My First View, From A Bike

Yesterday I rode Zebbie, my 1984 Mercian King of Mercia, through the brownstones and rowhouses of Queens and Brooklyn.  Such a ride could easily involve a trip across the Kosciuszko Bridge, now that it has one of the better bike-pedestrian lanes in this city.

And so it was yesterday.  Tourists on Citibikes almost always ride across the Brooklyn Bridge for the views.  But no longtime New York resident does that.  Rather, in-the-know Big Apple cyclists opt for the Williamsburg Bridge or, if we simply want a visually interesting ride, the Kosciuszko.

In the spring and summer, the view consists mainly of skyscrapers foregrounded by trees and the factories and warehouses along Newtown Creek.  But the denuded limbs of winter reveal a landscape of differing verticalities. (Does that sound like a geeky phrase or what?)

When I lived in Manhattan and Brooklyn, one of my worst fears was--moving to Queens.  Mind you, I took many good rides, and enjoyed other activities, in "the world's borough."  But my first glimpse of it came from my family's car, en route to visit relatives:

Tell me, how would you feel about a place if the first thing you saw in it was a cemetery?  I'm guessing that I probably saw it for the first time on a winter day like yesterday, with leafless trees screening, but not shielding, the tombstones.  

But I did eventually move to Queens--to Long Island City, not far from where I live now.  Since then, I've visited Calvary Cemetery.  I know that there are tours of some of this city's necropoli, like Greenwood and Woodlawn.  Anyone who has a taste for such things (which I do, sometimes) should also go to Calvary.  Largely before of it, there are--wait for it--more dead than living people in Queens. (Thomas Wolfe once claimed, "Only the dead know Brooklyn."  What would he have said about Queens?)  In fact, more people are buried in Calvary than in any other American cemetery--or than live in Chicago!

Like Greenwood and Woodlawn, Calvary is the final resting place for some famous and infamous people, as well as everyday New Yorkers.  Also in common with them, Calvary began after the 1840s cholera epidemic: At that time, most of Queens and the farther reaches of Brooklyn and the Bronx (the locations of Greenwood and Woodlawn, respectively) were rural. And there wasn't enough room left in Manhattan to bury the victims of that epidemic, so the city mandated that they be interred elsewhere. 

All of those cemeteries have chapels large enough for masses or services.  But Calvary has a full-blown cathedral (not visible in these photos) at least somewhat reminiscent of the Sacre Coeur in Paris.

It's ironic that those same trees I saw yesterday obscure the tombstones in spring and summer.  Could their lush leafage during those seasons be nourished by the "residents" of Calvary?

Mapping What’s Missing

 

From the City of Austin 

My first time in Paris, so many things impressed me.  Among them were, of course, the food and the architecture—and that an entire street—l’Avenue de la Grande Armeé —was lined with boutiques of every major French bike maker and a couple of étrangers like Raleigh.  

And the city’s Métro system seemed like a fleet of high-tech yachts compared to the only such system—New York’s—I knew at the time. The feature that seemed most other-worldly, though, was the interactive route maps in the major stations like Châtelet-Les Halles.  Three decades before GPS, it was about as high-tech as urban subterranean navigation got: You pointed your finger to the name of a street or landmark and a string of lights marked the route and transfer (correspondance) points.

Now the city of Austin, Texas has something that reminds me of that old Paris map. The city’s Public Works and Transportation Departments have collaborated to create the ATX Walk Bike Roll to solicit ideas for improvements to the Lone Star capital’s bike and pedestrian infrastructure. To that end, they’ve designed an interactive map where residents can drop a “pin” wherever they find, say,  “hilariously narrow “ or non-existent sidewalks or bike lanes that are more like “obstacle courses.”

If we had such a map here in New York, I—or any regular cyclist—alone could fill it.  And to think this city is better than others in the US—including, possibly, Austin—for pedestrians and cyclists!

Would Tires Make A Difference?

In the early hours of this morning, we had our first significant snowfall of the season.  Here in NYC, we've had a couple of bouts of flurries.  But this storm resulted in five to eight inches of accumulated white stuff.

Not surprisingly, few people are cycling.  Seeing the Citibike port got me to wondering whether more people would ride on a day like this if Citibikes had snow tires.  Are the share bikes in cities that get more snow--say, Montreal--so equipped?

Then again, I wonder whether Citibikes would get more use on a day like this if their tires had studs.  I don't know whether anyone has studied the matter, but from my observations, I would guess that Citibikes are ridden mainly on bike lanes or streets that are plowed early.  And many are ridden by tourists who, unless they're really dedicated riders or come from colder climates, aren't going to ride on a day like today. 

Bike Lane Mayhem: Just Don't Yell At The Cops.

I ride the bike lane on Crescent Street in Astoria only because it passes directly in front of my apartment--and I use it only to get home or to a street that will take me wherever I'm going.  

In that sense, the Crescent Street lane is actually better than some:  It not only takes me to my apartment; it also provides a direct connection between two major bridges with bike lanes: the Triborough/RFK and Queensborough/59th Street.  

For a while, I was crossing the Triborough almost every day to work, and often use it for rides to points north, including Connecticut.  But I take the Queensborough/59th Street only if I'm going to someplace within a few blocks of the Manhattan side.  If I'm going to Midtown or downtown Manhattan, I prefer to pedal into Brooklyn and cross the Williamsburg or Manhattan Bridges.  

The reason I like those bridges better is that the bike lanes are relatively wide and accessible.  The Queensborough/59th Street Bridge, on the other hand, is--like the Crescent Street lane--narrow.  How narrow?  Well, I've come within a chain link width of brushing, or being brushed by, cyclists traveling in the opposite direction.  

That problem has been exacerbated by motorized bikes and scooters.  I was under the impression that they're supposed to be limited to a maximum speed of 40 kph (about 25 mph).  But I've seen more than a few that were traveling well above that speed.  And I have seen many more of them than cyclists run red lights, make careless turns and sideswipe cyclists and pedestrians.  

Photo by Scott Gries--Getty Images

I know I'm not the only one who's noticed.  Christopher Ketcham said as much yesterday, in a New York Daily News guest editorial.  He also points out something I've mentioned:  It's illegal to operate those motorized vehicles in bike lanes.  People do it; they endanger others; cops see it and do nothing.

Ketcham described such a scenario of which he had to be a part.  Someone riding a motorized bike nearly knocked him off his bike on the Manhattan Bridge Lane.  When he stopped to complain to the cops sitting on the complain to two cops stationed on the Manhattan side, one of them said, "We're here for the bikes."

So that officer admitted what many of us know:  the police come after us because we're easy prey--and because, as former Transportation Alternatives head Charlie Komanoff said, "Cycling is everything cops are acculturated to despise:  urban, improvisatory and joyous rather than suburban, rulebook and buttoned-up."  I have noticed the hostility he and Ketcham describe even in cops who patrol on bicycles: I suspect that none of them ride when they're off the clock.

Some might say that Ketcham, Komanoff and I are paranoid or "not seeing the whole picture."  Well, if we can't see from the proverbial 30,000 feet, we certainly can look through the wide-angle lens of statistics:  In 2019, the NYPD handed cyclists 35,000 tickets for all sorts of infractions, from not having bells (more about that in a moment) to running red lights (even when, as I have described, crossing at the red light is safer for the cyclist and drivers). Truck drivers received 400 fewer tickets, although there are ten times as many trucks as bicycles on New York City streets.

When Ketcham complained to the cops at the foot of the Manhattan Bridge, they gave him a $98 ticket--for not having a bell and, allegedly, for yelling at the officers, according to the "Description/Narrative" portion of the ticket.  

I wonder how many folks driving motorized bikes were ticketed for riding illegally in bike lanes (or on sidewalks), sideswiping cyclists and pedestrians--or yelling at police officers.

 

The State Of Cycling In NYC, According to the DOT

In New York, as in other cities, the number of cyclists spiked early in the COVID-19 pandemic.  

According to the city's Department of Transportation, in 2020, 21 percent more cyclists crossed the East River bridges than in the previous year.  Those bridges, which include the Brooklyn, Manhattan, Williamsburg, Queensboro (59th Street) and RFK (Triboro) Bridges, which connect Manhattan with Brooklyn and Queens.  They are commonly used by bicycle commuters as well as recreational and fitness cyclists.  

This year, however, the number of cyclists crossing those bridges has decreased by 10 percent from last year. Still, this year-to-date number of cyclists is well ahead of 2019 or previous years.  And the number of cyclists has grown five times faster than in other US cities, according to DOT data.

DOT Commissioner Hank Gutman said that cycling is "here to stay" in New York.  But he would not draw comparisons with cities in other countries where cycling is more central to the culture, and drivers and pedestrians are therefore more cognizant of cyclists.

While the DOT data shows a drop in bridge crossings, I am not so sure that there is an overall decrease in the number of bike riders in my home town.  There may be less inter-borough commuting because, as DOT data indicate, vehicular traffic is back to pre-pandemic levels.  That might be a deterrent to some people who started riding last year.  So might be the seemingly-exponential increase in the number of motorized bikes (many of which are used by delivery workers) and scooters.  They seem to outnumber cyclists on the bike lanes, as well as on the streets, and too many e-bike, motorbike and scooter riders sideswipe cyclists and pedestrians and pay no heed to traffic signals.   

NYC DOT Commissioner Hank Gutman (Photo by Clayton Guse, for the NY Daily News)

Dragons, Rescues And Purple Tulips

An early spring weekend of riding turned out to be a slalom:  I wove my way between bouts of rain and threats of rain, and among momentoes to death and loss and life's renewal.

First, to Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, the home of the Unisphere.  If you haven't been there, you saw it in "Men In Black."  I rode a route that took me through the park because I wanted to see the cherry blossoms.  The ceremony the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens holds was canceled this year, as it was last year.  It's still a great place to see the blooms because of the walks and paths lined with the trees, and the variety of cherry blossoms grown at the Gardens.  But those of us in the know will tell you that if you want to walk through a pink canopy without the throngs of selfie-takers, there's no better place in this city than FM-CP.

I think I might've been a bit early--or the trees might be blooming a bit later than they did last year:  The buds, lovely as they are, do not burst with color in the same way.  Like all buds, however, they are a visual reminder of hope and the future.  So, I can look forward to going back in a few days--I hope.

I did, however, see "Leo."

During the past few years, an inordinately high number of trees have toppled in this city's parks and on its streets.  Part of the reason is that once-in-a-century storms are striking every ten, five or even fewer years.  Another, as a park ranger told me, is that many trees are old and have been decaying from within for years.  

So, contrary to a rumor I may have just started, there isn't a dragon named Leo who knocks the trees down.  Maybe he's kept at bay by coolers of--Gatorade?  beer?--left for him!

My riding took me into Manhattan, the whole length of the island and beyond.  At its base, Battery Park--where you get the ferries to the Statue of Liberty and Staten Island--there's a memorial to members of the Merchant Marine who were wounded or killed in World War II.

According to the inscription, the sculptor was inspired by a photo.  I don't doubt it, but if said sculptor could also have claimed inspiration from something else:

I mean, can you imagine what the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel would look like had someone besides Pope Julius commissioned--or Michelangelo (one of my artistic heroes) painted it.  

(Fun fact: Michelangelo didn't want to do the ceiling.  He was at work on other projects and insisted he was primarily a sculptor rather than a painter.  During the course of working on it, he wrote poems, tinged with sarcasm, about his displeasure at working on the fresco.)

Another irreverent thought occurs to me:  Both Michelangelo's fresco and the sea sculpture can be seen as Rorsach tests of a sort:  When you see one hand reaching out to another, do you think the stronger one should grasp the other and pull the other up?  Or do you think the person being to whom the hand is being extended should learn to fend for himself?  Will the guy in the water start to swim and, if he doesn't, does he deserve help?  

At one time such a test would have classified me one way, and now it would reveal me in a different way.  All I'll say is that my days of writing editorials for libertarian publications are long past!

Anyway, near the monument is a cafe for tourists.  I must say that I was impressed with the garden around it:

With a setting like that, the cafe could serve sludge from the water and people would enjoy it!  Me, I enjoyed my weekend of riding, even if it wasn't high-mileage.

A Ride To Visit Shirley

What's the best thing ever built on a dump?

I may have cycled to it yesterday afternoon:

Shirley Chisholm State Park opened in 2019 but was only recently named in honor of the woman who represented my Congressional district (albeit with different boundaries) for seven terms. In 1972, she became the first woman to run for Democratic party's presidential nomination, and the first black woman (she was born in Brooklyn to West Indian parents) to run in either major party.  

I would love to know what she'd think of the park's location:  In addition to all sorts of substances not meant for human consumption, various rumors had it that the Mafia, other crime groups and individual criminals disposed of bodies there.  I wouldn't doubt the veracity of those stories, and I'm even willing to believe that one reason the location was used was, in addition to its remoteness from central parts of the city, its chemical composition:  Supposedly, the bodies dissolved quickly in the toxic stews and soups that festered there.

Ms. Chisholm, though, probably would be pleased that it's been turned into a park.  It's officially been part of the Gateway National Recreation Area since the 1980s, when the dump closed and cleanup began, but was off-limits to the public.  Some trails and a really nice loop for walkers and cyclists opened recently, and there are exhibits that explain the kinds of wildlife and fauna living in the area.  

What would please the park's namesake most of all, I think is that the park borders East New York, one of the most impoverished neighborhoods in the United States.  Not surprisingly, nearly all of East New York's residents are black or brown.  An adjacent neighborhood, Brownsville, is like East New York but even  poorer and tougher:  One of Brownsville's projects (what the Brits call council flats), the Pink Houses, gave the world Riddick Bowe and Mike Tyson. 

Oh, and the park's entrance opens onto the bike/pedestrian path that runs along the Belt Parkway from Howard Beach, Queens to Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn.  As it happened, I rode in and around the park on my way to Canarsie Pier, where I've taken many a ride.

Shirley Chisholm overcame many obstacles.  So it's kind of ironic to see this:

A steep hill?  A bump?  Only sissies are intimidated by such things.  I am a transgender woman.