What Kind Of Protection Do You Want?

I've seen bike helmets that don't have vents.  I simply can't imagine riding one:  Even with my latticework casque, I sweat when the temperature or humidity rises.

On the other hand, those vents let in the cold and rain.  The former isn't such a problem as long as you can fit a balaclava, beanie or some other form-fitting form of insulation under your helmet.

The rain is another story.  I've worn shower caps or even plastic bags under my helmets.  They're fine for keeping your head dry, but not very comfortable when it's warm and raining.

And, even if you keep your head dry, there's still the rest of you.  Do you wear a full rain suit?  A poncho?  Or do you need only to cover your shoulders and upper torso?

Hmm...Maybe this headgear could be made to ANSI specifications.

Could it also be made with a COVID mask--or even one of the face shields I've seen on a few people?

This Labor Day Ride?

Today is Labor Day in the US.

This year, the holiday is different:  Most large gatherings, including parades, have been cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic.  So have many organized bicycle rides.

I have to wonder whether these riders would have been sanctioned for not keeping their "social distance":

Perhaps they're all related?  After all, your family can't make you sick, right?

Out Of Season

Late summer + Late afternoon =  Winter?

Perhaps that equation makes sense if you are the sort of person who grows sadder as the summer draws to a close.  In normal times (whatever that means anymore), the days grow shorter and cooler at this time of year.  So, if winter isn't incipient, fall is certainly on its way--with the barren season not far behind.

Although the air was warm when I mounted my bike, I felt as if I'd taken a ride in the middle of January or February, after the bright lights of Christmas and New Years' festivals are switched off.  Coney Island, like other seaside destinations, seems to retreat into hibernation from that time of year until Easter or Passover.  During those spring holidays, people congregate on the boardwalk, and sometimes even venture on the beach, even if the roller coasters and Ferris wheels and other attractions have not yet opened.

But such gatherings were absent yesterday.  Granted, it was a Thursday afternoon, but in normal (there's that word again!) times, I would have to weave around groups of strollers on any summer afternoon that didn't include a raging thunderstorm.

Most people would say that Coney Island is "dead," or at least closed, when the Cyclone--one of the most iconic amusement park rides in the world--and Wonder Wheel are still, their entry gates locked tight.    But, for me, what really shows that a stake has been driven into Coney Island's heart is this block:

I remember riding the "bumper cars" with my grandfather as a child, and trying to win prizes at the shooting range.  Tourists usually come to "the Island" for the "big" attractions, like the Cyclone and Luna Park.  But, for me, the real spirit of the place--in all of its grit and garishness, in the hustle of its carnival barkers and the pulsing of its shopowners'  hunger alongside the expanse of ocean--is in places like the shooting gallery, the sideshows and the old man--actually, he turned out to be exactly my age, save for a few days!--who sat in front of one of the padlocked doors.

He saw me riding and taking photos.  We talked.  He told me a bit about his life and how he ended up there, like a piece of driftwood on a more remote beach.  I assured him that what happened to him could happen to any one of us, myself included.  "I don't want to keep you," he said.

He wasn't keeping me.  I still have choices:  I would ride back to my neighborhood, where some would complain about restaurants and bars that aren't allowed to serve patrons indoors.  He would look for the bits of work--sweeping sidewalks, unloading trucks--the few still-open hot dog stands (Nathan's, and others) and other shops could offer him, and pay him a few dollars for. 

I rode to winter.  He was living in it. I rode home.

A Field Without Dreamers

This afternoon I rode, again, to and around Flushing Meadows-Corona Park. On my way back, I passed CitiField, where the New York Mets play their home games.

Though I’m seeing more vehicular traffic on the streets, I encountered an empty parking lot that, at this time of year, would normally be full.

The reason is that live fans aren’t allowed to attend games.  The players are. Instead, playing before cardboard cutout figures.

It’s hard to imagine such figures lining the route of the Tour de France or Giro d’Italia!

Nobody's Flying

Here in New York, some people have returned to their normal workplaces and most stores, bars and restaurants--at least, the ones that survived the shutdown--are open, if operating at a fraction of their normal capacities.

If anything, life is more restrictive for people coming into this city--or New York State--from about 30 other states or territories.  Visitors, or people returning from, those places are required to self-quarantine for 14 days.  An airline ticket, especially if it's purchased online (as most are these days), makes it easy  for authorities to track arrivals.

As a result, yesterday morning, I took 50 kilometre ride along the north shore of Queens and Nassau County--that is to say, directly under the paths of flights that would normally take off from or land in LaGuardia International Airport--and didn't see a single aircraft in the sky.

This brand-new LaGuardia terminal disproves, at least for now, the notion that "if you build it, they will come" (or go).

Or perhaps it shows that even if something has wings, it might not fly.

If even s/he isn't flying, who else is?

A Consequence Of The Current Bike Boom

By now, you've heard from me, Retrogrouch, other bloggers and various media outlets about the new "bike boom" spurred by the COVID-19 pandemic.

That "boom" means that bicycles as well as helmets, locks and other related items are scarce, or unavailable, due to disruptions in supply chains.  

About all I remember from my economics course is "supply and demand."  The professor, it seemed, intoned that phrase about three or for times every class.  

When there's more demand than supply, prices go up. Of course, you don't need an economics class to understand that--or that, in such circumstances, when demand continues to outstrip supply, enterprising folks will find ways to appropriate some of the supply.

That last clause is, as you know, a polite way of saying, in such a situation, some will steal--whether for themselves or to supply unmet demand. 

The thing is, victims of theft tend not to  care much about why someone steal from them.  They want their stuff back, or to be remunerated for it.  And, depending on their beliefs and temperament, they want the thief to be penalized. 

While bikes are stolen in "normal" (whatever that means anymore) times, whether from the street or a shop, it seems that, lately, there's been an increase in the number of shop break-ins---and the amount and dollar value of what's taken.

In the wee hours of Tuesday morning, a white pickup truck pulled up by Pearland Bicycles in Houston.  Someone emerged from the vehicle, crowbar in hand.  In prying open the store's glass door, he shattered it.  He and two accomplices ran inside and grabbed whatever they could.  Within minutes, they had about 20 bikes. Pearland owner Darryl Catching says he lost around $40,000 in the burglary.




Some of the bikes were already sold and waiting for customers to pick them up, he said.  So it is even more imperative for him to replace those bikes than if they had simply been standing in the showroom.

Because the thieves struck at 1:30 am, they had time.  How much? "Looks like one of them, he went to the restroom," Catching said.  

When He Couldn't Fly...

Day after day, flights home were canceled.

So what did Kleon Papadimitriou do?  He got on his bike.

He began in Scotland, where he's a University of Aberdeen student.  Forty-eight days and 4100 kilometers (about 2550 miles) later, he was back in his Athens neighborhood.



Before he embarked, he set up an app and Instagram account so supporters could follow his journey.   He packed bread and canned foods, he said, and pedaled between 55 and 120 kilometers a day on a trip that took him through Scotland, England, the Netherlands, Germany, Austria and Italy.  His journey included, in addition to the English Channel crossing, a boat ride from Italy's east coast to the Greek port of Patras.

It's now just dawning on him how much of an achievement his ride was, he says.  "I really hope that the trip inspired at least one more person to go out of their comfort zone and try something new, something big."

I couldn't help but to think he comes from a long line of people who would do whatever was necessary to get home.  At least it didn't take him 10 years, as it did for Odysseus, to reunite with his family, friends and everything else familiar to him!

(Odysseus never would have made it as a baseball player!)

One More Ride To Normal

We've all heard that, as a result of the COVID-19 epidemic, some things "won't be the same."  We have some ideas about some of the things that might change--schools, workplaces and such--but we also know that there will be changes that few, if any, of us can predict.

That, I believe, motivates us to want--and celebrate--a return to things that are familiar.

What I have just described can also describe recovering from a major illness, accident or other trauma.  At least, that's how I feel about the aftermath of my crash.

Finally getting on my bike last week, if only for a short ride, was a sign that at least something in my life was on its way to normalcy.  Riding again the other day--and making a dessert I've wanted to make for a long time--was another.

Yesterday I took another step--or ride, if you will--toward life as I knew it.

For the first time in more than a month, I pedaled to Point Lookout.  At 120 kilometers, give or take, it's the longest ride I've done since my accident.  

The good news is that in my neck and shoulders, where pain has persisted, feel better than they did yesterday or at any time in the past month.  I still feel some twinges and stiffness, but simply holding my head up doesn't tire me.  

I felt pretty good in general.  The only "bad news," if you can call it that, is that I felt more tired than I usually feel at the end of such a ride. Part of my fatigue was a result of not having done such a ride in more than a month.  Another part of my tiredness came from having pedaled into a fairly brisk wind from the southeast, under a bright sun, all the way to Point Lookout.  Of course, I had the wind at my back on my way home, but there was still nothing between me and solar rays but my sunscreen.

What I've said about the sun and wind isn't a complaint:  I could hardly have had a more beautiful day on which to complete one more step on my return to what is normal in my life.  I wonder what will change.

Storming And Social Distancing

How can you enjoy Bastille Day with "social distancing" in force?

There's always a way to celebrate a holiday.  (To me, cycling is a celebration!)  I have to wonder, though, whether there would be a Bastille Day had there been a social distancing regulation in 1789.

Then again, would people who storm a prison obey such a rule?

Paint, Polish and Patina

Today included a trip to Dollar Tree so I could stock up for the apocalypse.  No, as bad as some things are, we're not in it. At least, not in this part of the world and not yet.

Anyway, as I left--with toilet paper and hand sanitizer, among other things--I spotted this:

Its owner had left the store just before me.  She didn't speak English well and I don't know what, if any, other languages we might have had in common.  But at least she understood that I was looking at her bike and not trying to scam her--out of it or anything else.

After a bit of fumbling, I managed to ask whether the bike came with that finish.  An artist friend did it, she said.  And that friend is going to "fix" it for her soon.

As I write this, I'm thinking of that debate of whether a work of art should be hermetically sealed, as many museum pieces are, or left to public contact.  I rather liked that paint finish as it is, but I can understand why she'd want her friend to restore it.  I mean, I like bikes with patina and ones with shine. 

How Many Riders In An Event?

One of the most cynical comments ever made came from Joseph Stalin:  "If one man dies of hunger, that is a tragedy. If millions die, that's only statistics."

It does raise a valid question, though:  How many people constitute a "gathering?"  During the COVID-19 pandemic, the answer is literally life-and-death.

It seems that in most jurisdictions, that number is ten. (Coincidentally, that is the number it takes to make a minyan for a Jewish service or quorum for organizational meetings.)  A few places have raised that number to 50 or more; but for now that number seems to be ten.

What that means, of course, is that most sporting events and rallies are out of the question, with or without spectators.  Every annual or otherwise periodic bike ride I know of has been canceled or postponed for this year.  That includes the Portland Naked Bike Ride, originally scheduled for 27 June.

The thing is, public nudity is illegal in Portland, as it is in most places in the United States.  But the city allows the event to go on every year because of its official status as a protest.  The ride attracts around 10,000 riders a year and no police force, no matter how numerous or well-equipped, could cite or arrest all of them.  So the Portland police allow them to ride as long as they stay on the route with the rest of the riders.  

Now, one nude bike rider, that's a different story.  Comedian Trevor Noah brought up this point when ride organizers announced they are "encouraging everyone to go out and ride naked on their own."  Noah asked the most pertinent question: "Is that gonna work?"   He explained that if "there's 10,000 naked bike riders, that's an event."  But, he continued, " if there's one naked dude on a ten-speed?  You just nasty."



 
(part about Portland Naked Bike Ride begins at 3:00)
More to the point, though, an individual or even a small group of riders might not enjoy the same level of safety a mass of thousands would have.

So just how many riders does it take to make an event?  Can Trevor Noah answer that?

Memorial Day: Heroes And The Lionhearted

Today is Memorial Day in the US and some other countries.

Most of the commemorations that mark this day--the parades, airshows, ballgames and other gatherings--have been cancelled because of the COVID-19 pandemic.  I am sure many events are being held online and that, where restrictions have been lifted, people are having picnics and barbecues in their yards, in parks and on beaches. In that sense, at least, this Memorial Day is like earlier ones.

Another way in which this day is similar to earlier Memorial Days is that the word "heroes" will be used a lot.  Most of the time, it refers to those who fought, and sometimes died, in the nation's wars.  Now, while I believe that the only true advance the human race could ever make is to get rid of war and beat swords into ploughshares, as the book  of Isaiah implores us, I believe that those who gave their bodies, and lives, in service of human dignity deserve to be celebrated as heroes.  They include, among others, those who fought against Hitler (who, I believe, came closer than anyone else to embodying pure evil in this world) as well as those who are experiencing the trauma of treating people who are sick and dying from something we can't see.  Also included are those who are helping communities function, whether by making or delivering whatever goods or services people need, or helping others access those things.

The other day, I heard about another real hero.  She (Does anybody use the word "heroine" anymore?) hasn't worked in a hospital ward or nursing home because, to be fair, in most places she's not even old enough to get the education or training she'd need to do such things.  She also hasn't brought food to 90-year-olds languishing alone in their apartments or educated people about hygeine.  In fact, her courageous act had nothing to do with her larger community, although she has been feted as the "Lionhearted" throughout her country.

Jyoti Kumari is a 15-year-old girl from Sirhulli, a village near the Nepalese border.  Its state, Bihar, is one of the poorest in India, which is saying something.  Her father, Mohan Paswan, like many men from the area, is a migrant laborer who found himself out of work and stranded near New Delhi, about 700 miles away.  

He might've tried what many in his situation have tried: walking back to his home village.  Younger and healthier men have perished in their attempt to return to their families and friends:  They have been run down by trucks or trammeled by trains.  Or, they have simply collapsed in the brutal heat of the countryside.

Jyoti's dad was injured and barely able to walk--in addition to being out of work, almost out of money and without a means of transportation.  He could have been another casualty of the pandemic and, being of a low caste, some of the world's worst economic inequalities.  But, as it turned out, his daughter possesed qualities--ingenuity and sheer grit--that were more powerful than anything that he was suffering.

For the equivalent of $20--the last of their savings--she bought a purple bike.  She jumped on it and he perched on the rear.  Along their 1200-kilometer journey, she borrowed cellphones to deliver this message: "Don't worry, mummy.  I will get Papa home good."

Jyoti Kumar, her father and the bike.  From BBC Hindi.

(I think that should be an inscription on a medal:  The Purple Bicycle?)

That she did.  To say it wasn't easy would be an understatement: While Jyoti is strong and confident on a bike, having done a lot of riding in and around her village, she was hauling her father, a big man with a big bag, through unrelenting sun.  Just as daunting, perhaps, as the weather and terrain were the taunts she endured from locals who believed it was ridiculous or just wrong for a girl to pedal while her father sat in the back.

But there were also strangers who helped them.  Also, by the time they got home, the news of their journey had spread all over the media--and Onkar Singh, who called her while she was resting up.

Mr. Singh is the chairman of the Cycling Federation of India.  He's invited her to New Delhi for a tryout with the national team.  "She has great talent," he said.

She said she's "elated" and really wants to go.

Jyoti Kumari has certainly earned the opportunity.  And, I believe, Onkar Singh knows a hero when he sees one.

Bikeways To The Future: I Hope Not!

Last week, I wrote about the current bicycle shortage and compared it to a similar scarcity during the 1970s Bike Boom.  Then, I waited three months for my Schwinn Continental, not a custom-built frame.  Today I want to talk about another parallel between then and now.

There probably was never a time, save for the 1890s (or now), when everyday people were more aware of cycling and cyclists as they were from about 1969 to 1974.  Back then, governments at every level from counties to the nation were floating plans to build "bikeways" (as bike lanes were called then) to, perhaps, an even greater degree than we see today.  

Back then, regular cyclists included Dr. Paul Dudley White, President Eisenhower's personal physician and a founder of the American Heart Association; Stewart Udall, the Secretary of the Interior under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson and one of the founders of modern environmental movements; and John Volpe, Secretary of Transportation.  Also among their number was Carl Bernstein, who helped to expose the Watergate scandal and, much to his chagrin, one of the Watergate "burglars" he exposed!

As transportation writer Carlton Reid notes, the 1970s Bike Boom offers hope, as well as cautionary tales, for today's "Boom".  One hopeful sign is that while, in some areas, cyclists are stereotyped as overprivileged milennials or hipsters--the bohoisie or bourgemians, if you will:  the very antithesis of a rebellion against consumer capitalism--back in the day, adult riders  were labelled as "bike freaks" who were hippies, commies or worse.  

More to the point, though, too many decisions about bicycle policy were being made by people who weren't cyclists and, worse, didn't have the collective memory, if you will, of cycling that Europeans and people in other parts of the world could  draw upon.  So there was an emphasis on "bikeways" that separated cyclists completely, not only from motorized traffic, but the community in general:  They were good for leisurely weekend rides, but not for transportation.  That is one reason why the massive bike sales of the early 1970s (which dwarfed mountain bike sales during their late 1980s-eary 1990s boom) did not translate into a culture in which bicycles were an integral part.  Once the "boom" ended, many people hung up their bikes for good.

That ignorance of cycling extended to law enforcement officials, as it too often does now.  I have been stopped by cops who insisted I broke the law when I didn't and that I should engage in practices that actually endanger cyclists, such as riding all the way to the right and following traffic signals when crossing busy intersections.

Also, as Reid points out, while bikes from that era are called "vintage" and sell for high prices on eBay, the fact is that most bikes sold during that time were of low quality.  In other words, when most people bought Schwinns or Raleighs (if they didn't buy department-store bikes), they weren't buying Internationals or Paramounts, they were shelling out their money for Records or Varsities--or for any number of low-end models from makers like Atala or any number of smaller companies that haven't been heard from since.  Most people never learned to even fix a flat, let alone take care of more complex problems, so when things went wrong, they never got fixed.  Moreover, most of the bikes sold really weren't designed for the way people were riding them.  That is why, for example, lower-end ten-speeds came with brake extension (a.k.a. "suicide") levers:  Most casual cyclists are better off with upright or flat handlebars than on drop bars.

So, Reid cautions that we must learn that--as Richard Ballantine argued in his 1972 book--"bikeways" alone are not  alone the answer.  For one thing, it's much better to take lanes and streets from vehicular traffic and to raise awareness of cyclists, pedestrians and motorists alike of cyclists' right to ride.  So are bikes that are suited to the riders' needs and inclinations.  Otherwise, a lot of the bikes purchased today will be hanging in rafters--or buried in landfills--by 2030.

Rue de Rivoli: An Axis For Cyclists

There's nothing like cycling in France (or even my memories of it) to make my heart sing.  And even though one has to contend with traffic and other inconveniences one encounters in other large cities, cyclists in Paris are at least not seen as freaks or intruders, and are treated with respect.

Still, there are some streets in the City of Light that aren't for the faint of heart.  One of them, until recently, was the Rue de Rivoli.  Of course, no trip to Paris is complete without a walk or ride along its most famous streets, which runs from rue de Sevigne (near the Place de la Bastille) to the Place de la Concorde, and includes the Louvre, Tuilieries gardens, Le Marais and numerous hotels, restaurants, stores and bakeries tucked into dazzling belle epoque buildings.  I have cycled this route, one of the first "straight-arrow" streets in Paris, numerous time.  But I must say that I wasn't intimidated because I've cycled Fifth Avenue, Broadway and other major venues in my hometown, as well as some of the major arteries of other major cities.

Now I wish I were there: It's closed to traffic.  That closure is part of Mayor Anne Hidalgo's efforts to encourage cycling and walking, particularly as the Metro and buses are running on COVID pandemic-induced restrictions.  "I would like there to be an axis dedicated exclusively to bikes and another reserved only for buses, taxis, emergency vehicles and craftsmens' vehicles, but not cars," she told reporters.

Mayor Hidalgo has said that the closure will continue through the summer, but could be made permanent.  

Imagine A City Of Cyclists

Today I am going to take you to a city with an international airport named after a Beatle.  To my knowledge, it's the only such city.

You may have guessed that city is Liverpool, England.  Now I'll give you a clue as to which Beatle has the honor:  Its mayor has said the time has come to be "as radical as possible."

Which member of the Fabulous Four are you most likely to associate with the word "radical?"  John Lennon, of course.

All right, I admit that I took his quote just a little out of context.  And, of course, I can't take you to Liverpool:  Not even the airlines can do that right now.  For that matter, there aren't many places the airlines can take you now.

But, as I used to tell kids for whom I did creative writing workshops, your imagination can take you anywhere.  If you can imagine (There's another John Lennon word!), you can.  

And, it seems that Mayor Joe Anderson is doing just that. He is pleased with the improvement of his city's air quality since the lockdowns began.  More important, he imagines maintaining it.  More important still, he understands what needs to be done in order to keep its skies the clearest they've been since the Industrial Revolution began.

Mayor Anderson has just green-lit 2 million GBP to improve cycling in the city by introducing up to 100 km of pop-up lanes.  He gave his approval as the city has already begun a 45 million GBP redesign of the center city that includes 11 km of permanent bike lanes. 

While that will make the city's center more bikeable and walkable in the long-term, the "pop up" lanes are intended, in part, to help in the city's recovery from the pandemic.  It comes at a time when the UK Government is encouraging local councils to improve cycling and walking structure as public transport will be operating on very limited schedules due to social distancing guidelines.

All of this, it seems, comes from a recognition of a question I've raised about in a couple of recent posts:  Of those who have taken up cycling during the pandemic, how many will continue once things return to "normal?"  

As I have mentioned, during the 1966 and 1980 New York City transit strikes, some people cycled to work.  But once subway and bus service returned to normal, they hung up, sold, gave away or discarded their bikes.  I maintain that in 1966, few adults cycled in the US and there was no cycling infrastructure; by 1980, more adults pedaled but there was little infrastructure.  On the other hand, after the 2005 transit strike, many new cycle commuters continued to ride to work and school, in part because there was more of a cycling culture--and more infrastructure--than existed during the earlier labor stoppages.

Mayor Anderson seems to recognize that some Liverpudlians who took up cycling or walking are enjoying favorable conditions, with far fewer motorized vehicles on the city's streets than one normally encounters.  Once shops, offices and other workplaces, and schools, re-open, traffic volumes could creep back up to pre-pandemic levels.  And once public transport returns to a full schedule, people will return to commuting on buses and trains.  Some of the newly-minted cyclists and pedestrians could be enticed to continue walking and riding if there are spaces in which they feel safe while riding, and other infrastructure (bike repair stations?) to support them.

"The COVID pandemic has impacted our way of life beyond imagination but the challenges it has presented has also provided us with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to re-imagine how we use and travel within our cities," Mayor Anderson says.

"Imagine."  "Reimagine."  How appropriate for a city that named its airport after John Lennon.

(Thanks to regular commenter "Voyage of the Eye" for alerting me to this story.)

The New Toilet Paper?

Today's post relates, at least somewhat, to yesterday's.

As I mentioned, bikes are in short supply all over the world as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic.  With transit systems on severely restricted schedules, or shut down altogether, many vital workers are pedaling to work and people are using their bikes to get to appointments and whatever stores are still open.

One result is that some communities have declared bicycle shops as essential businesses.  If you're reading this blog, that designation seems self-evident.  Some people, however, seem to disagree--and have some ideas that are, to put it charitably, interesting about what constitutes an "essential" business. (Tatoo parlors? Golf courses?)

This conflict came to head in Normal, a central Illinois town of 55,000 people that is home to the main campus of Illinois State University.  Its mayor, Chris Koos, has threatened to hand out summonses to anyone who doesn't follow the State of Illinois order to maintain social distance--or any open business not deemed "essential" by the State.  So far, that doesn't sound like anything officials haven't done in other parts of the world.

Also not unusual  are the the protests against his mandate, or the fact that many of the protestors--some of whom started a Facebook group and even made death threats--own or work in hair salons and other businesses deemed "not essential."  I have never been to Normal, but I imagine at least some of them associate bicycles with the college, which they equate with privilege.

As Mayor Koos has said, they don't understand that many people depend on bicycles for transportation, in much the same way people see their cars as necessities.  Also, most cyclists were, in effect, "social distancing" before it was required.

Last week, a group of protestors gathered near the Vitesse bike shop to decry the shop's--and other bike retailers'--opening.  

Why did they choose to gather at Vitesse?  Well, it just happens that Mayor Koos has owned it for the past 42 years.  He and his employees have received death threats, and the shop's website has been "bombed".  He, however, came up with a creative response to the threats and protests.

"PROTESTER FLASH SALE," the banner read. "Protesters Only 5-6 p.m.  Bikes Parts and Accessories on Sale!"

None took the bait.  Koos seems to expect as much:  "It was as much a joke as anything."  But, he says, he would have given the protesters sale prices for whatever they wanted.

The protesers didn't take him up on his offer, but many others didn't need such a lure.  Since the pandemic hit, Koos explains, sales have been up 71 percent and the shop gets "constant service requests."  Like Charlie McCorkle and other shop owners, he says he can't get enough bikes to keep up with demand.

 "Bikes are the new toilet paper, " he says.

Where Are The Bikes?

There is a national bike shortage, unlike anything I have seen before. This is due to increased demand and extensive disruptions to the supply chain. My advice: when you see something that you like – BUY IT. I expect to have a very limited inventory of our most popular bicycles very soon.

That message came from Charlie McCorkle, co-founder and owner of the Bicycle Habitat shops here in New York.  He is echoing somthing I've heard and read from sources all over this country, as well as in England, France and other places:  The shutdown or limited schedules in effect on transit systems, restrictions on travel and increased numbers of people working from home (or not at all) have boosted the demand for bicycles.  People who haven't been astride two wheels in decades are mounting saddles and pushing pedals to get to their jobs in hospitals, nursing homes, shipping centers and other places where essential work is done.  Other folks are riding bikes to shop at whatever places are open, and I've noticed more families (or, at least, adults and children) riding together than I can ever recall seeing.

But the restrictions on travel--and employees who are too sick to work or are self-quaranitining--mean that bicycle manufacturers, importers, wholesalers and shippers means that fewer bikes are being produced, and whatver bikes are produced are slower to arrive in shops.  Moreover, most bike dealers are, ironically, remaining open for fewer hours, and with fewer employees (due to social distancing regulations), so it takes longer for bikes to go from their shipping cartons to the shop floor.

This situation reminds me of the 1970s North American Bike Boom.  At its peak--around 1972-73--domestic manufacturers simply couldn't crank out bikes, and importers couldn't bring them to this country, quickly enough.  Customers frequently had months-long wait times for popular models from major brands.  I know, because I was one of those customers:  I placed a deposit on a Schwinn Continental in July 1972, just after my birthday, and didn't receive it until the middle of October. 

Back then, companies simply couldn't keep pace for a sudden surge in demand.  This time, though, the capacity is there, but the people aren't.  Also, during the Bike Boom, most bikes purchased in the US were made in-country or came from Europe or Japan.  Now, the vast majority of bikes and bike-related items sold here come from China or Southeast Asia, where production has decreased or stopped altogether.  So, while the bike shortage of the Bike Boom didn't extend to other pars of the market or economy, bikes are in short supply now for the same reasons medical suppliles and other goods are hard to find right now.

When Things Return To "Normal"

Yesterday, this article caught my attention.

Since 2010, cycling fatalities have been on the rise as driver and passenger fatalities have reached all-time lows.  During the decade, the number of cyclists has increased.  So has the number of motor vehicles on the road.  Those trends, in themselves, may not be considered causes in the increased number of cyclist deaths.  

One factor, I believe, is that drivers are more distracted:  If I had a nickel for every time I saw someone looking at a screen instead of the street, I could rescue Mavic.  I have also experienced increasing hostilty from drivers, who sometimes resent cyclists whom they see as privileged, entitled or any other negative stereotype you've heard about milennials. (All right, I still don't see what's the big deal about avocado toast.)  Moreover, at the risk of seeming as if I'm stereotyping, I think that the rise of Uber, Lyft and other ride-share companies has put more reckless or simply bad drivers, and unsafe cars, on the road.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, most streets have been blissfully free of traffic. So, it will be interesting to see how statistics from March and April of this year compare with the same months of recent years.  Will there be fewer injuries and fatalities?  And, if there are, will the unfortunate "normal" levels return once traffic becomes as dense as it was before the shutdowns?

Then again, I wonder whether traffic will return to previous levels.  Some companies might decide that people who are working from home can continue to do so--or that they don't need those employees after all.  If that happens, I hope all of those newly-displaced workers don't become Uber or Lyft drivers!