The New York City Department of Transportation has been installing "hoop" bicycle racks all over the city. In fact, there are a few just around the corner from my apartment.
Still, there aren't enough. There never can be enough:
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| From Exclusive Pictures |
If I ever get a regular writing gig, it's unlikely to be with The Wall Street Journal or The Economist. I have, as far as I can tell, no business acumen and I passed the one and only economics class I ever took by promising the professor I wouldn't take another: He could see that I simply had no mind for the subject.
All right, the story about the econ class was an exaggeration--but only a slight one. One thing I'm pretty good at, though, if I do say so myself, is observing. So now I'm going to present an observation I've made that pertains to cycling--and might be of interest to the folks at WSJ and The Economist.
One of the terrible outcomes from the COVID-19 pandemic is that, in the resulting economic free-fall, many businesses have gone under. While some reporting, mainly of the local variety, has focused on the human costs of people losing their life's work (which, of course, is the real tragedy), the major media outlets have tended to focus on the types of businesses and industries that have been hardest-hit. They include restaurants which, in many places, were forced to close or operate at greatly reduced capacity for weeks or months. Also decimated have been clothing retailers and anything related to travel and tourism (think hotels, airlines and such). During my rides, I have also seen a number of dry cleaners that have closed their doors for good: People working at home tend not to wear suits, and there's not much reason to wear a fancy dress or gown when there aren't any weddings or graduations to attend.
But the observation I want to make is this: The economic devastation has not only claimed businesses in certain industries; it has also discriminated by the size of the business. While some large companies have gone to the dustbin of history, the economic downturn has claimed even more small mom-and-pop businesses.
One such enterprise is Larsen's Bicycles of Powell, Wyoming. For months, media outlets big and small (including this blog!) have been telling the world how the pandemic has been great--almost too good--for the bike business. While sales of bikes and all things related to them have sailed along at levels not seen in a long time, a basic law of economics has come into play: scarcity. So, neighborhood shops--and, in some cases, national and international web-based retailers--are running out of everything from handlebars to helmets, brake levers to bike locks--and complete bikes.
One result has been an increase in theft, from individual bikes on the street to warehouse break-ins. It's also meant that, because supply chains have been interrupted, those who are willing to acquire their goods honestly have long wait times.
Or they can't get anything at all. That is what happened to Larsen's. The only shop in Powell, a small city in cattle-ranching and mining country of northwestern Wyoming, completely ran out of inventory in May. After they ran out of bikes, Nick and Vicky Coy tried to keep things going with repair work. When they ran out of new parts, they harvested the good parts from used bikes until those ran out. Without a solid plan for delivery of new stock, the Coys made the hard decision to close the shop Nick bought from founder "Buzz" Larsen 29 years ago, after four years of working for him. He and his wife have operated the shop by themselves during that time. Their last day of business will be New Year's Eve, two weeks from yesterday.
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| Vicky and Nick Coy, in their soon-to-be closed shop. Photo by Mark Davis of the Powell Tribune. |
"It doesn't seem to be getting any better," Nick said. "Nobody can really say whether they're gonna have bikes this coming spring and summer." Most tellingly, he added, "The whole business model has changed for small shops."
That change, Vicky explained, came about because companies like Specialized like to fill the big stores first. "If you don't have big preseason orders and say you'll take X number of bikes, then you're on the bottom of their list." Also, she said, "They're selling a lot more parts and accessories online." For shops like theirs, "The lack of repair parts is huge."
She summed up the result: "It kind of forces out the little guy." In other words, shops like hers and Nick's are squeezed out.
The current pandemic has magnified the gaps between the rich and the poor, those who can work from home and those who must risk their lives for a paycheck, and between races and genders. It's also exposed another chasm: between conglomerates and small businesses--or, in this case, companies like Specialized, with their bicycle showrooms in urban and suburban areas, and rural shops like Larsen's.
I was on my best behavior during yesterday's ride.
It had nothing to do with my surroundings or the discipline it took for me to climb the same hill (short, but fairly steep) six times in a row. It wasn't even a matter of pretending not to notice when a woman, driving in the opposite direction, stared at me during my fourth climb.
It also wasn't related to the fact that atop that hill sits the mansion that once housed one of Astoria's most prominent citizens--or that, just a couple of blocks away, he made pianos used in concert halls all over the world. (If my behavior were related to that, I'd've worn a tux or gown.) Or that those pianos--Steinways--are still made on that same site, in a newer, larger facility.
My restraint also had nothing to do with my passing by the entrance to the bridge leading to Riker's Island--which, by the way, you can enter only by bus or in an authorized vehicle. (No bicycle is authorized.) I tried to ride to the Island once, on my absolute best behavior, and was turned back by someone who was not amused. But I digress.
Perhaps I behaved myself because I don't know when I'll be able to ride again. Oh, I know that day will come; I just don't know when. You see, I was getting that ride in before the snowstorm that began late yesterday afternoon.
I felt that storm coming: As I was circling around to my third or fourth hill climb, I felt the wind off Long Island Sound. My behavior would not have stilled that wind, or changed the trajectory of the storm that would leave us with a foot of snow.
So why was I so well-behaved? Perhaps it had something to do with this:
I mean, a whole truck of Superego--parked along the path of my ride! How could I not behave myself--or, at least, conform to prevailing social norms, even if nobody was there to see it?
Well, at least there was an answer two questions I never asked: What if Freud had gotten into the trucking business? And what trucking company would Donald Trump never, ever use? (As best as I can tell, the election-denier lives entirely, and has tried to govern, by his id.)
I remember when the old mail-order bicycle company Bikecology changed its name to Supergo. When I saw the first catalogue with the new name, I misread it as "Superego." It may have had something to do with just having taken the first of my two college psychology classes. But I digress, again.
Really, though, I behaved myself during yesterday's ride. Really!
I ride Continental tires on three of my six current bicycles. The German company's offerings have served me well: They aren't cheap, but I think they offer good value because of their ride qualities and durability.
Well, I've found another reason to ride Contis: They are now supporting Girls Riding Together.
Now, I'm for anyone or anything that gets and keeps more women and girls on bikes. But notice the capital letters: Girls Riding Together (GRiT) is an initiative of the National Interscholastic Cycling Association (NICA): an organization whose mission Continental will support as it provides material and financial support to GRiT.
In announcing this new partnership, Continental's Marketing Manager for Bicycle Tires said her company is "delighted to support NICA's mission of helping student-athletes discover the joys of cycling and mountain biking" and "making the sport accessible to all, no matter what their background or ability." In particular, she said, Continental will be "committed to the GRiT initiative" in its goal of "increasing female participation in the sport." One of NICA's stated goals is to boost female participation to 33 percent (from its current 20 percent) by 2023.
That day, some experienced transit delays, vehicular breakdowns or other emergencies. Others called in sick. Still others changed or cancelled other routines for all sorts of reasons.
That morning, they didn’t go to their offices, shops, kitchens or other workplaces. Some missed a day’s pay; others worried—only a for a while, as fate would have it—about their reputations, or even their jobs. But only for a while, a short while.
Erik Timbol may have had a smaller worry, but his “what if” resonates just as much as those of the people who didn’t go to work—or who, for what other reasons, weren’t in the World Trade Center at 8:46 a.m. on 11 September 2001.
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| Erin Michelle Ray |
He often joined Erin Michelle Ray—one of Nevada’s top triathletes—for a ride. He’d planned on doing that, along with four other friends, last Thursday. But he had to work a shift at Las Vegas Cyclery.
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| Thomas Chamberlin Trauger |
Ms. Ray went for that ride, along with fellow Las Vegas residents Gerard Suarez Nieva, Michael Todd Murray, Aksoy Ahmet and Thomas Chamberlin Trauger.
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| Michael Todd Murray |
They will not ride with Mr. Timbol—or anyone else, or by themselves—again. A truck struck and killed them.
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| Gerard Suarez Nieva |
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| Aksoy Ahmet |
The crash was ruled an accident. Erik Timbol, however, was saved by fate-or a schedule-making decision. In any event, I am sure he is grieving the loss of his training partners and friends: Erin Michelle Ray, Gerard Suarez Nieva, Michael Todd Murray, Akhsoy Ahmet and Thomas Chamberlin Trauger.
Two hours at a time...
That seems to be the pace of my latest recovery. I've been taking two-hour rides, mainly in and around my neighborhood. I probably could ride longer, but I am following the orthopedic doctor's advice and erring on the side of caution.
Even so, the rides are invigorating--and interesting:
It would have been one thing to find something like this house in one of this city's Chinatowns--in lower Manhattan, Flushing or Sunset Park. But this house is on Anthony Avenue, in a neighborhood that is almost entirely Hispanic and African American. About half a mile to the north is Fordham University and the Arthur Avenue district, often called "the Little Italy of the Bronx."
When you look at the adjoining house, you can see that its bones, so to speak, are like those of nearby houses, even if the skin, if you will, is that of an ashram.
When I looked at it for a couple of minutes, its location seemed a little less incongruent. After all, I had to pedal up a hill--not steep or long, but a hill nonetheless--to reach it. Also, since Zen practice is not (at least as I understand it) about social status or material wealth, it may make sense that it's in a neighborhood that hasn't been struck by gentrification.
Whatever the reasons why it is where it is, seeing it made the ride more interesting--and caused me to forget about the slowness of my recovery.
I think most of us agree that cycling is good--if not absolutely necessary--for our mental health.
Perhaps this is the reason why:
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| From Rateeshirt |
A gathering place "for all things bicycle." It sounds like what this blog has become, doesn't it?
But, in real life, such a thing is in the works. This week, the San Diego City Council approved plans for a $2.6 million regional center in Liberty Station.
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| Part of the new center's site. (From the San Diego Union-Tribune) |
The new center is slated to have areas for lectures, exhibits, safety seminars, group gatherings, bike repair and "limited" commercial activity.
That last item may be one reason why the plans were approved: Some of the project's funds could come from fees paid by businesses that operate in the facility. The sale of naming rights is also under consideration. Whatever else is done, the San Diego County Bicycle will hold a fundraising campaign for the center.
Part of the center will be in an abandoned US Navy building. The site is near San Diego Bay where, I am told, the sunsets are spectacular.
Hanukkah began last night.
Many moons ago, I taught in a yeshiva. It was, to say the least, an interesting experience. The rabbis and students were Orthodox, but not Hasidic. So the boys--all of the students were boys--wore black ties and trousers with white shirts. Yarmulkes topped their heads. I dressed in a similar way--yes, I wore a yarmulke--when I was in the school.
You can imagine how I felt in such an atmosphere. I was still living as male, but struggled with my gender identity. The only female in the school--if you don't count me--was the secretary. She was the head rabbi's mother, and the head rabbi was not a young man!
I knew, probably, as much about Judaism as any non-Jew who grew up in Brooklyn would know--which is to say, more than most non-Jews in most other places, if I say so myself. Still, I had a lot of questions, especially when the holidays came around.
For one thing, I wanted to know about gift-giving customs. Many Reform and secular Jews celebrate Christmas and are just as extravagant about gifting and decorating as the Catholics I grew up with. But the head rabbi confirmed what I'd thought: the more Orthodox--which is to say, those who were less or not at all "co-opted" by American/Christian/Capitalist-consumerist culture, in the eyes of someone like the rabbi--followed the custom of giving gelt.
In the old Jewish communities of Europe, it was actual coinage, though most people today give chocolates shaped like coins and wrapped in gold-colored foil. The rabbi said that it probably started with the prohibition against accepting money for teaching the Torah, which led to giving those teachers--who, as you can imagine, are highly esteemed in their communities--gifts which, according to Halakhic law (most interpretations of it, anyway), are not the same as payment for teaching.
(I think the same sort of logic motivated my, and other kids', parents in giving gifts to the nuns who taught in the Catholic school I attended: In those days, they received only a very small amount of money to cover "personal expenses.")
My old head rabbi (Hmm, that's kind of an odd phrase for me, isn't it?) also suggested that the custom of giving gelt to teachers may have had something to do with language and semantics. What I didn't know, until he told me, is that Hanukkah actually means "dedication." The word for education is very similar: hinnukh.
Anyway, I wanted to ask him this: Does all of this mean that an Orthodox kid probably wouldn't get a bicycle for Hanukkah, but a Reform or secular kid might, for Hanukkah--or Christmas?
I did, however, on another occasion, ask him this: On shabat or high holy days, is it OK to ride a bicycle?
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| From KilkennyCat Art |
"The answer to that, like so many other questions, isn't black-and-white," he said. (How many times have I said that to my students?) But, he said, a purpose of shabat and the holy days is devotion, and anything that is a "distraction" from that should be avoided.
Of course, much is left to how one interprets the Torah--and, perhaps, the Hebrew language itself. Almost everyone agrees that one shouldn't "work" during those days. Some say that it simply means you shouldn't be doing whatever you do during normal business (or school) hours. Others, though, believe that anything that has a secular purpose is "work." So they, for example, have non-Jewish neighbors turn light switches on and off. Also, some traditional Jewish foods--most notably cholent (Think of it as a kosher cassoulet.), came about because the very orthodox believe you can't do anything related to food preparation once shabat or the holidays begin.
(To make cholent, people assembled pans of beans, potatoes, onions, meat, spices and whatever else they liked and, on their way to shul, either put it in their own ovens or left it with local bakers who had to keep their ovens lit on low heat. Those pans would be retrieved at the end of shabat.)
So, this rabbi opined, whether or not you can ride your bicycle depends on your (or your sect's) interpretration of the Torah--and why you are riding. Obviously, commuting would be out of the question. So would running errands, for some. But he said that cycling "might be OK" if it's "contemplative."
Three years ago, a man pedaled into the Lincoln Tunnel, a violation of Port Authority regulations. So why did he wander into that 2.5 km-long tube under the Hudson? The route was suggested on a phone app.
Even if it weren't prohibited, I wouldn't cycle in the Tunnel--unless, perhaps, it were closed to traffic. On a scale from 1 to 4, with 4 being the most stressful, I think the fumes and claustrophobic space would make it a four-plus on a new interactive bike map.
The City of Milwaukee Department of Public Works has just developed such a map for the Cream City. It can be accessed from a computer or mobile device and rates each street from low (1) to high (4) stress, based on factors such as how many people drive on it and whether or not it has a bike lane. Riders can use the map to plot a route that includes as many low-stress streets as possible.
You can access the map here.
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| From the Milwaukee Sentinel-Journal |
The good news about the COVID-19 epidemic (Did I actually write that?) is that more people are riding bikes.
The bad news is that more bikes are being stolen. What's worse is that not all of the thieves are taking unattended bikes or breaking locks on parked machines. Perps know they're harder to identify when they're wearing masks, so some have become more brazen about how they part riders from their wheels.
Such was the case a month ago, just a few miles from my apartment. Sometimes, during rides to or from Fort Totten or Nassau County, I'll stop in Flushing--the Chinatown of Queens--for dumplings or other tasty treats. A young man who stopped in front of a restaurant near Main Street--may have had the same idea.
Whatever his intention, another young man started to talk to him. The distraction allowed another young man to approach him from behind--and slash him in the face.
He dropped his phone and bike. The guy who started the conversation scooped them up and took off. The slasher ran into a subway station a few doors away.
Everything was captured on video. I just hope someone can recognize the perps and call the NYPD hotline (1-800-577-8477 for English, 1-800-577-4782 for Spanish).
Some things really can make you feel old.
I know, it isn't all about me. At least, what I'm about to relate isn't. But I write this blog, ostensibly about bicycling, and end up talking about myself. Then again, what blogger doesn't talk about him/her/themself?
So here goes: Forty years ago, John Lennon was murdered by someone who claimed --like other actual and would-be murderers and assassins--to have been inspired by Holden Caulfield (who was, not a killer, but a teenage rebel who feels disgust for almost everything in the adult world) of Catcher in the Rye.
Four decades ago? Four decades ago! At the time, I had lived barely half that amount of time. On the other hand, John had lived as long (having turned 40 two months earlier) when he was shot.
In an earlier post, I relayed one of his fondest memories: of getting a bike as a kid. He rode it everywhere and didn't leave it outside at night, as other people in his neighborhood did. His wheels accompanied him to bed, he said.
Of course, what is better-known is someone who accompanied him to bed:
Yes, a bicycle accompanied him and Yoko during their first "Bed-In For Peace" in Amsterdam. I don't know whether they had a bike during their second Bed-In, in Montreal, but it wouldn't surprise me if they did.
Here they are in 1972, stopping for what has long been a quintessential New York experience, but one that is disappearing. Those iconic Sabrett's hot dog carts are being replaced by Halal food trucks and carts that serve kebabs and chicken or lamb with rice, as well trucks and carts offering other tacos, pizza and other "street foods."
(As best as I can tell, John is riding a Bottechia ten-speed and Yoko is on a Dunelt or Rudge three-speed. At least, I'm sure it's a three-speed but not a Raleigh.)
John, apparently, never gave up his love for cycling, even when he and the Beatles were touring and turning out an album or two every year.
Tell me: Does that look like '60's England, or what?
It certainly looks like John, expressing his kind of joy.
What motivates people to do charitable work?
My guess is that one common (if not the most common) impetus is the memory of a loved one, whether a blood relative, friend or anyone else who matters to the person doing the work.
Such is the case for Kay and Craig Collier. For the past 27 years, the Brownwood, Texas residents have been collecting bicycles and distributing them for Good Samaritan Ministries and other non-profit charities. The need is great in their area which, in spite (or some would say because of) Camp Bowie, has lower income and higher poverty rates than average for Texas or the United States.
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| Kay Collier (left) with Marie Smith of Good Samaritan Ministries (Photo by Derrick Stuckly) |
One of the needy could have been Kay's brother, had he not become her brother. Her parents adopted Sidney Collier Hanks through Catholic Charities when he was six years old. For his first Christmas with his new family, Kay's mother asked Sidney what he wanted from Santa. "He said it didn't matter, he never gets what he wants, but he really would like to have bike," Kay recalls.
He soon came to be known "Sid on the Bike" in the community. "He wore out a bike, and sometimes my mom would have to get him two a year," she remembers. He rode "everywhere," she says, continuing even after getting his driver's license at age 18.
So far, that sounds like a typical story. That is, until you consider a handicap Sid had to overcome: one leg was 12 inches shorter than the other. At the time he was adopted, he was living in a group home where the foster mother made booties but not shoes. "My mother found someone to get him shoes made that were built up and very heavy." Still, Kay says, "he rode that bike anyway."
Phlebitis developed in Sid's shorter leg. Finally, he needed hip surgery because the shorter leg was causing so much stretch to the normal one. He was on the verge of being relegated to a wheelchair when he passed away, at age 28.
At that time, Kay, now a receptionist for Good Samaritan Ministries, and Craig were expecting their first daughter, whom they named Sidney. She is now 27 years old: the same age as the couple's bicycle charity.
Are squirrels genetically programmed to play chicken with cyclists?
It sure seems as if they are. It seems that any time I pedal through a leafy area, one of those fuzzy creatures hops and scampers as close to my wheel as it can without getting tangled in my spokes. Then it scampers away.
That leads me to wonder: How would a squirrel ride a bicycle?
The image is available as a T-shirt. I think it's kinda cute.
I have never owned a carbon fiber bicycle--or even a component larger than a brake lever made from the material. I've ridden CF, and can appreciate its ride qualities. Still, I'm not ready to plunk down my hard-earned money for it.
Some folks, though, simply must have it. But they not only don't want to spring for it; they don't have the necessary funds (or credit lines).
Well, for such consumers, there's good news: Specialized--one of the most-recognized names in the carbon fiber bike arena--has just introduced a machine that will sell for $999 in the US (999 GBP in the UK, which, at yesterday's exchange rate, translates to $1342.91).
The news gets even better: The wheels, as well as the frame and fork, are made from carbon fiber. So are the handlebars and stem.
Now to the bad news: If you were dreaming of a spot in the Tour, Giro or Vuelta, you won't be allowed to ride it on this bike: It weighs only 2.1 kg (4.6 pounds). The Union Cyclisme International, the sport's international governing body, doesn't allow bikes lighter than 6.8 kg (14.991 pounds) in the races it sanctions.
But your kid might be able to ride it in a Tour, Giro or Vuelta for toddlers. That is the intended market for this machine. One reason why it's so light is that it doesn't have cranks, pedals, chain, derailleurs, shifters or brakes.
It's a balance bike. Yes, a carbon fiber balance bike, called the Hotwalk.
Here's my question: Will buying this bike turn your kid into a champion--or an uber-consumer?
I know I shouldn't make light of a bike recall--especially if the reason for it is a problem that could cause serious injury.
But--whatever this says about me--I had a little laugh when I heard that Santa Cruz Bicycles is recalling some of its aluminum frames.
Why? According to the company, some of their aluminum frames and rear triangles have a defect that can cause them to bend or buckle.
Now, I don't want anyone to get hurt because a frame or fork buckled under him or her. And I am glad Santa Cruz bicycles is trying to make things right for their customers.
Still, I thought it was kind of funny that frames shaped like the ones in the recall are being replaced because they might bend.
I mean, someone not familiar with the bikes wouldn't know they were bent, would they?
The bikes and frames in question were sold from June 2019 to October 2020.
Yesterday’s story told the tragic end of an award-winning journalist—and cycling enthusiast—on a Florida road.
The story I’m going to relate today didn’t end as badly—the cyclist survived. But it had this in common with Tim O’Brien’s mishap: It had a cause in something neither that cyclist, O’Brien (or, for that matter anyone else) could have foreseen. That cause, however stemmed at least in part from poor planning, design or policy.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, O’Brien was struck by a car that ricocheted after it was struck by a pickup truck making a left turn on Route A1A: a two-lane road (for most of its length) where drivers drive at highway speeds and make left turns onto side streets where, as often as not, there are no signals or signs. Also, on A1A, the sidewalks serve as bike lanes and, too often, shoulders or pull-over lanes for cars.
The cyclist I’m going to mention today was swept off his bike by a tide—while pedaling along a bike lane that skirted the edge of the water.
This near-tragedy struck on the path between Lake Michigan and Chicago’s Lakeshore Drive. Although Michigan, like the other Great Lakes, is filled with fresh water, it—like Superior, Huron, Erie and Ontario—is really a vast inland sea with its own tides.
Those tides are affected by the same things that whip up the oceans: the moon’s gravitational pull, geocentric forces—and the weather, the wind in particular.
I know these phenomena quite well: I often cycle along the Verrazano Narrows, Long Island Sound, Upper New York Bay (where the Hudson River ends) Jamaica Bay and the misnamed East and Harlem Rivers. All are inlets or bays of the Atlantic Ocean: something people living by them learned the hard way during Superstorm Sandy! I have been reminded of the waters’ provenance a few times when waves spilled onto the paths or streets I was riding.
Now, some might say that my and that Chicago cyclist’s experience were unfortunate accidents that were just part of life in the big city. There was, however, a flaw in the Chicago path that I’ve noticed on some waterside bike lanes I’ve ridden: It sits several feet lower than the adjacent roadway. Oh, and there’s no barrier between the lane and the water.
A bike lane sandwiched between a major roadway and a tidal waterway—built several feet lower than the roadway, with no barrier between the lane and tides? If I were just a little more paranoid, I’d think that it wasn’t just bad planning and design: I’d believe it was designed to do away with cyclists!
In earlier posts, I've mentioned that Florida, in spite of its climate and many communities with bike lanes, is terrible for bicycling in at least one way. The Sunshine State is beclouded with the distinction of being the deadliest state for cyclists. For about as long as I've been writing this blog, Florida has had the highest death rate for riders, and it's not even close.
More than a few reasons have been posited. One is the state's car-centric culture. Another is that because it's America's leading state for retirees (a.k.a. God's Waiting Room), there are lots of old drivers, some of whom shouldn't be driving anymore. I think that characterization is only somewhat fair: While riding in Florida, I've encountered any number of hot-rodding, or simply careless, young drivers. Again, to be fair, their state doesn't have very stringent requirements for a driver's license.
Whatever the causes, the dangers (and pleasures) encountered by cyclists do not discriminate: Accidents injure the young and the old, the rich and the poor.
And the famous as well as the anonymous.
The latest cycling fatality in Florida was a familiar face for many people. He covered a number of major events, including the September 11 terrorist attacks. For his contributions to CNN's coverage of that event, he won an Emmy. Another highlight of his career, "Escape from Justice," was one of the first exposes of Nazi war criminals living in the USA.
In addition to CNN, he covered the Supreme Court and other legal issues for 22 years at ABC. An attorney by training, he was able to lend depth, as well as explain proceedings, in terms comprehensible to folks like me.
Upon his retirement, he moved to northeastern Florida, near Jacksonville. Like many before him, he relished the chance to spend days following one of his passions: cycling.
My guess is that Tim O'Brien was a careful cyclist and, for a 77-year-old, his reflexes were still good. They weren't enough, however, to avoid the fate that befell him.
According to police, a pickup truck traveling northbound on Route A1A turned left to Mickler Road in Ponte Vedra Beach. The truck collided with a car traveling southbound on A1A.
The force of the crash sent the car ricocheting to the sidewalk--where O'Brien was pedaling.
Both drivers remained at the scene. Police have not said whether either would be charged.
Whatever their fate, it won't change the fact that someone they might've watched on their television screens is the latest cyclist casualty in Florida.
The mayor of my city and the governor of my state raise the possibility of new lockdowns, which would mean "non-essential" businesses would be closed. Government officials in other places are also speaking of such things.
At the same time, they are encouraging people to support small businesses. I wholeheartedly agree, whether that "small business" is a bike shop, book store or beauty salon.
One thing I fear, though, is that this might be the "last chance" for some establishments that barely survived the lockdowns of last spring. Whatever business they do might tide them over for the next couple of weeks, or however long they can operate before they're forced to close.
Another worry is that some customers who resorted to Amazon during the lockdowns won't return to their old shopping habits. They may have been lulled by the convenience of having PlayStations or whatever brought to their doors.
What some small business owners have done, of course, is to start making deliveries. Luca Ambrogio Santini is one of them.
He operates LibriSottoCasa, which he describes as "the smallest bookstore in the world." How small is it? Oh, about the size of one of those boxes that fits on a porteur-style front rack.
Santini once operated one of the best-known independent bookstores in Milan, Italy. That is, until rent and management costs rose too high. So, five years ago, he started to operate without a storefront--and with a delivery bicycle. Customers place orders on his Facebook page, on Whatsapp or via e-mail, and he delivers, mainly in the southern districts of his city.
Perhaps not surprisingly, the pandemic has been good for his business. While he concedes that Amazon and other forms of e-commerce are convenient, he says "the physical presence of the bookseller who can advise and communicate with the customer" is "an added value" that "is disappearing" but "we must not lose."
In addition to being that bookseller we all love, he has another aspiration: "I want to be faster than Amazon."
I am feeling somewhat encouraged: Over the weekend, I managed to take two rides. I don't know exactly how much I rode, but I guess that I pedaled about 70 kilometers on Saturday and that much, or perhaps a bit less, on Sunday.
Each trek took me through various parts of Brooklyn and Queens. One thing is that, although I had to navigate traffic in some of the shopping areas, I found some solitude, in expected and unexpected places.
Lockdowns have been imposed in other states and countries. There has been talk of one here, too: Schools reverted to remote instruction last week, and if infection rates rise, "non-essential" businesses could close. (Good thing I got my hair done on Monday, even if I'm not going on a date or to any weddings, graduations or other large gatherings!) If I hadn't known any better, I would have assumed the city had shut down when I saw this:
Thirteenth Avenue in Borough Park has long been a busy commercial strip. My father grew up just off it; as a kid, I can recall trips to stores and bakeries--and pizza runs!--when we visited his parents. In the decades since, the neighborhood has become one of the world's major Orthodox (Lubavitcher Hasidic) Jewish enclaves. That, of course, is the reason why everything was closed--and I could ride on Thirteenth Avenue as if it were some country lane.
Well, most stores were closed because of shabat. Gino's--yes, the destination of our pizza runs--managed to survive the changes in the neighborhood at least until a year or so ago. Any time I was anywhere the neighborhood, I'd stop by for at least a slice or two--they were still as good as my childhood memories!--though, it seems, they stopped making arancini, one of the world's great comfort foods, some time ago.
I know time marches on and all that, but I couldn't help but to feel what I saw from the Canarsie Pier on yesterday:
Well, I am healing, at least physically. I suppose I'll "recover" from losing Gino's, too, even if it was one of the last old-school Brooklyn pizza joints.
If you are, oh, about my age, you didn't wear a helmet as a kid. Perhaps you still aren't wearing one.
If you wear a helmet now, you might wonder what might have happened had you not worn one: Perhaps that wheelie or "flip" you did--or that tumble you took--might've ended differently.
But what if you had worn a helmet?
Which bicycle part could be mistaken for a weapon?
A long quill stem comes to my mind. Still, it seems like a bit of a stretch of the imagination. A crank arm, seat post or rear derailleur (if held the right way) also come to my mind.
I admit that many people have more vivid imaginations (and greater minds) than mine. Still, it seems a bit of a stretch, to me, to confuse any bicycle component with an implement of destruction. Perhaps someone from the Los Angeles Police Department--or the Los Angeles Times--could have been more specific.
According to their reports, a 31-year-old mentally ill man was "holding a bicycle part that resembled a handgun" when an officer fatally shot him in January.
Victor Valencia's family members, naturally, want answers. They claim that he "posed no threat" and wonder "what gave the reason" for the officer "to shoot down my cousin like he was nothing," in the words of Sara Cervantes.
Indeed. I'd like to know what Mr. Valencia was wielding that made him seem like such a threat?
If I were to buy a folding or collapsible bike, there are two I would consider: Brompton and Bike Friday.
BF is holding a special sale for today, Black Friday. They boast that they offer "2 colors of black."
I have a question: If one were to order a bike in either shade, would he/she/they have a black Bike Friday? Or a Bike Black Friday?
Just askin'.
