The Waterfront, And Echoes Of Shell

Yesterday, I wrote about last weekend's varied rides.  Not only were the locales and sights different on each ride; so were the bikes I rode.

There was also variation within the rides, as there always is.  As an example, my Friday ride took me into Brooklyn and included two utterly different neighborhoods.

The metallic hues of New York Bay and its piers, docks, towers and bridges formed the vista of Red Hook

where one bridge rims the curvature of the earth, while another doesn't go far enough.

A few miles inland, a post-industrial streetscape stands a few blocks from where I grew up, at the edge of Borough Park, now one of Brooklyn's two major Hasidic neighborhoods.  

Change, however, can't seem to efface old identities and purposes:

Tell me that wasn't a Shell station.

I was tempted to check out the convenience store.  Perhaps I will if I take another ride out that way.  Whether or not they're different, I hope it doesn't sell sushi:  There should be a law against selling it any service station convenience store.  

But at least one law says it's OK for folks who'd shop in a place like that to eat sushi.  According to every interpretation of Halakhic law I've read, sushis made with vegetables or raw fish comply with Kosher dietary laws.  I don't imagine, though, anyone who likes sushi, whether or not they follow any religious edicts about food, would eat sushi from that place!

By the way, I had vegetable enchiladas after the ride.

Bet You Can't Ride Just One

Do you actually ride all of those bikes?

You've probably heard that question from the non-cyclists in your life.  I try to explain that even though each of my rides might look similar, they actually offer different kinds of rides, based on their geometry, frame material and components (especially wheels and tires).  

So, my answer is, yes--though, if I'm feeling a bit snarky, I might add, "but not at the same time.  I'm working on that."

Well, last weekend I did manage to ride three of my bikes in three days.  On Friday afternoon, I took Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, for a spin along the waterfronts of Queens and Brooklyn.

Saturday was the sort of gloriously sunny and brisk early fall-day that riding dreams are made of.  What better day to ride to Connecticut--on Dee-Lilah, my delightful Mercian Vincitore Special.

I'll say more about her accessories--the bags--in another post.   For now, I'll just say that I like them a lot, and while they're not the easiest to acquire, they're worth waiting for.  

And yesterday I took another ride along the waterfronts, mainly because I didn't want to turn it into an all-day (or even all-morning or all-afternoon) ride, as I'd promised to spend some time with someone who can't ride--and some quality time to Marlee.  I didn't take any photos of the bike I rode--Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic, but she's pretty much how you remember her if you've seen her in some earlier posts.

So, while I didn't ride all of my bikes, I think I varied my rides enough to feel justified in having, well, more than one bike!

Cycling Really Does Pay--In Denver

I've been paid to ride my bike, though not in a way I envisioned in my hopes or dreams.

Like other young riders of my generation, I had images of myself riding with the pros--in Europe, of course, because that's where most of the pros were.  Specifically, I saw myself pedaling with the peloton past sunflower fields, vineyards and castles, through river valleys and up mountains in France, Belgium, Italy and other hotbeds of cycling.  It was near the end of Eddy Mercx's reign, and before the dawning of Bernard Hinault's.  There were some great riders, but none had dominated the field the way Eddy and Bernard did.  So I thought I had a chance to, not only become the next champion, but to become a standard-bearer for my country.

Well, obviously, that dream didn't pan out.  My amateur racing career didn't last long:  I did muster one third-place finish. But I discovered that riding as a job isn't nearly as much fun as riding because you want to.

What led to the discovery of the latter was being a messenger in New York City.  For a while I actually enjoyed it, or at least I was OK with it because, really, during that time in my life, I couldn't have done anything else.  And I was getting paid to ride my bike!

That last aspect of the trade, if you will, lost its appeal to me after I slogged through slush a few times--and when I admitted to myself that I was doing it because I couldn't--actually, wouldn't--deal with a few things I wouldn't until much later.  And I wasn't riding much when I wasn't on the job.  

Still, though, the idea of getting paid to ride a bike always appealed to me.  (If I were President, I would...) So imagine my delight upon learning that in a major American city, people will have that privilege--at least for this month.

Bike Streets, a Denver nonprofit, has launched an all-volunteer project focused on getting residents of the Mile High City to change how they travel around their city.  Folks who sign up will have their mileage logged by Strava; depending on how many sign up, riders will earn 15 to 30 cents a mile, for a maximum of $75 a month.

Photo by F Delvanthal

Oh, and riders can pedal wherever they want:  to school, work, the store or a park, along a trail or a street.  Bike Streets founder Avi Stopper hopes that the reward will entice people to "discover riding a bike, not just for fitness, but to get to every destination they need to go in Denver, is really a viable thing and a fun thing to do as well."

That sounds like a fine reward to me--though I wouldn't turn down the money, either.

By the way, in 2018 Bike Streets created the Low-Stress Denver Bike Map, which has been used about 425,000 times. They're accepting donations to help pay for this month's project, as well as ongoing work like the map.    

What Are They Doing?

 

Are they showing the joy of cycling?

Did they synchronize their moves to show how harmonious a couple they are?

Or are they riding fixed-gear bikes and have suddenly realized that they don't know how to stop without brakes?

How would you explain this image?

She's Rolling, But Not A Stone

 Recently, Rolling Stone revised its 500 Best Songs of All Time list for the first time in 17 years.  For the first time, the Bob Dylan song from which the magazine took its name is not at the top of the list. (It's now #4.) I'm glad that some of the new songs make the list more diverse, in terms of identity as well as musical style.  Still, I think such lists are pointless exercises, at best, and at worst arrogant, as they reflect nothing more than the worldview of the lists' compilers.

What if cyclists had a "500 Best Songs" or "Greatest Musicians" list?  Would they include "Freewheeling" by Ali Spagnola?

Connecting, By Bicycle

This post is about Andre Breton.  

No, I'm not referring to the author of Manifeste du surrealisme.  But the man I'm about to mention is something of a philosopher. 

On 6 September, the 50-year-old began a "prologue," if you will:  a ride from Fort Collins, Colorado to Bradford, Kansas.  From Bradford, he undertook his "real" journey, which he dubbed "Connecting My Grandfathers."

His maternal grandfather was born in Bradford.  According to his website, he expects to arrive in Waterville, Maine--the birthplace of his paternal grandfather--some time later this month.  Along the way, he saw, and anticipates seeing beautiful landscapes, and visits with friends and family members.

The 50-year-old Breton is a relative newcomer to cycling.  He bought a bike on impulse in 2010, on Saint Patrick's Day.  He said he was "guilted" into the purchase because he was living in Fort Collins, Colorado, where he was working on his third post-doctoral fellowship as a wildlife biologist.  "That community rides bicycle far more than any community I've encountered in the United States," he explains. 

Buying that bicycle might've been one of the best bits of timing in his life:  He had just broken up with a paramour and felt ready to do the same with the academic world.  Riding again for the first time since he was a teenager sparked "a massive fire" in him that led to racing.    "This is my ninth season, the last two years as a pro," he says.  "I got my butt kicked, but when else am I going to do it?"  

He's also taken some long tours, in North America and Europe.  All of those hours in the saddle, he said, helped him out of a depression.  "There are lessons you can gain on a bicycle in a short time that can teach you about your whole life," he explains.

His current ride is to connect his grandfathers.  The real connection, I believe, is the one he made with himself.  In a way, that's not so different from what the French writer did when he used his dreams to tap into his creative subconsciousness.

Andre Breton. Photo by Della Taylor, for the Potter Leader-Enterprise.

I Admire His Ingenuity, But There Are Better Uses For Bikes

In earlier posts, I've written about homeless people I often encounter on rides, especially during my commutes to and from work.  I've seen them in the places one expects to find them:  in doorways and vestibules,  under train trestles and under overpasses of one kind or another, inside any kind of structure abandoned temporarily or for years or decades. I saw one man sleeping on the ramp, partially enclosed, that gave cyclists and pedestrians access between the Bronx and Randall's Island before the connector opened.  Some unhoused people even sleep, or at least recline, on sidewalks that see little or no foot traffic after business hours, covering themselves with blankets, rags, cardboard boxes or almost anything else that provides a layer, however thin, between them and the night.  When that doesn't prove to be enough--or sometimes when it does--they curl up into a fetal position as if they were trying to re-create their mothers' wombs, their first (and perhaps only real) home.

And some have bicycles.  I would guess they were "rescued" from dumpsters, trash left for curbside pickup or other places and repairs, just enough to keep the bike operable, salvaged from those same sources.  Some folks use their bikes as their "shelter", or at least part of it.

Apparently, one unhoused man in Los Angeles' Koreatown took the idea of using a bicycle as "shelter" further than anyone I've witnessed or heard about.  He built a wall of bicycles between himself and the traffic of 4th Street.

Of course, not everyone appreciates the man's creative ingenuity.  He is just one of many people living in a sidewalk homeless encampment on 4th.  Since not many businesses or residents would allow such people to use their toilets or showers, sanitation is a problem.  So is access to the local businesses, including a dental office.  "I have a few who have left our practice," complains Dr. Charisma Lasan, whose office is across the street from the encampment.  "They actually came and turned around and just went home" upon seeing the encampment, she explained.

While I can understand her and other business owners'--and residents'--concerns, I also know that simply chasing or detaining them won't solve the problem.  If any of the encampments' residents are like the man who built the bicycle walls, they have talents and skills--some of which may have been developed or honed on the street--that can help them to do more than merely survive.  Of course, that would mean ensuring they receive whatever they need, whether education, mental health services, medical care or other thing--including, of course, a place to live.

Oh, and as much as I appreciate the man's inventiveness, I would rather see the bikes used for transportation or recreation.  I don't think they were ever intended as shelter!

 

From Keds To Pajamas To...Bicycles

 "They shall beat their swords into ploughshares " comes from the book of Isaiah.  It's been used as a metaphor for a transition from one industry or economy or another.  The real transition, of course, is in the way resources are in the types of resources, and the ways they are, used.  

An example was 5 Pointz, an old water meter factory converted to artists' studios in Long Island City, just four kilometers from my apartment. Its owner also held a competition every year to decide which artists would grace its exterior with mural art.  It actually became a tourist attraction; people would ride the 7 train from Manhattan just to see the building as the train made its turn from Court House Square to Queensboro Plaza.

Sometimes I fall into the cynicism that tells me if I like something enough, it won't last.  In this case, that jadedess was justified:  The owner sold the property, tore down the factory and build just what this city--and the world--needs:  two luxury condominium towers, which kept the name "5 Pointz."

But some property-use conversions are more welcome.  I am thinking of what David and Louise Stone have done in Williamsport, Pennsylvania.  Their Bicycle Recycle shop, like other similar programs, "rescues" used bikes and either refurbishes them or strips them for parts to repair other bikes.  Some of those bikes are sold; others are donated.  And some of the the bikes and parts are used to train volunteers who work with them.  Their work, they say, is motivated by their knowledge that bicycles can change lives.

What might be most unusual about them--aside from the fact that they started Bicycle Recycle when they were of a certain age--is their location.  Yes, it's was a factory. What it made, and what distinguished it, seems about as incongruous for a bicycle-related enterprise as anything can be.

The name says it all:  The Pajama Factory.  Today it houses other businesses and artists' studios, in addition to Bicycle Recycle.  But it wasn't any old pajama factory: It was the largest of its kind, where, starting in 1934,  the Weldon Pajama Company  produced more of the garments than any other facility in the world. (Was Williamsport ever described as a "sleepy" town? Sorry, I couldn't resist that one!)  

The complex, however, dates to half a decade before the first sleepwear was made in it.  The Lycoming Rubber Company, a subsidiary of the US Rubber Company, built it between 1883 and 1919 as a place to manufacture their tennis, gym and yachting shoes--and their most famous product, Keds sneakers--in addition to other rubber goods.

From Keds to pajamas to recycled bikes--that's certainly an interesting trajectory.  And the Stones sound like interesting people.

Driver Rolls Coal, Cyclists Treated Like Invasive Species

A recent incident has cyclists "arguing that consequence-free way to kill someone in Texas is to do it with a car."  

So wrote Dug Begley in yesterday's Houston Chronicle.  He was referring to the inaction of law enforcement officials against a 16-year-old who "rolled coal"--accelerated and passed a group of cyclists in order to blow black exhaust on them--then whipped around and plowed into another group of riders, injuring six of them.

The driver stopped and talked to police, but it's clear that his actions were intended to at least intimidate, and at worst to maim or kill, cyclists.  He cannot plausibly claim he "didn't see them," as Begley describes the road as "ramrod straight" and the weather was sunny, with scarcely a cloud anywhere, on Saturday morning when he struck.

Cyclists on the Bluebonnet Express Ride in 2012, near the site where a young man plowed into a group of cyclists on Saturday.  Photo by Patric Schneider

While other jurisdictions are starting to take incidents against cyclists more seriously, BikeHouston executive director Joe Cutrufo says that cyclists in his area are "treated like an invasive species" when, in fact, we "have every right to use the roads."

I hope that Waller County police and prosecutors acknowledge as much, and to treat the driver as someone who committed assault with a deadly weapon.

What Would The Wright Brothers Have Done?

Photo by Cornelius Frolik

Two New York City boroughs, the Bronx and Queens, had similar histories and patterns of development, at least until the 1970s.  During that decade, fires ravaged parts of the Bronx, and others areas of the borough were gutted by de-industrialization and disinvestment, both by the city and private entities.  Still, the Bronx has more buildings and districts considered historically significant—some with landmark designation—than Queens has.  In fact, there are more Art Deco buildings in the Bronx than anywhere else in the United States except Miami.

One  reason why the Bronx has more historically significant buildings is, ironically, that the devastation of the 1970s discouraged developers from coming into the Bronx—and, as they are wont to do, tear buildings down.  On the other hand, during that time, Queens had a Borough President—Donald Manes—who never met a developer he didn’t like and had absolutely no interest in historic preservation.

I mention all of this because whenever a building is suggested for preservation, there is a debate about what, exactly, makes a structure historically significant and to what lengths should a city, county or other entity go to preserve it.

Specifically, both questions are being debated about 1005 West Third Street in Dayton, Ohio.  The city government wants to tear down the building because its internal structures have deteriorated after decades of disuse and neglect.  “It could collapse tonight, it could stand for another three years—nobody knows,” says Don Zimmer, Dayton’s nuisance abatement program supervisor.  

The Dayton Landmarks Commission has, however, denied the city’s request to tear it down.  They, along with Preservation Dayton, argue that at least  the building’s exterior could be preserved, which might entice a would-be investor.

So why are they debating about this particular building?  It’s not because the edifice was home to Gem City Ice Cream Co., as significant as that might be to some people in the area.  Rather, it has to do with GCICC’s predecessor:  a bike shop.

Specifically, it was home to the Wright Brothers’ first bicycle shop.  Yes, those Wright Brothers—who based much of their first successful aircraft’s design on their bicycles.

One wonders what they would do about the building.