In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
It’s raining here in New York. I could go for a ride: After all, I have bikes with fenders. Maybe I will. Or I could go to the Botanical Garden, where the air will be fresh, even sweet.
Later this afternoon, I’m going to have dinner with my new friend and riding buddy, “Sam,” and his girlfriend. I probably will take a ride, however brief, tomorrow. In years past, I’ve avoided cycling on the day after Thanksgiving, a.k.a. Black Friday because drivers lose their minds pulling in and out of parking lots and spaces by the stores and malls running “sales.” But during the past few years, I’ve noticed less motor traffic, as more people are shopping online.
I most recently visited Montréal around this time of year in 2015. My visit spanned a holiday weekend in the US: Columbus/Indigenous People’s’ Day, which just happened to coincide with Canadian Thanksgiving. That weekend, foliage colors were at or near their peak, highlighting the city’s beauty.
Of course, one of the things that made my visit memorable was the cycling. La ville aux deux cent clochershad a network of protected bike lanes that was not only more extensive, but also seemed to be more practical for transportation cycling, than anything I’d seen in the US up to that time. Best of all, there seemed to be a respect between cyclists, pedestrians and motorists that I rarely, if ever, see in my home country.
Now, however, the sort of fight I thought could happen only in the ‘States might be brewing. It could pit cyclists and the city against…churchgoers.
A few months ago, bike lanes were installed on both sides of rue Terrebonne in the Nôtre Dame de Grace borough, and the previously two-way street became a one-way thoroughfare. That has upset business owners who say that the lanes have taken parking spaces and thus led to a loss of revenue.
But one of the most vigorous complaints has come from Paul Wong, the warden of St. Monica’s church. He claims that church attendance—and donations—have decreased by nearly a third because, as he tells it, parishioners can’t find parking.
Had such a scenario unfolded in the United States, Wong or someone like him might’ve turned it into a “religious freedom” issue. It will be interesting to see whether he can or does that. Canada’s constitution does guarantee freedom of religious expression. I am no scholar of either the U.S. or Canadian Constitution, but I have to wonder whether Canada’s laws could be interpreted in similar ways to US policies. There have been cases in which employees—mainly Muslim—of municipal, provincial and national governments alleged discrimination against them for wearing symbols or sartorial accoutrements of their faith while on the job.
One thing I would never mention to a congregant of any house of worship is that I am an atheist. Can you imagine what visions of a “conspiracy” that might invoke? Oh yeah, that transgender atheist cyclist is trying to keep us from worshipping in the way God wants us to.
Last week, an after-work ride zigzagged me through northern Bronx and Westchester County. Along the way I pedaled down a hill (I was on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike) to McLean Avenue in Yonkers. I had ridden McLean a number of times before but, ironically, last week was the first time since I’ve moved to my current place: From here, it’s only about 7 kilometers but about 30 from Astoria, depending on which route I took.
Anyway, on McLean, I couldn’t help but to notice a store that looked like it was being stripped to the walls. I stopped; indeed it was. Then I noticed a few bicycles, some with tags, bunched together in the middle of the floor.
I asked a man whether any of the ones without tags—which included a Cannondale road bike from, I believe, the ‘90’s, an early Schwinn Traveler and a Giant hybrid with a Brooks B17 saddle—were available. “They’re all accounted for. Sorry.”
I glanced to my left and saw another racing bike leaning against the wall. “Then I suppose that Eddy Mercx is also going to somebody.” He nodded.
I asked him why the shop closed. The shop’s founder retired; his son took over and things went downhill. There was a “sugar rush” early in the COVID-19 pandemic followed by a “crash”: when supply chains reopened and new merchandise was available, people who already bought bikes and accessories weren’t buying more, he explained.
Both parts of his story—the bike shop passing from one generation to the next and the pandemic boom-and-bust—are familiar narratives behind long-established bike shops that close. It later occurred to me, however, that there may be at least one other reason County Cycle Center has closed.
It was one of many family-owned businesses that have lined McLean, the main artery of a longtime Irish enclave that straddles that part of Yonkers and a slice of the Bronx next to Van Cortlandt Park. Like so much of my city and its surrounding areas, it’s changing as longtime residents die or retire to the Sun Belt and their kids and grandkids move away. County Cycle, which graced McLean for nearly six decades, seemed to be the sort of shop where parents bought their kids bikes for Christmas or their birthdays, and those kids would return to buy their kids bikes and, perhaps, “grown up” bikes for themselves. (It was an authorized Schwinn dealer and later took on Fuji, Trek, Cannondale and GT.) Such shops depend on relationships they develop with people in the community; when those people leave or die, those who move in—especially if they are young or from different cultural backgrounds—may not feel inclined to get to know members of the neighborhood’s “establishment.”
I inferred the story about the shop’s relationship to its community after I got home. I realized I had stopped in that shop on at least one earlier ride and remembered that the man I met—the founder?—was curious about my bike because it was something that didn’t normally pass through his shop. I think I bought a small tool or water bottle, and he was happy for my business.
He may not be able to get you a custom frame or a replica of whatever won the Tour or Giro or Vuelta this year. Folks who ride integrated carbon fiber cockpits may turn up their noses at him and his shop. But folks like him are interesting and thankful for small things. I will miss him and them, and their shops.
Before firing the shot that grazed Donald Trump’s ear, Thomas Matthew Crooks (Can you think of a better name?) scoped out the area around the rally—on his bicycle.
Oh, and we’ve all seen videos of President Joe Biden wobbling and falling off his Trek.
What does that mean? For the first time in US history, a bicycle was involved in endangering the lives of both major-party candidates in a Presidential elections.
Bicycles! We all know they’re a Green Commie Chinese device to undermine national security. Therefore…We simply must ban them.
Of course you know, dear readers, that I would never propose anything so outrageous. Rather, it’s the premise of a Washington Free Beacon editorial.
Its author, Andrew Stiles, clearly labels his work as “satire.” As such, it’s very good—even if, as I suspect, he is lampooning his and the WFB’s editorial board’s idea of what cycling, recycling, gender-“changing” pinkos like me think about guns.
Another school shooting. Ban all guns.
For the record, I am not at all in favor of outlawing firearms. I have not so much as handled one in more than four decades. But I understand that if I were to pick one up, I won’t be on a slippery slope to shooting up a shopping mall.
Two of my uncles were hunters. I have been in rural homes where the meat in the freezer came from a family member’s skill with using a rifle that was propped against a wall. And, as the matriarch of one such family pointed out, in a remote area like hers, it could take the police an hour to arrive in response to an emergency call. That is, if they can even get to a house like hers, which may not be accessible from a paved road.
So, of course I don’t favor, any more than Bernie Sanders, “taking everyone’s guns away.” I do favor, however, stronger safeguards against unbalanced people getting their hands on weapons of war.
That said, I also think that to keep kids safe, we need to post copies of the Ten Commandments in every classroom*—just as we need to Andrew Stiles’ proposal to keep this country—and its presidential candidates—safe.
*—I would love to hear how a teacher might explain #7 to a second-grader.
Although I consider myself a “99 percent” pacifist, I have the utmost respect for veterans. It actually pains me physically to know that some are living under bridges, railroad trestles and highway overpasses. I’ve seen them while riding for fun, commuting or errands and have offered money, food, bottles to recycle or other items. Sometimes they were too proud or ashamed (which are really the same thing) to accept; other times, I have discreetly left items or money to “find.”
I mention my attitude and relationship toward veterans in the hope that no one thinks I’m disrespecting them with the comparison I am about to make.
I do not support the removal of a gravestone or any other monument to any veteran—whether he or she died in battle at a young age or was an officer who lived to his or her dotage, and whether he or she was on the “right” side of a conflict. Most combatants are conscripted or join because of familial or societal pressures. They are all part of a carnage which I hope, however naïvely, will be seen one day as unnecessary as alpaca pantaloons.
Likewise, I would hope that all of the tributes—including “ghost” bikes—to cyclists killed by motorists are never removed.
Apparently, some person or organization in Austin, Texas doesn’t share my view. “Ghost” bikes have been disappearing from the city’s streets.
Some people believe they are being retrieved for scrap metal, possibly by unhoused people. But there are also rumors that they are being systematically removed by city agencies or individuals who aren’t as in dire straits as the unhoused but don’t want to be reminded of any unpleasantness. As one resident whined, “A person died here, for heaven’s sake. Can’t you just let it be?”
I wonder whether that person would want to “just let it be” if the person to whom the monument was dedicated had died in defending the Alamo or slavery—which, if you read any history at all, you would realize are the same thing.
The 12th of February. When I was in elementary school, this day was a holiday, in honor of Abraham Lincoln’s birthday.
Less commonly known, at least in the US, is that he shares a birthdate—in 1809–with someone who changed the course of history, if in a different way.
I am talking about Charles Darwin.
Now that I think of it, they have more in common than having been born on the same day. Darwin’s theory explains how life forms adapt and change in response to their conditions. Lincoln’s work was both a cause and effect of the ways in which his country was changing and in which human minds and spirits were changing, and still must change.
So, perhaps, we could say that while Darwin gave us the theory of physical evolution, Lincoln understood and worked for mental and spiritual evolution.
I would love for this date to be celebrated as Lincoln’s birthday. And I dare Texas, Florida or any other state—or this country—to commemorate Darwin on this day!
A year or so into the COVID-19 pandemic, some bicycle shops—including Harris Cyclery, Sheldon Brown’s “home” shop—closed for business. They were, ironically, casualties of the COVID-19 Bike Boom: When their inventories sold out, no new merchandise was available because lockdowns disrupted supply chains.
Now a long-established bicycle shop may close due to a lack of inventory. Its situation, however, has nothing to do with the pandemic.
About two weeks ago, Najari Smith opened the doors of his shop, Rich City Rides, as he had every day for the past ten years. However, that day’s shop opening would be unlike any other.
He saw, “all the display cases emptied out.” Looking around, he noticed “all the inventory we had on the wall,” which included lights, locks and other accessories, “was gone.”
Now, his shop is far from the first to experience a burglary. But losing about $10,000 worth of merchandise “hurts on a different level,” he explained, “because we’re not a big box store.” The impact is so great that Rich City Cycles will have to shut down “for the foreseeable future,” he declared.
Such a theft not only affects the livelihood of Smith. It also has a negative impact on a community. Smith has organized and led numerous rides. Also, he has been in business long enough that “kids you meet at 15, they have their own kids now.” In other words, he is a mentor and probably a friend to many in his community.
Moreover, the shop, like others, “represents a culture,” according to Contra Costa County Supervisor John Gioia, who represents the district. That culture is one of health, environment, working with young people and young adults,” he elaborated.
Such values are badly needed in Richmond, California the shop’s locale. The city, on the northeastern shore of San Francisco Bay, seems to have been untouched by the tech fortunes that have transformed San Francisco, Sm Jose and other community in the area. While Richmond includes suburban-style middle-class neighborhoods, it also has the notorious “Iron Triangle” and other areas afflicted by crime and poverty—and few options for healthy food and recreation.
Smith and his business partner hope to re-open their shop—and provide its tangible and intangible benefits it has provided the community.
If Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. were with us, he would be 95 years old today.
Although I believe he would be on the right side of just about any cause you can think of, I try not to speculate too much because, well, we can’t know for sure. For example, many in the LGBTQ community, and our allies, have made him into one of our would-be advocates. I think he would have spoken up for us, but he would have joined with us slowly and carefully, as he did when he voiced his opposition to the Vietnam War. He was, after all, a pastor in a church that included many socially conservative congregants and clerics. Even many of his more secular political allies saw homosexuality, let alone any sort of gender variance as a pathology or even a form of criminality.
I have little doubt, however, that he would have endorsed, or at least approved of, bicycling for transportation as well as recreation. After all, he was known to ride—and he looked happy on his bike. But more important, I believe, was his growing awareness that he was working for economic justice. (This is a reason why some believe that he might have joined forces with Malcolm X had they not been assassinated.)
He probably would have seen the bicycle as a vehicle, if you will, for achieving those goals. Not only are bicycles relatively inexpensive and accessible, they help to reduce the environmental ills that disproportionately affect people of color and with low incomes. Also, cycling, like other forms of exercise, helps to combat diseases that—wait for it—also afflict the poor and people of color.
Hmm…Perhaps Transportation Alternatives and other cycling-related organizations should have a portrait of Martin hanging in their headquarters.
One valid criticism of bike lanes, and bicycle infrastructure generally, is that they’re constructed mainly in gentrified or gentrifying neighborhoods. Whenever someone suggests that the lanes, bike parking facilities and bike share programs into neighborhoods populated by people who are darker or poorer than those in Williamsburg or Chelsea, the excuse for not “sharing the wealth ,” if you will, is that “people don’t ride bikes” in areas like Jamaica, Queens.
That is a point Samuel Santella makes on Streetsblog. He lives in Saint Albans, a southern Queens community that is a “transportation desert:” it is not served by the New York City subway system and only a couple of bus lines traverse it. So, its residents—nearly 90 percent of whom are Black—either drive or, like Santella, ride their bicycles, whether to their destinations or to the subway in nearby Jamaica.
Many New York City neighborhoods like Jamaica have a “downtown” that is a commercial district and transportation hub. Santella, as he recounts in his piece, rides to Jamaica to take the subway to Brooklyn. He shows how it’s difficult to cycle safely on any of the thoroughfares that lead to the train stations. Hillside and Jamaica Avenues are essentially “stroads,” while Archer Avenue has a bus lane that are, technically, illegal for cycling. And all of those streets are chaotic messes of delivery vehicles and “dollar vans” that ferry people from neighborhoods like his to the subway and Long Island Rail Road (yes, it’s spelled as two words) stations.
I know what he’s talking about: I sometimes ride those streets. As a matter of fact, I cycled them almost daily for seven years, when I worked at York College, in the middle of Jamaica. I experienced some of the pandemonium he describes, which is undoubtedly worse than it was when I was making the commute in pre-pandemic, pre-Uber days when SUVs, while growing in popularity, didn’t dominate the roads as they do now.
In previous posts, I’ve written “lines of paint do not a bike lane make.”
I admit it’s not Shakespearean. (Then again, what besides Shakespeare is?) But I think it sums up at least one major flaw in too much of bicycle infrastructure planning.
Now I have to come up with another catchy line—for bollards.
I was greeted with this scene at the other end of my block. The city’s Department of Transportation probably believed cyclists like me would be thrilled to have a bike lane running down our street. But I, and some other cyclists, are among its most vocal critics.The lane isn’t wide enough for two-way bicycle traffic, let alone the eBikes, mini-motorcycles and motorized scooters that, most days, seem to outnumber unassisted pedal bicycles.
Moreover, as you can see, bollards offer little more protection than lines of paint. On more than one occasion, I have seen drivers use the bike path as a passing lane—when cyclists are using it. I can understand ambulances or other emergency vehicles passing in the lane (as long as bicycles aren’t in it, of course) because Mount Sinai hospital is on the lane’s route. But some drivers, I think, pass in the lane out of frustration or spite.
The situation has been exacerbated by the recent construction in the neighborhood. I suspect that the bollards were crushed by a truck pulling toward or away from one of the sites. I also suspect that the destruction wasn’t intentional: In my experience, commercial truck drivers tend to be more careful than others and when they strike objects—or cyclists or pedestrians—it tends to be because the drivers didn’t see them.
Anyway, what I saw underscores something I’ve told friends and neighbors: Sometimes, the most dangerous part of my ride is the lane that runs in front of my apartment!
Today, I am going to give you some advice you probably didn’t expect to find on this blog.
Here goes: In North America, if you want to get away with killing someone run over that person with a car, truck, bus or other motorized vehicle.For one thing, dead victims can’t tell their side of the story. So, even with the worst lawyer (or no lawyer), the most egregiously aggressive or careless driver can make him or her self seem blameless.
For another, North America has had a “car culture” for a century. Roads and intersections are therefore built or re-configured to convey motorized traffic as quickly and efficiently as possible. Such a mentality among planners has inculcated a few generations of Americans with the notion that the cyclist or pedestrian is somehow a second-class citizen, at best.
Such attitudes, combined with anger at whatever or whomever, or with any other mental disturbance, often lead drivers to believe they have the right to run down cyclists. Such an attitude, I think, nearly turned Sacramento cycling advocate Sherry Martinez into such a victim.
“I have four broken ribs, a fractured clavicle, a partial collapsed lung from a collision “I can’t remember,” she said from her hospital bed. Fortunately for her, there are people who remember it: members of the small group of cyclists with whom she was riding, as well as other witnesses.
Their testimony, and witnesses’ photos, confirmed the charge against 30-year-old Caleb Taubman: He deliberately drove his pickup truck at Martinez.
In other words, he’s been charged with assault with a deadly weapon. Members of Sacramento’s cycling community have engaged in a letter-writing campaign urging the district attorney to prosecute Taubman to the fullest extent of the law.
Taubman has been released and awaits his first court date. Whenever it is, he is on a more certain timeline than that of Sherry Martinez She has no exact date when she!l be well enough to discharged from the hospital. And I imagine that when she’s released, she’ll still have a long road to recovery ahead of her.
At least Caleb Taubman won’t get away with murder—we hope.
Someone, I forget who, told me, “The really rich never pay for anything.”
I guess Harry and Meghan, even though they stepped away from some of the Royal life’s trappings (which really trapped some!), qualify. Their son just got a new bike for his birthday and neither his mum nor his dad had to shell out shillings, dole out dollars or proffer their platinum (or whatever level of credit card accrues to Royals).
You see, a shop in their current hometown—Montecito, California—gave the bike, gratis. This act of generosity came to light when the shop publicized the “thank you” note the couple (or one of their assistants) sent.
Such a move, of course,’ garners publicity. Most of it was positive, but some believe that the shop should have donated the bike to a kid needier than lil’ Archie.
Call me wishy-washy,‘but I can sympathize with both sides. Businesses gift celebrities everything from bagels to ‘Benzes and gardenias to gala gowns. The publicity usually pays off and, I imagine, enables some creators and entrepreneurs to give their wares to those less fortunate. Still, if someone has to choose between giving to the rich or the poor, I would rather that the gift goes to someone who might not have it otherwise.
Then again, I can understand why—alert from being in their hometown—why the shop would give a bike to a royal tyke: It’s called Mad Dogs & Englishmen.
Today is Memorial Day in the United States. In other countries, it’s known as Remembrance Day—which I think is more fitting.
Bicycles have played an important, if unsung role, in various conflicts during the past century and a half. Perhaps they were most prominent in World War I.
Anzac Corps soldiers in Henencourt, France, 1917
Let us not forget how useful and necessary bicycles have been to people who are trying to escape the horrors of war, like this Jewish teenager—Pessah Cofnas (yes, he survived)
From the collection of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum
or as a way of getting around when highways are blocked, gasoline is unavailable and other modes of transportation are disrupted or destroyed.
Let us remember those who served and sacrificed. But let us prevent more such tragedies.
Once upon a time, I was a wannabe, unsuccessful, and then a manqué, racer. I wore jerseys—and sometimes shorts and helmets—that were veritable riots of color.
These days, most of the Lycra bike outfits I see are in carbon-bike hues: stealth black, carbon-neutral gray and the like.
If one were to ask most Americans which possessions they most fear losing, their cars would be high on their lists. Especially in areas outside city cores, away from mass transportation networks, people depend on their automobiles to get to work or school and for many everyday tasks.
For people who don’t own or drive cars—whether by choice or circumstances—bicycles can be their connection to the rest of the world. I am one such person. Others include a club in which I hope not to become a member: people who don’t have housing.
In New York, where I live, and in other cities, one often sees battered, grimy and rusty machines among tents, sleeping bags, shopping carts, boxes and shipping crates sprawled under bridge and highway underpasses, train trestles and in any public space with something spread, hanging or standing over it that can provide at least a partial shield from rain and other elements. Because those spaces are often squalid, through no fault of their inhabitants (Americans never have been very good at taking care of public spaces), whatever ends up in them—including their inhabitants’ possessions and the inhabitants themselves—are seen as disposable.
At least, that seems to be the attitude (mis)guiding some City of San Diego officials. They, who fancy themselves the finest of the self-proclaimed “America’s Finest City,” went into encampments (Would they enter someone’s house or apartment without knocking on the door or ringing the bell?) and tossed unhoused people’s bikes into garbage trucks.
As activist Jacob Mandel pointed out, “For unhoused people, a bicycle can be a lifeline, providing low-cost/free transportation to employment that could break the cycle of poverty.”
He added, “The city is destroying those lifetimes.” Not to mention that if anyone else did what those officials did, it would be considered theft.
About a month and a half ago, Mayor Eric Adams ordered “sweeps” of homeless people’s encampments in my city, New York. He claims, rightly, that sleeping on park benches or under overpasses is “no way to live.” His real motive, I think, is to appease moderate and conservative voters who believe that the city is descending into the “chaos” of the 1970s and 1980s.
He’s been telling homeless people that they should go to the shelters. So far, 39 people—roughly one per day since the program started—have heeded his call.
Frankly, I’m amazed that many have moved in. The shelters are seen as dangerous places because mentally ill and violent people are cheek-by-jowl with people whose luck simply ran out. Also, I can hardly imagine a better incubator for COVID or other transmissible diseases.
Probably the most wrongheaded part of the sweeps is the destruction of tents, partitions or whatever else people might be using to shield themselves—and whatever possessions they may have. Those possessions sometimes include bicycles.
Something similar is happening in San Diego. A video circulating on Twitter shows police officers confiscating and trashing bicycles owned by homeless residents near Petco Park.
I don’t know whether San Diego’s mayor is following Adams’ lead in trying to coax people into shelters. It might be more difficult in the self-proclaimed “America’s Finest City,” with its year-round mild climate. But, whatever the condition of its shelters, people won’t be enticed into them if the city takes and destroys their perfectly good bicycles.
Hello I don’t know whether San Diego is trying to move people into shelters as Eric Adams is in New York. Even if the shelters are cleaner and safer, I imagine it might be even more difficult to convince folks in San Diego, with its year-round temperate climate. In any even, confiscating and destroying people’s possessions—especially bicycles—doesn’t seem like much of an incentive, whatever the climate or to move people into shelters as Eric Adams is in New York. Even if the shelters are cleaner and safer, I imagine it might be even more difficult to convince folks in San Diego, with its year-round temperate climate. In any even, confiscating and destroying people’s possessions—especially bicycles—doesn’t seem like much of an incentive, whatever the climate or conditions in the shelters
Since I am not Irish (at least, not to my knowledge!), I will not tell you whether or how to celebrate this day. I will say, however, that so much of what we’ll see today is what I’ll call Celtic Kitsch. (Confession: I was in college before I knew that the “C” at the beginning of “Celtic” is pronounced like a “k.” Until then, I’d been pronouncing the word as “sell-tick,” like the basketball team in Boston.) The truth is, few can agree on what is “authentically” Irish. Although schools teach the Gaelic language, nearly everyone speaks (beautifully) the language of their colonizers. And, apart from Roman Catholicism with a strong monastic tradition—which the young are largely abandoning—we actually know little about pre-Anglo Irish culture and history.
James Joyce understood as much. Although all of his writing is set in his native country—which he lived away from for most of his adult life—he is not part of a “Celtic revival.” Instead, he used Ireland—Dublin, mainly—as a lens through which he could explore how people move through life, and how it moves through them—and, perhaps most important, our minds re-assemble it all, whether in images or language—or simply deal live with it as the chaos it is.
Some have said that Joyce’s works—specifically Dubliners and Ulysses—are therefore to literature what Picasso’s Cubist paintings are to art. Others have called him the first “cinematic” writer. I agree with both, and would add that his narrative style is like a bicycle ride: Whenever I take a ride, even one I’ve done hundreds of times, I see not only people and things I haven’t seen before, but a building, a city block, a tree or a seashore from an angle or in a different kind of light (or darkness) from what I saw on that same ride on a different day.
Martina Devlin, Darina Gallagher and Donna Cooney seem to understand as much. On Sunday, they participated in a Dublin St. Patrick’s Day parade that includes a procession of 100 cyclists dressed in Ulysses-themed Edwardian clothes. They took spectators on a journey through places in the book.
Martina Devlin, Darina Gallagher and Donna Cooney (Photo by Norma Burke)
Cooney, the artistic director of the Dublin Cycling Campaign (now there’s a job I wouldn’t mind having!) said this year’s bicycle procession and St.Patrick’s Day parade are particularly special because February was the 100-year anniversary of Ulysses’ publication. But the essence of the event might have been best summed up by Devlin, a writer whose speech included an excerpt from the novel and began with this: “One of the landmark days in my life was when I learned how to ride a bike.”
“I felt as if I were on the road to somewhere.”
As were the cyclists and marchers in the Dublin parade, 100 years after Ulysses came into the world.
Marshall McLuhan famously said, “The medium is the message.”
What would he have thought of this?:
I encountered it while riding down Driggs Avenue, one of the north-south thoroughfares of northern Brooklyn. The corner gifted with that message is South 2nd Street, just a couple of blocks from the bridge named for the neighborhood.
Given that Williamsburg, Brooklyn (at least the part north of the bridge) is the world’s capital of trust fund kids posing as hipsters, I have to wonder whether it’s one of their lame attempts at being “ironic.”
Jackson Heights is five to six kilometers from my apartment. I have ridden through it, many times, along various routes. Still, a ride can lead me to some interesting corner or structure I’d never seen or noticed before.
This is one such building. At first glance, it doesn’t seem out of place: Like most of what is now in the neighborhood, it was built during the late 1920s: around the same time as the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings. Also, many palatial movie theatres were constructed during that time, just when movies were becoming the most popular form of popular entertainment. So it would be easy to take this building for a Loews or RKO cinema, especially when you look up.
Those “movie houses” often combined the line structures and geometric shapes of Art Deco with Egyptian motifs. They sound like an odd pairing until you look at them—and you realize that Howard Carter discovered King Tutankhamen’s tomb in the early 1920s, setting off a fad for all things Egyptian just as Art Deco was becoming the most influential style in architecture and design.
That is why this building doesn’t look out of place in Jackson Heights and would look right in parts of the Bronx or Miami Beach, which were also developed around the same time.
What makes this building so unusual, is this:
I grew up Catholic and have entered all sorts of church buildings and cathedrals here, in Europe and Asia. I can’t say, however, that I’ve seen any other Catholic Church building—or, for that matter, any other house of worship—that looks quite like this one.
And to think: I came across it just because I decided to make a turn, and ride down a street, I hadn’t before. That is one of the joys of cycling!
The Tour Cycliste Féminin International de l’Ardèche has become one of the premier women’s bike races. Since its first edition in 2003, èlite cyclists and teams have used its long climbs in the Alpes Maritimes and high-octane sprints in the Rhône and Ardèche valleys as late-season preparation for the World Championships, held in late September. The race has also served as a window to up-and-coming riders and teams.
That is why it’s significant that Ayesha McGowan is making her debut in this year’s edition of the race, which begins today. For years, she has ridden for teams of the Liv brand in the US. On 1 August, she was promoted to Liv’s top-tier racing team, which competes internationally.
Understandably, for McGowan, “there will be tears of joy” because “the hard work is now paying off.” Last year, Cyclingnews named her to its Power List of the 50 Most Influential People in cycling.
She was named to that list for, not only her cycling accomplishments, but also her advocacy for more diversity in the sport’s brands, organizations, teams, events and media. If I were her, I might be crying other kinds of tears for having the need to call for more inclusion, a century and a quarter after Major Taylor won the World Championship and was acknowledged (if at times grudgingly or even with hostility) as the world’s greatest cyclist.
