A Discount, Because "They're Owed"

 When Willie Mays played stickball with the boys in his neighborhood--Harlem--the media spun it as a story about his love of kids, and how they loved him.

While they certainly had affection for each other, the real reason "The Say Hey Kid" was hitting and catching what those kids hit and threw wasn't that the Polo Grounds, then the Giants' home field, was only a few blocks away.

Rather, he was on those upper Manhattan streets because, even with all his celebrity, he couldn't live anywhere else:  Realtors in other neighborhoods, or other towns, wouldn't rent or sell to him, not because they were Brooklyn Dodger fans, but  because he's black.

Although New York didn't have Jim Crow laws, there was nothing to stop them  from such practices--or to charge a black buyer more than they'd charge a white client.

While it's not possible to change the past, some people are trying, in the ways they know how, to make amends.  Grant Petersen, president and founder of Rivendell Bicycle Works, is one such person.

He's offering "reparations pricing" on some of the company's bikes and frames.  In a way, it's a revival of a practice Rivendell engaged in for two years until the COVID epidemic:  Black customers were offered discount for purchases in the company's Walnut Creek, CA store.  Starting on Monday, 12 October, that discount will be offered on select bikes, nationwide.

Petersen's response to those who object that some customers will "pretend to be black" is, in essence, "I don't care."  He's offering the discount to Black customers, he says, "not because it's a nice thing to do" but because "they're owed."

I'm not surprised that he's getting backlash about this:  Some folks believe that others "deserve" similar discounts for all sorts of reasons, such as being first responders.  I don't disagree with them, but Petersen says that he's trying to keep things "simple."  How simple it will be to identify Black customers, I don't know.  But I respect him for trying to achieve some measure of justice in some segment of the world.

I Should Be Happy For This, But...

This is what I see, now, outside my window. 

It's an urban millennial's dream.  I'm supposed to be happy. 

I'm not the only one who isn't--and not only because I'm not a millennial.  Some of my neighbors hate it. I can't say I blame them, even if their reasons are very different from mine.

A few weeks ago, the Crescent Street bike lane "opened for business," if you will.  On paper, it sounds like something every cyclist in northwestern Queens (and, probably, other parts of this city) dreamed of:  a direct bike route from the Robert F. Kennedy to the Ed Koch (or Triborough to 59th Street, to old-time New Yorkers) Bridges.  

Now, if I were still riding to the college every day, or I were still working in Midtown or Downtown Manhattan, I might have welcomed the lane--had it taken a different route and been constructed differently.

One common complaint was that drivers on Crescent routinely exceeded the speed limit by a lot.  It's not hard to see why:  This stretch of Crescent is a long straightway not unlike some race tracks.  And, as I mentioned, it connects the two bridges--as well as the Grand Central Parkway (which goes to the airports) to the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and, in effect, four of the city's five boroughs.  That is one reason it was so much used by taxi and car-service drivers, many of whose "home" offices and garages are near the RFK Bridge.

Even so, I didn't mind riding on Crescent:  Because the street sliced through the neighborhood like an exclamation point, and I knew the drivers' habits, traffic was predictable.  Plus, the drivers who regularly used Crescent knew that the neighborhood is residential and  we--cyclists and pedestrians--also used the street.

But now there's only one traffic lane, so drivers can't maneuver--and become very short-tempered and resentful, sometimes endangering cyclists out of spite. Worse, they can't see you behind the row of parked cars.  These are  real problems when taxis, livery cars and other "work" vehicles pull into the lane to discharge or pick up passengers, as they often do by the hospital.  If you're riding down from the RFK bridge, and you don't run into red lights, it's easy to build up speed. When an ambulance or truck pulls into the lane, you have no choice but to take a hard right into the traffic lane--or to end up in back of the ambulance!

One more thing:  When cars parked along the curb, where the lane is now, they served as a buffer between traffic (bicycle and motor) and pedestrians crossing the street. Even if a careless pedestrian wandered, mid-block, into traffic, he or she had to cross through the parked cars.  Now, those same pedestrians step directly into the bike lane as they're looking at their screens, oblivious to their surroundings.  

Some of my neighbors would love to see the lane removed.  I agree with them, almost.  They complain that it's less convenient, or even "impossible" to park.  To me, it's more dangerous--for me, for them and for pedestrians.  The Crescent Street lane, I believe, would be better on another street:  one that parallels Crescent (28th or 30th come to mind) from the RFK Bridge to Queensborough Plaza, where it's easy to access the Ed Koch Bridge.

 

Garrett Lai, R.I.P.

His desk was a yard sale of books, magazines, bike parts, assorted sheets of paper, journals and probably at least one classified Pentagon report.  

No, that's not a description of my work space though, at times, it would have come close to being one.  Rather, it's how "Padraig" of The Cycling Independent recalled his friend and onetime colleague Garrett Lai.

If that name sounds familiar, you probably were reading Bicycling! and Bicycle Guide during the 1990s and early 2000s, when he was an editor at each of those publications.  Or, a few years earlier, you might've been perusing copies of Road and Track magazine.  You may also have been one of the world's more arcane subcultures (this, coming from someone--yours truly--who's spent time in the academic world):  the California community of vintage typewriter enthusiasts.

(Garrett Lai, left, with Yeti Cycles co-founder John Parker)

I was unaware of that last group of people until today.  But it makes perfect sense that Garrett Lai was part of it:  He was all about anything mechanical and anything that could be expressed in, or used to communicate, words.  A self-described "failed engineer" who could make the most technical details comprehensible, and even readable (much like the much-missed Jobst Brandt and Frank Berto), Lai had, in Padraig's words, "more sides than a round-cut diamond."

But he passed away, at age 54, last week.  The coroner is still determining his cause of death. 

How Fast Did You Ride Today?

This is why I don't use electronic devices while cycling:

 

Will They Demand To See Our Papers?

 "Rob in VA," who's commented on some of my posts, notes increased aggression from drivers.

A couple of days ago, I posited that some of that aggression--and the increased hostility we, and peaceful protesters, are experiencing -- has at least something to do with the President's implicit wink and nod to haters.

If you think I'm being paranoid, check out what happened to someone who tried to ride through Portland's Delta Park:

Earlier in Delta Park, some yelled ‘get him’ to a bicyclist passing through and then pursued and stopped and harassed him - before letting him pass thru pic.twitter.com/I5KUReLQ0R

— Maxine Bernstein (@maxoregonian) September 26, 2020

 

Those folks had no authority to do what they did. Later that day, though, some people with authority--namely, Portland Police Bureau officers--shoved a cyclist off his bike and onto the ground for no apparent reason.

The Gem, The Beaver--And The Evergreen--Stop

How would you like to get something your neighbor has...

...had since 1982?

Well, I have to admit: That question hasn't crossed my mind because, well, I didn't know my current neighbors in 1982.  And my neighbors in 1982...well, that was a different world, wasn't it?

Anyway...Last year, one state got something its neighbor had 37 years earlier.  And, yesterday, another neighbor got it. 

So, which "neighbors" am I talking about?  They aren't the folks in the house or building next door. Rather, they're three northwestern states in the United States.

What they all have now is named for one of those states.  I've mentioned it in earlier posts:  a cyclist's right to ride through a stop sign if the coast is clear.

In our world (i.e., cycling and transportation circles), it's often referred to as the "Idaho stop."  The Gem State legalized it the same year Michael Jackson's "Thriller" was released.  Since then, other jurisdictions, including a few towns in Colorado and Paris, France, have instituted versions of it. But it took Oregon, Idaho's southwestern neighbor, 37 years to do the same.

Yesterday, cyclists in Washington State, just to the north of the Beaver State, received the same right. 

Kudos to Washington Bikes for its work leading to the passage of the law, sponsored by Senator Andy Billig and Representative Joe Fitzgibbon.  The Evergreen State lawmakers, and the Seattle Department of Transportation (SDT), cited a study documenting decreased bicycle injuries and improved overall bicycle safety in jurisdictions that implemented versions of the "Idaho Stop."  One reason for the improvement in safety is that the "Idaho Stop" reduces the confusion--which sometimes leads to collisions--that results when cyclists stop at signs or motorists give cyclists the right of way when, for example, traffic is entering the intersection from another direction.  

Interestingly, the study cited by the SDT also mentions that cyclist safety improves because, in riding through "stop" signs, cyclists spend less time in intersections, where air pollution is greater. Also, cyclists are less likely to suffer overuse or other injuries from continuous stopping and starting.

Now there's a question to be researched: How much does strain and stress increase the risk of cycling accidents?

 

She Was Afraid Of Breaking The Chandelier

When I was growing up, one of the most derogatory things anybody could have said to me was, "You throw like a girl." Or "you run like a girl."  

In my heart of hearts, I wanted to say, "Of course!  What did you expect?"  But, because I was being raised as a boy, I couldn't respond that way.

Any more than I could have smiled and thanked someone for telling me I rode a bike "like a girl."

Now, if the people around me knew anything about cycling, I could have retorted, "Like Nancy Burghart?" Or "Like Rebecca Twigg?"

Or Viola Brand: 

Forget about the latest Tour or Giro or Vuelta winner.  This young woman  from Stuttgart, Germany is my new cycling hero!  I mean, if you can pirouette on a bike, you are a real athlete--and artist.

She said that while doing her pirouettes, "I was afraid of breaking the chandelier."

I don't think it would be very difficult to replace.

What He Enables

I'm no political junkie.  But it's hard to imagine a lower point in the political history of this country than last night's debate.

I think Joe Biden did about as well as anyone could have in the circumstances.  He kept his composure about as well as anyone could have in the presence of Donald Trump.

Note a phrase I repeated in the previous paragraph:  "about as well as anyone could have."  The thing about Trump, I believe, is that he knows, deep down, he can't win a reasoned intellectual argument.  So he lies, gaslights, impugns character and otherwise attacks people in ways that can't be responded to under Robert's Rules of Order, or even the Marquis of Queensbury rules. 

Why am I writing about this on a blog about bicycling?  Well, I think Trump's behavior has implicitly given permission for folks who have power and strength--whether it's financial, institutional or purely physical; whether it's sanctioned by the State or some other recognized authority--to wield it deliberately or without discretion against those who are more vulnerable than themselves.

An example of what I'm talking about took place in Seattle, where a police officer rode his bicycle over the head of a protester:

Amazingly, that protester, known locally as "Trumpet Man,"  didn't end up with anything worse than some shoulder and neck pain.  Some might say the officer did what he did unintentionally.  Even if he did, he should be called to account:  At the least, he can use some re-training.  If his actions were deliberate, of course, he should be fired.  While most of us would assume--rightly, probably--that Trumpet Man was lying down as a form of peaceful protest, he could just as easily have been, as he pointed out, a mentally ill or addicted person who was having a seizure.

In several of my posts, I have pointed out that motorists very often don't realize (or care) that they are operating a potentially-deadly weapon, especially if they drive it into the path of a cyclist or pedestrian.  Well, to be fair, I am going to call out anyone who uses a bicycle in a like fashion--especially if the State bestows upon him the power of life and death.

A First Time In Blue

This is one sure sign of Middle Age, with the Capital M and Capital A:  going for a colonoscopy. 

I last had one ten years ago, just nine months(!) after my gender reaffirmation surgery.  The procedure hasn't changed much (at least from what I can recall):  They knock you out for a few minutes and look for polyps

The good doctor didn't find any.  A week and a half ago, during our preliminary appointment, he told me I'd need a ride home, as the anesthetic would take a few hours to wear off.  

But he said nothing about getting there: a few blocks from the Intrepid Air and Space Museum.  That's about 7 kilometers from my apartment.  Despite the MTA's assurances, I still don't want to take the subway or a bus.  So, I did something that, in all of my years of living in New York, I had never before done.

No, I didn't visit the Statue of Liberty.  Rather, I rode a Citibike.  

The irony of that is that in addition to living in New York, I've visited several cities with bike share programs.  In those places, however, I rented bikes from shops and when I'm at home, I ride my own bikes.  Also, I repaired and assembled Citibikes a few weeks after the program started.  But I'd never ridden my handiwork, if you will.

The bike was about what I'd expected:  very comfortable but not very fast or maneuverable.  That, of course, is how they're built: to take the pounding of day-to-day use on city streets.  

In all, it wasn't bad.  The hard part, for me, was buying the pass and unlocking the bike, which I did via a Lyft app.  I don't think the problem was the system, as lots of other people seem to use it easily.  Rather, I am a bit of a techno-ditz:  Any time I use a new app or program, it's as if I'm re-inventing the wheel (pun intended).  Also, when I arrived, some of the docks at the nearest station weren't working properly (or was I not using them properly)?  I had to try a few before I heard the "click" and the green light flashed.

Although I don't expect to be a regular Citibike user, understand why it's popular, and I wouldn't dissuade anyone who doesn't have his or own bike (or a safe place to park it) from using those blue two-wheelers.

(Another bit of good news came out of today's procedure--or, more precisely, the screening:  My weight is the lowest it's been since I took my bike tour of the French and Italian Alps in 2001.  I guess I shouldn't be surprised:  For the past few months, I've cycled or walked just about everywhere I've gone, and one unanticipated, but welcome, side-effect of not going into the college is that I'm eating healthier food.)

Ya Gotta Start Somewhere, Right?

Could this be why some bike shops don't allow test rides?