Will It Take A Virus To Bring Us Our Due?

During any crisis, actual and self-styled pundits weigh in about how said crisis will change some aspect of our culture, society or economy.

In that sense, the COVID-19 pandemic has been no different.  Wherever I tune, click or listen, someone is talking about how shutdowns and lockdowns will forever change the ways we live, work, eat, shop--and, yes, even make love.

Of course, it will be a while before we know which prognosticators are correct.  I hope that at least one of their forecasts comes true.  Specifically, it's one that appears in Tree Hugger.

That title--and the fact that I'm talking about it--is a giveaway that it has something to do with bicycles.  The opening line of Lloyd Alter's article sums it up:  They are not toys, they are transportation, and they can be a big help in this crisis.

Alter, however, is not merely making a prediction or expressing a hope.  Rather, he describes the way the definition of an "essential business" has evolved during the crisis.  He mentions that when Governor Andrew Cuomo declared a shutdown of "non-essential" businesses in New York State, he included bicycle shops--but not auto-related enterprises--in that category.  London Breed made a similar pronouncement when she ordred a lockdown in San Francisco, where she is the Mayor.  After pressure from folks like me, she and Cuomo revised their definition of "essential" businesses to include bike shops.  Not only is cycling one of the few outdoor activities in which one can engage in a dense urban area while keeping a safe "social distance", some essential workers, like food deliverers, use them to perform their jobs while others, like hospital employees, are using them to get to their jobs as trains and buses become more crowded due to service cutbacks.

As Alter points out, this crisis might finally show that bicycles aren't just a viable alternative to other forms of transportation; they should be considered integral parts of transportation planning.  Even after the virus is "defeated," many people will be reluctant to return to commuting in trains, buses or other shared vehicles.

That said, as I mentioned the other day, some shops (including one of my favorites) have chosen to remain closed, or to see customers only by appointment.  I understand their decision, just as I am happy that some shops have remained open.

Where Has The Rider Gone?

Had you fallen asleep, say, a month ago and awakened today, you might check your calendar to be sure that it is indeed Wednesday, not Sunday or a holiday.   Your favorite stores, restaurants and public venues are closed, or open for only a few hours.  And there's practically no motorized traffic on the streets, save for men--almost all of them are men, and immigrants at that--delivering food on motorized or electric bikes.  

I also notice, surprisingly, fewer people on bicycles.  Since cycling is still allowed, as long as cyclists keep their "social distance" (2 meters or 6 feet), this is somewhat surprising.  Also, I would think that some people who still have to go to work might ride bikes, whether because the buses or trains they normally take are running less often or not at all, or because they wouldn't want to get on a bus or train--or share a car with anybody.

But the Citibike racks are close to full, and bikes that are normally parked overnight have remained on the streets for weeks.  I wonder whether their owners ride only to work or school, or are too scared to go out. (I've heard more than a few people say they planned to shut themselves in this week.)  Or--might they be sick, or worse?

Across the street from that Schwinn chained to the lightpole, I saw a sign that it is indeed early spring:

As the cliche goes, life springs eternal, even in the face of disease and death.

Walnut Avenue, Cherry Blossoms and Hyacinths

After doing the work I needed to do, I took a ride.  Since I wanted to head out of the city, even if for a little bit, I cycled north and followed, coincidentally or not, part of my normal commute.

Well, more or less.  I pedaled up Walnut Avenue, which parallels Willow Avenue, the street with the bike lane I normally ride up to 138th Street.  I chose Walnut because it goes all the way to 141st, where I can make the turn underneath the Bruckner Expressway and pick up Southern Boulevard.  

Both Avenues lace the heart of the Port Morris industrial district in the Bronx.  Normally, when I ride along Willow--even as early as 6 am--I see trucks and vans pulling in and out of the factories, warehouses and luncheonettes.  Walnut also teems with activity--on a normal day, that is.

No day during the past two weeks or so has been "normal."  Of course, that's nice for cyclists:   The scene I rolled through looked more an early hour of Sunday morning than just after noon on a weekday.  

I must say, though, that the few people I saw were friendly:  They waved and smiled.  More important, I detected a kind of recognition--like what I sense from people I see by the ocean in the middle of winter.  Just behind me, on Randall's Island, cherry blossoms were pulsing their pink flowers and purple, blue and white hyacinths colored plots fenced in the fields and perfumed the air.  

All of that color, and those scents, felt like beautiful acts of defiance in a world forced into silence.  My bike ride felt something like that, though I did it for my own pleasure--and health, mental as well as physical.

Vital But Still Closed

The other day, Hal Ruzal and I exchanged text messages and e-mails.  He is a co-founder and former chief mechanic of Bicycle Habitat.  He also turned me on to Mercian bikes.

Now he’s living in New Mexico.  He told me he’s riding every    day but “there’s nowhere to go at night.”  That’s not a surprise, given that the same situation pertains here in New York, which has more restaurants, bars, clubs and the like than just about anyplace else on Earth.

Anyway, I’d shared that Habitat is closed, even though bike shops are permitted to remain open.  He said Charlie, the owner, was making a “wise move.”  I agreed, though I am sad about it.  

Bike shops are vital now because cycling is one of the few ways one can go to work—or simply get out—while maintaining “social distance.”  On the other hand, some shops—such as Habitat’s Chelsea branch, are tight spaces in which it would be difficult, if not impossible, to accommodate more than one or two customers at a time, especially if they’re bringing bikes in for repairs or overhauls.

Also, another characteristic Habitat Chelsea shares with other shops—including the ones in which I worked—is that mechanic’s areas are extremely tight:  Mechanics, as often as not, work at arm’s length, or less, from each other.

In that sense, Habitat and other bike shops are like other vital businesses such as grocery stores:  Their customers can distance themselves from each other, but their workers can’t.

Swiss In Pink

What countries are known for high-quality products?

Japan, Germany, France, Italy, England and the Scandinavian lands usually come to mind.  So, sometimes, does the United States.

Also:  Switzerland.  It doesn't produce the range of items that come out of the other nations I've mentioned.  But one rarely, if ever, hears complaints about Swiss products--including bicycles and bicycle parts.

Now tell me, what countries come to mind when I say "Switzerland"?  

Chances are, pink isn't one of them--unless, perhaps, you're talking about some Alpine wildflowers.  Certainly, it's hard to think of a Swiss-made piece of precision machining finished in pink.

So imagine my surprise when I saw this crankset from Edco, possibly the most renowned of Swiss bike component makers:

At first, I thought it was a joke, that someone photoshopped it.  Turns out, such a thing was made--with a bottom bracket to match.

If Michael Sweatman, the creator of the Disrealigears website, were to include his scope beyond derailleurs, he surely would include this in his "A Riot of Colour" section--with the Ofmega derailleur in rosa!

A Ride Through Change

Whenever I look, wherever I tune in, someone is writing or talking about how the COVID-19 epidemic is changing, or will or could change, some aspect of the world.  

As an example, many people who still have jobs are working online.  It's hard not to imagine that some of those jobs will permanently shift online, or become hybrids, if you will.  On the other hand, many people who have lost their jobs have to wonder whether their jobs--or their employers--will return.


One benefit of this crisis, if you will, is that some people are starting to see the real inequities in the health care system. I am talking, of course, about the people who lost their insurance or never had it in the first place. I also mean that the epidemic is highlighting how people are treated differently by the health care insurers and providers based on their gender, race or other factors.  

(Also, actual and would-be authoritarians are using the crisis for their own ends.  Donald Trump is trying to do this; he's had little success--thankfully--because of the limited powers of the US presidency and his own ineptitude.  But other leaders have found ways to use the crisis to disenfranchise or oppress groups of people, as Viktor Orban of Hungary did the other day when he used the epidemic as a pretext for ending legal recognition of transgender people.)

The virus is indeed changing the world.  I find myself thinking about that as I ride, and see change all around me.

As I rode through East Harlem, I see the embers of a culture that once burned bright but has flickered away:

The area of East Harlem east of Third Avenue once held one of this city's--and nation's--largest Italian-American communities.  I must say it's odd, to say the least, to see an engraved sign for an Italian commercial bank over a 7-11.  Then again, it's still odd for me to see a 7-11 in a dense urban neighborhood.

I saw another sign of change a bit earlier, after I crossed the High Bridge from the Bronx into Manhattan and followed a path to a bluff.

That building in the distance, on the right--or what it housed--inspired one of the most famous films of the past 40 years.  It also helped to saddle the Bronx with a reputation its leaders are trying to shed.

Inside those walls was the Four-Four:  the 44th Precinct of the New York Police Department.  Its nickname became the title of the movie I've mentioned:  Fort Apache.  

While it's hardly an elite part of town, the neighborhood of the Four-Four isn't exactly the one in Fort Apache, The South Bronx.  Likewise, East Harlem isn't Little Italy, Uptown, and won't be what it is today for very long--whether or not COVID-19 has anything to do with it.

What will I see on a future ride?

Riding Solo Through A Dream

It’s windy and a bit chilly for this time of year.  Still, it’s odd to have Fort Totten Park almost entirely to myself.

Don’t get me wrong:  It was nice to contend with almost no traffic, even on the streets around LaGuardia Airport, on my way here.  But it’s hard not to wonder, if only for a moment, whether I am cycling through a necropolis.

I don’t often remember my dreams.  The few that I recall for longer than the morning-after might be closer to nightmares.  Like this one:  I was walking along a street like the one in the working-class Brooklyn neighborhood of my childhood.  One difference:  My neighborhood was flat, but on the street in my dream, a row of houses, all splintered shingles and bubbled bricks, skirted the edge of a bluff.  There seemed to be nothing beyond it but flickerings of dusk.

Inside those houses, people—shadows, really—drifted by the windows—all of them opened, a little.  I knew, somehow, that soon, none of those people would be in those houses.  But I could not tell them.  I could not tell anybody.

I had that dream many years ago—in effect, in another life. This is not the first time I’ve recalled it, though it makes sense that it would come back to me now—even if I can’t remember what I ate yesterday!

The News Isn't A Joke, But....

This season, no one has been disqualified from a bike race because of a drug violation.

All right, that's not quite an April Fool's joke.  After all, races have been cancelled or postponed because of the COVID-19 epidemic.

We all hope it ends soon. But now the CDC is worried because, as the weather warms up, deer ticks will come out.  Some people will get Corona with Lyme!

Taking To--Or Over--The Street

Every time an elected official takes to the airwaves, I fear the worst, even if I know what they're about to say might be for the best.  I know the virus has to be stopped, but I worry that we might not be allowed out of our apartments, ever again.  

(Then again, if they confine us, they might have to enact a permanent rent freeze--or declare that housing is a human right and give it to us for free.)

So far, we still can go outside, as long as we keep our distance from each other.  Now the city is doing something that, at first glance, seems counterintuitive:  It's closing off some streets to traffic.  It makes sense when you realize that pedestrians, cyclists and all other kinds of non-motorized travelers have free reign over the street.  The idea, apparently, is to get people outside but still offer them space.

I like it.  If anything, I wouldn't mind if this street closure were extended:

It's a stretch of 34th Avenue in Jackson Heights, about 5 kilometers from where I live. 

It's also a kilometer, if that, from LaGuardia Airport.  While I enjoyed the nearly-empty street, it was a bit odd to ride  through that part of town without seeing a plane overhead. 

You Know The Drill

So why am I writing a post about drillium when the world is going to hell in a handbasket?

Well, I could get cute (as if I could, at my age) and say that COVID-19 is poking holes--or exposing them--in the structures of our societies.  Or some such thing.

But, truthfully, I'm writing this post because I can't say anything you haven't heard about the corona virus epidemic--and because somebody sent me this picture:

Apparently, someone in Germany is selling that stem on eBay.  Don't worry:  I'm not going to buy it.  It caught my notice because a stem is one component I would never think of drilling.  I've seen fluted, milled and pantographed goosenecks.  But I can't remember the last time I saw a drilled-out stem.

Mind you, I'm not anti-drillium.  In fact, I've seen some lovely pieces, including this Stronglight crankset:

But sometimes folks get silly with their drills (Hmm..."silly with their drills"...such an odd phrase).  You really have to wonder what purpose saving a couple of grams actually serves.

Then again, how many people actually believed that it was about function or performance?