And What Did You Find In Your Barn?

What have you found in your attic or barn?

Well, I have never had a barn and, at the moment, I don't have an attic.  So I've never come across some masterpiece one of my grandparents bought at a flea market without realizing what they got.  Then again, my grandparents came to this country because they didn't want to shop in flea markets:  To them, not being poor anymore meant buying shiny, new stuff, not "other people's junk."  

Anyway, I've bought stuff in flea markets by choice and, while I've found stuff I like, I have never unwittingly bought something by an old master.  Or any other interesting artifact of history.  If I ever do, perhaps by then I'll have an attic--or a barn--where I can stash it and someone can find it long after I'm gone.

Then again, I don't know that I'd buy such things unwittingly.  If I knew I'd stumbled over a treasure, I'd stay calm, buy it and celebrate after I brought it home.

Especially if it's a rare old bicycle.

Glynn Stockdale in his Penny Farthing Museum, in Cheshire.

That is what Glynn Stockdale did.  He couldn't believe his luck when he found what he calls "the holy grail" of collectors' items. Or, more precisely, when it found him.

The Knutsford, Cheshire resident received a call about a two-wheeled contraption someone found in a disused barn during a demolition.  It's not known how long the vehicle was there, but Stockdale, a self-described bicycle enthusiast, immediately recognized it as a "hobby horse".

The Johnson hobby-horse, 1819

Turns out, Denis Johnson made it in 1819. He made 319 others that year, after getting a patent for it the previous year, and only 12 are known to be in existence today.

Aside from the fact that it's nearly two centuries old, why did the Johnson hobby-horse so excite him?  Well, most historians agree that the first bicycle--or, at least the first vehicle to be recognized as such--was made by Karl von Drais in 1816.  Like the Johnson creation, it consisted of two wheels and was propelled, not by pedals, but by the rider pushing his or her feet along the ground.  Its popularity spread to the upper classes-- of Paris (where it was called the Draisienne) and London.  Soon, versions of the Draisienne were being made in England and France.

Thus, Mr. Stockdale may well have acquired one of the very first--if not the very first--bicycle made in England.  And Johnson may have been the first to make a dropped-bar version of the bike for women to accomodate the long skirts they wore at that time.

It's a good thing Mr. Stockdale got a hold of it.  He is no ordinary bike enthusiast:  A former interior designer, he started his penny farthing museum in Cheshire in 1989. That museum, of course, will be the Johnson bike's new home.

Are Starlings Afraid Of Her?

[T]he cyclists go in flocks like starlings, gathering together, skimming in & out.

Yes, I wrote that...in another life.  If only....

Actually, it was written about a quarter century before I was born, by someone whose talent I wish I could have, if only for a day.  And she was writing about cyclists in a city she was visiting.

I have visited that city, too.  I am sure, though, that there wasn't a cloud hanging over it--unless you count the Cold War, which shrouded every place--as there was during her sojourn there.

Most people in that city were living relatively peaceful lives.  But in a neighboring country, a xenophobic demagogue had seized the reins of power by, essentially, convincing people that foreigners and members of minority groups were responsible for everything that had gone wrong in their nation.  And his sense of hair styling was, shall we say, out of the ordinary.

No, I'm not talking about The Orange One. I am referring, of course, to the author of Mein Kampf.

Now, he wasn't nearly as good a writer as the person who penned the quote at the beginning of this post. (A professor of mine once told me that most translations make MK sound better-written than it actually is.)  But he would, within a few years, invade the country where the cyclists skimmed in and out on its capital's streets.

Telegram deliverers in Amsterdam, 1930

That capital is, of course, Amsterdam.  And the observant visitor was none other than Virginia Woolf, who recorded that verbal image of its cyclists in her diary.

Today is her 136th birthday.  She never looked better--her writing, I mean.

What Would They Say To Each Other?

Well-behaved women seldom make history.

By now, you've probably seen that saying on more than a few bumper stickers.  You might have even heard it.  

Just for fun, I've asked people who said it first.  The answers have included almost every kind of woman imaginable, from Eleanor Roosevelt to Marilyn Monroe and Gloria Steinem to Kim Kardashian.

Kim Kardashian?  I'm not even sure "seldom" is in her vocabulary!

I confess:  Until I knew better, I would have believed that Eleanor Roosevelt uttered it.  For that matter, I could have believed it came from Sinead O'Connor or even Madonna.  But, alas, the pithy quote spilled from the pen of an academic with whom even I wasn't familiar. (Shh..don't tell anybody!)

She is none other than Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, a Pulitzer-Prize winning historian.  That saying, however, was not part of the work that would earn her acclaim:  it was tucked in an article she wrote as a graduate student.  Ironically, some three decades later, she would use that aphorism as the title of a book, precisely because it was everywhere.

Now, I must say, with all due respect to Professor Ulrich, I generally try to behave myself, and even try to resemble a lady, at least in some ways.  I also must say that I am constitutionally incapable of being so well-behaved at every moment.  Yes, there are times when I "lose it" and use words graduate students rarely use in papers they're trying to publish in the hopes of becoming professors.

I won't repeat those words here.  Fortunately--for me, anyway--most of the drivers (and errant pedestrians) who were at the receiving end of my "good old Anglo Saxon words" never saw me again. 

Let's face it:  When a driver who's texting almost kills you, it's hard not to yell and curse.   Those "four letter words" are most accessible when we're under stress and in danger, especially when it's caused by someone else's negligence or stupidity.  

But what if bikes and cars could talk?  What would they say to each other in such situations?

That question isn't as fanciful as you might think.  Trek is partnering with Ford and Tome Software to come up with a bicycle-to-vehicle (B2V) communications system that alerts drivers to bicycles that might be ahead of them in dangerous areas of the road.  

One thing I find interesting is that the partners are trying make their system "brand agnostic", so it's not tied to one platform or product. (And we can't have Net Neutrality?) For the next year, he will be working at the Mcity autonomous vehicle test site at the University of Michigan to develop software that can go into bike and car accessories and apps.

 "This is something that will absolutely save lives if we do this, " says Tome founder and CEO Jake Sigal.  

I don't doubt him.  I just wonder what he will have bikes and cars saying to each other in a B2V communications system.  Will they be well-behaved?

Which Way Was He Supposed To Go?

Few things vex me more than a designated bike lane that's poorly designed, constructed or maintained--or that ends abruptly or simply doesn't go anywhere.

Such lanes are not merely annoying or inconvenient:  Riding them is, as often as not, more dangerous than sharing the roadway with motorized traffic.

That is especially true if the direction of the bike lane is not clearly indicated--or, as in one case in northern California, a new lane is under construction or has been constructed to replace an existing one, but there is no indication of which one the cyclist should use.

For Matthew James Newman, such confusion proved fatal.  According to his widow a lawyer representing the family, Newman was riding along Highway 29 when he came to a railroad crossing.  

The safest--really, the only safe-- way to cross railroad tracks is at a 90 degree angle. According to reports, there was no way to do that where Newman met his fate:  the road crossed at a "severe" angle.  When he approached, his wheel got caught in a flangeway and he was thrown off his bike, which injured his head.  He died the next day from his injuries.

Now, some might argue that he was at fault for not wearing a helmet. But the suit his family has filed alleges that Caltrans was at fault for not clearly marking the hazard. 

Actually, that intersection had been marked with a sign warning riders to get off their bikes and walk across.  At least it was until some time before Newman made his fateful crossing.  When that sign was taken down is not the main issue, however.  Rather, it is another sign that was or wasn't nearby:  one indicating whether a new route was open to cyclists.

According to the family's attorney, Bill Johnson of Bennett & Johnson LLP in Oakland, the new path still appeared to be under construction--at least to Newman. "It was ambiguous and confusing which route he was supposed to take," according to Johnson. "If you didn't make the right decision, you were in peril."

Had there been a clear indication that Newman should have taken the new path, he would have, according to his family and Johnson.  He had traveled the route he took once, years before, so he probably thought he was making the "safer" choice.  Apparently, though, during that time he'd forgotten about the way it crossed the tracks.  

In addition to Caltrans, the suit includes the Ghilotti Brothers Construction company of San Rafael.  Johnson believes they were doing work on the bike path at the time of the incident, and therefore shared the responsibility for warning of dangerous conditions.

If He Doesn't Think It Should Require Bravery, Why Should You?

"Riding a bicycle or crossing a street shouldn't require bravery."

I'm told that your insurance premiums increase automatically if you try to do either on Queens Boulevard.  But the words that opened this post weren't uttered by a fellow resident of my NYC borough.

That person also said he wants to see a network of cycle and walking routes "a 12-year-old would want to use".  

He explained "people do the easiest thing", so whatever is created to encourage cycling and walking must be "easy, attractive and safe--all three, in that order".  Otherwise, it will be all but impossible to entice drivers in his city--where 30 percent of all car trips are less than one kilometer in length--to trade four wheels for two wheels or feet.

Our cycling/pedestrian advocate isn't trying to turn his city into Portland.  Rather, he wants to alleviate its traffic problems, and to reduce levels of air pollution and obesity--which, he wisely points out, will save far greater amounts of money than would be initially spent on a practical, safe network of bicycle and pedestrian lanes.

That last argument could gain more traction in his country, which has a single-payer (i.e., taxpayer-funded) system of health care, than in the US or other nations with profit-driven health care systems.  

You might have guessed by now that the fellow is on the other side of the Atlantic.  Right you are:  He is British, and the city he's talking about is his home town of Manchester.

That fellow is Greater Manchester's Cycling and Walking Commissioner and a British Cycling policy advisor.  But you probably know him better for his exploits while pedaling on a world stage.

I am talking about none other than an Olympic Gold Medalist,erstwhile Hour Record holder and winner of six Tour de France stages:  Chris Boardman.  

If he doesn't think riding a bicycle or crossing a street should require bravery, why should you--or anyone else?