Biking To Work (Or Wherever)

Cities that have Bike to Work Days or Weeks usually hold them in the middle of Spring.  The reason, I believe, is that it's easier to entice people to give up four wheels and one gas pedal for two wheels and two pedals on a day when it's neither "too" hot nor "too" cold.

Now, I agree that if people pedal rather than drive to work a couple of days a week or a few months out of the year, it's at least something of a victory.  However, bike commuting is seen as a real transportation alternative mainly in places where people ride bikes year-round.  And not all of those places have balmy winters: think of Amsterdam, Copenhagen or Paris, where I recently took a trip.

Another such place, I imagine, is Fort Collins, Colorado.  I have been to the Centennial State only in the summer, but I hear that winters can be brutal.  So, I would think that any committed bicycle commuter--or any committed cyclist in general--is prepared to pedal through all sorts of meteorological perils.

Also, I would expect that the daily rides, for some, don't involve a trip to the office or other workplace. Some, of course, might be ride to school, but others are headed to the store, the park or "wherever."

It is that last category of riders, as much as the time of year, that makes Fort Collins' Winter Bike To Work (or Wherever) Day interesting, and possibly unique.  This year's Day will kick off at 7 am on 10 February, a week from this Friday.  Local businesses, schools and other organizations will run an array of free breakfast stations, some of which will double as bike tech or warming spots.  They will remain open until 9:30 am, when a ceremony involving remarks by the mayor, a concert by Crispy Watkins and recognition for bicycle-friendly businesses.

A cyclist in Fort Collins' Winter Bike To Work Day in 2019.  (Photo by Bethany Baker for The Coloradan.

As much as I want to encourage more people to pedal to work or school, I think a true bicycling culture develops when people ride "wherever," year-round. It seems that Fort Collins is trying to encourage that.

 

Helping Healers Stay Healthy

I have passed the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center many times, by bike and on foot.  Every time, I noticed two things:  few, if any, bikes parked in its vicinity--and how many people in lab coats or scrubs were smoking just outside its doors.

And I've been accused of "ignoring the risks" for cycling in Manhattan, and other parts of New York City. 

(For the record, I've never smoked, wear a helmet, am fully vaccinated and wear a mask when I'm within a couple of meters of any other person.)

Anyway, I have noticed more health-care workers of all kinds riding bicycles.  As a matter of fact, in the pandemic's early days, I gave the old Cannondale M300 mountain bike I fixed up to someone who works in Mount Sinai-Queens, a block and a half up the Crescent Street bike lane from my apartment. His is not the only bike I see parked in the racks outside the facilities.  

I mention all of this because I wonder whether what I'm experiencing and observing is indicative of wider trends, as they say in academic and marketing (!) circles. The question particularly interests me in light of a story that came my way:  the Mayo Clinic, in Rochester, Minnesota, has been named a Bronze-Level Bicycle Friendly Business by the League of American Bicyclists.  In conferring this designation, the LAB cited "improved bike racks, secure parking rooms and tips for employees to ensure a safe and secure ride to and from work" as bases for so categorizing the Mayo. 

We've all heard the admonition, "Healer, heal thyself" (Cura te ipsum.)  It looks like the Mayo is taking steps to encourage its employees to follow that nugget of wisdom.  I hope other health-care facilities are doing the same--which, I admit, can be a difficult thing to do when perhaps no other profession has so many stressed-out people, especially in a time like this.      

Moonset

I have pedaled into the sunrise, and into the sunset, to work.

Likewise, I have ridden into the sunrise, and into the sunset, to go home.

Less often, I have cycled into a moonrise, to or from my job.

This morning, for the first time (that I can recall, anyway), I spun my wheels into the path of a moonset.

A full moon setting, no less--on my to the college.

(Photos taken today, along East 139th Street, Bronx, NY)

Their Side Of The Tracks

Most days, my commute takes me along an industrial stretch of East 141st Street that dead-ends at Park Avenue.

It is not, however, the Park Avenue that comes to most people's minds:  the one lined by canopied buildings to which well-dressed residents are escorted from taxis or limousines by white-gloved concierges.  Rather, it is the Park Avenue bound by the Metro North commuter railroad tracks after it crosses the Harlem River from Manhattan into the Bronx.

As I pedaled down 141st Street, I saw, those bicycles parked by the railroad tracks.

That, in itself, was unusual, as the few bikes one sees in the area are locked to light poles or sign posts.  But, in a move so cinematic it couldn't have been scripted, I turned to my right and saw this:

Those young men are living in that tent, by the tracks, and use the bikes to get around--just three blocks from the college.  At the end of a street where construction materials and chicken tenders are made.  Next to the tracks where trains, at that very moment, were ferrying commuters from Greenwich and Rye and Mount Kisco to Grand Central Station, where they would board subways and hail taxis to the places where they work and get paid.

Most likely, none of the passengers saw the bikes, the tent--or the men who ride those bikes in search of food and bottles, cans and other castoffs to sell.

First One In!

The new semester has just begun.

It looks like my bike is the first one in:

I have to set an example, if not a trend, you know.

If only more would follow!

Bicycle Expressway Opens In Beijing

Just over a year ago, I wrote that construction of a 6.5 kilometer bicycle expressway was to begin in September.  It was designed to link the residential neighborhoods of Huilongguan in Beijing's Changping district with a rapidly-developing high-tech zone in the Haidan district, where about one in six Huilongguan residents work.

Well, that expressway has just opened. So why is it called an "expressway" instead of a "highway" or "lane"?  Well, it actually does speed up the commute, which could take an hour and a half because several busy highways had to be crossed.  The new Beijing bicycle expressway is elevated, so it crosses over those highways as well as other busy intersections.  As a result, the trip can be done in 25 minutes when a cyclist rides at the 20kph (12.5mph) speed  limit.

One really interesting feature of this new three-lane highway is traffic lights that allow managers to switch the direction of the center lane to accommodate traffic flow during the morning and evening rush hours.
  



Another stage of this bicycle highway is planned.  When completed, it will reach Zhuongguancun, often referred to as China's Silicon Valley.  Nearly one in five Huilongguan residents work there.

Could Beijing once again become the "Bicycle City" western tourists saw during the 1980s and 1990s?

Little Ricky Wasn't Afraid Of Me

No matter how well you know your route, you never really know whom or  what you'll encounter along the way.

During yesterday's commute, I encountered this:

"Ricky" (It sounds more gender-neutral than "Rocky") crossed my path, literally, under the Hell Gate trestle. If you've taken an Amtrak train between New York and Boston, you've ridden on that trestle.  The path leads to the Randall's Island Connector, which I take to the Bronx.

Since that path bisects fields and the connector crosses over the Bronx Kill, which connects the Harlem River with the East River, near the point where it meets Long Island Sound, it's not unusual to see animals, including the Randall's Island Salamander.  

What surprised me, though, is that when I stopped, little Ricky approached me.  Usually, when I see a raccoon, they dart away.  Perhaps nobody had taught Ricky to be afraid of humans--or to defend territory against them.

It took me too long to get my phone out of my bag, so I only captured an image of Ricky in retreat.  He/she was sooo cute (OK, how many baby animals aren't?) but I knew enough not to pick him/her up.  As the Parks Department reminds us, they're never too small to have rabies.

But, really, how can you associate someone so little and cute with something so terrible?  If I ever see little Ricky again, though, he won't be so little--and probably will've learned to be afraid.

To Find A Bike, Go Where The Donuts Are

Years ago, a fellow but very-senior faculty member was observing and evaluating one of my classes.  She wrote favorably of me, though she commented on my seeming lack of confidence.  "Remember, you are doing God's work," she told me.

I was taken aback because I hadn't taken her for a religious person.  For that matter, I was somewhat surprised--for reasons I can't recall--that she would even invoke a deity.  Perhaps I had assumed, wrongly, that she would share most other humanities faculty members'--and my--non-religiosity.

(I sometimes joke that the Carmelite nuns of my school tried to beat the devil out of me but exorcised me of my faith instead.)

Anyway, I think it's fair to ask this:  If there is indeed a god, what would that god's work be?

Of course, being a cyclist and bike blogger, I'd like to think that it somehow involves bicycles and bicycling.  Benjamin Franklin once quipped that beer is a sign that God loves us and wants us to be happy.  I would say the same about bicycles.

And, if God's work does involve bicycles, could a bakery be a theatre, staging area or workshop?

Larry Batten is the coordinator of Chain Reaction Ministries.  The program, based in The First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) of Oklahoma City, provides bikes for people who need basic transportation to get to their jobs.  Not surprisingly, most of the recipients have recently started their jobs or work for low wages.  Among their ranks, also not surprisingly, are some recovering addicts and new or recent parolees.

Chain Reaction Ministries coordinator Larry Batten

The point of the program, according to Batten, is to help such people get back on track with their lives.  That is the reason why, he says, the bikes aren't given to just anybody. "We are providing a hand up, not a handout," he explains.  Thus, the program requires takes  would-be recipients who are referred by various agencies, and requires those would-be recipients to present some sort of proof of employment.

The program has grown much faster than he or anyone else imagined.  So, they are almost always in need of bikes and parts. Sometimes bikes are stripped for parts, while the more expensive ones are traded at nearby Al's Bicycles for tires, tubes, chains and other parts that are needed continuously.  "Al's been amazing to us," Batten says.

His search for bikes sometimes goes far and wide.  One thing he  learned, however, is to go where the bikes are--or, more precisely, where the bikes might be.  Hence program volunteer Tom Russell's trip to Brown's Bakery.  It seems that Brown's doughnuts have quite a reputation, which is the reason why the bakery is a magnet for cyclists.  Indeed, as far back as the 1970's it served as the destination for  the Oklahoma Bicycle Society's Donut ride, a meandering ride through historic neighborhoods in Oklahoma City.

Batten says that the church has a repair shop equipped with tools donated by the local rotary club.  Two mechanics work there.  They are not mere "wrenches", though:  They empathize with their clients because they were once homeless themselves.

There are other "happy endings," evidenced by the many "thank-you" letters Batten receives.  Some of the recipients continue to ride after they get their lives together.  Others, though, buy cars--and give their bikes back to Chain Reaction Ministries.

If you want to donate, or simply want more information, you can call Chain Reaction Ministries at  (405) 525-6551 or Batten himself at (405) 479-3809.

One Way Of Entering The Bronx

As I mentioned in a previous post, a bicycle/pedestrian connection between Randall's Island and the Bronx has opened.  It's actually very good:  It's well-constructed and makes a smooth transition to the pathways on the island.  Also, it's wide and closed off to motorized traffic, though there is a rail crossing--albeit one that doesn't seem to be used very often.  My only real complaint about it is that it's that most people would have a difficult time finding it from the Bronx side.

Still, I sometimes choose to ride up the walkway on the Bronx spur of the RFK Memorial/Triborough Bridge.  One reason is that it has a fairly steep incline, which adds a small challenge to my daily commute.  Also, while the new connector makes for an easy entrance into the Bronx, the old RFK walkway makes the entrance, shall we say, a bit more grand

and perhaps a bit more dramatic, even a bit Gothic, on an overcast day.   It's not exactly noir--more like gris, perhaps.  Plus,  you have to admit, there's something imposing about seeing a cross--or something that looks like a cross, anyway--as you are riding up to an arch.

Don't get me wrong:  I'm enjoying my new job, and the commute to it.  Truth be told, the part of the Bronx where I now work is more interesting than the part of Queens where I had been working.  And, oddly enough, even though I don't see a lot of people in the neighborhood riding bikes (a few of colleagues in my department and elsewhere in the college ride in), somehow I don't feel as conspicuous as I did at my old job, where practically nobody rode.  And I couldn't make the kind of entrance I make when I pedal up that ramp into the Bronx!

It's Too Cold....For What?

This afternoon, the temperature has risen to 55F (12C).  That's about 12F (6C) higher than normal for this time of year. 

Three days ago, the temperature dropped to -1F (-18C) at dawn, giving us the coldest morning we've had in over two decades. It was Valentine's Day--a Sunday, to boot-- and when I went outside, nobody was on the streets.  (That might mean that a lot of babies will be born in November.)  None of us who might normally ride on a Sunday were pedaling down the pavement.  Even the delivery men for the 24 hour diner seemed to have taken the morning off.

Before that, we had a week or so of relatively mild weather, preceded by a blizzard, which was in turn preceded by warmer-than-usual-for-early-winter temps.


In years past, there always seemed to be a spell of a few weeks when the weather was "too cold" for most people, including dedicated cyclists, to ride.  Of course, what people in this part of the world deem as "too cold" would seem absolutely tropical in, say, northern Quebec or the eastern plains of Montana.  But I would imagine that even in such places there are conditions which even the hardiest and most seasoned cyclists, hikers and other outdoorspeople dare not venture.

This year, though, we seem to have had almost no such stretch of weather.  Aside from a couple of abnormally cold days (like Valentine's Day or the weekend of the blizzard), we have not had terribly wintry conditions.  Within two days of the blizzard, the temperature rose to 50F (10C), so the snow didn't remain for very long.  And the snow that fell in the wee hours of yesterday morning is a memory, distanced by the warmer-than-average conditions we're having today.

Still, when I showed up at  my job today, one of my colleagues expressed disbelief that I cycled in.  "It's too cold!"

"Too cold for what?" I wondered aloud.

"Well, it is still winter, you know.  You must be cold." 

I wasn't, but I took her up on her offer of a hot chocolate.  It is indeed winter, whether or not "it's too cold".

See How They Run: Choosing Your Fuel

Are you trying to convince someone (yourself?) to cycle rather than drive to work or school or wherever?

If you are, this might make your job a little easier:

Saluting An Early Morning Fog

This morning, on my way to work, I pedaled into a horizon of light, high fog.

The air was still pleasantly cool and, surprisingly, didn't seem very humid.  At least, I was pedaling at a vigorous, if not furious, pace because I could, and I wasn't sweating.

Perhaps it had to do with the stillness of everything around me.  They say this city never sleeps.  Well, sometimes I'm out before people--and machines--have awakened:

Or are they saluting the skyscrapers, veiled in mist on the other side of the river ?

Oh, it's such a treat to ride my bike to work!

The Day Begins At Hell Gate

This morning I rode through the Gates of Hell.

At least, some people thought they were:  They were driving to do things they had to do. On the other hand, I was cycling to something I had to do.  I reckon, though, that the thing I had to do was less onerous than the things some of those drivers were going to spend their day doing.

It's probably a good thing they couldn't, or didn't, see what was below and beside them, in Hell Gate.

I could not see the water, either.  I could not see the cables of the RFK Bridge, except for the ones nearest to me.  All I could see were the lights of cars and trucks. They were only reflections of the moment, repeated again and again.

All I could do was to move through them, through time, across the bridge over Hell Gate.

Carrying, Not Riding, Gaspipes

Some would argue that one can tell what kind of a cyclist someone is by what he or she carries while riding.  

That was certainly true for me during my days as a messenger.  It's also been true at other times in my cycling life.  Hey, I've even moved myself from one living quarter to another on my bike.

But at no time could I ever have held a candle to this man:

Chris Jones of Weymouth, Dorset (UK) started carrying his plumbing equipment because, he said, construction that preceded the 2012 Olympics blocked traffic.  Some of the sailing events took place in his town.

He said his service to his customers actually improved.  "On the  bike, I can tell the customers that I will be there at a certain time and know I will be there," he explained.  He knows he won't be "sitting in a traffic queue for half an hour" and therefore won't be late.

I tried to find out whether he still goes to his jobs on his bike. Somehow I imagine he does, as his bike is purpose-built.

Forever Locked To History

To myself, I debated whether or not I wanted to publish this.  Most of the "commemorations" of the 9/11 attacks seem like mindless chatter or grandstanding to me; I can scarcely stand to hear anything about it save from people--or their families or friends--who were directly affected by it.  

But I thought this photo would be a simple yet eloquent reminder of what happened on that day:

These bicycles and the rack were retrieved from the wreckage of the Twin Towers and are now housed, along with other items recovered from the World Trade Center, in Hangar 17 of John F. Kennedy International Airport.


Some of these bikes are twisted, almost mangled.  But they are still locked to the rack.  People rode them--probably to work--and locked them to the rack, where they will probably stay forever.