Can I Ride Tomorrow?

For the past week, I haven't gone to the college.  Like many other educators, I am working online.  

While it's been interesting as a learning experience, I can't say I like it.  So much of the work I do with my students is driven by questions and discussions that, as best as I can tell, arise from the interactions between us.

Also, I miss the ride into, and from, the college.  Under normal circumstances, not having to go to the workplace for a while is relaxing, even if I am doing work to prepare for my (and my students') return.  But now I am home because circumstances beyond my control are spiraling out of control. Or so it seems.

I managed to quell my anxiety yesterday, when I rode to Connecticut, and the other day, when I took a ramble through parts of Queens and Brooklyn to the South Shore.  Riding felt great, and allowed me to have a couple of good nights' sleep.  I must say, though, that in their way, the rides had a surreal quality:  On weekday afternoons, major streets like Utica Avenue in Brooklyn, Boston Post Road (a.k.a. US 1) in Westchester County and Greenwich Avenue in Connecticut were almost as free of motor vehicle traffic as some trails normally are!

And, say what you will about Daylight Savings Time, I liked that I was able to start my ride to Connecticut after the stroke of noon--after I'd finished the work I needed to do--and get home before dark.  

But I didn't ride today, in part because it rained pretty heavily this morning and early in the afternoon, and I just decided to get more work done.  I'm just hoping to have some time to ride tomorrow, and over the weekend.  

You see, I've heard about the shelter-in-place orders in China, much of Europe, and the San Francisco Bay area. Mayor Bill de Blasio wants to do the same here, though Governor Andrew Cuomo says he can't:  Only the state can issue such an order, he explains.

I hope he's right.  Or, at least, I hope that the conditions of the lockdown aren't as dire as I've heard.  Early reports said that people in San Francisco couldn't even go for a walk (unless it's to go to work at a "vital" job, a doctor's appointment or to buy food or medicine) or  bike ride, but I've since read dispatches saying they can ride or walk solo, as long as they keep their distance from others.

If anything, if we're riding, even in small groups, I should think we're less of a danger to ourselves and others than people who are riding subways or other mass transit--or taxis or Ubers.  I can't think of any time when I've ridden solo and come closer than three meters (about 10 feet) from another person.  And, in small group rides, we're usually at least a few feet apart.

Plus, we, as cyclists, are healthier than most people.  I've read and heard the stories about "gym rats" who still got sick with the coronavirus, but from what I understand, getting exercise and engaging in other healthy practices (All right, I just ate a San Giuseppe pastry!) are at less risk of getting just about any illness and, if we do get sick, have a better chance of recovering--and not spreading our illnesses to others.

Spring officially begins at just before midnight.  There is hope, I guess.

A Real Cycling Condition (;-)

I don't deny that a lot of riding--especially without proper conditioning or an ill-fitting bike--can cause pain, numbness and other problems.  

I also don't deny that long hours in the saddle--especially if that saddle is wrong for the rider--can cause discomfort and even dysfunction in the genital area.

But it seems that every few years someone manages to whip up hysteria about how cycling causes sterility or worse.  Back in the day, some of us used to joke that those folks were right and we indeed had "bike balls."

Yes, cycling can make you radioactive down there! ;-)

At The Right Angle

In a few posts, I've complained about poorly-conceived, -designed and -constructed bike lanes and paths.  They lead to nowhere and expose the cyclists to all sorts of hazards.

Sometimes those hazards are embedded in the lane or trail itself.  Among the worst are railroad tracks, especially if they run parallel (or nearly so) in proximity to the cycling route.  Ideally, tracks and lanes (or paths) should cross at right (90 degree) angles or as close to it as possible. 

If the tracks cross at a more oblique angle, the  tires can graze against the rails, or get lodged against them, and send the cyclist tumbling to the ground.  That's happened to at least half a dozen riders on the Centennial Trail where it crosses the Burlington Northern-Santa Fe tracks in Arlington, Washington, 64 km north of Seattle. At that point, the trail crosses the tracks at an angle of less than 45 degrees--or near the one o'clock position.  (A 90 degree angle crosses at the 3 o'clock position.)

Recognizing the problem, the Arlington City Council has just awarded a contract to realign the trail so that the trail, which heads north, would turn east about 15 meters (50 feet) from the tracks so that it can cross at a 90 degree angle.

City engineer Ryan Morrison says the project will take about two to three weeks, and that it will timed to coincide, as best as possible, with improvements Burlington Northern-Santa Fe has planned for that same area.  That means the work will start around late May or early June.

 

Fall Classics?

A few weeks ago, I wrote about how the coronavirus might keep you from getting the new bike you want. 

The other day, I wondered whether quarantines or containment zones might keep us from doing some of our regular rides--or force us to re-route them.

Now I've learned that bike races, just like other sporting events can be affected.  The Sea Otter Classic, which had been scheduled for next month in Monterey, California,  has been rescheduled for 1-4 October.  

Of course I understand organizers' reasons for re-scheduling the event.  And, given that Italy is basically under lockdown because of its virus outbreak, it's no surprise that this year's Strade Bianche and Milano-San Remo one-day classic races have been postponed.  So, I wonder whether upcoming "classics" further north in Europe, such as Gent-Wevelgem and Paris-Roubaix will also be affected, as the scope of the outbreak is spreading and France has banned gatherings of 1000 or more people.

If those races are postponed or cancelled, what will happen to the Giro d'Italia, which runs in May, or the Tour de France or Vuelta a Espana if the epidemic engulfs those countries.   
David Lappartient, the president of the Union de Cyclisme Internationale, says that canceling the Giro or the Tour would be a "disaster" for cycling.  He seemed more optimistic about the prospects for the Tour, not only because he's French, but also because the worst of the crisis may pass before the race starts.

The Tour's grand depart is scheduled for 27 July--a week earlier than normal--because of the Tokyo Olympics, which themselves may be postponed.

Perhaps the Sea Otter won't be the only major cycling event in October after all. Or, to put it another way, the World Series might not be the only Fall Classic this year!

Will Cyclists Be Locked Down?

The news can hit close to home. Sometimes, too close.

By now, you've heard that the whole country of Italy is basically on lockdown, due to the coronavirus.  The prime minister has told people to stay home and that they need permission for "non-essential" travel.

Now an area of New Rochelle, about 35 kilometers from my apartment, is a "containment zone," where National Guard troops have been posted.  

I frequently cycle to or through New Rochelle.  My rides to Connecticut or northern Westchester County usually take me through one part of the city or another.  

Seeing how many Italian cities (and Seattle) have become "ghost towns", I have to wonder whether the New Rochelle quarantine will be extended--and to what degree will people's movements be restricted.  Will they stop us from riding our bikes?

Cyclist Pays Price For Dollar Van

Some of my most harrowing encounters have been with "dollar vans."

For those of you who don't live here in New York City, dollar vans typically operate in "transportation deserts" that are far from subway and bus routes.  While they follow more or less set routes, their itineraries or schedules are not published; rather, people usually learn of them by word of mouth.

Dollar vans are said to have begun during the 1980 transit strike.  At that time, the New York City transit fare was 50 cents; after the strike, it climbed to 60 cents (and to 75 cents a year later, now it's $2.75). The vans operated all over the city, as they would during the 2005 transit workers' walkout. Between those labor actions, and since then, the  vans have served mainly the aforementioned "deserts".  

This might sound good, even though the ride now costs $2.00, but the problem is that these vans are not as regulated as taxis or even Uber-type car services are in New York.  So, if you take a dollar van, you run a greater risk of riding in an unsafe (not to mention unsanitary) vehicle.  Also, because there is so little regulation, drivers tend to be more aggressive and sometimes get into fights with each other over passengers and routes.  Plus, more than one accident investigation has revealed that the driver of a dollar van had a suspended drivers' license--or no drivers' license at all.  And no insurance.

Finally, at least in my experience, dollar van drivers' aggression toward each other is, too often, transferred to anyone and anything else they encounter on the road.  It's not uncommon for them to cut off other drivers, or to drive at pedestrians or cyclists who have the right of way.  I think the only reason dollar van drivers don't hit more cyclists than they do is that, well, there aren't as many cyclists in the neighborhoods where they operate as, ironically, in the more transportation-rich areas.

I was reminded of what I've just described yesterday, when I heard about a woman on a bicycle who was struck by a dollar van at Flatbush Avenue and Avenue U, in a decidedly un-hipster neighborhood of Brooklyn.   



The driver thought he was going to get away with it when he leapt from his car and began to run.  Fortunately, though, a bunch of people who just happened to be there tackled the guy.  


I hope the woman recovers.  Last I heard, she was in "serious but stable" condition and faces losing a leg.

They Got A McCoy, But Not The Real Burglar

I'm almost never an "early adopter" when it comes to technology.  Two years after getting an iPhone, I'm still adapting to--and sometimes resisting--it.  Some features are nice, but there are some functions I rarely, if ever use.  In fact, I keep some of them turned off.

One of those features is the tracking device.  Sometimes I'll use it to help me find directions and, I suppose, if I were lost or in some sort of emergency, it might help me to find my way or for someone to find me.  But I think it's just creepy that my whereabouts could be known at all times.

Actually, it's more than creepy.  It can be disruptive, even dangerous.  That's something Zachary McCoy of Gainesville, Florida learned the hard way.

Zachary McCoy

He'd been using RunKeeper to track his cycling as Google location services were activated on his Android phone.  During one ride nearly a year ago, he passed by the same house three times in the space of an hour.

It just happened that the house was the scene of a burglary.

Google shared this location data.  It wasn't enough for law enforcement officials to identify him personally, at least not immediately.  

But he would later receive an e-mail from Google's legal investigation team, notifying him that local police made a request for information from his account.  The company explained that it would release the data unless he went to court to block it--and that he had seven days to do so.  "I didn't know what it was about, but I knew the police wanted to get something from me," McCoy recalled in a recent interview. "I was afraid I was going to get charged with something, I don't know what."  

He had no previous record, and there police had no reason--other than the data from Google--to suspect him.  His lawyer, Caleb Kenyon, criticized the police for making their decision based on a hunch rather than traditional policing techniques. "This geoforce warrant effectively casts a blind net backwards in time, hoping to ensnare a burglar," Kenyon said.  "This concept is akin to the plotline in many a science fiction film featuring a dystopian, facist government."

Later, the police in Florida withdrew the original location request, claiming that new details emerged that led them to believe that McCoy was not the real culprit.  They would not, however, share what those details were.  

In any event, this incident shows us how far some law enforcement officials will go, and what methods--however flawed--they will use to track down a suspect, even if he or she is potentially innocent. It also begs the question of how things might have turned out for a guy who was riding his bike and minding his own business if he couldn't afford a lawyer and defend himself in court.

Oh, and it reaffirms my commitment to cycling without electronic devices.

 

Leaving A Trail--And A Mystery--Where The Buffalo Roam

Here is something neither I, nor anyone else who lives in my part of the world, has had to do this year:  explain tire tracks in the snow.

We've had very little of the white stuff this winter.  The only real storm, if you can call it that, left us with about two inches--which disappeared within a couple of days--in the middle of January.  There have been a couple of other minor snowfalls; as a result, this season's total has been a mere 4.8 inches, according to the National Weather Service.  That's more than a foot below average, and it means this winter has been the least snowy in 13 years.

While much of Wyoming has received less-than-normal snowfall this winter, the difference between this season and a typical one hasn't been as great, in most parts of the Buffalo State, as it has been in New York.  That is why one man found himself stranded in Sheridan--almost.

He'd gone to visit a rancher friend.  He phoned his wife to say they were going to Sheridan to "pick up a few parts" for his old pickup truck.  Apparently, the store didn't close until 2 am.  His wife was not pleased.

The next morning, a snowstorm raged.  He realized that he'd left his truck downtown, after riding back with his friend.  He pondered asking his wife for a ride, but thought better of it when he realized he could take his bicycle down from the hooks in the ceiling and pump up the tires in no time.  

He left a trail of weaving tracks on the road--and his co-workers wondering why he was covered  with snow and his pants and shoes were so wet.

"No big deal," Rick mumbled on his way to his office.
 

He Was Sitting On Quite The Collection

Some thieves are professionals.  You might say stealing is their job, or even their career.   They might end up in that line of work out of circumstance, for a lack of other options.  Or they may have a compulsion or proclivity.  

(Is someone born to be a thief?  Has anyone ever taken a Myers-Briggs test and learned that he or she is best suited to a life of taking other people's stuff?)

Then there are those who steal to support themselves or others, or habits or hobbies.   That type of crook sometimes changes his or her ways, whether from  a change in life circumstances or getting busted.

Finally, there are the ones whose pilferage is focused on a particular item or category of goods.  They may start off by taking something for their own use or to sell but, for whatever reasons, stealing that specific thing becomes an obsession.

That last category of thieves includes 57-year-old Hiroaki Suda.  A security video showed him taking two seats at a train station and parking lot for bicycles in Higashiosaka, just east of Osaka, Japan.  That led to his arrest on 13 February.  

While admitting to the charges, he told police he'd been stealing bicycle seats for "about 25 years" to "relieve stress at work."  "Gradually," he said, "collecting them turned out to be fun."

How many did he collect? 5800.  At least, that's how many Osaka prefecture police seized from a storage facility Suda rented. 

I'd like to know what's in that collection.  Are there any long-since-discontinued Brooks or special-edition Ideale saddles?  Perhaps there's something from a Japanese maker whose wares were never exported.  Or something made from an exotic material. 

As for his motivation:  Somehow I don't think any therapist has recommended stealing bike seats as a way to relieve work-related stress.

Cheap Jeep?

I recall seeing a Jeep full-suspension mountain bike about fifteen years ago.  It sold for $300.  I thought the price was about $299 too high:  It looked like a lot of cheap Chinese-made bikes sold in big-box stores.

Now, I have no experience with actual Jeeps.  I am sure, however, that the company had nothing to do with manufacturing the bikes and little, if anything, to do with designing it.  It seemed that lending its name to a line of crappy bikes was a cynical ploy to cash in on customers' loyalty to the brand.  

To be fair, Jeep isn't the first company to do such a thing.  Nor will it be the first auto-maker to try to  cash in on the latest trend in cycling:  e-bikes.

The company debuted its first electric bicycle yesterday.  Micah Toll reviewed it for Electrek.  Having no experience with e-bikes, I can't comment on his comparisons with other companies' models.  What I found amusing, however, is his umbrage at the price:  $5899.

That is a lot more expensive than some other e-bikes on the market.  But it's actually a good bit less expensive than, not only other e-bikes, but some non-electric, non-motorized bikes offered by some other companies that also peddle (pun intended) eBikes.  I am talking about Specialized and Santa Cruz, two of the best-known names in the mountain bike world.  Their eBikes cost a good bit more than Jeep's--but less than their top-of-the line mountain bikes, and less yet than Specialized's high-end road bikes.

Don't Worry: You Look Fine!

I once knew a woman who wouldn't ride a bike because she was afraid that it would "mess up" her hair.

I don't know where she got that idea.

White, Male, Single And Five Feet Wide

Coming across two articles got me to thinking about the latest "boom" in bicycling.

While I certainly see more people cycling to work and school, or for pleasure, than I did in my youth, I can't help but to conclude, at least from my own observations,  that the demographics of cycling really haven't changed during the more than four decades I have been a committed cyclist.  

These days, I almost never ride more than a few blocks before I see another cyclist who's old enough to have a driver's license.  Time was when I could ride all day and not see another adult on a bike, even when the weather was nice.  

To be sure, there I see more nonwhite and female cyclists now than I did then.  But most of the folks I see riding on the streets, on the paths or in the parks are white and male--and young.  Apparently, the situation is similar in San Francisco and other cities.  

If bike lanes in that city are indeed "five feet wide, white and male", they are also most likely young and single.  In some parts of this city, I rarely see adults, male or female--let alone families--on bicycles.  I have never had children, but I imagine it can be difficult for families to ride together, especially if the children vary widely in age--and if one has a disability.

I never thought about that last point until I read about the Kamps in Ankeny, Iowa.  Nine years ago, the mother, Angie (who shares my mother's name!) gave birth to triplets--at 25 weeks.  While Annalise, Brenna and Lucy all had complications, Brenna has had it worst, with cerebral palsy, epilepsy, hydrocephalus.  

When they were younger, the girls, Angie and their father Brad rode together on tandem trikes. Now Annalise and Lucy can ride on their own, but it's more difficult for even her mom or dad to ride a bike with Brenna because "she's gotten bigger", which means that "if she leans one way or another, it kind of takes the whole bike down."

Now the Kamps are in the running for The Great Bike Giveaway, its prize being an adaptive tandem cycle in which an adult can ride on the rear.  Whoever gets the most votes wins the bike.

I don't know the Kemps, but I'm rooting for them--and for more people who are unlike the young white male I once was to ride.  Not that I have anything against young white dudes--or single people (I am still one, after all!), but because cycling has opened up the world to me, I want to see more of the world cycling.

A Shift In The Middle Of The Tour

"Brooks" of Retrogrouch frame is so kind.  Last month, we wrote posts on the same topic, days apart, without prior consultation.  He said, "You know what they say about great minds."  Now, I would never, ever give myself such credit.  Really!

Anyway, I wrote about a pair of Simplex bar end shifters, still in their original packaging, I saw at Tony's  Bicycles in Astoria.  I also espied a pair of Shimano bar-ends from the same era (1970s) in Tony's showcase.

Little more than a week later, Brooks wrote his excellent post about bar-end shifters in general.  As he points out, they offer most of the advantages of integrated brake/shift levers ("brifters") without their vulnerability to damage--and expense.  Brooks then discussed some of the different bar-end shifters made during the 1970s--when they seem to have been the most popular--and today.  

He does mention something very interesting but almost entirely forgotten:  Campagnolo has offered bar-end shifters at least since the early 1950s-- around the time they introduced the Gran Sport, their first parallelogram rear derailleur.  The funny thing is that when that derailleur first saw the light of day, Campagnolo wasn't offering a down-tube shifter--which are commonly associated with classic Campy-equipped racing bikes-- to go with it.  Why?

Well, it has to do with front derailleurs of the time.   You see, front changers at the time weren't operated by Bowden-type cable controls.  Instead, a direct lever moved the cage that shifted the chain from one chainring to another.  These are sometimes jokingly referred to as "suicide shifters" because, in order to make the shift, riders had to spread their legs.  

That arrangement also meant that riders did all of their shifting with their right hands.  (Nearly all rear derailleurs are operated by levers on the right side of the bike.) During the 1949 Tour de France, dozens of riders switched their "suicide" levers to the then-new bar end (pass-vitesses) shifters developed by Jacques Souhart--but only for the front derailleur.  They continued to use downtube shifters--mounted on the right side of the handlebars-- for their rear derailleurs. 

 

From "Stronglight" in Flickr

That allowed the racers to continue to do all of their shifting with their right hands and would not have to switch their routine in the middle of a race.  More important, perhaps, this new arrangement allowed riders to make front shifts without interrupting their pedal strokes: a very important feature when beginning a sprint or a downhill.

"Suicide" front derailleur. From Dave Moulton's blog.

It just happened that Monsieur Souhart was Campagnolo's Paris distributor and thus had Signore Tullio's ear.  Apparently, Souhart as well as a number of racers convinced him of the bar-end shifter's superiority.  That may be the reason why the first Campagnolo Gran Sport gruppo included bar-end, but not downtube, shifters.

Interestingly, a few years later, Souhart created a front derailleur that more closely resembles modern mechanisms, in that the cage moved upward as it moved outward. (Older mechanisms, like the "suicide" derailleurs, moved straight across.)  He also made a "detented" (indexed) system of his bar-end lever to actuate the front derailleur.  Campagnolo would not adopt that new feature of his bar-end shifter, but it did incorporate his front-derailleur innovation into their lineup.

Bar-end shifters' popularity among road racers was short-lived, mainly because downtube shifters, with their shorter cables, were lighter and offered snappier, more precise shifting, especially with the kinds of derailleurs available in the 1950s.  But the fact that bar-ends allow cyclists to shift without removing their hands from the handlebars made them popular with cyclo-cross racers, who ride on rough terrain.  They also became the preferred shifters of some touring cyclists, especially after SunTour introduced its ratcheted "BarCon" and Shimano its spring-loaded levers during the 1970s.  In fact, some bikes designed for fully-loaded touring, such as Trek's original 720 (not to be confused with the later 720) came with BarCons as standard equipment, whether or not they were adorned  with SunTour derailleurs.

February Freedom

On the whole, it's been a mild winter, so far, in this part of the world.  Last Saturday was, thus far, the coldest day of the season:  The day dawned clear, at -10C (14F).  I rode nonetheless.  After that, the temperature rose a few degrees each day until it reached 15C (60F) yesterday afternoon.

That meant, of course, a ride to Point Lookout

the day after a ride to Connecticut.  The funny thing is that on both rides, I saw little traffic, whether from cyclists or motorized vehicles.  I think I encountered more strangers shouting "Nice day for a ride" than actual cyclists along yesterday's ride!

Between those two rides, and some other riding I did during the week, I managed to do 600 kilometers (385 miles) from last Monday until yesterday.  I don't think I've ridden that much in one week in February in years.  Heck, that's even a good week during peak riding season.

Maybe the groundhog's prediction was correct after all.  Or, perhaps, we'll get a March (or April?!) blizzard. Anyway, I hope to keep up my riding:  It and my writing (off this blog) are helping me to keep whatever sanity I may have.

He's Back, And He's Not Going Stealth

We don't know the names of the folks who painted the cave walls at Lascaux or told the stories that became the epic poem Gilgamesh.  For that matter, we don't know who invented the wheel.  

But we do have some idea of who made most wheeled vehicles--including bicycles--over the last 200 years or so. Even if the bike is made by a large company like Raleigh, checking serial numbers and dates can tell us, if not the person who brazed or painted the frame, then at least who was working in the factory at the time.  Thus, the search can be narrowed down to a few possible brazers, welders, painters or others responsible for making the bike.

The more expensive the bike (or car or whatever), the easier it is to know who worked on it.  Some custom bikes are branded with the builder's name (e.g., Bruce Gordon, Bob Jackson, Rene Herse), while other small builders like Mercian and Seven have a few people working for them, each of whom focuses on a specific task such as mitering the tubes or painting.  So, if you have such a bike, it's fairly easy to find out who was responsible for it.

A few small and custom builders' bikes, however, have gone "stealth".   Perhaps the most famous example was the machine Eddy Merckx rode for the hour record in Mexico City in 1972.  All right, it wasn't really "stealth":  Everyone knew it wasn't a Windsor.  The Mexican bike-builder's decals were slapped on the sunset-orange frame just before the Belgian Tour de France winner set off on his ride; the frame had actually been built (and some components modified) to Eddy's specifications by the revered Italian builder Ernesto Colnago.   Windsor used Merckx's successful record attempt to sell its bikes which, understandably, infuriated Signore Colnago, who never forgave Eddy.

At least Windsor made some pretty good bikes. (They bear no relation to the Chinese-made machines sold under the same name in the US.)  On the other hand, another "stealth" bike bore a brand that would never be associated with a bike shop, let alone Eddy Merckx, the Tour de France or an hour record.

Strip away the Murray decals, and this bike would look like a high-end racing bike from the 1980s:  Italian, perhaps.  Or American, probably from a custom frame builder like Ben Serotta.

There's a good reason for that: The "Murray" in the photo was indeed built by Serotta in his Saratoga Springs, NY workshop.  

So how did the bike end up bearing the name of a manufacturer of cheap bikes sold in big-box stores and pedaled off curbs by kids?  Well, Murray--which was as known for making lawnmowers as it was for kids' bikes--signed on to sponsor the US Olympic team that competed in the 1984 Los Angeles games.  To their credit, they sponsored the 7-11 Team, the first American cycling squad since the early 20th Century to challenge--and sometimes beat--the best of Europe and the rest of the world.  Some of its riders could boast, among other things, victories (or high placements) in the classics as well as individual stages of the Giro d'Italia, Tour de France and other multi-stage races.

The bike in the photo took Davis Phinney to a fifth-place finish in the 1984 Olympic road race. 

Now Ben Serotta, who started building frames in 1972, is re-entering his old profession.  His business grew; 40 years later, he partnered it with a company that, the following year, joined another company that would later go bankrupt.

Although I'm sure his new bikes won't look like the one he built for Davis Phinney, I am sure they will be nice.  He says he will build in steel as well as titanium and aluminum.  Any one of those materials--especially steel--will highlight his fine craftsmanship.  And they will bear his name.

When Today Was Bicycle Day

Today is Presidents’ Day in the US.  Previously, it was celebrated as Washington’s Birthday, which was declared a Federal holiday in 1885.

That was on the eve of America’s first Bicycle Boom.  So, as this holiday is today an occasion for sales on bedding, at that time new bike models were rolled out (pun intended).

Four years ago, I wrote a post about it.  

Try Not To Notice The Training Wheels

When I ride, I feel like I have wings

Flight simulator?

and I can fly.

Where We've Escaped Death--For The Past Two Years

As I have mentioned in earlier posts, Florida has had, for several years running, the highest--by far--bicycle fatality rate of any US state.  

A number of factors contribute to the high body count:  a car-centric culture, a lack of consciousness of cyclists among motorists, high rates of alcohol consumption and a lack of shoulders or sidewalks, let alone bike or pedestrian lanes, on most thoroughfares.  

One notable exception to the dark side of the Sunshine State is Flagler County.  It's the only county in Central Florida (roughly defined as anything within a two-hour drive of Orlando) in which a cyclist wasn't killed in 2018 or 2019.

I can attest that the county is indeed safer for bike-riding than other parts of the state (at least the parts in which I've ridden).  In fact, I enjoyed riding there and immediately saw the difference when I crossed into neighboring St.John's or Volusia counties, especially when I neared St. Augustine or Daytona Beach.

You see, the largest city in Flagler is Palm Coast, where my parents lived.  I've documented a few of my visits in this blog.  There are a number of paths in the city and county, and most of the major roads have, if not actual bike lanes, then wide sidewalks where cycling is permitted.  And, I must say, pedestrians, in my experience, were very courteous.

Plus, there just seemed to be more cyclists in Palm Coast and Flagler than in neighboring areas, or even in the areas around Jacksonville, Miami or Fort Lauderdale, where I've also ridden.  I don't know whether more people ride because the conditions are favorable, or those conditions exist because of the cyclists.  

My mother is gone and I don't know how much longer my father will stay in Palm Coast.  At least I have pleasant memories of riding there.  Little did I know that I was in an island in a storm of cycling mishaps!

Rose, Thou Art Sick

Here's something romantic to tell your spouse, boyfriend, girlfriend, life partner, significant other or whatever you call him/her/them:

Of course, you would say it only if that person is also a cyclist.  If he/she/they are/is not a cyclist, you might witness aviation history in whatever space you share!

One Valentine's Day many, many years ago, I was riding my bike by the Rutgers campus.  I was flat broke, as I often was (and would often be on many occasions later).  What would I give, or do with, my girlfriend?  I could have made something, I suppose, but I wouldn't have felt right, knowing that I slapped it together in even less time than I wrote at least one of my papers.  And, at that point, my cooking skills consisted mainly of boiling and frying.

While pondering all of the things I couldn't give, or do for, her, I pedaled by the botany lab.  A blur of red, deep red, streamed into the corner of my eye.  Rose, thou art sick.  I'd read William Blake's poem at least a few times, but why was I thinking of it then--with a riot of deep crimson in my line of vision.

The dumpster outside the botany lab overflowed with those flowers.  Roses, redder than any in the Queen's garden--or any upper Madison Avenue florist. Rose, thou art sick.  They probably are not well if they're in that dumpster, I realized.  But they were so, so red, like the bloom of one who grows more beautiful while drawing closer to death. (I'd recently read a Japanese story like that.)  

Giving no thought to what might be keeping those petals redder than Mississippi in any election during my lifetime, I yanked my handlebar and made a beeline for that corrugated steel cornucopia of floral bounty.  I propped my bike and scooped as many roses--their stems still attached!--as I could handle.  I found a piece of twine lying nearby and used it to tie whatever I couldn't carry to my handlebars, top tube and seat tube.

On my way back to my apartment, I stopped by an art studio and appropriated some ribbon, and large vase from a conference room.  Then I pedaled to the language houses, where my girlfriend stayed.

One of her housemates answered the door.  Slackjawed, she darted up the stairs and summoned, it seemed, all the other girls in that house--and my girlfriend.  They watched as I handed her more roses than any of them had seen in their lives.  Oh, and those roses were redder--even if they were sicker.

About the only thing that's the same in my life is that I still ride my bikes.  I have a few more than I had then, not to mention the memory of that day, when I might have made someone happier (and a few of her friends more envious) than I've made anyone since.

I still wonder what kept those roses so red--for almost two weeks after I found them!  Rose, thou art sick.  A few years ago, I looked her up, worried that those roses may have made her give birth to sick children.  As far as I can tell, she remained childless.  Because of the roses?  

They don't seem to have affected me.  I still ride, after all.  

A Motor City Gets A Bicycle Mayor

It's no surprise that cities like Amsterdam and Paris have "Bicycle Mayors."  But what if, say, Detroit were to select such a person?

Turns out, the equivalent of that has happened in England.  Adam Tranter, who runs a public relations and marketing agency, has just been appointed as the first Bicycle Mayor of Coventry, often referred to as Britain's "Motor City."

Adam Tratner

Interestingly, during the 1950s, Great Britain was the second-largest producer of automobiles (after the US) and the largest exporter of cars.  But the decline of Coventry, and the British automotive industry, mirrors that of its American counterpart and Detroit:  more innovative and higher-quality machines, competitively priced, began to enter both countries from France, Germany and Japan from the 1960s through the 1980's, at the same time the perceived (and sometimes actual) quality of domestically-produced vehicles plummeted.   The British decline was exacerbated by the introduction of low-priced cars from Eastern Europe and Asian countries not named Japan.

Ironically, both Coventry and Detroit were centers of their countries' bicycle industry:  In fact, many developments--including the "safety" bicycle, with two wheels of equal size driven by chain and sprocket gearing--come from the Midlands area around Coventry.

 The fact that both countries were incubators, if not cradles, of their nations' bicycle industry is one of the reasons why they became automotive centers:  Just as Henry Ford and other pioneers of the American automobile began as bicycle mechanics or designers, British bicycle designers transitioned into motorcycles and cars. 

A further irony is that as the automobile manufacturing disappeared, both cities actually became more auto-dependent:  According to one survey, 64 percent of all trips to work or school in Coventry were made by car, as opposed to 3 percent by bicycle.  One of Mr. Tratner's jobs, in his voluntary position, will be to get more feet away from gas pedals and onto bicycle pedals.  

Perhaps one day Coventry will return to its "roots," if you will.  Could Detroit go the same way.