Bike Parking For Business And Democracy

Warning:  I am going to complain.  And I will quote someone who shares my complaint.  So if you want a feel-good piece, skip this one--though, I promise, it's entirely related to you if you do practical cycling of any sort.

Yesterday was the deadline to file for an absentee ballot in New York.  Even so, there weren't many people at the Board of Elections and the woman at the desk, in an orange blazer that matched her lipstick, was friendly and helpful.  We even shared a chuckle when she asked, "Can I help you?" and I replied, "Well, if you know somoene between 45 and 65; race, religion and gender not important, who likes bicycling, the arts, reading and writing and cats--not necessarily in that order.  Or, a winning lottery number would be nice."

"Of course, I wouldn't blame you if you kept them for yourself."

I started to fill out my application when I saw that I was using a red pen.  I brought my application to her. "Oh,  no problem," she said.  I explained that, as someone who teaches, I associate red pens with correcting mistakes. "Don't worry, you didn't make any," she quipped.

The whole process didn't take more than five minutes.  And the ride there, which I stretched out with a circuitous route that took me around Forest and Flushing Meadow Parks and into a couple of quiet neighborhoods tourists never see, was pleasant even on what turned into a hot, humid day.  My complaint about yesterday involves my arriving at the Board of Elections.

It takes up the 11th floor of a building that stands on the opposite side of the Van Wyck Expressway from the Queens County Courthouse.  The Queens Boulevard block on which it stands is short and its sidewalk too narrow for the subway station and stands for three buses that stop there--or for the stores, coffee and sandwich shops and hair salon that occupy it.  So, it's like the stereotype of a Manhattan street you see in the movies or on TV where, the moment yo set foot on it, you're competing for space.

You have three choices for parking your bike:  three sign posts for the buses. So, if you lock up to any of them, you'll get dirty looks from the people who crowd around them, waiting for their ride.  And there's a good chance that you'll have to thread your way through those throngs of people waiting for their bus when you go to retrieve your bike.

When I can't find parking on the block where I'm running an errand, I look around the corner.  Unfortunately, the situation was even worse on the side streets:  There wasn't anything to which one could lock a bike.

While the are more bike parking "donuts" available throughout the city, they're found mainly in downtown Manhattan and the Brooklyn and Queens neighborhoods directly across the river.  They're scarce or non-existence further from what I call Linus-Land, where the young and affluent ride stylish-looking bikes to the kinds of work spaces or cafes one sees in design magazines--in other words, locales like the Queens Board of Elections.

The Board of Elections is on the 11th floor of this tower.

Of course, difficulties in parking a bike are not limited to Queens or any other part of New York City.  Sharon Bailey recounts similar experiences in and around Buffalo and Niagara Falls, where she lives.  She works remotely and rides for transportation as well as recreation.  There are few dedicated bike racks and while she can find railings at or near some of her regular destinations--or can wheel her bike up to a counter--she and her partner can't ride to some of their favorite al fresco dining spots.

Sharon Bailey

Some merchants on Queens Boulevard protested the bike lane, believing that it would take away parking and thus hurt business.  I don't know whether that's happened, but it seems that bike parking facilities would probably help.  They should think about cyclists like Ms. Bailey and her partner who would patronize their businesses.  Oh, and cities should consider folks like me who are riding their bikes to register to vote--or, of course, to vote.

Fuel For Thought

Yesterday, my brother told me he'd spent over $100 to fill his gas tank.

On one hand, I sympathise with him.  For one thing, he is my brother. (This is what age does:  I didn't say, "in spite of the fact that he's my brother." LOL)  For another, he lives in an area that's more car-centric than my hometown of New York.  Even if that weren't the case, he'd rely on his car because medical conditions constrain his physical activity, at least somewhat.

On the other hand, I remind myself that petrol prices are only now surpassing levels I saw when I first set foot (actually, bike tires) in Europe, back in 1980.  I could get into a rant about how playing nice with Saudi Arabia and giving tax breaks to oil companies wouldn't have continued to keep down the price at the pump forever, but it would be just that--a rant.  Others with far more expertise in national and global politics and energy markets can explain it better, or at least in more depth, than I ever could, even if I were to hijack the focus of this blog (really, it exists).

But what my brother told me is nonetheless relevant and can perhaps be best illustrated by something I've just come across.  In Electrek, Micah Toll points out that at the current average cost of gasoline in the US--around 5 dollars a gallon (around a euro a liter)--it would take only five fills of an F-150 truck's tank to buy an entry-level electric bike.  Or, it would take someone fueling an evil SUV six times, while a sober, sedate sedan would need to be topped off seven to eight times to buy a basic e-bike like Ancheers being sold on Amazon--and driven by many delivery workers here in New York.

Photo from Electrek

The old adage "your mileage may vary" applies in more ways than one. If you live here in New York or in California, where gasoline averages more than $6 a  gallon, it would take even fewer fills to equal the cost of an ebike.

Of course, a regular bicycle, especially a used one, can be had for less, even as we enter a third year of COVID pandemic-induced shortages.  I don't know whether the gas-bike equation I've described will persuade many people would persuade to give up driving, even for short local trips.  But it's certainly food, or fuel, for thought.  So is this:  Once gas is burned, it's gone.  A bike, however, can last for years, or even decades.

 

Can They Be Bred For This?

 During the pandemic, many people adopted dogs. I joked with a neighbor that our street should be renamed "Westminster" because of all of the folks promenading with their pooches.

Along with the increased numbers came canines in configurations and colors I'd never seen before.  Some are previously-obscure breeds that found popularity; others, it turns out are new cross-breeds.

I wonder whether some cyclist is trying to create a dog that can accompany a rider without being bundled into a basket or box.  

For that matter, is someone trying to breed a cat that can be brought on a bike ride, period?  No offense, Marlee!

Bobby Holley Performs--And Delivers --For Kids

 Bobby Holley is a musician (With a name like that, what else could he be?), entertainer and teacher in Battle Creek, Michigan.  Last year, he also took on another role: He became a kind of summertime Santa Claus, giving bicycles and helmets to kids in need.

Bobby Holley.  Photo by Trace Christinson, for the Battle Creek Enquirer.

He's reprising that role this year.  Today, he's distributing 125 bikes and helmets to needy children, in first through sixth grades, in Battle Creek and neighboring Marshall.  The recipients were chosen on the basis of  essays they wrote about on the prompt, "Why I Need A Bike."

The bicycles and helmets will be given out at Seelye Kia of Battle Creek.  The car dealership donated 33 of the bikes in an effort led by salesman Keith Wright.  Other businesses donated bikes, some of which were collected as Holley performed, solo or with his band.  

Apparently, he plans to continue this work.  If you miss his performances, you can donate to the drive at Church of Living Water, P.O. Box 2296, Battle Creek, Michigan 49016.

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How "Bicycle Friendly" Is It?

Yesterday, in "Windshield Bias," I described  the way bike issues are covered in the media and how it's affected public perceptions and policy.  I focused on how the stories are covered in Boston because the question of media coverage came to my attention via a Boston Streetsblog stories.

One thing I touched upon is the perception vs. reality of "bicycle friendliness."  I mentioned that it's a relative term. Sure, there are bike lanes and "safety" laws in some jurisdictions.  But, on the whole, the US is a motor-centric country and most policy and planning is done by people who don't cycle, walk or even take mass transportation.

Photo by Samantha Carey, for Boston magazine.

Recently, Boston was chosen as  America's eighth- most "bike friendly" city by Clever, a real-estate data company. Of course, such a study by a real estate data company is suspect.  Still, some will give it credibility.  But not everyone, according to a survey done by Boston.com.

Respondents echoed many of the observations and complaints I've made in this blog, including bike lanes that appear and end abruptly, snow that is plowed and debris dumped into them, and hostile drivers. On the other hand, other respondents echoed what you hear from bike-phobic folks everywhere:  "They're taking away our parking spaces!"  

What the survey confirms, for me, is something that one respondent expressed--and I've said, as recently as yesterday, on this blog:  "bicycle-friendly" is a relative term, at least in the United States of America.

Windshield Bias

Many of us envy countries like the Netherlands and Denmark, where people cycle even if they have other transportation or recreation options.  Here in the US, we have "bicycle friendly" (a relative term, to be sure) islands in a motor-centric sea.

One reason for the difference between the cycling environments has to do with policies. Europeans seem to understand what it takes to make bicycling safe and practical enough for people to choose it over driving or other forms of transportation, at least for short trips. In America, on the other hand the notion of "bicycle friendliness" seems to consist of building bicycle lanes--which, as I've said in other posts, are too often poorly-conceived, -constructed and -maintained--and passing "safety" regulations that bear no relation to the experience of riding.

A reason for so much misguided policy, I believe, has to do with media coverage.  I'm not familiar with what the Danes and Dutch print or broadcast, but I suspect that it's less auto-centric than what the French see and hear which, in turn, seems like tout l'Equipe compared to what we see on our pages and screens in America.

Now, some might say that I am in a "Big Apple Bubble."  It's true that on many issues--including, ahem, gun rights (Guns have rights?)--most New Yorkers, including yours truly, think differently from a state legislator in Mississippi or Texas.  But from what I've been seeing and hearing, New York City's news stories aren't the only ones infected with "windshield bias."

That apt phrase came to me from Christian MilNeil, a reporter on the Boston edition of Streetsblog.  In his article, he describes how the city's broadcast news programs and newspapers have framed the debates in neighboring Cambridge over bike lanes and pedestrianizing public spaces.  He noted something I've seen here in New York: the debates are too often framed as "bike lanes vs. parking spaces" or some other false equivalency, as in "we have more important issues, like gun violence and affordable housing."

I will not argue that gun violence and affordable housing are not urgent issues. But comparing issues is not useful.  Moreover, how does making a park car-free prevent the  construction of apartments and houses that people and families can afford on worker's wages?  Or passing a law that would keep people who aren't old enough to drink or who have mental health issues from acquiring military-style assault weapons?  

Speaking of which:  A car, especially an SUV, is as deadly a weapon as an AR-15 when an unbalanced person is at the wheel.  If policy-makers actually want to encourage more people to pedal or walk to work or school, they could take measures to prevent and more severely punish violence committed against cyclists and pedestrians in which the motor vehicle is the weapon.  

But I digress.  MilNeil's article shows that while coverage in Boston's print media has been somewhat more balanced, the city's television and other electronic media are heavily skewed toward organizations like "Save Mass Ave" who argue that building bike lanes will destroy their businesses.  Too often, he points out, stories show only outraged owners of the businesses in question or give only a few seconds to a cycling or pedestrian advocate.

(For the record, the Cambridge City Council has consistently favored policies to build bike lanes and ban cars from parks and other public areas.)

Massachusetts Avenue in Cambridge.  Photo from Boston Streetsblog.

I suspect that some of that distortion is inevitable.  For one thing, I'd guess that most reporters and editors aren't cyclists and probably don't often walk to get to wherever they're going.  But there is a more important built-in bias, I think:  As we've seen all too clearly during since Trump launched his first Presidential campaign, loud, angry voices are better than calm voices relating facts at "bringing the eyeballs to the screens" or keeping earbuds in ears. 

Could it be that we need advocates who foam at the mouth the way some folks do when their right to have as many and whatever kind of guns--or parking spaces--as they want. Or to use them whenever, whenever they want. 

For The "Chain Gang"

Yesterday, six years had passed since an intoxicated driver mowed down five members of the "Chain Gang," a group of experienced cyclists in the Kalamazoo, Michigan area.

To this day, it is one of the worst such incidents I've heard or read about.  Charles Pickett Jr., as it turned out, had a history of DUI charges before he plowed from behind into nine cyclists.  Paul Gobble, Jennifer Johnson, Paul Runnels and Sheila Jeske were injured and faced long periods of physical therapy and other kinds of recovery. On the other hand, Debbie Bradley, Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Tony Nelson, Larry Paulik and Suzanne Sippel did not survive the horror.

Photo above, l-to-r:  Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Suzanne Sippel, Debbie Bradley, Tony Nelson and Larry Paulik

I felt the need to re-memorialize them, however briefly, in light of yesterday's post.  Would Ms. Bradley, Fevig-Hughes and Sippel or Mr. Nelson and Paulik have been "asking for trouble," as per the pearl of wisdom of that sage Amanda Holden, if they'd been wearing cameras?  Or what if Mr. Gobble and Runnels and Ms. Johnson and Jeske had them?  

I can just see someone like her at a trial, telling other jurors the "Chain Gang's" choice to record their ride caused Charles Pickett to drive his van into their backs.  Would any other jurors go along with her "reasoning" that the riders brought the tragedy on themselves?

Fortunately,  the judge in the case saw the tragedy for what it is and meted out what was probably the longest sentence available under the circumstances:  40 to 75 years, with no possiblity of parole. (In case you're wondering:  Michigan hasn't had the death penalty since 1846.)  So, Pickett won't see the world outside of prison walls until he's 90 years old.

Of course, that sentence--or Pickett's expressions of remorse--will do nothing to bring back the five cyclists he killed or help the ones he injured.  But at least it's good to know that there was some measure of justice served on behalf of innocent victims, whatever else someone like Amanda Holden might want people to believe.

Yes, We Are Asking For Trouble--As She Defines It

Bicycling has heightened my sense of social justice, I believe.  Perhaps that has to do with the fact that cyclists come from literally all parts of society and ride for all sorts of reasons, whether out of necessity, for pleasure or fitness, or to make a statement.  

Likewise, being a transgender woman has, I believe, sensitized me to what some other opressed groups of people endure.  When I talk to Black people or read their accounts of being told that they're "whining" or "exaggerating" when they related the micro- and macro-aggressions they endure--or, worse, are told, openly or implicitly, that they were "looking for trouble" when they complained or "brought it on themselves" for not being, in essence, one of the "good ones"--I at least empathise with them.

In other words, I know what it's like to be told that you're to blame for whatever happens to you because you are what you are by people who would never be held to account for their indiscretions, let alone misdeeds.  To wit:   Someone can drive while texting, or gun through a red light, but the cyclist that driver hits or runs over will be blamed for the "accident."

And now we learn that on "Britain's Got Talent," English men and women have the opportunity to show that they have just as much talent as folks on the other side of the pond for clueless meanness or mean cluelessness.  Amanda Holden, who seems to be Albion's answer to one of the Kardashians (i.e., she has no talent, at least none I can discern, save for self-promotion) is a judge of BGT.  That gives her a platform for making all sorts of smug, ridiculous and simply toxic pronouncements.  

What pearl of wisdom did she impart to the world?  This:  Cyclists who wear cameras are "asking for trouble."

Let's follow the logic of her dictum:

Drivers who use dashcams are looking for trouble.

Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, non-heterosexual, non-cisgender people who record their job interviews or encounters with law enforcement or other authorities are "asking for trouble."

But people who drive intoxicated, distracted or too fast--or break some other law.  Naah, they're fine.  So are cops who lie or interviewers who tell qualified members of minority groups, "We don't feel you would be a good fit with the culture of this organization."

Yeah, we're all "asking for trouble" because to folks like Ms. Holden, people like us having the same rights as hers, and geting the same respect as human beings is "trouble," indeed!

 

Just a reminder why I wear mine @AmandaHolden @theJeremyVine. Go on, tell me it was me asking for it. 🤪 pic.twitter.com/mswxOBnbFN

— Wayne (@waynebago1) June 5, 2022

Happily Riding In A Moment Fugue

I have just had about as nice a cycling weekend as one can have without going to a country like the Netherlands or France where they actually see bikes as forms of transportation and recreational vehicles for people of all ages.

It rained during much of the past week. The good news is that I had a chance to catch up--or at least make progress--on a couple of bike- and writing-related projects. I'll say more about those later. As skies clared late Friday afternoon, while my religious faith did not return, it was enough to get me thinking that the cycling gods--some of whom I've written about in earlier posts-- were smiling on us.

We are in that "sweet spot" between spring and summer:  The air warm enough to cycle shorts and a light top, the water just warm enough for a swim or at least a dip (depending, of course, on your temperature sensitivity) and skies so clear--yes, even here in New York--that no matter how or where you ride, more roads, more fields, more water, stretch ahead of you--and the flowers that have budded and bloomed for the past few weeks pulse with color.

So I did a back-to-back of two old favorites:  Connecticut (the longer and hillier ride) on Saturday and Point Lookout yesterday.  While I am thinking, perhaps, of even longer rides in the coming weeks, I was content with what some might call the "Zen" way of riding:  I enjoyed the individual moments and what some might call The Moment of the rides writ large.

About the longer rides I'm considering:  I might ride from my apartment to some place from which I can't return on the same day.  I'd also like to go further away, to take one of the trips that were postponed by the pandemic.  While I had been planning to go to places I'd never been before, and I hope to take those trips, whether this year or some other times, I feel even more of an urge to see people I haven't seen in a while and other people I've "met" through this blog and other online means but have never seen in person.

But the past weekend's cycling is as fine as any I've experienced in a while.  More like it would make me happy.

A Tell-Tale Sign

When I first became a dedicated cyclist, as a teenager in the mid-1970s, I knew some men who wouldn't ride because they didn't want to shave their legs.

I would explain that racers did it because, they believed, it gave them an aerodynamic advantage.  Whether or not there is such a benefit, there was another reason for racers to depilate their limbs:  It made cleaning and dressing wounds easier.  But even when I had pretensions to racing, I never believed that it was necessary to shave if one simply wanted to ride a bike.

My body hair has always been so light and fine, and grown so slowly, that almost nobody can tell whether or not I've shaved.  Today I can go for months without putting a blade to my calves and shins:  From what my doctor has told me and what I've heard and read in other places, my hormones and surgery have slowed the growth, which was always slow anyway.

But if you see someone with thickets of coarse hair on his limbs, there is at least one thing you can assume about him:

To Keep Cars Out Of Bike Lanes

One reason why I, and other New York City cyclists, don't use bike lanes is that motorists too often use them as passing or parking lanes.  

One of the most dangerous situations I encounter is only a block from my apartment.  The Crescent Street bike lane, which runs right in front of my door, is a two-way path separated from the one-way street by bollards (flexible posts).  If I am pedaling north, the direction opposite the traffic, and a vehicle--usually a taxi or Uber vehicle--pulls into the lane to drop off or pick up somebody at the Mount Sinai Hospital entrance--there is no place to go except into the traffic lane because, as often as not, the sidewalk is also blocked.

Such scenarios are repeated  in bike lanes all over the city, often by drivers who have less legitimate reasons for pulling into the lane than the ones who stop at Mount Sinai.  

Brad Hoylman. Check out his tie! (WireImage)

Thankfully, two New York State legislators--who, not surprisingly, are cyclists--have taken note of this problem.  They are proposing that cameras of the type used to catch speeders and red light-runners to detect scofflaw drivers in bike lanes.  Under their proposal, 50 locations--mainly in physically-separated bike lanes like the one on my street--would be the first to receive the cameras.   "We think there needs to be enforcement," said Brad Hoylman a State Senator from Manhattan and one of the sponsors of the proposal. 

Zohran Mandani (Photo by Brigitte Stelzer)

The proposal's other co-sponsor, Zohran Mandani, a State Assemblyman from Brooklyn, admits that the proposal won't be a "silver bullet" to keep the lanes clear.  He and Holyman explained, however, that knowing the cameras are in use could be a deterrent, as they are for drivers who might otherwise break other traffic laws.  So would the prospect of a $50 fine.

To be implemented as a policy, the proposal needs the approval of the New York City Department of Transportation, which has indicated that it would support such legislation.

When Will World Bicycle Day Be For Everyone Who Cycles?

 Today is World Bicycle Day.

The United Nations designated this "holiday" was in 2018.  Whether it has contributed to the growth in cycling is debatable.  But I won't argue with having such a day.

Interestingly, it's also National Free Donut Day.  We have to get our carbs one way or another, right?

Anyway, while one sees bike lanes winding through urban neighborhoods and bike-share programs and bikes, parts and accessories have been in short supply, the attention to such things has focused on the ways they affect young, upwardly mobile people in trendy urban neighborhoods--where, to be fair, the growth in the number of cyclists seems to be greatest.

An article in today's Forbes magazine illustrates, if unintentionally, a possible cause and effect of the phenomena I've mentioned.  In it, Jeffrey Steele lists, as his title says, "buildings supporting pedal power."  The office and residential towers he mentions feature dedicated bicycle parking rooms, some with security cameras and other amenities.  Some of those buildings also include lockers where cyclists can stow their bike-related stuff.  The commercial buildings he mentions also have washrooms or even showers and changing rooms and, in one instance, a cafe.

The bike room at 45 Main Street in DUMBO, Brooklyn (Photo from Two Trees Management)

It all sounds really good.   I know this city well enough, however, to see that all of those buildings are places where the residents or workers are the sort of young and affluent (or, at least, upwardly mobile) folks I mentioned at the beginning of this post.  Now, I don't have anything against young afflueint people--OK, I get a bit envious of people making more in their first job out of college than I've ever made (I shouldn't have graduated into a recession with a liberal arts degree, right?). My issue is this:  Bicycling and cyclists will never get the respect, or at least escape the scorn and hostility, of greater society until, well, all segments of greater society start cycling for transportation and recreation.  Also, I think cycling won't become a "people's choice" in the United States or other nations that don't have the cycling culture of some European countries until people who ride to low-wage jobs on handed-down, salvaged or bought-for-cheap bikes are given the same attention and respect as the Instagram images one sees rolling down bike lanes in Williamsburg or other havens of the young, rich and hip.

So, I hope that, if nothing else, World Bicycle Day becomes a way to give all cyclists--rich, poor, male, female, genderqueer and ahem, white, black, brown, yellow, red or whatever color--the respect we deserve for getting to where we want and need to go in a socially and environmentally conscious--and fun!--way.

Oh, and  remember that you can "fuel" your ride for free at your nearest Dunkin' Donuts, Krispy Kreme or Tim Horton’s!

How Is It Aging?

Aged 12 years.

When I saw that phrase--on a bottle of Scotch whiskey--I wasn't 12 years old.  I couldn't quite fathom that grown-ups drank something older than I was.

Now I am at an age when I don't think of something as having occurred 12 years ago.  Now I'm more likely to round it up or down to 15 or ten years.  Someone, I forget whom, told me that it happens when "you get to a certain age":  According to that person, you start to see your life, and the world, "in five- or ten-year increments."

There are, of course, some things I can pinpoint in time.  One of them is the subject of today's post.  

Exactly twelve years ago today, this blog was born. At least, that is the day on which I wrote and published my first post.  For two years before that, I'd been writing another blog, Transwoman Times, which I continued for a few years into the life of this blog and, in a way, this blog is an extension, continuation or simply a relative--I'm still not sure of which--of that one.

Now, some might say that I've reached an age when I can no longer say I'm in "mid-life."  To them, I'll repeast something I've said in this blog, and elsewehere:  If I don't know how long I'm going to live, I can't know whether or not I'm in the middle of my life.  Given the typical and even the longest lifespans of humans, I can't plausibly say I'm at the beginning or even early in my life.  But as long as I don't know where I end, I'm in the middle--just as I can't know whether a ride I take will be the last, or one of the last--or even whether it's the last time I'll take a particular ride, such as the one to Greenwich or Point Lookout.

Whether you've been reading this blog from its beginning, or found it yesterday, I thank you for taking the time to read it.  And however long this blog--and I--last, I hope you're with me for the journey.  We're only in the middle of it, after all!

He Didn't Have A Phantom Condition. He Was Assaulted.

When I wrote for newspapers, a few things frustrated me.  Among them were politicians and other officials who'd talk around my questions.  Another was the constraints one editor put on me and other writers.  So, as I complained to another writer, "I can write about cops and robbers but I can't write about the real crimes."

But nothing twisted my panties or chamois bike short liners (remember those?) more than headline writers.  They'd come up with phrasings that, sometimes said something different from, or even the exact opposite of, what my article described.  Or sometimes what they wrote things that someone, especially if they came from a different generation, culture or other life experience might hear differently from what was intended.

I saw an example of this today:  "Boy Beaten and Bruised in Bicycle Face Attack at LI School Parking Lot:  Cops."  

Now, perhaps I'm a bit of a geek, at least in this sense:  I can say, without boasting, that I probably know more about the history of bicycles and bicycling than anyone who's not a specialist in that field.  So when I saw "Bicycle Face," I immediately thought of the rationale conservatives during the 1885-1905 Bike Boom gave for keeping women off bicycles.  They believed that the rigors of being out in public, in rain and wind and sun, and of simply being on a bicycle, twisted their pretty little heads into what they called "Bicycle Face."

Now, of course, with all due respect to Long Island law enforcement officials, I doubt that their training includes ways of recognizing Bicycle Face--or that most of them have even heard of the term, even if they are cyclists.  And I think it's even less likely that some random thug (the victim is a 13-year-old boy; the perp is believed to be a good bit older and six feet tall) would attack someone for having "Bicycle Face," though, perhaps I can imagine using the phrase as a schoolyard taunt.

Now, I don't mean to make light of a boy being bashed in the face with a bicycle.  No one should have to endure that, and it upsets me that something that can be such a force for good and a source of so much pleasure can be used to commit violence against another living being.  My heart goes out to that boy and his loved ones.

But, as a writer, I also abhor crimes against journalism and the English language.  A much more accurate--and, if I do say so myself, snappier--headline might've been: LI Man Slams Bike Against Boy's Face.

The Unofficial Beginning

 Here in the US, the Memorial Day weekend is often seen as the “unofficial beginning of summer.” The weather, and my rides, certainly lived up to that billing.

First, as an aside, I’ll tell you how the holiday came to be the “unofficial beginning of summer.  One interesting fact about Memorial Day is that the date on which it’s observed has nothing to do with any battle, the birth of any historic figure or any other historical or mythical event.  When the holiday was first designated, it was called Decoration Day (when I was a child, some people still referred to it that way) because people—some of them newly-freed slaves—decorated the graves of Union soldiers who died fighting the Civil War.  In those days, there wasn’t a flowers.com or even very many florists.  So, people had to pick flowers from their gardens or the woods.  And, as the holiday was commemorated only in the northern US, late May was chosen because that’s when flowers are in full bloom in this part of the world.

Anyway, about my rides: They are both trips I've taken many times before. On Saturday, I pedaled up to Greenwich, Connecticut via the Pelham Bay Park trail and back roads and streets in Mamaroneck, Rye and Greenwich.  The weather was all but perfect:  warm, but not too, with a breeze that seemed to ripple the wisps of clouds in the blue, sunny sky. Yesterday, I rode to Point Lookout on a warmer day, though the temperature dropped a good bit after I crossed the Veterans' Memorial Bridge (how appropriate!) to the Rockaways.

I felt great after both rides. That, to me, is another sign that summer is, if not here, at least close:  I am in better shape.  But, apart from the roads and views, the rides offered one interesting contrast.  My ride to Connecticut reminded me of the ones I took in the early days of the pandemic:  I saw hardly a car or SUV, let alone a truck, along the way.  I glanced out to the main roads and didn't see much more traffic, and when I passed over the highways (the Cross Bronx Expressway, Hutchinson River Parkway and New York State Thruway), I saw even less traffic than I normally see on a Sunday morning or afternoon.  On the other hand, not surprisingly, I saw a lot of vehicular traffic on the roads leading to the beaches and foot traffic along the boardwalks and pedestrian paths.

Today is, in more ways than one, the day after--the  beginning of summer, for one thing.

A Ride To Remember Them

Today is Memorial Day in the United States.

To some, things are returning to "normal" because parades, and other gatherings large and small--including retail store promotions-- will be held in person for the first time in three years.

For others, though, things will never be "normal," whatever that meant, again. Or, for them, there is a new definition of "normal."

Such people include the loved ones of those who died as a result of COVID--or this nation's nonstop wars.  Such folks include Chris Kolenda, a retired U.S. Army Colonel.  

Today, he will take a 100-mile Memorial Day Honor Ride.  It will be followed by a barbeque and auction event at the Milwaukee County War Memorial Center.  He plans to use the ride, barbecue and auction to raise awareness for another, longer, ride he plans to start in late September.

That will take him across half of the nation to Arlington National Cemetery,  just outside Washington, DC.  That destination is not surprising, but, unless you know the motivation for his ride, its starting point is.  

He's using his planned trip to raise money for the Saber Six Foundation, which he created to help the families and descendants of the unit he commanded in Afghanistan.  The Foundation also supports a Rotary Club scholarship endowment for disadvantaged youths who aspire to public service.

During one particularly horrific tour in 2007, the West Point graduate lost six of the men under his command.  One of them, Private First Class Chris Pfeiffer, hailed from Spalding, Nebraska--the starting point of Kolenda's planned tour.

From there, his route will take him to the gravesites of the five other soldiers who lost their lives:

    Carroll, Iowa--Sergeant Adrian Hike 

    Ellwood, Illinois--Specialist Jacob Lowell

    Hall, Indiana--Staff Sergeant Ryan Fritsche

    Minersville, Pennsylvania--Captain David Boris

    Arlington National Cemetery--Major Tom Bostick.

"They all died following my orders, doing things I asked them to do, being in a place I asked them to be," Kolenda said.  "They deserve to have their stories told and they deserve to have their sacrifices remembered."

The first sentence of his statement should be on the gravestone of anyone who has led soldiers, sailors or other uniformed fighters who died under his or her command.  Alter it slightly--I died following orders, doing what I was asked to do in a place where I was asked to be--and you have an epitaph for anyone who's died in battle.

Photos of Chris Kolenda by Jovanny Hernandez, for the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel.

Cycling Is Better Than....

 So-- Why does a girl ride?

Specifically, why does this girl (yours truly) ride?

He Rides To Work. Why Don't More Cyclists Follow Him?

We've all heard some variant of the question, "If a tree falls in a forest and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound?"

Here is anothe variation:  If a bicycle valet service opens in a city and nobody hears about it....

How do you finish that question?  All right, it won't quite follow the rhetorical pattern of the "tree falls in a forest" query.  But it's pertinent nontheless.

Here goes, "Will anybody use it?"

That is what the folks from the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition and The Chase Center might be asking themselves. From the moment the venue--which hosts Golden State Warriors games, among other events--a bicycle valet parking service has been available.  

Now, the Chase Center isn't the only such venue or institution to offer such a service.  The valets aren't even the only ones who will take your helmet with your bike.  They might not even be the only such service not to require an admission ticket to the venue in order to use it, like the services I've used in places like the Metropolitan Museum.  

What makes the Chase Center's bicycle valet service unique, to this date, is that it was designed as part of the Center when it was built.   Yes, there is an entrance built into the spherical structure of the arena specifically for the designated bicycle valet area.  

Better yet, the service can park as many bicycles--300--as many venues can park cars in their garages or lots.

In such a bicycle-conscious city as San Francisco, and in a densely-trafficked neighborhood like the one where the Center is located, one might expect a bicycle valet service to be a "build it and they will come" facility and service.  Sadly, though, such is not the case.  According to an investigation by the SF Gate, usage has topped out at around 100 bikes per Warriors game or other event.

While neither the SF Gate report nor team nor venue officials offered an explanation as to why the service is under-used, I have to wonder how many people know it's available.  Whatever the reason, I hope that the folks who run the Center don't decide to turn the space into, oh, I don't know, another gift shop.

There's nothing like a celebrity endorsement to boost a product or service's popularity. So, perhaps, this video or Warriors star Klay Thompson riding his bike to work--a playoff game--might entice more cyclists to park at Chase Center:

One Person's Junk Is Another Person's Jump

I've taken more than a few rides that included the Concrete Plant Park.  I love that what could have been a remnant--a ruin, really--of the industrial past could be turned into a visually interesting recreational space.

The Concrete Plant Park could have become a dump, or worse. Such a fate has befallen too many other sites of closed factories and schools or abandoned residential and office buildings.  Instead, it's a place where folks like me ride, run or walk, or take their kids just to get them out of their crowded apartments.

Now I've heard of something that's perhaps just as innovative:  Using stuff that's been dumped to make a bike park.  That's what some folks in Colorado have done.  The result, aptly named Junk Yard Bike Park, is set to open on Monday, Memorial Day, thanks to Rocky Mountain Outdoor Center in Colorado Springs, near the entrance to Browns Canyon National Monument.  

The idea for the park came to RMOC owner Brandon Slate not long after he and his business partner, Ryan Coulter, after they inherited the Arkansas River site in 2016.  They started riding their mountain bikes among--and, in some cases, on--the junk when they realized the potential for creating "a bike park that will not only fill a local need but also draw people to RMOC to take advantage of the outpost's other features, such as its microbrewery, food truck and riverside setting."  

The site, they say, will include bike lines for cyclists of various skill levels,  a pump track and access to singletrack with mellow downhill sections and more technical drops.

Oh, and if you really want to have fun, you can drop from an old school bus or jump over a rusted classic car.  You can't do that in Concrete Plant Park, or any other salvaged post-industrial site I know of.

Who--Or What--Is To Blame?

Be forewarned:  Part of today's post will be a continuation of yesterday's rant, in which I lamented the terror and seeming inevitability of the mass shootings in a Texas school and Buffalo supermarket.

Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that politicians and media pundits are blaming everything but guns.  I'm not talking about the "decay of moral values" or other talking points of the political and religious right.  Instead, I'm talking about flat-out lies spread by folks whose careers and reputations never could withstand the truth.

Paul Gosar, the Republican Congressional Representative from Arizona, is an example of who I mean. I must say, he has managed to concoct a non-reality not even the strongest drugs could induce and twist logic and reason in ways a pretzel-maker would envy.

To wit:  He tweeted that the shooter--18-year-old Salvador Ramos, born and raised in Texas--was a "transsexual leftist illegal alien."  Gosar's source for that bit of intelligence?  A social network called 4Chan, to which folks of his ilk are drawn like flies to, well, the stuff flies are drawn to.  That's bad enough, but I would really like to know where he got his thinking skills.  He followed up his out-and-out falsehood with this pearl of wisdom:  "Sandy Hook proved the need to enhance K-12 security."  OK. That's not too debatable. But then he made a leap into the (il)logical abyss:  "Congress armed Ukraine instead."

Now, as much as I sympathise with the people of Ukraine, I wonder about Congressional members' motives in voting to send even more weapons than President Biden demanded.  But talk about a false equivalency!  I mean, how can he link sending help to Ukraine with school safety, or a school shooting that happened nearly a decade ago?

Compounding the problem is that other voices in the media will amplify such nonsense--or other verbal bilge-- in the same way he was a loudspeaker for Trump's beloved "low-information voters."  Fox News, in following with a hallowed tradition, shifted the blame to parents.  

I have to hand it to the folks at Faux, I mean Fox:  They accomplished something I didn't think possible.  The excerable (even by their standards) Laura Ingraham interviewed someone even more vile than herself:  Andrew Pollack.  That I can unfavorably compare a man who lost his daughter in the Parkland shooting to a Fox host is really saying something. He, who has previously argued "guns didn't kill my daughter, Democratic principles did," in reference to the Texas shooting, declared, "It's the parents."

How he came to that conclusion took a turn of logic that rivals what brought Gosar to his blaming the shooting on helping Ukraine.  "It's your responsibility where you're sending your children to school," he explained.  "You need to check where your kids go to school."  He suggested that parents should take their kids "out of public school" and put them in "a private school, because a lot of these private schools, they take security way more serious."

Where to begin with that assessment?  Well, for one thing, private schools are not an option for most families. Most kids go to whatever public school is zoned for wherever they live and they (or, more precisely, their parents) have little or no choice in the matter.  Also, even if private school is an option, it might not meet some kids' needs.  And, finally, what does he mean by "security?"  Metal detectors?  Armed teachers?

Oh, and there are the usual diatribes about education and mental health treatment.  I would agree:  If someone were to ask me for an example of an oxymoron, I might say, "American mental health care system."  But that fixing that won't stop mass gun violence all by itself any more than better school security or any other action could.

Here's what I wonder: How the fuck did someone who couldn't even drink beer legally get his hands on a military-grade assault weapon?  Would Ingraham ask such a question?  Could--or would--Pollack or Gosar answer it?

So why am I taking up another post on a cycling blog with a discussion of a school shooting and its aftermath?  Well, what Gosar and his ilk do in these situation--blame everything but guns--reminds me of the ways law enforcement and some members of the public react, too often, when a driver maims or kills a cyclist.  Never mind that he or she was driving at double the speed limit, was distracted by a mobile device or impaired by drugs, alcohol or some other substance--or was simply driving agressively or carelessly.  The cyclist, especially if he or she is killed, is blamed.

 

Riding Without Running Away

 The other day, I enjoyed a nearly perfect ride to Connecticut and back.  An overnight rain broke the weekend’s heat wave and I pedaled, with a brisk wind against my face on my way up and at my back on the ride back, under a clear sky accented by light cirrus brushstrokes.

When I’m enjoying such a trip, such a day, I never realize how lucky I am and, however ephemeral that privilege may be, it’s still more than so many other people have —and how much more orderly yet joyful my world can be—even if only for a few hours—than what lies not far beyond.

Yesterday I learned, from my friend Lillian—who is recovering from a back injury and wants to ride with me again—that a mutual friend, Glenda, had passed away around four in the morning.  That wasn’t much of a surprise, as her lung cancer was overtaking her doctors ‘ ability to treat it and her body’s ability to resist.  

She also told me that Edwin, for whom we sometimes ran errands, did other things beyond his computer skills and simply provided company, passed on Thursday.  That, of course, solved the mystery of why we hadn’t heard from him though, of course, that was neither a relief nor a consolation.

Oh, and there was another mass shooting in a school. The cynic in me is not surprised:  In a country whose mantra is, “Children are the future,” we haven’t made it more difficult to get assault weapons or easier to get mental health care, educational services or stable housing and employment since, in an eerily similar incident almost a decade ago, 28 kids and two teachers were murdered in a Connecticut school. Or since, more than a decade before that, a dozen students and two teachers were slaughtered in a Colorado high school.  Or after any number of attacks during those years.

That I can say “any number” of such incidents is a sad commentary on the situation in this country.  So is the supermarket shooting in Buffalo a week and a half ago. Again, my cynicism kicks in:  That horror doesn’t surprise me because if nothing changed after white kids were gunned down, I’m anticipating even less after a tragedy in which the victims were Black and, mostly, elderly.

So why am I invoking the Howard Cosell rule and ranting about such things on my cycling blog?  Well, it seems almost frivolous to talk about anything else.  For another, I wanted to express my understanding of my good fortune, though I am trying to avoid a lapse into guilt. Finally, though, I trust that you, dear readers, and cyclists in general, have a good sense of justice.  

Comments Accidentally Deleted

Hello, everyone!

Sometimes, in the course of Spring Cleaning, I unintentionally toss out the wheat with the chaff, so to speak.

So it went when I cleared out some “spam” comments.  In the process, I accidentally deleted a bunch of good comments. 

If yours was one of them, I apologize.  Mea culpa. (That’s Latin for “My bad!”)

Love Triangle Ends In Death For Gravel Racing Star

 The world of professional cycling has seen its share of tragedies and scandals.  Until recently, they didn't seem to involve gravel racing.  Perhaps the sport hasn't been around long enough (though, I think, people were gravel riding and gravel racing long before the sport got its name or bikes were built specially for it) to attract bad actors.  Or it may just have to do with the fact that most gravel racers are young and aren't steeped in the "this is how it's done" or "everybody does it" mentality that seems to affect people, not only in the more established areas of bike racing, but in any other long-standing institution.

But now gravel racing seems to have been thrown into its first scandal--and tragedy. And it involves someone named Armstrong who lives in Austin, Texas.

No, I'm not talking about Lance.  Nor am I referring to anything that involves illicit substances.  Rather, I am about to relate a story that involves something we don't often hear about in professional cycling:  a love triangle.  And the Armstrong in question is named Kaitlin and, to my knowledge, not related to Lance.

She lived with alleycat rider-turned-gravel racer Colin Strickland.  Both are in their mid-30s.  Their relationship took a "hiatus" for a couple of months last fall.  During that time, according to reports, he dated Anna Moriah "Mo" Wilson, ten years his junior and considered one of the up-and-coming stars of the gravel racing circuit.  After Armstrong and Strickland reconciled, he continued to stay in touch with Wilson, which did not make Armstrong happy, to say the least.

Wilson was scheduled to race in the capital city of the Lone Star State on the 11th of this month.  She arriveed the day before and stayed with a friend.  Someone called police after hearing shots in the apartment, where Wilson was found, fatally shot.  The only item missing from the apartment was her bicycle. And, according to an anonymous source, Armstrong talked about killing Wilson . 

Anna Moriah "Mo" Wilson, from Dartmouth College Athletics

The day after Wilson's body was found, Armstrong was brought into the police station for questioning, where a detective said things "don't look good" for her.  Not long afterward, Armstrong deleted her social media accounts and simply vanished.  Now local police and the U.S. Marshals are following leads in the hope of finding her.

Say what you will about Strickland seeing Wilson. I will, however, criticize him for this:  Last December and January, he bought two guns, a Springfield Armory and a Sig Sauer, and gave the Sig Sauer to Armstrong.  Now, I'm not keen on firearms, but I understand that Texas has a different culture and set of laws about them than what we have in New York.  Still, I have to wonder what he was thinking.  Why a gun for each of them?

Those guns were recovered when police searched their apartment. On the 17th, police tested the Sig Sauer and compared the shell casings to ones found near Wilson's body.  

The detective is right in more ways than one:  things don't "look good" for Kristin Armstrong.  And the world of gravel racing is without one of its brightest lights in Anna Moriah Wilson.