To Truly Honor Them

We call today Veterans' Day.  When I was growing up, many people still referred to it as Armistice Day.  In other countries, it's called Remembrance Day.  

That last name would be attached to this day if I were President.  Too often, at least here in the US, anything associated with veterans is, too often, used to glorify war and military power rather than to honor the sacrifices of those who served.  

As Danny Sjursen has written, "The best way America can honor its veterans and fallen soldiers is to create fewer of them."  He would know:  Tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan left the West Point alumnus with PTSD severe enough that the Army retired him early, with the rank of Major.

I mention that because I reckon that PTSD is even more common among veterans than any of us realize. While nobody knows how to "cure" it, there are ways to cope.  One of them is, of course, bicycling.  A number of organizations offer free bikes, whether of the conventional types or modified machines, to veterans. They also sponsor rides and other cycling-related events as part of their recreational and therapeutic programs for veterans.

There is, however, an organization in Chamblee, Georgia, devoted exclusively to mountain biking for veterans.  Appropriately enough, it's called MTB Vets.

 

Vets need more such organizations and programs and, to paraphrase Major Sjursen, less platitudinous praise or trite thanks.      

Two Hours of Light Rides

Yesterday I made a confession to my doctor.

Well, all right, he's not my primary care physician or gynecologist (yes, I have one of those), so my revelation wasn't as life-changing as you might expect.  I was, you see, a little bit naughty.

I told the orthopedist about this:

The other day was one of those utterly glorious fall days that seems to exist in postcards and catalogues that peddle someone's idea of New England country life. (You know, flannel shirts, apple-picking and the like!)  Even though I only had to wait one more day (actually, less) for my appointment, I went for a ride.

I pedaled only for an hour, along one of the easiest routes I could take:  down the new Crescent Street bike lane to 36th Avenue and the bridge to Roosevelt Island, which I looped twice.  I ended the hour with a ramble along a few side streets back to my apartment.

It was only an hour, but it was enough to lift my spirits. Maybe it had something to do with the softly smoldering late-day sunlight where the East River (misnamed, by the way) splits into Long Island Sound and the Harlem River (also misnamed) and separates Queens (where I live) and Manhattan from the North American mainland.

I did not feel separated from anything.  Maybe that's why I felt comfortable in "confessing" it.  The orthopedic doctor said it was fine; I am recovering well but I should "proceed slowly." Which I will, of course.

In fact, that's what I did today:  another late-day, one-hour ride, this time along streets that wind along the shoreline between my neighborhood and LaGuardia Airport.

The Hell Gate Bridge is always a nice frame for the sunset at Astoria Park--especially with fallen leaves in the autumn light.  But who knew a side street--26th, to be exact--in Astoria could seem like a gate of heaven?

Of course I want to go on the longer rides. But if one-hour rides can fill me with such light and color, I guess I can be a little bit patient.

Wins

I've held off on saying anything about the election results because, you know, I didn't want to be accused of "stealing" it by calling it "prematurely."  Or someone might think I stuffed my panniers with ballots from dead people and brought them to the Queens County election office.

Seriously, though:  I think you know the way I feel.  Just about anybody has to be better than El Cheeto Grande for, well, almost anything you can think of--including bicycling.

Speaking of which:  According to People for Bikes (an organization I heartily endorse), this year Americans voted more than $1 billion for projects, including lanes and trails,  that support cycling.

From People for Bikes

Although I have complained about the faulty conception, design and construction of many bike lanes (including some I ride regularly), I am glad when a lane or other piece of bike infrastructure is created, or an education program is launched.  Even when these things are done poorly, I try to keep hope that they're steps to "getting it right."  Too many planners don't yet understand cycling; I figure it will take time for them to learn--or to be replaced by people who have experienced our realities.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed about that--and the Senate: If it's split evenly between the Democrats and Republicans, Kamala Harris will be the tie-breaker.

Double Trouble?

I've ridden tandems only twice in my life.  Each time, I rode with a different partner.  So I never had to think about the logistical challenges tandem-cycling couples face:

From HipPostcard

A Cyclists' Bridge To A City's History

Providence, Rhode Island billed itself the "jewelry making capital of the world."  For nearly two centuries before the 1980s, that claim was justifiable: In 1978, when the industry peaked, 33,574 people worked in 1,374 Rhode Island companies that were classified as making "jewelry, silverware and miscellaneous notions," according to the state's Department of Labor and Training.

Not coincidentally, during that time Providence was an important shipping port:  second only to Boston in New England.  Of course, not all maritime cargo was related to rings and amulets, but a significant portion certainly was.  So, the decline of the industry and the port were, to some degree, tied together.  But another reason why fewer ships entered and left Providence's harbor in 1990 than in 1890 was Interstate 195.  The I-195 span replaced the Washington Bridge, a bascule (movable) span. In addition to blocking ships from the inner harbor, I-195, like other Interstates, hastened the decline of traditional ports like Providence, Boston, New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles that did no have easy access to the highway.

I mention all of these aspects of Providence's history because, in addition to being a jewelry-making center, Providence, like other industrial cities, had a thriving bicycle industry during the 1890s.  As in other American cities, bike-making declined (or ceased to exist) after World War I and few adults pedaled.  

But now, as in other places, cycling in Providence has undergone a renaissance, fueled largely by young people who have moved to the city.  As in nearby Boston and New York, those new cyclists complained about the lack of safe streets and driver awareness.  This has led to the construction of bike lanes and other efforts, misguided at times, to make the city more "bike friendly."

One such effort seems practical.  Whatever else it may be, it's certainly picturesque.  I'm talking about the newly-opened Providence River Pedestrian and Bicycle Bridge.  The span allows cyclists to pedal between the city's Fox Point neighborhood and the waterfront parks on the edge of the Jewelry/Innovation District.  The span is at least as lovely as some of the brooches and necklaces made in the city:  The bridge's curved edges are clad in wood, evoking the designs of ships that plied the harbor.  Better yet, its surface is lined with a wildflower garden and benches that allow passerby to pause and take in the cityscape.

Oh, and the bridge is built on granite piers that supported an I-195 viaduct before the highway was rerouted during the 1990s.

Photo by Steve Kroodsma/Kroo Photgraphy

So, the new Providence River Pedestrian and Bicycle Bridge spans, not only a body of water, but a city's history--and serves the needs and wants of present-day urban dwellers.  It sounds like a "gem" to me.

Georgia On My Samajwadi Mind

 

Right now, I have Georgia on my mind for a good reason:  It might deliver the presidency to Joe Biden.  Poll workers in the Peach State are still counting ballots, but some time in the wee hours of this morning, the lead shifted to Joe.

I still think about him riding rings around a Fox reporter a few weeks ago.  Trump, on the other hand, keeps at least a few tire rotations from bicycles.  Even if people hadn't seen Biden on Bike or Trump treading on cyclists, they might more readily associate bicycles and cyclists with Democrats than with Republicans.  That makes sense if you look only at the two major parties.  Me, I'd associate bikes with the Green or Working Families party first, but if I had to choose between the donkey or the elephant, I would remember that it's easier to ride--or just get things done--on the former rather than the latter.

(But, really, you shouldn't interpret what I've just said as an endorsement of any candidate, I swear--with my fingers crossed behind my back!)

Whichever American political party you associate with two wheels, two pedals and a set of handlebars, none can compare India's Samajwadi Party:  Its symbol is a bicycle.

Riveted To The Race

 What's the worst thing about not being able to ride my bike on a beautiful fall day?

Well, if it were any given beautiful fall day, I'd have a long list of choices:  the glow of the early November sun on fallen leaves, the crisp air, the energy of this city.  But because I'm sidelined during the Presidential election, the choice is simple.  It's simply excruciating to be surrounded by talk about vote counts and who wants them to continue--or end.

It's been about 40 hours since all of the polls closed.  Trump wins South Carolina--no surprise, really--but I, and millions of other people--wait with bated breath when Michigan and Wisconsin and Pennsylvania are mentioned.  Biden won the first two, but count in the Keystone State could go on for days, according to pundits.

From the Wall Street Journal

Electoral campaigns are called "races" and elections are described with analogies to sports.  Such language and imagery are apt, but there is a major difference:  I may want a particular rider to win the Tour or Giro or the local crit, or one team or another to win a game, but if someone else emerges victorious, I may be disappointed but my life will go on.  In contrast, one candidate or another winning an election can make a real difference in my life, and the lives of many other people!

I just hope my guy, and team, win!

A Free Ride Ahead of Vanilla ISIS

 Today is Election Day here in the US.

In case you're wondering:  Yes, I voted--a month ago.  On the first of October--the same day I got my flu shot--I rode my bike to the Queens County Board of Elections and delivered my absentee ballot.  I didn't want to take any chances with mail delays or any of the potential hazards (COVID-19, voter intimidation) of waiting in line at the poll site.

Speaking of riding to vote:  Roam NRV, the bike share company of New River Valley, Virginia (home of, among other things, Virginia Tech University), is offering free rides today.  According to Roam NRV operations manager Cat Woodson, the Roam NRV the goal of the offer, dubbed "Rolls to the Polls, is to "minimize friction points" in getting to the voting place.  "Maybe instead of taking two bus trips, it takes one bus trip and a bike ride or maybe it is a little bit of a walk and a bike trip," she explains.  The bike ride, for many, would cut down on the amount of time--and, perhaps more important, hassles--associated with getting to the polling spot.

I wholly endorse Roam NRV's action.  I don't, however, openly endorse candidates (Yeah, right!).  So please don't try to infer my polling  choices from this video:  

Because He Would Not Stop

Today is Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead.

Emily Dickinson, was a great a poet, but I doubt she had any contact with Latinx culture. Most likely, she never rode a bicycle, either. So, when she penned

           Because I could not stop for Death-- 

          He kindly stopped for me

I don't think she had this in mind:

Enjoy the day!

No Superstitions Here!

A black cat crossing my path?

At least it's not a car door.

Happy Halloween!