Retail Therapy

In the days after 11 September 2001, the US stock market incurred some of its biggest losses up to that point in its history.  Other markets around the world took similar "hits"; some feared that a recession that had begun earlier in the year would turn into a depression.

While there would be further losses, and the economy would show other signs of weakness, by end of 2001, the markets and other sectors of the economy had regained most of their losses.  And, even though tourism (particularly the airlines) experienced a major slump, the economy as a whole didn't fare as badly as some expected.  This, according to economists, was due at least in part to consumer spending.

In other words, people (at least those who could afford to do so) used "retail therapy" to deal with the stress and anxiety caused by events of that time.  They were encouraged by the President himself and enabled by low interest rates on loans and credit cards.

Now, I don't mean to equate the death of my mother with the shock of 9/11, though it's the saddest event of my life.  But I suppose that buying something you like can ease, if momentarily, some emotional pain.  And, aside from what it does to one's budget, I guess it's better than, say, taking drugs or drinking, though not quite as good for a person as bike riding--which, by the way, I've been doing.

Speaking of bike riding--with the emphasis on "bike"--I engaged in a bit of retail therapy.  Yes, I bought another bike.  I couldn't resist.  Well, all right, I could have.  But when the guy who sold it dropped the price, he lowered my resistance.

Truthfully, that bike would have been hard to resist anyway.  For one thing, it's a Mercian.  For another, it's the right size.  And the Campagnolo triple crankset and Rally derailleur definitely are rarities.

Oh, and that paint job!

One of the reasons why I got such a good deal, I believe, is that the bike has sew-up tires.  I haven't ridden such tires in about twenty years, and have no intention of riding them again.  The other things I'll change are the stem (because it's too long) and the saddle.  But, really, I simply couldn't pass up an almost-full Campagnolo bike on a Reynolds 531 frame with that paint job.  That paint job!

And it's a Mercian--a 1984 King of Mercia, to be exact.  The wheelbase and clearances--not to mention the rack braze-ons and the bottle cage mount on the underside of the down tube--give this bike a more-than-passing resemblance to touring bikes from Trek as well as a number of Japanese manufacturers during the early-to-mid '80's.  Tubular tires don't make much sense on it; I think that the original wheels were lost.  

Even after I replace the tires, rims, saddle and stem, this bike will still be a great buy.  Especially with that paint job!

An Apple A Day

You go for a ride on a hot day.  Then, at your destination--or simply a stop along the way--you sit under a tree, even if only for a couple of minutes.

Now, who wouldn't like that?  And what would make it better?  How about picking something from that tree and eating it?

I've been fortunate enough to do that. You probably know that even the best apple, grape, cherry or pear from your favorite farmer's market--let alone anything on which you can spend half of your paycheck at Whole Foods--tastes quite as good.

Needless to say, whenever I've had the chance to stop for the freshest possible snack,  I wasn't riding in my hometown.  Nor was I in any big city or suburban area.  On those days, my ride took me into the countryside--whether in Vermont, the southwest of France or upstate.  If you find a fruit tree in a city, chances are their bounty isn't edible:  That tree is, more than likely, ornamental.  Or they are grown for other purposes--like the orange trees I saw in towns along the Turkish Aegean coast, whose bitter fruit is used to make marmelade.  

Imagine what it would be like to take a city ride and pick your snack off a tree.  Better yet, imagine what it would be like for some kid in a urban ghetto to get a healthy snack or lunch from a tree in the schoolyard.

That is what Brett Lehner and Sonali Rodrigues have in mind.

They are medical students at the University of Connecticut who believe that access to fruit, and all other healthy food, is "a human right" that "should be available to everyone", in Lehner's words.

So, he and Rodrigues are about to embark on an "Apple A Day" bike ride.  But it won't be just any old bike ride:  They're going to pedal the 3500 miles (5500 kilometers) along the northern tier route from the Pacific coast of Washington State to Connecticut. 

Of course, the purpose of this ride is to raise funds--"seed money", if you will--to start their project.  Their goal--apart from getting back to Connecticut for the start of the school year--is for their idea to spread to as many schools as possible.  They are collaborating with the Northwest Conservation District, which will receive their funds and applications (presented by students themselves) for trees to be planted at their schools.  Those with the greatest need will receive first priority, according to Lehner and Rodrigues.

Riding bikes and planting fruit trees:  Those sound like good practices to me!

P.S.  I rode to Connecticut yesterday. More about that later.

Serendipities

I got up late today because last night, after riding, I stayed out until the wee hours of the morning. Then I couldn't sleep when I got home.

After showering and having a sort-of-vegetarian supper, I went to Columbus Circle  to meet Joe.  He lives in New Jersey and advertised a bike on Craig's List.  Last week, I sold my three-speed because it was small for me.  I liked the ride and look of it, but even with a long seatpost and stem, it never felt quite right.  Plus, I would have had to change saddles, as I did with my Mercians.  And that Raleigh three-speed, which was painted a bronze-greeen colour, simply would not have looked right with a new saddle.  (I had a brown Brooks--a very traditional leather saddle--on it.)

Anyway, Joe had some car troubles but finally made it to Columbus Circle.   His fiance, Deanna, accompanied him.  When they had just entered Manhattan, she called me.  "It's been a day from hell," she sighed.  I thought she said "date." 

"This is his idea of a date?," I wondered. 

She defended him; I laughed.   It wouldn't be the first time any of us laughed.

At any rate, the bike is what I'd anticipated:  It's a larger ladies' Scwhwinn Le Tour III, from around 1978.  The finish, once a rather nice pearlescent orange, is chipped, cracked and marred in all sorts of ways. But everything worked, and the price was right. 

I'm going to work on it.  I'll probably change the handlebars and seat, and I'm going to add  a rear rack and  fenders.  So it'll be a commuter/beater bike.

After I bought the bike, Joe and Deanna said they were heading downtown and invited me to accompany them to the Cafe Esperanto.  When we got there, we found that it had closed for good.  Instead, we went to Cafe Reggio, which I hadn't gone to in years.  It's not that I dislike the place:  They always have my respect for looking and acting like, rather than merely caricaturing, a funky bohemian cafe from back in the day.  Reggio served esperesso and cappucino before most Americans knew what they are; today Reggio's versions are still among the best.


But the best part was staying up half the night and talking about theatre (Joe is a sound engineer), art, politics and thinking generally.  He asked what I thought of Obama; after I explained why I've never been crazy about him, we got into a long conversation about foreign relations, conspiracy theories and such.  


It made me think of what my youth ight have been like if a few things had been different. It  was exhilarating to be on Macdougal Street, one of my old haunts, even if it was almost wall-to-wall people.  And there I was--the clean, sober woman I carried within me during those days of drunken bitterness.  Best of all--though it makes me a little sad now that it's the day after--is the way the conversation and their company stimulated me.  I almost never feel that way after spending time on campus, among some of my so-called educated coworkers and acquaintances.  That's one of the reasons why being at the college has been so dreadful lately:  In addition to all the pettiness, there is a severe lack of intellectual stimulation.


Ironic, isn't it, that I find mental stimulation on a Saturday night from a guy  who got a two-year degree and a woman who got her certification in cosmetology?  Also strange, n'est-ce pas, that in middle age, I'm finding the sorts of excitement I wanted in my youth, and that I found it when buying a used bike?


I guess that even when I find order in my life when I ride my bike, cycling also makes it--some way or another--unpredictable and serendipitous.