Cyclist Robbed Of Bike At Gunpoint

In other posts, I've mentioned that when I'm riding to or from downtown or midtown Manhattan, my preferred East River crossing is the Williamsburg Bridge.  

For one thing, it has a relatively roomy bike lane.  So, even when it's crowded, I don't feel as if I'm competing for space with pedestrians, scooters or delivery workers on motor bikes.  

For another, the entry and exit points on either side of the bridge are connected to segregated bike lanes that  offer easy access to the Lower East Side, Chinatown, Williamsburg and other places.  You can reach the Staten Island and Governor's Island ferries, or the World Trade Center PATH train in minutes from the Manhattan side.

The Williamsburg wasn't always my crossing of choice, however. Even before it was refurbished, it had a better bike lane than the other bridges.  But about thirty years ago, when the overall crime rate was much higher, the neighborhoods on either side of the bridge were still considered, even by the standards of the time, high-crime areas.  I knew several cyclists who were robbed of high-end bikes at gun- or knife-point by individuals who jumped them or groups who blocked their way.

Unfortunately, it seems that such incidents are on the rise again. While I don't know any cyclists who've been so victimized recently--at least, not yet--I am reading and hearing about more incidents of cyclists losing their bikes while riding them.

One such incident happened on Saturday night.  What is particularly striking about this incident is that it took place on a designated bike path--in Madison, Wisconsin, a mecca of cycling in the middle of the country. (Some call it the Portland of the Midwest.  I wonder whether, when Portland was first becoming popular with the young, hip and "weird," someone called it the "Madison on the Pacific" or some such thing.) Apparently, a masked man stepped in the cyclist's path and pointed a gun at him.  The cyclist dismounted; the thief took it and took off.

Polka Dots For This Mum!

In the summers of 2000 and 2001, I became a "Tour chaser":  I rode along part of the race's route.  Specifically, I rode the mountain stages, not far from the race itself.  In 2000, I rode up and down some of the Pyrenees climbs en route to Spain and back.  The following year, I ascended some of the most difficult Alpine climb, including a ride up the Alpe d'Huez in the morning, ahead of the Tour caravan.

I thought I was quite the rider.  So did anyone who saw me or heard about what I did:  I made all of those climbs and descents with a full set of panniers and handlebar bag.  So, although my bike--a Voodoo Wazoo Cyclo-cross machine--was relatively light, especially considering that I rode with sturdy tires, I was hauling about ten kilograms more than any of the racers.

I don't know what it would be like to do those climbs now.  After all, I was twenty years younger than I am now.  Oh, and those two tours (the 2001 ride took me into a bit of Italy and another bit of Switzerland) were the last I did before my gender affirmation process.  So I had a full dose of testosterone, if you will, powering those muscles in my legs.

But I must say that someone who followed Sunday's ninth stage of the Tour de France puts me to shame.  

#TDF2022 It's hard to be a good mom #respect #sharingpassion pic.twitter.com/vKZwPRso6I

— ProCyclingStats.com (@ProCyclingStats) July 10, 2022

Dubbed "Supermum" and "Mum of the Year," she pedaled up--and down--the Col de Croix with her kid in tow.  Some have suggested that since she was riding a Cannondale, and did something similar in the wake of the 2019 Giro d'Italia, the bike-maker should sponsor her.

If I'd been awarded the polka-dot jersey for my rides, I would gladly have given it to her. 

Enjoying The Moment Of The Ride

The past weekend was, by almost anybody's definition, a perfect summer weekend for bike riding: clear skies, low-to-moderate humidity and high temperatures of 27-29C (81 to 85F).   So, of course, I took advantage of it.

How could it have been any better?  Well, on both days I managed to ride into the wind most of the way out and with the wind most of the way home. People were out and about, but the places where people congregate weren't terribly crowded.

On Saturday, I pedaled up to Greenwich, Connecticut and took a "pit stop" in the Common, in the center of town, where a family and their dog greeted me. I didn't take any photos, in part because there was nothing really new about the ride, but more interestingly, because I felt so much as if I were riding in, and enjoying the moment--some might call it a "zen" ride--that I didn't want to do anything else but pedal and take in what my senses, opened from pedaling and simply being immersed in the moment, offered me.

Yesterday was much the same, except that I took another familiar ride, to Point Lookout.  There were a few small differences from my normal trek, as Beech Street in Long Beach was closed off for some sort of fair or festival.  After I zigged and zagged for a few blocks, I found a one-way residential street--Walnut--where I saw no traffic all the way to the west entrance of Nickerson Beach--a couple of miles of riding bliss, by my reckoning.

At Point Lookout, I saw a "creature."  At least, that's what it looked like from the corner of my eye.

Could the young woman sitting on the edge of the surface have been unaware of that "monster" creeping toward her? Or was she in denial?   

Or, perhaps, she was just enjoying the moment, too.