Standing Still

Late yesterday afternoon I rode along the North Shore of Queens and Nassau County.  The streets of Malba, Whitestone, Bayside, Little Neck and Great Neck were all but deserted.  So were the parks and other public spaces.

On the beach at Francis Lewis Park, I felt as if I were the only one who was moving.

And, judging from the lack of traffic on the Whitestone Bridge, I may have been the only one going anywhere.

Of course, it takes a lot to stop Arielle, my Mercian Audax, or any of my other bikes!

Exploiting Animals And Bicycles

I don't have a lot of money.  And my apartment, while clean, well-maintained and safe, is hardly what starry-eyed young people in the steppes imagine when they dream of living in New York.

Still, I know I'm privileged.  For one thing, I've been able to travel overseas in each of the past five years.  (I don't think I will this year because of the COVID-19 epidemic.)  I can do that mainly because I don't have to support anyone besides myself and Marlee, and I really don't have expensive hobbies. (For all of the bikes and bike-related equipment and schwag I have, I really haven't spent a lot on them, compared to some with a two-wheeled obsession.)  Also, besides working, there really isn't much I have to do.  So, I can spend my time riding, writing, reading or doing other things I like, simply because I want to do them.

Who, me?

Another reason I know I'm privileged is that Marlee doesn't have to do a damned thing to "earn her keep" or justify her existence.  In most of the world, the animals people keep serve some purpose or another.  In fact, some beasts work all day for the privelege of becoming dinner that night.  Marlee doesn't have to worry about anything like that.  She sleeps 15-17 hours a day, and I wouldn't be upset if she slept a few more.  Of course, I benefit because sometimes she dozes off in my lap, or by my side, and I drift off into dreamland, if only for a brief spell.

Now, I can understand keeping animals as beasts of burden.  I might have a more difficult time caring for and feeding an animal--and developing a bond with him or her (as I inevitably will:  that's how I am)--only to find him or her on my lunch or dinner plate.  Still, having been in rural southeast Asia, the Middle East and even parts of this country, I can understand how people can raise animals they know they're going to eat--or that will be eaten by someone else.  I understand that I, as a city dweller, have the option--all right, let's call it what it is: privilege--of not having to look at or touch an animal before eating it.

(That said, I don't eat nearly as much animal flesh as I once did.  I don't think I'll ever be entirely vegan, though, because I like dairy products--though I don't consume as much of those, either, as I once did. )

On the other hand, there really is no reason for what some people train or force their animals to do.  I have long believed that dolphins are the most intelligent animals of all--or, at least, they are more intelligent than we are--because while naval forces around the world have used them to detect mines and protect ships, there are some things those beautiful creatures simply would not do.

As much as I love cycling, and I have sometimes wished Marlee, Max, Charlie and my other kitties could accompany me on rides, there aren't many reasons to make an animal ride a bicycle.  It's usually done for yuks, or other kinds of exploitation.

I'm thinking now of the zoo in Thailand that made one of its chimps ride a bike in human clothes, with a mask over its face.  Now, if I had to wear those clothes, I might want to wear a mask, too.  But it gets worse:  the poor primate had to ride with disinfectant tanks strapped to its back--and spray that disinfectant around the zoo.

Oh, as if that weren't humiliating enough, before beginning his "shift", the chimp is chained to a wooden block while pulling on a diaper, shorts and the tacky shirt.

This video is disturbing. But I must say that it achieves something:  How often have you seen something in which both an animal and a bicycle are abused?

Do Clothes Make The Bike?

I've seen bicycles used, beautifully and imaginatively, in window displays and art installations.

I've also seen some rather extreme attempts to fit bicycles and people to each other.

I don't, however, know what to make of this:

Who Can Go Lower?

Stealing someone's bike is one of the lowest things one human being can do to another.

All right, I'll confess:  I'm not the first person to say as much.  Tom Cuthbertson said it in Anybody's Bike Book, warning that bike locks are only but so effective in deterring theft.

Now, one of the lowest things anybody has said, at least in recent history, was uttered by Donald Trump. (Are you surprised?) He claimed that there wasn't really a shortage of masks.  Rather, he claimed, they were going "out the back door."

Although I am not a health-care worker, I took umbrage to that remark because some of my current and former students work in hospitals and nursing homes and a neighbor/friend of mine is a nurse in one of this city's major hospitals.  It's hard not to wonder when--or whether--I'll see or hear from them again.

Trump accusing them of theft is a bit like Lance Armstrong accusing another rider of "juicing."  Or a Kardashian castigating anybody for a lack of restraint.

How much lower can someone go?  


It looks like somebody has plumbed such depths.  I am talking about the lowlife who took Dan Harvey's bike.  

At 2 am GMT, he had just finished his nine-hour shift at Queen's Medical Centre in Nottingham, England.  He'd spent the night as he's spent previous nights:  treating COVID-19 patients in the hospital's intensive care unit.  

Dan Harvey, medic

He went to an area of the hospital where a staff ID is required for entry.  He expected to unlock his bike and "clear his head" as he pedaled home.

Instead, he had to take a taxi:  His bike was gone. And his wasn't the first stolen from that limited-access area.

The ray of light in this darkness came after Harvey shared his loss on social media.  Soon, offers to replace his wheels came in.  

Dan Harvey, cyclist

He's riding to work again.  But it doesn't make stealing a bike from someone who rides it to a job where he puts his life on the line for others any less base of an act.

Empty Spaces, Everywhere

Over the weekend, I took two rides.   On Saturday, I pedaled up to Greenwich, Connecticut.  Yesterday, I took a spin out to Point Lookout, on the South Shore of Long Island.

What did those rides have in common, besides pleasure?  Well, both were seasonably cool (high temperatures around 14-15C or 58-60 F) and sunny.  Oh, and there was plenty of wind.  Fortunately for me, I pedaled into it much of the way to Connecticut and on my way down to Rockaway Beach, where the wind blew at my side on my way to Point Lookout. That meant, of course, I had the wind at my back most of the way from Connecticut, and for a long flat stretch from Rockaway Beach to Woodside.

It also meant that I saw very little motorized traffic.  I think that in 252 kilometers (157 miles) of riding, I probably saw fewer cars and trucks than I see in my 8 kilometer (5 mile) commute on weekday mornings.

That might be why the expanse of water, as happy as I was to see it, wasn't as much of a contrast with the road behind me as it usually is.

Happy--Whatever!

It's kind of odd to say "Happy" during a worldwide epidemic that's killing thousands of people and leading to lockdowns all over the world.

But I'll say it anyway:  Happy Easter.  Happy Passover.  Happy Ramadan.  Happy--I don't know--third or fourth or fifth week (depending on where you are) of Spring--or Fall.  Since I'm in the Northern Hemisphere, I'm going with Spring.

Happy...Whatever!

The Statute Of Limitations--Or A Limitation On Statutes?

Fernandina Beach, on Amelia Island,  is the northernmost city on Florida's Atlantic coast.

That's certainly a distinction of sorts.  But until recently, it was unique in another way:  Since 1562, it has been ruled by France, Spain, Great Britain, Spain (again), the Republic of Florida, the Green Cross of Florida,  Mexico, the Confederate States of America and the United States.  It is, therefore, the only municipality in this country to have had eight different national flags flown over it. 

Now it may have another distinction.

A Nassau County sheriff's deputy spotted Aaron Seth Thomas and Megan Lynn Mondanaro narrowly escaped being hit by a car while riding their bicycles--without lights.

But what got them arrested was their breathalyzer tests.  They'd been drinking at a nearby bar before they got on their saddles.  Moreover, seven cans of beer were found in Thomas' backpack.

They were placed in back of the deputy's car for transport to jail.  While waiting, they removed their clothes and engage in sex.

(Don't ask!)

The deputy pulled Thomas out of the car but he shoved the deputy to the ground and ran off naked.  He was later apprehended by an ice cream store.  In the meantime, Mondanaro was moved to a different car and allegedly kicked two officers along the way.

Thomas and Mondanaro are now in custody, facing various charges.  Their actions have now added to Fernandina Beach's uniqueness:  In addition to being the only municipality to have flown eight national flags, it is (probably) the only, or at least one of the few, places in this country where a couple is in custody for having too much fun.

(I don't judge!)

Around The World--Until COVID-19 Struck

I'd been thinking about two holidays this summer.  One would have been a trip to a faraway place, like the ones I've taken to Greece, Southeast Asia, Italy and France during the past few summers.  The other would have been a bike tour that would have taken me out of this city but would have kept me, probably in the United States, definitely in North America.

In fact, I was ready to book the "exotic" trip a few weeks ago.  But, for whatever reasons, I decided to "sleep on it."

The next day, I read that one of the places I'd thought about visiting was under lockdown, and a cruise boat was quarantined in the area.  And then the travel restrictions spread across regions, countries and even oceans.

Even if everything goes back to "normal," I don't think I'll be taking the "exotic" trip this year.  For one thing, I can't count on travel restrictions being lifted or flights being restored. Also, I have to admit, I might be a bit leery of having to spend hours in enclosed spaces.

Marcia van der Meer in the Los Angeles International Airport

The bike trip may still be possible.  At least, that's what I think--or hope.  But I'm not counting on taking that trek, either, especially after reading about Marcia van der Meer and Bas Baan.

More than a year ago, Ms. van der Meer embarked on a round-the-world bicycle tour from her native Netherlands.  She crossed the Atlantic in a cargo ship, rode the length of South America and hitchiked from island to island in the Caribbean with American sailors before she arrived in Miami.  There, she met Mr. Baan and set out across the United States. 

Somewhere in the middle of their cross-country ride, they first heard about COVID-19.  "We thought, 'Ah, it's some kind of disease over there in China, you know," van der Meer recalls.  

But, as they rode across the western US, one part of the world--and the US--locked down.  Still, they thought that once they got to Los Angeles, they'd continue their journey to Japan.  Then the Land of the Rising Sun closed its borders to nonessential travel from the US and other places, and van der Meer's travel visa was about to expire.

Baan and van der Meer flew back to the Netherlands. For both of them, cutting their trip short was more than a disappointment.  "This is the culmination of years-long dreams, savings, banking time off and putting aside money," Baan explained. "I think it's a dream deferred."

Marcia van der Meer and Bas Baan, on their way back to the Netherlands.

For van der Meer, it's not only a "dream deferred" or lost savings:  Aborting her trip could also mean cutting her income considerably.  "I write books, I do presentations in theatres and everything afterward when I come home," she says. "If I cannot finish my trip, I don't know what will happen to my income." 

Still, she says, "I will do it."  She plans to "chill for a couple of years and "I will do another attempt to go around the world by bicycle."  

Will It Take A Virus To Bring Us Our Due?

During any crisis, actual and self-styled pundits weigh in about how said crisis will change some aspect of our culture, society or economy.

In that sense, the COVID-19 pandemic has been no different.  Wherever I tune, click or listen, someone is talking about how shutdowns and lockdowns will forever change the ways we live, work, eat, shop--and, yes, even make love.

Of course, it will be a while before we know which prognosticators are correct.  I hope that at least one of their forecasts comes true.  Specifically, it's one that appears in Tree Hugger.

That title--and the fact that I'm talking about it--is a giveaway that it has something to do with bicycles.  The opening line of Lloyd Alter's article sums it up:  They are not toys, they are transportation, and they can be a big help in this crisis.

Alter, however, is not merely making a prediction or expressing a hope.  Rather, he describes the way the definition of an "essential business" has evolved during the crisis.  He mentions that when Governor Andrew Cuomo declared a shutdown of "non-essential" businesses in New York State, he included bicycle shops--but not auto-related enterprises--in that category.  London Breed made a similar pronouncement when she ordred a lockdown in San Francisco, where she is the Mayor.  After pressure from folks like me, she and Cuomo revised their definition of "essential" businesses to include bike shops.  Not only is cycling one of the few outdoor activities in which one can engage in a dense urban area while keeping a safe "social distance", some essential workers, like food deliverers, use them to perform their jobs while others, like hospital employees, are using them to get to their jobs as trains and buses become more crowded due to service cutbacks.

As Alter points out, this crisis might finally show that bicycles aren't just a viable alternative to other forms of transportation; they should be considered integral parts of transportation planning.  Even after the virus is "defeated," many people will be reluctant to return to commuting in trains, buses or other shared vehicles.

That said, as I mentioned the other day, some shops (including one of my favorites) have chosen to remain closed, or to see customers only by appointment.  I understand their decision, just as I am happy that some shops have remained open.

Where Has The Rider Gone?

Had you fallen asleep, say, a month ago and awakened today, you might check your calendar to be sure that it is indeed Wednesday, not Sunday or a holiday.   Your favorite stores, restaurants and public venues are closed, or open for only a few hours.  And there's practically no motorized traffic on the streets, save for men--almost all of them are men, and immigrants at that--delivering food on motorized or electric bikes.  

I also notice, surprisingly, fewer people on bicycles.  Since cycling is still allowed, as long as cyclists keep their "social distance" (2 meters or 6 feet), this is somewhat surprising.  Also, I would think that some people who still have to go to work might ride bikes, whether because the buses or trains they normally take are running less often or not at all, or because they wouldn't want to get on a bus or train--or share a car with anybody.

But the Citibike racks are close to full, and bikes that are normally parked overnight have remained on the streets for weeks.  I wonder whether their owners ride only to work or school, or are too scared to go out. (I've heard more than a few people say they planned to shut themselves in this week.)  Or--might they be sick, or worse?

Across the street from that Schwinn chained to the lightpole, I saw a sign that it is indeed early spring:

As the cliche goes, life springs eternal, even in the face of disease and death.

Walnut Avenue, Cherry Blossoms and Hyacinths

After doing the work I needed to do, I took a ride.  Since I wanted to head out of the city, even if for a little bit, I cycled north and followed, coincidentally or not, part of my normal commute.

Well, more or less.  I pedaled up Walnut Avenue, which parallels Willow Avenue, the street with the bike lane I normally ride up to 138th Street.  I chose Walnut because it goes all the way to 141st, where I can make the turn underneath the Bruckner Expressway and pick up Southern Boulevard.  

Both Avenues lace the heart of the Port Morris industrial district in the Bronx.  Normally, when I ride along Willow--even as early as 6 am--I see trucks and vans pulling in and out of the factories, warehouses and luncheonettes.  Walnut also teems with activity--on a normal day, that is.

No day during the past two weeks or so has been "normal."  Of course, that's nice for cyclists:   The scene I rolled through looked more an early hour of Sunday morning than just after noon on a weekday.  

I must say, though, that the few people I saw were friendly:  They waved and smiled.  More important, I detected a kind of recognition--like what I sense from people I see by the ocean in the middle of winter.  Just behind me, on Randall's Island, cherry blossoms were pulsing their pink flowers and purple, blue and white hyacinths colored plots fenced in the fields and perfumed the air.  

All of that color, and those scents, felt like beautiful acts of defiance in a world forced into silence.  My bike ride felt something like that, though I did it for my own pleasure--and health, mental as well as physical.

Vital But Still Closed

The other day, Hal Ruzal and I exchanged text messages and e-mails.  He is a co-founder and former chief mechanic of Bicycle Habitat.  He also turned me on to Mercian bikes.

Now he’s living in New Mexico.  He told me he’s riding every    day but “there’s nowhere to go at night.”  That’s not a surprise, given that the same situation pertains here in New York, which has more restaurants, bars, clubs and the like than just about anyplace else on Earth.

Anyway, I’d shared that Habitat is closed, even though bike shops are permitted to remain open.  He said Charlie, the owner, was making a “wise move.”  I agreed, though I am sad about it.  

Bike shops are vital now because cycling is one of the few ways one can go to work—or simply get out—while maintaining “social distance.”  On the other hand, some shops—such as Habitat’s Chelsea branch, are tight spaces in which it would be difficult, if not impossible, to accommodate more than one or two customers at a time, especially if they’re bringing bikes in for repairs or overhauls.

Also, another characteristic Habitat Chelsea shares with other shops—including the ones in which I worked—is that mechanic’s areas are extremely tight:  Mechanics, as often as not, work at arm’s length, or less, from each other.

In that sense, Habitat and other bike shops are like other vital businesses such as grocery stores:  Their customers can distance themselves from each other, but their workers can’t.

Swiss In Pink

What countries are known for high-quality products?

Japan, Germany, France, Italy, England and the Scandinavian lands usually come to mind.  So, sometimes, does the United States.

Also:  Switzerland.  It doesn't produce the range of items that come out of the other nations I've mentioned.  But one rarely, if ever, hears complaints about Swiss products--including bicycles and bicycle parts.

Now tell me, what countries come to mind when I say "Switzerland"?  

Chances are, pink isn't one of them--unless, perhaps, you're talking about some Alpine wildflowers.  Certainly, it's hard to think of a Swiss-made piece of precision machining finished in pink.

So imagine my surprise when I saw this crankset from Edco, possibly the most renowned of Swiss bike component makers:

At first, I thought it was a joke, that someone photoshopped it.  Turns out, such a thing was made--with a bottom bracket to match.

If Michael Sweatman, the creator of the Disrealigears website, were to include his scope beyond derailleurs, he surely would include this in his "A Riot of Colour" section--with the Ofmega derailleur in rosa!

A Ride Through Change

Whenever I look, wherever I tune in, someone is writing or talking about how the COVID-19 epidemic is changing, or will or could change, some aspect of the world.  

As an example, many people who still have jobs are working online.  It's hard not to imagine that some of those jobs will permanently shift online, or become hybrids, if you will.  On the other hand, many people who have lost their jobs have to wonder whether their jobs--or their employers--will return.


One benefit of this crisis, if you will, is that some people are starting to see the real inequities in the health care system. I am talking, of course, about the people who lost their insurance or never had it in the first place. I also mean that the epidemic is highlighting how people are treated differently by the health care insurers and providers based on their gender, race or other factors.  

(Also, actual and would-be authoritarians are using the crisis for their own ends.  Donald Trump is trying to do this; he's had little success--thankfully--because of the limited powers of the US presidency and his own ineptitude.  But other leaders have found ways to use the crisis to disenfranchise or oppress groups of people, as Viktor Orban of Hungary did the other day when he used the epidemic as a pretext for ending legal recognition of transgender people.)

The virus is indeed changing the world.  I find myself thinking about that as I ride, and see change all around me.

As I rode through East Harlem, I see the embers of a culture that once burned bright but has flickered away:

The area of East Harlem east of Third Avenue once held one of this city's--and nation's--largest Italian-American communities.  I must say it's odd, to say the least, to see an engraved sign for an Italian commercial bank over a 7-11.  Then again, it's still odd for me to see a 7-11 in a dense urban neighborhood.

I saw another sign of change a bit earlier, after I crossed the High Bridge from the Bronx into Manhattan and followed a path to a bluff.

That building in the distance, on the right--or what it housed--inspired one of the most famous films of the past 40 years.  It also helped to saddle the Bronx with a reputation its leaders are trying to shed.

Inside those walls was the Four-Four:  the 44th Precinct of the New York Police Department.  Its nickname became the title of the movie I've mentioned:  Fort Apache.  

While it's hardly an elite part of town, the neighborhood of the Four-Four isn't exactly the one in Fort Apache, The South Bronx.  Likewise, East Harlem isn't Little Italy, Uptown, and won't be what it is today for very long--whether or not COVID-19 has anything to do with it.

What will I see on a future ride?

Riding Solo Through A Dream

It’s windy and a bit chilly for this time of year.  Still, it’s odd to have Fort Totten Park almost entirely to myself.

Don’t get me wrong:  It was nice to contend with almost no traffic, even on the streets around LaGuardia Airport, on my way here.  But it’s hard not to wonder, if only for a moment, whether I am cycling through a necropolis.

I don’t often remember my dreams.  The few that I recall for longer than the morning-after might be closer to nightmares.  Like this one:  I was walking along a street like the one in the working-class Brooklyn neighborhood of my childhood.  One difference:  My neighborhood was flat, but on the street in my dream, a row of houses, all splintered shingles and bubbled bricks, skirted the edge of a bluff.  There seemed to be nothing beyond it but flickerings of dusk.

Inside those houses, people—shadows, really—drifted by the windows—all of them opened, a little.  I knew, somehow, that soon, none of those people would be in those houses.  But I could not tell them.  I could not tell anybody.

I had that dream many years ago—in effect, in another life. This is not the first time I’ve recalled it, though it makes sense that it would come back to me now—even if I can’t remember what I ate yesterday!

The News Isn't A Joke, But....

This season, no one has been disqualified from a bike race because of a drug violation.

All right, that's not quite an April Fool's joke.  After all, races have been cancelled or postponed because of the COVID-19 epidemic.

We all hope it ends soon. But now the CDC is worried because, as the weather warms up, deer ticks will come out.  Some people will get Corona with Lyme!

Taking To--Or Over--The Street

Every time an elected official takes to the airwaves, I fear the worst, even if I know what they're about to say might be for the best.  I know the virus has to be stopped, but I worry that we might not be allowed out of our apartments, ever again.  

(Then again, if they confine us, they might have to enact a permanent rent freeze--or declare that housing is a human right and give it to us for free.)

So far, we still can go outside, as long as we keep our distance from each other.  Now the city is doing something that, at first glance, seems counterintuitive:  It's closing off some streets to traffic.  It makes sense when you realize that pedestrians, cyclists and all other kinds of non-motorized travelers have free reign over the street.  The idea, apparently, is to get people outside but still offer them space.

I like it.  If anything, I wouldn't mind if this street closure were extended:

It's a stretch of 34th Avenue in Jackson Heights, about 5 kilometers from where I live. 

It's also a kilometer, if that, from LaGuardia Airport.  While I enjoyed the nearly-empty street, it was a bit odd to ride  through that part of town without seeing a plane overhead. 

You Know The Drill

So why am I writing a post about drillium when the world is going to hell in a handbasket?

Well, I could get cute (as if I could, at my age) and say that COVID-19 is poking holes--or exposing them--in the structures of our societies.  Or some such thing.

But, truthfully, I'm writing this post because I can't say anything you haven't heard about the corona virus epidemic--and because somebody sent me this picture:

Apparently, someone in Germany is selling that stem on eBay.  Don't worry:  I'm not going to buy it.  It caught my notice because a stem is one component I would never think of drilling.  I've seen fluted, milled and pantographed goosenecks.  But I can't remember the last time I saw a drilled-out stem.

Mind you, I'm not anti-drillium.  In fact, I've seen some lovely pieces, including this Stronglight crankset:

But sometimes folks get silly with their drills (Hmm..."silly with their drills"...such an odd phrase).  You really have to wonder what purpose saving a couple of grams actually serves.

Then again, how many people actually believed that it was about function or performance? 

We Want To Be More Than One Part

We ride to keep ourselves from becoming this:

Vital, But Closed

Are bicycle shops "essential" businesses?

I imagine that you, or anyone else reading this blog, would answer "Of course!"  And I would agree with you.

Apparently, New York City officials as well as their peers in San Francisco and some other cities have listened to us:  They have included bike shops as "vital" because, as we argued, some of us normally use our bikes for transportation, while others are using them because of their fears about taking trains and buses, as well as cutbacks in service.

Even some non-cyclists agree that bike shops should be allowed to stay open during the COVID-19 ("coronavius") outbreak.  After all, gas stations and auto repair shops are still operating because some people are driving--and to keep ambulances and other emergency vehicles running.

Notions about what is "essential" aren't always so clear-cut. A candy factory is still operating because anything having to do with food is considered "essential."  On the other hand,  hairdressing and nail salons aren't.  I stupidly put off a styling, so I'm facing weeks, possibly months, of "bad hair days."  Of course, that's a good reason to keep on cycling-Still, I understand why hairdressers', barbers' and nail finishers' shops are closed:  I don't know of anyone with arms long enough to cut or color the hair or nails of someone sitting six feet (two meters) away.  I also understand why other businesses aren't operating:  there isn't enough business or their workers can't, or won't come in.

That last category includes a longtime favorite of mine, Bicycle Habitat. Even after a surge of repairs, tuneups and new bike sales, it's closing for a week.  Charlie, the owner, says it's a matter of protecting himself (He's in the high-risk age group), family and customers as well as doing right by the community in general.  I also imagine that it's difficult to enforce "social distancing" in the confines of a bike shop.  In his Chelsea shop, it probably means allowing no more than two customers in at a time. 

Ironically, bicycling--at least solo--is one of the best ways to get outdoor exercise while still keeping a safe distance from others in an urban environment.

RIding Solo--In More Ways Than One

When I wrote my previous post, I was worried--about a lockdown, and other things. I'd heard that in Puerto Rico, people aren't allowed to leave their homes for just about any reason.  Even taking a walk, cycling or skating alone are out of the question.  Italy has enacted similar restrictions.  I wondered whether I wouldn't be able to ride for weeks, even months, just as the season is beginning.

So, the other day, I made it a point to take a long ride--to Connecticut. On Sundays, Greenwich Avenue in Greenwich teems with strollers and shoppers, and the street is lined with parked cars.  But, from the Greenwich Common, I saw this:

and this:

Arielle, my trusty Mercian Audax, isn't accustomed to such isolation.  She could have been forgiven for wondering whether I took her on a trail instead of a street.

Speaking of streets, here was the view down University Avenue in the Bronx at 2 o'clock this afternoon:

Mind you, on the right, that's an entrance to the Cross-Bronx Expressway--the gateway to upper Manhattan and the George Washington Bridge.

Of course, I didn't mind having to contend with so little traffic, although it seemed almost surreal.  Still, I''d be happy if some of the cars and trucks didn't return after the epidemic--as long as their drivers survive.  I don't extend any bad wishes to people.

While we're on the subject of people:  There is a calm, if not a quiet, I haven't seen since the days just after 9/11.  Sometimes people eye each other warily, even suspiciously--Is that person sick?--but complete strangers are telling each other, and me, to be safe.  

And I want you, dear readers, to be well and safe--and to ride, as often and much as you can!