Our Flag--Or Their Banner?

On Sunday, the day before "the 4th" (American Independence Day), I rode La-Vande, my Mercian King of Mercia, to Point Lookout.  I have taken that ride many times, on every one of my current bikes and several I've owned previously.  Although the weather was just a bit warmer than I like, the skies were clear and bright and the temperature dropped as I approached the water.  Best of all, I was pedaling into the wind, blowing from the ocean and bay, most of my way out. That meant, of course, that I rode with the wind at my back for most of the way back.

Still, I couldn't help but to notice something that distrubed me.  Perhaps the holiday, and its associations sensitized me to it.  A ride I took the other day--the day after the Fourth--confirmed my observation.

Holidays like the Fourth, Memorial and Veterans' Day and, of course, Flag Day, bring a lot of Stars and Stripes out of closets, attics, trunks and storage lockers.  People hang flags in their windows and on their doors and fly them from awnings and poles.  I couldn't help but to feel, however, that the way those flags were displayed was more ostentatious and aggressive than usual.  

My Point Lookout ride takes me through strongholds of Trump-mania:  Broad Channel, a Jamaica Bay island between Rockaways to the "mainland" of Queens, and the Long Island South Shore communities of Long Beach, Lido Beach and Point Lookout itself.  Just past the Long Beach boardwalk, one house flew a flag so wide that it unfurled over the sidewalk in front of it:  Anyone walking by could have been brushed by it which, to some, would have been offense--by the person brushed, mind you--against the flag and therefore the nation. I noticed many other flag displays that were disruptive or simply more in-your-face than ones I saw in years past.

But the incident that showed me that the flag has gone from being an expression of patriotism or simply gratitude to one of agression and hostility, or even a threat, came the other day, as I approached an intersection in Eastchester, a Westchester county town on Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic. Something that looked like a bloated pickup truck--it was nearly as wide as the two eastbound road lanes--pulled up behind me, veering into the shoulder where I was riding.  From poles driven like stakes into each corner of the rear flatbed, American flags fluttered.  Another banner, about the size of those four flags combined, visually blared, as loudly and ominously as the revved-up engine (which seemed to lack a muffler), its message:  Let's Go Brandon.  That, of course is a code for what the driver bellowed at me:  "Fuck Joe Biden."

I pretended to ignore him.  I guess I'm not a very good actor:  I noticed him, the truck, the flags--it was impossible not to.  Eyeing my bike, he growled, "If you hate this country, leave it." 

"I am here because you have the right to say that.  And I have the right to disagree with you.  Members of my family fought for both."

He eyed my bike some more.  "At least it's a 'Merican' bike.  To be fair, he's not the first person to read "Mercian" as "American" or "Murrikan."

"Have a good day, sir."

With a perpexled look, he motored away.  I hadn't felt such relief in a long time.

In 1983, people--including some friends and family members--begged, cajoled and even tried to strong-arm me into not moving back to New York.  In those days, the news, movies, television and other media depicted my city as a lawless hellhole where people were robbed, raped, stabbed or shot.  The implication, of course, was that the victims were like me--a mild-mannered white person (I was still living as male) and the perpetrators were drug-addled black and brown thugs.  

The irony is that some of the people who were sure I'd be dead within a year of moving to New York--and other people who think like them--voted for Donald Trump, a hero to the fellow who was using his truck--and the flag--to intimidate me.

Will It Make Helmet Wearing More Palatable?

In Colson Whitehead's The Nickel Boys, one of the title characters, Turner, is taken in by Mavis and Ishmael, an aunt and uncle after his father abandons the family and his mother's alcoholism renders her incapable of caring for him.  One day, he got between the Mavis and Ishmael when they fought.  Ishmael then took him to an ice cream parlour and told the attendant, "Bring this young man the biggest sundae you got."  To Turner, "every bite felt like a sock in the mouth." Later experiences--including time in "The Nickel Academy," a segregated juvenile "reform school" in Florida--reinforced his belief that "adults are always trying to buy off children to make them forget their bad actions" and leads him to a lifelong hatred of ice cream.

So it will be interesting to see what comes of what a fire department in upstate New York is doing.

Let's face it:  Most people don't like wearing helmets.  I, like other cyclists, wear one because I know the benefits firsthand:  When I crashed two years ago, the doctor told me that it would have been much worse if I hadn't been wearing mine.  In another incident years earlier, I flipped over and landed in a way that broke the helmet in half but left me just barely scratched.

And when a kid wears a helmet, it's almost always because a parent or some other adult made them wear it. 

In Brownville, the firefighters have teamed up with Lickety Split, a local ice cream shop, to promote safety.   As LS owner Eric Symonds explained, when a kids is"caught" by a firefighter or Symonds wearing a helmet, they'll get a certificate for a free kiddie ice cream.

When I read about it, I couldn't help but to think about Turner. After all, the ice cream--which most kids who aren't Turner love--is being offered as a reward for something they wouldn't normally do on their own.  Also, I wondered how they might feel about the promotion, knowing what prompted it:  the death of  a local boy whose bike hit truck towing a trailer.  

That said, I applaud Symond's and the fire department's effort, which will begin today and give out 100 certificates.

COVID Whiplash And Saris

Depending on whom you believe, the COVID pandemic bike boom is a.) still in full swing, b.) at a plateau or c.) on its way down.

On a purely anecdotal basis, I'd choose b.  I think I'm seeing about the same number of cyclists as I saw a year ago, which is more than what I saw in pre-pandemic times.  But there's even more car traffic, with bigger cars.  My guess is that people didn't ride as an alternative to driving.  Rather, they pedaled to work because bus or train service was reduced or curtailed, or they just didn't want to ride buses or trains as the virus overwhelmed the city.  Or they rode recreationally--and some will continue to do so--because it was a way to get outside and engage in a fun and healthy activity that still allowed them to keep the mandated social distance.

On the other hand, there is a part of the bike industry that's been in decline from its pandemic peak: excercise bikes and trainers.  For a time, they were all but impossible to find--and expensive--when gyms were shut down or, in some places, people were locked down.  

Some suppliers suffered the fate of some, mostly smaller, bike shops:  They experienced a surge in business that depleted their inventories.  But, at the same time they ran out of parts and bikes, supply chains were disrupted because of everything from factory shutdowns in China to truck drivers and dock workers who quit their jobs or got too sick to work.

Then there is the case of Saris.  You probably know about them for their indoor trainers and bike racks.  But they also make "bicycle infrastructure products" like parking racks and lane barriers.  The latter part of their business would seem to be holding steady as more cities and towns build lanes and parking systems.  On the other hand, sales of indoor trainers have fallen off a cliff as gyms have reopened and people who were under "hard" lockdowns could ride outdoors again.  

One of Saris' problems, though, is the opposite of the bike shops I mentioned: They had plenty of inventory.  In fact, they had just as many trainers to sell this year as they had last year and the year before.  

They have experienced what company founder Chris Fortune (great name for someone in business) calls "COVID whiplash."  It's affected other companies like Peloton, Wahoo and Zwift, who also make trainers.  They, too, suddenly had excess inventory as people returned to their gyms or to outdoor riding.  

As a result, Saris is reorganizing its debts through the circuit court system in Wisconsin, where the company is based.  It’s been reported that Fortune wants to sell the company but hopes to do it in a way that won’t affect his employees’ jobs.

Wheels--And Shoes--For The Parade

Today, the 4th of July, is Independence Day in the USA.

I've been following the hearings of the committee investigating the Capitol riot of 6 January 2021.  While I admire the courage of some who have testified--like Cassidy Hutchinson and the Georgia poll workers--I still wonder how long this country--or to be more accurate, its people--will be free from those who tried to take it from us.  The really scary thing is that they weren't foreign invaders. 

On a lighter note, lots of things will be festooned with flags, or at least decorated with its colors.  They include, of course, bicycles, some of which will roll amidst parades.

When I saw this, 

                      Image from San Francisco Bike Party

I wondered:  Were the shoes decorated to go with the bike, or vice versa?

Oh, and are those shoes compatible with cleats?

P.S. Today is my birthday. I won't tell you my age. Let's just say that I'm younger than this country.

How Not To Hydrate

I've been following the Select Committee Hearings on the riot of 6 January 2021.  Some who testified--like Cassidy Hutchinson-- gave me hope that some people will do the right thing.  Other testimony--like that of the Georgia election workers who still live in fear because they wouldn't help to overturn the election results-- was as heartbreaking as it was infuriating.  

But no matter how much I hear or read, there are still some things I will never understand.  To wit:  Some people still insist the election was "stolen," despite any lack of corroborating evidence.  And they still take everything the Former President says as gospel, even though he publicly told more than 30,000 documentable lies (about 21 a day) during his time in office. 

I can come up with only one explanation:

The past few days have brought a heat wave to this part of the world.  Somehow, though, I don't think I'd hydrate with the stuff in the image--even if my political persuasions were more in line with the folks who imbibe it.

Gravel Racing Star's Killer Caught In Costa Rica

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the murder of up-and-coming gravel racing star Anna Mariah "Mo" Wilson.  On Wednesday, her suspected killer, Kaitlin Marie Armstrong, was arrested in Costa Rica.

Armstrong had been dating road-turned-gravel racer Colin Strickland for some time.  The  35-year-old Strickland and 34-year-old Armstrong reportedly took a "hiatus" from their relationship for a couple of months.  During that time, Strickland started dating Wilson, a decade his junior.

Anna Moriah "Mo" Wilson

On the 11th of May, Strickland and Wilson went to the Deep Eddy pool and then had dinner at a nearby restaurant.  That night, he dropped off Wilson at a friend's house in Austin, Texas but didn't accompany her inside.  Later that night, she was found unconscious and bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. 

An anonymous tipster told police that Armstrong, who'd purchsed two 9 millimeter handguns, had talked about killing Wilson.  And, a vehicle that looked like her Jeep Cherokee was seen at the house around the time of the shooting.  Two days later, Armstrong sold her Cherokee at a Car Max location before taking a flight to Houston, then to New York.  She was spotted at Newark-Liberty Airport,  but no outbound flights were booked in her name.  So, her whereabouts remained a mystery until she was tracked in Costa Rica.

I don't mean to make light of a senseless killing.  But I couldn't help but to notice that what might be the first major scandal or tragedy, depending on how you see it, involves an Armstrong--from Texas, no less. 

All He--Or, Rather, The Kids--Need Are The Bikes

June has just ended.  So, for most students, has the school year.

I recall how, in the old days,  some kids tossed notebooks, pencils and rulers into the air as they dashed away from their school building.  Do kids still do that?  Somehow I have a hard time imagine them tossing laptops or tablets--or their phones--into the air.  

One thing that probably hasn't changed is this:  Kids leave school with visions of long days with friends, at the playground or the beach--or riding bikes.  Maybe they'll ride their bikes to those places.

That is, if they have bikes.

David Yandell has long known that many kids don't have bikes because their families can't afford them.  Over the past twenty years, he's distributed about 2000 bikes in Portland.  In the beginning, he did his own fundraising, but some years back a local developer-turned- philanthropist named Homer Williams got wind of what Yandell was doing and became a partner in the program.

But, this year, Yandell and Williams discovered that, as the saying goes, there are some things money can't buy.  In this case, it was the bikes themselves.  Wal-Mart, normally one of their major sources, said it didn't have any bikes available for them.  The reason is one we've heard since the early days of the pandemic: supply chain disruptions.

More than likely, there are now hundreds of similar bike-distribution programs across the US.  While some may have been suspended, but most folks who undertake such work are dedicated.  And, in Yandell's and William's case, savvy:  Few, if any, such programs have operated for longer than theirs.  

So far, they've acquired half of the 200 bikes they'd promised to kids.  They worked their contacts, not only to find other sources, but to put pressure on Wal-Mart to come up with some bikes.

Turns out, their powers of persuasion are working.  A Wal-Mart representative, citing the value of good community relations, said the company wants to help Yandell get what he needs and believes the bikes are available somewhere in the company's network.

Say what you will (and I would say a lot) about the Wal-Mart's policies and practices.  I think they, or, at least, the representative, know that you don't let down folks like David Yandell because he knows  there are some things money can't buy--like the feeling of being a kid (or a grown-up) riding a bike on a summer day.

In Place

Yesterday I was torn between taking a familiar or a new ride.  So I did a bit of both:  I pedaled through areas of Westchester County I hadn’t seen in a while, on roads I’d never ridden.

While riding, I couldn’t help but to think about how two affluent towns, so close, could feel so different. Scarsdale, New York, like Greenwich, Connecticut, is one of the most affluent towns in the United States.  Both have quaint downtowns full of shops that offer goods and services you don’t find in big-box stores.  But while some Greenwich establishments have the intimacy of places where generations of people have congregated, others are like the ones in Scarsdale and other wealthy parts of Westchester County:  more self-conscious—you can see it in the names, some of which show merely that whoever came up with the name took French or Italian—and more trendy while trying not to seem trendy.  

Also, the mansions of Greenwich are set further from the roadway than those in Scarsdale.  I suspect that has to do with the differences between the towns’ zoning codes—which has to do with the philosophies of the people who made them.  Also, part of Greenwich includes farms where horses are bred and herbs are grown.

In other words, they reflect the difference between New England and suburban New York wealth (though Greenwich is certainly part of the New York Metro area). 

While both towns have public art and sculpture, I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this in Greenwich:

Simone Kestelman, the creator of “Pearls of Wisdom,” says she was inspired by what pearls mean: something to wear for special occasions, purity, spiritual transformation, dignity, charity honesty, integrity—and, of course, wisdom acquired over time.

One might expect to see something like this in Greenwich:

Indeed, the town has public horlogues like that one,  But I encountered it in the Bronx, across the street from Montefiore Hospital!

Simple Arithmetic?

 Only a mathematician could ever come up with that!

I've forgotten what the "that" was.  But I remember that an engineer said it.  Now, my knowledge of mathematics can be summed up, generously, by the divisor of an equation that yields a quotient of infinity. But I understood, I think, that engineer's exclamation:  Almost nothing is as abstract--and, therefore, divorced from reality, at least in the minds of many--as mathematics.

If there are things only a mathematician can come up with, then I imagine there are things an engineer would never try or, probably, even think about.  To wit:

To be fair, Sergii Gordieiev's project was inspired by a real-life situation:  He crushed his front wheel on a curb.  That left him, in essence, with half of a wheel.  So that got him to wondering how to ride with half of a wheel.  The solution came from a mathematical equation so simple even I could understand it:  half plus half equals one.  Thus, he realized, he could make a bike run on two half-wheels--on the rear, anyway.

Your local bike mechanic probably can perform all sorts of miracles.  I know:  I've resurrected a bike or two in my time.  (If you're inculcated with the language of Catholicism, it never leaves you!)  But, my old engineer acquaintance said, there are some things only a mathematician could come up with. 

Next On The Journey--Or: Where Is This Going?

After writing yesterday's post, I noticed something interesting, at least to me.  

I began this blog twelve years ago.  You might say that I spun it off from an earlier blog, Transwoman Times.  I started that blog a year before my gender-affirmation surgery and continued it for several years after.  About a year after my surgery, I--and at least one reader--noticed that I was also writing about my rides and bikes, and cycling in general.  I didn't think bikes or cycling were out of place in TT:  After all, they--and the fact that I couldn't ride for a few months after my surgery--were an important part of my gender affirmation process, as they have been in my life. 

After I started this blog, I wrote less about cycling-related stuff on TT.  So, perhaps not surprisingly, I found myself posting less on that site as I had less and less to say about my gender affirmation.  That is to say, rather than a process of affirmation, my gender identity became a fact of my life.

But now I find that I'm writing more about, if not gender-related topics, then political, social and cultural issues, on this blog.  Those subjects are, of course, related to cycling, especially if it's your primary or a major means of transportation.  You know that from my rants about bicycle "infrastructure" planned, designed and built by people who haven't been on a bicycle since the day they got their driver's licenses. 

I also, however, see that gender-related issues are "creeping" into this blog.  In one way it seems ironic, or at least odd:  Am I coming full-circle (or cycle)?, I wonder.  Then again, this shift in focus, if indeed this blog is moving in that direction, is a fulfillment of what I say in my masthead:  I am--as always--a woman on a bicycle--and something else I say in my profile--this is a blog by a transgender woman.

While I haven't posted on Transwoman Times in a while, I have no plans to let this blog lie fallow.  I just hope that the twists and turns of this blog, and my journey, continue to interest you, and others.  But I must warn you:  I won't stop being "political."  I can't.

The Monday After The Overturn

Last week, I wrote a post on the 50th anniversary of Title IX becoming enshrined in U.S. law.

The following day, the Supreme Court struck down Roe v Wade.

I am writing about that now because I fear that so much of what Title IX made possible can be reversed--or, at least, the law could be rendered all but meaningless.

One thing enslavers know is that keep people servile, all they have to do is restrict the movements of the people they want to keep in bondage and take their bodily sovereignty from them.  The Taliban understands that lesson quite well:  They didn't have to close schools or bar women from opening businesses or practicing professions.  All they had to do was make them wear clothing that inhibited their movements and make it all but impossible to leave their homes without a related male escort.  In a matter of months, they reversed all of the gains Afghan women and girls made during the previous two decades.  Until recently, a similar situation prevailed in Saudi Arabia (enforced by a royal family that, ahem, the United States props up) until women were allowed some elementary rights like riding bicycles and driving cars.

One result of the restrictions in Afghanistan and Saudi  Arabia is that women's health deteriorated.  Women's bodies were seen, as they are in all fundamentalist and orthodox religions, as incubators:  Their health care is seen as important only to the extent that it allows them to bear and rear children.  Because women could not go anywhere without a related male escort, they could be denied care because their husbands didn't want them to take off their clothes in the presence of a male doctor (never mind that a female doctor may not be available) or simply decided the women didn't really need care.

So how does this affect us, in a country where we don't have to wear burkas and can come and go as we please? (Well, OK, there are some areas where  we don't go alone.) As a transgender woman, I often think about bodily autonomy:  What if I'd been told I couldn't take hormones or have surgery?  Or what if there wasn't a therapist and social worker available who understood my situation and could guide me into my transition?  If abortion can be denied, what else can a government--whether national, state or local--tell us we need or don't need, or can or can't have?

For that matter, could politicians and judges tell us what we can and can't do in our free time--or as a profession?  Think about it.  In some states, women have been arrested for having miscarriages or stillbirths.  Why?  Those miscarriages and stillbirths were considered as manslaughter or even homicide on the grounds that some behavior--drug use, drinking, smoking or even diet or activities--induced them.  What if some accident or injury in cycling--or some other sport--were considered as "causes" or "contributing factors?"

You might say that I'm being hysterical or alarmist.  In the days before Roe v Wade, girls were discouraged from sports with this admonition: "It'll tip your uterus."  Or our other "tender parts" would be irrevocably damaged, or the effort of pedaling or running or jumping or whatever would contort our pretty little faces. (They obviously never saw mine!)

And I fear that women's health care--which is still nowhere near the level it should be--will revert to its pre-Roe state.  Of course, I'm not talking about the technology.  Rather, I mean that an attitude Roe engendered--that women, as sentient beings, are worthy of health care in their own right--could revert.  If it's harder to obtain care, and care for ourselves, it will be more difficult to not only particiapate in sports, even recreationally, but also to determine our careers and other areas of life.

Our journeys take many unexpected turns.  I know mine has.  I just hope ours don't go off a cliff with the Supreme Court overturning Roe v Wade.

 

The Way To Go

Whether you are straight or gay, trans or cis, or any other gender or sexual orientation, 

here is my advice to you:

 

A Bike Lane Network: The Community Wants It. Can The City Get It Right?

Sometimes, when I don't have all day, or even morning or afternoon, to ride, I'll take a spin out to the eastern Queens, the New York City borough where I live (in its western end).  The routes between my Astoria apartment and Fort Totten or Alley Pond include some charming residential streets, cute shops and some lovely parks.  

But as the urban-but-not-claustrophobic character of my neighborhood also gives way to more spacious yards, the neighborhoods also become more suburban--and auto-centric.  While some residents of those areas ride for fitness or simply fun, they ride to and in parks and cycling isn't seen as a means of transportation.  Also, the city's mass transit lines don't reach into those neighborhoods.  So, for most people, going to work, school or shop means driving or being driven.

That is why on at least some of the area's streets, cycling can be just as hazardous as it is in more densely-populated neighborhoods.  Too often, drivers simply aren't accustomed to seeing cyclists on the streets.  Or, they have been inculcated with the notion that the drivers rule and cyclists, pedestrians and everyone else are supposed to get out of their way. Thus, so-called "shared" roadways--which consist of nothing more than lines and bike symbols painted on pavement--do nothing to promote safety.

Also, eastern Queens is laced and ringed with major highways.  The off-ramps from those by-ways merge into the neighborhood's main streets like Northern Boulevard.  One problem with the bike lane on the Boulevard is the difficulty in crossing one of those exit ramps, where there is no traffic light or even a "stop," "slow" or "yield" sign.

The problems I mentioned were cited by members of Community Board 11 when they sent back a proposal the City's Department of Transportation presented to them.  The proposal called for a series of bike lanes in a five square-mile area.  While the Board is in favor of establishing a network of lanes, the DoT's initial proposal called for fewer miles of them, none of which would have been protected.  Worst of all, at least in my view, this "network" would have the same problem I've encountered in too many bike lane "networks":  It's not a network.  Lanes weren't connected to each other; they are the "bike lanes to nowhere" I've complained about in other posts.  One board member pointed out that the lack of connection between segments actually puts cyclists in more danger than simply riding on the road.

As I often ride out that way, I am interested to see what the DoT does in response.  I am just happy that in an auto-centric area, community board members see the value in having a network of protected bike lanes. I hope the DoT gets it right. 

On A Cloud, Even If I'm Not Riding Through It

The other day, rain fell in starts and stops, stopping late in the day.  I took Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, for a spin through neighborhood streets and a couple of times around Roosevelt Island.

Some parts of the island, especially the area around the lighthouse and "Girl Puzzle," feel rather bucolic, in and of themselves and in contrast to the skyline and bridge views less than a mile across the water.  

Those views also highlight certain weather conditions.  Low clouds seem even closer to the streets when they enshroud the spires and upper floors of skyscrapers.

I've pedaled up and downmountains similarly cocooned, through  clouds thick enough that I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of me.  It may have been the most Zen-like riding I've ever done:  When all of the normal cues, including color and sound, are gone, I could only ride, in that space, in that moment.  For a time, I couldn't even see my bike under me: I felt only my rear on the saddle, my hands gripping the handlebars so my arms could prop me up and my feet spinning the pedals.  I didn't even know which gear I was riding. 

Of course, no ride on Roosevelt Island, or anyplace in the city, will take me into the clouds.  But I can feel, if for a moment, that I am on a cloud!

Title IX, Fifty Years Later

 On this date in 1972–fifty years ago—Title IX became law in the United States.

It’s commonly associated with its most visible manifestation:  women’s sports in educational institutions.  It is, however, a broad piece of legislation (Do I sound like a lawyer or politician?) stating that no educational institution that receives Federal funding—as most, even private colleges and schools do—can discriminate on the basis of sex.

The title of this blog is “Midlife Cycling.”  I am, however, old enough to have grown up with a girl much smarter than I am and possessing talents I can only wish for but whose parents did everything they could to keep her from going to college (or art school, her dream) because “she’ll get married, stop working and it will all be wasted.”

That rationale was used to impose strict quotas on—or ban outright—women in graduate schools, medical and law schools and even undergraduate programs like engineering. Those schools and programs just happened to offer access to some of the highest-paying jobs which, in the minds of decision-makers (nearly all men) “men need more” because they were going to support those women who were denied access to those programs and jobs—and the children those men and women would have.

Such attitudes were also used to discourage or bar girls and women from participating in sports. It was a kind of circular argument:  Girls’ and women’s participation in sports was pointless because once they graduated from school or aged out of whatever program they were in, there were no more opportunities for them, professionally or otherwise. That women and girls didn’t participate in sports was the rationale for not creating such opportunities! 

In addition to being circular, such an argument was hypocritical and nakedly sexist:  To my knowledge, no boy or man (including me, in my previous life) was ever discouraged from participating in sports because he had little or no chance of getting a scholarship or making a living from it.

One irony of Title IX is that sports is not mentioned anywhere in it.  Only subsequent revelations that women’s and girls’ sports budgets were as little as 1% of those for men’s and boy’s teams caused the law to be applied to sports programs.

While female participation in sports is undoubtedly much greater than it was half a century ago, it—and, perhaps more importantly, the budgets for it—are still much lower than those for males, and not nearly in proportion to student enrollment. Women make up nearly 60 percent of college and university enrollments but only 44 percent of varsity athletes.

What’s even more revealing is that budgets for women’s sports teams are not even in proportion to their level of participation.

Much of that has to do with priorities. In most colleges and universities, most of the revenue comes from football (American-style) and basketball.  While there are many women’s basketball programs, they, with few exceptions, don’t garner the attention devoted to men’s teams.

I think the reason for that is also the reason why, even sports in which women’s participation is greater, men’s abilities are prized over women’s.  Because, on average, they are taller and stronger, men can jump higher, hit harder and run faster.  Those abilities translate into dunks, tackles and sprints:  the sorts of things used to promote football, men’s basketball and other men’s sports.

If there were as much respect accorded to the qualities of female athletes—such as flexibility, resilience and endurance—there would be more respect for, and professional opportunities in, not only women’s basketball, but also in other sports like volleyball, gymnastics and, yes, cycling.

Speaking of which:  About 200 post-secondary educational institutions sponsor club-level cycling teams, which compete against other schools but are usually funded by the students themselves.  As of 2020,  21 colleges and universities have what are known as “varsity” cycling teams.  They are funded by the schools, just like (but not at the level of) football, basketball and other “major” teams.  All 21 of those schools have both men’s and women’s teams. In a few, the dollar value of the average woman’s scholarship is greater than the average men’s; in others, it’s less or equal.

So, while intercollegiate cycling might be doing a little better in gender equity than other intercollegiate sports are doing, as researchers might say, the sample size is small.  But, given what I’ve said about the differences between male and female athletes, and the fact that some overall cycling records have been held by women, I think the potential of women’s cycling, whether collegiate, Olympic or professional, has yet to be realized.

Held To Different Standards

What is your name?  What is today's date?  Who is the President?

I passed the test: I answered all three questions correctly, as much as it pained me to utter Donald Trump's name in response to the third.  

So who administered that exam?  A doctor in Westchester Medical Center, after the worst crash I've suffered in half a century (!) of cycling.  My mishap, which "totaled" Arielle, my first Mercian bike, also included a face-plant.  So that doctor was testing my cognition as a first step to determining whether I'd suffered any brain damage.  

I thought about that after hearing that President Joe Biden fell off his bike while speding the weekend at his family's retreat in Delaware.  According to reports, the President when he came to a stop, his foot got caught in a toe clip, which caused him to tumble.  

President Biden, after falling off his bike.  Photo by Sarah Silbiger, for the New York Times.

He didn't appear to suffer any injuries or require medical attention.  Instead of doctors and nurses, reporters surrounded him as he picked himself up.  So, their "test" was a bit different from the one I "passed."  Before continuing his ride, he answered questions about--are you ready for this?--tariffs on Chinese goods and gun control legislation.

Hmm...If my doctor had asked those questions, I wonder how he would've assessed my condition.

The Ride: A Constant In The City

Yesterday I answered my own question by taking a ride.  As I often do, I zigzagged through some neighborhoods in Queens and Brooklyn before ending up in Coney Island. As the day was warm and sunny, and the wind of the past few days had all but died down, people were out: cycling, walking with themselves, canes, strollers, dogs and their friends, lovers, spouses and children.  And although yesterday was officially a holiday, there was, on some streets, nearly as much traffic as on a normal weekday.  People who didn't have to go to work simply wanted to get out, and I couldn't blame them.

It seemed, somehow, that the bike I chose to ride influenced the ride itself.  Because the wind was nearly calm, in contrast to the previous few days, I felt like taking a spin on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike.  And, while I didn't plan my route beforehand--in fact, I thought no further ahead than the next traffic light throughout my ride--I think I stuck to a flat route in part because I couldn't shift gears.

My ride--about 70 kilometers in total--was very nice, except for one thing:

At Prospect Park, I took a detour (if you can call anything on a ride like the one I took yesterday a detour) onto some streets I know but hadn't seen in a while. Hal Ruzal, the former partner and mecahnic/wheelbuilder par excellence of Bicycle Habitat--and the one who introduced me to Mercians and a few interesting bands--moved out of the house in the photo two and a half years ago.  I've joked that he "got out of Dodge": the pandemic struck just a couple of months after he left.  He's now living in another part of the country that, while affected by COVID (where wasn't?), didn't suffer from lockdowns or other ravages were we experienced here in New York.

When I texted that photo, and a couple of others, to Hal, he seemed more saddened by the generic townhouse-like building constructed across the street from his old house, and by the fact that the house next door is vacant and up for sale.  "I hope the lady who owned it didn't die," he said.

My message was more evidence, to him, that the city of our youth no longer exists.  I would agree, and sometimes I mourn the loss of it, but there is still much I enjoy--like the bike ride I took yesterday.

Solitude And A Holiday

 The other day I rode to Point Lookout.  I began my ride under bright, sunny skies. As I pedaled through the Rockaways, however, clouds gathered, layer upon layer, shade over shade, blues and grays refracting the light of the sea and sky but posing no real threat of rain.

But, although it was Saturday, the scene along the Rockaway and Long Beach boardwalks bore more resemblance to mid-week—and early April rather than mid-June.  

The high temperature—around 19C or 66F—was indeed more like early Spring than early Summer.  What kept people from taking seaside strolls was, I believe, the wind, which at times gusted to 60KPH (about 38MPH). Some of the folks I saw were clad in fleece parkas!

I’ll admit that I like the relative solitude of rides like the one I took the other day:  I feel my being expanding across the expanse of sea and sky.

After I finish my cup of coffee, I will ride.  This afternoon will be a bit warmer, with less wind.  And it’s the official commemoration of Juneteenth. Government offices and many businesses are closed, so people have the day off.  I wonder whether I’ll see more people—and traffic—than I saw the other day.

Freedom Rides

Although the holiday will be commemorated tomorrow, today Juneteenth. On this date in 1865, the slaves of Texas got word that they were finally free, some two years after Abraham Lincoln delivered the Emancipation Proclamation and two months after the Civil War ended.

This date was first declared a Federal holiday last year.  The law making it a Federal holiday stipulates that if it falls on a weekend, it will be observed on the Friday before or Monday following, whichever is closer.  So, the first two observances of Juneteenth have resulted in three-day weekends!

In any event, there are a number of "Freedom Rides."  I plan to ride, possibly with others who are observing the holiday--and to attend a dinner with some friends.

 

From BikePortland

 

Don't Try This At Home--Or On The Interstate

Baron Georges-Eugene Haussmann has been as revered as Nehemiah and reviled as Robert Moses.  However you see him, you can't deny that he is as responsible as anyone for the kind of city Paris is, and has been for the past century-plus.

One of the things he did was to introduce a street grid. Previously, much of Paris--especially the old districts like Le Marais--were laced with streets narrow streets that zigged, zagged and curved.  If you've been in the medieval sections of some European cities--or a few small districts of New York and Boston--you have an idea of what the City of Light was like before Baron Haussmann came along.

In re-doing Paris' streets, he also made them wider.  While they still seem charmingly or claustrophobically narrow, depending on your point of view, compared to American thoroughfares, the newly-made streets were still a good bit wider.  They allowed for Paris' new infrastructure, including sewers and the very thing that gave the city its nicknames:  gas-powered streetlights. 

While most people agree that widening and straightening the streets modernized the city and made it more habitable for many people, others accused Haussmann of being a tool of the powers-that-be.  Up to that time, Parisians were noted for insurrecting on the drop of a chapeau, and instigators who knew the streets could evade soldiers and guardsmen, who often came from other parts of the country and therefore weren't familiar with the twists and turns of those byways.  But the new, arrow-straight streets made pursuits easier because, well, they made it easier to keep perpetrators in their pursuers' sights.

I mention all of this because, while I hope (and assume, dear reader) that you will never steal a bike, I can offer this bit of advice:  If you try to make your escape on wheels you wrested from their rightful owners, don't try to make your escape on a road that stretches straight ahead of you for miles and miles (or kilometers and kilometers).

And, especially, don't try to make your getaway on an Interstate highway.  It will almost certainly result in your getting caught and hurt, or worse.

A 31-year-old man in Seattle learned that lesson the hard way.  At around 7pm on Wednesday, a bicycle was reported stolen on NE 45th Street near Interstate 5. Police were alerted and Washington State Troopers stopped him on the highway.  When he fought, they tasered him.  He ended up in a local hospital with non-life-threatening injuries.

It will be interesting, to say the least, to find out more about this alleged thief--and what prompted him to try to get away on the main north-south highway of the US West Coast.

Let Us Know So We Can Do Nothing

Be a snitch.  But don't expect us to go after the perps.

That is the message Chicago cyclists are getting from their city.  

On one hand, on Wednesday morning Alderman Daniel La Spata of the Windy City's First Ward sent this Tweet:

My office has been investigating the best way to submit Bike Lane Parking Violations for enforcement to the City of Chicago. Here is the best way to submit violations for ticketing:

— Alderman Daniel La Spata (@AldermanLaSpata) June 15, 2022

He was  encouraging cyclists to take photos of drivers parked in designated bike lanes and send them to 311 so the city can pursue a citation.

That same afternoon, however, a Chicago Department of Transportation spokesperson said that while the agency encourages what La Spata advised, the City uses the information "to guide enforcement and identify hot spots to improve public safety."  Those complaints, however, are not sent to Administrative Hearings for ticketing," the CDoT spokesperson said.

Would Chicago, or any other city, tell its citizens to take videos of robberies or assaults in progress, forward them to the city, and say that it plans to do nothing with them?  How many people would want to be "the eyes and ears" of their communities?  

 

Bloomsday: The Clothes And The Bikes

 Today is Bloomsday:  the date, in 1904, in which James Joyce's Ulysses is set.  As it happens, that date, like today, is a Thursday.

Ambassador Emer O'Connell and Consul Dominic Berkeley launch the Embassy of Ireland's book giveaway to celebrate Bloomsday 2021.  This doesn't relate to a bike ride per se, but I like the photo.

Numerous bike rides are holding Bloomsday-themed bike rides.  Some seem to have little more connection to the novel than people cycling in costumes based on clothes of that era:  or, at least people's ideas about it.  I don't mind that:  While I encourage helmet-wearing, I like seeing people crowned with ribboned straw hats astride bikes.  

But by the time the novel was published, women's clothing was less voluminous than it was before the bike boom of the 1890s.  Bicycling led to hoopskirts and whalebone corsets being replaced by shorter skirts and bloomers. (The latter would be particularly appropriate on "Bloomsday," wouldn't it?)  Also, as the sartorial revolution in progress, cyclists were forsaking high-wheelers in favor of "safety" bicycles with two wheels of equal diameter.

So...while I am not against some "artistic license," if you will, I think riding a high-wheeler in a Bloomsbury ride is a bit like showing up for a Woodstock-themed celebration with a "punk" haircut and clothing.   Or baking chocolate chips into bagels (hey, I'm a New Yorker) or topping pizzas with, well, almost anything.

Go To School, Get A License--And 100 Euros Toward Your Bike

Since Vladimir Putin launched his Ukraine invasion, many have worred that other adjacent countries, which were part of the Soviet Union, may also be in his sights.  Among them is Estonia.  Although, unlike Ukraine, it's a NATO member, it's also much smalller. 

In the three decades since the Soviet Union dissolved, Estonia has, in many ways, become more progressive than other countries.  While its policies on gender and homosexuality aren't like those of, say, the Netherlands (in large part because of its vocal Russian minority), it nonetheless recognizes same-sex partnerships and the gender identities of transgender people.  And it was the first nation to enshrine internet access as a human right in its laws.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the country is also encouraging people to cycle for transportation and recreation.  The government of its capital city, Talinn, has submitted a draft proposal to the city council to subsidize a local "cycling school" for kids aged 10 to 15.  Upon completion of its curriculum, which will include courses in traffic safety, those young people would receive bicycle license--and 100 Euros toward the purchase of a bicycle.

The goal of this program is to popularize cycling as a form of mobility among the young.  I am guessing that the city planners hope that people will continue to cycle for transportation and recreation when they are old enough to drive.  Licensing and offering the subsidy might indeed help.  I just hope that the school's classes don't perpetuate some of the misconceptions that "bike safety" programs promulgate here--and planners, policy makers and law-enforcement officers perpetuate--here in the US.  

Somehow I don't think such a program would make Putain, I mean Putin, happy.  That might be enough reason to support it!