Rust Belt Reverse Robin Hood

It’s  bad enough when a bike shop is robbed.  I feel for the owners and employees who are trying to make a living while providing valuable services.

A robbery is all the more galling when its target is a non-profit shop committed to making bicycles to everyone who can ride.  It’s worse still when such a shoo is located in an area where the need is great.

The scenario described in the previous paragraph took place on Sunday night, around 9:30. A surveillance video shows someone smashing a cash register in the parking lot.  According to reports, the amount of cash the perp took was not great, but it surely matters to a shop like Toledo Bikes.  

So did the bike he took from the showroom floor—and another bike taken yesterday morning by someone who entered through the door broken by whoever filched the first bike.

A man has been arrested in relation to yesterday‘s theft. Police haven’t yet confirmed whether he, or someone else, is responsible for the first robbery.

A local glass repair company, no doubt cognizant of Toledo Bikes’ value to the community (and its probably-minuscule budget) has offered to replace the broken glass door.

Cycles And Carrots In Cuba

 Although bicycle commuting and transportation is on the rise here in the USA, the bicycle is still commonly associated with pleasure, fitness, recreation and sport. That, I believe, is why cyclists incur resentment and antagonism from drivers:  Most Americans drive because their communities and lifestyles all but require it.  Even in my hometown of New York City, there are “transportation deserts,” defined as places more than a 15-minute walk from a subway or bus station. Truth be told, many of us who ride to work, school or wherever have other options.

In other parts of the world, the situation is different:  People pedal because they don’t have other options.  In fact, many associate bicycles with poverty and hard times. Irina Echarry describes this in her article published in today’s Havana Times.

She also draws a very interesting connection: whenever the economy takes a turn for the worse in Cuba, “two things flourish: fields and bikes.”  People “turn to planting their own crops so they don’t die of hunger,” she explains, and “turn to bikes so they can keep moving.”

When she draws that comparison between planting a vegetable garden and riding a bike, she is saying that both are means to self-sufficiency,  and even survival.

A Win For Us

Some of us follow competitive sports because they’re exciting.  Others—I include myself—are interested in the stories of the athletes.

Photo by Will Matthews

Ian Boswell is one such athlete.  

On Saturday, he stormed to victory in the Unbound Gravel 200 race in Kansas.  It wasn’t a triumph only for him; it was also a win for his nephew, and the community of which he is a part.

Which is to say it’s also a win for me.  You see the nephew is transgender, and a sweatband showing our community’s flag was clearly visible on when Boswell raised his arms as he crossed the finish line.

“If I can bring awareness or support, it honestly means more to me than winning any race,” he said of his achievement.

He definitely sounds like a champion to me!

If It Fits, Grab It!

Recently, I helped a friend buy a bike.

She's about my age, give or take a couple of years, but hasn't had a bike since she was a teenager.  Seeing other people (including yours truly) astride two wheels "made me think:  what fun!  what a great way to get around!"

The search wasn't easy, though.  Of course, I had to think about what kind of bike would ease her back into riding and fit her well.

I think one of those goals was accomplished with a folding bike. Whether we met the other goal, though, is debatable:  It's not a Brompton or other high-end folder, so I'm not sure it fits anybody well.

But, as you surely know, the pandemic has induced a bicycle shortage even more acute, I think, than the ones that marked the 1970s Bike Boom.  So people like my friend are taking whatever they can get:

This May Have Been An Accident

Oh, no!

That was my reaction upon hearing that a former NBA player died as a result of a bicycle accident in Utah.

The news made me cringe on two levels.  First of all, I thought immediately of Shawn Bradley, of whom I wrote in March.  As he pedaled along a road near his St. George home, a driver struck him from behind and left him paralyzed, with a traumatic spinal cord injury.  I was glad to hear he wasn't the former NBA player I heard about yesterday, though I don't envy his situation.  

I wasn't happy, though, to learn of Mark Eaton's death from "an apparent bicycle accident" in Silver Creek.  At first, I thought  of Henry Grabar's Slate article reminding readers that what happened to Bradley--and incidents like it--are not  "accidents," as they're often (mis)reported.  According to the report I read, Eaton--who, like Bradley, played 12 NBA seasons and was best known as a shot-blocker--was found unconscious in the middle of a road near his home.  Emergency medical personnel treated him and rushed him to a hospital, where he couldn't be saved.

Mark Eaton in 1985

The Utah Office of the Medical Examiner will try to determine the cause of death.  There were no witnesses to whatever happened to Eaton , according to the Sheriff's Office, but authorities believe "no vehicle was involved."

If indeed "no vehicle was involved," it may well be that whatever befell Eaton was an accident. That, of course, doesn't make it any less terrible, any more than his status as a former NBA player makes his passing more tragic.  One can only hope that whatever happened to him, he went with as little pain and suffering as possible, and with the memory of a good ride.

70 With 46

 Yesterday was World Bicycle Day.

The day after, a woman turned 70 and celebrated with a bike ride.

No, I am not that woman.  First of all, I haven't reached that milestone yet. (I might tell you when I do.) Second, she rode with her husband.

So who is the mystery woman?

She is none other than Jill Biden, wife of the current President.  They returned to Delaware, their home state, and pedaled down the 5.2 mile Cape Henlopen State Park trail, near their beach house.

Of course, it's pretty difficult for a President and First Lady to go unnoticed on a bike ride.  Other cyclists shouted good wishes and sang "Happy Birthday."  A reporter asked Jill whether she was enjoying her birthday.  She responded with an enthusiastic "Yes."

If this image of Joe (a.k.a. #46) and Jill cycling doesn't show just how different they are from their most recent predecessors, I don't know what does!

Riding By Their Home

Even though I have lived and cycled in this city for most of my life, an afternoon ride still can include a “What’s this?”moment

So it was late yesterday afternoon, as I spun down Park Place in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.  

This T-shaped building takes up most of a square block and seems out of place , only because of its size, in a neighborhood full of elegant brownstone townhouses and min-mansions. (Crown Heights was one of the most fashionable neighborhoods in New York—something Stingo, the narrator of Sophie’s Choice, notices.) To me, it looked like a sanitarium attached to a church.

Turns out, my hunch wasn’t far off the mark:  It opened late in the 19th Century as the Brooklyn Methodist Episcopal Home of the Aged. About two decades later, the chapel was added.

When the Home was built, Social Security and public services for the elderly and other vulnerable people didn’t exist.  So, whatever help was available came from charities, whether secular or church-related.

Mercein Thomas, the architect of the Home, refused payment for his services. So did William Kennedy, the architect who designed the extension and chapel.  The money was donated by members of the Methodist Episcopal Church, which included some of Brooklyn’s most prominent families.

Today the building houses the Hebron Seventh Day Adventist Church and bilingual (French and English) school that mainly serves Haitian and Senegalese immigrants.

As I understand, the building is in peril:  A developer wants to demolish the south wing and build an apartment tower that would dwarf, not only the school, but the neighborhood. And it would accelerate gentrification, which would drive out longtime residents as well as the families of the kids who attend the school.

Where would be the sense of wonder in riding past another tower block?

11 Years

 Eleven years ago today, I wrote my first post on this blog.

I was just returning to cycling after the longest layoff of my adult life:  the months following my gender affirmation suregery.  I could have started to ride again sooner than I did, but I figured that it was better to stay off my bike through the winter and allow a full, thorough healing and formation.

I had no idea of what cycling would be like in my "new" body.  Although I have to pay more attention to signals it sends me, I have found cycling more rewarding than it's ever been.  I am riding, and living, in my true self--and for my own reasons.  I no longer have to impress anyone with my speed, endurance or anything else.  Being on my bike is enough.

COVID-19--Who, except for a few scientists, foresaw that?--has reinforced that lesson: Being on my bike is enough.  It allowed me to endure the ravages of the pandemic-- which struck New York, my hometown, early and hard--with my health (mental as well as physical) intact.  Cycling allowed me to avoid mass transportation and offered me a mental as well as physical release.  And it, along with writing this blog, has brought at least some degree of continuity to my life.  

I am thankful--to ride, to write, and for you, dear readers, for 11 years.

Marlee had yet to be born when I started this blog!

Feel The Burn--In The Right Place!

If you've been following this blog for a while, you've endured, shall we say, a few bad puns.  So I am guessing you can endure one more.

Here goes:  Sunscreen is a sensitive issue for me.

Actually, it's not as much of a pun as it might seem because, well, my skin is sensitive.  I have always known as much, and a few doctors (including my primary care physician and the orthopedic surgeon who treated me after I was "doored" in October) have confirmed it.  Some of that sensitivity has to do with my melanin deficiency:  I burn easily. 

From Bikeradar

So I pay attention to the labels on my suncreen.  In addition to being alert for chemicals that don't sound as if they should be applied to any part of my body (and that, in microscopic amounts, can damage coral reefs as well as other marine life), I also look at the number almost everyone else checks:  SPF.  A higher-number SPF gives you more protection; I've been advised to use a 50.  When I went to Cambodia and Laos three years ago--my second trip in the tropical zone--I packed a 100 SPF sunscreen.

While a higher number does indeed offer more protection, one-third of all sunscreens Consumer Reports recently tested actually had less than half of their claimed SPF.  Moreover, some experts cite the law of diminishing returns:  Any increase in SPF over 50 offers less of an improvement in protection than any increase up to 50.  That argument is based on the fact that a 50 SPF sunscreen offers protection from about 98 percent of Ultraviolet B (UVB) rays:  the ones that burn the surface of our skins. (Ouch!) 

But SPF ratings don't tell us anything about a sunscreen's ability to protect us from Ultraviolet A (UVA) rays.  Those are the ones that penetrate the skin and lead to premature aging.  In the European Union, all sunscreens have to offer at least a third as much UVA as UVB protection.  

Thoug both kinds of ultraviolet rays contribute to skin cancer, B plays a greater role, espcially in malignant melanoma, the deadliest form of the disease.  The good news is, of course, that a sunscreen with 50 USB or more will protect from most of the harmful rays--that is, when it's used properly.  The American Academy of Dermatology recommends using enough lotion to fill a shot glass (two tablespoons), more if you're a larger person.  

The AAD also prefers traditonal lotions over spray-on because the latter disperses the sunscreen into the air.  When you apply a lotion with your hand, more of it ends up on your skin.  And, sprays are generally a bad idea for sunscreens as well as any number of other products because the chemicals used as propellants are bad for the environment as well as your lungs.  (Even if you can't smell it, you're likely to inhale droplets of those chemicals, as well as the rest of the sunscreen, when you spray it.)  And, finally, the AAD "sunscreen pills" are basically snake oil.

Whether you're like me, or darker, you should be using sunscreen when you're out for half an hour or more--even if you're covered up. (UVA and UVB can penetrate fabrics.) At the end of your ride, the burn you feel should be in your muscles, not on your skin.  

A Journey In Memory

Here in the USA, it's Memorial Day.  The temperature hasn't exceeded 10C (50F) since Friday and rain has fallen nearly continuously--sometimes in torrents, other times in a drizzle.  The rain could stop and clouds could break by this afternoon, so some of the festivities associated with this holiday--nearly all of which were cancelled last year, when we were in the thick of the pandemic--might be staged.  So might the some of the barbeques and family gatherings postponed last year.

Photo by Rachel Smook.  From Massbike.

What I hope is that the people who weren't mourned, wheether they died in uniform or on a ventilator, will get the remembrances they deserve.  While this day is intended as a remembrance of those who died while serving in the military, I think it's fitting to recall those (including seven people I knew) who perished as a result of a pandemic that has killed more people in this country than all of the armed conflicts in which we've been involved since World War I.

The Tour of Somerville was one of many Memorial Day events cancelled last year.  This year, it's been moved to Labor Day (6 September).  I think the race organizers chose that date because here in the US, Labor Day is seen as the unofficial end of summer, just as Memorial Day is seen as its beginning.  The only other race cancellations came during World War II, which claimed the lives of its first two winners.

It just so happens that this Memorial Day is the 100th anniversary of the Tulsa Massacre, which I mentioned last week.  On 31 May 2021, white mobs descended on Greenwood, the Tulsa community dubbed "The Black Wall Street."  The city's police chief deputized hundreds of white citizens to join those mobs and commandeered gun shops to arm them.  The following day, the Greenwood district was wiped off the face of the earth.  It's estimated that 300 people died, but the true number may never be known.

However we choose to spend this day--I plan to take a bike ride later--it is intended as a memorial.   I try to remember that.