Coloring

 Sometimes bicycle safety really is a matter of covering your rear end.

Instagram post by Manish Kamdar

 

Don't Look Now!

I took an Art History course that  included a final exam with this essay question: "Explain the Mona Lisa smile."

I don't remember what I wrote. I am sure, however, that it wasn't profound, brilliant or original in spite of my belief that it, like everything I wrote in those days, embodied all of those qualities.  So it wouldn't surprise you to know that the grade I got--a B, if I remember correctly-- aroused my indignation. (It didn't take much, did it?)

So, being older and wiser, I won't venture an opinion about why the young woman has her hands over her eyes:

I simply thought the image is light and funny--just right for a Sunday morning.

A Ride I Never Did

 I spent a year as a bike messenger in New York City.  During that time, I did all of the stupid and crazy things bike messengers of that time (ca. 1983) did--one of which, ahem, is now legal.

(One of the great things about getting older is that the statute of limitations runs out--for most offenses, anyway!)

In the "crazy" category is holding my handlebar with one hand, and the rear of a delivery truck or New York City bus with the other.  I did that, oh, maybe a handful (pun intended) of times, and only when I was trying to make an extra-fast delivery--and was, oh, partaking of that which is now legal.  

Still, as young and stupid (and angry) as I was, I was never part of anything like this--either as pedaler or passenger!:

No Dry Rides

 Ya gotta hydrate, doncha no?

Only He Could Catch Me

In earlier posts, I mentioned that a long, long time ago (apologies to Don McLean) I raced.

Few people saw my meteoric rise because...well, because I was meteoric.  I rode so fast that nobody could catch a glimpse of, let alone catch, me.

Except for sculptor David Gerstein.  How he managed to capture me in my moment of glory, I don't know. 

Out Of The Habit?

Many, many years ago, I went to Catholic school.

How many years ago?, you ask.  Well, the nuns who taught us were covered from head to toe, except for their faces, in black.  I remembered them when, years later, I learned about the severe sartorial codes conservative Islamic states impose on women.

Needless to say, women who live under such restrictions don't do much cycling. To be fair, that also has to do with other restrictions--arguably, the most extreme have been imposed by the Taliban in Afghanistan--on where, when and with whom women can work, travel or simply be in a public space.

To my knowledge, even the most conservative orders of nuns aren't so constrained in their day-to-day movements. Still, I have a hard time imagining a woman riding a bicycle in one of those long habits.  Unless...

Happy New Year!

 Happy New Year!

You've probably heard the expression, "May you live in interesting times."  Although often uttered as a benediction, it's said to be a translation of a curse:  "interesting" is, according to this story, is a euphemism for "difficult."  Others have claimed that it was always meant to be said ironically:  The wisher wants the recipient to live in peaceful, i.e., boring, times.

Perhaps more important whether than wanting someone else, or one's self, to live in interesting, boring, peaceful, tumultuous, or whatever kind, of times is how different you want 2023 to be from 2022.

Image by Peachaya Tanomsup

Ride My...

I've got a bike, you can ride it if you like...

Ride my see-saw...

So what would you get if you combined Syd Barrett's and John Lodge's  "invitations?" 

 

How Do The "Helpers" Get To Their Jobs?

The first time a curious toddler wonders why four people in red suits and white beards are on the same block, the parent (or whatever adult is accompanying the kid) might explain it this way:  "They're Santa's helpers."

Now, when Santa is shown on his sled towed by eight reindeer, we never see the "helpers."  Even though I stopped believing in Santa Claus, probably, the day I saw four (one of whom was Black) on the same block of 18th Avenue in Brooklyn, I still wonder how those "helpers" get around.

The Authority Of This Blog

 We've all heard the expression, "Don't believe everything you read."

Well, you can ignore it when you read this blog.  Really, you can believe everything you read here.  Here's why:

He Gave Us A Great Ride

 Charles M. Schulz, who created one of the world’s best-loved comic strips—Peanuts —would have been 100 years old yesterday.

What would Thanksgiving, Christmas and other holidays have been like without the animated cartoons that featured Charlie Brown, Linus, Peppermint Patty and all those other characters who were like kids we knew—or ourselves as kids—only more so.

Oh, and Schulz gave us one of my first heroes.

He’s still one of my heroes!

Sticking Its Neck Out

 Go to any bike parking facility.  Among the many bikes chained and locked to the bars and post, there's always one that stands out.

Back In The Day, We...

 I admit that I've made, oh, a joke or two about Millenials and avocado toast. 

Now that I've confessed as much, I'll say that I actually respect what folks like me in, ahem, midlife call "the younger generation."  They think differently because they know they need to, and I think they'll be fine as long as we don't cook the planet.

That said, I must also say that whenever I see them while I'm riding, there's a good chance they're looking at an iPhone, Android, Garmin or some other electronic device clipped to their handlebars.  I wonder if they can imagine riding without those gizmos.

I mean, how is she going to find her way to Starbucks?

Back in the day, we...

Paper, Plastic, Glass, Aluminum--And Pedals

When I first became a dedicated cyclist, as a teenager in the mid-1970s, we were still seen as latter-day hippies:  Whether we rode to work or school, for fitness, to race or tour, or just because, we tended to be more environmentally-conscious than other people.  In fact, the environment was the very reason some people rode. It was, and is, one of my reasons.

The funny thing is that, nearly half a century later, cycling is still associated, correctly, with environmental consciousness.  These days, though, those associations have more overtly political overtones:  If you pedal, drive a hybrid or electric vehicle, look for ethically-sourced products and recycle, even when it isn't mandated, that makes you a"lib" and an enemy to the MAGA crowd.

There is, I must say, at least some truth to the stereotype.  We live up to it every day:

 

A Different Origin Story?

As a transgender woman, I often ask, "What if?"

What if I had been assigned, at birth, the gender and name under which I live?

What kind of cyclist might I have been?

Would I ever need to look back?

Once You Get There, You Need To Get Around

Recently, NASA announced its intention to send humans to the moon for the first time in half a century.

I hope that the astronauts will have everything they need:

 

From Pinterest

After all, once they get there, they'll need to get around.  And, from what I understand, transportation options are limited on, let alone under, the lunar surface.

A Concrete Example

During the many years I've cycled and worked in bike shops, I've seen plenty of "innovations" that made me wonder, "Why?"

Sometimes, of course, the answer is, "because we can!"  I'm sure would've been the answer from the creators of a concrete bicycle.  

Yes, you read that right:  a bicycle made from the same stuff that lines sidewalks and encases the enemies of organized crime bosses tossed into bodies of water.

Of course, there is no earthly reason for such a bike:  It's too heavy and inefficient to move faster than a crawl.  That's probably a good thing because the bike is too brittle to survive much more of a shock than a crack in one of the sidewalks that could have been made from its material.

At least they gave me a good subject for my weekly "Sunday funnies" series.

Our Bikes, Our Selves?

Do bicycles reflect their riders?

Or do cyclists  mirror their machines? 

When A Cow Crosses Your Path...

During my rides, all sorts of animals have crossed my path.  Depending on the creature's size, tempérament, the width of the road and how many animals are crossing, I stop or ride around them.  

Among those creatures have been cattle.  I must admit, I have never dealt with them as resourcefully as this cyclist:

 

You Never Forget

Once you learn, you never forget how to ride a bike.

Is the same true for running a country?

Some would argue that no one ever learns how to do it in the first place--or that by the time you've learned how to do it, it's too late.

I'll stick to bike riding, thank you!