Today is Veterans’ Day here in the US.
I can remember when it was called Armistice Day, after the treaty that ended World War I, a.k.a. “The War to End All Wars.”
I wonder how many soldiers, sailors, marines, airmen/women and other military personnel go into battle hoping that their battle, their war will be the last. I think that’s what I would hope. “Hey, let’s not do this shit again, OK?”
And then swords would be beaten into ploughshares—and mortar into bicycle parts.
Orange Crush (i.e., the election) left me crushed. People who know me could see it; some of them, I am sure, felt the same way. One of our building’s managers, however, said, “It’s gonna be OK.” I wonder whether he believes it.
Since Tuesday night’s testament to treachery, I have taught three classes: one last night and two on Wednesday. I barely heard a peep from the first group. Were they merely stunned, or did they feel resigned. Since most of them are of traditional college age (18-19 years old), I hope it’s not the latter.
The second class is smaller: 7 students. As you can imagine, it’s easier to get everyone to participate. At least, on a normal day it is. But the other day, they seemed as stunned or mentally weary as my first class, save for one student. He, who emigrated as a teenager with his family, became a citizen through US Military service. Interestingly, when we discussed The Trial and Death of Socrates, he was as zealous as anyone I’ve met in his defense, if you will, of the peripatetic philosopher: “He thought for himself. He questioned authority. That’s what we must do.” Thus, I am not surprised that he lambasted Trump as he did; what surprises me is that anyone who wears, or has worn, the uniform could support a career criminal who called the permanent residents of the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery “losers” and “suckers” after skipping out on a D-Day commemoration .
Last night class, on the other hand, was lively, even feisty. Most of those students come in to class from work, and all of them were upset that Trump won the election. One student mentioned Project 2025 which calls for, among other things, dismantling the Department of Education. Others mentioned their fears about health care, immigration and women’s and LGBT rights. Most interesting or all though, was the participation of one student whom I hadn’t heard before. “This whole country will be like Texas!” she lamented.
That wasn’t an idle statement: She was born and raised in the Lone Star State, “near Dallas.” She has spent time in other parts of the state: Houston, El Paso, Lubbock, San Antonio. The latter is home to The Alamo. “It’s all they talk about,” she said, “as if there’s no other history.”
I interjected that I was taught it was a “battle for freedom:” Texans wanted to liberate themselves from the yoke of Mexican oppression and become part of the Land of Liberty. “That’s what we were taught”—about half a century after I was so indoctrinated—“but we were also taught that it was part of Manifest Destiny, which was part of God’s plan.”
“They actually told you that God wanted the US to take Texas?” She nodded. Never was it mentioned, she explained, that Texans were fighting to keep slavery, which Mexico abolished four decades before the United States.
“We have to do away with American exceptionalism,” she intoned.”
People like her are the reasons for whatever hope we may have. She has obviously taken the time to learn what she wasn’t taught and questions authority and received wisdom. I can only hope that people like her aren’t brought before kangaroo courts on trumped-up (no pun intended) charges and don’t have to suffer his fate.
Nearly a century and a half ago, Baron Haussmann remade Paris. Before he began his work, the City of Light had, like many other old European cities, serpentine, circuitous streets. He replaced them with wider, arrow-straight avenues and boulevards.
He reasoned, correctly, that those new thoroughfares would facilitate commerce.
But city and national officials probably cared more about how they could make it easier for troops to move—and put down protests and rebellions for which Parisians were famous. City residents who incited or participated in such conflicts could evade gendarmes and soldiers, many of whom came from other parts of the country—or different quarters of the city—and were therefore not familiar with the meandering streets.
I mention this history because if you are trying to flee law enforcement or military personnel—whether because you’ve incited a protest for a noble cause or have committed a crime (which I don’t recommend)—on your bicycle, be sure you know the terrain.
It’s too late for a man in Troy, New York. Police in the city, just northeast of Albany, responded to a call about “suspicious activity.” They tried to question a man riding his bike in the area. But instead of stopping, he sped up and tried to evade the cops.
He pedaled down a couple of streets pursued by the patrolmen who flashed their lights and blared their siren. He steered into a backyard where, in the darkness, he tumbled over an embankment and into the Hudson River, where he drowned.
I don’t know whether the man actually committed a crime or simply panicked when the cops approached him. Either way, fleeing wasn’t a good idea—especially if he didn’t know the territory.
Armed conflicts often lead to a form of hyper-vigilance I’ll call “war paranoia.” (There’s probably a clinical term for it.) Everyday people, objects and situations are seen as threats or dangers and met with brutal or deadly force.
Such was the case in Gaza, where an Israeli military strike targeted what was believed to be a rocket propelled grenade launcher.
It was bicycle, and its rider died in one of the most horrifying ways possible.
Today is International Women’s Day.
Whatever your gender identity or your anatomical configuration, if you are a cyclist, you should recognize the importance of women in cycling and, well, the world. For one thing, we are the majority of humanity. For another, there have been many great female cyclists, most of whom have ridden without recognition and support. A few, including Beryl Burton, have even beaten men’s records.
But perhaps the most important reason of all is that anyone who cares about gender equality needs to recognize the role the bicycle has played in the long journey toward that goal. After all, Susan B. Anthony said that the bicycle did more to liberate women than anything else. (That is why oppressive regimes like the Taliban forbid or discourage women and girls from riding them.) Bikes provided, and continue to provide, independent mobility. They also released women from the constraints of corsets and hoop skirts which, I believe, helped to relax dress standards—and thus make cycling easier—for everyone.
Today also happens to be the anniversary of two events that occurred during my lifetime. One is one the greatest aviation mysteries of all time: the disappearance of Malaysia Flight 370 ten years ago. Such an incident would have caused consternation in any time, but have become much rarer over time.
While that tragedy may not seem to have much in common with bicycles or bicycling, the other event is somewhat more related. On this date in 1971,”the fight of the century” took place between Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali. Joe won that bout, but Ali would win two rematches.
To this day, I can’t recall another sporting event-and very few events of any kind-that were preceded by as much anticipation and hype. I’m no boxing expert, but I doubt that there has ever been a title match between two opponents so equally matched in talent and skill but so different in style. Also, Ali had been stripped of his titles—and his boxing licenses—for three years because of his refusal to register for the military draft that could have forced him to serve in the Vietnam War.
So why is “The Fight” worthy of mention on this blog? Well, as I mentioned in a previous post, a boy named Cassius Clay might never have grown up to become Muhammad Ali, “The Greatest,” had his bicycle not been stolen. In recounting his loss to á police sergeant, he vowed to “whup” the thief. The sergeant, who just happened to train boxers on the side, admonished young Clay that he should learn how to fight first.
So..did you ever expect to see Susan B. Anthony and Muhammad Ali mentioned in the same post—much less one that includes Malaysia Airlines Flight 370?
I written about bicycles in the military. Turns out, they’ve been very useful in, among other things, reconnaissance missions.
That got me to wondering whether spies have used bikes in their work.
Turns out (I know, I used that phrase already!), the great minds think alike. Or, at least, I think like my people: Apparently, someone in Italy had the same idea!
It was in Tyrol, which some other Italians argue isn’t really Italy: sono tedeschi. So I’ll go with “great minds!”
He looks like a hippie who became a prep-school Latin teacher. For me, that was his charm.
And it probably helped him to be effective at his job.
Since 1996, he could be seen with a bow tie between the wings of his shirt collar—and a fluorescent bicycle pin on the lapel of his blazer.
Perhaps not surprisingly, he’s been the best friend cyclists have had in the US Congress in, oh, a century or so. In addition to crafting legislation that allocated money for cycling and pedestrian infrastructure, and for making his hometown the “poster child” for livable, sustainable cities—at least among US cities—he helped to expand healthcare coverage through the Affordable Care Act, save over 100,000 restaurants during the COVID and—in something almost un-heard of these days— worked with a member of the opposing party to create a pathway to permanent legal status for Iraqi and Afghan nationals who directly supported US military missions in their countries.
Perhaps it will not surprise you to learn that he has represented Oregon’s 3rd Congressional District—which includes most of Portland. In fact, he has been called “Mr. Portland.”
Earl Blumenauer has just announced that he is not running for re-election next year. I guess it is understandable: Not only has he spent 27 years in Congress; he is 75 years old.
He has not been specific about his “next chapter.” The Democratic legislator said, however, that he plans to continue his work to “make communities more livable, people safer, healthier and more economically secure…without the burden of day-to-day politics.”
Thank you, Earl Blumenauer, for all you’ve done. And I wish you well in whatever comes next.
For my morning ride, I turned from Crescent Street to Broadway and crossed under the elevated train at 31st Street. I found myself in…Ukraine?
That’s what I wondered, at least for a moment. What would it be like to ride down a familiar route and encounter a military vehicle .
Of course, that truck had nothing to do with the Armed Forces. And its driver did nothing to menace me or anyone else. But I had to wonder about the motivation of whoever had that cement mixer truck painted in camouflage colors!
Today is D-Day.
On this date in 1944, Allied forces landed on the beaches of Normandy, France. This daring operation is cited as the door that opened to liberating France and, ultimately, western Europe from Nazi occupation.
The Allies included, among others, American, British and Canadian soldiers, sailors and airmen. Don’t ever forget the Canadians: Military strategists and historians have long praised their tenacity and steadfastness.
Like other troops, the Canadians had their weapons: guns, explosives, bayonets—and bicycles.
About 1000 “paratrooper” bikes accompanied Canadian forces on D-Day. Most were left behind when the soldiers were deployed to other fields, sent home or died. Locals picked them up and used them up. Therefore, the one in the photo—in the collection of the Juno Beach Centre, the Canadian museum near the landing beach—is one of the few that survive.
It was issued to Sherbrooke, Quebec Marius Aubé, who served with the Royal Canadian Army Service Corps. He befriended a local farm family and when he departed, he gave the bike to Christian Costil, the family’s 14-year-old son. He used it on the farm and, later, on his rounds as a meter reader. from which he retired in 1985.
The bike also kindled a lifelong friendship that included letters which were donated, along with the bike, to the museum after Costil died in November 2020.
Even without such a back-story, that bike is interesting. For one thing, Birmingham Small Arms—BSA—made it. As their name suggests, they also supplied the British and Canadian forces with firearms.
As you can see from the photo, there are two large wing nuts in the middle of the frame. This allowed the bike to fold, and the trooper to hold it close as he disembarked from a ship, marched—or parachuted. For the latter maneuver, a soldiers would lower the bikes so it hit the ground before he did. That would cushion the impact somewhat and the soldier simply had to straighten the wheel and tighten the wing nuts before pedaling away.
The more I am opposed to war, the more respect I have for veterans.
As counterintuitive as it may seem, my opposition to war is exactly the reason why I believe that veterans—especially if they have been in combat—should never want for anything.
That said, I don’t think that the uniform is a halo. As much as I respect military service, I’m not naive enough to believe that all former service members are heroes in civilian life. And I don’t think that said service should be a “get out of jail free card.”
Which brings me to Paul Whelan. I feel for his family, who are about to spend another holiday without him. On the other hand, I think that false equivalencies have been made, and blame has been misplaced, since Britany Griner has returned home while he’s still incarcerated in Russia.
The Trumpists are blaming Biden. Truth is, Mango Mussolini didn’t do a damned thing to help Whelan, who was arrested four years ago. And, although I’d like to see Whelan returned home, he’s not quite the hero Fox News and other right-wingers have made him in light of his military service—from which he was less-than-honorably discharged.
On the other hand, Steve Pringle was a hero. The Army Veteran started Build A Bicycle-Bicycle Therapy on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The shop’s name reflects Pringle’s purpose or, more precisely, mission: He wanted to help veterans who, like him, had trouble re-integrated into civilian life. It grew to include programs for rehabilitated prisoners, people with disabilities and others who have trouble finding employment.
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| Steve Pringle gives a bike to Kadence Horton of Iron Mountain, Michigan. Photo by Ryan Gorza, Detroit Free Press. |
Money was never his motivation, he said. That is why he often offered steep discounts and gave bikes away. His work would range beyond his home base: He was delivering bikes in Florida, where he operated another shop like his “home “ shop in Michigan, to children and families whose lives were upended by Hurricane Ian.
In a terrible irony, he became another victim of that storm. He drove the bike-laden truck into an intersection, where another vehicle struck with such force that the truck reportedly hit a pole and rolled over.
That intersection didn’t have a “Stop” sign: Ian’s winds blew it away.
Paul Whelan’s military service didn’t make him a hero. Nor did Steve Pringle’s. But Pringle became a hero to many who died in the service of the people who have the most reason to revere him.
Eighty-one years ago today, Japanese forces attacked Pearl Harbor.
Most histories record it as a "surprise" attack. That it probably was to most people, though various accounts claim that military intelligence officers, diplomats and, possibly, FDR himself, ignored warning signs. Whatever the truth is, the attack drew the US into World War II.
On that day, about 2400 military service members died. I grew up seeing commemorations, some of which included survivors of the attack, in part because one of my uncles was an American Legion post commander. Until fairly recently, I saw many more observances: Queens County, where I live, had (and, possibly, still has) one of the largest populations of veterans in the US.
During the past few years, I've heard little, if anything, about the attack. There aren't many Pearl Harbor veterans left, and the youngest would be about 98 years old. And, understandably, those who served in later wars don't have quite the same connection to Pearl harbor or World War II.
I understand that it's possible to cycle to Pearl Harbor on a designated bicycle and pedestrian lane. If I ever go to Hawaii (something I have never had any inclination to do), I'm sure I'll check it out. Yelp reviews of the lane are mixed. More precisely, they seem to range according to whether the reviewer is a resident or tourist. And they seem to be cyclical: Sometimes people rave about the ocean views and the fact that it's flat; other times they lament that the path looks and feels as if it subject to the attack 81 years ago--and hasn't been fixed since.
Today I will invoke the Howard Cosell Rule. That is to say, I am going to write about something that has little, if anything, to do with bicycles or bicycling.
You've heard about it by now: Some time before midnight on Saturday, a young man dressed in a military-style flak jacket and armed with a long rifle and a handgun--both of which he purchased-- entered Club Q, an LGBTQ night spot in Colorado Springs.
By the time a couple of patrons subdued him, he'd killed five other patrons and wounded 17 others. At least one of the victims, Ashley Green Paugh, wasn't even a member of the LGBTQ community: She was with a friend with whom she'd spent the day. Now there is a girl without a mother and a man without a wife--in addition to the partners, familys and friends who no longer have Daniel Aston, Kelly Loving, Raymond Green Vance and Derrick Rump in their lives.
The last I heard, authorities were "trying to determine whether" the slaughter was a "hate crime." Even if the suspect, Anderson Lee Aldrich, didn't know that Sunday was Transgender Day of Remembrance, and some patrons were in Club Q to commemorate it, I don't know how any other motive can be ascribed to him. After all, if he wanted to kill people just because, there were plenty of other venues he could have chosen, especially on a Saturday night.
As if it weren't enough of a terrible irony or coincidence that it happened on the eve of TDoR or that one of the victims is named "Loving," it turns out that Aldrich, who committed one of the most lawless acts possible, is the grandson of an outgoing California legislator. Randy Voepel, who lost his re-election bid earlier this month, reacted to the January 6 insurrection with this: "This is Lexington and Concord. First shots fired against tyranny." He added, "Tyranny will follow in the aftermath of the Biden swear in (sic) on January 20."
Now, I know some will say that there isn't a direct link between grandfather and grandson when it comes to attitudes about using violence. But it's hard not to think that Voepel is at least emblematic of some sort of value Aldrich imbibed. Oh, and in June 2021, Aldrich was arrested for making a bomb threat in his mother's home. Perhaps neither his grandfather nor anyone else in his family taught him that doing such a thing was OK, but I can't help but to think that from somewhere or someone in his environment--whether in his family, community or elsewhere--he got the idea that it's OK to use force and threats thereof to get his way. After all, even the crankiest and most recalcitrant baby isn't born knowing how to do such things.
That he made the threat in his mother's house has been mentioned. So has the fact that, in spite of doing so, he evaded Colorado's "red flag" law, which is supposed to prevent people with criminal convictions from purchasing firearms. But the media has only hinted at other issues that the slaughter highlights.
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| Photo by Scott Olson, for Getty Images |
One of those issues is that a place like Colorado Springs needs a place like Club Q. I have spent exactly one day in the city: I was passing through on my way to someplace else. The city always touts its proximity to Pike's Peak, which is visible from just about everywhere. I must admit that made me long, for a moment, to live there, if for no other reason that I'd probably be a better cyclist--or, at least, a better climber--than I am.
But I also knew that, had I stayed in Colorado Springs, I would be living a very different life. Actually, I might not be living at all: Aside from being a cyclist, it would be very difficult to be the person I am. Like many "blue" or "swing" states, Colorado has its red, as in redneck, areas where some have longings like the one a taxi driver expressed to me: to be in Alaska, Montana, Wyoming or some other place where people live, as he said, "like real Americans."
Colorado Springs is in that red zone. But its conservativism is amplified by some of the institutions in and around the city. The most prominent and visible is the United States Air Force Academy. There are also several military bases nearby. And the town is also home to Focus on the Family which, like other right-wing Christian organizations, uses its "focus" on the "family" as a smokescreen for a homo- and trans-phobic, misogynistic, anti-choice agenda. Several people who were interviewed, including a few lifelong residents, confirm the impression that I have about the city.
As in any place else, kids grow up in the closet. For them, a place like Club Q is the only place where they can safely be themselves. And there are adult LGBTQ people in places like Colorado Springs because of work or family ties--or simply because they like living in the mountains. Where else would they meet people in similar circumstances but in a place like Club Q.
Anyway, I couldn't think of much else besides the tragedy in Colorado Springs. The most terrifying thought of all, though, is that it probably won't be the last.
One thing I would find funny if it didn't so enrage me is priests being sentenced to "a life of prayer and penance" after sexually abusing children. Especially if said priest is old and has so exploited multiple victims.
I got to thinking about that when I heard the story of one Nicholas Clark.
Who is he? you ask.
He's someone important enough for USA Cycling to know about. More precisely, the American cycling body has just suspended him from all of its activities for one year and from holding a coaching license for three years.
What did he do to earn such a punishment?
Oh, he more than earned it. He'd built an enthusisatic following as a coach and owner of ProBike FC, a bike shop in Fairfax County, Virginia. From that locale, he led training rides that included dozens of people, many of them in his thrall over his having raced for teams like AG2R-Casino on such prestigious races as the Tour of Flanders, Paris-Nice and Liege-Bastogne-Liege.
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| Nick Clark addresses a training ride at his shop. |
The problem, as you might have guessed by now, is that his account of his racing history contained just about as much truth as any claim I could make of a blood relationship to the King of Sardinia and the Duchess of Savoie.
Or that I gave Tim Berners-Lee that great idea he had. But, really, I let him take credit for it because I didn't want the spotlight.
The other claims Clark made weren't so farfetched. But his profile picture on his now-deleted Strava account shows him standing with Johan Museeuw, who gives him a thumbs-up and another prominent pro rider, Paolo Bettini, on a cloudy day in Belgium.
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| The Casino team. Where's Nick? |
Now, I am not going to say whether that photo was "doctored." As we say in the old country, I'll leave that up to you, dear reader. But it's come to light that some other things he used to burnish his C.V. were as fabricated as anything as anyone could assemble from three letters: B.ec, LLB, MBA, CPA and CEO. Oh, and he fudged other credentials and relationships to fit one scheme or another.
Of course, USA Cycling can't punish him for faking academic, military or corporate credentials. But, it seems, there was some, shall we say, misconduct when he coached a women's cycling team.
The thing that unraveled the world he fabricated, however, was recorded on that now-deleted Strava account. One day three years ago, he ascended a steep climb near his home at a faster pace--and lower energy output--than even an elite pro rider in the prime of his or her career could. And Nick was a decade and a half past such a peak, if indeed he ever had one.
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| A screenshot of Clark's now-deleted Strava account. |
Another Strava entry a few months later, at age 45, showed that he rose up a hors de categorie climb in Arizona faster and with less effort than Sepp Kuss, a young rider who shepherded Primoz Roglic to second place in the 2020 Tour de France and later won a stage himself.
A few people looked into Clark's Strava account and found claims of his seeming to have defied the limits of physiology, the laws of physics and pure-and-simple reason.
Further digging revealed, among many other false claims, that he'd left his native Australia for Norway to compete in the 1993 Junior Road World Championships.
The winner of that tournament's rain-soaked elite men's road race? Lance Armstrong. The senior road race, that is. That year's Junior Worlds, contrary to Clark's fable, were actually held in Perth, Australia: his own hometown. Still, there's no record of his having participated.
A fraud and a doper. That's just about as rich as Donald Trump, another fraud, endorsing Dr. Oz, a quack, for Senate. Maybe they'll be sentenced to a life of prayer and penance--or a one-year ban from something.
These days, Nick Clark is working as a firearms instructor, claiming military experience and a background as a "former officer with the Department of Corrections having served in a number of units, from SuperMax wings, to emergency response and hostage response units and drug squad as an active drug dog handler."
If that turns out to be as true as his other stories maybe he'll, I dunno, have his license to shoot a cap gun suspended for six months or something. Of course, that's less harsh than any punishment he'd get from the UCI for any cycling-related infraction.
One of the more interesting (to me, anyway) ironies of my life is that I often ride in or through Flushing Meadow-Corona Park, the site of the 1964-65 World's Fair.
My now-vague memories of having attended with my parents and younger siblings (whose memories are probably even vaguer than mine, if they have any at all!) include visions of flying cars and sidewalks that weren't because, well, people didn't walk: They were conveyed on belts to their destinations.
It was a time when progress was depicted as inevitable, limitless and always aided and abetted by technologies that made our daily lives less arduous--and took ever-greater quantities of resources. Nuclear energy would be the power source of the future because advances in its technology would render it "too cheap to meter." In those days, "sustainable" was not part of planners' vocabularies.
Sometimes I wonder just how much we've moved on from such thinking. In his article for Next City, Nicolas Collignon points out that even as cities like New York Paris Milan and Bogota invest in bike lanes and other incentives to trade four wheels and one pedal for two wheels and two pedals, too much of today's planning is based on such innovations as self-driving cars and flying delivery drones. At the same time, according to Collignon, too many planners neglect the role bicycles can play in making cities more livable, sustainable and affordable.
So why do planners have such a blind spot for our favorite means of transportation and, well, just having fun? Well, since you, dear readers, are smart people, you probably have the answer: money. Specifically, where the money comes from: automotive and high-tech companies, which have much deeper pockets than any in the bicycle industry.
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| Photo by Francois Mori |
Of course, those auto and tech companies--even the ones that tout themselves as "green"--have ties to the fossil fuel and military (given our recent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, I cannot call it "defense") industries. That may be a reason why those planners have similar blind spots to the effects clean-looking technologies and "cleaner" automobiles actually have--or why they bought Uber and Lyft's sales pitch that their services would reduce traffic. If you live in almost any major city, you can see how much that prophecy has come to pass.
I also can't help but to think that those companies--and, sometimes, the urban planners themselves--are, openly or covertly, stoking drivers' resentments toward cyclists.
Yesterday morning I kept with my riding plan for this heat wave, which is expected to continue at least until Sunday. Once again, I set out after quick breakfast--coffee and two English muffins pan-toasted with olive oil, fresh-ground black pepper and rosemary--early.
(I like butter as much as anyone does. But I feel that olive oil is more elegant. Maybe it has to do with my Italian heritage.)
My trip took me to Fort Totten and back, via the Malcolm X Promenade and some zigging and zagging through northeastern Queens residential streets. All told, I did about 40 km (25 miles) round-trip before 10 am. And, yes, I did get my fresh Greek yogurt from Kesso's: Their hours coincided with mine.
At Fort Totten, I could see how hot an humid the day would be--and, in spite of the clear skies at that moment, I could tell, from the haze on Long Island Sound, that the storm forecast for the afternoon would indeed drop lots of water very quickly and hard: the thunder almost seemed to be an echo of the rain pounding against the sidewalks.
I felt confident, though, that I would get to my place before the storm. Maybe it had something to do with riding Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear: I couldn't coast; I had no choice but to pedal. It felt really good.
Somehow I think she knew that house was officer's quarters when Fort Totten was still an active military base. (A small section, fenced off, is still used for Army Reserve exercises, and the Fire Department trains in another part.) My bikes have such good taste in their destinations!
Many of us envy countries like the Netherlands and Denmark, where people cycle even if they have other transportation or recreation options. Here in the US, we have "bicycle friendly" (a relative term, to be sure) islands in a motor-centric sea.
One reason for the difference between the cycling environments has to do with policies. Europeans seem to understand what it takes to make bicycling safe and practical enough for people to choose it over driving or other forms of transportation, at least for short trips. In America, on the other hand the notion of "bicycle friendliness" seems to consist of building bicycle lanes--which, as I've said in other posts, are too often poorly-conceived, -constructed and -maintained--and passing "safety" regulations that bear no relation to the experience of riding.
A reason for so much misguided policy, I believe, has to do with media coverage. I'm not familiar with what the Danes and Dutch print or broadcast, but I suspect that it's less auto-centric than what the French see and hear which, in turn, seems like tout l'Equipe compared to what we see on our pages and screens in America.
Now, some might say that I am in a "Big Apple Bubble." It's true that on many issues--including, ahem, gun rights (Guns have rights?)--most New Yorkers, including yours truly, think differently from a state legislator in Mississippi or Texas. But from what I've been seeing and hearing, New York City's news stories aren't the only ones infected with "windshield bias."
That apt phrase came to me from Christian MilNeil, a reporter on the Boston edition of Streetsblog. In his article, he describes how the city's broadcast news programs and newspapers have framed the debates in neighboring Cambridge over bike lanes and pedestrianizing public spaces. He noted something I've seen here in New York: the debates are too often framed as "bike lanes vs. parking spaces" or some other false equivalency, as in "we have more important issues, like gun violence and affordable housing."
I will not argue that gun violence and affordable housing are not urgent issues. But comparing issues is not useful. Moreover, how does making a park car-free prevent the construction of apartments and houses that people and families can afford on worker's wages? Or passing a law that would keep people who aren't old enough to drink or who have mental health issues from acquiring military-style assault weapons?
Speaking of which: A car, especially an SUV, is as deadly a weapon as an AR-15 when an unbalanced person is at the wheel. If policy-makers actually want to encourage more people to pedal or walk to work or school, they could take measures to prevent and more severely punish violence committed against cyclists and pedestrians in which the motor vehicle is the weapon.
But I digress. MilNeil's article shows that while coverage in Boston's print media has been somewhat more balanced, the city's television and other electronic media are heavily skewed toward organizations like "Save Mass Ave" who argue that building bike lanes will destroy their businesses. Too often, he points out, stories show only outraged owners of the businesses in question or give only a few seconds to a cycling or pedestrian advocate.
(For the record, the Cambridge City Council has consistently favored policies to build bike lanes and ban cars from parks and other public areas.)
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| Massachusetts Avenue in Cambridge. Photo from Boston Streetsblog. |
I suspect that some of that distortion is inevitable. For one thing, I'd guess that most reporters and editors aren't cyclists and probably don't often walk to get to wherever they're going. But there is a more important built-in bias, I think: As we've seen all too clearly during since Trump launched his first Presidential campaign, loud, angry voices are better than calm voices relating facts at "bringing the eyeballs to the screens" or keeping earbuds in ears.
Could it be that we need advocates who foam at the mouth the way some folks do when their right to have as many and whatever kind of guns--or parking spaces--as they want. Or to use them whenever, whenever they want.
Be forewarned: Part of today's post will be a continuation of yesterday's rant, in which I lamented the terror and seeming inevitability of the mass shootings in a Texas school and Buffalo supermarket.
Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that politicians and media pundits are blaming everything but guns. I'm not talking about the "decay of moral values" or other talking points of the political and religious right. Instead, I'm talking about flat-out lies spread by folks whose careers and reputations never could withstand the truth.
Paul Gosar, the Republican Congressional Representative from Arizona, is an example of who I mean. I must say, he has managed to concoct a non-reality not even the strongest drugs could induce and twist logic and reason in ways a pretzel-maker would envy.
To wit: He tweeted that the shooter--18-year-old Salvador Ramos, born and raised in Texas--was a "transsexual leftist illegal alien." Gosar's source for that bit of intelligence? A social network called 4Chan, to which folks of his ilk are drawn like flies to, well, the stuff flies are drawn to. That's bad enough, but I would really like to know where he got his thinking skills. He followed up his out-and-out falsehood with this pearl of wisdom: "Sandy Hook proved the need to enhance K-12 security." OK. That's not too debatable. But then he made a leap into the (il)logical abyss: "Congress armed Ukraine instead."
Now, as much as I sympathise with the people of Ukraine, I wonder about Congressional members' motives in voting to send even more weapons than President Biden demanded. But talk about a false equivalency! I mean, how can he link sending help to Ukraine with school safety, or a school shooting that happened nearly a decade ago?
Compounding the problem is that other voices in the media will amplify such nonsense--or other verbal bilge-- in the same way he was a loudspeaker for Trump's beloved "low-information voters." Fox News, in following with a hallowed tradition, shifted the blame to parents.
I have to hand it to the folks at Faux, I mean Fox: They accomplished something I didn't think possible. The excerable (even by their standards) Laura Ingraham interviewed someone even more vile than herself: Andrew Pollack. That I can unfavorably compare a man who lost his daughter in the Parkland shooting to a Fox host is really saying something. He, who has previously argued "guns didn't kill my daughter, Democratic principles did," in reference to the Texas shooting, declared, "It's the parents."
How he came to that conclusion took a turn of logic that rivals what brought Gosar to his blaming the shooting on helping Ukraine. "It's your responsibility where you're sending your children to school," he explained. "You need to check where your kids go to school." He suggested that parents should take their kids "out of public school" and put them in "a private school, because a lot of these private schools, they take security way more serious."
Where to begin with that assessment? Well, for one thing, private schools are not an option for most families. Most kids go to whatever public school is zoned for wherever they live and they (or, more precisely, their parents) have little or no choice in the matter. Also, even if private school is an option, it might not meet some kids' needs. And, finally, what does he mean by "security?" Metal detectors? Armed teachers?
Oh, and there are the usual diatribes about education and mental health treatment. I would agree: If someone were to ask me for an example of an oxymoron, I might say, "American mental health care system." But that fixing that won't stop mass gun violence all by itself any more than better school security or any other action could.
Here's what I wonder: How the fuck did someone who couldn't even drink beer legally get his hands on a military-grade assault weapon? Would Ingraham ask such a question? Could--or would--Pollack or Gosar answer it?
So why am I taking up another post on a cycling blog with a discussion of a school shooting and its aftermath? Well, what Gosar and his ilk do in these situation--blame everything but guns--reminds me of the ways law enforcement and some members of the public react, too often, when a driver maims or kills a cyclist. Never mind that he or she was driving at double the speed limit, was distracted by a mobile device or impaired by drugs, alcohol or some other substance--or was simply driving agressively or carelessly. The cyclist, especially if he or she is killed, is blamed.
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.
Exactly one month before I was born (OK, you can do the math!), Charles de Gaulle proclaimed, "Je vous ai compris!" to a crowd in Algiers.
What, exactly, he understood--or whom he was trying to reassure that he understood--is not clear. Was he trying to reassure les pieds noirs--French colonials who lived (and some of whom were born) in Algeria that they could stay? Was he telling military personnel--French? Algerian? French Foreign Legion?--that he had their backs? Or was he guaranteeing Algerians that their country would become independent (as it did four years later)?
Some would say that he meant all, or none, of those things--that, perhaps, "je vous ai compris" was a "weasel" phrase.
If the latter is true, then the phrase could also be interpreted, if not translated, as "I have taken it under consideration" or "I have considered what you've said."
I have spent enough time around academic administrators to know that, for them and other bureaucrats, "consider" is too often a synonym for "ignore" or "pretend to hear."
What brought those locutions to mind is the recent law requiring New York's Metropolitan Transportation Authority--which includes New York City's subway and bus systems, the region's commuter railroads and some of its bridges and tunnels--to "consider" bicycle and pedestrian access in its capital plans. Those plans would include not only new infrastructure, but also improvements to existing structures that currently lack such access.
Call me cynical (Hey, I'm a New Yorker!), but I have to wonder just what "consider" means. Or, for that matter, "access." Some of the "access" I've seen to bridges is "access" in the same way that the stuff McDonald's and Burger King serve is "food."
And, if the MTA actually does "consider" bike and pedestrian access, I have to wonder if it will be as poorly-conceived, -constructed and -maintained as most of the bike lanes I've seen in this city.
In a terrible irony, John Lennon was murdered the day after Pearl Harbor Day.
That was 41 years ago today. I don't think it's hyperbolic to say that it shook some of us in the way that the "surprise" attack roused Americans and the world.
In another terrible irony, the man responsible for "Imagine" and other songs calling for peace and unity was cut down by a lone gunman who claimed to be inspired by a fictional character who probably would have listened to Lennon's (and the Beatles') music and probably wouldn't have committed violence simply because he turned all of his anger inward.
(Of course, Lennon's murder points up to one of the ways in which the US gets things backwards. In other countries, everyone has access to health care--which includes mental health services-- but very few people who aren't police officers or military personnel have access to firearms.)
Anyway, apart from his music and being married to the woman blamed for the breakup of the Beatles (I think she was a catalyst, not a cause), he and she were known for their "bed-ins" for peace. At their second, in Amsterdam, they were given a white bike that was part of the Provo plan.
Think of Provo as a kind of Dutch proto-Occupy Wall Street: It began as a counter-culture movement during the mid-1960s. It had a cultural wing, which staged "happenings" and an activist wing that provoked (hence the name) the police through non-violent means.
There was also a political faction that actually won a seat on Amsterdam's city council and had a number of goals to make their city and country more liveable and what we would now call "green." Those goals included the closing of central Amsterdam to motorized traffic. That, of course, is probably Provo's most recognizable and lasting legacy: One could say that the "White Bicycle" plan set the Dutch capital on its path to becoming the cycling haven it is today.
That, I believe, is something of which John Lennon would have approved.
