He Lost His Key, Not His BIke

The pandemic has brought both out the altruism and avariciousness of people.  It's also revealed their creativity and hideboundedness, as well as their brilliance and sheer stupidity.

Examples of the latter include the woman who got busted for using a fake vaccine card.  Her forgery was detected because the name of the vaccine she didn't receive was spelled "Maderna."

As if there isn't enough boneheadedness to go around, a probably-soon-to-be-former San Jose Sharks forward Evander Kane got himself suspended for a quarter of the season because he violated the National Hockey League's COVID-19 protocol.  His offense?  He submitted a fake vaccine card.

And, to prove that idiocy knows no boundaries, there's Singapore Police Station inspector Ong Chee Seng.  On 26 May, the 50-year-old rode his foldable bicycle to a shopping mall so he could buy lunch. When he returned to his bike, he couldn't find his key.  He tried to borrow a cutter from the mall's security personnel, but they wouldn't help him because they couldn't verify that the bike was his.

Later that day, he sent a message on his WhatsApp group chat, asking whether he could borrow a cutter.  One friend jokingly suggested that he call the police and claim he'd found his stolen bicycle.  The constables, this friend jested, could then perform a "free service" for him.

The rest of this story illustrates something else we've learned during this pandemic:  There's no counsel so bad that nobody will follow it. (Think of the folks who followed Trump's advice and injected themselves with cleaning products.) So, Ong called the Punggol Neighborhood Police Center and told the officer who answered, "I found my stolen bicycle here at the bicycle bay of Waterway Point.  I need police assistance."

Google Street View image

He led officers dispatched to the scene to another nearby location, claiming it was stolen when he locked it there.  When one of the officers said he'd check the CCTV cameras, Ong confessed to his lie. He was then charged with providing false information to police that led to an investigation.

On 3 September, he was suspended from the Singapore Police Force and the other day, he was fined $3000.  The SPF has also initiated "internal action" against him. If stupidity were a crime, his sentence surely would have been greater.

Real Cities Have....

 Earlier this week, New York City Mayoral candidates Eric Adams and Curtis Sliwa debated.  The latter, best known as the founder of the Guardian Angels, expressed one position I wholeheartedly agree with:  his stance on animal welfare.  He said that, if elected, all of the city's animal shelters would become "no kill" shelters.  He deemed it "barbaric" that there are still horse-drawn carriages on city streets.

The only purpose those animals and carts serve is the amusement of tourists around Central Park. Thus, his wish to ban them is, I believe, well-founded.  The same cannot be said for his stance on bike lanes and traffic.  He believes there's a "war on cars" on this city, and has vowed to remove bike lanes in neighborhoods where they're less-used.

I think, like any good politician--which is what Sliwa has always been--Sliwa is echoing his supporters, many of whom believe that "their" streets and parking spaces are being stolen, "invasion of the body snatchers-style" by terrible, evil cyclists.  

Apparently, that sentiment echoes in other cities:

  You can't even go to South Water Street in Providence anymore, at least not without wearing a bulletproof vest and duct taping AirPods to your ears.  Nothing screams "thug" like a skinny person in bicycle shorts.

Dan McGowan obviously doesn't think that way.  He followed that paragraph in his Boston Globe editorial with this:  Said absolutely no one ever.  He used his platform to praise outgoing Providence Mayor Jorge Elorza for building bike lanes and in general planning with the recognition that the future of his city, and others, cannot be car-centric.  Those efforts, and similar work by other officials, led McGowan to this conclusion:  Real Cities Have Bike Lanes.

Bike lane on South Water Street in Providence.  Photo by Barry Chin, for the Boston Globe.

He is partially right.  Bike lanes can be an integral part of a city's infrastructure and thus encourage cycling if those lanes are well-conceived, -designed and -constructed.  They need to make cycling safer by taking into account the actual experience of cycling on urban streets or county roads. (As an example, the lane has to be built and traffic signals coordinated so that cyclists can proceed through an intersection, or make a left turn, ahead of right-turning motorists.)  And those lanes should be practical:  They should enable cyclists to pedal from their homes to schools, workplaces, shopping areas and other common destinations.  I've seen too many bike lanes that begin in seemingly arbitrarily locations and end abruptly.  

So, I would amend Dan McGowan's conclusion with one word:  Real cities have practical bike lanes.

All Aboard The Bike Train--To School

Some people can be enticed into bicycle commuting if it's practical, safe and convenient.  Bike lanes that connect--or at least facilitate connections--between cyclists and everyday destinations like schools and workplaces are one "carrot," if you will.  Another is safe bicycle parking facilities, not only at said schools and workplaces, but also at transportation hubs.  After all, if someone's job is a 45 minute train or bus ride away, he or she isn't likely to pedal all the way.  But that commuter could be persuaded into riding instead of driving to the train or bus station. 

Now, here's something that is rarely, if ever, addressed in planning bicycle (or other transportation) policy and infrastructure:  getting more kids to ride in school.  In some rural areas, where the bus ride might be even longer than it is for a suburban resident's commute to the city office, that might not be practical.  But it could make sense in urban and suburban areas, or even in some small towns, where the trip to school might be a ten-minute bus ride--or a half-hour walk.

The biggest hurdle to getting kids to ride to work, though, might not be convincing the kids themselves.  Rather, it's allaying parents' not-unjustifiable fears for their kids' safety.  But a solution is one that's been in use for some time, though not for bicycling.

On any school day, you might find yourself stopping at an intersection--or somewhere along the path in your local park--by a "train."  I'm not talking about the ones that run on steel rails.  Rather, I am talking about a line of kids who might be latching onto a rope or other line, and supervised by their teacher or aide.  Well, some folks in East Lansing, Michigan are guiding kids to school in the same way:  The kids ride in a line, accompanied by a chaperone who picks each one up along the way.

Photo by Margaret Cahill, from Fox47 News

This "bike train" was organized by Jeff Potter, an aide and substitute teacher at Red Cedar Elementary School who also just happens to be a cyclist.  While he admits that keeping the kids together is "like herding cats," he thinks the "train" is a "community builder."  The kids have a chance to interact with each other on the way to school.  This, he believes, has "improved school behavior and their awareness of the neighborhood." 

Principal Rinard Pugh agrees and adds there is another benefit.  "There's fewer kids in cars," he explains.  That "helps to improve health and fitness" which, he explains, "is really important with our kids coming off COVID."  In addition to getting kids to exercise and interact, it also gets them outside which, Pugh explains, is especially important during the pandemic.

So, bicycle trains not only help to accomplish, for kids, one goal of good bicycle policy:  making bicycling safe and convenient.  In addition, it helps in dealing with the pandemic.  Perhaps more people and communities will get "aboard" with this idea.

Will Seattle Repeal Its Helmet Law?

In March, I wrote about how debates over Seattle's bike-helmet law came to include arguments about racial and economic justice.  As with so many laws, it has been unequally enforced:  African-Americans and Native Americans (the latter of whom the Emerald City has one of the largest communities) are more likely to be cited, fined and even arrested for cycling bareheaded.  If Black and Native cyclists ride bareheaded, it's not because they value their brains less or feel more impervious than, say, White or Asian cyclists.  Rather, helmets--which, I believe, should be bought unused--sometimes cost more than the bicycles people ride, which may have been bought cheaply, donated or gifted to their riders, or rescued from a dumpster.

Now another facet of that racial/economic justice has surfaced as the King County Board of Health considers a vote to repeal the law, which has been on the books since 2003.  Most bike lanes in US cities didn't exist when law was passed.  Neither did three kinds of vehicles that, today, often outnumber traditional bicycles on those lanes:  electric bikes, motorized bikes and scooters.  While scooters, especially those with electric or motorized assists, are ridden (at least here in NYC) mainly by the young and relatively affluent, riders of e-bikes and motorized bikes are older or, most often, delivery workers who are (again, at least here in NYC) most likely to be poor immigrants who may speak little, if any, English and thus have few other options for earning income.

Ever since I started wearing a helmet, I've encouraged others to do likewise.  My endorsement of them has grown more emphatic over the past year because the surgeon who examined me said, in essence, that I came out of a crash I suffered last year because I was wearing one.  And, while I was once sympathetic to the libertarian arguments against helmet laws, I feel that there should be incentives for wearing them.

Most important, though, I think that if any jurisdiction wants to mandate helmets, it has to enforce the policy consistently and fairly.  That has been the main argument for repealing King County's law:  It has never been enforced equitably, let alone fairly, and doing so has become even more difficult.  So, the argument goes, why should a law exist if it can't or won't be enforced.

Photo by Sylvia Jarrus, for the Seattle Times

That logic makes sense for some laws, such as the ones against using, possessing or selling marijuana.  As with the 1920s prohibition against alcohol or the cabaret laws that ostensibly led to the 1969 Stonewall Inn raid, it was used mainly as a weapon against certain groups of people.  I agree that a law shouldn't be enforced disproportionately against some people, but I also think that not all laws are equally valuable, or even necessary.  To wit:  I think there's no reason to prohibit marijuana, alcohol or some other substances.  The only laws regarding them, I believe, should impose an age limit on who can purchase or use them and the contents of those substances.  And there's no reason to limit what goes on in a bar or cafe as long as it doesn't harm employees, patrons or the general public.  On the other hand, the burden of obeying a law shouldn't fall on some people more than others.  People who pedal traditional bicycles are far more likely than those who ride motorized or electric bikes, or scooters.  (I almost never see a scooter-rider with a helmet.)  

So, if the folks in King County want to repeal their helmet law, I hope they do so for the right, or at least good, reasons.  An unwillingness to enforce it--equitably, or at all--is not one of them.

Because That's Where The Bikes Are

Because that's where the money is.

So responded Willie Sutton to the question of why he robbed banks.  I got to thinking about him when I wrote yesterday's post and a story that came my way afterward.

One reason why some people don't include cycling in their daily commute is their all-too-justifiable concern that when they park their bikes at the train or bus station in the morning, it won't be there when they return in the evening.  Bike thieves know that transportation hubs are mother lodes for bikes that can be quickly sold or parted out.

Another rich vein for velocipedic gold, if you will, is college campuses.  Students at California Polytechnic State University (Cal Poly) in San Luis Obispo have discovered this the hard way.  

While some students lost their bike through carelessness--  they thought they could leave their bikes "for a minute" or used their big, strong U-Locks only on the front wheel--others who were careful and diligent nonetheless have lost machines they depend on for transportation as well as recreation.

Students who lost their bikes echo a common refrain of victims in other venues:  The cops don't care.  Their complaint is valid:  The percentage of stolen bikes that are reunited with their owners is abysmally low.  That, even though, "At bike shops in town, it's not uncommon to see stolen bikes come in," according to Sam Coyle, a Cambria Bicycle Outfitters Employee.

And the the thieves went to where the bikes are.

Six Parking Spaces At Grand Central

Imagine free tickets to a Beyoncé concert--on a first-come-first-serve basis.  

Imagine that only six are available.

Yesterday, New York's Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) made an announcement akin to what I've described.

But, instead of concert tickets, what the MTA is about to offer are secure bicycle parking spaces at Grand Central Station.

Those spots will become available next month, after a locker is installed in the terminal's "taxiway" that closed twenty years ago.  The locker will be operated by a company called Oonee and accessible a smartphone app or key card.  

Rendering of bike parking locker at Grand Central Station, courtesy of Oonee

This offering will be a year-long pilot which, hopefully, will lead to more safe bicycle parking in this city's transportation terminals. 

When asked what he thought about a country without a flag, Mort Sahl* said, "Well, it's a start."  That's my response, for now, to the MTA's announcement.

*--More recently, he reported that Donald Trump was "hospitalized for an attack of modesty."

There's No College There, But There's An Education

This weekend included a change of seasons and cultures--and rides.

While, officially, we're deep into Fall, from Thursday through the middle of Saturday, it felt more like early summer.  I took Friday's ride, to Connecticut, in what I might wear around Memorial Day or Labor Day--a pair of shorts and a fluorescent green T-shirt.  The breeze took some of the edge off the humidity.

Saturday morning, I pedaled out to Kesso's for some fresh Greek yogurt.  Alas, they were closed.  I hope everything is OK there: Perhaps they, like so many other shops--and people--couldn't get some thing or another they needed because of the interrupted supply chains that have emptied store shelves.  Later in the day, wind drove hard rain against leaves, windows and faces.

Yesterday, the wind let up--for a little while--and temperatures were more fall-like.  I took a spin along the North Shore of Queens and western Nassau County, which took me into a neighborhood frequented by almost nobody who doesn't live there--in spite of its proximity to a mecca for in-the-know food enthusiasts.

On a map, College Point is next to Flushing.  But the two neighborhoods could just as well be on diffeent planets.  The latter neighborhood, one of the city's most crowded, has been known as the "Queens Chinatown" for the past three decades or so.  There are dozens of places where one can sample a variety of regional cuisines, and have everything from a formal dining experience to chow on the run.  Those places are centered around Roosevelt Avenue and Main Street, at the end of the 7 line of the New York subway system--and one stop away from Citi Field, the home of the New York Mets, and the US Tennis Center, site of the US Open and other events.

College Point is "off the grid," if you will--away from the city's transit systems and accessible only by winding, narrow streets that dead-end in inconvenient places or truck-trodden throughfares that, at times, resemble a moonscape, that weave through industrial parks, insular blue-collar communities and views of LaGuardia Airport and the Manhattan skyline one doesn't see in guidebooks.

Until recently, College Point--which, pervesely, includes no college--was populated mostly by the children and  Irish, German and Italian construction workers and city employees who were the children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren of Irish, German and Italian construction workers and city employees.  Their houses were smaller versions of the nearby factories and warehouses: squat brick structures framed by latticeworks of steel or wooden trellises, cornices  and fences.

In that sense, this place fits right in:

The New York Hua Lian Tsu Hui Temple is--you guessed it--a square brick building framed with wooden cornices and a steel fence.  The cornices,  though, are different:  They signal the purpose of the building, and signify other things.  Apparently, Chinese and Korean people who needed more space to raise their kids--or simply wanted to escape the crowding of Flushing--have "discovered" the neighborhood.  

Some have families and pets:

Marlee, though, was not impressed!  All she knows is that when I'm on my bike (or doing anything outside the apartment), I'm not there for her to curl up on.

Where Do They Grow?

 Kid:  "Can you buy me this bike?"

Parent:  "Money doesn't grow on trees, you know!"

A Fair Trade?

So you have a seatpost in a size you'll never use?  A derailleur you haven't used since you "upgraded" your bike from six speeds?  Or a single odd pedal?

Or maybe you have a bike you haven't gotten around to fixing and don't want to attract crazies with a Craigslist ad.

Well, you can trade those parts and bikes for...beer.

Yes, you read that right.  At least, you can make such a transaction if you're in Albuquerque this weekend.  Canteen Brewhouse has teamed up with the Esperanza Community Bike Shop to collect donations until tomorrow.

A bike will get you a beer, and parts will get you a discount.  

From Ice To Fire: The Journey of Iohan Guorguiev

Yesterday's post ended with a reference to Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken."  Today's post will be a tribute to someone whose life was, almost literally, one of those roads.

Nobody seems to know anything about the first fifteen years of Iohan Guorguiev's life, except that he was born in Bulgaria.  That's how he wanted it, according to even the people who knew him best:  His classmates and friends in Canada, the country to which he moved as a teenager.  

Iohan Guorguiev.  Photo by Matt Bardeen, from the NY Times

Most cyclists, and indeed the world, probably never would have heard of this young man who called himself "The Bike Wanderer"  and was born not to follow, but to push through, "The Road Not Taken" were it not for the videos he left on his website.  The first one includes this bit of repartee between him and a trucker:

What's your name?

Iohan

Where are you going?

Argentina

On your bike?

Yeah

Oh, man, I love you!

Iohan and that trucker met on a "highway" plowed on ice somewhere in the far north of Canada. Seven years later, Iohan made it to Argentina, but not to the southern tip--Tierra del Fuego--as he'd planned.  I have no idea of how long a trip like that "typically" takes, but Iohan seems, at times, almost apologetic that it's taking that amount of time.  Of course, one reason to take such a trip is to see what you can see and meet whom you can meet along the way which, of course, doesn't make for straight-arrow travel. But he also occasionally flew back to Canada so he could work to make money for his journey, pick up supplies and catch up with people.  He would then return to wherever he'd left off and continue his trip.

That "shuttle," if you will, explains why he didn't make it to "the last stop before Antarctica," if you will.  He returned to Canada in March of 2020, just in time for--you guessed it--the mess we've been in ever since, i.e., the COVID-19 pandemic.  Borders shut down, which left him, and everyone else unable to leave their country. (I guess the final leg of a hemisphere-long journey is not considered "essential" travel.)

Like most of us, he probably didn't anticipate being locked down for as long as he was.  Being unable to continue his journey probably exacerbated health issues, like insomnia, that seemed to have developed during the extended periods of time he spent at high altitudes.  Since I never knew him and therefore cannot psychoanalyze him, I am merely speculating when I say that perhaps being deprived of the thing that kept him going also magnified some long-standing hurts or other issues, which may have had something to do with why he didn't talk about his past.

In any event, the toll of not being able to follow his heart--which, I think, is all he ever could follow--was simply too much for him.  Tragically, he took his own life, at age 33, in August.

If you are having thoughts of suicide, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 (TALK). You can find a list of additional resources at SpeakingOfSuicide.com/resources.

The Ride Taken

 How do you know you’re on a perfect Fall ride?

I might have been on one today, on the Pelham Bay trail near the Bronx-Westchester border.

The temperature reached 25C—77F.  It’s warm for this time of year, but the wind I pedaled into on my way up—and that pushed me home—made it feel less unseasonal.

Ridding that path, I thought of Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.”

Sparr In Style

 Yesterday, while out for an afternoon ride, I passed Sparr's Antiques & Militaria (How often have you seen a name like that?) as I have many times before.  I couldn't help but to notice that they were displaying many of their wares outside, including something I hadn't seen in the shop before:

This, according to the owner is an "all original, except for the tires" Schwinn Spitfire--from 1957.  He says "everything was overhauled," which, from the looks of it, I can believe.  I couldn't help but to notice, though, some of the details unique to bikes like it:

Current reproductions of Schwinn cruisers usually have chromed, or at least chrome-like, rims.  Also, the forks are tubular, in contrast to the bladed forks on Schwinns of yore.

Plus, the new reproductions don't seem to get the graceful sweep of the frame tubes' curve.  It may not be a practical matter, but bikes like this one are all about style.

As is a shop like Sparr's, if in a different way.

A Cross I Didn't Have To Bear

It's been a while since I've been to church for anything but a wedding, funeral or memorial service. (At least they weren't my own!) But I have to admit that I at least stop and take notice when I see a cross looming over a landscape, like the Croix de Fer atop Mount Royal in Montreal.

For me, oversized crucifixes are both awe-inspiring and intimidating.  On one hand, I am impressed with the effort it takes to build any large structure that stands out in its environment. On the other, I can't help but to think about people who've been tortured and killed while or by hanging, whether from an upright tree or crossed staffs.  

Sometimes I wonder whether the person who constructed a large cross-like structure intended it to mean more than just its ostensible function--which, in this case, seems to have something to do with sails.

Somehow, seeing it over the water seems especially fitting today, the anniversary of Columbus' "discovery" of the Americas.  (I think Vikings, and possibly even Phoenicians, got here before him.  And neither they nor he "discovered" anything:  There were plenty of people living on this side of the ocean already.)  Colonizers claimed lands in the name of their church as well as the rulers of the countries from which they sailed.

Although I was pedaling into the wind when I saw this "cross" during a ride along the World's Fair Marina, my trek wasn't nearly as difficult as anything a "cross" represents!

 

The State Of Cycling In NYC, According to the DOT

In New York, as in other cities, the number of cyclists spiked early in the COVID-19 pandemic.  

According to the city's Department of Transportation, in 2020, 21 percent more cyclists crossed the East River bridges than in the previous year.  Those bridges, which include the Brooklyn, Manhattan, Williamsburg, Queensboro (59th Street) and RFK (Triboro) Bridges, which connect Manhattan with Brooklyn and Queens.  They are commonly used by bicycle commuters as well as recreational and fitness cyclists.  

This year, however, the number of cyclists crossing those bridges has decreased by 10 percent from last year. Still, this year-to-date number of cyclists is well ahead of 2019 or previous years.  And the number of cyclists has grown five times faster than in other US cities, according to DOT data.

DOT Commissioner Hank Gutman said that cycling is "here to stay" in New York.  But he would not draw comparisons with cities in other countries where cycling is more central to the culture, and drivers and pedestrians are therefore more cognizant of cyclists.

While the DOT data shows a drop in bridge crossings, I am not so sure that there is an overall decrease in the number of bike riders in my home town.  There may be less inter-borough commuting because, as DOT data indicate, vehicular traffic is back to pre-pandemic levels.  That might be a deterrent to some people who started riding last year.  So might be the seemingly-exponential increase in the number of motorized bikes (many of which are used by delivery workers) and scooters.  They seem to outnumber cyclists on the bike lanes, as well as on the streets, and too many e-bike, motorbike and scooter riders sideswipe cyclists and pedestrians and pay no heed to traffic signals.   

NYC DOT Commissioner Hank Gutman (Photo by Clayton Guse, for the NY Daily News)

Freedom!

 Three years ago, for the only time in my life, I saw an elephant that wasn’t in captivity—in Cambodia, near the Angkor Wat.  I was about to take my phone out of my bag so I could take a photo.  But that elephant was surprisingly quick, and I didn’t want to startle it:  Elephants don’t attack humans deliberately, but they have poor eyesight and therefore stomp people and other creatures because they mistaken us for predators or simply don’t see us.

Since then, I haven’t been to a zoo and may never go to one again.  I prefer to see animals free, if at a safe distance:

Not The Best Getaway Vehicle

 Call me sexist (a transgender woman!), but I reserve some of my greatest contempt for healthy young males who prey, in any way on anyone, especially females, who are smaller, weaker or in any way more vulnerable.  Perhaps it has something to do with my old-school blue-collar upbringing in Brooklyn and New Jersey.

But I also couldn’t resist the impulse toward derision when I heard about the perp who, just seven kilometers and a few neighborhoods due  east of my apartment, knocked a ten-year-old girl off her bike.  He then took her bike and cell phone and took off on her bike.

I feel terrible for the girl, but I couldn’t help but to chuckle when I saw the bike.  It’s the sort of thing little girls ride all over the world:  a small drop-bar frame, painted pink, with butterflies on it.

When was the last time you heard of a thief using something like that for a getaway vehicle?

I hope the girl is OK and that she gets the help she’ll need. (Contrary to what we’ve been told, kids aren’t always resilient.  And why should we expect them to be?)  

I also wouldn’t want to be the pero when he ends up in Rikers! For one thing, there’s no one other inmates—even the most incorrigible criminals—hate more than a human-shaped male being (I refuse to call such a creature a “man”) who commits violence against women or children.  Oh, and he tried to get away on a little pink butterflies on it.  They’ll never let him live that down!

Not Making Money In The Bike Shop? Blame Schwinn, He Says

 When I worked in bike shops, friends and family members couldn’t understand how I made so little money when bikes cost so much.

Mind you, that was when few bikes had four-figure price tags, let alone the five-figure tags attached to some of today’s machines.

I would try to explain that small local shops didn’t make much profit—and, as often as not, none at all on bikes themselves, especially high-end bikes.  For one thing, it’s expensive to run a shop:  To do it, you need a lot of space, which is pricey in any good location for a shop. Then, a shop needs fixtures specifically for displaying and working on bikes, as well as tools and machines.  And a shop owner has to pay to keep the lights on—and keep the tax authorities happy.*

On top of all of that, the shop has to have inventory, as some shop owners learned the hard way during the pandemic.  In pre-pandemic times, some bikes could sit in display racks for months, or even years.  That wasn’t as much of a problem back when, say, one year’s Peugeot or Raleigh wasn’t so different from the previous or following year’s models, and component manufacturers stuck with the same designs for decades. But the bicycle industry now follows the planned-obsolescence business model that prevails in other industries, like the automotive.  That means a bike that doesn’t sell at full retail price by the end of the season has to be significantly marked down if it is to sell at all.  Because of the planned-obsolescence model, some manufacturers don’t allow retailers to return bikes, and penalize dealers for not meeting sales quotas.

The business model I’ve described gives bike companies a lot of power over shops, especially small ones.  Among other things, it gives companies like Specialized and Giant the ability to mandate the amount of merchandise shops must purchase, and at what price.  It also gives those companies the ability to control retail prices.  That is why you won’t find much price variation from shop to shop among models from the major brands—except, perhaps, during end-of-season sales, which usually involve the extreme sizes and colors that weren’t popular.

What all of this means is that when dealers have to pay high prices and are told they can sell at a price that yields a relatively small margin—from which they have to pay the costs of running a shop—they have to keep those costs down wherever they can. As often as not, that means low wages for shop employees.

In times past, shops made most of their money from repairs or accessories, helmets, clothing, shoes and gloves and, to a lesser degree, from parts.  Now, though, most of those items are available at significantly lower prices from online retailers.  One shop owner lamented that people came to his shop to try on shoes and helmets they later bought online.

According to Ray Keener, who’s been in the bike industry for about as long as I’ve been alive, one bike manufacturer had much to do with making the current situation.  

To people under 40, Schwinn is just another bike brand sold in Target and Wal-Mart. But, for three decades or so after World War II, it was the only American bike marque with even a pretense of quality.  This gave it the power—upheld in several court cases—to control, not only prices, but what shops could and couldn’t sell.  This, he argues, also effectively gave Schwinn the ability to depress bike shop wages.

And that is why the Bicycle Industry Employers Association’s guarantee of a $32K annual income to mechanics who complete their training can be touted as progress, even if it’s not a living wage in most American cities!

*—Sometimes, there are also “unofficial” taxes—like the one by a waste-hauler who told the owner of a shop I patronized, “You will use our services.”

They're Uniting With The Other Airlines

 What do World Airways, Tower Air, Air India, Pakistan International Airlines, Delta, Air France and KLM have in common?

Well, they have (or had, in the case of World and Tower) many of the same destinations.  Oh, and I've flown them all.

World and Tower no longer exist.  Delta, Air France and KLM have become part of the SkyTeam group, but they were separate entities when I flew them.  And, although I've taken Air India and Pakistan International, I've never been to either of those countries.  I flew them because, until nonstops were available, flights from the US to India or Pakistan stopped in Europe.  With the demise of World and Tower (and other low-cost airlines like Laker), that became the cheapest way to get to Paris.

All of those airlines, though, had this going for them:  They didn't charge extra to fly your bicycle--if it was in a box or bag that didn't exceed their size regulations (Bike boxes from shops fit the bill!), and as long as you didn't exceed the allowed weight.  The boxed or bagged bike counted as one of your pieces of checked luggage--of which, as I recall correctly, you were allowed two, weighing a total of 32 kilos (about 70 pounds)--in coach/economy class, no less.  Since I travelled (and still try to travel light), I never came close to the weight limit.

All of that, of course, was before 9/11.  Then airlines used "security measures" as an excuse, not only to increase fares, but to slap all manner of surcharges on to the final tab.  Bikes were considered "oversized" or "security risks," were charged as much as $200--each way, in addition to "oversize" or "excess weight" fees.  Some airlines didn't allow bikes at all.

Now, thankfully, things are starting, however slowly, to return to what they were two decades ago. United Airlines has just announced that it's ending its $200 surcharge for bikes--something competitors Delta and American did recently.  Perhaps more important, the oversized-bag fees are also being waived for bicycles.  But whatever you check in still has to fall within the airline's weight limits:  23 kg (about 50 pounds) for economy class, and 32 kilos for business or first class.

Better still, United doesn't have some draconian mandate regarding how the bike is packed.  The airline even says that boxes of "durable cardboard" are permitted as long as they have "plastic foam or similar protective material" inside them.  Perhaps best of all, United doesn't seem to be excusing ham-fisted or crooked baggage handlers, saying only that the company isn't liable for "checked bicycles that are not packed as described."  

While United is making it easier for us to travel with our bicycles, it still doesn't allow e-bikes of any size or weight on its aircraft.  I suspect this prohibition has something to do with fire hazards.

The Waterfront, And Echoes Of Shell

Yesterday, I wrote about last weekend's varied rides.  Not only were the locales and sights different on each ride; so were the bikes I rode.

There was also variation within the rides, as there always is.  As an example, my Friday ride took me into Brooklyn and included two utterly different neighborhoods.

The metallic hues of New York Bay and its piers, docks, towers and bridges formed the vista of Red Hook

where one bridge rims the curvature of the earth, while another doesn't go far enough.

A few miles inland, a post-industrial streetscape stands a few blocks from where I grew up, at the edge of Borough Park, now one of Brooklyn's two major Hasidic neighborhoods.  

Change, however, can't seem to efface old identities and purposes:

Tell me that wasn't a Shell station.

I was tempted to check out the convenience store.  Perhaps I will if I take another ride out that way.  Whether or not they're different, I hope it doesn't sell sushi:  There should be a law against selling it any service station convenience store.  

But at least one law says it's OK for folks who'd shop in a place like that to eat sushi.  According to every interpretation of Halakhic law I've read, sushis made with vegetables or raw fish comply with Kosher dietary laws.  I don't imagine, though, anyone who likes sushi, whether or not they follow any religious edicts about food, would eat sushi from that place!

By the way, I had vegetable enchiladas after the ride.

Bet You Can't Ride Just One

Do you actually ride all of those bikes?

You've probably heard that question from the non-cyclists in your life.  I try to explain that even though each of my rides might look similar, they actually offer different kinds of rides, based on their geometry, frame material and components (especially wheels and tires).  

So, my answer is, yes--though, if I'm feeling a bit snarky, I might add, "but not at the same time.  I'm working on that."

Well, last weekend I did manage to ride three of my bikes in three days.  On Friday afternoon, I took Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, for a spin along the waterfronts of Queens and Brooklyn.

Saturday was the sort of gloriously sunny and brisk early fall-day that riding dreams are made of.  What better day to ride to Connecticut--on Dee-Lilah, my delightful Mercian Vincitore Special.

I'll say more about her accessories--the bags--in another post.   For now, I'll just say that I like them a lot, and while they're not the easiest to acquire, they're worth waiting for.  

And yesterday I took another ride along the waterfronts, mainly because I didn't want to turn it into an all-day (or even all-morning or all-afternoon) ride, as I'd promised to spend some time with someone who can't ride--and some quality time to Marlee.  I didn't take any photos of the bike I rode--Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic, but she's pretty much how you remember her if you've seen her in some earlier posts.

So, while I didn't ride all of my bikes, I think I varied my rides enough to feel justified in having, well, more than one bike!