Making Bike In Minnesota

Minnesota State College Southeast, in the city of Red Wing, has a guitar repair and building program.  That program has a waiting list.

So, why am I mentioning it in this blog?  

Well, folks at the college realized that the reason why so many students signed up for the program is something every educator knows:  Students will be engaged, work hard and learn well when teachers encourage students to work on something that fits their passions.  

That is a scenario Travis Thul, the college's Dean of Trade and Technology, wanted to replicate in another program he's helping to create.  He says the college was looking for something that has "unique, tangible emotional appeal" while, at the same time, "encompassing the core competencies of mass manufacturing."  

So what did he and the college come upon?  Well, since you're reading this blog, you may have already guessed the answer:  the bicycle.  As he says, most people have grown up with a bicycle and recall the fun they had with it.  Also, the city of Red Wing has a "bicycle-oriented culture," with trails that attract riders from the surrounding areas. 

 

Furthermore, Minnesota and neighboring Wisconsin have companies that represent a disproportionate amount of the US bicycle business, so there are job opportunities for graduates of the college's bicycle design and fabrication program.  The first classes--which include algebra and physics--will be held in the Fall of 2019, and the first graduates are expected to get their Associate of Applied Science degree in 2021 after completing 60 credits.

While students will study traditional aspects of bicycle design, Thul says that he and other faculty members decided, "it's very important that core mathematics and physics are taken seriously" because "the force distribution on one bicycle frame is going to be different from the force distribution on another frame."  Also, he hopes that this background will help and encourage students to take on another passion of his:  designing and building adaptable bicycles for handicapped people.

But the most important goal of the program, according to Thul, might be to help students develop transferable skills.  "A drivetrain is a drivetrain. Gearing is gearing. Welding is welding," he explained.  They are skills, he says, that can be "used at Red Wing Shoes, Fastenal, Valley Craft" and many other local--and worldwide--manufacturing companies.

The program certainly sounds interesting,and I can't blame Thul for thinking he has the right idea.  After all, he recently received a call from the CEO of a company in Montreal, Quebec.  That CEO wants to hire graduates of his program.

Who Pays For Whom?

This argument has a foundation as weak as many St. Paul street beds, with even more (pot)holes than Shepherd Road.

So wrote Zack Mensinger in a Minn Post editorial. It’s the very point I’ve made to drivers who complain that I, and other cyclists, are taking “their” lanes and parking spaces.

So what is the flimsy logic Mr. Mensinger has exposed? It’s the faulty basis for a mistaken belief that too many non-cyclists hold: They, on four wheels, are paying for roads and other motor-related infrastructure and we, on two (or, sometimes, three) are freeloaders.

The reality, as he points out, is all but diametrically opposite.  In St.Paul, and most other places in the US, drivers don’t come close to paying the cost of streets. 

For one thing, contrary to common belief, most potholes are not caused by freeze-thaw cycles, even in a place with winters as brutal as those in the Minnesota capital. Rather, most of the damage is done by motorized vehicles, especially the bigger and heavier ones. 

Think of it this way:  Sidewalks are subject to the same weather conditions streets incur. Yet we don’t see potholes on sidewalks, which are used by pedestrians.  Even the heaviest cyclist with the heaviest bike is closer in weight to an average-sized pedestrian than to a car, let alone a truck or bus.

Another argument drivers make is that they pay gasoline taxes and vehicle registration fees.  That is true, but those revenues don’t come close to paying for streets and roads. And, if you own a car but use your bike more (admittedly a rare circumstance in the US), you’re still paying the same registration fee.

Someone is sure to bring up tolls for bridges, tunnels and highways—which cyclists don’t pay because we don’t use those facilities except for bridges.  But, as with gas taxes and registration fees, they represent a small part of roadway funding.

So, if those fees and taxes don’t pay for roads and streets, what does?  In Minnesota and most other places, the majority of street and road financing comes from general funds.  They usually include income and property taxes, which we pay whether or not we drive.  In other words, some of the money that’s deducted from my paycheck pays for things I, as a cyclist and non-driver, will never use. 

So, however and for whatever reasons drivers want to rant and rail ar us, they should thank us for subsidizing them.

What's Worse Than A Bad Bike Lane? Bad Bike Lane Regulation!

One of the reasons why I don't like to use bike lanes, at least here in New York, is that motorized vehicles frequently pull in and out, and sometimes park in them.  I've even seen drivers use bike lanes for passing.

The problem is that if a car pulls in, or parks, in the lane, there is no room for you to get around it, especially if the lane is "protected", i.e., has a barrier between it and the street.  At least, if only a painted line separates you from the street, you can veer into the traffic lane.  

Another problem is that drivers often pull into the lane without warning--and, it seems, without looking to see whether cyclists are in the lane. If you are riding in the street and someone makes a sudden turn, you most likely can move over or shift into another lane.  You don't have that option in a bike lane--again, especially a "protected" one. 

I did not notice such problems when I recently rode bike lanes in Paris and Montreal:  Drivers in those cities seem more cognizant that bike lanes are for, well, bikes.  That, or the regulations that prohibit motor vehicles are more strictly enforced.  

On the other hand, it seems that cyclists in other American cities have experiences with bike lanes similar to the ones I and other cyclists have in New York.  Bob Collins, a blogger and news editor for Minnesota Public Radio, offers this:  "The biggest problem with bike lanes in the Twin Cities isn't cyclists; it's people who insist on parking their cars in them."

That statement is particularly notable because during the past few years, Minneapolis has stolen some of Portland's, as well as San Francisco's and New York's, thunder as a "bike friendly" city.  In 2015, Minneapolis was the only US municipality in Copenhagenize Design Company's index of the world's 20 most bike-friendly cities.  Montreal was the only other North American city on the list.

(Copenhagenize's previous indexes were published in 2011 and 2013.  I am guessing they will publish another this year, though I have seen no indication of that on their site.)

Anyway, Mr. Collins shows us that there is no end to the ignorance or hostility of lawmakers when it comes to cycling.  Some want, or claim to want, to make things safer for us.  Others simply don't want to upset drivers, who make up a much larger constituency than cyclists, or see us as renegades, scofflaws or worse.

I don't know which, if either, of those categories includes Minnesota State Representative Duane Quam.  Instead of working on regulations to keep motorists from driving or parking in bike lanes--or, for that matter, from texting or talking on cell phones while driving--he has the brilliant idea of limiting access to bike lanes and deterring young people from cycling.  

At least, that seems to be the intent of the bill he's filed with the State Legislature.  Among other things, it would require anyone who wants to use the bike lanes to take a safety course, register his or her bike and pay an annual $5 fee.

But the most absurd part of that bill stipulates that anyone who rides in a bike lane has to be at least 15 years old.  "It's not clear where people under 15--kids going to school comes to mind--are supposed to ride their bikes," Collins wryly notes.  He also notes another onerous aspect of the bill:  that it applies only to areas with "structures devoted to business, industry or dwelling houses situated at intervals of less than 100 feet for a distance of a quarter mile or more.  

In other words, as Collins astutely observes, it is aimed at Minneapolis and St. Paul.  Representative Byron comes from Byron, a town of 5063 residents--and no bike lanes.

It Was A Nice Ride--While It Lasted

In 2010, Minneapolis became the first major US city (Denver was the first) to launch a bike-share program.

Now the program, known as "Nice Ride," is ending.

The chief reason is an operating deficit, a result of Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Minnesota ending its contract with Lyft, the ride-share company that has operated Nice Ride.  

After reading and hearing a Minnesota Public Radio report, however, I think the end of the road, so to speak, for Nice Ride has as much to do with how bike-share programs have changed and are leaving older programs behind.

For one thing, in many cities, bike share programs have turned into micromobility schemes.  According to Nice Ride executive director Bill Dossett, only 15 percent of micromobility rides were taken on the iconic lime-green pedal bikes.  As in other cities, motor scooters and ebikes have gained popularity.

That helps to confirm two of my suspicions, based on my observation of bike share programs in my hometown of New York and other cities.  

One is that the people drawn to the share programs weren't cyclists. When bike share programs started, they used the bikes for short trips. But, as share programs began to offer ebikes and scooters, users shifted to those conveyances.  

The other is this:  People who use micromobility programs are not using them in place of driving.  Rather, they are substituting their ebike and scooter trips for mass-transit rides--or for short rides with ride-share services like Lyft.  That, I believe, is one reason why Lyft has acquired, or been co-sponsoring or operating micromobility plans in other cities.  In other words, Lyft knows its market.

One thing that ride-share companies and micromobility schemes have in common is this:  People use phone apps to access them--except in Minneapolis.  Dossett says that Nice Ride plans to sell its 1333 bikes and 198 docking stations, but admits that it might difficult to find buyers because the bikes and stations were designed before those apps came into use.  Also, not many people or shops may want the bikes because they have custom parts and, as Dossett explains--and I can attest--"it takes a lot longer to maintain one of those bikes if you just have to fix a flat." (If you've ever had to fix a rear flat on a Raleigh DL-1, or any similar bike with rod brakes, you have some idea of what he's talking about.)  So, he says, the best hope might be to sell some of the still-usable parts

 

By Another Name

Photo by Charlie Kaijo, from the Northwest Arkansas Democrat-Gazzette

We’ve all heard Juliet’s plea to Romeo: “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

There are entire academic sub-disciplines based on a negation of that premise.  So, what I am about to describe is ironic to me, as someone who’s been in the academic world.

When I worked in bike shops, I was classified, and described myself, as an assembler or mechanic.  The same can be said for others who did that work.  The other bike shop employees in shops—usually the larger ones—were salespeople and managers.  In smaller shops, though, employees (and, sometimes, the proprietor) wore multiple hats. Nearly all of us learned on the job:  Little, if any, formal training was available.

That last facet of the industry is changing.  Organizations like the United Bicycle Institute hold training programs and camps.  And community colleges—most recently Northwest Arkansas Community College—have launched programs to prepare students for the bike industry.

What has brought about this development?  Well, I think that one reason is that bicycles are increasingly included in transportation and infrastructure planning.  No one can argue any longer that adult cycling is a passing fad or a recreational activity for the privileged.

I believe there’s another another reason why academic institutions are seeing that the bicycle is not just a way to get around campus or an option to fill a Physical Education requirement—and that preparing students for a career in the industry is a worthy endeavor.  You see, now colleges like Northwest Arkansas and Minnesota State College Southeast are training bicycle technicians.

Now, in a way I can understand the name change: There is more technology, not only in design, but also in making, assembling and repairing new bikes and components than there was when I worked in shops.

I have to wonder, though:  Would the trajectory of my life have been different if I’d been a bicycle technician?

It's The Stories That Matter

During the past couple of days, it's been colder (in NYC) than it's been in, probably, a few years. Today is definitely a tomato-soup-and-grilled-cheese-sandwich kind of day. Now, to all of you dear readers in Minnesota and North Dakota, this might be a beach day (on Lake Superior?  the Red River?).  But you have to remember that those of us in the Big Apple, everything is bigger, brighter, dirtier, hotter, colder, and generally more intense, and everybody is tougher, stronger and smarter, than in any other place in the universe.

Of couse, I jested (Is that a real word?), but only somewhat, with my previous sentence.  But like any true New Yorker, that's what I tell myself.  And the tourist bureau wants you to believe stuff like that so you'll tell yourself that you'll never, ever come here--until you do.  And you meet someone like yours truly.  And someone else like me. (Yes, believe it or not, there such people.)  And another.  And another.  Then you go home and tell your friends that everything in New York is bigger, brighter, dirtier, louder, more intense--and more expensive--but, you know, those New Yorkers are rude and gruff but they have hearts of gold.

My late uncle Joe was that kind of person.  He was born and lived in Brooklyn until he was about 60, when he and my aunt moved upstate. He never lost his straight-out-of-Red Hook  (I bawt a boddle uv alluv earl in da staw on toity-toid and toid*) accent--or his sense of humor and generous spirit.  

I am thinking of him now because of a feature article in a local newspaper of a place I've never seen. Uncle Joe was an avid motorcyclist until he couldn't ride anymore.  I don't recall him riding a bicycle but he talked fondly of the one he rode as an adolescent in the 1950s:  a Schwinn Phantom, in black.  He said the bike always "felt right:"  in spite of its weight, "it moved."  And somehow, he said, the gearing felt just right:  "I felt I could pedal into anything!"

Now, perhaps that last exclamation had more to do with his youthful energy than the bike, or anything else--though, I must say, if his bike was anything like the two black Phantoms I've seen, he probably felt like a real badass when he rode it.  I know, I probably would have, too.

Howard F. Gordon of Lower Burrell, Pennsylvania has one of those bikes.  And, I would guess, another, perhaps in another color.  And other bikes from that period, and earlier--over 100 of them!

From what I read in the article and saw in the accompanying photos, all or most of those bikes are of the balloon-tired "cruiser" variety made by Schwinn, Columbia and many other American companies until the 1960s.  He calls his 1951 Monark "the Cadillac of bikes.

Even though he admits he has "too many" bikes, he's always on the lookout for new treasures, at garage and estate sales.  "There are so many bicycles in garages and attics that are worth money," he explains. Whenever he buys a bike, he disassembles it and cleans every part before reassembling and restoring the bike to something like its original condition.

One of his more interesting observations regards the condition of the bikes he finds.  Generally, he says, girls' bikes are in better condition because they were better cared-for. Boys, he observed, usually rode their bikes into the ground.

That observation is part of what keeps him interested in vintage bikes:  the stories, known or imagined, by them.  "Every one of those bikes had a rider who can tell you something about the adventures they took on it," he explains.  "A bike is a kid's first feeling of freedom."  Sometimes kids pedaled their bikes to places their parents never knew they went. (Can you see me and Uncle Joe winking to each other?)  

In case you were wondering, Gordon rides.  "My wife and I go on riding dates," he relates.  "We stop for ice cream.  We enjoy the nice weather.  It's great exercise."

That sounds like a story behind at least one of his bikes! 

*--Translation: I bought a bottle of olive oil in the store on Thirty-third and Third.

Photos by Louis B. Ruediger, for the Tribune-Review. 

With Every Paper We Deliver

But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver

You've all heard those lines in Don McLean's "American Pie." When someone asked him what the song meant to him, he Said, "That I'd never have to work another day in my life."

For me, it evokes memories of delivering the Asbury Park Press forty (!) years ago, right around the time McLean's masterpiece lorded over the airwaves.  One of my few achievements in life--and one I'm talking about for the very first time--is having been selected "carrier of the week".  No one ever explained the criteria used in making the choice; for all I knew, they just pulled a name out of a hat.

I mean, other carriers had longer routes or delivered more papers.  I was an honor student, but so were some of the other carriers.  And they won bonus prizes the Press offered for one thing and another, as I did.

Stranger things have happened.

I was reminded of that experience, and McLean's song, by a story someone passed on to me.  




I delivered newspapers all through three New Jersey winters.  I guess that's a respectable accomplishment, but I can't hold a candle to Bud Schaefer, who's been delivering 37 copies of the Rochester (MN) Post-Bulletin in the Minnesota winter.

He admits that when the snow piles up, he delivers his papers by car and rides a trainer.

Still, he has my admiration.   And my respect:  He's 86 years old, and my mother taught me to respect my elders.

Our Winter Is Their Sunrise

As I've mentioned in my previous two posts, we in New York are having the coldest weather we've had in two years.  Everybody's talking about it:  I think we were spoiled by such a mild season last year.

Still, we're getting off pretty easy compared to people in other parts of the world.  Either of the past two days would have been utterly balmy in, say, Duluth, Minnesota.  On an average January day, the high temperature there is 18F(-8C)--about what it was yesterday.  Today it was about five degrees (F) warmer.  And our night temperatures have been nowhere near as cold as the  -1F (-18C) folks in Duluth experience on a typical January night.

Aside from the mild winter we had last year, the cold is affecting people in the Big Apple for another reason:  wind.  The wind has, at times, gusted to nearly 30MPH (50KPH), and has steadily blown at 10-12MPH (16-21KPH).  That, of course, gives the cold a "bite" it wouldn't otherwise have.

However, there is one area in which, barring dramatic climate changes, New York winters will never compare with those in Duluth:  snow.  We should be thankful for small things:  The cold and wind here have been dry, and the skies almost preternaturally clear.  (Somehow, skies seem--to me, anyway-- clearer when it's cold.)  The city by Lake Superior, in contrast, is almost always covered with snow at this time of year, mainly because when snow falls, it tends to stay for longer than it does here in the New York islands.

So, I have to give major "props" to any year-round bike commuter in Duluth--like Doug, the author of MnBicycleCommuter.  When the roads are covered with snow, he rides a Surly Pugsley with the widest tires he can fit. 

Now, if I had to ride in the kind of cold Doug regularly experiences, I wouldn't mind a view like that.  I've pedalled into the sunrise:  It put me in a good mood for work.

Doug definitely deserves such views. So does anyone else who rides in those conditions!

Helping Healers Stay Healthy

I have passed the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center many times, by bike and on foot.  Every time, I noticed two things:  few, if any, bikes parked in its vicinity--and how many people in lab coats or scrubs were smoking just outside its doors.

And I've been accused of "ignoring the risks" for cycling in Manhattan, and other parts of New York City. 

(For the record, I've never smoked, wear a helmet, am fully vaccinated and wear a mask when I'm within a couple of meters of any other person.)

Anyway, I have noticed more health-care workers of all kinds riding bicycles.  As a matter of fact, in the pandemic's early days, I gave the old Cannondale M300 mountain bike I fixed up to someone who works in Mount Sinai-Queens, a block and a half up the Crescent Street bike lane from my apartment. His is not the only bike I see parked in the racks outside the facilities.  

I mention all of this because I wonder whether what I'm experiencing and observing is indicative of wider trends, as they say in academic and marketing (!) circles. The question particularly interests me in light of a story that came my way:  the Mayo Clinic, in Rochester, Minnesota, has been named a Bronze-Level Bicycle Friendly Business by the League of American Bicyclists.  In conferring this designation, the LAB cited "improved bike racks, secure parking rooms and tips for employees to ensure a safe and secure ride to and from work" as bases for so categorizing the Mayo. 

We've all heard the admonition, "Healer, heal thyself" (Cura te ipsum.)  It looks like the Mayo is taking steps to encourage its employees to follow that nugget of wisdom.  I hope other health-care facilities are doing the same--which, I admit, can be a difficult thing to do when perhaps no other profession has so many stressed-out people, especially in a time like this.      

Do The Ball And The Wheel Meet?

The Mets, one of this city's local Major League Baseball teams, opened their season.  The city's other local side, the Yankees, did likewise yesterday.

Bicycles parked at Target Field, home of the Minnesota Twins

While I don't watch baseball (or other team sports) games nearly as much as I once did, I'll confess that I still get excited over the start of the MLB season.  In part, it has to do with my enthusiasm for the game itself:  No other team sport, save perhaps for the one the rest of the world calls football, rewards strategic thinking and pure-and-simple intelligence.

But much of my excitement also has to do with the fact that those first regular season games are as much a sign of spring as the blooming crocuses.  And, of course, spring means more and better cycling--in most years, anyway.

One thing I've noticed is that, in adults, there's very little, if any, correlation between participation in, or being a fan of, cycling and playing or following baseball--or, for that matter, any of the other major team sports (basketball, hockey and American football).  A committed cyclist, whether or not professional, is more likely to be a runner, swimmer, ice skater (speed or figure) or skier than an infielder, linebacker or point guard.  

Perhaps even more interestingly, the realms of cycling and what the rest of the world calls football (soccer) almost never meet, even in those countries that are powerhouses in both sports.  

Belgium is one of the best examples I can think of.  Perhaps no other country has turned out more cycling champions in proportion to its population.  And, having been there, I can tell you that almost everywhere in the country, at almost any time, there is some cycling event or another taking place, whether a race, randonnee, audax, tour or commemorative ride of some sort.  

And, although it has not won the World Cup or the Olympics, Belgium has given the world as many fine footballers per capita as any nation.  That country's best are found on team rosters in the world's elite leagues, including the British Premiership, the German Bundesliga and the top Italian and Spanish leagues.

Still, I cannot come up with the name of any Belgian--or, for that matter, any other European or any South American--who excelled at both sports, or who even excelled at one and was better-than-average at the other.  

Now, it may well be that to excel in countries with such strong competiton in any sport requires complete commitment, leaving little or no time for others.  It may also have to do with the timing of the seasons:  After all, cycling and soccer seasons are on roughly the same timelines, while there is little overlap between ski or skate and bike seasons.  And some sports, like swimming and track-and-field, are more-or-less year-round, so athletes from other sports can compete during their off-seasons.

Somehow, though, I suspect there's another reason.  It may have to do with the fact that cycling is mainly an individual sport.  Even when a rider is on a team, he or she still is competing for individual honors--or to help the team's leader do the same--in ways that athletes in team sports do not.  Also, riding, whether as a member of a team or in a tour, is still a more solitary experience than, say, being a quarterback or shortstop.

What Will He See On This Ride?

In my university, there was a writing instructor who, on the first day of class, told students to imagine they had one hour left to live.  What would matter at that time?  What secrets would you reveal?  What would you want to do?

The instructor didn't specify how you were to "die":  actually, he didn't care about that.  What he really wanted was for students to think about what really mattered to them, and to strip away what he called "emotional blackmail."

I got that assignment.  As you might expect, I wrote some silly and pretentious stuff.  But I also wrote about a couple of things I hadn't told anybody up to that time of my life.  I recall that one thing for which I was thankful was that my senses were still intact.  Even then, I feared going blind or deaf, or losing a part of my body, more than death itself, as I do now.

Hmm...If he really wanted to rock my boat, perhaps he should have told me to imagine I would go blind in an hour.  What would I want to see?

Jason Folie is doing that assignment, if you will.  The 35-year-old Minnesota roofer and remodeler was diagnosed with chroideremia, a rare degenerative retinal disease.  Its sufferers, mainly men, lose their sight over a period of time.  For the moment, Mr. Folie deals with night-blindness and a loss of peripheral vision, though his central vision is still clear.

Jason Folie, taken by Krista Kramer

When he was first diagnosed he, understandably, got depressed.  "I didn't see the point of settling down because I didn't want someone to take care of me," he wrote on his fundraising page.  "I didn't see the point of having a family if I couldn't see what my kids look like."  But, he explains, he found hope after participating in a research trial.  "I think there is something I can do to help," he says.

One of the things he's doing involves a bike ride.  A long one:  2900 miles (4700 kilometers), to be exact.  On his birthday--Monday, 7 January--he plans to embark from San Diego, California and pedal the Southern Tier Trail (developed by Adventure Cycling Association to Saint Augustine, Florida.  He expects to arrive some time in mid-March.  His fiancee, Krista Kramer, will follow him in a camper and stop in towns along the way to meet with the media and raise awareness for the cause.

After the ride, they will hold a fundraising dinner in Waseca, their hometown.  Guests will wear blindfolds as they eat.

Folie hopes that his and Kramer's efforts will raise $100,000.  He's donated $35,000 of his own money, hopes the rest will come in the form of pledges, which can be made here.

Whatever comes of his efforts, let's hope it's not the last thing he sees!

A Detour From The Worlds' Fairs

Just recently, the Big Apple (a.k.a. my hometown) celebrated the 75th and 50th Anniversaries of its most recent Worlds' Fairs.  (It also hosted one of the earliest Fairs, in 1853.)  As I have mentioned in one of my earliest posts, I attended the 1964 Fair with my family when I was--well, let's say I was very young.  Very, very young.


 

I'd love to say that my family and I rode there together.  Well, my parents were like about 99.99 percent of American adults of the time in that they didn't ride bikes.  And of the Valinotti children, I was the only one who had graduated from tricycles.  I think my youngest brother was only a few months old when we went to the Fair.

But someone named Jay Kenney rode there. In fact, he pedaled about 1300 miles to get there:  He started in Richfield, Minnesota, with a group of cyclists about his age (16 at the time) on an American Youth Hostels tour.

I stumbled over his photo album when I was researching something else about the Worlds' Fairs.  But it made my day.  This photo--of the Ludington Light in Michigan--was worth the "detour".



Now, what was I researching again?

A Bicycle: A Memory Of His Father

Thomas Avenia is often credited, along with a few other people, with keeping the flame of adult cycling alive during its "Dark Ages."  He is also credited, again with a few others, of stoking that flame into the Bike Boom that began in the late 1960s.  Among other things, he--who rode in the six-day races and the Tour of Somerville--was one of the first importers of Campagnolo components, Frejus bicycles and other high-end gear from Europe.

He had a shop in an Italian enclave of East Harlem, New York until the 1980s, when he moved to Stony Point, just south of Bear Mountain in New York state.  I passed that shop a few times and stopped to hear his stories of racing, his old shop, his wife who died half a century earlier and his thoughts about politics and history.  

He lived well into his 90s.  After he died, his grandchildren took over his shop and moved it again--to Haverstraw, a town a few miles down the Hudson River.  One thing I recall about that shop was its "shrine" to Tom, which included the Frejus track bike--with a Mafac front brake--he rode.  To my knowledge, the grandkids didn't ride it:  For one thing they, like most young riders of the time, were mountain bike enthusiasts.  But I think they understood what that bike meant to their grandfather--and people like me, who understand that he is one reason why we have anything that resembles a bicycle culture in some parts of the United States.

Since then, I've wondered how many bicycles have been preserved as momentos, monuments or shrines to their owners.  While Tom's grandkids didn't ride his bike mainly because they rode mountain bikes, I can't help but to think that they saw his Frejus as a kind of relic to be treated with reverence.  When an avid cyclist or collector leaves a bike or a collection behind, what does it mean to whoever receives it?

For a 15-year-old boy in Rochester, Minnesota, the orange-and-black Scott Spark SC 900 bike was not only fun to ride; it was a way he re-connected with his father, who rode and passed it on to him.  Karl Vielhaber passed away on the 13th from a brain tumor that was diagnosed less than a year earlier.  He, his wife Jennifer and kids moved to Rochester from Wisconsin to be closer to the Mayo Clinic.

Last week, she went into their garage, only to discover that the bike was gone.  That meant, not only that the bike was stolen, but that someone had entered the family's property uninvited.

Still, Jennifer insists that if the bike is returned, she will not press charges. Send information to: findkarlsbike@gmail.com.)   She wants, not only the machine itself, but the memories--which include his joy in riding it--it represents for her and her kid. 

There's A Bike Mechanic In The Family!

My high school had a vocational-technical ("vo-tech") program that trained students to work as auto mechanics, beauticians and as other skilled trades- and craft-people.

That high school served a fairly large township that included everything from mansions with Cadillacs in their driveways (In those days, you had as much of a chance, on any given day, of seeing a BMW or Mercedes as you did of meeting a member of the Royal Family.) to storm-battered bungalows with tousled kids tumbling on bristly lawns.  What they had in common was aspiration, whether from the parents or the kids themselves.  

Such aspiration wasn't limited to economic mobility:  People wanted to increase their status and reputation.  A decal from a prestigious college or university on the rear window of a family's car meant that the parents "did something right" in raising their child; dirty hands and clothes meant that the kid didn't work hard--or simply wasn't smart--enough and were seen as signs of poor parenting.

So, the success of my high school, and many others, was measured by the percentage of our graduates who went to college--never mind that the kids who became auto mechanics or plumbers or beauticians could make as much money as those who became educated professionals.  Training for one of those trades was seen as the "loser track", in contrast to "the college track" and other more prestigious paths in the school.

Because such scenarios played out all over the US, many high schools ended their vo-tech programs and new schools opened without them.  Young people and their families continued to equate success with graduating from college and entering white-collar professions.  In the meantime, auto mechanics, beauticians and the like got older and employers had a hard time finding replacements, just as those jobs became more technically sophisticated.  

Then college tuitions started to rise at a much faster rate than prices in general. (My salary hasn't kept pace--it's not even close!)  And companies figured out that their office work could be automated or relocated just as easily as assembly-line jobs.  So, the college degree that costs so much more than it once did is no longer the ticket to a "good" job and middle-class life it once was.

Also, because people had a harder time getting good jobs, they started fixing stuff--including cars and appliances-- they would have tossed or replaced earlier.  Now, as a result, some young people and their families are starting to realize that their may well be more of a future--especially for a kid who doesn't like to sit still and read--in the kinds of work people in my generation were taught to disdain.

Another result of what I've described is that people are riding bikes to work and school.  Those bikes need to be kept running, and not everyone has the time or inclination to adjust their brakes or shifters, or fix their flats.  At the same time, bikes are getting more technically sophisticated.  This means mechanics, who are increasingly referred to as "technicians" will need to be more skilled.

As a bike shop owner, Berri Michel is certainly aware of what I'm saying.  She had trouble finding good employees for Bicycle Trip, her Santa Cruz, California shop.  So she did what any desperate employer might do:  She trained people.  Specifically, she showed high-school students how to fix bikes.  That was back in 2007.

That was the beginning of Project Bike Tech, in which students earn academic credit for learning how to repair bicycles.  Since then, it has expanded to other schools in California and three other schools in Colorado and Minnesota plan to start similar programs soon.  The scope of the course, which spans four semesters, has also grown.  Now students learn interviewing, resume-writing and team-building techniques in addition to adjusting headsets and truing wheels.

Ms. Michel says that in the class, students are introduced to other bicycle-industry careers such as fabrication, marketing, sales and graphic design.  And, because students don't sacrifice their academic training to learn the bike trade, they are also ready to go to college or enter other careers when they graduate.  Some even pursue other trade careers like construction and auto mechanics because "they discover that they love working with their hands," says Project Bike Tech director Mercedes Ross.

Could the day come when parents proudly announce, "There's a bike mechanic in the family!"

What Was This Driver Doing On The Road?

 Someone drives illegally. They* strike and kill a cyclist.

That driver has been sentenced to…

**

…five months in jail. Oh, and the badass judge tacked 40 hours of “community service” and “no more than five years” of probation.

Call me cynical, but I think the judge handed a sentence, light as it is yet still harsher than most for similar infractions because:

• the cyclist was a priest and
• as Paul Walsh, a reporter for the Minneapolis  Star-Tribune noted, Trejean D. Curry had “a penchant for driving without a license.”

A “penchant for driving without a license.” According to a court filing, Curry has never had a driver’s license in his home state of Minnesota. Yet, by the afternoon of 25 October 2021, when he plowed into Rev. Dennis Dempsey from behind, Curry had accumulated “10 convictions for operating a vehicle while his driving privileges were revoked, six for lack of insurance, two for speeding, two for instructional permit violations, one for expired tabs and one for passing another vehicle in a prohibited area.”

Rev. Dennis Dempsey R.I.P.

All of that when he didn’t have a license? To me, the most pertinent question is:  How and why was this guy even on the road on the afternoon of 25 October 2021?

Oh, and he had the gall to claim that Dempsey had swerved in front of him. Skid marks and other evidence pointed to the exact opposite:  Curry swerved, accidentally or not, into Dempsey’s path on the should of the road where the driver and cyclist were traveling in the same direction.

I will end with two more questions: Will the jail sentence, “community service” and probation—even if they are served in full—change Curry’s behavior.  And what sort of sentence will Judge Dannia Edwards mete out the next time she is faced with a scofflaw, or simply careless, driver who kills a cyclist?

*—I have used a gender-neutral pronoun to eliminate, as much as I can, any biases.

**—If you were expecting me to say something like “a $50 fine” or “two points on the driver’s license,” I understand.

Recycling Bicycles: For Them, It's Play

One day back in the mists of time (or, at least, before I met her), my friend Millie saw a cat on her way home from work.

She took that cat home.   By the time I met her, she had a few living in her yard and basement.  Also, she was going to an industrial area near her house to feed the strays--where she rescued a few more cats.

Among them were Max, my loving orange friend who died last year, and the second cat named Charlie I've had in my life.  Other people also have feline companions Millie found--sometimes on her own, other times as a volunteer with a local animal rescue organization.

(Marlee was also rescued from that same industrial area, but by some workers in a bakery who, in turn, gave her to one of Millie's friends who was, at that time, rescuing animals.)

So, what does that story have to do with a blog about bicycling?  Well, just as my friend Millie became a "cat lady" because a chance encounter with a stray, Michael and Benita Warns now oversee a bicycle rescue program, if you will, that started with a bicycle they salvaged from scrap. Or, more precisely, a chatty 6-year-old neighbor named Zeek asked whether Michael could fix a bike he found in the trash.

Fast-forward eleven years, and Mr. Michael Recycles Bicycles is, every year, giving away hundreds of bikes assembled from the 10 garages full of bikes and parts they have in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Michael and Benita Warns. Photo by James Walsh for the Minneapolis Star-Tribune

Benita, a retired postal employee, is the president of the organization.  Michael does the mechanical work. Both are mechanical engineers by training, so they were able not only to put bikes together, but also figure out ways to make them work better.

Their project really took off after they volunteered for their neighborhood clean-up.  When they saw how many bicycles ended up in trash heaps in their neighborhood, they figured--correctly--that lots of bicycles were also being discarded in other neighborhoods.  

The way their project differs from other recycle-a-bicycle programs is that anyone can get a bicycle from them.  There are no forms to fill out.  They don't ask about your income; if you call, they ask only your height, gender and what type of bicycle you want.  It really does seem magical.

The Warneses don't take a salary, and volunteers help them, there are still expenses.  As an example, even with all of the bikes and parts they have, they occasionally have to buy stuff.  As someone who's worked in a bike shop, I'm guessing that they often need tires and tubes, which are the most commonly unusable parts from old bikes.  

To help pay for their program, they run a small shop where they sell some of their bicycles, as well as parts and accessories.  They also do repairs for $20 an hour--a bargain in today's economy.

For all of the labor they put into this project, the Warneses always want to make one thing perfectly clear.

Benita:  "Nobody works in this place."

Michael:  "We play with bicycles."

Out Of Season, Again

Earlier today, I wrote about a "winter" ride in a place that doesn't have winter--at least, not in any way people in my part of the world--let alone places like Minnesota and Canada and Scotland and Finland--experience it.  In other words, I was writing about a warm-weather ride in January.

Well, I had the opportunity to experience such a thing.  If you've been reading this blog for a while, you might have guessed where I am.  

Yes, that is the ocean on the horizon.  Of course, there are places not far from my apartment where I can ride up the slope of a bridge and, at its apex, gaze out into an expanse of sea and sky:  the Veterans' Memorial Bridge from Broad Channel to Rockaway Beach, for example.  But yesterday I rode in a place where I could do it in shorts, sans jacket.

Here is another clue to where I am:

They don't sell fishing equipment in the Key Food or Stop & Shop supermarkets in Rockaway Beach--or, to my knowledge,anyplace else in New York.  For that matter, you can't buy a hunting rifle--or any other kind of firearm--from the Walmart in the Green Acres Shopping Mall, just over the city line in Nassau County. But you can get them in the "Wally World" about two kilometers from where I am now.

Yes, I am in Florida, for my more-or-less annual visit with my parents.  I got here this morning.  After the snow that turned to wind and rain during the past week, it is almost surreal to ride in bright sunlight and into a warm breeze that would later blow at my back as I spun and glided up Route A1A, beside dunes covered with sea oats and cacti that rippled and echoed the rustling hiss of the roiling tides.

Then again, it might be just as strange, or even stranger, to encounter unseasonably warm weather when I return to New York!

His Freedom For A Reflector

 If there is a warrant out for you, make sure your bicycle has an intact reflector if you ride in West Des Moines, Iowa.

Now, I realize that this lesson or moral or whatever you want to call it applies to a very small number of you, my dear readers. I suspect (oddly appropriate word choice, isn’t it?) that not many of you have cycled in West Des Moines, Iowa (I haven’t) and, probably, even fewer, if any, of you have warrants for your arrest (something I don’t recommend).

But I have chosen to relate this story for its “Beware!” and “You never know…” elements.

George Hartleroad (Sounds like the name of the street he was riding on, doesn’t it?) was pedaling along a road in the Midwestern community when he was stopped for something that, to my knowledge, has never resulted in a pull-over here in New York. I don’t think it’s even been the ostensible reason why any NYPD officer halted some young man who was Riding While Black.

What was Mr. Hartleroad’s infraction?  His bike lacked a reflector.

But whatever trouble he might’ve been in was nothing compared to what awaited him when he gave a false name and the officers couldn’t find it. Finally, he gave his name, which revealed that he failed to report to a halfway house In Wisconsin in 1995.

“You’ve been on the run for longer than two out of the three officers here on the street have been alive,” said one of the arresting officers.

Turns out, a dozen years earlier, Mr. Hartleroad violently attacked a Minnesota woman in Chippewa County, Wisconsin. He served prison time for that assault before he was released to the halfway house he left and to which he didn’t return.

What can I say?  First I’ll reiterate what I said earlier: Don’t do anything that could result in a warrant. Second: If you’re going to get arrested, make sure it’s for something worthwhile like protesting injustice. And finally:  If you’re in West Des Moines, Iowa, be sure your bike has a reflector.