Ghost Ride

 As I ride around New York City, I sometimes see “ghosts.”

Now, before you assume that I’m going insane, I am—at least in the opinion of some people—already there. Seriously, though, among the “ghosts” I see are buildings that are vacant or being used for entirely different purposes than the ones for which they were intended.

Also, there are what Esther Crain, the author of Ephemeral New York (one of my favorite blogs) calls “ghost” signs.  They usually were painted on the sides of buildings to advertise some business or another.  As often as not, that establishment is long gone. I found an exception just a few blocks from my new apartment:

Tierney Auto Body works is still in the same location but the sign has to be at least 40 years old:  The lower part of the sign (not visible in the photo) gives the telephone number—without an area code. Until 1984, all five boroughs of New York City were covered by the 212 Area Code.  But as fax machines and, later, cell phones become more common, the 212 area code was running out of phone numbers and new area codes were added. It then became necessary to dial an area code when calling within New York City.

While riding the other day, I discovered another “ghost” sign that dates from around the same time, or earlier:

Prospect Hospital, its name barely visible at the top of the sign, closed in 1985. That sign, like the one for Tierney, gives a phone number without an area code.

Another thing I found interesting is the sign’s proclamation that “alcoholism is a treatable disease.” Although researchers and doctors had been saying as much since the 1930s (when, incidentally, Alcoholics Anonymous was founded) that idea started to displace, in public perception, the old notion that alcoholism is a moral failing during the 1960s.

Speaking of the 1960s:  By that time, artists and intellectuals who were associated with the later part of the Harlem Renaissance had moved to East Elmhurst and Jamaica in Queens or (as in the case of John Coltrane) to Long Island. But during the Renaissance, theaters for movies, plays, vaudeville and other kinds of shows and exhibits flourished in Harlem. The “ghost” of one “shadows” a building that now serves as a church on 145th Street:

So, if nothing else, my bike trips show that you don’t have to be Demi Moore, Patrick Swayze or Whoopi Goldberg to see “ghosts” during your ride!

He Had To Watch A Cyclist

As the majority of Americans support equality for LGBTQ people, women, members of racial and ethnic "minorities," the disabled and others who have been marginalized, those on the other side--who see rights they've always enjoyed as "special privileges" when extended to members of the groups of people I've mentioned--become more virulent, vicious and even violent in expressing anger at having to share their privilege.

Among the empowered are motorists who think the roads are theirs, and theirs alone.  They accuse us--cyclists, pedestrians and users of mass transportation--as being subsidized by tax dollars (which, too often, the privileged don't even pay).   Some among them think they have a "right" to express their umbrage in whatever way they choose--even if it endangers or kills the objects of their rage.

While I still interact, thankfully, with many courteous drivers--especially those who drive trucks--I have also had more charged interactions with aggressive drivers than I can recall in some time.  On the return leg of a ride to Connecticut, just as I was crossing the state line at Glenville and King Streets, some guy who looked like his wife hadn't given him any since Obama's first term pulled up alongside me, in his pickup truck, just so he could shout "Fuck you!" 

While the temperature has risen, so to speak, since Trump first ran for President, I can't put all of the blame on him (as tempting as that may be).  Rather, I've noticed that some celebrities--mostly male, all of them privileged by their wealth and fame-- expressing veiled and not-so-veiled hostility toward those who aren't "the cool kids" in their eyes.  A while back, Whoopi Goldberg whined, on The View, about the chauffered drive to her gated community being slowed down by, oh, 7 seconds or so, by a cyclist.  Now it seems that "comedian" Paul Costabile, who seems to sneer with the smugness of a bully who knows that nobody will fight him, took a video of himself taunting a cyclist who was riding as far to the right as he could.

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A post shared by 🇵🇭Dino /deee•no/ not /dy•no/ (@_deeeno)

The worst part, though, is that Costabile is taking the video while driving.  Now, unless he's employing some trick of which I'm not aware, he's leaning as he's driving with one hand.  So, he's endangering the cyclist even more than he would have had he simply shouted slurs and curses out his window.

In the meantime, Costablile whined about having to watch that rider "work his glutes."  Sounds to me like he's insecure:  He looks like he can use some time with his feet on two pedals rather one foot on one pedal.  

That, of course, is what causes the privileged to pick on those who've just won the same rights they've always enjoyed:  It's scary for those who've enjoyed power and privilege to realize that other people could actually challenge their place in the social, political and economic heirarchy.  We, as cyclists, do that by our presence:  It shows motorists that the roads don't "belong" only to them.

Note:  The video in this post was deleted from Instagram.  However, I was able to post it thanks to a screengrab by @_deeno.

Blame The (Phantom) Bike Lanes!

Every one of us, I suspect, has had a moment when we realized that someone we looked up to was just plain wrong about something.  

Most of us, I guess, have such a moment in childhood.  That person who suddenly became, as it were, mortal might be a parent, older sibling, teacher, coach or other adult who nurtured us in some way.  Such a moment might have seemed like "the end of the world," at least for a moment, and left us feeling angry, hurt, abandoned or empty.  Fortunately, though, most of us move on from such an experience and learn the lesson that "nobody's perfect."

Good thing, too, because as we go through life, people we respect or admire have moments of stupidity, arrogance, greed, meanness or thoughtlessness.  We learn that our heroes--if we still create such figures in our lives--are, after all, human.

For many years, I've been a major fan of Whoopi Goldberg.  In fact, when I was still watching TV and had a schedule that allowed it, I watched The View mainly because she was one of the panelists.  She is a funny, irreverent woman who always seemed to resist pressures from society and the entertainment industry (where, perhaps, such pressures are the most intense) to conform to prevailing notions about attractiveness or femininity--which, of course, are Caucaso-centric. (Is that a word?)  Also, she has been an outspoken advocate for causes, like LGBT equality, that matter to me.

Of course, one can be outspoken about things one doesn't know much about. I've probably done it any number of times on this blog! If I have, I hope I haven't caused harm, or at least not much of it.  I'd like to think that I expounded on things I know little or nothing about only because I didn't know as much about them as I thought I knew--or because I was acting on information I didn't realize was inaccurate.

I hope that such is the case for Whoopi Goldberg.  I am willing to believe that it is because, well, I've always liked her.  Also, I think she probably doesn't ride a bike much in Manhattan, if she rides at all.

You see, anyone who regularly cycles in Manhattan knows where the bike lanes are.  Mainly, they're in midtown, and parallel major uptown-downtown and crosstown thoroughfares.

While Tenth Avenue runs the length of midtown, on its west side, it's not one of the streets with a bike lane.  She could be forgiven for not knowing that.  On the other hand, she blamed the non-existent bike lane for "ruining" the avenue and traffic flow in the city.  



 

  Oh, but it didn't end there.  She went as far as to say that the bike lanes are part of a conspiracy to bring Manhattan traffic to a standstill so that the Mayor can implement "congestion pricing"--which, of course, would take a bite out of her bank account as well as her "right" to drive--or, more precisely, be driven--in Manhattan.

What's really crazy about her rant is that it was a non sequitir. She was interviewing Mayor Bill de Blasio about something else entirely.  I guess she figured that since she had him in her crosshairs, she could unleash her pet peeve--however unfounded it is--on him.

Here's something I find really ironic:  She, among celebrities, has been one of the most outspoken critics of El Cheeto Grande.  Yet she behaved no differently than he has in any number of public appearances:  She told a lie or repeated misinformation (depending on what you believe) and doubled down on it.  Her tirade, like most of what we hear from T-rump, is devoid of facts and fueled by a sentiment of "If I feel it, it must be true."

Then again, she does have a few things in common with him:  They are, or have been, television stars.  They live in mansions and are driven in limousines or armored SUVs everywhere they go.  And they haven't ridden bicycles since they were kids.