The Firefighters Got It Right, But The Reporter Didn't

Bike mishaps leave their riders in all sorts of predicaments.  Some, unfortunately, are tragic:  I have recounted a few on this blog. Others leave their riders in various states of incapacitation for varying periods of time.  The crash and "dooring" incident I suffered two years ago, within four months of each other, fall into that category:  Injuries and shock kept me off my bikes for a while.

Some predicaments are less dire--at least, if there is timely intervention.  So it was for a four-year-old boy in Madison, Wisconsin.  Firefighters found him with his foot entangled in spokes, which they cut.  The boy is fine but, of course, the bike wasn't rideable.  Kudos to the firefighters bought the necessary parts and fixed the kid's machine.

Now, you might have noticed something about the way I worded this post.  It has to do with the news account, which was obviously written by someone who isn't a cyclist.  The boy's foot was "caught in the spokes of one of his bicycle tires," according to the report.  After freeing the boy, the firefighters bought him " a new rim" and installed it.

I don't mean to nit-pick, but there is no such thing as the spokes of a bicycle tire.  The tire, usually made of some rubber compound, is the shoe, if you will, to the foot of a rim:  the round metal (or carbon fiber) part of a wheel that is attached to the hub (at the center of a wheel) by spokes.  The article got that right:  the spokes on that bike were, as they are on most bikes, wires.

The article noted, however, that the firefighters "bought a new rim" and "installed it for him."  Now, unless one of those firefighters is a wheelbuilder, he or she wouldn't have installed a rim:  It would have to be laced to the hub with spokes.  My guess is that the firefighters--bless their hearts--bought a whole wheel, with or without a tire, and installed it for him.  Most people, whatever their level of bike mechanic skills, can do that.

Anyway, I congratulate and thank the firefighters of Engine Company Number 10 in Madison, Wisconsin for what they did for that boy--whether or not a reporter got it right. 

Terror On Two Wheels

 Whitney Gregory turned her son into a menace to society.

No, she didn't teach 12-year-old Jeffrey how to vandalize, steal, assault people or torture puppies and kittens.  She told him to do something done by nearly all boys his age in his milieu--in a different place from where he'd been doing it before.

Susan Garcia felt so threatened by it.  The Homeowners Association member in Santa Ana, California--no doubt motivated by the possible threat to her property value as well as her corporeal security--yelled at the boy and pushed him.

His mother probably taught him not to respond violently.  If that was enough to get Martin Luther King Jr. arrested more times than he could count, it was more than sufficient to escalate Ms. Garcia's ire.

"Please don't touch me," he pleads with her.

She smacked him. "Why did you just hit me?" he asks.

Being a master of the Socratic and Talmudic methods of inquiry, she responded with a question,  "Want me to hit you again?"

Jeffrey's parents came out of their house at that point.  Not surprisingly, given the lessons they taught their boy, they de-escalated the situation and sent Jeffrey into their house.  

So what did his mother tell him to do that so threatened Ms. Garcia?

She told him to ride his bicycle on the sidewalk.

Now, to you, dear reader, and to me, that may seem misguided.  But Ms. Gregory, being the concerned mother she is, told Jeffrey to ride on the sidewalk because when he rode on the street, he almost was hit by a car.  Were I not a cyclist myself, I might do the same for my kid.

I have to wonder, though, about what lessons Jeffrey Gregory has learned from the incident.  Actually, I don't.  You see, even though I have always had an independent spirit (for which I've been praised and scolded), as a kid--even at his age--I obeyed my parents, and most authority figures, to the degree that I could.  And that is why, by that time in my life, I'd learned that at some point, doing what my parents, or some other adult, told me to do could get me into trouble with some other adult.  And, of course, as an adult, you can obey the law and still get arrested or do whatever is expected of you and get into some kind of trouble.

All I can hope is that Jeffrey doesn't give up bicycle riding--and that he's not too emotionally scarred--as a result of an encounter with a woman who saw him as a menace--for riding his bicycle on the sidewalk.

Whatever Is In The Water, She Knows More Biking Leads To Healthier Bodies

Flint, Michigan has become synonymous with its water crisis.  It's emblematic of all sorts of racial and economic divides--as well as governmental corruption--in the United States.  The city, once a kind of "mini Detroit," experienced the de-industrialisation--and resulting-- and resulting economic decline-- of the "Motor City" some 110 kilometers (68 miles) to its southeast. 

So, like many other "Rust Belt" cities large and small, its children and young adults have suffered the same kinds of inequities and truncated possiblities experienced by their peers in cities like Camden, New Jersey as well as neighborhoods like Mott Haven in the Bronx and Brownsville in Brooklyn.  One result is poor health outcomes:  Children in those places suffer from all sorts of diseases, including asthma, obesity and diabetes, that were once provinces of their parents and grandparents.  One reason for that is the lack of exercise:  Their parents or caretakers fear, often with justification, letting them stray much beyond their abodes.  Or, the kids may not have access to spaces or even the most rudimentary equipment that would allow them to not only burn off their often-poor diets, but also some of the stress and trauma of growing up in such places.

Also, in such places, young people grow up with little more than a comic-book knowledge of their cultural history. (Disclosure:  Almost all of my knowlege of the histories and cultures of non-white people has been gained through reading, experience and self-study.)  Knowing who one is, and from whom, what and where one came, is the only way to become a subject and not an object--which is to say a decider and not a victim--in one's own, and in the arc of, history. Which is also to say, the only way to claim and reclaim one's identities.  Trust me, I know a thing or two about that!

So does Angela Stamps.  That is why she founded the Kentakee Athletic & Social Clubs while she lived in Los Angeles.  She chose the name, she said, because she wanted to serve the African American community--
"specifically adolecents," she says--"and to teach them about our history prior to the slave trade." During that time, she also became a bike commuter.

Angela Stamps. Photo by Tom Travis, from the East Village Magazine

She returned to Flint, where she was raised, in 2010 to start educational and athletic programs for underserved youth.  Two years later, that purpose led her to start bicycle programs, including the Berston Bicycle Club.  It's so named because participants, aged 10 to 18, meet in the city's Berston Field House, where they discuss everything from bicycle safety to the best foods to eat while riding.  

The club also offers a bicycle and helmet loaner for participants who don't who don't have them.  Berston also has a nine-week program (the next session starts on the 12th), which includes bike safety and maintenance sessions as well as daily bike trips in all directions on the compass.  Participants aim for a goal of 270 miles (about 420 kilometers) and, upon completing the program, get a new bike, helmet and extras.

And, Ms. Stamps hopes, "healthier bodies."  That is not a minor goal in a place like Flint.

For Her Brother

What motivates people to do charitable work?

My guess is that one common (if not the most common) impetus is the memory of a loved one, whether a blood relative, friend or anyone else who matters to the person doing the work.

Such is the case for Kay and Craig Collier.  For the past 27 years, the Brownwood, Texas residents have been collecting bicycles and distributing them for Good Samaritan Ministries and other non-profit charities.  The need is great in their area which, in spite (or some would say because of) Camp Bowie, has lower income and higher poverty rates than average for Texas or the United States.

Kay Collier (left) with Marie Smith of Good Samaritan Ministries (Photo by Derrick Stuckly)

One of the needy could have been Kay's brother, had he not become her brother.  Her parents adopted Sidney Collier Hanks through Catholic Charities when he was six years old.  For his first Christmas with his new family, Kay's mother asked Sidney what he wanted from Santa.  "He said it didn't matter, he never gets what he wants, but he really would like to have bike," Kay recalls.  

He soon came to be known "Sid on the Bike" in the community.  "He wore out a bike, and sometimes my mom would have to get him two a year," she remembers.  He rode "everywhere," she says, continuing even after getting his driver's license at age 18.

So far, that sounds like a typical story.  That is, until you consider a handicap Sid had to overcome:  one leg was 12 inches shorter than the other.  At the time he was adopted, he was living in a group home where the foster mother made booties but not shoes.  "My mother found someone to get him shoes made that were built up and very heavy."  Still, Kay says, "he rode that bike anyway."

Phlebitis developed in Sid's shorter leg.  Finally, he needed hip surgery because the shorter leg was causing so much stretch to the normal one.  He was on the verge of being relegated to a wheelchair when he passed away, at age 28.

At that time, Kay, now a receptionist for Good Samaritan Ministries, and Craig were expecting their first daughter, whom they named Sidney.  She is now 27 years old:  the same age as the couple's bicycle charity.

Pedal Power Loses Its Fleet

 Whatever you believe, or don't believe in, you probably agree that it's not OK to take other people's stuff without their permission.

Taking someone's bike is, therefore, a pretty low deed, as its owner almost always loves and/or depends on it.  For some, it might be the difference between having a relatively healthy childhood and becoming another statistic.

Susan Tuck and Mark Trumper understood as much.  That is what led them to start Pedal Power eight years ago in Minneapolis. Part of the mission in starting Pedal Power, according to Trumper, is to "bring the outdoors to children of color." As the organization's "About" page tells us, Tuck and Trumper were motivated by the "abrupt realization that a whole lotta kids never learn to ride a bike." I agree with their assessment:  "that's a problem--one that's worth tackling." 

As teachers, their motto could hardly be more fitting:  "Learn to bike.  Bike to learn." The thing is, to do either, you need a bike--and to know how to ride it.  So, with the help of small grants and donations, they assembled a fleet for the kids at Pillsbury Elementary School, where Trumper and Tuck teach-- and half of the kids are African-American and more than a quarter are Hispanic and 84 percent receive free or discounted lunches.  And realizing that some of them had never been on a bike, they taught kids how to ride.

Knowing what Trumper's and Tuck's efforts, and the bikes themselves, mean to the kids, it's was especially galling to lose, not just one bike, but all 30 in the fleet, along with pumps, reflective vests and cable locks.  

They were stored in an unmarked trailer on school grounds. Late last Thursday night, someone called the police to report someone trying to break in.  When Trumper drove by the following morning, the trailer and its contents were gone.  

Trumper summed up his, Tuck's and the kids' mood: "We're devastated."  They do, however, hope to ride again. To that end, Pedal Power is accepting donations.