Cyclists' Safety: It Became Personal For Her

Yesterday, I wrote about how a beloved member of his cycling community is being commemorated:  The University of Texas at San Antonio opened the Tito Bradshaw Bicycle Repair Shop in a former information booth.

The reason why he's being commemorated is, unfortunately, terrible:  He was killed by an intoxicated driver while riding his bike.

Sometimes, it seems, it takes the death of a cyclist or pedestrian to bring the issue home and spur people into action--that is, when someone isn't trying to blame the cyclist, or cyclists in general, even if the driver was drunk, high, distracted or driving with a suspended license (or no license at all).  

For Chesley Ann Epley Cobbs (Does that sound like a Southern name, or what?), the issue of safety came home, literally, when her brother was killed while riding his bicycle in Oklahoma City.  


As personal as the issue is for her, she made the point that cyclists' safety is vital to the redevelopment of her city.  "Having safe and protected bike lanes connecting our downtown communities secures the safety of getting to and from those places of well-being and entertainment that you are working so hard to build and elevate our great state," she said in a hearing at City Hall.

She found a receptive audience in at least two City Council members.  One, Jo Beth Hamon, described rides that "should take minutes" but take much longer because "going through the neighborhoods, there was no connection" between bike lanes.  As a result, she had to cross major thoroughfares, including a highway, to take what is a typical days' ride for her.

Another Council Member, James Cooper, connected the safety of cyclists and pedestrians to the overall livability of the city.  In addition to a lack of cycling infrastructure, he said that sidewalks are unsafe "in even our most walkable neighborhood, award-winning neighborhood."  He wondered how "a child" could "get safely to school, to a park" in the conditions he described.

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The Council members and Ms. Epley Cobbs spoke at a public proposal meeting on how to spend public funding earmarked for public facilities.  I hope that others in the decision-making process--in other places as well as Oklahoma City--understand what Ms. Epley Cobbs, Ms. Hamon and Mr. Cooper are trying to say:  Ensuring the safety of people who get around without motor vehicles is a vital part of a modern city's development, or redevelopment.  

Tito Bradshaw: Keeping Up His Memory, And Work

Every community needs to memorialize its heroes, advocates, champions and friends.  In that way, we in the cycling community are no different.

We're not (at least here in the US) yet at the point of having monuments, buildings, streets, plazas or even corners named after bicycling advocates.  But we may be moving in that direction, if in small ways and a few locations.

One of those locales is San Antonio--specifically, the University of Texas campus in that city.  There, an old information booth has been turned into the Tito Bradshaw Bicycle Repair Shop.

Tito Bradshaw/. Photo by Scott Ball.

Now, the fact that a campus structure has been re-purposed as a bicycle repair shop shows us that the bicycling community has some sort of presence at the school.  Just as important, the fact that it's been named after Tito Bradshaw means that at least some people within that community--and at least a few outside it--know about his work as an activist and the owner of Bottom Bracket Bicycle Shop.

Plans to convert the booth into a repair shop were already in the works when, in May, he was struck and killed by an intoxicated  driver while riding his bicycle.  He was only 35 years old.  Now, we can hope, his work and community spirit will continue--and expand.

Cyclists on bridge memorialize Tito Bradshaw. Photo by Bonnie Arbitter.

She's 14. And She's Black. That Can Only Mean....

Mary Barton found herself lying on the ground, her hands cuffed behind her.

She rode her bike on someone's property. Or so the owner of said property said.  Said property owner called the police.  Two officers showed up.  One of them told her she could leave, but the second officer told her to stop.

Officer #2 claimed the bike was stolen and demanded identification.  She said she didn't have to produce it  (Apparently, she was paying attention in her civics class!) and, furthermore, the bike is hers and she's had it since December.  Then the cop pulled out his pepper spray and told her to call her mom. 

Mary Burton is 14 years old.  If you haven't already watched the video, you might have guessed that she's black.  Oh, and she's in North Little Rock, Arkansas.

Her brother, a year older, rushes to her aid and both are up against the police car.  Mary fell to the ground, her hands cuffed behind her.

Well, I guess those cops at least believe in gender equality:  Usually, it's the guys who get stopped for riding a bicycle (or driving) while black.  

When You're In Sierra Leone, Look For Stylish

Go to your local bike shop and ask for "Stylish".

Depending on the shop, you might be shown an elegant city bike or colorful jersey.  But it's not likely that someone in the shop will answer to it.

That is, unless your shop is in Sierra Leone.

Well, Stylish's (I never thought I'd use a possessive form of that word!) workplace isn't exactly a bike shop.  But it does connect people with bikes.  To be exact, he's the country manager for Village Bicycle Project, a US-based charity that focuses on sustainable transportation in Africa.  

Stylish.  Photo by Tom Owen

He has a workshop where he fixes bikes, and he does workshops in which he teaches people--particularly women and girls--how to ride bikes.  In his country, and others, women aren't taught how to ride because of notions that we can lose our virginity to a bicycle saddle. (Hmm...I guess it's a good thing I learned how to ride when I was still male!)  This not only robs them of the joy of cycling, it also limits their freedom and time they have to themselves, as they are often balancing family duties with outside work and/or school.  Having a bicycle increases their mobility, and options.

In addition to his bicycle-related work, Stylish has also, for the past six years, run a feeding program in the town of Lunsar.   In August, torrential rains make it impossible to harvest crops and a lot of people go hungry.  Last year, during that month, he provided meals for 80 neighborhood kids; in return, they had to attend English and Math lessons.  "I don't want to just create another thing where I am giving and they are taking," he explains.  This project, he says, is funded entirely by donations from people he has met personally, both in Sierra Leone and abroad.

With all he does, is it any wonder that 26-year-old Stylish has won his country's Young Philanthropist of the Year award?  

Although he was given the award as Abdul Karim Karama, the name he was given at birth, if you ever go to Sierra Leone, don't ask for him by that name. Remember, he's Stylish.  

Celebration Rides

Yesterday's post was rather depressing, if necessary.  So today I'll be a bit more cheerful.  Or, at least, I'll follow Walt Whitman and celebrate myself.

Last Thursday, on the Fourth, I said I'd "sneak in" a ride before going to a barbecue with friends.  Well, that barbecue started a bit later than planned and, of course, there was no rule about being there when it started.  

When does a barbecue "start" anyway?  When the first burger or chicken wing is placed on the grill?  Or when the first one is eaten?  Even if you can fix a "start" time, when is someone "late" for a barbecue?  When the food runs out?  

Cyclists Resting at the Top of Pendle Hill by Gosha Gibek

Anyway, the ride I "snuck" in took me to Connecticut and back:  137 kilometers, or about 85 miles.  

A ride and a barbecue:  Really, what more could I want on my birthday--which just happens to be US Independence Day!


The other day, I celebrated another "birthday".  On Sunday, the 7th, I took another ride to Connecticut. I took a longer route, though, from Rye to the Nutmeg State, over a series of roads that climbed ridges and looped around farms north of Greenwich.  Then I descended one of those ridges into the town of Greenwich.  In all, I rode 169 kilometers, or 105 miles.

When I set out on my ride, though, I didn't realize I was celebrating another "birthday":  It's something that occurred to me while I was climbing one of the ridges.  On that day, exactly ten years ago (7 July 2009), I had my gender reassignment surgery.  It kept me off my bike for a few months and I started this blog not long after I started riding again.

Oh, and while I was riding/celebrating, the US Women's Soccer/Football team won the World Cup.  If I were just a little more self-centered, I'd say they did it for me, or there was some sort of cosmic convergence.  But I have just enough humility to believe in coincidences that I can't explain.

Then again, when you can celebrate, do you really need to explain?

How Many More?

This year is only half-over.  Here in New York City, more cyclists have already been killed by motorists than met such a fate in all of 2018.

The fifteenth and latest such victim is 28-year-old artist Devra Freelander.  A week ago, she was riding on Bushwick Avenue when a cement truck hit her.  

Devra Freelander

I am very familiar with Bushwick Avenue, a 10 kilometer long thoroughfare that cuts through the center of Brooklyn, from Greenpoint in the northwest to East New York in the southeast.  It is perhaps most famous for being part of Robert F. Kennedy's walking tour, which is said to have changed his politics prior to his 1968 Presidential campaign.  Today, it serves as a conduit for hundreds, if not thousands, of people--mostly young--who pedal to their jobs or clients in Manhattan.  

It also is, unfortunately, a prime route for trucks like the one that struck Devra Freelander.  While gentrification, in one degree or another, has taken hold in the neighborhoods (with the exception of Brownsville) along Bushwick Avenue, there are still industrial areas near the ends of the avenue--in East New York and East Williamsburg, where Ms. Freelander met her unfortunate fate.

Bushwick Avenue, for most of its length, has two lanes in each direction.  Because it's a major thoroughfare, traffic is usually heavy and there isn't much room to maneuver--especially for vehicles as large as cement trucks.  Worse yet, most trucks don't offer their drivers good sight lines, especially on narrow city streets.

What exacerbates the problem is that the city does little to enforce regulations on trucks or other commercial vehicles.  As a result, truck drivers frequently hurtle along at well above the speed limit--as the driver of the truck that struck Devra Freelander did.  Also, trucks are often operated outside of their legally-designated routes.  The NYPD's 90th Precinct, which covers the area where Ms. Freelander was killed, has issued only five tickets in 2019 to truckers operating outside their legal routes:  something--you guessed it--the driver was doing at the time he struck Ms. Freelander.

I don't want to make light of this situation, but there is a "You can't make this up!" aspect of the story.  Devra Freelander, the artist, made sculptures and video art that examined climate change, geological time and technocapitalism.  And she was killed by a cement truck while riding her bicycle.  

The year is only half-over, and more cyclists have been killed by motorists than in all of 2018. Devra Freelander is the latest.  How many more must meet her fate before my city gets serious about enforcing its regulations on trucks?

How Gentlemen Travel

We've all seen images of well-dressed, tophatted men astride high-wheel bicycles during cycling's first heyday.

We all know that those high-wheelers disappeared once the "safety" bicycle--with two wheels more of the same size, the rear driven by a chain and sprockets--was invented.

What if the bicycle "evolved" in a different direction?  How would the world be a different place?

Could we be looking at well-tailored gentlemen (and ladies) on unicycles?

Artists: Guy and Rodd

In The Saddle, Through The Eyes Of A Bee

About a decade ago, New York City, my hometown, legalized beekeeping.  Other cities have done likewise, and in some other cities, the practice has always been legal.  A result is that the number of urban beekeepers has grown exponentially.  

In the Big Apple (Now there's something a bee would like!), the first apiarians were amateur hobbyists.  These days, however, there are beekeeping businesses in formerly-abandoned industrial buildings as well as other "recycled" spaces.  As you might expect, beekeepers in New York and other cities are selling honey--some with interesting and unique flavors--in farmers' markets and even to stores.  They also, ironically, sell bees and hives to farmers and fruit growers.

Another trend in large and mid-sized cities coincided with the re-discovery of beekeeping.  Since you're reading this blog (Aren't you smart!), you have probably guessed what it is:  bicycling, for transportation as well as recreation.  Just as hives were being built in old warehouses, bike lanes and other infrastructure were blazing their way through urban neighborhoods.

It makes sense, then, that these two trends would meet at some point.

More precisely, they have met in someone:  Jana Kinsman, founder of Bike a Bee in Chicago.

Jana Kinsman. Photo by Adam Alexander.

Seven years ago, she was working in graphic design but wanted a change.  To help satisfy a lifelong curiosity about bees, and insects in general, she took a winter beekeeping class with the Chicago Honey Co-op.  After that finishing that class, she went to Eugene, Oregon to apprentice with a beekeeper.  She brought the skills she learned there back to the Windy City, and began a Kickstarer campaign that raised $8000.  With that, and her 1974 Peugeot PX-10 (You can do damn near anything with that bike!), she "started Bike a Bee out of my apartment," she says.

Jana with bike and bees.  Photo by Brent Knepper.

In the beginning, her operation was in her apartment.  "All of the equipment was stored in my bedroom and we extracted honey in my living room," she recalls. (I must say that I've lived with housemates who did less to contribute their fair share of the rent, and who were far more dangerous!)  Today, Bike a Bee maintains more than 50 hives in community gardens, schools and urban farms on the city's South Side.  She pedals between those sites to conduct inspections and collect honey.  From those places, she transports honey all over the city, where it is sold in farmers' markets and stores.

She says she has yet to find the need for a motor vehicle.  What's more, working by bicycle has other benefits.  Not only does it keep her physically active, it helps her to be more mindful and enjoy the community around her.  "When you're on your bike, you're slower," she explains. You're able to take things in more.  Stop whenever you want, wherever you want.  You can see nature more, the blooms in the trees.  You connect much more with the world around you by bike."

Could it be that from the saddle of her Peugeot PX-10, Jana Kinsman is seeing her city through the eyes of a bee?

Jana with bees. Photo by Adam Alexander.

When The Tide Was Out

The other day I took a ride to Point Lookout. Despite the warmth and humidity, I didn’t see many people along the Rockway beach and boardwalk, or on the Nassau County south shore.  I felt as if I had the seaside to myself.  Well, almost....

...and until I got to Point Lookout.

The tide was out.   But I behaved myself.  I’m not proud of myself:  What else could I do?

I enjoyed the ride nonetheless.

Fourth Wheels

Today is US Independence Day.

I'm going to sneak in a bike ride before going to a barbecue with friends.  (I've been riding quite a bit lately; I haven't been writing about it because I've been taking familiar rides, e.g., to Greenwich and the Rockaways and Point Lookout.)  One thing I won't do, though, is decorate my bike for the occasion.

I mean, really, why should I when one can see creations like these?:

From Cool Mom Picks

Happy Fourth.  Oh, and it's my birthday.  

The Right To Mobility

Are bicycles a human right?

The organizers of a workshop don't ask this question directly.  But they could have:  Their event, to be held on the University of California-Davis campus on 1-2 November, is concerned with "mobility justice."

The school's Feminist Research Institute is inviting "emerging scholars" whose work "engages issues of race and inequality in studies of bicycling and sustainable transportation."  These junior scholars and graduate students will discuss ways in which "complex systems of history, power and oppression affect people's movement and ability to live, work and play."  The goal is to make bicycling, along with "new mobilities" and other forms of sustainable transportation, "accessible and desirable to all."

This sounds interesting and necessary.  As I have said in other posts, bicycles and other sustainable forms of transportation are vital to our future for all sorts of reasons, from mitigating climate change to making cities more habitable.  But they're also vital, in some places, for giving people any sort of mobility at all:  Think of jungles and other rural areas where, even if people could afford cars and trucks, they wouldn't be able to use them.

Well, judging from what UC-Davis Feminist Research Institute says about its upcoming workshop, they seem to think mobility is a human right.  I would agree, and bicycles are certainly part of that.

We Love Our Bikes--But Not The Way She Loves Hers

If you read this blog regularly, you probably "love" your bicycle(s).

I use the word "love" in quotations because, although most of us would say that our bikes make our lives better in any number of ways, what we mean by "love" can be very different.  

For me, my bicycles have meant that I can commute without having to deal with traffic jams, crowded subway or bus stations and the costs of gasoline, tolls and parking, among other things.  My bikes have also given me many hours of pleasure, whether I've pedaled the back streets of the Bronx or Belleville, a path through Cambodian rice fields or jungles or a seaside ramble. Oh, and I've even moved my possessions from one apartment to another on my bike.

In short, I have a difficult time imagining my life without bikes or bicycling.  Others could say the same thing, though for very different reasons.  

Esther Deaver is one such person.  Known as "The Bicycle Lady" to residents of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, she not only depends on her bike; she lives on or with (depending on your point of view) it.  She doesn't own much else in this world, and most of her meals consist of what she finds or  local residents and merchants give her. 

As you have probably realized, she lives on the streets.  There are a number of stories about how she got there, but the most verifiable accounts say that she went to Winston-Salem with a church group and lost touch with her family.  Not surprisingly, mental health issues seem to have played a role.

She has never tried to harm anyone, and attempts to place her in institutions have been unsuccessful.  So some people keep an eye out for her and try to help her in whatever ways they can.

Other people, though, are not so benevolent.  One took her bike recently.  An anonymous benefactor left her a new one.  The gift has everything she likes except for a banana seat and sissy bar.  But the owner of a local bike shop says he can remedy that for her.

Even with that anonymous gift, she still feels sad about losing her old bike.  It may have been the sort of machine at which many of us would have turned up our noses.  But she loved that bike in ways most of us could never understand.

The Idaho Stop Comes To Oregon

A couple of months ago, I wrote that Jonathan Maus, the editor/publisher of Bike Portland, was trying to persuade the Oregon legislature to legalize the "Idaho Stop."  In essence, it allows cyclists to treat a red traffic signal as a "stop" sign and a "stop" sign as a "yield" sign.  What this means is that a cyclist wouldn't have to stop unless traffic were crossing the intersection.  That allows cyclists to get out in front of the traffic approaching him or her from behind, and to cross ahead of incoming traffic. These maneuvers prevent cyclists from being hit by turning vehicles.

Of course, people who don't cycle don't understand as much. They think that cyclists must behave exactly like drivers and  stop when and where the drivers stop.  They also think we are supposed to ride as far to the right as possible, which of course exponentially increases our chances of getting flattened by a turning car or truck--or of getting "doored."

Apparently, 28 such people in the Oregon legislature think this way.  Fortunately, 31 others "get it", and voted to bring the "Idaho Stop" to Oregon on Tuesday 25 June.  The bill will now go to Governor Kate Brown's desk for signing, and will become law six months from now, on New Year's Day of 2020.

What He Learned From The Army And Huck Finn

In the military, and in other large, bureaucratic organizations, it's often said that it's "easier to get forgiveness than permission."

What that means is that if you know something is useful, constructive or just good, it's best just to go ahead and do it rather than to wait for approval, which might be denied because of some technicality or mere whim.  

One thing is for certain:  Whatever you want to do, or get, won't come as a result of prayer.  Such great minds as Huckleberry Finn have reminded us of that:  

Miss Watson she took me in the closet and prayed, but nothing come of it. She told me to pray every day, and whatever I asked for I would get it. But it warn't so. I tried it. Once I got a fish-line, but no hooks. It warn't any good to me without hooks. I tried for the hooks three or four times, but somehow I couldn't make it work. By and by, one day, I asked Miss Watson to try for me, but she said I was a fool. She never told me why, and I couldn't make it out no way.

Well, it seems that someone has, at a very young age, internalized the lessons of Huck and the Army:

Let's hope that he retains his healthy cynicism about prayer and forgiveness--but learns that stealing is, well, not good for one's karma.

When I Say "Never"...

Last Friday, I did something I said I'd never do again.  Actually, you might say I did two things I vowed not to do.

Yes, I bought a mountain bike: my first in nearly two decades.  I admit, it doesn't have the latest technology and wasn't even a high-end bike in its day.  But I don't plan to do some of the crazy stunts I did when I was younger.  

When I say the bike wasn't high-end, I mean that it was the lowest-level mountain bike its manufacturer was offering.  Which leads me to the second thing I said I'd never do:  I bought a Cannondale mountain bike.  An M-300 from 1996, to be exact.

Now, I don't have anything against Cannondale bikes per se.  I realize that, like certain saddles, some people just like the ride of them.  The Cannondales I had felt particularly harsh.  Then again, they were some of the company's early road bikes.  I've heard that C-dale refined their offerings, but I decided that since I generally prefer steel bikes, I'd stick to them.

The way I figure it, though, is that a Cannondale mountain bike won't be as harsh as one of its road bikes because of the mountain bike's  fatter tires and the slacker geometry.  Also, I don't reckon I'll take this bike on the sorts of long rides I take with my Mercians.

Oh, and the bike has a Rock Shox Indy fork and a suspension seatpost.  I plan to get rid of the latter: I can replace it with a long  27.2mm rigid seatpost I have lying around.  I'll leave the Rock Shox on the bike for now and if I don't like it, or just don't want to maintain it, I might switch to a rigid fork.

The rest of the bike, though, I'm going to leave as-is, at least until the parts wear out.  The only thing I absolutely must change is the right shift lever:

When I pointed it out to the man from whom I bought the bike, he knocked the price down.  I told him I was willing to pay his original asking price, as he let me ride it and I found that the bike tracked straight and everything else was working as it should. (I tried shifting the rear derailleur by hand, and I could see that it will shift fine with a functioning shifter.)  In a way, that broken shifter is just as well because I don't like twist-grip shifters*.  I plan to replace it with a cheap Sun Race thumb shifter and, if and when the rest of the drivetrain wears out, I will decide whether I want to "upgrade" to 8 or 9 speeds--or turn the bike into a single-speed, something I might do if I decide this is a "snow" bike.

So, here I am, with my first mountain bike--and my first aluminum frame--in ages.  Don't worry:  I'm not going rogue!

Oh, and the man from whom I bought the bike had every intention of selling it--unlike the fellow I wrote about yesterday.




*When I say I don't like something, I don't necessarily mean that anything is inherently wrong with it.  It's just a  matter of my personal preferences. For example I know some of you like bar-end shifters and if you do, you should use them.  They're just not for me. I'd say the same for certain saddles.

Sold--By Mistake

A onetime cycling buddy, Lewis, had his bike sold out from under him.  He didn't realize what had happened until several years later.

It's not that he was stupid or gave up riding.  He'd joined the Navy and was sent to far-flung locales.  He was in one of those places when his term of enlistment was about to end, and he signed up for another.  Four years later, he re-upped again.

All told, Lewis stayed in the Navy long enough to retire from it.  He said that, in a way, he couldn't really blame his family for selling his Frejus track bike--all-chrome, with blue decals that looked like stained-glass windows--because they really didn't know when he'd be back.  Even though he found other rides, and would eventually have a custom frame built for him, he missed that Frejus.  "It was the first really nice bike I had," he recalled.

The only thing that really upset him, he said, was that his parents sold the bike for $25.  Even in those days, that was a bargain price for a high-end bike that was in good shape.  "They didn't know any better," he explained.  "To them, a bike was a bike, and they were happy to get that much money for a used bike."

I hadn't thought about Lewis in a long time, until I heard about Allan Steinmetz of Newton, Massachusetts. Like Lewis' parents,  he sold a bike that had great meaning to another member of his family.  The bike, a Motobecane Grand Touring from the 1969-early 1973 era.  I say that from my knowledge of Motobecanes and looking at catalogue scans of that era.  Also, Steinmetz says it was new his father-in-law gave it to his wife "more than 45 years ago," when she was 16.  



He didn't say how much he got for the bike. But whatever it was, I'm sure it won't make his wife happy.  Her father was a Holocaust survivor and "made it a priority to give his family the very best."  Now, most of us wouldn't say the bike was "the very best," but it certainly was a very good touring bike for its time.  The frame was made from 1020, a carbon steel used in French bikes that weren't built from name-brand tubing like Vitus, Reynolds or Columbus.  That long-cage Huret Allvit rear derailleur is certainly a time capsule, as are the Huret levers that could be used to paddle canoes in a pinch. 

If I saw the bike in a garage sale, three things about it would tempt me:  the frame's long touring geometry, the Ideale 80 saddle and, best of all, the Stronglight 49D cranks.

Anyway, Steinmetz is pleading with the bike's buyer to return it.  "I can't win," he lamented.  "The only thing I can win is by getting this bike back."  His wife wanted to "give the bike to our granddaughter one day, which I didn't know," he said.

In a way, I could understand how and why Lewis' parents sold his bike.  But I wonder how Steinmetz could have "accidentally" sold a bike which, he surely knew, had so much meaning for his wife, whether or not she actually rode it.

From Mexico City To Colorado, And A New Purpose

There are times when I believe that cycling is the only reason why I have anything that can be described as mental or emotional health.  I become sad, even depressed, when I can't ride for significant periods of time.  Also, I took two bike tours that were, at least in part, attempts to restore myself to some degree of sanity, and another led me to the single most important transformation I had to make.  

The latter ride took me up the Col du Galibier as well as other famed Tour de France and Giro d'Italia climbs in the Alps.  I started that tour in Lyon, France as a guy named Nick.  Two years later, I began my current life as a middle-aged lady named Justine.

The other two tours followed crises in my life, one of which culminated in a sort of minor breakdown.  In both of those rides, I spent weeks--actually, months on the first tour--on my bike in foreign lands, living on a student's wages or less.  Don't get me wrong:  I experienced all sorts of pleasures on both of those rides, as well as the one in the Alps.  But they also were power-washes, if you will, against the detritus of some past experiences that had been causing me even more internal distress than I'd realized--or, perhaps, was willing to admit.

So when I came across Rafael's story, I felt as if I'd met someone after my own heart.  Of course, I don't imagine that his ride from Mexico City to Colorado will lead him to the sorts of changes I made.  But he does talk about the restorative powers of his ride, and how it led him to a mission, if you will:  fixing bicycles for underprivileged people in his newly-adopted community.

The next time someone asks you why you ride, ask yourself (and that person):  What would your life be like if you didn't ride?

Is This What It Takes To Charge A Driver Who Strikes A Cyclist?

If you read the post I wrote yesterday, you could tell I was angry.  I still am.  Another story that came my way intensified my rage.

In Omaha, a 26-year-old woman was arrested after hitting a cyclist with her car.

You can be forgiven for thinking that I should view this arrest as "progress" after a driver in my hometown got off with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from a police officer after he killed a cyclist.



But the driver wasn't charged with any injury she caused the cyclist. Instead, she was cited for DUI, reckless driving, child neglect (her infant was improperly restrained in the rear of her car) and having an open alcohol container.  

I guess I should be grateful that she was cited for anything at all.  I can't help but to think, however, that the only reason why she was charged with anything at all is that the cyclist in question was an Omaha police officer.

Death For Bike Messenger, Tea And Sympathy For Driver

Warning:  The video near the end of this post may be too much for some of you to take.

A couple of years ago, a woman was attacked and raped not far from where I live.  She'd been walking home at 3:45 on a Sunday morning when she was set upon by a group of young men who dragged her into a darkened parking lot.

Most people were, rightly, outraged.  But a few, even at such a late date and liberal neighborhood, asked, "What was she doing out at that time?"

The explanation, it turned out, almost exactly matched what I'd surmised:  She'd been working a Saturday night shift at a bar.   To the question of why she didn't take a cab or Uber or something, the answer was simple:  She lived only a block and a half away from the bar and had never before encountered any trouble.

It was a chilling reminder of the days, which I remember, when the first questions people--even other women--asked upon hearing of a sexual attack were, "What was she wearing?"  "What was she doing there at that hour?"  The implication was, of course, that she'd "asked for it"--even if the woman had been wearing "scrubs" and was in front of a church in the middle of the afternoon. (Yes, I heard of such a case once!)

I found myself thinking about such victims after a story  that made news in our area:  A 20-year-old female bike messenger was struck and killed yesterday morning, just as the workweek was beginning, in the bustling Flatiron district of Manhattan.

One reason I found myself thinking about the rape victims I mentioned is that news coverage seemed to emphasize two major points, one being that the messenger was a young woman.  Some of the coverage expressed more grief, if in a patronizing way, than she might've received had she checked the "M" box.   But some of those same reports--and, of course, other coverage--seemed to convey a tone of suspicion and scorn reserved for the rape victims I mentioned.  You could almost hear some news editor wondering, "What was she doing, working a job like that?"

The other salient point of the coverage, which also turned into another way to blame the victim, was that she was riding "in the middle of the street" and "not in a bike lane" when she was struck.

Robyn Hightman

I am very familiar with the block--Sixth Avenue between West 23th and 24th Streets--where the Robyn Hightman, recently relocated from Virginia, lost her life.  There is indeed a bike lane, which is frequently congested.  Anyone who makes deliveries, whether on foot, bike or in a motorized vehicle, knows that it's all about speed.  A messenger simply can't move quickly enough in a lane crowded with tourists on Citibikes.  

More to the point, though, is that the way the bike lane, like most others in this city, is designed.  Because it's at the curb's edge, and the "stop" line at each intersection is the same for bikes as it is for motor vehicles, turns--which you make a lot of if you're a messenger--can be dangerous if a motor vehicle is turning in the same direction.  This arrangement also makes crossing major intersection--23rd Street at Sixth Avenue is one--difficult, if not dangerous.

Moreover, when there are flexible or no barriers--as is the case on the Sixth Avenue lane--delivery vehicles and Ubers frequently pull in and out, especially in as busy an area as the one I'm mentioning. 

What makes the shaming of Robyn Hightman all the more galling is that the driver of the vehicle, who claimed he didn't know he hit her, got off with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from a police officer who arrived at the scene.  The driver claims this incident is his first "accident" (the word he used) in 14 years of driving for his employer.  An investigation, however, revealed that the truck he was driving has been cited with 83 summonses since 2015.  Most were for parking violations, but at least two were for speeding.



In 2018, ten cyclists were killed by motorists on New York City streets.  Robyn Hightman was the 12th in 2019, and the year isn't half-over.  And the driver got tea and sympathy--along with an assurance he wasn't in trouble--from an NYPD officer.

Bicycle Expressway Opens In Beijing

Just over a year ago, I wrote that construction of a 6.5 kilometer bicycle expressway was to begin in September.  It was designed to link the residential neighborhoods of Huilongguan in Beijing's Changping district with a rapidly-developing high-tech zone in the Haidan district, where about one in six Huilongguan residents work.

Well, that expressway has just opened. So why is it called an "expressway" instead of a "highway" or "lane"?  Well, it actually does speed up the commute, which could take an hour and a half because several busy highways had to be crossed.  The new Beijing bicycle expressway is elevated, so it crosses over those highways as well as other busy intersections.  As a result, the trip can be done in 25 minutes when a cyclist rides at the 20kph (12.5mph) speed  limit.

One really interesting feature of this new three-lane highway is traffic lights that allow managers to switch the direction of the center lane to accommodate traffic flow during the morning and evening rush hours.
  



Another stage of this bicycle highway is planned.  When completed, it will reach Zhuongguancun, often referred to as China's Silicon Valley.  Nearly one in five Huilongguan residents work there.

Could Beijing once again become the "Bicycle City" western tourists saw during the 1980s and 1990s?