Riding The Penny Bridge To The Market

"Penny Bridge."  It sounds like a song from Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club doesn't it?

But its location is less quaint, if oddly bucolic.  Actually, I should say "was":  That bridge, so named because it cost a penny to cross (It was privately built and operated), stood at a spot I reached on my afternoon ride.

I'd ridden into the area-- possibly the last part of Williamsburg not claimed by hipsters, trust fund kids or Hasidim--before.  I had not, however, stopped at that particular spot, on Newtown Creek, until yesterday.

It's only a few hundred meters upstream from the new Kosciuszko Bridge, which has a nice pedestrian and bike lane.  But that spot, on the edge of an industrial area, is out of reach of the trucks, cars and buses and, it seems, rarely visited by anyone.  So, in spite of the hustle and bustle, the soot and grime all around it, it's rather peaceful.  

The Penny Bridge, built over 200 years ago, was the first crossing over Newtown Creek and helped to spur industries that continues to this day.  According to a marker at the site, the Creek, being a navigable waterway that empties into the East River (which is really a bay of the Atlantic Ocean), once carried more nautical traffic and freight than the Mississippi River!

I meandered along side streets, from one Brooklyn neighborhood to another, and after about 20 kilometers of pedaling, I found myself in another interesting spot about 5 kilometers from Penny Bridge:

Before today, I think I'd read or heard about the Moore Street Retail Market.  Opened in 1941, it's one of the later Works Progress Administration structures built in New York City.  Architecturally, it's hardly unique but certainly identifiable as a WPA structure.  One reason it's interesting and important is that it's one of a series of Retail Market Places built by the WPA. (Others include the Arthur Avenue Market in the Bronx, Essex Street in Manhattan and 39th Street in Brooklyn.)  While other WPA projects include everything from schools and courthouses to roadways and waterworks, the marketplaces may have been unique in their conception and purpose.  

Fiorello LaGuardia's tenure as Mayor of New York City almost exactly coincided with the Presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt, who signed the WPA into being.  Though they were of opposing parties, they were allies on many issues. (Funny how crises like the Great Depression had a way of making that happen!)  They both wanted to put people back to work, and LaGuardia was trying to clean up the city, literally.  He was able to get the WPA to build those market places, which contain stalls of everything from fresh produce and homemade specialties from the ethnic groups living in the neighborhood to housewares and children's clothing, were meant to replace horse-drawn vending carts, which he believed to be un-hygenic and unsightly.

I'd wanted to go inside the marketplace, but the "no bikes" policy was being enforced.  I propped Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, against a pole.

 

"Don't leave that bike here!"  Of course I wouldn't; even if I'd brought a lock with me, I wasn't about to leave Tosca, or any of my Mercians, on the street.  But I think the wiry Hispanic man knew that. "That's one nice bike you've got."  I thanked him. "Do you want to see mine?"  Of course I did, and he pulled out his i-phone to show me images of a Throne track bike and a Trek road bike with a Creamsicle finish (which I actually liked) and, I think, Shimano 600 components.  I mention that last detail because I couldn't tell which model it was, but my guess it was one of the better ones in the Trek lineup.

Another man, a friend of his, stopped to greet him and look at my bike.  He, too, pulled out his phone to show me his Bianchi road bike--carbon fiber, but still in that trademark Celeste green.

So, while I didn't get to shop in the marketplace, I did pick up a few moments of cameraderie with a couple of cyclists.  Perhaps I'll bump into them again.

Bike And Food Drive In Washington State

During the pandemic, increasing numbers of people have needed...well, everything.  Folks who have lost jobs or been otherwise affected are looking food, clothing, anything that can connect to the Internet--and, in some cases housing.

And bicycles. 

Between folks who have discovered or re-discovered cycling for fun, or are using it as an alternative to public transportation, it's hard to find a bicycle--new, used or otherwise.

 

Apparently, the folks at Keller Williams Realty of Kent, Washington understand as much.  Tomorrow, they will close their offices, as they do every year, for a day of community service.  This year's event will be a contactless food drive to benefit the Kent Food Bank and other local food banks through Northwest Harvest.  

For the drive, Kelller Williams is accepting non-perishable food items with current shelf life*.  They are also taking in used bicycles and usable bicycle parts that Bicyce Rescue for Youth will refurbish for low-income households with children.

I think it's good that Keller Williams recognizes that certain needs go hand-in-hand:  Families that need food also can use bikes, whether for the kids or adults, for the trip to school or work--or to look for work.

*--Pasta is a commonly-donated item.  It's a good choice, as it has a long shelf life, and most people like it.  But, as my mother, who helped run the food bank at her church, taught me, it's a good idea to give a jar or can of sauce with each package of pasta you give.

Where Are You Going? Does The Bike Lane Go There?

In one of my early posts, I recounted a distracted driver who made a dangerous turn in front of me.  She rolled down her window and castigated me for not riding in a bike lane.

I explained, as politely as I could, that the lane followed another street and wouldn't take me to where I was going.  She insisted that I should ride that lane anyway, not "her" street, where I was riding.  I then asked her whether, if she had to be someplace, she'd drive down a street that didn't take her there.

The memory of that incident has stuck with me because that woman echoed what seems to be a notion that (mis)guides planners, designers and builders of bicycle infrastructure.  They seem to think that cycling is only a recreational activity, not to be taken seriously.  So bike lanes are designed for, at best, aimless meandering (which I sometimes do) rather than as conduits of transportation. The lane that woman believed I "should" have taken is fine for riding from the neighborhood near LaGuardia Airport to Astoria Park, and useful for commuting if you work at the power generating plant or one of the metal fabrication shops (or the Halal slaughterhouse!) along the way.  

That driver didn't "get it;" perhaps she still doesn't.  But Alex Kent of Amherst, Massachusetts does. In a letter to the Daily Hampshire Gazzette, Kent makes the point that "bicycles are essential."  

The letter is a response to another letter writer who "claims not to understand why bike lanes are needed in Northampton when there is a rail trail nearby."  That person, Kent shows, does not understand that a bicycle is not simply a piece of exercise or recreational equipment; it is "an essential form of transportation."  The bicycle is "a way of getting from one place to another" and, as Kent points out, that place "may well be a business on Main Street and not on the rail trail."  Moreover, Kent explains, many cyclists--especially in places like Northampton and Amherst as well as cities like Boston and New York--don't even own cars:  The bicycle is their main form of transportation.

Alex Kent could have been me on that day when a driver cut me off and tried to tell me it was my fault because I wasn't riding in a bike lane that, at that moment, was of no use to me.  Unfortunately, I think there will be many more encounters like the one I had with that woman, letters like Kent's and "bike lanes to nowhere" before we have bike lanes or other infrastructure conceived as though the bicycle is a viable form of transportation.

R.I.P. Helmut Jahn

He once remarked that one of his creations made his reputation throughout the world but killed it in Chicago.

Bicycling gave him a long, healthy life, but two cars killed him about 100 kilometers west of the Windy City.

The creation in question is the Thomposon Building, nee the State of Illinois Center, designed by architecht Helmut Jahn.

That building, and 55 West Monroe (originally known as the Xerox Center), the Chicago Board of Trade and the United Airlines Terminal at O'Hare International Airport, are among the most iconic structures in Chicago's distinctive profile. Jahn created the Art Deco Revival addition to the Board of Trade, and conceived and designed the others.

His quip about how he's regarded is a result of the Thompson Building's history.  Like too many high-rise structures, like the Empire State Building and the World Trade Center (Twin Towers) in my hometown, it has been a "white elephant" that bled barrels of cash.  (ESB, finished just as the world was about to plunge into the worst economic depression of the past century, didn't break even until 25 years after it opened; the Twin Towers were in the red from the day they opened until the day they fell.)  Last week, the State of Illinois began accepting bids for the Thompson's sale.

Of course, the edifice's financial woes are not Jahn's fault.  I hope the same can be said for the crash that ended his life.  According to a police report and witnesses, he didn't stop at a stop sign and proceded through an intersection in St. Charles.  There, a Chevrolet Trailblazer SUV traveling southeast knocked him into the northwest lane, where a Hyundai Sonata going in the opposite driection from the Trailblazer struck him.

Now, not having seen a video of the incident, or the incident itself, it's hard to know whom or what, if anyone or anything, to blame.  Did Jahn not see the Stop sign?  Did he not see the vehicles until it was too late?  Perhaps he misjudged their speed and figured he had enough time to cross?  Or were the drivers of either or both of the vehicles speeding or driving distractedly?

Whatever the answers to these questions, losing anyone in what must have been a gruesome collision is bad enough.  And, just as the world renowned Helmut Jahn as an architecht, it--we--will mourn his loss.

For Moms And Kids Who Ride

During the past year, I've seen more people on bikes than I've ever seen before.  Not only is the number of bikes a departure from times past:  People I never expected to see on bikes are riding, and riding in ways I rarely saw before the pandemic.

Those new riders include many women riding with children in carriers, towed in trailers or pedaling smaller bikes behind them.  This post is dedicated to those women and children who are bonding over bikes.

From Have Fun Biking

Happy Mothers' Day!

From Scoperta Creations

Would You Live On A Street That's A Singletrack?

 Some neighborhoods' and towns' street names have themes.  For example, when I pedal to Point Lookout, after traversing the Atlantic Beach Bridge, I cross a series of streets named for New York State counties.  Other communities have streets named after flowers or trees--or the children of the developers.  Then there are the "gem" streets of "The Hole."

Well, in Colorado there's a town called Fruita.  You might expect the streets to be named after strawberries or blueberries or cherries or other delectables.  But, being near Grand Junction, it's adjacent to some of the most renowned mountain biking in the world.  So, the builders of a new development paid homage--by building their new homes on Singletrack Street, Pivot Street and Yeti Street.  

Photo by Mattias Fredericksson

Executives of Yeti and Pivot bicycles deny that they had anything to do with naming the streets, but are nonetheless delighted.  It's "better than a star on Hollywood Boulevard," said Chris Conroy, the president of Yeti, which is based in nearby Golden.  Chris Cocalis, the CEO of Pivot, called the naming "a complete and awesome surprise."  

The town sounds like a nice place to go if you get tired of city life.  But I have to ask:  If the developers refused to sell their houses to road bikers, would that be a violation of Federal fair housing regulations?

What It Is, Or What Is It?

Joe Biden may not have the oratorical flair of Obama or JFK.  On the other hand, he also doesn't have his predecessor's predilection for ignorance, mendacity and just plain meanness.  And he never could have, even if he wanted to, come up with this:  "It depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is."

That last statement came from Bill Clinton when asked about his claim, "There is no improper relationship" with Monica Lewinsky.  Only a lawyer--which Clinton was--could ever come up with something like that.

With all due respect , I have to give him credit for understanding, even better than most other lawyers, just how much can hinge on the definition of a word.  A law can be interpreted in an entirely different way from how its framers intended because of the way even a single word, let alone phrase or passage, is understood.

(That, by the way, is why I think it's folly to try to live by literal readings of any text, whether it's a holy book, an epic poem, a country's founding document  or a novel.)

So I appreciate just how much effort it takes to write a law or policy that will have its intended effect.  When it comes to laws related to cycling, a question that needs to be answered is this:  What, exactly, is a bicycle?

Photo by Josie Norris, San Antonio Express-News

Claudia Ordaz Perez, a Democrat who represents El Paso in the Texas State Legislature has tried to come up with an answer.  She drafted HB3665, an attempt to clean up the Texas Transportation Code, in which a bicycle is seen as any two-wheeled contraption that can be ridden but isn't a moped. In her re-definition, a bicycle is any human-powered vehicle with two or more wheels, one of which is at least 14 inches in diameter. It also includes a clause that specifically includes mopeds.

The good news about that revision is that by saying "two or more" instead of just "two" wheels, adult tricycles are included.  And "human-powered" includes the hand-cranked bikes some disabled people ride.  

That definition, however, can also include bicycles that have gas or electric motors that assist with pedaling--or that run the bike after the rider pedals to start it! While I have nothing against such bikes, I think they should not be in the same bike lane--especially if it's as narrow as the one on the Ed Koch/Queensborough Bridge--as bikes propelled only by the rider's muscle power.

In yesterday's post, and others, I said that bike lanes and other infrastructure are useless and even dangerous--and laws related to cycling can cause more harm to everyone--if they're conceived and executed by people who don't understand cycling.  I also think that those who write the laws or design the bike lanes need to know what a bike is.

Must More Riding Mean More Fatalities?

In a coincidence that, perhaps, isn't such a coincidence, I chanced upon an item about an increase in the number of cyclists killed on Texas roads at the same time a local radio news program mentioned that pedestrian fatalities here in New York City have increased during the past year.

I have also seen and heard reports of increases in the number of cyclists killed and injured on New York City streets.  So, hearing about pedestrian fatalities here and cyclists killed in the Lone Star State did not surprise me because cyclist and pedestrian casualties tend to rise or fall in tandem.

The reports point to a dramatic increase in the number of cyclists as a reason for more crashes and fatalities.  The same isn't said for pedestrians, though I have seen more people walking around as pandemic-induced restrictions are eased or lifted.  But I think that there is a related, and more relevant, reason for the increase in deaths and injuries among cyclists and pedestrians.

During the first few months of the pandemic, there was little traffic on the roads.  I can recall riding to Connecticut and back last spring and being able to count, on both hands, the number of motorized vehicles I saw along the way, not counting the ones that crossed the RFK Memorial Bridge.  Until last spring, I never could have imagined such an occurence on a 140 kilometer road ride that takes me through the Bronx and Westchester County before crossing the state line.

As spring turned into summer, traffic was still light, but I noticed faster and more aggressive driving, including some drag racing and other flouting of traffic laws.  Those things were annoying, but I didn't feel I was in danger because the still-light traffic afforded a wide berth between me and the drivers.

During the past few months, though, I've seen more traffic.  Some people, I guess, are returning to their workplaces and old routines, while others started driving and bought cars (for the first time, in some instances) because they didn't want to use mass transit.

But the folks who got used to driving fast and aggressively, or even carelessly, aren't adjusting to the new reality.  They still want to drive as if they have the streets to themselves.  And, in my own unscientific observation, it seems that police aren't enforcing traffic laws as much as they were before the pandemic--if, indeed, they were enforcing them against any but the lowest-hanging fruit (i.e., cyclists and pedestrians).

Having done a fair amount of cycling in other cities, states and countries, I can make this observation:  Building bike lanes and lecturing cyclists about safety--which most of us practice to the best degree we can--does little to prevent tragic encounters between motorists and cyclists and pedestrians.  

What will  make life better for everyone involved are sensible laws and policies (like the Idaho Stop) crafted by people who understand what it's like to ride a city's streets--and a culture rather than a mere lifestyle of cycling.  The culture of which I speak is one in which cycling is seen as a viable mode of transportation rather than just a form of recreation for privileged young people. Such a culture exists in some European countries; that is why there is more respect between drivers and cyclists and pedestrians.

Otherwise, cities and other jurisdictions can continue to build poorly-designed and constructed bike lanes that lead from nowhere to nowhere, and cyclists--or pedestrians or motorists--won't be any safer.

Cinco De Biko

This should have been on a Grateful Dead album cover.

Perhaps it would have been, had Jose Pulido drawn it about 40 years earlier.  It was part of a post about the "Cinco de Biko" post on Roof Pig!, a seemingly-dormant blog.

The image seems more appropriate to Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), but it somehow seems fitting for a ride on this day, Cinco de Mayo.  

Enjoy your "Cinco de Biko," whatever it is!

Integration Is Great When It Fits

 Hal Ruzal, the recently-retired mechanic and partner of Bicycle Habitat, and I were talking one day about rides, bikes, music and work.  I've always admired Mercians, but I finally ordered my first after taking a spin on one of his.  His other bikes, with one exception (an early Cannondale mountain bike) were also built around steel frames, with various combinations of modern and old-school components.   So it won't surprise you that we have similar attitudes about bikes and equipment:  While most of our preferences run to old-school bikes and parts, or stuff inspired by them, we don't fetishize "vintage" items.  At the same time, we don't prize technology for the sake of technology.

He sighed about "the Wall Street guys" who came into the shop and wanted the most expensive bike. "They thought that's what they needed to get up the next hill," he mused.  What they really needed, he said, was to spend more time riding.

As often as not, they insisted on buying bikes that were not only "more bike than they needed" but that didn't--or, in some case, couldn't be made to--fit them well.  

I thought about that conversation a few months ago, after encountering a guy who wiped out on an L-shaped turn with a sandtrap.  Bleeding from his arms and legs, his first concerns were his $12,000 bike and $200 saddle--and the $300 helmet he wasn't even wearing.

I couldn't help but to think that guy probably hadn't ridden long or far.  He may not have been, in fact,  one of the "Wall Street guys" Hal was talking about,  but he shared at least part of their mentality:  He seemed to think that buying the "best" (read: most expensive) stuff would make him a better cyclist.

It occurs to me now that the bike may not even have fit him well.  That is a common occurence--by whatever ideas about bike fit you subscribe to--more often than one might expect among customers of ultra-high-end bikes. Dave Farmer, owner of Surrey Cycle Works (in Leatherhead, England) says as much.  "People can now buy 6000, 7000 or 8000 pound bikes online."  As a result, he says, many people are "riding around on very high-end bikes that don't fit them."

One problem is that many of those "very high-end" bikes have "integrated" cockpits.  They're great if speed is your primary goal--and if they fit you.

Most people buy bikes--in whatever price range--buy complete bikes.  Folks like me who buy frames and build them are actually a tiny fragment of the market, even at the highest price ranges.  The problem with complete bikes, at any price, is that they are designed for an "average" person--usually male--of a given height.  

Anyone who's ever measured me for a bike, or helped me to make an adjustment has commented on my legs:  They are long for a person of my height.  So the "square"geometry of many stock frames--on which the seat and top tube are the same length--doesn't work well for me, unless I use a stem with a very short horizontal extension.  Likewise, the "sloping" geometry of many modern frames is less than ideal for me.  

Other people, of course, differ from norms in other ways:  short people with wide shoulders, for example.  Then there is the matter of preferences:  You might prefer a different saddle position from someone else, depending on your riding style.

Integration of cockpits means that, on some bikes, handlebars, stems and seatpost can't be swapped out--or making such changes is very expensive.  If the bike has a standard-diameter steer tube, changing the stem isn't a problem--unless, of course, it's of one piece with the handlebars.  So, if you like the width or shape or your bars, you have to find another set that fits your bike.  And on some bikes, once your seat height is set, it can't be changed.

Oh, and don't get me started on internal cable routing:  I still have nightmares about my bikes that had this feature.  I'm glad that I've never had to change a cable that's routed through the headset--or, worse, had to clean or replace such a headset.

Don't get me wrong:  I see the benefits of integration, at least for some riders.  Turning two pieces into one--like the bars and stem--makes them more aerodynamic, stiffer and stronger.  (Remember the "bull moose" bars on early mountain bikes?) That strength makes it possible to use lighter materials which, of course, helps to lighten the bike.

The thing is, most of the benefits of integrated cockpits (and aerodynamic parts) accrue only if you're riding at the speeds, and for the amount of time, pro riders spend on their saddles.  Otherwise, you have to choose between compromising comfort and convenience, or spending large sums of money for replacement parts--and bike shop labor, if you don't do the work yourself.

So, before spending $12,000 on a bike and, potentially, another $2000 to make it fit, ask yourself how much, or whether, you'll benefit--or whether you're trying to impress somebody.

Wednesday's Ride, On Sunday

Yesterday I took another ride to Point Lookout.  It was, in some ways, what last Wednesday's ride would have been had I taken it on Sunday.  

I don't mean to echo Macbeth's "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow."  The coastal jaunt was entirely pleasant:  Clear skies and calm seas formed a peaceful tableau, and the air was warm--that is, until I crossed the Veterans' Memorial Bridge, from a 28C air temperature to breezes from 9C water. So, while the temperature almost certainly dropped as I came to the ocean, it felt even chillier with the breeze--and my apparel (shorts and short sleeves).  

What was different were the throngs of people lining the Rockaway and Long Beach boardwalks.  I shouldn't have been surprised by that: Even with the chilly breeze, it was the warmest Sunday we've had this year, so far. 

Another thing that shouldn't have surprised me, I suppose, is that few people wore masks.  I know the CDC said that it's OK to go unmasked if you're outdoors and keeping the 3meter/6 foot social distance from strangers--which, of course, it's all but impossible not to do on a bicycle.  

Those recommendations are for people who have been vaccinated.  I got my second dose on the 13th, so according to the guidelines, I'm fully vaccinated.  I had to wonder, though, how many of the people I saw were vaccinated.

Still, though, it was a fine ride.  I did the Point Lookout ride for the opportunity to "let loose" on the long flat stretches--and to try something out that I'll write about later.

How Big Are Your Wheels?

Late in the 19th Century, the high-wheeler ("penny farthing") gave way to the safety bicycle, with two wheels of more or less equal size propelled by a chain-and-gear drive.  That, of course, is what nearly all of us ride today.

But the debate about smaller- vs. larger-diameter wheels rages on, with no sign that it will end.

May Day For Today's Workers

Today is May Day.

This day was, and continues to be, a celebration of Spring, especially in northern European cultures.  Some believe it's rooted in a Roman festival for Flora, the goddess of flowers.  

To this day, throughout Italy, Calendimaggio is celebrated with performances, rituals and gifts that are believed to have their roots in Roman celebratory customs.  And, in France, individuals and workers' are allowed to sell lily of the valley flowers--which Charles IX received as a lucky charm and he, in turn, offered every year to the ladies of the court--tax-free. Perhaps the most elaborate celebrations of this day are found in England and Scotland, where children still perform Maypole dances, a "May Queen" is crowned and traditional poems are recited and songs sung.

In 1889, this day became International Workers' Day, celebrated in some countries as Labor Day.  This date was chosen for its proximity to the anniversary of the Haymarket Massacre, in which a Chicago labor protest rally turned into a riot.   The protestors were calling for, among other things, an eight-hour workday. 

The protestors, and those on whose behalf they were protesting, were mainly blue-collar workers:  factory laborers, longshoremen, construction workers and the like.  Many of those workers--and demonstrators--were immigrants.

Most of those jobs have since disappeared.  And the, ahem, complexions of the immigrants have changed*.  So the sorts of people who would have been working in the factories and on the docks are now making deliveries, whether of building materials on Amazon vans, dinner via electric bikes or documents from a Wall Street brokerage to a midtown legal firm via bicycle.  Dmitry Bondrenko seemed to understand as much when he created this poster:

The "alley cat" race announced in the poster was a benefit for Emily Glos, a Toronto bike messenger who was struck by a car. She survived, but a broken wrist and elbow kept her off her bike, and from making a living, for two months.

*-I recently learned that when Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the first minimum-wage legislation into law, he got Southern Democrats--at that time, the largest bloc in the party--to agree to it by excluding farm and domestic workers--who, in the South, were mainly black. Also, that exclusion garnered support from the large corporate growers in places like California's Central Valley, where most workers were Mexican migrants.

I also learned, not too long ago, that the roots of South Africa's Aprartheid laws were sown by the gold and mining industries, and were designed, in part, that workers in those industries--most of whom were Black--would be virtual slaves.

Worth Its Weight In...

A few days ago, someone paid $5.2 million for a LeBron James trading card from his rookie year.  While I cannot understand paying that much money for a piece of cardboard, I am not surprised:  Basketball, more than any other team sport, focuses attention on individual stars.  And Le Bron James is arguably the brightest of the 21st Century, much as Michael Jordan, "Magic" Johnson and Julius "Dr. J" Erving were the luminaries of their times.

Of course, if someone can afford to spend that much money on a card, well, who am I to tell them they shouldn't?  I suppose that if I had that much money, I probably would--after I helped people I want to help--develop some collection or another.  And some people would wonder why in the world I was collecting whatever it was I was collecting.

If I were collecting bicycles...hmm...would I want classics?   Bikes from a particular country or region?  Genre?  Color?  Or would I concentrate on really obscure bikes, or ones that were not meant to be ridden?

In that last category might be this machine:

Photo by Lisa Powell, for the Springfield News-Sun

The color on the frame didn't come from a Krylon rattle-can. (Aside:  Graffiti artists don't like Krylon. Don't ask how I know that!)  In fact, it didn't come from any can or brush.  It is actual gold.  

To be exact, it's 14 karat gold plating on a chromed frame.  Very few bikes are chromed these days because it's expensive and some jurisdictions have made it all but impossible to do because of its environmental impact.  Also, if not done properly, it's worse than leaving the metal bare.

Even fewer bikes have ever been plated with gold.  For a time, some Campagnolo parts were available with gold plating; a few bike makers made special-edition machines--sometimes one-offs--with the shiny yellow stuff.  In 1972-73, Lambert of England offered its bike built from "aircraft tubing" with gold plating--for $259.95.  Soon afterward, the price of gold skyrocketed and Lambert discontinued those bikes--which, I am sure, are collector's items.

Most other gold-plated bikes were from makers at the very top end of the food chain.  Note that I said "most":  The bike in the photo is not anywhere near that level.

It is, in fact, a Huffy--the millionth bike produced by the company, on 13 May 1947.

The bike is on display in the Dayton Cyclery Building its namesake city's Carillon Park.  Other bikes in the museum pay homage to Miami Valley's history as a bicycle-making center.  Fabricators included a couple of young men who would parlay their knowledge and skills into another invention that would change the world.

Their names were Orville and Wilbur.  They used, not only the expertise in machinery they gleaned from building and repairing bikes, but what they learned about aerodynamics from different bike designs and riding positions. 

Hmm...I wonder what the Wright Brothers thought about Huffy bikes.  From what I've read, Huffy--known in those days as Huffman--bikes were actually respectable.

Another Fine Afternoon RIde

If I took a fine Spring ride the other day, yesterday's spin to Point Lookout would be my first summer ride of the year, sort of.

On Tuesday I began just after noon and got home from Connecticut in time for dinner.  The day began cloudy and chilly but sunlight--and warmth--broke through.  Yesterday, I began a bit before noon and rode through an afternoon when clear skies and bright sun brought the temperature up to 83F (28C), at least in the central parts of the city.

Most of my rides to Point Lookout, including the one I took yesterday, include crossing the Veterans Memorial Bridge. It spans Jamaica Bay and leads to the Rockaway Beach, a string of land barely a kilometer wide that separates the bay from the Atlantic Ocean. 

At this time of year, "mainland" Queens and Manhattan might bask in summery air, if for a day.  But the waters are just emerging from winter:  The ocean temperature at Rockaway Beach was 9C, or 48F, yesterday. The water temperature of Jamaica Bay probably wasn't much higher. That meant the air temperature dropped by about 15 degrees F, or seemed to, when I crossed the bridge and another couple of degrees when I reached the boardwalk.

Not that I minded.  The sun shone so brightly and other cyclists and strollers seemed to be in a good mood.  Also, the wind blew out of the northwest:  in my face for most of the way out, and at my back for most of the way back.

Today bouts of showers are punctuating a cloudy but still warm day.  I might try to sneak in a quick ride between spritzes.  But I'm happy that, for two days in a row, I managed to get in what would normally be, at this time of year, day rides in the space of an afternoon.

Colors Of An Afternoon Ride

 Yesterday I took advantage of the lengthening stretches of daylight:  I took another noon-to-dinner ride that didn't require the lights I brought with me.

As I did last Tuesday, I pedaled to Connecticut and back.  My ride started cloudy and chilly just before noon.  But, by the time I reached Greenwich, clouds opened and sunlight filtered through.  Along the way, cherry blossom, wisteria and lilac flowers seemed to burst with more color with every moment.  

Then there were the tulips on the Greenwich Common Memorial.

 They are in full bloom now.  So, of course, they are bursting with color.  This purple one isn't an "outsider" or as lonely as William Wordsworth's cloud:   Its hue, like the reds and yellows behind it,  seem to be fuller, and more intense, after a couple of hours of riding

Or were my perceptions influenced by the chocolate (Ghirardelli 92 percent) I munched?  I can't help but to believe that it--or Lindt's or, of course, craft dark chocolates--are drugs Dr. Hofmann himself would have envied!

What (And Who) Is This Law For, Anyway?

We shouldn't make a law we're not willing to use guns to enforce.

So opined Adam Sullivan of The Gazette, a newspaper and online publication based in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

He voiced this conclusion in a discussion of bicycle licensing laws.  Though he was dealing mainly with such regulations in Iowa, what brought him into the discussion was the viral video of Perth Amboy, New Jersey police officers stopping a group of kids who were popping wheelies while weaving in and out of traffic.  While one officer lectured the kids about bicycle safety, the cops used the boys' lack of bicycle licenses as a pretext for confiscating their bicycles and taking one boy--who is, ahem, African-American--into custody.

Sullivan called this--and what he deemed "outdated" bicycle licensing laws--government overreach, if not in so few words.  He makes the legitimate point that many Iowa cities once had mandatory bicycle licensing laws, and the system mainly served two purposes:  to give the police a chance to interact and "make nice" with kids and other community members when they registered their bikes, and to aid in the recovery and return of lost and stolen bicycles.

While those might be legitimate purposes, bicycle licensing, which is now mainly voluntary, no longer serves them.  Few, if any, stolen or lost bikes are returned to their original owners, in part because police departments, especially in larger cities and towns, don't place bike theft or loss high on their list of priorities.  Also, most bicycle licensing systems began during the 1950s and 1960s, when most Americans still thought, "bikes are for kids."  Today, many more bikes are ridden by--and the stolen from--adults.  So, there is less reason for cops to use bike-safety classes to build rapport with kids, or the larger community.

Also, people's attitudes toward cops, especially in cities, are very different, to say the least, from what they were a couple of generations ago.  So the bike-safety and community efforts would be seen as condescending by some and overreach, as Sullivan says, by others.

While Sullivan frames his argument against bike licensing laws--or any other regulations that can't be, or aren't being, enforced--in libertarian terms, I think his editorial also implies another question:  What, exactly is/are the purpose(s) of bicycle licensing regulations?  If almost no stolen or otherwise missing bikes, with or without tags, are returned to their owners, and meaningful efforts toward improving bicycling safety aren't made by police officers or others who understand cycling (or, better yet, are actually regular cyclists), what good is it to require tags?

Oh, and there is the issue of cost:  Perth Amboy bike licenses cost 50 cents. (How long ago was their law enacted?)  As Sullivan points out, most Iowa bike licenses cost around five dollars.  I have to wonder just how much money is actually collected, and how much it actually helps to make cycling safer.  While I think low-income people shouldn't have to pay for licenses, I also believe that those who can afford to pay more, should, if bicycle licensing programs are to serve any real purpose.

On the whole, I am in agreement with Sullivan on his main point:  Any law that isn't going to be enforced--or, worse, that will be enforced selectively, as it was in Perth Amboy-- shouldn't be on the books.  Ditto for any law that isn't used for the overall public good--or no longer has, or never had, a real purpose-- as is too often the case with laws related to bicycles and bicycling.

 

Balancing Their Needs

 A week ago, I wrote about the measure l'Assemblee Nationale approved.  It would give a 2500 Euro (almost 3000 USD) grant for an electric bicycle to anyone who turns in an old, highy-polluting car, which would be used for scrap.  

Although I dream, to this day, of people giving up, not only two wheels for four, but also petrol power for muscle juice, I understand why some people can't or won't ride bicycles that require their own input in order to move.  Some are elderly and frail; others have illnesses and disabilities--including balance issues.

Of course, that last problem is also a reason why someone wouldn't ride an electric or otherwise-assisted bicycle.  Jiaming Xiong and his colleagues at China's Beijing University recognized as much.  So, they created what they describe as a self-balancing electric bicycle.

What look like training wheels are attached to the rear stay.  It also looks like they're mounted just above ground level so that one of them touches when the bike wobbles, or is turned.

More important, and revolutionary, though are the gyroscopic sensors. They detect when the bike starts to lean and trigger it to steer into the direction of the potential fall in order to stabilize the bike.  

Another benefit I can see is that it's less cumbersome than an adult tricycle. (Are there electric or motorized adult trikes?)  It would take up less space and, perhaps most important, would probably be more maneuverable and visible in traffic.

If there are positive side-effects to the pandemic, one of them just might be efforts to make bicycling, in whatever form, more inclusive and practical for more people.  This self-balancing electric bike, like the French scheme, are two examples of that.

Who And What Can It Carry?

Two questions for today:

1.  What do you carry on your bicycle?

2.  How many people can, or should, ride it at one time?

 

Seeing Myself, Seeing Themselves In Alex

 Last month, I wrote two posts--"The Unbearable Whiteness of Cycling" and "Our Bodies, Our Bikes"--in which I describe how some people are discouraged from bicycling because they don't see themselves represented in images of cycling and cyclists.  Too often, ads and other media show only certain types of people astride bikes.  Usually, they are young and Caucasian--and thin, especially if they are female.  By implication, the folks depicted in those images are, or seem to be, middle-to-upper class professionals or living on trust funds.

And they all seem to fit cultural notions of gender and sexuality as well as they fit the "lifestyle" apparel they wear.  The women might be fit, even somewhat muscular, but they always fit into  standards of femininity and attractiveness of their milieu.  The men likewise fit into their society's ideas of masculinity.  Nowhere does one find any hit of gender non-conformity or "queerness."

In those posts, I also mentioned that I nearly gave up cycling when I started my gender-affirmation process because while I saw dudes on bikes who looked something like the guy named Nick I was--and images of men like that--I didn't see many of middle-aged women and, although I had mental images of the woman I wanted to be, I really had no idea of what I'd actually become, other than a woman named Justine, and whether she would be anything like any of the few women I saw on bikes.  

That, after I spent much of my life cycling--and some of my youth participating in other sports--in an attempt to fit into those notions of masculinity (and heterosexuality) represented, not only in bike-related ads and art, but in the general culture.  And, I must say that I fit in, at least somewhat:  I got respect in my circles of bike riders and other athletes as well as from teachers and professors.  Sometimes I was teased for not bragging about sexual conquests of girls or women, but the taunts could be taken only so far when the taunters and teasers saw me beside a woman.

Now, I've been talking about seeing myself, or one's self in images of cycling and cyclists.  While I am referring to visual and graphic ones, I am not referring only to them:  I know how much all of us--gay, straight, trans, cis, male, female, White, Black, Asian, Hispanic, Pacific/Alaskan Native, rich, poor, or whatever--need to hear our stories echoed, or at least paralleled, in the ones told in books, magazines and newspapers, or on websites, radio, television, film or podcasts.

Alex Showerman in the White Mountains of New Hampshire

That is why I had a brief catharsis in reading about Alex Showerman.  As much as she excelled as a cyclist, as well as in other sports and in school,  "I was not experiencing the world as I wanted to, and the world didn't see me as I wanted to be seen."  This sense of isolation and alienation led to depression, which she tried to numb with alcohol.

In 2015, she began seeing a gender therapist to make sense of who she is.  Last July,  on a bike trip in New Hampshire with two of her closest friends, she "came out" for the first time.  She never felt so free, she said:  She finally could ride just for the love of riding rather than to "outrun her shadows," as a Bicycling article put it, or to pound herself into maleness, as I tried to do.

I am happy that she has begun to live as her true self a decade and a half earlier in her life than I did in mine--and that she realizes that life includes cycling.  She might become the cyclist in an image in which some young trans girl or boy--or other gender or sexual non-conformist--sees him-, her- or them-self for the first time.

Cycling While Black, I Mean, Without A License

You've probably seen them:  groups of kids, almost always boys, weaving their bikes in and out of traffic lanes, veering across center lines and riding as close as they can to oncoming cars.  Sometimes, they're popping wheelies as they're zigging and zagging along the pavement.

When I see such groups, if I can catch the gaze of one of their members, I might yell, "Be careful, OK" or simply give them what I believe is a concerned but nonjudgmental look.  Kids need to be kids and, truth be told, I did more than a few stupid and dangerous things.  But I want them to be able to look back and reflect on, well, the stupid and dangerous things they got away with doing.

If cops are going to deal with them, they should stop to the kids and talk to them.  They might continue what they were doing as soon as the cops are out of sight, but I think the cops should at least make them think.  Ticketing--or, worse, arresting--them on bogus charges probably will accomplish nothing more than to make them more distrustful of authority, and defiant, than they already are.

Especially if the charge is one that has never been levied in the history of the kids' community.  

That is what happened last week in Perth Amboy, New Jersey--a city connected to Staten Island, New York by the Outerbridge Crossing.  I occasionally ride through it as I'm pedaling to other parts of New Jersey and I rode in and through it fairly often when I was a student at Rutgers.

Then, the majority of Perth Amboy residents were poor or working-class Hispanics, and there was a sizable Black community.  In that sense, it hasn't changed, save for which Hispanic and Black people live there.  Also not changed is the relationship between the people and the ones who police them.

An already high tension level has ratcheted up during the past year, in the wake of George Floyd's murder and other crimes and misdeeds by police officers against non-white people.  Things could have reached a breaking point--and might, still--after videos surfaced of the police confiscating the bikes and handcuffing one of the boys--who happens to be African American.

The charge--riding while black, I mean, without a bicycle license. I'd love to know when was the last time, before last week, that law was enforced.

 

Afternoon Nourishment

Over the past week or two, clouds have blanketed, and rain has fallen on, this part of the world more often than the sun has shone.  But the days have grown noticeably longer:  Every day, it seems, the sun sets a few minutes later.

That means I can start early in the afternoon and still get a decent ride in.  On Monday, I rambled along local streets and roads to the North Shore and central Queens to Flushing Meadows-Corona Park.  

The cherry blossoms were, well, not quite blossoms, not yet.  But the buds were visibly more open than they were over the weekend: open enough that I could envision the pink canopy the grove will soon provide.

I deliberately used the word "provide" because such sensual spectacles are sustenance for me:  They sustain me on my journey and the journey.

The following day, I didn't see cherry blossoms after I pedaled a few miles from my apartment.  I pedaled north and east, across the RFK Bridge into the Bronx and Westchester--into Connecticut.  I realize now that the difference in latitude, however slight, may have been enough to make a difference in the blooms:  Festivals in Washington, DC and much of Japan happen early in April (or even late March) because their trees, at a more southerly latitude, are exposed to the necessary sunlight, and therefore bloom, earlier.

I did, however, enjoy a snack or late light lunch*, depending on how you look at it, by a bed of tulips:

The soldiers, sailors and flyers commemorated at the Greenwich Memorial aren't buried there. Throughout my life, as I've become increasingly anti-war, I have become more pro-veteran.  Maybe I still have the hope that one day, whether or not it happens during my lifetime, no one else will have to do what they did--and that beauty can flourish in the ruins.

All right, enough faux-profound commentary.  It was great to start after noon and finish a 145 kilometer ride well before dark--and to chow down on some Italian American soul food--baked ziti and salad--after feeding my apartment mate.**

*--A quarter of a whole wheat baguette with Brad's peanut butter and Bonne Maman preserves--cherry on half, wild blueberry on the other half.

**--I always feed Marlee before I feed myself.  I got into the habit of feeding my cat(s) first years ago, with my first feline companion.