Taking In Tokyo On Two Wheels

 I have claimed this city for myself.

That is a bold, even bombastic statement, I know. But that is how I feel any time I’ve taken a bike ride after arriving for the first time in some place. That city, town or even country, even if I have experienced only a small part of it, becomes a part of me.

Tokyo is new to me. It doesn’t, however, feel as strange as it did last night when, the closer I came to my hotel, the more lost I became. Is it my imagination, or do Google Maps directions become more vague the closer you come to your destination? 

I had a similar experience this morning when I went to meet a group for a bike tour. When I got off the Metro at Daimon station, I was across the street from the meetup spot. That street is wide—like a “stroad”—and the point of reference wasn’t easy to spot. So I wandered away from it and missed the ride. Fortunately, the folks at Tokyo Rental Bicycle allowed me to join their afternoon tour. In the meantime I wandered around Shiba Park, which includes everything from traditional Japanese gardens and memorials to a modern playground, and fronts this:

Who knew that a flight across the Pacific would land me in Paris? Or that instead of the Champ de Mars and Invalides, I would see it from the Shoguns’ burial site?

Anyway, after seeing that, I entered the Zojoji Temple just as a ceremony was about to begin. I had just enough time to photograph the interior: Although I am not religious, I have enough respect to honor the request not to take pictures during the ritual. I thought it looked new for such an ancient temple. Turns out, it was reconstructed, using both ancient and modern techniques, half a century ago on the site of the Tokugawa Shogun’s family temple. That building stood on the site for centuries before bombing raids leveled it in 1945.

After spending time there, and in the Treasures Gallery, I figured out where the bike tours met and took a ride with Sho,  a young Tokyo native tour guide, a woman and her son from Strasbourg, France (I can’t leave wFrance, can I? and another woman, originally from Spain but living ini Belgium and speaking French (!) as her everyday language.

The first stop on our tour was the Zoiji Temple and the shrines, which I had just visited. I didn’t mind: Sho explained, among other things, the differences between a shrine and a temple (A shrine is usually for Shinto and has a gate delineating it from the rest of the world; the latter is more commonly associated with Buddhism.)and how the role of the royal family has changed. He told us to park our bikes right outside the temple’s entrance—without locking them. As a New Yorker, it amazes me that people leave their bikes unsecured in public places of such a large city!

From there, we rode to the Imperial Palace. Like the Zojoji Temple, it’s a reconstruction of a building destroyed by Allied bombing raids near the end of World War II. The Palace itself isn’t open to the public except on special occasions, but the grounds, which include a moat and fortifications, are nice—and a short from Tokyo Station.

Then we cycled to what Show half-jokingly called “the most expensive Air BnB: Akasaka Palace, where visiting dignitaries stay. From there, we made one of two climbs included in the ride (You have to get your money’s worth, right?) to the National Stadium, built for the “2020” Olympics held a year later due to COVID and, much to the dismay of taxpayers, hasn’t been used and to a Hachiko’s grave. (Yes, there’s also a tombstone for the dog who waited for him!) Sho mentioned that all of the trees in that graveyard, where some of Japan’s wealthiest and most famous people are interred, are cherry blossoms. It made me wish I could have come early in the spring!

As if to show us what a city of contrasts Tokyo is, Show took us to the Aoyama Fashion District and Shibuya Crossing, which makes Times Square seem like an intersection in one of those town’s where there’s only one traffic light. Aoyama and Shibuya epitomize everything you’ve heard about hyper-modern Tokyo.

Now that I’ve taken the Tour, with Show guiding us, I feel more confident and ready to explore a city that I feel is now mine, if in a small way. A bike ride always seems to do that for me.

Our group. Please try not to notice the weight I gained this winter!

I rode this.

What Hath Juneteenth Wrought?

 Today is Juneteenth.  On this date in 1865, two months after Robert E. Lee surrendered, Unon  troops arrived in Galveston, Texas to accept the surrender of the last Confederate regiment and inform Texas slaves that they were free.

Those events are significant because Texas was the westernmost slaveholding state. In fact, during the Civil War, some plantation owners fled the fighting in other states and brought their slaves with them. As a result, the Lone Star State had, by some estimates, the largest remaining slave population by the time President Abraham Lincoln issued his Emancipation Proclamation.

Also, Texas became a US state because of slavery. Although most of its people were English-speaking, it was part of Mexico when that country outlawed slavery in 1825. Cotton-growing and cattle-ranching, both of which were heavily dependent on slaves, were the mainstays of its economy. Rather than give up their unpaid help, they chose to secede, making Texas an independent country (some natives still refer to it as the “Lone Star Republic) for nearly a decade before the US annexed it in 1845.

Everything I mentioned in the previous paragraph was not taught when I was in school. I wonder whether curriculum-makers are still “forgetting” it.

Anyway, although Juneteenth as an official holiday is only four years old, it’s already becoming a capitalist bonanza. The bicycle industry is not exempt  As an example, State Bicycle Company is using the occasion to promote its limited edition “Bob Marley Clunker,” complete with a hemp saddle and bag—and, of course, a facsimile of the Rastaman’s signature.

Seeing that bike reminded me of a vogue from my youth—or, at least, a time in my life I could say I was young or, at any rate, not in midlife.  During the early and mid-‘90’s, it seemed that every twenty-something in California who had access to a lathe was making parts, mainly for mountain bikes, that were lighter and, supposedly, improvements over what legacy companies like Shimano and Campagnolo were offering .

How much of an improvement were they? Let me tell you about my Syncros and Control Tech stems that were recalled and the Nuke Proof rear hub that folded on itself during a ride—or the Syncros seatpost on which the head separated from the shaft while I navigated a switchback. Or two riding buddies whose Kooka cranks broke. 

But, hey, that stuff looked really cool. And some of those parts were offered in every color imaginable. (Violet and Lilac? Sign me up!) For a time, some were even available in the “Rasta Rainbow” of red, green, black and gold. (Fun fact: Jamaica has the only national flag whose colors don’t include red, white or blue.) I had a seat bag decorated with fabric in those hues, and a former riding buddy ordered his custom frame in those colors.

I’ll bet the maker of that frame—and all of the “Rasta” parts and accessories I mentioned—would have loved to have a Juneteenth sale—even if they knew nothing about the history behind that date, Texas or anything else because, well, they attended schools like mine.

By the way, you know that Juneteenth is a combination of “June” and “nineteenth.” There’s a term for that kind of mashup: portmanteau (port-man-toe).

Donuts and D-Day

 Today is National Donut Day here in the US.

I wonder whether it was someone’s idea of a marketing gimmick or sick joke—which are more or less the same thing—to merge a day devoted to sugar consumption with one the anniversary of a pivotal campaign in a war that consumed so many lives.

I’ll admit that I am not so ideologically or dietetically pure that I didn’t partake of a promotion:  I bought a cup of coffee—enough to entitle me to a freebie—and picked one of the most decadent-looking sugarbombs in the display case at the Fordham Plaza Dunkin’ Donuts: a chocolate cake ring with chocolate icing and pink stripes.

Now, did those (mostly) young American, Australian,  British, Canadian, Czech, Dutch, French, Greek, Norwegian, Polish, South African, Southern Rhodesian and New Zealand fighters risk—and in some cases lose—their lives so we can enjoy sweet baked goods? Of course not. But I did think about them because I think about them, and other like them, whenever war is commemorated. 

And I think about them precisely because I am (mostly) a pacifist. I believe, as Kurt Vonnegut (himself a WW II veteran) said, that Hitler was “pure evil” and had to be stopped.  But the conditions that fueled his rise to power—the devestation wrought by “the war to end wars” could have been avoided had the “haves” not wanted more from the “have nots.”

Am I the only one who thinks about stuff like this while riding? Or was it the sugar rush I got from that free donut which may have been responsible for the sprint I pedaled along the Bronx River Greenway.

He’s Not Just History

 Today I am going to do something I’ve never done before:  I am going to invoke my Howard Cosell rule two days in a row. In other words, this post won’t relate to bicycling. And while some of you may think I had a better reason to write such a post yesterday, I hope you will find this one interesting.

Perhaps no other athlete ever became as much of a worldwide celebrity and cultural icon as Muhammad Ali. In the world of cycling, it’s difficult to find an equivalent: Lance Armstrong might have attained such a status were it not for the allegations, and his admission, that he doped and bullied teammates into doing it or covering up for him.

An extremely small number of athletes have become icons, or have been deemed significant historical figures, even of their own culture.

Maurice Richard, who played for the Montréal Canadiens for 18 seasons and was their captain for the last four, is one such person. When I was in North America’s ville aux cent clochers, I was struck by not only how many statues, murals and other homages to “Le Rocket” I saw, but their seeming ubiquity. Here in New York, you’ll find such tributes to Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio and other legends mainly in and around Yankee Stadium. But in la belle ville, I encountered likenesses of Richard in nearly every part of town.

So I was not surprised when I learned that today, on the 25th anniversary of his death and 65 years after he played his last National Hockey League game, Québec government officials announced that he had been designated an historic figure in the province.

It is almost impossible to overstate what Maurice Richard has meant to the province’s people and to Francophones in other parts of Canada. Although they are roughly three-tenths of the nation’s population, for about two centuries, they and the province had, at best, second-class status. Québec lagged well behind neighboring Ontario and other provinces in economic terms as well as status.

About the latter: While other French Canadians excelled in sports and other endeavors before Richard came along, none carried the pride of his culture as he did.When he scored a goal, when he helped to defeat the Boston Bruins or Toronto Maple Leafs, it was a victory not only for him and the Canadiens, but also for the everyday Quebecois who, as one put it, had to “hang up” their “hat and customs” when they went to work every day—or for natives of the villages and farms north of Québec City who spoke nothing but French but were conscripted to fight for the Crown during World War II.

Some have argued that he helped to usher Québec’s “Quiet Revolution,” which campaigned for, and won, greater autonomy for the province—and modernized its educational system, which had been controlled by the Catholic Church. While it may not have been a direct consequence of Richard’s career or retirement, it could be argued that the pride be engendered helped to elect Jean Lesage as Premier of Quèbec in the same year “The Rocket” retired. Lesage, for whom Québec City’s international airport is named, is credited with modernizing the province’s educational system (and guaranteeing equal access for females) and economic system. He understood—correctly, I think—that preserving the province’s culture and language, and therefore its autonomy, would not be possible if Quebecois and other Francophone Canadians didn’t have the same educational and economic leverage as their Anglophone neighbors.

While Richard didn’t take overtly political stances as Ali did, he was fearless and proud. And, let’s face it, his looks didn’t hurt: handsome and fierce, he always seemed to be camera-ready, whether on the ice or in a boardroom.

Remembering

 I am about to invoke my Howard Cosell Rule.

Today is Memorial Day in the US—at least, officially. While it is a Federal holiday—banks and government offices are closed—some states have taken it upon themselves to declare their own “Memorial Days.” Some are being celebrated today. Others have chosen other dates: For example, in North and South Carolina, 10 May is Confederate Memorial Day: On this date in 1863, Confederate General “Stonewall” Jackson died after being accidentally shot by his own soldiers; in 1865, Confederate President Jefferson Davis was captured.

Given what we’ve seen so far from the Fake Tan Führer, I wonder whether he’ll try to end the current Memorial Day and replace it with the Carolinas’ (or some other state’s) Confederate holiday. Of course, it would include a military parade that wouldn’t honor the “suckers” and “losers.”

Unhoused veterans occupy 30 tents on the Veterans Row encampment in front of the West Los Angeles VA campus in April, 2021. George Rose/Getty

Me, I wish this day’s memorial were more about the tragedy of dying young (and, sometimes, for a questionable cause) rather than a celebration of “heroism”—or simply another shopping orgy. Oh, and wouldn’t it be nice if we made sure that those who served got the mental as well as physical health care they need—and that we don’t create more veterans who live under highway overpasses. Avoiding war and turning “swords into ploughshares” would be the best—perhaps the only—way to ensure that.

The Culture War’s Latest Casualty

 I am a non-Christian transgender female cyclist. That makes me a totem in the culture wars.

The MAGA crowd, White and Christians nationalists and all of the other far-right culture warriors (and their sympathizers), by definition, are opposed to anyone and anything that doesn’t fit their definitions of Christianity and womanhood (i.e. perpetual pregnancy and silent submission). Then, when the Fake Tan Führer (FTF)re-entered the White House, they were emboldened to turn their hate on transgenders and anyone else who doesn’t fit their notions of cisgender heterosexuality.

Now the title of Daniel Zawodny’s article in The Baltimore Banner tells us what the latest target of Faux News-addled is:  “What is the latest victim in Trump’s war on woke?  You guessed  it—bike lanes.”

Turns out, Mr. Zawodny is not being engaging in hyperbole or hysterics. Rather, he recounts how FTF’s Secretary of Transportation Sean Duffy—who claims he’s “not opposed to bike lanes” and that he “loves bikes”—confirmed a pause on all Federal funding for bike and pedestrian infrastructure pending a review considering the Trump Administration’s priorities. 

Given FTF’s hostility to cyclists—and environmentalists, anyone who wants social and economic justice and any energy source that isn’t nuclear or a fossil fuel—I have a difficult time imagining those priorities including us.

Arni Nashbar

 You were young (or not) and poor. Your local bike shop carried only the most basic stuff. If it was a Schwinn dealer, it might’ve had a Super Sport, or even a Sports Tourer/Superior on its showroom floor. But if you wanted a Paramount—or, perhaps, a Superior/Sports Tourer—it had to be ordered. Ditto for any bike lighter and more refined than, say, a Raleigh Grand Prix or Peugeot UO-8. Likewise, the shop might’ve had a Campagnolo derailleur in its showcase, but if you wanted other Campy parts—or even, sometimes, a SunTour VGT derailleur—the shop had to send for it.

Many of us lived and cycled in the circumstances I’ve described during the ‘70s Bike Boom and its aftermath. Online retailing was a quarter-century in the future. So the only alternative to brick-and-mortar stores (which some cyclists, mainly in rural areas, didn’t have) was mail-order catalogues.

Even during what Sheldon Brown has called the “Dark Ages” of US cycling (roughly two decades after World War II) mail-order companies like Cyclopedia catered to the relatively small and scattered community of American cycle enthusiasts. But, perhaps not surprisingly, many new mail-order retailers began during the Bike Boom.  Some were started by entrepreneurs who saw an opportunity; others were cycling enthusiasts for whom quality bikes, parts and accessories were either unavailable or very expensive at local shops—if indeed there were any.

Arnold “Arni” Nashbar was a cross between the two types of mail-order pioneers I’ve described. He had a background in advertising and marketing that, arguably, began when he sold T-shirts he airbrushed to finance his education at the Cleveland Institute of Art and Youngstown State University.

Arnold “Arni” Nashbar

He and his wife loved cycling. It was that passion, he said, that led them to form Bike Warehouse, which later became Bike Nashbar.

The original name offered a clue as to why he could offer merchandise many brick-and-mortar shops didn’t or couldn’t, and why his prices, even with shipping costs, were often considerably lower.  He and other mail-order companies like Bikecology (which became Supergo) and Performance had warehouses, which allowed them to buy in much greater volume than any local shop could. That purchasing power also enabled the mail-order companies to offer items, mainly high-end, most shops couldn’t. For example, Bike Warehouse/Nashbar could buy crates full of Campagnlo, and SunTour parts, or Mavic and Super Champion rims, whereas the friendly neighborhood shop could afford to keep one or two of any such items in stock.

Of course shop owners hated mail-order companies, just as they hate online retailers, because they couldn’t hope to match their prices. (Most shops have survived, then and now, by doing repairs.) But shop owners I’ve known and worked for have said they “can’t blame” people for buying online.

One reason I looked forward to getting catalogues—apart from prices—was that they offered glimpses at stuff I might not see in local shops. Even if I had no intention to buy or ride them, it was fun to see the “screwed and glued” Alan frames and ultra-light parts from cottage industries like Hi-E.

Bike Warehouse seemed to have a particular penchant for highlighting such items. But most of all, I eagerly awaited those Bike Warehouse catalogues because, shall we say, they had a particular charm evidenced by a page from this 1976 edition.

Oh, and it was printed on newsprint, in all of its black-and-white glory. When I learned of Arni’s background, I wasn’t surprised.

But surprised I was to learn of his passing last Saturday. Surprised in the sense that one is upon learning of someone’s death. Then again, he lived 83 years, which is a bit older than a typical American lifespan. And, to be fair, his legacy includes what he did to support cycling in his native Ohio and the US, and charity work.

But if anyone mentions him, I probably will think of those catalogues before anything else.

Tariffs Against China, Via Norway

 The other day, I recounted some of the ways Trump’s tariffs, particularly the ones levied against China, could affect the US bicycle industry and community.  Some retailers, distributors, importers and even manufacturers have said the new taxes could “devastate” or even “destroy” the industry. Whether or not those predictions are too dire, there will be ripples or even tidal waves no one will have predicted.

Case in point:  On Tuesday Norwegian company Bike Finder announced it is pausing exports of its devices to the US.  According to the company, the decision was made “not out of necessity, but strategy.”

So why is a Norwegian company essentially boycotting the US over its trade war with China?  You guessed it: While the bike tracking devices, which fit into the handlebars, and the software in them, are designed and developed in Norway, they are manufactured in China.

Other bicycle accessories (especially electronics)—and bicycles—have similar stories behind them: they are created and marketed by companies in North America and Europe but fabricated in China.

Backlash Against Bike Lanes

 One hard lesson I learned in my gender affirmation journey is that the euphoria of a victory, whether personal or for a community, is all but inevitably followed by a backlash.  Such a reaction could come from the same individuals or groups who initially supported the positive and necessary changes you and your community made.

In my own life, I think of how relatives, co-workers and (former) friends—and, yes, a lover—turned on me after voicing support when I started living under my current name and gender identity and, later, when I had my surgery.

Since its Civil War, the US has witnessed two major vocal, and often violent reactions against efforts to create a more just society. The first followed Reconstruction, when newly-freed African Americans were doing everything from running their own farms to running for office.  In response, White supremacist groups like the Ku Klux Klan formed and Jim Crow laws were passed. The second reactionary movement is one we’ve witnessed during the past few decades:  the current far-right movement, which includes, again, White Supremacists, allied with Christian nationalists and other reactionaries. It is the counter-current against the Civil Rights, feminist and LGBTQ+ movements of the past six decades or so.  Far-right members often talk about “taking back” “their” country.  Some were once part of the very movements they’re reacting against.

A similar phenomenon is brewing against bike lanes. San Francisco is removing the Valencia Street bike lane 18 months after the city installed it. (To be fair, the lane was supposed to be a 12-month pilot project.) Meanwhile, Ontario’s provincial government is taking actions to remove bike lanes in Toronto.  Other jurisdictions are making similar moves or stalling or canceling plans to build new bike infrastructure.

(In a related move, the self-coronated Fake Tan Fūhrer has ordered the end of congestion pricing in my hometown of New York. It’s not clear, however, that he has such authority.)

So why all of the hate for bike lanes?  If what I hear in the Big Apple echoes in other ‘burgs, much of the opposition comes from drivers and small businesses owners. The former believe that cyclists are taking “their” lanes and parking spaces, while the latter complain about lost sales.

Shop owners may have a point.  Malls (most of which are moribund) and big-box stores are inherently auto-centric. So are the business and commercial districts of most American municipalities:  They are designed so that customers can drive into, and park, in them.  While that characteristic doesn’t cause Wal-Mart to lose customers—such stores are usually surrounded by large parking lots—the downtown stores and cafes rely, in large part, on curbside access.

As for lost traffic lanes and parking spaces:  As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, studies show that it isn’t the case.  Bike lanes don’t “cause” traffic jams:  In most cases, the road was already congested.  As more than one planner has observed, streets and highways are “build it and they will come” projects.

The real reasons for the backlash against bike infrastructure, as Ron Johnson writes in Momentum, include the following:  a.) even in large cities, transportation planning is made in an “imaginary world” in which there are only “suburban drivers “ and its corollary, b.) the lack of a true infrastructure that allows cyclists to pedal safely from Point A to Point B.  Too often, the bike lanes are just “tokens,” poorly-conceived, constructed and maintained ribbons that make no one safer.

Two examples are the Grand Concourse lane near my current residence and the Queens Boulevard lane near my former home. Both are center lanes along the divider. One problem is that every few blocks, traffic crosses the lane to enter or leave the service lane.  Another is that because those lanes are not physically separated, drivers use them as passing lanes. (Some seem to take out their aggression by passing as close and as fast as they can to cyclists.) Moreover, trucks park or idle in the lanes when drivers deliver to the businesses that line the Concourse and Boulevard.  Oh, and I’ve seen cops sipping coffee and munching their donuts (OK, accuse me of stereotyping!) in patrol cars parked in the bike lane.

In other words, such lanes benefit no one. Nobody is safer and, perhaps, shop owners are indeed losing business.  A better-planned bike network would take cyclists where they want and need to go and allow traffic to flow more efficiently.

But would it stop the backlash?  Well, maybe not.  As Johnson points out, it’s one of the “culture wars” in which cyclists and their allies are seen as “woke” granola-crunching gender-variant (whoops, I meant non-male- or -female conforming) “enemies.”  In other words, people like me.  So the backlash against bike lanes doesn’t surprise me.

“Kittie” Knox

 February is Black History Month in the U.S. In years past, I’ve recounted the life and accomplishments of Major Taylor (which I may re-visit this month), a Black cycling brigade and other stories related to the experiences of African-descended cyclists in America. Today, however, I want to call attention to someone who has been all but forgotten, save by a few African American history scholars.

Katherine Towle “Kittie” Knox was born on 7 October 1874 in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts. When she was seven, her father died. Shortly afterward, her mother moved with her and her brother to the West End of Boston, a largely impoverished neighborhood that many American Blacks and immigrants called home.

She would work as a seamstress and her brother as a steamfitter. In addition to helping her family, her work allowed her to save money and buy a bicycle, which was a “big ticket” item. Her job also helped her to create a unique, and sometimes controversial, identity.

Ms. Knox came of age just as the first American bicycle boom was building up steam. And the Boston area was one of its epicenters. Kittie’s enthusiasm and talent were quickly noticed, and she was invited to participate in races and other events—and to become a member of the League of American Wheelmen (now known as the League of American Cyclists) in 1893.

In one of cycling’s more shameful episodes, one year after Knox became a member, the L.A.W. amended its constitution to mandate that only White cyclists could join. Disputes about Kittie’s membership ensued. She did not give in to pressure to resign and the amendment was not retroactive. “Kittie” Knox thus remained a member and a popular rider in its—and other—events.

But her popularity didn’t shield her from the “double whammy” of race and gender discrimination. Even as a card-carrying L.A.W. member, she was denied entry to races and other rides. And she was refused service in hotels and restaurants.  A newspaper account from 1895 describes an all-too-typical incident:

Asbury Park, New Jersey was a fashionable beach town and the site of a prestigious race. That newspaper account offers a glimpse into its troubled racial history. It’s a morning’s or afternoon’s bike ride from where I lived during my high-school years. Whenever I rode through that part of the Jersey Shore, I couldn’t help but to notice how I was pedaling from White to Black, or back, when I entered or left the city, which was ravaged by a race riot in 1970. And neighboring Ocean Grove was a “sundown town.” Both municipalities, like my high school town, are part of Monmouth County—which, according to some sources, had the largest Ku Klux Klan membership of any county north of the Mason-Dixon Line.

The newspaper account of that time also highlights, if unintentionally, the other “prong” of discrimination she faced. The “pretty colored girl from Boston” used the skills she acquired as a seamstress to create outfits that, in addition to allowing more freedom of movement than typical women’s cycling attire of the time, had a distinctive look. So, even when she won a race, reporters and much of the public focused on her appearance rather than her aptitude or hard work.

Unfortunately, not enough has changed. I can recall sports journalists and commentators tamping their praise of Serena Williams’ other-worldly tennis playing with criticisms of her inability to conform to their ideas of femininity.  Rebecca Twigg probably made more money from modeling clothes than from winning a rainbow jersey. And, for all of her dominance on the basketball court, much of the media and public seem more infatuated with Caitlin Clark's Midwestern “girl next door” persona.

Given what I’ve just said, it’s interesting and possibly disturbing to think of what her post-racing life could have been like. Would she have kept the flame of American cycling alive after World War I? Could she have become a fashion designer or created a line of clothing for athletic women? Or would she have been part of the “Harlem Renaissance,” whether on-site or in spirit?  We’ll never know because she died on 11 October 1900–four days after turning 26–from liver disease.

A Ride Through History

 One of my passions—obsessions, perhaps—is learning the history, especially African-American and colonial, I wasn’t taught in school.

I got to thinking about that when I realized that next month is African American history month—and the sixtieth anniversary of at least two important parts of that history are coming up.

One of them is the marches from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. The other is the assassination of Malcolm X.

About Malcolm:  He was completely misrepresented, if he was mentioned at all.  I first realized as much when I read his autobiography. (That, I believe, motivated me to learn as much as I can about the history I wasn’t taught.) It seems that educators—and the culture generally—has misunderstood and misused “by any means necessary” to paint Malcolm as a maniac with homicide in his heart. He was changing even as he told his story to Alex Haley, his collaborator on his autobiography and, I believe, would have repudiated some of the things he said then—let alone in his earlier speeches—had he lived longer. But even the portrait that emerged from his autobiography and his speeches made him heroic to me because one of his underlying messages was that people have to free themselves from whatever enslaves them, whether it’s an exploitative system, an addictive substance or William Blake’s “mind forg’d manacles.”

Speaking of enslavement:  The March from Selma to Montgomery occurred just a few weeks before the 100th anniversary of the American Civil War’s end. (Anyone who tells you that the war wasn’t about slavery is ignorant or dishonest.) But a century later, Blacks—and poor Whites—weren’t free of their shackles.  Moreover, they were paying a tax, if you will, on those restraints they bore. But they we’re fighting—and often paying with blood and flesh—to fight them, and their imposers, off. That is about as far from the picture of the Civil Rights movement textbooks and the media painted for us: a sunny diorama of Martin intoning “I have a dream” and well-intentioned people chanting “We shall overcome,” all of it sepia-tinged to make White liberals of the time look heroic and those of today feel good about themselves for admiring them.

All right, I’ll get off my soapbox. (Standing on it while wearing cleats is precarious!) There will be a number of commemorations, including a marches. And, the other day, a bike ride followed the route.

The War To End All Wars

 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.

Not The Way To Deal With A Flat Tire

 

In Ladri di Biciclette—known in the English-speaking world as “Bicycle Thieves” or “The Bicycle Thief”—protagonist Antonio Ricci’s bicycle, which he needs in order to do his job, is stolen.  After a futile search, he sees an unattended bicycle and jumps on it. 

Of course, there is even more to the story. But if there is a “point,” it may be that conventional morality breaks down when people are desperate, as Antonio and so many other people were in war-ravaged Rome. That is a reason why I and many other viewers have felt some sympathy for him that we wouldn’t feel for other bike thieves.

Then again, most bike thieves don’t have a motive nearly as laudable, or at least socially acceptable, as that of Antonio, who is simply trying to feed his family. Most thieves’ goal is to sell the bike or its parts, locally or abroad, whether for themselves or a ring or gang in which they work.

Then there is the fellow in New Zealand who saw an unlocked bike in front of a supermarket and took off on it.

Why?  Because his own bike got a flat tire.

Matthew Gallatly has since pleaded guilty and been sentenced to community service and to pay for the insurance excess. The judge lauded him for owning up to his misdeed but said there is “no excuse” for it.

Ghost Bikes: More Dangerous Than Guns?

When kids are shot to death in school, “thoughts and prayers” are offered. But when anyone suggests making it more difficult to obtain firearms—especially assault weapons—some of the same folks who grace those kids with their “thoughts and prayers”  grow apoplectic: They rage about “losing” their “Second Amendment Rights” and argue that a school shooting now and then is a “price” we have to pay for “freedom.”

I would bet that among such stalwart defenders of our “rights” are the ones ordering that a “ghost” bike be removed from its place by a school because students would be traumatized by seeing it.

This scenario is unfolding at Sugar Mill Elementary School in Port Orange, Florida. Tara Okhovatian placed the memorial to ShaoLan Kamaly, a 10-year old who was struck and killed as she rode her bike to school last spring. Okhovatian is a friend of Kamaly’s family and said her son loved playing with ShaoLan, who said she didn’t like princesses because they “don’t do anything but wait for guys to save them.”

Okhovatian tried to save her memory. But she has been ordered to remove the makeshift shrine or law enforcement would “retrieve” it.

Ah, where else but in Florida, where it’s easier to get a gun than almost anyplace that’s not an active war zone, but helping kids remember their classmate is deemed too dangerous?

Ban ‘Em All! Let Trump Sort ‘‘Em Out!

 Before firing the shot that grazed Donald Trump’s ear, Thomas Matthew Crooks (Can you think of a better name?) scoped out the area around the rally—on his bicycle.

Oh, and we’ve all seen videos of President Joe Biden wobbling and falling off his Trek.

What does that mean? For the first time in US history, a bicycle was involved in endangering the lives of both major-party candidates in a Presidential elections.

Bicycles! We all know they’re a Green Commie Chinese device to undermine national security. Therefore…We simply must ban them.

Of course you know, dear readers, that I would never propose anything so outrageous. Rather, it’s the premise of a Washington Free Beacon editorial.  

Its author, Andrew Stiles, clearly labels his work as “satire.” As such, it’s very good—even if, as I suspect, he is lampooning his and the WFB’s editorial board’s idea of what cycling, recycling, gender-“changing” pinkos like me think about guns. 

Another school shooting. Ban all guns.

For the record, I am not at all in favor of outlawing firearms. I have not so much as handled one in more than four decades. But I understand that if I were to pick one up, I won’t be on a slippery slope to shooting up a shopping mall.

Two of my uncles were hunters. I have been in rural homes where the meat in the freezer came from a family member’s skill with using a rifle that was propped against a wall. And, as the matriarch of one such family pointed out, in a remote area like hers, it could take the police an hour to arrive in response to an emergency call. That is, if they can even get to a house like hers, which may not be accessible from a paved road.

So, of course I don’t favor, any more than Bernie Sanders, “taking everyone’s guns away.” I do favor, however, stronger safeguards against unbalanced people getting their hands on weapons of war.

That said, I also think that to keep kids safe, we need to post copies of the Ten Commandments in every classroom*—just as we need to Andrew Stiles’ proposal to keep this country—and its presidential candidates—safe.

*—I would love to hear how a teacher might explain #7 to a second-grader.

How The News Could Have Arrived Faster

Happy Juneteenth!

As you may know, on this date in 1865, a Union officer in Galveston, Texas read the order stating that, under Federal law, all slaves in the US were free.  

Texas was the westernmost Confederate state and news traveled slowly in those days. (Remember, they didn't have telephones, let alone the Internet.)  So slaves in the Lone Star State wouldn't learn of their freedom until two months after the end of the Civil War.

The news might've traveled faster if it had been delivered by this man:

He is, of course, "Major" Taylor:  the first African American champion in any sport and one of the greatest athletes who ever lived. 

80 Years Ago Today: D-Day

 Eighty years ago today, uniformed fighters from Australia, Canada, Czechoslovakia, France, Greece, Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Poland, South Africa, Southern Rhodesia and, of course, the United Kingdom and the United States, staged the largest seaborne invasion in history. Today we know it as D-Day.

I reckon that not many of those soldiers, sailors and other fighters who opened the door to liberating Europe from the Nazis are alive today. It seems not so long ago that there were many more survivors—you saw them at Memorial and Veterans’ Day parades and other events—and they weren’t much older than I am now!

Anyway, I am observing this day precisely because I am a (mostly) pacifist:  While I understand that Hitler may have been, as Kurt Vonnegut described him, “pure evil” and had to be stopped, I also understand that war is not only about the fighting itself or the ostensible causes; it’s also about the social and economic factors—including tax laws that reward a few people for making war on the planet, if you will. I shudder to think about the lives that have been wasted and ruined—including those of many veterans—as a result. 

In other words, ensuring that no veteran wants is one of the things we must do in order to work for peace.

Now that I’ve delivered my message, such as it is, for this day, I am leaving you with images of soldiers who landed on the Normandy beaches with bicycles strapped to their backs.  Of course they weren’t going for a pleasant tour in the countryside. They brought those bikes, which folded in the middle, because they could reach places, swiftly and silently, that couldn’t be accessed with motorized vehicles.

Where The Ghosts Come From

 So where do “ghost bikes” come from?

An article in today’s New York Times answered that question:  The bikes are donated by shops, friends or located via word of mouth. Volunteer strip away parts line pedals to make the bikes unrideable, then give them that familiar coat of white paint.  The volunteers also make the signs that read “Cyclist killed here. Rest in peace,” that are usually attached to, or by, the bike.

In addition to describing how volunteers create “ghost bikes,” the article raises some important questions—and disseminates, if unwittingly, some misconceptions about why we’re seeing more “ghosts.” 

As the article points out—Vision Zero notwithstanding—2023 was the deadliest year for New York City cyclists since 1999. The vast majority of casualties were on eBikes.  But the article goes on to quote advocates and planners who say the network of bike lanes and other infrastructure is “disconnected.” 

Photo from the New York Times.

True enough, as I know all too well. But I don’t know how fixing that problem will make cycling safer for people like me, on traditional bikes, when much of this city’s laneage is dominated by eBikes and motorized bikes on which the motor is the sole means of propulsion rather than a means to assist pedaling. Too often, those bikes are ridden by “cowboy” delivery workers whose employers incentivize or pressure them to make as many deliveries as possible, as quickly as possible, safely be damned—or by young joyriders equally disdainful of the rules of the road.  Oh, and don’t get me started on how often drivers (including cops) park in those lanes or pull over to have their coffee and donuts. 

Also, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, the police—and very often, the public— blame cyclists who, if they don’t survive a crash, can’t defend themselves. (I have said that running down a cyclist is the easiest way to get away with murder in the US.) Never mind that the driver was speeding or ran a red light:  There’s an attitude that cyclists “have it coming to them” when they’re injured or killed.

As long as misconceptions and misguided policies shape efforts to make cycling “safer,” those volunteers who make “ghost” bikes won’t lack for work—though they probably would love to do other things, just as Robert Capa hoped to “stay unemployed as a war photographer “ for “the rest of my life.”

Bike Mistaken For Deadly Weapon In Gaza

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.

Susan B.Anthony, Muhammad Ali And Flight:370

 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?