Hipster Girls And The Black Hat Hole

“Very well then, I contradict myself (I am large, I contain multitudes)”

Walt Whitman may have given us one of the best definitions of good mental health. A corollary to that might be that maturity is understanding that we all have our contradictions:  After all, who tries to live by any book or idea, to the letter, once he or she has had to hold down a job

Anyway, I won’t try to assess whether, or how well, some Hasidic men in Brooklyn understand their own internal (and sometimes external) juxtapositions.  I do, however, find it interesting that when Citibike went online just over a decade ago, the Ultra-Orthodox community of South Williamsburg included some of the bike-share program’s most enthusiastic users—and some of its fiercest opponents.

While “Williamsburg” became synonymous with “hipster” and “gentrification,” the area south of the eponymous bridge to Manhattan remained one of this city’s two major Hasidic enclaves. (Borough Park is the other. East Williamsburg is, arguably, the heart of the Big Apple’s Puerto Rican community.) One notable difference between Hasidim and the hipsters and Nuyoricans is family size.  That leaves little, if any room, for a bicycle in their living quarters.

Another visible difference is that from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday, streets on Hasidic neighborhoods are deserted, except when people are walking to or from shul. And, of course, there is sartorial style: It, shall we say, leaves much to the imagination.

That last point was an argument against installing Citibike ports in the neighborhood. Some Hasidic rabbis and other community leaders complained that those blue bikes streamed “immodest” riders—or, in thr words of one Reddit commenter “sexy ass hipster girls” —down their neighborhood’s streets.

A result of this tension was the “Hasidic hole” or, as one wag put it, “black hat hole” of Citibike availability. Hasidim were walking as much as a mile to access the bikes.

The map on the left reflects Citi Bike last year. The map on the right is the current coverage. (The green zone is the Brooklyn Navy Yard, which is not a public area)

Recently, freshman City Council member Lincoln Restler, who is Jewish but not Hasidic or even Orthodox, has been doing what his predecessor Stephen Levin (also Jewish but not Orthodox) couldn’t. He has negotiated with Hasidic leaders to shrink that “hole” and make Citibike—which now includes eBikes—more accessible. He is also working to bring more bicycle infrastructure to a part of the city that is better-served than most.

His efforts might allow a community to accept its contradictions:  People might profess shock and dismay over “sexy ass Hipster girls” (who, I assure them, don’t include me!) but they appreciate the convenience and fun of cycling.

The Cloud Over Black Friday

 

Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day in the US.  Today is “Black Friday,” the unofficial  start of the Christmas shopping season. Online as well as brick-and-mortar retailers offer “sales” on popular items.  Too often, “sale” prices aren’t much, if at all, less than what people  can find without much trouble when they aren’t pumped up with  Black Friday hype. That’s why I don’t participate in the spectacles that, too often, seem like the running of the bulls when store doors open and throngs of shoppers charge through .

The concept seems to have spread beyond this country’s borders and shores—and to online retailers.  The bike business seems to have been pulled into it—by necessity, some industry insiders argue.  The COVID pandemic Bike Boom seems to have gone “bust:” After the shortages of bikes and anything related to them that caused some shops to close in 2020 and 2021, remaining distributors and dealers stocked up as soon as merchandise became available again. But the demand of the peak pandemic year’s didn’t continue: People who thought about cycling during the lockdowns abandoned such thoughts when gyms and other venues re-opened. Oh, and whatever economists (or TV personalities who play them on Fox News and CNBC) tell us about a “robust” economy, many cyclists (including yours truly) don’t have much spare cash or even credit.

That said, there are good deals to be had.  Even if I were swimming in green, however, I don’t think I’d be shopping: I have what I need (at least when it comes to cycling) and I don’t want more things. Most of all, I don’t want to follow the imperative to “buy until you die.”

The Bike Lane Didn't Get Her There Safely

 Some who read yesterday's post might believe that I'm becoming (or already am) a whiny ingrate. But even in a relatively bike-conscious country like the UK, simply building bike lanes--even "hardened" ones--isn't enough to ensure the safety of cyclists.

Last Friday afternoon, Trish Elphinstone was riding on a designated bike path--one that is physically separated from the road it parallels.  A driver steered a black sedan across that barrier, clipped Ms. Elphinstone's front wheel and sped away.

The lane where a driver steered into Trish Elphinstone's wheel.  Google image.

The encounter left her with swelling on her shoulders and knees, in addition to a "face matted with blood" as a result of a cut above her eyebrow.  Needless to say, she spent the rest of the afternoon in an emergency room rather than the meeting she was riding to.

She admits that it's "ironic" that the meeting she missed was about road safety.  You see, just last month, she was elected from the Labour Party to represent Rose Hill and Littlemore in the Oxfordshire City Council.  She narrowly defeated Michael Anthony Evans, an Independent politician whose platform included staunch opposition to Low Traffic Neighbourhoods and traffic-calming schemes, which he described as a "blunt instrument that divides neighborhoods."  

One might assume that he opposes bike lanes and anything else that might encourage people to cycle for transportation, or at least get out of their cars.

I'm not saying a conspiracy was involved when that car clipped Trish Elphinstone's front wheel--and kept her from a meeting on traffic safety.  But...

Me, Dad, Ian, Rita, Maureen And Delilah

The other day I took a ride to the ocean. 

And I took another yesterday.

From those images, you probably can tell that I'm not talking about the Rockaways, Point Lookout or Coney Island, my most common sea-bound treks.

For that matter, I don't mean the Jersey Shore, where I haven't gone in some time.  Rather, for the past two days, I've done two other seaside rides I've mentioned--though, again, not for some time--on this blog.

I arrived in Florida on Friday evening.  The purpose of this trip is a visit with my father, whom I hadn't seen in three years, since my mother's funeral.  We'd planned another visit but, like so many other plans by so many other people, it was put on hold when "COVID happened."  

Since arriving, I've had nearly perfect weather for cycling and, of course, have taken advantage of it.  The bike I rode during previous visits--a balloon-tired beach cruiser--got rusty and dusty. My father, thinking the bike was beyond redemption (it just looks that way) went and bought another bike--a cheapo full-suspension bike--from a friend.  I rode it on Saturday, along the Lehigh Trail, over the bridge in the first photo and up Route A1A through Beverly Beach and Painters Hill.

Along the stretch from Flagler Beach to Beverly Beach, I was looking at some of what Hurricane Ian wrought.  While the damage wasn't nearly as widespread as what befell Sanibel Island or Fort Myers, there were piles of debris on roadsides, testaments to damaged or destroyed buildings and trees. As I looked at one of those ruins, a car door opened.  Just when I thought I was about to be "doored" again, a woman emerged from the half-opened portal and said, "You write a bike blog!"

Nothing like being famous, eh?

Actually, she is someone I met during a previous visit, about seven years ago.  I'd stopped at a gas station-convenience store for a cup of coffee or to use the bathroom--possibly both--when Rita broke me out, for a moment, from my stereotypical New York "don't talk to strangers" mode. (If I recall correctly, I had just arrived the night before.) We stayed in touch for a time but I think her number was part of the data that didn't transfer from my old to new phone, in spite of the salesperson's promise that everything, including a bunch of photos, would make the journey.

I didn't experience a near-catastrophe-turned-happy-coincidence the following day, when I pedaled up to the Castillo San Marcos in Saint Augustine--49 kilometers, or 30.5 miles--into a gusty wind, on the rusty and dusty balloon-tired beach cruiser.  Upon arriving, I wended through the shops and houses of the historic old town before enjoying a picnic lunch on the waterfront promenade and riding back--with that same wind, of course. So, I reckon that I at least rode a metric century on that rusty beach cruiser, though that was not the point of this trip.

After that ride, I showered, got dressed and went out to Mezzaluna for a delightful meal of mussels in a sauce of butter, garlic and lemon with even more delightful company, which included my father and his friend Maureen, a retired Canadian nurse.  She, as it turns out, was something of an avid cyclist and hiker before, as she said, "arthritis found me."  Afterward, we went to her house, filled with her plants and handicrafts, photos and paintings by friends and her late sister, all against backdrops of walls and alcoves painted in very Floridian shades of blue, green and yellow, and "guarded" by my newest friend--Delilah, her cat.

So now there are two Delilahs--well, a Delila and a Dee-Lilah, on this blog. Both are synonymous with delight, even if one is furry and black and white, while the other is lilac-colored and probably would have loved the ride I took today.

So why did I come to the Sunshine State this weekend?  Well, today is Columbus Day, Italian American Pride Day or Indigenous People's Day. (I prefer the latter because, not in spite of the fact that, I'm of Italian heritage: Why should our "pride" day be in honor of a guy who got lost?)  That meant a long weekend and, while some people traveled--There were quite a few out of state plates along A1A and foreign languages spoken at St.Augustine--it isn't nearly as hectic or expensive as traveling at, say, Thanksgiving or the Christmas-New Year season.  Plus, I didn't want the focus of my visit to be a holiday. Rather, I wanted to see Dad again, and because I wondered what it would be like to meet him without Mom or other family members.

I met him into a new phase of his journey--and, I suspect, mine, as I took familiar rides for the first time in a long time.

 

Happy Ramadan, Passover, Good Friday—And Jackie Robinson Day

 Today I am invoking the Howard Cosell Rule. Today’s post, therefore, will not relate to my rides or bikes, and may not be connected to much else in the cycling world.  But what I’m about to mention is just too important to ignore. 

The athlete I’m about to mention has something in common with Simone Biles, Colin Kaepernick, Billie Jean King, Muhammad Ali and “Major Taylor.  Like them, he was a pioneer, not only in his sport, but in the struggle to be recognized and understood as full-fledged human beings.  In other words, they (have) had as much impact away from the field, court or track as they had on it.

On this date 75 years ago, a second baseman took his position at Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field.  At 28 years old, he was older than most rookies. But that wasn’t because he was a “late bloomer.” Rather, his debut in Major League Baseball was delayed by his World War II military service, where he experienced the very thing that kept him from playing for the Dodgers earlier than he did.

When he was drafted into the Army, he applied for Officers’ Candidate School, for which he was qualified.  His application was delayed for several months.  When he was finally accepted, he led soldiers who, like him, were racially segregated from other soldiers as they fought for the freedom of people in faraway countries.

What this man had in common with the other athletes I mentioned, with the exception of Billie Jean King, is that he was Black.  So, upon returning to the United States, he played a year for the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro Leagues and another for the Montréal Royals, the Brooklyn Dodgers’ top minor-league team.

When Jackie Robinson took to the field for the Brooklyn Dodgers on 15 April 1947, he was the first known Black major-league player* since Moses Fleetwood Walker in 1884.  Robinson’s debut also came half a century after “Major” Taylor, the record-setting cyclist, became the first Black world champion in any sport. 

Consider this:  When Robinson played his first game as a Dodger, the United States armed forces had yet to integrate.  Yes, you read that right:  Black soldiers could still be sent to fight for freedoms they couldn’t enjoy themselves.  And, a year later, Strom Thurmond would run for President on a platform of “Segregation Forever!”

All right, this post does relate to cycling in at least one way:  In spite of his accomplishments on and off the field, Jackie Robinson, like Taylor before him, had to endure insults, indignities and even death threats. And, in a sort of parallel, Robinson had to go to other leagues, as Taylor had to go to other countries , for professional opportunities commensurate with their talents and work ethic.

So, if Jackie Robinson doesn’t deserve a mention on this or any other forum, I don’t know who does.

*—For all of the respect I have for Jackie Robinson, I am willing to entertain the notion that he wasn’t the first Black major league player since Walker.  It’s entirely possible that some Black player who “passed” as White—including, it’s been rumored, Babe Ruth—could have played in the major leagues.  

A Journey In Memory

Here in the USA, it's Memorial Day.  The temperature hasn't exceeded 10C (50F) since Friday and rain has fallen nearly continuously--sometimes in torrents, other times in a drizzle.  The rain could stop and clouds could break by this afternoon, so some of the festivities associated with this holiday--nearly all of which were cancelled last year, when we were in the thick of the pandemic--might be staged.  So might the some of the barbeques and family gatherings postponed last year.

Photo by Rachel Smook.  From Massbike.

What I hope is that the people who weren't mourned, wheether they died in uniform or on a ventilator, will get the remembrances they deserve.  While this day is intended as a remembrance of those who died while serving in the military, I think it's fitting to recall those (including seven people I knew) who perished as a result of a pandemic that has killed more people in this country than all of the armed conflicts in which we've been involved since World War I.

The Tour of Somerville was one of many Memorial Day events cancelled last year.  This year, it's been moved to Labor Day (6 September).  I think the race organizers chose that date because here in the US, Labor Day is seen as the unofficial end of summer, just as Memorial Day is seen as its beginning.  The only other race cancellations came during World War II, which claimed the lives of its first two winners.

It just so happens that this Memorial Day is the 100th anniversary of the Tulsa Massacre, which I mentioned last week.  On 31 May 2021, white mobs descended on Greenwood, the Tulsa community dubbed "The Black Wall Street."  The city's police chief deputized hundreds of white citizens to join those mobs and commandeered gun shops to arm them.  The following day, the Greenwood district was wiped off the face of the earth.  It's estimated that 300 people died, but the true number may never be known.

However we choose to spend this day--I plan to take a bike ride later--it is intended as a memorial.   I try to remember that.

 

Their Sales Came On Two Wheels

Five years ago, I wrote about "Bicycle Day."

During the first "bicycle boom," bicycle makers debuted their new models on what was then called Presidents' Day. At that time--the last two decades of the 19th Century and the first of the 20th-- the holiday was observed on George Washington's Birthday, 22 February.  Later, Lincoln's Birthday (12 February) would be observed and, finally, during the 1970s, the two fetes would be merged into Presidents' Day, observed on the third Monday in February.

"Bicycle Day" was a big deal in the days before motorcycles and automobiles because it was the first mode of transportation that was potentially faster--and lower-maintenance--than horses or horse-drawn carriages.  The bicycle also remains, to this day, the only amplifier of human energy, meaning that it's the only known device that can take the energy a person would expend to walk or run and turn it into a faster form of forward motion without any other input.

Bill Clinton, riding indoors

Just as the bicycle has been called, with good reason, as the "parent of the automobile and grandparent of the airplane," Bicycle Day can be seen as the forerunner of other retail traditions.  As motorcycles and, later, automobiles became the "main event" of American capitalism, companies debuted their new motorcycle and car models on Washington's Birthday and, later, Presidents' Day--and dealerships held sales and other events to mark these events.  

Some car and motorcycle dealerships continue the custom to this day. More common, however, are the myriad of Presidents' Sales, on everything from lingerie to Legos, in brick-and-mortar stores as well as online retailers.  In some circles, Presidents' Day has come to be known as the "second Black Friday" or "second Cyber Monday," as store owners and website managers stoke their "bottom lines" after the lull that follows the Christmas-season rush.

Ronald Reagan with first wife Jane Wyman, presumably during their Hollywood years.  When was the last time you saw someone smoking a pipe while riding a bike?

Whether or not they are aware of it, those businesspeople are carrying on a tradition brought to them on two wheels, via Bicycle Day.

(Photos are from The Bicycle Story.)

A Black Bike On Friday?

If I were to buy a folding or collapsible bike, there are two I would consider:  Brompton and Bike Friday.

 BF is holding a special sale for today, Black Friday.  They boast that they offer "2 colors of black."

I have a question:  If one were to order a bike in either shade, would he/she/they have a black Bike Friday?  Or a Bike Black Friday?

Just askin'.

What Boxing Day Delivers

There are some English customs and holidays that have endured in every current or former crown colony--except for the US.

One of those holidays Boxing Day.  Today's the day.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the Anglophone world outside the US, this isn't a day when people watch, or get into, fights. (Lots of people do that on Christmas Day itself, especially after copious quantities of, ahem, eggnog were consumed.) 

Actually, this holiday had its origins with servants and others who had to work on Christmas Day. Their masters or employers gave them the following day off and sent them off with Christmas boxes for themselves and their families.  So, the families of many maids, butlers, cooks and the like had their "Christmas dinner" on this date.

These days, it seems to have taken on an identity like that of Black Friday--the day after Thanksgiving--in the US.  People take advantage of the sales in big-city department stores as well as smaller, family-run operations.

But, at least in the UK, it also seems to be a popular day for bike rides of all types.  A quick Google search revealed everything from lunch rides for families to spirited club rides--and even a cyclo-cross race or two.

Hearing the term "Boxing Day ride" might conjure up an image like this:

I can imagine that rider being one of those servants or other helpers who just got the day off.  And the recipient of one of those boxes just might be this young man:

out on a family ride, of course!

Black Friday Bicycle Haiku?

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that one of my passions is for poetry.  I love it as much as I love cycling.  Well, maybe I love them equally.

(Does that sound like what we say about our "significant others"?  I love you even more than my bike...he said with crossed fingers.)

Anyway, I've been reading and writing poetry for a long time.  One thing I haven't done in a long time, though, is to write a  haiku.  In fact, I'm certain that I've never written one:  I mimicked the structure, but did not capture the essence of, the iconic Japanese mode.

That doesn't mean, though, that I'll try to stop others from doing the 17syllable/3 lines thing, even if it's in the service of capitalism--or the bike business, anyway: 

On the YouTube page for this video, Clever Cycles, the company that posted it, invited viewers to ponder this eternal question: "Who says poetry doesn't pay?"

Hmm...Maybe I should start writing Black Friday haiku, even if it seems almost oxymoronic.

Happy Black Friday...hmm, that seems pretty oxymoronic, too!

I Ride My Bike To Release Stress. Really!

Tomorrow I will be thankful for at least one thing:  I didn't have to travel, at least not long-distance, today.  I still commuted, but at least I didn't have to navigate crowded airports or rail terminals.

For the most part, my commute is pretty stress-free, as much of it takes me through Randalls Island.  There are a couple of traffic "hot zones" near the entrance to the RFK-Triborough Bridge and where I cross Bruckner Boulevard, underneath the elevated "express"way.  (I use the quotation marks because I will not call a roadway "express" if the traffic is as likely as not to be at a standstill!)  Those places were more chaotic than usual and, aside from Randalls Island, I saw more traffic--and more Stupid Driver and Stupid Pedestrian Tricks just about everywhere.

So, I could say that my commute today was more stressful than it usually is.  Still, I suppose it's less stressful than being stuck in traffic, and I know it's less stressful than being on a packed subway train.  Even so, I'd say that this morning's commute was one of the more stressful ones I've experienced.  I probably will say the same about my commute home.

Jon Orcutt, a longtime advocate for cycling and urban mobility in general, tweeted about a stressful ride he took.  It didn't take him by the Port Authority Bus Terminal or Penn Station. (When I was a wee thing, I thought the Lord's Prayer pleaded, "And lead us not into Penn Station..") Instead, it led him across Manhattan:

My first run on the West 13th St protected #BikeNYC lane. All in all a pretty classic NYC bike lane experience pic.twitter.com/aXvpRxAfgm

— Jon Orcutt (@jonorcutt) November 20, 2018

Yes, he was on a brand-new "protected" bike lane on the side of 13th Street.  I have experienced things in "protected" bike lanes:  In fact, I had to dodge two trucks pulling in and out of factories, parents dropping off their kids in a pre-school and some impatient driver who thought the Willow Avenue bike path was a passing lane--never mind that it's lined with stanchions:

and that's just in five blocks, from 133rd to 138th Street.  Then, at 138th, I had to turn and make that crossing of Bruckner.

Oh well.  I guess I still got to work less stressed-out than most other commuters--and certainly less stressed-out than anyone who's flying, taking long-distance trains or buses, or driving so they can sit tomorrow with their families and stuff themselves with stuffed turkey and a whole bunch of other stuff.  Then they'll stress themselves over the weight they've gained--and, possibly, about whether they'll get any great bargains on "Black Friday".

Biking While Black

I read Huey Newton's Revolutionary Suicide many years ago.  As I recall, it recounts, among other things, his and his peers' often-tense interactions with the police of his native Oakland.  Many of the incidents would today be called Driving (or Walking, Barbecuing, Reading or Fill-in-the-Activity of Your Choice) While Black.

Frustration over such incidents inspired him and his friends to start the Black Panther Party.   Whether or not you agree with his way of dealing with the poverty, racism and violence that defined life on the mean streets where he grew up, it's hard to argue against his observations and analysis.  After all, so much of what he described could have happened yesterday.

As a matter of fact, it did--or, two weeks ago, anyway.  On 3 August, Najari "Naj" Smith was leading a group of 40 young cyclists through the streets of Oakland on a regularly-scheduled First Friday ride.  You guessed it:  He and most of those cyclists are black.  

They all belong to organizations that consist mainly of African-American members.  One of those organizations, Rich City Rides, was founded and is led by "Naj" himself in the nearby city of Richmond.  RCR teaches young people bicycle mechanics and gives them opportunities to work for their own bicycles.  It also offers guidance on healthy lifestyles and positive social interactions through group rides, public path maintenance and civic advocacy on transportation issues.  

It should be noted here that Richmond today, in many ways, parallels the Oakland of Huey Newton:  It is darker (in skin tone) and poorer than surrounding Bay Area communities.  It also, until recently, had one of the highest violent crime rates in the nation, and many residents feel they are always "under suspicion" by the police.  Oakland, on the other hand, is quickly gentrifying as even well-paid professionals find themselves priced out of San Francisco and other communities on the west side of the Bay.  This has exacerbated tensions between the remaining African-Americans and the Oakland Police Department (which disproportionately stops and arrests African-Americans) not to mention the white gentrifiers who too often call the police when black people simply live their lives in public.

Najari "Naj" Smith

Such was the case two weeks ago, when someone apparently complained about Naj and the other riders when they formed a "bonding and healing circle".  A police officer broke into it without warning and grabbed Naj's handlebars.  

The officer explained that Naj was being detained for "excessive noise" coming from a stereo on a trailer behind his bike.  Smith says he immediately complied with the officer's request and turned off the stereo.  The officer told him to "stay put" and momentarily walked away.  Smith thought the officer was going to write him a citation.  Instead, the cop handcuffed him, confiscated his bicycle and stereo equipment and whisked him off to the Santa Rita Jail, where he spent the weekend.   Smith made his $5000 bail and has  a court date for the 31st of this month.


"I cooperated with the officer as much as possible," Smith said. Members of the group were upset and he was "trying to put the best example forward" so the incident "wouldn't turn into a mess."

It seems, though, that no amount of compliance is any match for police officers who make up the rules as they go along.  According to Oakland PD spokesperson Felicia Aisthorpe, Smith was detained for "interfering with traffic and playing music too loudly."  Moreover, she said, he did not have proper identification. (Italics mine.)

The officer who stopped me in Harrison two years ago was looking to make the same charge against me.  As it happened, I had my New York State non-drivers' ID with me.  He tried to claim that he could arrest me for not having "official" ID; I countered that the document was issued by the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles and is therefore official.  He wasn't too pleased with that; so he wrote a citation with the largest fine he could get away with.  

Since then, I've checked with a number of reputable sources, all of whom confirmed what I'd already known:  that there is no law in New York State (Harrison is in Westchester County) or anywhere in the US that requires people to carry ID or to show it to police officers. But I carry mine with me anyway for situations like the one I've described.

Whether or not "Naj" Smith had his ID on him or needed it probably isn't the real issue, as far as Ms. Aisthorpe and the arresting officer are concerned.  He is from Richmond and he was in Oakland, cycling while black.  

My Annual Black Friday Rant

As if we don't have enough orgies of consumerism!

Now, I am not going to get all self-righteous on you for not participating in the one that took place today.  I am referring to this thing we have here in the US called Black Friday.  


This day is premised on this notion:  Consumito ergo sum.  Or Shopito ergo sum.  Which would Rene Descartes find more appalling:  This spectre of gluttony--or my Latin?

It seems that BF became an "event" or a de facto holiday just before "reality TV" and "selfies" came along.  Somehow I think that BF is the prototype of both:  It's one of those things people do to say they are:  they are part of this time, this place, this culture.  It's like leaving an "I was here" graffito, and is just as ephemeral:  The moment that credit card transaction is approved and the flat-screen TV or whatever is brought home, the moment, the fact of having been there, means nothing.  

A Black Friday "bargain....

I guess none of this should surprise me when I recall that all of those so-called journalists are really nothing more than cheerleaders for one grotesquerie or another:  an invasion, bad behavior by a celebrity or an "election" in which people vote--if indeed they vote--for one candidate only because they have fueled with enough hate, or simply disdain, for the other candidate.

Of course, I don't mean to blame what Black Friday has become on journalists, any more than I blame them for wars, natural disasters or even Kanye West and Kim Kardashian.  They--most of them, anyway--are products of the same culture that gives us Kanyashian and selfies and Black Friday.  Therefore, they have learned to do nothing more and nothing less than what others have learned:  You validate yourself (or at least feel that you're doing so) by promoting yourself, buying stuff or getting other people to buy stuff. 

...and another

And that stuff almost never includes quality bicycles.  Or, if it does, they are buying a brand because they heard somewhere that it's the "best" brand--or it simply happens to be en vogue.  Almost any bicycle purchased on Black Friday comes from a "big box" store, will be under a Christmas tree in four weeks and in a landfill in four years, if not four months.  The excitement of having gotten a "great deal" on it will have long passed.

When This Day Was Bicycle Day

Here in the US, most holidays have long since lost whatever meaning they had and have become, instead, occasions for orgies of consumerism.

Perhaps the most prominent example is Thanksgiving.  For decades, the day after, dubbed "Black Friday", has been an occasion for sales that mark the beginning of the Christmas shopping season.  In recent years, however, large department stores have been opening--and holding their sales--on Thanksgiving Day itself.  

This day--Presidents' Day--is no different.  While other holidays feature other kinds of bargain bonanzas (e.g., spring clothing and bedding on Memorial Day), this holiday is seen as the beginning of the automobile-buying season, and dealerships offer deals to entice consumers into buying new cars outright or trading in the ones they already have.

How did presidents come to be associated with cars? (Well, Ford Motor Company does have a line called Lincoln!)  To answer that question, we have to look at the origins of this holiday.  During my childhood, schools were closed on the 12th and 22nd of February, in honor of Abraham Lincoln's and George Washington's birthdays, respectively.  In 1971, Congress passed the Uniform Holidays Act, which moved the dates of certain festivities to Mondays.  At that time, Lincoln's and Washington's days were combined into one holiday, which falls on the third Monday of February.

Before the merger, if you will, auto sales were held on Washington's Birthday, which was seen as the beginning of the auto-buying season.  That tradition dates to the early twentieth century, when automobiles first began to shape the landscape and culture of this nation.  It has, however, roots in yet another kind of sale held on the same date.

If you've been reading this blog, you know that the bicycle is, in essence, the predecessor of the automobile.  Some of the early auto manufacturers and designers had been in the bike business, much as the Wright Brothers were at the time they made their flight.  So, it should come as no surprise that bicycle-buying (and, in some locales, -riding and -racing) season began on the 22nd of February.  Bicycle dealers usually debuted or featured new models on that date and offered special deals.  Many also had parties and even held or sponsored races, even in such locales as Boston which were as likely as not to have snow on their streets at that time of year.

From Green Fleet Messengers

As an article on the Atlantic Monthly website relates, some people were not happy that "crass commercialism" sullied the occasion of the birth of our first President.  Some of them pointed out, rightly, that there really was no reason to associate two-wheelers with "The Father of Our Country" because it's unlikely that he rode anything resembling a bicycle.  My guess is that the date was chosen because it's near the end of February and Spring is so close that people can practically taste it, if you'll indulge me in a cliche.  And, to be fair, there are parts of the US where the weather is already spring-like by that time.  

By the turn of the century, bicycles were becoming less popular as the motorcycle and, later, automobiles, seized e public's consciousness.  As bicycles are again becoming more popular, wouldn't it be interesting if the old tradition of bicycle sales was revived for Presidents' Day?

Thanksgiving Post-Prandial

I am sure that the ride I took yesterday didn't burn off nearly as many calories as I consumed during Thanksgiving dinner.   I suppose most people could say that the bike ride, walk, run, swim, skate or whatever they took (if, indeed, they took any of those) after their holiday repasts could say  .the same.  

Anyway, yesterday was a lovely day all the way around, from the beginning.  As I left to go to my friends' place, I was greeted by this:

The window is in a building two doors down from where I live.  I had seen the cat once before; if I do say so myself, she knows she's looking at a friend when she sees me.  Were there not a screen (as there was yesterday) or windowpane between us, I'd be stroking and possibly feeding her.  I'm sure she knows that.

What's striking about that cat is that her body is white and she has patches of colors on her head and rear--a reversal of what one normally sees. (Both of my cats have colorful bodies and patches of white.)  One of these days, I'll ask her human how he or she found her.

After spending the afternoon with food and friends (possibly in that order), I snuck out for a ride before dessert.  I tried to capture, on my cell phone, a tree in near-perfect late-fall sunset hue arched over a street.  What I got instead was the beginning of the sunset.  Oh well.

From there, I rambled over to the Worlds' Fair Marina prominade, which rims Flushing Bay from LaGuardia Airport to the Flushing Bridge, a span that provides some of the most necropolitic vistas in this city. Just east of the airport, I chanced upon this schizophrenic scene:

Then I went back for dessert, which added even more calories than I burned off.  But, hey, it was Thanksgiving.  And the food and company were great.

After that, I rode to visit a friend and co-worker in the hospital.  He's in a coronary care unit, where eating isn't allowed, so I couldn't bring any of the food I'd shared with my friends.  It was sad, but it showed me a few things for which I'm thankful. 

P.S. No Black Friday for me!

Getting Away From The Second Black Friday

Some people referred to yesterday as a "second Black Friday."  Yesterday was the day after Christmas and BF is the day after Thanksgiving.  So, people went shopping--or, more precisely, pushed and shoved each other to get bargains they believed to be awaiting them.  

Of course, there were some differences.  The Black Friday phenomenon is repeated every year, while Round Two, if you will, is possible only every few years, when the day after Christmas happens to fall on a Friday.  Also, the post-Christmas shopping frenzy is fueled, in part, by people who are returning or exchanging gifts and are enticed to shop for other things.

One thing both days have in common is that, on both, I avoid the retail ruckus (which has been known to plunge into full-blown riots) that has become part of them.  Instead, I choose calmer and more meditative activities, like tea with a friend, reading and writing, playing with my feline family or, of course, a bike ride.

Today's spin took me down to Rockaway Beach.  Even though cirrus clouds swirled the clear sky and light winds blew mild air in the directions of waves that lapped lazily against the sand, only a few people found their way to the beach.  I suspect they are of a similar mindset to mine:  Although I did not converse with any of them, some of us exchanged smiles and glances that told me everything.  And,  yes, we wished each other a happy holiday.

Boxing Day And Big Box Stores

Today, the day after Christmas, is known as Boxing Day throughout the English-speaking world--except, of course, in the United States.  Here, after our so-called War of Independence, we decided to toss out everything British.  But somehow or another we managed to keep the class system, although we did away with the titles.

All right, enough political ranting.  I mention this holiday because I recall how, the first time I heard about it, I wondered whether people went to see fights or, perhaps, whether they fought each other.  (I'll bet some people fight, especially spouses and other family members, after something or another that didn't go as planned on Christmas Day!)  Perhaps South African officials realized other people thought as I did when, in that country, the holiday was re-named  Day of Goodwill in 1994.

 


In other countries, particularly England, Canada and Australia, stores offer huge discounts because most people wouldn't enter a store otherwise--unless, of course, they are exchanging gifts.  Our stores do the same, but they're simply called "Day-After-Christmas sales".

It seems that those big retail events are as much a part of small mom-and-pop stores as of "big box" outlets.  And they're part of just about every sector of the retail industry, with a few notable exceptions.

One of those exceptions is, of course, the bicycle retail industry.  The "big box" stores might offer big discounts on bikes purchased in boxes, but even those price reductions usually aren't as great as those for, say, bed linens or kitchenware, let alone Christmas decorations, gift wrapping and cards.  And small bike shops might offer relatively small discounts--say, 10 or 20 percent, in contrast to the 50-75 percent reductions typical for holiday-related items--on bicycles or even high-quality components.  Sometimes prices are slashed on bike accessories, such as computers, but the selection tends to be small.

 

When I worked in bike shops, people used to ask me why they couldn't find the sorts of sales they were accustomed to seeing on items like luggage and home electronics in bike shops.  The not-so-short answer goes something like this:  Profit margins on bicycles are fairly small.  Paradoxically, high-end bikes actually have even smaller margins than those on bikes sold to the masses.  

One reason for that is that the more you buy of something, the better a price you can get on each unit--and a bike shop simply cannot buy in the volume in which departments stores make their purchases.  In fact, even some mom-and-pop stores buy their wares in greater quantities than most shops will buy of any given model of bike.  The obvious reason is, of course, that bikes take up more space than most other items sold in most other kinds of stores.   

But even on components, few shops make mass purchases of, say, Campagnolo Record Ergo shifters or Dura-Ace cranksets.  That is because the market for such items is still small, and because those companies, and others, change their offerings more frequently than in times past (I still remember when Campagnolo and other European manufacturers made, essentially, the same derailleur or brake or other item for decades!), a shop might be stuck with a high-end item for years, or even for the life of the shop itself.  While such items might make for nice showcase displays, they don't add to the store's bottom line. 

If you do see large day-after-Christmas--or Boxing Day-- discounts on bikes or parts, you're most likely shopping online.  Companies like Performance and Chain Reaction Cycles buy in far greater quantities than any local shop ever could and therefore get better prices, which allows them to offer lower prices to customers.  In fact, an industry insider once told me that Performance actually buys whole boatloads of Shimano components and has them trucked directly to their giant warehouse.

Anyway--I avoid shopping for anything on the Boxing Day, St. Stephen Day, the Day of the Wren, the first day of Kwaanza or whatever you call 26 December, just as I avoid it on Black Friday.