Ghost Bikes: More Dangerous Than Guns?

When kids are shot to death in school, “thoughts and prayers” are offered. But when anyone suggests making it more difficult to obtain firearms—especially assault weapons—some of the same folks who grace those kids with their “thoughts and prayers”  grow apoplectic: They rage about “losing” their “Second Amendment Rights” and argue that a school shooting now and then is a “price” we have to pay for “freedom.”

I would bet that among such stalwart defenders of our “rights” are the ones ordering that a “ghost” bike be removed from its place by a school because students would be traumatized by seeing it.

This scenario is unfolding at Sugar Mill Elementary School in Port Orange, Florida. Tara Okhovatian placed the memorial to ShaoLan Kamaly, a 10-year old who was struck and killed as she rode her bike to school last spring. Okhovatian is a friend of Kamaly’s family and said her son loved playing with ShaoLan, who said she didn’t like princesses because they “don’t do anything but wait for guys to save them.”

Okhovatian tried to save her memory. But she has been ordered to remove the makeshift shrine or law enforcement would “retrieve” it.

Ah, where else but in Florida, where it’s easier to get a gun than almost anyplace that’s not an active war zone, but helping kids remember their classmate is deemed too dangerous?

A Year And 500 Miles

 In a previous post, I said that the easiest way to get away with killing someone in North America is to run over a cyclist or pedestrian with a car, truck or other motorized vehicle.  For one thing, dead victims can’t testify for themselves. For another, planning, policy and law enforcement have prioritized moving vehicular traffic as quickly and efficiently as possible. Cyclists and pedestrians are seen as “getting in the way” of that goal. And, oftimes, law enforcement officials simply don’t care.

So—call me a cynic—I am surprised when a reckless driver faces justice for ending one of our rides—even if said driver is impaired or can be shown to have intended harm or was simply negligent.

Therefore, learning that Jessica Hendrickson was arrested yesterday in western Kentucky seemed almost fantastical. Surveillance cameras placed an alert on her vehicle tag, locating her at Exit 86 on Interstate 24. There, Oak Grove police apprehended her.

She struck and killed 61-year old Navy veteran Jeff Nichols—on 10 June 2023 near Pensacola, Florida. In other words, she was on the run for more than a year after killing a cyclist about 500 miles (800 kilometers) from where she was taken into custody.

According to the Western Kentucky Star, she is being “lodged” (Don’t you love that term?) in the Christian County Jail. She faces a charge of being a fugitive from another state.

Stealing, And Recovering, A Memory Of Him

Yesterday I wrote about Kevin Hebert, the disabled US Air Force veteran whose specially-made bike was stolen--and, thankfully, recovered. In telling about his ordeal, I paraphrased Tom Cuthbertson, who wrote that stealing a bike from someone is one of the lowest things one human can do to another.

That got me to thinking about the question of whether some bike thefts and thieves are more depraved than others.  Almost anyone who rides a bike loves or depends on it--or both.  But some bikes, victims and methods of stealing provoke more disgust and outrage than others.

I'm thinking now about--are you ready for this?--the swiping of a "ghost" bike.  If you ride in almost any city, you've seen one:  painted entirely in white, usually with a sign commemorating a cyclist killed by a driver attached to it.  Of course, they're almost always locked to a signpost or other immobile object.  Even so, they aren't invulnerable to pilferage.  

Such a fate befell the "ghost bike" left at the corner of 134th Street and Pacific Avenue in Parkland, Washington.  Nearby, at 134th and State Route 7, 13-year-old Michael Weilert was crossing on his bicycle in July when a someone drove into the crosswalk and struck him.

As if losing her child weren't bad enough, Amber Weilert  went by the intersection, as she often does, and "was shocked to see it wasn't here" after someone cut the locks and absconded with the memorial to her son.

Fortunately for her, and her family and community, an employee at a local scrap yard recognized the bike and returned it to Weilert's family.

So...while stealing one bike might or might not be worse than stealing another, it's hard to think of a more morally bankrupt bike theft than that of a disabled veteran's wheels--or a "ghost" bike.

How Many "Drips" Will It Take To Wash Away A Stroad?

Charles Marohn's book is called The Confessions of a Recovering Engineer.  In it, the former road designer and transportation planner describes how conventional American traffic engineering makes people and communities less safe, destroys the fabric of communities, bankrupts towns and cities and exacerbates the very problems--like congestion--engineers like himself were trying to solve.

His greatest disdain is for what he calls "stroads."  I mentioned them in an August post. Think of them as Franken-lanes:  They are supposed to be streets in cities and towns but in reality are highways with multiple lanes of high-speed traffic.  (Even if the speed limit is more like that of an urban or residential street--say, 30 mph (50 kph), drivers are often sprinting at twice that between lights.) They are usually lined with big-box stores and other businesses that provide a steady stream of cars and trucks pulling in and out of the lanes.

Examples of "stroads" in my area are the Hempstead Turnpike, which I wrote about in an earlier post, West Street (a.k.a. Route 9A) in Manhattan and, even closer to home, Northern and Queens Boulevards.  A particularly egregious example of a "stroad" is US 19 on Florida's Gulf Coast.  

In some places, particularly in the southern and western US states, cyclists use "stroads" because there are few or no alternative routes.  Even if a cyclist is not riding along the route itself, he or she probably will need to cross it because, as Mahron points out, they often divide downtown areas, leaving, say, a store somebody frequents on one side and a doctor or other service provider on the other.  Or said cyclist might live on one side of the stroad and want to go to a park or movie theatre--or need to get to school or work--on the other side.

Michael Weilert discovered this danger the hard way.  He was crossing, with his bicycle, one such stroad--Pacific Avenue (a.k.a. State Route 7) in Tacoma, Washington--when he was struck and killed in a crosswalk.  Last week, a hundred people gathered for a silent ride at the site where Michael's life ended after only 13 years.

Photo by Carla Gramlich for Strong Towns

While such tragedies motivate the families, friends and immediate communities of victims, they don't lead to fundamental change because of what Marohn calls the "drip, drip, drip" effect.  When hundreds of people are killed, say, in a plane crash or building collapse, it gets the attention of planners, policy-makers and, sometimes, politicians.  On the other hand, incidents like the one that claimed young Michael Weilert usually claim one, or a few victims, so they receive less notice.

How many more "drips" will it take before those in authority see a tidal wave?

 

Cyclists Killed, Victims Blamed

This blog is twelve years old.  During that time, I've argued--fairly consistently, I believe--that bike lanes and other physical forms of "bicycle infrastructure" aren't, by themselves, enough to make cycling safer or to encourage people to trade one pedal and four wheels for two pedals and two (or three) wheels, if only for short trips.

The most important form of "bicycle infrastructure" is, I believe, attitudes and policies and about cycling and cyclists.  As I've done before, I'm going to make a comparison between victims of sexual crimes and victims of motorists' aggression or carelessness against cyclists. (I've been both.)  In both cases, victims have been blamed, implicitly or explicitly, for what happened to them.

Photo by Tim Grist

Although some attitudes have changed, it's still not unusual for some people to wonder aloud what someone "was doing on the street at that time of night" or was wearing at the time she, he or they were attacked. Or, worse, to blame the victim's sexual orientation or gender presentation for the attack.  And the ways in which too many police officers treat victims re-traumatizes them and discourages others from reporting attacks against them.

Similarly, when an intoxicated or distracted driver runs down a cyclist, or when any driver uses a bike lane as a parking or passing lane, the cyclist or bicycling is, too often blamed, again, whether explicitly or implicitly.  The former happened after a woman driving an SUV in Houston struck and killed an eight-year-old boy on a bicycle.  In response, the Texas Department of Public Safety issued a statement that he "was riding his bike in an area that isn't safe for pedestrians or people riding bikes."

As it turns out, the boy was crossing an intersection where the driver had a stop sign.  So, in brief, the Texas DPS blamed the boy for riding--to school?  home?--as so many other kids, and adults, do.

The bike- and cyclist-blaming is also extended to users of any form of transportation that isn't an automobile.  Pedestrians have also been similarly held culpable for crossing a street when a driver blew through a red light.  And, in Bloomington, Indiana--home to Indiana University--a student was killed while riding a scooter in a bike lane.  How did the city respond?  It decided to limit scooter use.

The real infrastructure improvement, if you will, the city needs is for its planners and policy makers to shift their goals away from moving as many cars or trucks as possible as quickly as possible from one point to another. In other words, they need to stop thinking that the car is king--and to spread the message that motorists share space with cyclists, pedestrians, scooter-users--and folks in wheelchairs or walkers.

To be fair, just about every other US municipality, even if it's deemed "bike friendly," needs to make such a shift. Otherwise, kids riding their bikes to school or adults riding to work or for exercise will be blamed when they're run down by people who drink or text while they drive, or use bike lanes for parking or passing.

A Bike Lane To His Death

In earlier posts, I have lamented "bike lanes to nowhere."  They start or end without warning or don't provide safe or convenient routes to any place a cyclist--whether he or she is pedaling for transportation, recreation or training--might actually want or need to go.  Such lanes, I have argued, will do nothing to encourage people to trade four wheels and one pedal for two wheels and two pedals, even for short trips.

The worst such "lanes to nowhere" are not mere inconveniences; they are veritable deathtraps.  Such ribbons of illusory safety end by merging into traffic. The most perilous paths of all lead cyclists onto multiple lanes of cars, SUVs, trucks and other motorized vehicles traveling at high speed.  In the most dire of scenarios, there is no way for cyclists to avoid such a merge and no other way to anywhere else but the road onto which the path merges.

Although I have never seen it, I feel confident that my description fits the Longview Lake loop in Kansas City.  Longtime cyclist Athol Barnes' delight at the Loop's construction was muted because he noticed exactly the flaw I've described. As cyclists approach the intersection of SW Longview Road from the north, along View High Drive, the bike lane runs out past the intersection of East 109th Street, forcing cyclists to merge onto the road with drivers.

Charles Criniere (in cap) with his wife Megan and nine of his ten children.

He became especially worried about that merge after he encouraged his friend, Charles Criniere to start riding.  The middle-school teacher and father of 10 started by accompanying Barnes on early-morning rides during which they talked about the things that mattered to them:  family, faith, youth and eighth-grade math students. 

Criniere quickly gained cycling savvy, but Barnes' worst fears came true the Saturday before last.  Around 6:15 am, police were called to the intersection I mentioned earlier in this post.  A vehicle, which police believe to be a white Acura MDX, fled the scene.

Criniere was declared dead.  Police are looking for the driver.

In this photo, the photographer, Jeremy Van Deventer rides past a memorial for Charles Criniere.

Although he is glad the city is creating more bike lanes, Barnes also knows--and this incident confirms--what I've long known:  All else being equal, cyclists are safer on the road, and the real hazards are drivers, who aren't cognizant of, or are hostile to, cyclists and are driving bigger vehicles faster and distractedly.

How Many?

 An unfortunate fact of our lives is that we don’t have to wait very long or look very far to hear or read about a cyclist injured or killed by a motorist.

An online article from the Tampa Bay Times, however, grabbed my attention because its headline began with these two words: “Impaired Driver.”  

Brian Thomas was driving a 2017 Mitsubishi Outlander southbound along Seminole Drive.  Around 11:3O pm on Saturday, Nole Karcher was walking his bicycle across the Drive. 

Shortly afterwards, Karcher was declared dead at the scene and Thomas was in custody. 

Though there was no evidence of alcohol, Thomas failed some sobriety exercises and refused to take others, according to the Pinellas County Sheriff’s Office.  That led to deputies searching and finding several pills including clonezpam, a tranquilizer used to treat anxiety and seizures.  

Clonezpam is a controlled substance and Thomas did not produce a prescription.  So, in addition to a charge of causing death while driving under the influence, he is facing charges of illegal possession.  Oh, and according to the Sheriff’s Office, speed was also “a factor” in the crash.

While reading the account, I started to wonder:  In how many incidents of motorists running down cyclists is driver impairments the, or a, major factor? I suspect the number, or at least the percentage, is high.  

Mayor Wants To Hold Motorist Accountable In Latest Cyclist Death

Too often, a motorist kills or maims a cyclist and gets not much more than a traffic summons--or a sympathetic pat on the back from a police officer. 

The cynic in me, and other cyclists, believed that Umar Baig would be the latest such driver.  Last Sunday, in Brooklyn, he sped through a red light on Coney Island Avenue. Another driver, traveling on Avenue L, T-boned his car.  Both vehicles spun out of control. One of them struck 52-year-old Jose Alzorriz of Park Slope, who became the 19th cyclist killed on New York City streets in 2019.  

Baig was briefly held and released.  The NYPD says it will charge him, but they did not say with what. Presumably, they will come to a determination after working with the Brooklyn District Attorney.

If Mayor Bill de Blasio has his way, Baig will not be the next driver to get tea and sympathy, and maybe a ticket.  "If you kill someone through your negligence, maybe that's not murder one, I'm not a lawyer, but I'd say it should be a serious, serious charge, with many years in prison" he declared. "It's not that that something unavoidable happened," he explained. "He blew through a red light at high speed, and someone is gone now, a family is grieving."

Let's hope that the Brooklyn DA and the NYPD see the situation as the Mayor has seen it.   Already, nearly twice as many cyclists have been killed in 2019--with more than a third of the year to go--as in all of 2018.

Cyclists' Safety: It Became Personal For Her

Yesterday, I wrote about how a beloved member of his cycling community is being commemorated:  The University of Texas at San Antonio opened the Tito Bradshaw Bicycle Repair Shop in a former information booth.

The reason why he's being commemorated is, unfortunately, terrible:  He was killed by an intoxicated driver while riding his bike.

Sometimes, it seems, it takes the death of a cyclist or pedestrian to bring the issue home and spur people into action--that is, when someone isn't trying to blame the cyclist, or cyclists in general, even if the driver was drunk, high, distracted or driving with a suspended license (or no license at all).  

For Chesley Ann Epley Cobbs (Does that sound like a Southern name, or what?), the issue of safety came home, literally, when her brother was killed while riding his bicycle in Oklahoma City.  


As personal as the issue is for her, she made the point that cyclists' safety is vital to the redevelopment of her city.  "Having safe and protected bike lanes connecting our downtown communities secures the safety of getting to and from those places of well-being and entertainment that you are working so hard to build and elevate our great state," she said in a hearing at City Hall.

She found a receptive audience in at least two City Council members.  One, Jo Beth Hamon, described rides that "should take minutes" but take much longer because "going through the neighborhoods, there was no connection" between bike lanes.  As a result, she had to cross major thoroughfares, including a highway, to take what is a typical days' ride for her.

Another Council Member, James Cooper, connected the safety of cyclists and pedestrians to the overall livability of the city.  In addition to a lack of cycling infrastructure, he said that sidewalks are unsafe "in even our most walkable neighborhood, award-winning neighborhood."  He wondered how "a child" could "get safely to school, to a park" in the conditions he described.

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The Council members and Ms. Epley Cobbs spoke at a public proposal meeting on how to spend public funding earmarked for public facilities.  I hope that others in the decision-making process--in other places as well as Oklahoma City--understand what Ms. Epley Cobbs, Ms. Hamon and Mr. Cooper are trying to say:  Ensuring the safety of people who get around without motor vehicles is a vital part of a modern city's development, or redevelopment.  

Tito Bradshaw: Keeping Up His Memory, And Work

Every community needs to memorialize its heroes, advocates, champions and friends.  In that way, we in the cycling community are no different.

We're not (at least here in the US) yet at the point of having monuments, buildings, streets, plazas or even corners named after bicycling advocates.  But we may be moving in that direction, if in small ways and a few locations.

One of those locales is San Antonio--specifically, the University of Texas campus in that city.  There, an old information booth has been turned into the Tito Bradshaw Bicycle Repair Shop.

Tito Bradshaw/. Photo by Scott Ball.

Now, the fact that a campus structure has been re-purposed as a bicycle repair shop shows us that the bicycling community has some sort of presence at the school.  Just as important, the fact that it's been named after Tito Bradshaw means that at least some people within that community--and at least a few outside it--know about his work as an activist and the owner of Bottom Bracket Bicycle Shop.

Plans to convert the booth into a repair shop were already in the works when, in May, he was struck and killed by an intoxicated  driver while riding his bicycle.  He was only 35 years old.  Now, we can hope, his work and community spirit will continue--and expand.

Cyclists on bridge memorialize Tito Bradshaw. Photo by Bonnie Arbitter.

Death For Bike Messenger, Tea And Sympathy For Driver

Warning:  The video near the end of this post may be too much for some of you to take.

A couple of years ago, a woman was attacked and raped not far from where I live.  She'd been walking home at 3:45 on a Sunday morning when she was set upon by a group of young men who dragged her into a darkened parking lot.

Most people were, rightly, outraged.  But a few, even at such a late date and liberal neighborhood, asked, "What was she doing out at that time?"

The explanation, it turned out, almost exactly matched what I'd surmised:  She'd been working a Saturday night shift at a bar.   To the question of why she didn't take a cab or Uber or something, the answer was simple:  She lived only a block and a half away from the bar and had never before encountered any trouble.

It was a chilling reminder of the days, which I remember, when the first questions people--even other women--asked upon hearing of a sexual attack were, "What was she wearing?"  "What was she doing there at that hour?"  The implication was, of course, that she'd "asked for it"--even if the woman had been wearing "scrubs" and was in front of a church in the middle of the afternoon. (Yes, I heard of such a case once!)

I found myself thinking about such victims after a story  that made news in our area:  A 20-year-old female bike messenger was struck and killed yesterday morning, just as the workweek was beginning, in the bustling Flatiron district of Manhattan.

One reason I found myself thinking about the rape victims I mentioned is that news coverage seemed to emphasize two major points, one being that the messenger was a young woman.  Some of the coverage expressed more grief, if in a patronizing way, than she might've received had she checked the "M" box.   But some of those same reports--and, of course, other coverage--seemed to convey a tone of suspicion and scorn reserved for the rape victims I mentioned.  You could almost hear some news editor wondering, "What was she doing, working a job like that?"

The other salient point of the coverage, which also turned into another way to blame the victim, was that she was riding "in the middle of the street" and "not in a bike lane" when she was struck.

Robyn Hightman

I am very familiar with the block--Sixth Avenue between West 23th and 24th Streets--where the Robyn Hightman, recently relocated from Virginia, lost her life.  There is indeed a bike lane, which is frequently congested.  Anyone who makes deliveries, whether on foot, bike or in a motorized vehicle, knows that it's all about speed.  A messenger simply can't move quickly enough in a lane crowded with tourists on Citibikes.  

More to the point, though, is that the way the bike lane, like most others in this city, is designed.  Because it's at the curb's edge, and the "stop" line at each intersection is the same for bikes as it is for motor vehicles, turns--which you make a lot of if you're a messenger--can be dangerous if a motor vehicle is turning in the same direction.  This arrangement also makes crossing major intersection--23rd Street at Sixth Avenue is one--difficult, if not dangerous.

Moreover, when there are flexible or no barriers--as is the case on the Sixth Avenue lane--delivery vehicles and Ubers frequently pull in and out, especially in as busy an area as the one I'm mentioning. 

What makes the shaming of Robyn Hightman all the more galling is that the driver of the vehicle, who claimed he didn't know he hit her, got off with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from a police officer who arrived at the scene.  The driver claims this incident is his first "accident" (the word he used) in 14 years of driving for his employer.  An investigation, however, revealed that the truck he was driving has been cited with 83 summonses since 2015.  Most were for parking violations, but at least two were for speeding.



In 2018, ten cyclists were killed by motorists on New York City streets.  Robyn Hightman was the 12th in 2019, and the year isn't half-over.  And the driver got tea and sympathy--along with an assurance he wasn't in trouble--from an NYPD officer.

Death While Training For A Memorial

For the past several years, Florida has been the state in which a cyclist has the greatest chance of being killed by a motorist.

That point was underscored, for me, by a story that came my way.  The other day, Deputy Sheriff Frank Scofield was training for a memorial ride to honor 9/11 victims when he was--you guessed it--struck from behind. 

The motorist who ended his life on a county road blew through a stop sign. But that motorist wasn't a "good ol' boy" in a pickup truck or some drunken sunburned youth.  Rather, the driver in question is 75-year-old Lajos Toth of Lake Helen.

Deputy Sheriff Frank Scofield

The road where Deputy Scofield took his last ride is County Road 415 in Volusia County.  You might the collision "hit home" for me because Volusia is the county directly south of the one in which my parents live.  Just about every time I visit my parents, at least one bike ride takes me into the county, which includes Daytona and Ormond Beaches and The Casements.  

Frank Scofield was training for a ride to commemorate 9/11 victims.  Now I am writing a post to remember him.

Where Cycling Isn't All Sunshine

For years, Florida has had, by far, the highest death rate for cyclists and pedestrians of any US state.  One study found that in 2012, as many cyclists were killed by motor vehicles in the Sunshine State as in Great Britain, which is roughly the same size, but has three times as many people and about as many more cyclists.

So, perhaps, it is no surprise that the Tampa Bay area has the highest cyclist fatality rate of any metropolitan area in the US, and that Pinellas--one of the four counties that comprises the area--has the highest rate of any county.

Florida's and the Tampa Bay Area's statistics are part of a study conducted by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration and reported yesterday in The Wall Street Journal.   

The article also included another interesting and disturbing--for folks who cycle in Florida (as I do for a few days every year), anyway.  Of the 50 major metropolitan areas in the US, the four with the highest rates of cyclists killed by motor vehicles--Tampa Bay-St. Petersburg, Jacksonville, Orlando and Miami--are all in Florida.  

I have cycled in Miami and near Jacksonville and Orlando.  For all the pleasure I've had in riding in those places, I can't say I'm surprised.  I do exercise more caution when I cycle in the land of manatees and armadillos than I employ even in New York, my hometown, or Paris.  I have my reasons.

For one thing, Florida, like much of the southern and western US, has an infrastructure and culture that is more auto-centric than they are in The Big Apple.  Although there are many nice side roads and trails, many of them are accessible only by highways or other heavily-trafficked roads.  And those main roads, as often as not, don't have a shoulder, let alone a dedicated bike lane.

Also, while there are more vehicles in New York than in any Florida city, people from the Keys to the Panhandle drive more often and longer.  That means traffic that can be as heavy as--and less regulated than--its counterparts in Northeastern or West Coast metropoli.

That also means drivers are more likely to be driving only themselves.  In my experience, solo drivers are more likely to take risks or simply lapse in concentration than drivers with passengers.

And, as we all know, Florida is a haven for senior citizens.  I have found nearly all of them to be careful, courteous drivers.  But--and I mean no offense to any seniors reading this--after a certain age, people's reflexes slow down, their sight dims and their hearing dulls.  I have seen at least a few people during my travels (and, to be fair, here in New York) who probably shouldn't be driving any more.

Finally, as the Journal article mentions, alcohol and distracted driving also play roles.  They also are hazards for cyclists in other places, but if my own experience is any indication, there is more of both in Florida than in other places I've ridden.  To be fair, I think the police, at least in some areas of the state, are making more of an effort to crack down on drinking or texting while driving.  But even the most vigilant gendarmes can catch only a small number of offenders and, I believe, there isn't as much of a cultural taboo against drinking and driving in Daytona Beach as there is in, say, Park Slope or Back Bay.

Why Was He Targeted?

A 65-year-old immigrant is riding a bicycle in a lane through a gritty working-class neighborhood on the border between Queens and Brooklyn.  

He is pedaling home from his job as a dishwasher.

A group of ATVs and motorcycles approaches from behind.

The lead ATV strikes the cyclist.

The lead ATV flees the scene.

Four days later, the 65-year-old immigrant who was pedaling home from work is taken off life support.

"If they did it to my dad," lamented Angelica Xelo, "they're going to do it to someone else."

Little did she know that the assault--which  at least one news outlet called an "apparent collision"--was captured on about a dozen surveillance videos.  Or that some of them caught that same group of motorized thugs doing the same thing to another cyclist a few minutes later.  

That victim, whose name hasn't been released, wasn't seriously hurt.  But police believe that cyclist, like Eucario Xelo--a 65-year-old immigrant father and grandfather, was targeted.

I would like to know:  on what basis?  In Xelo's case, being an immigrant might be an obvious rationale.  But I have to wonder whether it's also a case of drivers using two tons of metal to express their resentment at people on two wheels "taking" "their" traffic lanes away from them, just as immigrants are "taking" "their" country.

Either way, I can't help but to think that ATV driver and that group feel emboldened by the current political situation.  How much difference is there, really, between white male entitlement and motor vehicle entitlement?

Either way, the result is the same:  a 65-year-old immigrant father and grandfather pedaling home from his job as a dishwasher in a restaurant ended up dead. 

 

That, in a neighborhood a little less than 10 kilometers from my apartment--and which I came to know well in my days of writing for a local newspaper.  

Perhaps that's the reason why, even though I never (to my knowledge, anyway) met Eucario Xelo, I feel as if I've lost someone I know.  Of course, it's much worse for Angelica:  She lost her father.  She is sad and angry: She has a right to both, and much more.

Her Last Ride

While riding here in New York City, I avoid curbside bicycle lanes.  I especially avoid them if they are alongside parks where motor vehicles aren't allowed. A terrible incident that occurred yesterday reminded me of why.

Madison Jane Lyden, 23 years old, was visiting from Australia.  She rode a rented bicycle in the lane on Central Park West just south of West 66th Street.  A livery cab pulled into it, in front of her.  She swerved to avoid it.  

A private sanitation truck rumbled up behind her.

Madison Jane Lyden isn't going home.  

When I lived in Manhattan, I cycled up Central Park West often.  That was in pre-bike lane days.  I always knew that the intersection with 66th Street was hazardous.  It's the where the southernmost traverse across Central Park enters regular New York City traffic.  Often, drivers are lulled after driving across that traverse, where they don't have to contend with the vagaries of Manhattan street traffic and are thus not ready for a change in traffic signals, pedestrians crossing--or cyclists.

Traffic is further congested when there is a performance at Lincoln Center, three blocks to the west, or in any of the other nearby performance and exhibition venues such as the West Side Y.

I am guessing that Ms. Lyden would not have been familiar with those traffic patterns.  Even if she were, I don't think she would have been prepared for a livery cab pulling into the bike lane--or for a private sanitation truck barreling behind her.

Let alone a garbage truck operated by an intoxicated driver.  

Madison Jane Lyden so enjoyed riding downtown that she decided to do some exploring.  She pedaled uptown.  It shouldn't have been her last ride.