand.  Sometimes it is trying to capture water, light--or to hold whatever time it may have left.  I couldn't help but to wonder whether those leaves I saw not far from the rock were trying to hold onto their beauty in that moment--or whether they were bleeding away, however slowly, those last flickerings of the light they still hold.





I know that since I've returned to the classroom, my experiences, and those of my students, are different--whether in obvious or not-so-obvious ways--from what they, and I, experienced before the pandemic.  I wonder whether it has anything to do with bicycle commutes like the one I did the other morning.