Driving Drunk + Hitting Cyclist = 28 Days

Woman Sentenced to Jail for OWI After Hitting Teen on Bicycle

Although I wasn't happy to hear about another cyclist hit by a car, I was somewhat heartened, if only for a moment, when I read "Woman Sentenced".  Too often, motorists who hit and injure, or even kill, cyclists get off scot-free--or don't get much more than the proverbial "slap on the wrist."

Unfortunately, the latter was actually the case for the woman in the headline.  Yes, she is going to jail--for 28 days.  Now, if she had been like the driver who stayed at the scene after smacking into a 14-year-old Guatemalan boy in Brooklyn last month, I might have thought the sentence too harsh.  But there are other, shall we say, mitigating circumstances.

Those circumstances include the fact that she left the scene--and that she was intoxicated.  But, oh, no, this isn't an isolated incident in her resume:  This is her third drunk driving arrest.

Karen Nugent

Karen Nugent probably knew that she was facing serious time--say, five years, which is what the law allows for someone with her record in Michigan, where she smacked into that teenager.  So she pleaded guilty and got a deal:  The charges were reduced to a second-offense Operating While Intoxicated (OWI) and not stopping at the scene of an accident.  

I don't know whether I am more upset at Ms. Nugent--or the judge in Benzie County who made the deal with her.

Chasing Zero In The Emerald City

Nearly four years ago, Bill de Blasio began his first term as Mayor of New York City.  One of his first major acts was to implement Vision Zero, a project with the goal of eliminating traffic fatalities.  It began in Sweden two decades ago and, since then, most European nations, as well as Canada, Japan and other countries, have adopted it.  So have a number of US cites besides New York.

One such city is Seattle.  The stated goal of the Emerald City is zero fatalities by 2030.  Casualties have certainly decreased since its implementation, but questions remain as to how much this reduction has to do with the program itself or the demographics of the city.

by Gabriel Campanario, The Seattle Times

To its credit, Seattle has achieved decreases in traffic casualties, particularly among pedestrians and cyclists, even though it is the fastest-growing large city in the nation.  It has among the largest percentages of commuters who cycle or walk to work among large cities, though those percentages have remained unchanged since 2012 and had changed little for several years before it. It should be noted, however, that mass transit usage has increased at a faster pace than the population growth, in part because of changes to bus routes and new light-rail stations in key locations.

It's also interesting to compare Seattle's statistics with those of other comparably-sized cities.  In 2016, the number of police-reported traffic collisions increased to 11,603 from 10,930 in 2015.  That followed a decade of steady decreases in both the number of collisions (15,744 in 2005) and the collision rate per traffic volume (79.4 to 55.5 from 2005 to 2015).  The 2016 collisions resulted in more serious injuries than those in 2015, but in 20 fatalities, compared to 21 in 2015.  In all, five pedestrians and three cyclists were killed in 2016:  both numbers were down by one from the previous year.  

(It should also be noted that 23 percent of the 2015 fatalities occurred in just one crash on the Aurora Bridge.)

While one fatality is too many, I think it's fair to let Seattle take some pride in its numbers.  While it witnessed a total of eight fatalities among cyclists and pedestrians, in Nashville, with roughly the same number of people, 50 cyclists and pedestrians died in traffic crashes.  Meanwhile, Washington DC and Portland OR, with slightly fewer people than Seattle, had 26 and 13 such deaths, respectively.  And, in the same year, my hometown of New York, which has about twelve times the population, recorded 162 deaths (18 cyclists and 144 pedestrians).

Will any city or country ever reach "zero"?  If so, which will be first?  If not, which will come closest?

I Could Have Been...

It could have been me.

I could not get that phrase out of my mind as I rode to work this morning.

It could have been me.

Today dawned bright and clear for me, as it did for them--yesterday.  A beautiful mid-autumn day, sunny, a little chilly but not unpleasantly so, with strong breezes shaking leaves turned red and yellow from their branches and rippling reflections of the sky, glass, steel and concrete at the mouth of the Hudson.  

In other words, the sort of day people picture in their fantasies about bike-riding in New York.

It could have been me.

And so they went for a ride, for fun.  I was riding, too, in an entirely different part of town, from my job back to my apartment.   Though they weren't going to work, many others who followed their path, on bike or on foot, no doubt were.  I myself have ridden along that path, to work and for the same pleasures they were enjoying.

I could have been one of them.

Five came from Argentina--old friends celebrating the 30th anniversary of their graduation from their high school.  Another came from Belgium, with her mother and sister.  They survived because they weren't with her.

I could have been her.

So could any of the kids who were leaving Stuyvesant High School at that very moment.  No doubt some of them sauntered along, or pushed or shoved each other (as high school kids are wont to do) into or along the path.  They would hang out with other kids.  Or they would go to practices in sports they play, languages they are learning, plays in which they are performing or skills for tests they will take and essays they will write in the hopes of getting into the colleges they or their parents choose.  One assumes that one day, at least some of them will be part of some 30th anniversary celebration, wherever in the world they may be.



They could have been among them.

Still others walked dogs, pushed strollers and held hands as they strolled along the nearby piers.  Or they sluiced through crowds on skates and skateboards.  They were all mere blocks away from the 9/11 Memorial and even closer to--though, as fate would have it, a world apart from--the Argentinian and Belgian tourists on bicycles.

I could have been with them.

For a time in my life, I was riding daily along the stretch of the Manhattan Greenway known officially as the Hudson River Greenway-- or more commonly as the West Side Highway Bike Path-- along the stretch that separates Greenwich Village, SoHo and Tribeca from the river.  At that time, it was part of my route to work.  Before and since then, I have ridden there for pleasure--sometimes as part of a city jaunt, as the tourists did yesterday; other times en route to a ferry or bridge that would take me to another part of my ride.  More often than not, I rode alone, but sometimes I'd accompany whomever I happened to meet--along the way to my job or wherever else I happened to go.

They could have been with me.

Every time I pedaled along that path, I was home within a few hours.  Today I will be home about 40 minutes after I leave work and get on my bike.  They, I am sure, thought they were going home, too--today, tomorrow, next week or the week after.  

I could have gone with them.

But they are not going home.  They probably never even imagined that they wouldn't:  They could not have foreseen the way their rides, their vacations, their journeys, would end.

It could have ended that way--for me, for anybody.

The Argentinians, the Belgian, never suspected that under a clear autumn sky in New York, death would descend upon them.  They certainly never expected it to come in the form of a van jumping the barrier that kept all of the other West Street traffic away from them, or for said van to be driven by someone who knew nothing about them except that they were riding bicycles peacefully.  On their bikes, they never expected to meet the fate of the folks sipping drinks at Le Carillon or listening to music at the Bataclan.  Or the ones enjoying a fireworks display on Bastille Day or shopping in a Christmas marketplace.  Or simply out on a summer day.

No one expects it to end that way.

Of those five Argentinians and the Belgian who went for a bike ride--and two others who went for a walk--on the West Side Bike Path, all that remain are mangled bicycles and shards of clothing and other personal items.  They went for a stroll, they went for a ride, and each of them is gone, gone, gone.

It could have been me.


I can only be grateful that it wasn't.  My thoughts are with the victims.

Sad News About A Television Station Owner

He was cycling eastbound on Slaughter Beach Road in Milford, Delaware around 7:35 Thursday morning.

A Ford pickup truck was going the same way--and struck the cyclist.

The driver, Shawn E. Armstrong of nearby Lewes, stopped to help the cyclist.  But the cyclist, 76-year-old Thomas Draper of Milford, didn't survive the impact.  

He is well-known in his community--and throughout the Delmarva area--as the longtime owner of WBOC, one of the largest television stations in the area.  He also owned other television stations and media outlets in the area, as well as other parts of the United States.

Thomas Draper

At least Armstrong stopped when he realized he'd struck Draper.  That is, unfortunately, more than can be said for too many other drivers in similar situations. 

Another Kind Of Violence In Charlottesville

As if there hasn't been enough violence in Charlottesville (or the world) lately....

As if there hasn't been enough violence committed by motorists lately...

As if there hasn't been enough violence committed by motorists in Charlottesville lately, there's this:

Gail Esterman--my (or, if you like, Nick's) former neighbor in Park Slope, whom I re-encountered last year in Paris--responded to a Facebook post from her friend, Joy Pugh, about a cab driver who tried to assault a cyclist with his car, then with his fists.  Thankfully, he missed on both counts, but I'm sure the cyclist was shaken.  

Now, I've had a couple of similar incidents during my years of riding.  What makes Charlottesville cyclist's experience all the more galling, though, is that when Ms. Pugh called the taxi company--City Taxi--the number wasn't working and their website doesn't exist.  

Interestingly, according to Joy, there are negative online reviews regarding this cab service--about a driver (the same one?) and someone who answered the "company's" phone.

Mickey Johnson: Father, Friend And Pillar Of His Community

I know that, lately, I've portrayed Florida as a "killing field" for cyclist.  Such a reputation is not undeserved; after all, it has, by far, the highest per-capita cyclist mortality rate of any US state.

Also, I am angry about the way authorities in the Sunshine State handled the case of Alan Snel, the author of Bicycle Stories.  In brief, a driver who may or may not have been impaired by his medications drove straight into Alan's back and got off scot-free.

Well, today I want to point out something local police in at least one community are doing right--and praise the way the local media are portraying the cyclist.

As I have said in a  previous post, few non-cyclists will care about the often-cavalier treatment we get when we are victimized by errant, careless or impaired motorists as long as we are seen as abstractions or monsters--cyclists or cyclists!--and are instead recognized as siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, spouses, lovers or loved ones, friends, colleagues, co-workers and members of our communities, whatever those may be.

Thankfully, the Sarasota Herald-Tribune has portrayed Mickey Johnson in such a way--in a headline, no less:  "Victim in Bicycle Crash Was Family Man."  The article, written by Earle Kimel, mentioned Mr. Johnson's extended family and deep ties to his community, where he lived for nearly four decades, or half of his life.  He started two businesses, heading both of them until the day he died. He was also a member of Friends of the Legacy Trail, Volunteer of the Year with the Manasota Track Club and served on several boards of his church.  If all of that doesn't spell "pillar of the community," I don't know what does.  

Oh, and he was an Army veteran.  

Mickey Johnson

Now, of course, I didn't see the crash, but Kimel seems to have given a sober, unbiased account.  Although he doesn't directly place blame, he does show how driver Anthony Alexander and his passenger, Dillon Cooper, tried to impede the invstigation, which is being treated as a traffic homicide.  Both have been arrested and, so far, Alexander has been charged with driving with a suspended license and causing death. Both men have also been charged with perjury and obstructing a criminal investigation/giving false information to a police officer. (Cooper initially said he was the driver, which was contradicted by witness accounts.)  Further charges may be pending.

From what I've read, the only real fault I can find is the relatively low bond:  $3500 for Alexander and $2000 for Cooper.  Then again, I know nothing else about their circumstances, so those amounts may indeed be enough to deter the from taking flight.

Anyway, there is nothing that can, for his family and community, make up for Mickey Johnson's loss.  But, so far, the local authorities are doing a better job of investigating and prosecuting it than their counterparts in Florida have done in other recent cases of motorists running down cyclists.

Who And What We Need

When I was writing for a newspaper, a law enforcement official told me, off-record, that there are instances in which bodies are found but investigations aren't conducted. Or, said investigations are begun but lead nowhere quickly.   Then the bodies end up in a potter's field, donated for medical research, cremated--or simply, in the words of that official, "disappeared".  

The reason, he said, is the same as what probably caused those bodies to end up where they were found:   "Nobody knows them," he explained.  "And nobody will miss them."

I am thinking about that encounter, many years past, in light of writing about Alan Snel a few days ago.  Two months ago, as he was cycling down Old Dixie Highway in Florida when a motorist drove straight into his back.  Now he is moving back to Nevada, where he had lived and worked before arriving in the Sunshine State.   In his open letter to Governor Rick Scott, he wrote, "you and the political leaders just don't care enough to do anything to keep cyclists alive in your state."  

"Care" is, I now realize, the key word.  As articulate and energetic as Alan is, and as numerous as we (cyclists) may be, there is only so much we can accomplish if we don't have other people--whether or not they are cyclists--who care.  

My experiences as a transgender woman have taught me as much.  Lesbians, gay men, bisexuals, transgenders and others who don't fit into traditional notions about sexual and gender identity, by ourselves, are much more vulnerable to bigotry and violence when we are seen as the exceptions and the freaks--in other words, when other people cannot, or do not, see us as one of them.  And, people start to understand that we are as worthy of the same rights as they have when we are their sisters, brothers, parents, friends and colleagues.  

The same is true of cyclists, I believe.  Too often, we are seen as renegades or as members of some "over-privileged" group.  Or, people who don't ride think our lives are less valuable because we, for whatever reasons, aren't driving instead of pedaling.  On more than one occasion, I've heard people say, in essence, that the cyclist "had it coming" to him or her when he or she was struck or run down by a car or truck.

At such moments, we--cyclists--are an abstraction or bogeymen, and the word "cyclist" becomes an epithet.  That is because we are not seen as writers, teachers, engineers, carpenters or other professionals or tradespeople--or business people--who happen to ride bikes.  And we are also not thought of as someone's sibling or mother or father.

It's a lot easier to blame a victim you don't know anything about.  But when the person who's hit or run down is a loved one, finger-pointing and excuse-making just won't do.  Instead, you want answers.



Who?  How?  Why?  Those are the questions Jessica Martinez is asking, I imagine.  Police in San Antonio, Texas found her gravely injured father, Santiago Castillo, on the side of a street on the city's East Side.  Skid marks on the scene indicate that Castillo and his bicycle were dragged as much as 50 yards and a surveillance video from a nearby home show that two vehicles, including a dark SUV, struck him.

What makes this incident particularly egregious is that, according to the neighbor, one of the drivers stopped--to remove Castillo's bicycle from his car.  "So they had enough time to get [the bicycle] out of the bumper," said Linda Garcia, another relative of Castillo.  "But they didn't have enough time to wait there with him."  He lay on the street, at the intersection of Denver and Piedmont, until police arrived and he was rushed to the hospital.

Santiago Castillo, a 61-year-old father, died half an hour later.

I don't know whether Linda Garcia or Jessica Martinez ride, or have ever ridden, bicycles.  But someone they love has been killed by a hit-and-run driver.  He was a cyclist.  And they want answers.

Escape From The Sunshine State

People move from one state to another for all sorts of reasons.  Chief among them, I suppose, are jobs, family and schooling.  Then there are those who have a warrant out for them in the state they left (One of the great things about getting older is that the statute of limitations runs out!  You didn't hear that from me!) or are simply running away from any number of things.  I fit into that category when I left New Jersey:  Although my childhood wasn't Dickensian (It was more like Everybody Loves Raymond), a day came when I didn't want to be around my family or anybody or anything I knew.

Back then,  I said I'd "escaped" from New Jersey.  Other people, I'm sure, see their exits from one locale or another that way.  And that is how Alan Snel regards quitting Florida and going back to Nevada.

"Ghost Bike" dedicated to Johnny Jones in Jacksonville, Florida

As he reminds Governor Rick Scott in his open letter, posted on his blog Bicycle Stories, the Sunshine State leads the nation in cycling fatalities.  Given that it is the fourth most-populous state, it's not surprising that it also has the highest number of fatalities per million people.  What's most shocking, though is that no other state comes close, with almost twice as many deaths per million as second-place Louisiana and in absolute numbers, it edges out California, which has nearly double the population.

Two months ago, Alan Snel nearly became one of those statistics. He pointed that out in his letter to the Governor, in which he makes this judgment:  "You have showed no political leadership to try and reduce [the number of cycling fatalities] and you and the political leaders just don't care enough to do anything about keeping cyclists alive in your state."

Now I'll admit that my experiences of cycling in Florida are limited to a week or so I spend there every year.  And while there are great beaches and scenery, and it's nice to ride in shorts and T-shirts in December or January, I have even less of a sense that whoever makes decisions there knows or cares even less about cycling than in other places.  That is particularly troubling when you realize how many people ride.  

I always had the sense that, more than in anyplace else I've ridden, planners seem to think that throwing a bone to cyclists by painting a lane here or there is "policy".  And on Florida roads, you're more likely to encounter motorists driving way over the speed limit while under the influence of some substance or another--or are simply ignorant of, or hostile to, cyclists--than you are in, say, Portland--or even New York.

So...Although I usually enjoy the time I spend in Florida, I have no plans to move there.  And I understand why Alan Snel is moving out of it.

What Does It Take?

Not so long ago, I was actively writing another blog, Transwoman Times.  I have not given up on it, but I probably never will be as active on it as I once was--or as I am now on this blog.  

TT started off as a journal of the year leading up to my gender-reassignment surgery.  Then I wrote about, among other things, my life post-surgery.  But, as I had less and less to say about that, I found myself writing about any and all things related to gender identity and expression as well as sexual orientation.

That, I now realize, is one of the reasons I have not been writing on TT lately:  Too often, I found myself writing about people who were killed or suffered other forms of violence, not to mention discrimination and other kinds of bigotry, because of their actual or perceived gender identity or expression.  And, too often, I found myself recounting the indifference of law enforcement and other officials in the face of hate crimes--and of perpetrators who got off scot-free or slap-on-the-wrist punishments.

The latter is essentially what happened in the case of Alan Snel, the writer and cycling advocate who writes the Bicycle Stories blog.  The man who drove straight into his back didn't get so much as a ticket.  

Alan Snel in better times.

I guess the St. Lucie County authorities thought that because he was lying in a hospital bed, rather than six feet under, nothing serious had happened.  Now I'm starting to wonder whether the authorities in some places think that even turning cyclists into worm food isn't reason enough to bring charges against a motorist.

Back in June, I wrote about one of the more horrific instances of a motorist mowing down cyclists I've ever heard about.  Charles Pickett Jr. of Battle Creek, Michigan has been accused of plowing into a group of nine cyclists near Kalamazoo while intoxicated.  Of that group--who called themselves "The Chain Gang" and met for weekly rides--Debra Ann Bradley, Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Fred Anton ("Tony") Nelson, Lorenz John ("Larry:) Paulik and Suzanne Joan Sippel died.  

l to r:  Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Suzanne Sippel, Debra Bradley, "Tony" Nelson and "Larry " Paulik

Pickett was scheduled to go on trial later this month, with jury selection planned for the 24th and opening statements the following day.  Last month, however, his lawyer filed a notice to use the insanity defense.  That means Pickett has to undergo psychiatric evaluation for criminal responsibility, which means the trial had to be rescheduled.  Now jury selection is scheduled for the 18th of September and opening statements for the next day.  

That, after Pickett had been found competent to stand trial last August and ordered to stand trial in November.  Oh, and he has a previous DUI arrest--in 2011 in Tennessee--but the charges were dropped.

While I am all for due process, I still have to wonder what it takes for motorists who--whether through intoxication, carelessness or "road rage"--kill cyclists to be held accountable.

A Story I Didn't Want To Repeat

One of the things my students learn--if they don't already know it--is that the same stories repeat themselves, whether in literature, the other arts, journalism or "real life".

As for the latter:  Yes, another story repeated itself in life.  In fact, it's one I wrote about just yesterday in this blog.  Unfortunately, it's not the sort of account I, or anyone else, enjoys repeating.  But here goes:

Another motorist drove into the back of another cyclist in Florida--in more or less the same part of the Sunshine State, no less.  

Frank Atkisson in the Florida State Legislature, 2003

Yesterday, I told you about Alan Snel.  He survived the ordeal, although he still has a lot of recovery ahead of him.  Frank Atkisson, on the other hand was not as fortunate:  The force of 26-year-old Kristie Jean Knoebel's car ended his life shortly after he was struck while riding at around 7pm the other day.

Although Snel's experience garnered a lot of attention among cycling advocates and journalists--Alan is both--it didn't reverberate through the general population the way Atkisson's unfortunate encounter has.  At least, his tragedy has caused the general public--in Florida, anyway, to take notice.

You might say that it's because Atkisson, unfortunately, died.  But another reason is that he served in the Florida House of Representatives for eight years, and was also a city council member and the mayor of Kissimmee as well as a Commissioner in Osceola County.

I don't want to trivialize his death, or even to seem overly cynical, when I say that his visibility to the people of Florida--especially to his fellow politicians--might be the impetus to make conditions safer in what is the deadliest state for cyclists.

Maybe, just maybe. We can always hope.  But for now, we can only mourn him--and be thankful that Alan Snel is still with us.

What's A Cyclist Worth? In Florida, Not Even A Fine

I don't think of myself as a vengeful person.  At the same time, there are people I want to see punished, or at least castigated, for their misdeeds.

Moreover, I have come to realize that you can tell what a person's status is, or was, in his or her community or society by the sort of penalty meted out to someone who commits a crime against, or otherwise causes harm to, that person.

Now, I'm not going to say "Don't get me started about drivers who get off scot-free when they run down cyclists!" because, well, I am going to rant about that, whether or not anybody gets me started.

Specifically, I am going to rant and rave about one particular cyclist who was so victimized.  He has survived the ordeal, albeit with a fractured spine and deep bruises.  He hopes to get back on his bike sooner rather than later, but he still faces a long recovery from the injuries he incurred a month ago today.

A 65-year-old motorist named Dennis Brophy, of Fort Pierce, Florida, was in the process of inhaling a "breathing treatment" when he drove his 2016 Chevy Cruze straight into the back of a cyclist who, like him, was traveling south on Old Dixie Highway.  Brophy admitted he suffers from sleep apnea and said, according to the incident report, that he was "blinded by the light" and "never saw" the cyclist he struck.

That was at 8:03 am.   The cyclist would spend the next two days in the Lawnwood Medical Center's ICU.  Meantime, Brophy went home without even a citation for plowing into the cyclist, whom he could have just as easily killed.

Alan Snel, after a motorist struck him from behind

That cyclist is Alan Snel.  Perhaps you know him from reading his "Bicycle Stories" blog.  You may also know, or know of, him from his extensive cycling advocacy, or from his work as a journalist in Nevada and Florida.  It seems, though, that to Florida law enforcement officials, he was--as he says--"collateral damage", or simply someone who got in the way of a motorist who couldn't be bothered to swerve a couple of feet out of his way.

Alan's bicycle

Although I have had some very pleasant experiences of cycling in Florida, I also realized that it is a very auto-centric place.  From what I have seen, I would guess that the vast majority of cyclists are adults, many of--as we say--"a certain age".  Yet, too often, people entrusted to uphold the law and support public safety seem to see cyclists as people who won't grow up and drive and who therefore "bring it on themselves" when they are endangered or, worse, injured or killed by motorists.

Alan's helmet

I was not surprised to learn that more cyclists are killed by motorists, in proportion to the population, in Florida than in any other state.  Furthermore, in every year since 2010, Florida's rate has been around 50 percent higher than the second-deadliest state in each of those years: Louisiana.  And in most of those cases, like Snel's, the driver faced minor or no charges.

Alan, in better times

As Snel recovers, he still needs money to cover living and other expenses.  So, friends and other supporters have started a YouCaring fundraiser for him.

What's Worse Than A Bad Bike Lane? Bad Bike Lane Regulation!

One of the reasons why I don't like to use bike lanes, at least here in New York, is that motorized vehicles frequently pull in and out, and sometimes park in them.  I've even seen drivers use bike lanes for passing.

The problem is that if a car pulls in, or parks, in the lane, there is no room for you to get around it, especially if the lane is "protected", i.e., has a barrier between it and the street.  At least, if only a painted line separates you from the street, you can veer into the traffic lane.  

Another problem is that drivers often pull into the lane without warning--and, it seems, without looking to see whether cyclists are in the lane. If you are riding in the street and someone makes a sudden turn, you most likely can move over or shift into another lane.  You don't have that option in a bike lane--again, especially a "protected" one. 

I did not notice such problems when I recently rode bike lanes in Paris and Montreal:  Drivers in those cities seem more cognizant that bike lanes are for, well, bikes.  That, or the regulations that prohibit motor vehicles are more strictly enforced.  

On the other hand, it seems that cyclists in other American cities have experiences with bike lanes similar to the ones I and other cyclists have in New York.  Bob Collins, a blogger and news editor for Minnesota Public Radio, offers this:  "The biggest problem with bike lanes in the Twin Cities isn't cyclists; it's people who insist on parking their cars in them."

That statement is particularly notable because during the past few years, Minneapolis has stolen some of Portland's, as well as San Francisco's and New York's, thunder as a "bike friendly" city.  In 2015, Minneapolis was the only US municipality in Copenhagenize Design Company's index of the world's 20 most bike-friendly cities.  Montreal was the only other North American city on the list.

(Copenhagenize's previous indexes were published in 2011 and 2013.  I am guessing they will publish another this year, though I have seen no indication of that on their site.)

Anyway, Mr. Collins shows us that there is no end to the ignorance or hostility of lawmakers when it comes to cycling.  Some want, or claim to want, to make things safer for us.  Others simply don't want to upset drivers, who make up a much larger constituency than cyclists, or see us as renegades, scofflaws or worse.

I don't know which, if either, of those categories includes Minnesota State Representative Duane Quam.  Instead of working on regulations to keep motorists from driving or parking in bike lanes--or, for that matter, from texting or talking on cell phones while driving--he has the brilliant idea of limiting access to bike lanes and deterring young people from cycling.  

At least, that seems to be the intent of the bill he's filed with the State Legislature.  Among other things, it would require anyone who wants to use the bike lanes to take a safety course, register his or her bike and pay an annual $5 fee.

But the most absurd part of that bill stipulates that anyone who rides in a bike lane has to be at least 15 years old.  "It's not clear where people under 15--kids going to school comes to mind--are supposed to ride their bikes," Collins wryly notes.  He also notes another onerous aspect of the bill:  that it applies only to areas with "structures devoted to business, industry or dwelling houses situated at intervals of less than 100 feet for a distance of a quarter mile or more.  

In other words, as Collins astutely observes, it is aimed at Minneapolis and St. Paul.  Representative Byron comes from Byron, a town of 5063 residents--and no bike lanes.

What Is A Cyclist's Life Worth? $700 (CDN)? Six Months' Probation?

Yesterday, there appeared in The Globe And Mail an excellent editorial by Toronto-based writer Naomi Buck.  She started with what sounded (to most of her neighbors to the south, anyway) like good news:  a woman who drove a van that struck a pedestrian who was standing on a Toronto sidewalk was convicted of "careless driving".  For that, she got a fine of $1000 and six months' probation.

Had the driver done such a thing here in the States, it's unlikely that she would have been burdened with such a hefty fine or lengthy sentence.  To her credit, she took it upon herself to appear in court:  something that, under Ontario law, is not required of someone so charged.  In most such cases, according to Ms. Buck, the defendant chooses not to appear, leaving the victims' loved ones to read their heartbreaking words to a legal agent rather than the one who took their friend's, sibling's, spouse's, parent's or child's life.   

Had the driver--one Elizabeth Taylor--had her charge upgraded to "dangerous driving", she could have received a ten-year prison sentence if the incident causes bodily harm, and 14 years if it results in death.  However, Patrick Brown, a lawyer who has handled hundreds of cases in which pedestrians or cyclists were killed or critically injured, it's very difficult, at least in an Ontario court, to make a case for "dangerous" driving unless it was a hit-and-run incident or alcohol was involved.

From the San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency archives.

Still, Ms. Taylor incurred more severe penalties than most drivers who run down cyclists or pedestrians, according to Mr. Brown.  "I actually think most pedestrian cases get dropped entirely," he said.  Three recent cases he litigated involving cyclist fatalities resulted in the drivers being charged with "careless driving" or lesser offenses, and in being fined $700, $600 and $85(!) respectively.

Even those penalties, however, are more than most drivers in the US can expect if they run down cyclists or pedestrians.  Still, the families and friends of cyclists and pedestrians killed by motorists in Toronto have to bear the same burdens as their peers in Montreal, Vancouver, Boston, New York, San Francisco, London, Paris and any number of other cities in this world one can name. 

Their feelings were aptly expressed by the 8-year-old son of Erica Stark, the pedestrian killed by the van Elizabeth Taylor drove.  "I'm mad at the driver," he wrote in a victim impact statement, which his father read in court.

"In a few years, he'll probably be mad at the justice system," Naomi Buck speculates.  "Who could blame him?"

Saul Lopez Probably Never Saw It Coming

When a cyclist ends up under a motor vehicle, do you assume--if only for a moment--that it was some careless driver who was texting, drunk or simply not paying attention?

I admit: I do.  Perhaps it's because I've heard and  read too many of those stories.  

Do you also assume that a single motor vehicle, and driver, was involved?  Again, I admit that I do.  Reason:  See above.

Now, when you hear that two motor vehicles collide, do you picture both of them stopped as a result of the impact?  If you answered "yes", welcome to a club that includes me.  

Also, if you are like me, you probably don't expect a cyclist to be run down by one of those two vehicles that collided. In fact, I'd never heard of such a case--until today.

The crash site in Pacoima.

The other day, in the Pacoima neighborhood of Los Angeles' San Fernando Valley, a 2016 Dodge Ram pickup truck was headed south on Glenoaks Boulevard.  It collided with a 2006 Chevrolet pickup truck running eastward on Vaughn Street. 

The impact sent both trucks careening southward to an intersection where the Dodge struck a 15-year-old boy who was riding his bike westbound, to school, in the south crosswalk at around 7 am.  He was pinned under the truck and after police arrived, Saul Lopez was declared dead at the scene.

Saul Lopez, from the GoFundMe page for his funeral costs.

The good news--if there could be said to be any--is that both drivers stopped at the scene and cooperated with police.  Neither was arrested.  It's not clear which of them had the right of way.

A GoFundMe page created to cover the costs of his funeral has already raised nearly $28,000: about $13,000 more than the goal.  If only it weren't necessary!

A Moment Of Tragedy: Cyclists Run Down In Brooklyn And Indiana

One of my favorite films is Night On Earth.  I won't argue that it's a great film or that Jim Jarmusch is America's answer to Fellini or Truffaut.  It's not the sort of film that will teach you any great lessons or makes any grand artistic statements.  Rather, it reveals people without judging them, which is--to me--one of the best things an artist can do. 

What all of the characters share is the kinship of the night and the confines of taxicabs.  The film shows us what happens inside cabs on a particular night in five different cities:  Los Angeles, New York, Paris, Rome and Helsinki.  Some of the actions and interactions are very, very funny--especially in the New York sequence.  But all of them reveal hopes, vulnerabilities, resentments and so much more.

I've often thought that if I were a filmmaker, I'd want to do something similar with cyclists.  Perhaps I could show a messenger in New York or London or San Francisco, for example, and, say, someone riding to or from work (or to shop) in Paris or Amsterdam and other kinds of cyclists in other places.  Of course, the point of such a film--if indeed there was one--would be to show what it means to be a member of the family of two wheels, if you will.

But there would be a terrible flip-side to such a narrative:  Cyclists who are on the losing end of encounters with motorists, or who are involved in some other kind of mishap.  I was reminded of this when I learned of two tragedies that occurred at around the same time, in two different parts of the United States.

One unfolded in my own backyard, more or less.  Thomas Groarke--suspected of driving drunk--ran down 17-year-old cyclist Sean Ryan near Marine Park, at the far southern end of Brooklyn.  Ryan was pedaling along Gerritsen Avenue, where I have ridden many times.  As the street is long and flat, and the streets that feed into it see little traffic--and even less from people who don't live in the neighborhood--some drivers seem to see it as a local version of the Daytona Speedway.  And, because the area is relatively remote, on the edge of Jamaica Bay, it is not as well-patrolled as some more central areas of Brooklyn.

The impact of the crash severed the bicycle in half.  I shudder to think of what it did to Sean Ryan's body!

Police investigate the scene where Sean Ryan was run  down.

A few hours after that tragedy unfolded on the East Coast, in the middle of Indiana, 36-year-old Theresa Corey Burris was riding to work, on US 40, just east of Hancock County Road 250W.  An 18-wheeler driven carrying an oversize load--a huge concrete slab that protruded onto the shoulder of the road--struck her.  Its driver, 55-year-old Reed Thompson, apparently was unaware he'd run her over until police stopped him half a mile from the scene.  

At the scene where Theresa Corey Burris was run down

Sean Ryan and Theresa Corey Burris were both riding at around the same time.  That unites them; so, unfortunately, is the way they met their endings.  I would prefer that we, as cyclists, share different bonds and that our fates are not similarly bound in a tragic moment.

Murder Charges Against Driver Who Ran Down Cyclists Near Kalamazoo

Five counts of second-degree felony murder have been authorized against 50-year-old Charles E. Pickett of Battle Creek, Michigan.

He's the driver of the blue Chevrolet pickup truck that plowed into a group of cyclists near Kalamazoo.  Debra Ann Bradley, Melissa Ann Fevig-Hughes, Fred Anton (Tony) Nelson, Lorenz John (Larry) Paulik and Suzanne Joan Sippel died in the carnage.  Jennifer Lynn Johnson, Paul Douglas Gobble, Sheila Diane Jeske and Paul Lewis Runnels are still hospitalized.

Authorities aren't yet saying what might've caused Pickett to drive into the group of cyclists, who had been riding together every Tuesday night for more than a decade. 


According to eyewitness testimony and other reports, the truck had been moving erratically half an hour before the tragedy.  That, and other factors, have caused speculation that Pickett might have been intoxicated.  He has no history of traffic violations, or any criminal history, in the state of Michigan.  However, a Facebook page for "Charles E. Pickett" shows a number of sexually provocative messages as well as a profile picture with a skull and revolvers that reads, "Never water yourself down just because someone can't handle you at 100 proof."


When a news crew from a local television station went to his home, a family member threatened to chase them with a front-end loader and followed them in a car before a brief verbal exchange ensued.

Whatever might have caused Pickett to run down the cyclists, I am gratified that the authorities are taking the case seriously.   The victims were parents, grandparents, siblings, friends and beloved members of their communities, not just "cyclists".  There seems to be a real attempt to achieve justice.  However, justice is all that can be achieved. It is not a substitute for a life--or, more specifically, the lives of parents, grandparents, siblings, friends and beloved members of their communities who were out for a ride when, to paraphrase Albert Camus in The Plague, death descended upon them from the clear blue sky.