In 1962, It Was Superior

It was what Sheldon Brown called "the Dark Ages of American Cycling."  Or it was the "dark before the dawn" of the North American Bike Boom that began, depending on whom you ask, around 1969.

I am talking about 1962: 60 years ago. At the end of Bob Seger’s "Night Moves," the reminiscing narrator is "humming a song" from that year: the Ronette's "Be My Baby,” according to Seger. 

That year, Algeria won its independence--at least, in name--from France as Jamaica did from England.  A certain English band was playing at the Star-Club in Hamburg, West (yes, it was West) Germany. And--what I am about to reveal might cause some of you to never read this blog again--my favorite baseball team, the New York Mets, made their lovably, comically inept debut. (Their manager, Casey Stengel, lamented, "Can't anybody here play this game?")

And, although there were custom builders who made frames for the small but enthusiastic cycling communities of New York, Boston, Detroit, Chicago and a few other American locales, the name most Americans associated with quality bicycles was Schwinn.

Their company's top model, the Paramount, was built by hand in a separate area from the other bikes.  I have heard, from more than one source, that Schwinn actually lost money on Paramounts.  That sounds plausible:  Similar British, French and other European bikes with Reynolds tubing and Campagnolo components cost less (1962 Paramount price:  $175.00), mainly because the labor was less expensive.  Supposedly, Schwinn continued to build Paramounts because they were the official bike of the U.S. Olympic team and Arnold Schwinn saw equipping the riders who represented his country as an act of patriotism.  It also helped to support Schwinn's reputation as the only American bike-maker of that time with even a pretense of quality.

In 1962, Schwinn's second-line bike was the Superior.  Its frame was similar to the model of the same name Schwinn introduced in 1976:  chrome-molybdenum tubing filet-brazed without lugs into smooth joints and forged rear dropouts.  Both bikes also had Weinmann centerpull brakes (the cool engraved version on the 1962 bike) and rims with Schwinn-approved large-flange hubs made in France, probably by Normandy.

Oh, and I love the stem and handlebars--made for Schwinn by Gerry Burgess (GB) of England.  I can't get over that "lugged" sleeve on the handlebar:

 

 

Beyond those features, though, the 1960s and 1970s versions were very different. While both had Huret rear dropouts, the older version was equipped with the Huret Allvit derailleur:  standard touring gear of that time.  

The later Superiors came with Schwinn-branded Shimano or SunTour rear derailleurs--with, interestingly, Huret front derailleurs and shifters.  While the Shimano and SunTour mechanisms shifted much better in almost any condition, they seemed to have an almost unfair advantage on the 1970s bike, a ten-speed with the Nervar crankset that used the Specialites TA Pro Vis 5/Stronglight 49D bolt pattern and a wide-range rear freewheel.  On the other hand, the Allvit had to wrap up the yards and yards (OK, that's just a slight exaggeration) of chain necessitated by this:

The 1962 Superior certainly had 15 speeds--exotic for that time.  To achieve it, Schwinn used something I've seen maybe a couple of times in all of my years of cycling and working in bike shops:  a triple (with three chainrings)  Ashtabula (one-piece) crankset. Made from solid forged steel, it probably weighed as much as the frame!

To be fair, there weren't as many cotterless cranks, or triples,  available as there are now.  Schwinn used three-piece cottered cranks only on their early Paramounts.  Even the heaviest cottered cranks were lighter than any Ashtabula cranks, and some companies like Chater Lea, Stronglight and Duprat made cranks with pencil-thin arms.  But, once Stronglight and Campagnolo came out with durable alloy cotterless cranksets, cottered cranks disappeared from high-end road bikes (though they would continue to be used on the track until around 1960).  

Still, even in light of what I've just mentioned, that Ashtabula crank seems so incongruous with the rest of the bike.  But, for most Americans in 1962, the Superior would have seemed as other-worldly as a spaceship.

By the way:  the Superior cost $132 in 1962.  That model was made for only another year and, interestingly, the price dropped to $126.50.  From 1964 until 1970, the Super Sport--basically, a ten-speed version of the Superior--was Schwinn's #2 bike behind the Paramount.  In 1971, the Sports Tourer would knock the Super Sport to #3 and become the new Superior in 1976.

How A Perfect Weekend Of Riding Began

 Yesterday I spun to Point Lookout on La-Vande, my Mercian Vincitore Special.  The day before--Saturday--I pedaled her "sister" LaVande--my Mercian King of Mercia--to Greenwich, Connecticut.  The riding was wonderful: For one thing, the weather was perfect:  dry air, clear skies and high temperatures of 27-28C (81 to 83F).  But I got my best photos from the "appetizer" ride I did Friday evening on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear.

On an all-but-perfect summer evening, the waterfront promenades of Williamsburg were full of picnickers, dog-walkers, families and people simply hanging out and enjoying the weather and light.  But somehow the spaces didn't seem so crowded.  Perhaps it had something to do with the nearly-clear skies, the expanse of river and the kind of sunset the cynic in me associated only with postcard images:

I'll Drink To That!

In my youth, one of the few midlife (!) cyclists I knew gave me this bit of advice:  "The three most important things to do while riding are to hydrate, hydrate and hydrate, in that order."

My memory might be a bit fuzzy, but I believe his cupboard looked something like this:

 

Good For What Ails You!

Most people associate doctors' prescriptions with pharmaceutical concoctions.  But now physicians in a Houston clinic are prescribing, in addition to medications, something else for patients with prehypertension, hypertension, diabetes and prediabetes.

What is the new "wonder drug?"  A one-year membership in Houston BCycle, the city's bike-share program. Thanks to a collaboration between Houston Bicycle, the American Heart Association and Legacy Community Health in the city's Fifth Ward, patients can take a traditional or electric bicycle for 90 minutes at any BCycle location.

Photo by Lucio Vasquez

Those organizations began to work on the collaboration more than two years ago. Then the pandemic struck.  The director of Legacy continued to talk with the AHA and Houston Bicycle and the collaboration, called Bike Rx, finally started in February.  

The collaboration also helps to fulfill a goal articulated by Houston BCycle communications manager Mary De Bauche:  improving transportation options as well as the health and well-being of people in underserved communities.   Most residents of Legacy's Fifth Ward locale are Black or Hispanic, many of whom live below the official poverty level. In such communities, hypertension and diabetes are more common than in more affluent areas, in part because of the limited transportation and recreation options, which compound the stresses of being poor and experiencing racial and ethnic bigotry.

While the "bike prescription" program is, for the moment, available only at Legacy, De Bauche and officials of the other participating organizations hope that it will expand to other sites in the city.

  

They Are Supposed To Protect Us. Who Will Protect Us From Them?

They park their work--and personal--vehicles in bike lanes while munching on Big Macs.  They tail you at intersections, just as the light is changing, and force you to choose between going through the intersection or stopping and getting rammed from behind. Or they jump out from behind bushes in a park and make cyclists speed up--above the speed limit--to avoid them.

Oh, and sometimes they don't bother with those tactics and cut to the chase:  They assault, in some cases sexually, cyclists.

By now, you've probably guessed that I'm talking about police officers.  I have witnessed or experienced everything I've experienced from "men in blue" here in New York.  But, perhaps not surprisingly, none of those things are unique to my hometown.

According to Molly Hurford, Toronto police have turned that city's High Park into a "battleground" in which cyclists have been spuriously ticketed for "speeding" and "trespassing."  

 

Oh, but it gets worse.  Last Tuesday, an officer--one who has been ticketing cyclists, no less--drove his SUV into the park.  Just outside the park, a cyclist who was riding in the bike lane stopped at a four-way stop, with the officer to his left.  The officer turned his vehicle directly into him. The cyclist wasn't injured, but his bike sustained over $2000 in damage.  

The officer claimed that the sun was in his eyes.  Lawyer and cycling advocate David Shelnutt, who has taken up the cyclist's case pro bono, said, "In no other incident would 'the sun being in his eyes' be an acceptable excuse for any traffic violation."  At the very least, he says, that officer ran a red light; the sun shouldn't have made a cyclist invisible only four feet from the officer.  The city's Traffic Services says it's continuing its investigation.

The Roman poet Juvenal could have had the incident in mind when he wrote, "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?"--Who will guard the guardians?  Who protect cyclists (or anyone else) from those who are supposed to protect them?

Why They Left Out Bicycles

On Sunday, the US Senate passed the Inflation Reduction Act. Perhaps not surprisingly, the vote split along party lines, with the 50 Democrats voting for it and 50 Republicans rejecting it.  Vice President Kamala Harris, a Democrat, broke the tie.

As I understand it, the Inflation Reduction Act is a shrink-wrapped, rebranded version of what Biden and other Democrats actually wanted. The fact that some things that were included in the Build Back Better Act, which passed in the House of Representatives, were omitted from the IRA is no more an oversight than calling it the "Inflation Reduction Act" was not an attempt to make the energy- and environmentally-related aspects of it more palatable to the Senate's two most right-leaning Democrats, Kirsten Sinema and Joe Manchin.

One key omission were tax breaks and other subsidies for bicycles and other two-wheeled vehicles that are powered wholly or in part by human energy. The original Build Back Better proposal included a $900 tax credit for the purchase of an electric bicycle and a pre-tax benefit to help commuters with the costs of bicycling to work.  

That tax credit was available to cyclists before 2017, when Republicans repealed it as part of the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act.  The Build Back Better Act would have essentially restored it but I think Chuck Schumer, the Democratic leader of the Senate, who worked with Manchin on the IRA, realized that he had to take out some of its "greener" parts to get Manchin and Sinema to agree to it.

I say that it's unfortunate, not only because I am a cyclist.  As Harvard Kennedy Center visiting  fellow David Zipper told Alex Dougherty of POLITICO, "We need not just to shift people from gasoline to electric cars. We need people to shift from cars, period." But, as he points out, there's nothing in IRA that "makes that process easier or faster or more likely to happen."

Any piece of legislation that ostensibly has anything to do with the environment or energy but omits bicycles is a bit like a bouillabaisse without fish or a caponata without eggplant. 

"You Rode All The Way Here?"

We're in the grip of another heat wave.  According to the weather forecasters, yesterday was the hottest day so far:  96F, or 35.6C.  The humidity, though, is what makes it so oppressive:  As soon as you step out, you feel as if you're wearing the air.

So, once again, I'm taking early rides on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear.  Yesterday I rode out to Red Hook, where an almost preternaturally blue (for that area, anyway) sea and sky provided a visual, if not visceral, relief. 

And they allowed me to fantasize about traveling to exotic, faraway places--even if I know, thanks to family members who worked the docks, how un-romantic it actually is to travel the world by working on ships.

Anyway, today's ride had an interesting twist:  I crossed a pedestrian bridge over Hamilton Avenue, which is more like a highway than a city street.  A construction crew was installing new guardrails.  The foreman or supervisor, a fellow named Wallace who's a few years older than me, had to fill out some sort of report or form but didn't have a pen.  I overheard him, stopped and said, "I'm pretty sure I have one."  Which I did, and he was grateful.  We talked for a while; he asked where I was coming from. "Astoria."  

"Really?  All the way from there?"

I nodded.  

"You have a nice bike."  He picked it up and accidentally kicked the pedal.  "You rode a fixed gear all the way from Astoria?"

I said that, for me, it's not a really long ride and if he started riding, he probably could do it after a couple of months or so.  He demurred.  We got to talking about a lot of things--music, what life was like when we were teens, the state of the city and favorite foods.  But he just couldn't get over the fact that I'd ridden from my place--about 17 kilometers--on my fixie, and that I would continue to the Red Hook waterfront and head home--about 40 kilometers, in all, before the worst of the day's heat and humidity.

A Motorist Strikes--And Shoots--A Cyclist In Florida

It's bad enough when any motorist's vehicle strikes any cyclist.  It's even worse, at least in some ways, when said motorist does so intentionally.

What can be worse than that? 

An account that came my way provided an answer.  On Saturday, in Florida (surprise, surprise), on the Gulf Coast specifically, two men were cycling when they heard a car behind them. Before they could react, a driver them and knocked them to the ground.

Tire marks where a motorist struck--and shot--a cyclist.  (From WINK news.)

What makes this incident especially galling is that, according to investigations, the driver deliberately left the road to hit them.  Both cyclists saw that driver pilot the SUV past them, in the opposite direction, before circling around to approach them from behind, at a high rate of speed.

Oh, but it gets even worse. After driver struck them, the cyclists leapt and tried to flee.  The driver then got out of the SUV and shot one of the cyclists before getting back in and driving off.

Luckily for the cyclist who was shot, his injuries are non-life threatening.  

The Collier County Sheriff's Office says it has a "person of interest" but did not mention any suspects or a description of the shooter.

Generating Electricity At Newport

Perhaps the Newport Folk Festival's most famous or infamous (depending on your point of view) came in 1963, when Bob Dylan plugged in his guitar. 

That moment's fame might be eclipsed by something that electrified the audience at this year's Festival--and folks like me who saw it only on video.  Joni Mitchell, who performed at the 1969 edition, appeared for the first time, in any venue, with guitar in hand, since her 55th birthday--23 years ago.  Since then, she has suffered a number of health problems, including a brain aneurism in 2015 that left her unable to speak or walk, much less play a guitar.

What may not be as well-remembered as Bob Dylan's electric guitar or the electricity Joni Mitchell generated by, well, simply showing up is the way one stage's electricity was powered.  You guessed it:  Some festival-goers pedaled stationary bicycles for the Bicycle Stage, a brainchild of the environmentally-conscious Virginia indie rock duo Illiterate Light.  

Mardi Diaz, right, performs on a stage powered by festival-goers on bicycles. (Photo by Pat Eaton-Robb for the AP) 

Jeff Gorman, the band's front man, said that the Bike Stage in Newport marked the first time the idea has been tried at a festival.  The idea came to him at the 2019 edition of the festival, when about 1300 of the 10,000 or so attendees pedaled to the Rhode Island festival.  Festival-goers take turns pedaling the bike for about five minutes of a twenty-minute set.  For their efforts, they get spritzes of water from a spray bottle, a free can of iced tea and a front-row view of the performance.

Who Leads The Way?

Susan B. Anthony remarked that the bicycle did more than anything else to liberate women.

Sometimes I wonder what she would have made of couples on tandems.  Almost any time I've seen a male-female riding duo, the male is in the front, or "captain's" position and the female is in the rear.  That means the man/boy is steering and, depending on how much input he gets or takes from his partner, is determining the course of the ride. 

Is there any way to correct that imbalance?

If Not The Bike

Another heat wave has this city, and area, in its grip.  That means, as in the previous stretch of serial "scorchers," I'm taking early morning rides.  Also, I needed to get back in time for a lunchtime conference call.

Although my situation precluded a long ride, I was happy to be awake and on the road before the rush hour traffic.  I rode early enough, in fact, that on my way back--which took me along the Malcolm X Promenade--I didn't see very much traffic entering or exiting LaGuardia Airport.  

Also, I rode early enough to avoid an afternoon storm that was forecast, but never arrived.  The seeming imminence of the storm was accented by two skeletal trees on the bay:

It's strange to see them in the middle of summer.  I think they were just planted, along with other vegetation, to shore up a shoreline ravaged by Sandy and other storms.  Or those trees might've been damaged during, and pruned after, one of those storms.

Those trees framed a grimly dreamlike skyline of tall buildings blotted by clouds behind masts of boats belying the seemingly-imminent storm.

That I can find, without even trying, a new view or other sensual experience on a ride I've done dozens, or even hundreds, of times is a reason why I take those rides time and time again.  Some folks--friends--think it has to do with my innate "sensitivity."  I say it's, if not the bike, then cycling.

 

Change And Reconnection

Early yesterday morning I rode Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike, along the waterfronts of Astoria, Long Island City, Greenpoint and Williamsburg.  Another heat wave, like the one we had last week, was on its way.  But that was just one reason why I took an early ride.

After showering and a cup of coffee, I pedaled my "beater" to Court Square, near the much-missed (by me, anyway) Five Pointz building.  Riding there allowed me to take a more direct subway ride to Montrose Avenue in Brooklyn.

There, I met two old (OK, longtime) friends:

On previous trips to France, I've spent time with Jay and Isabelle who, I now realize, are my longest-standing friends. They came to town because their son has just begun to live and work in New Jersey, for an American branch of a company for whom he'd been working in France.

 

Meeting in Bushwick was Jay's idea.  This wasn't his or Isabelle's first time in New York--Jay actually lived here for a time--but he was looking through the Guide Routard (a sort of French counterpart of the Lonely Planet guide) for something "different."  So, as per the guide's suggestion, we started at the Montrose Street subway station, crossed Bushwick Avenue (the bane of Brooklyn cyclists) and wended our way through the back streets of a Bushwick industrial zone.

I have cycled through those streets, sometimes as a destination, other times en route to or from other places.  While I've seen buildings torn down and built up, spaces opened and closed, people and organizations coming and going, I don't think there's any neighborhood or district that shows me how much this city changes over time.  For one thing, some of the murals themselves change.  Also, I remember when the graffiti on the buildings wasn't of the kind that people like Jay and Isabelle would take a subway ride, or people like me would take a bike ride, to see. About twenty years ago, people--mostly men--worked in the warehouses and workshops during the day.  Anyone who stayed after business hours was too poor to live anyplace else.  Young people didn't move to the neighborhood; they looked for ways out of it.  And whenever I rode through it, I was the only adult cyclist for blocks, or even miles, around.

Of course, people change, too.  After a morning of wandering through one of the most expansive displays of truly public art in this city, we went to Christina's (Was our choice influenced by the mural? ;-)) in Greenpoint. It's a sort of cross between a New York/New Jersey diner--complete with Frank Sinatra and '70's pop tunes playing in the background--and a working-class eatery one might find in Cracow. I think we were the only non-Polish people in the place. Over pierogis and blintzes, we talked about their son, Jules, and how he wants to "voyager a travers  le monde"--see the world--just as we did when we were young. Actually, there are still places I want to see, and to re-visit.  But the pandemic has postponed travel plans for the past two years.  And, although I am fully vaccinated and take precautions, Jay reminded me of why I want to wait.  He and Isabelle didn't plan on coming here until a week or so before they arrived, which meant that their flights were expensive.  But, more to the point, he said that if, by some chance, he or Isabelle were to test positive and had to quarantine, or new restrictions were imposed--or a flight were abruptly cancelled--it could cost thousands of euros or dollars.

I told them that, if everything works out, I hope to return to France in January.  Seeing them gave me hope for that.  If nothing else, I felt as if I'd reconnected with what and whom I have known and loved, in all of changes and the ways they haven't changed.  

After I send this post, I will take another early ride and get home in time for brunch.

We Need To Be Counted Because We Count

One of the reasons why underserved communities are underserved is that the folks who decide, for example, where to build schools or run bus lines don't know how many people are in those communities--or even that those communities exist.  Some of that has to do with members of those communities not making themselves know--for example, by not filling out census forms, for whatever reasons.  There is also a matter of the biases of the data-gatherers:  Some don't want to recognize members of such communities, but more often, they simply don't know where to look for them or how to count them.

So it is with cyclists.  While many American cities have found effective ways to gauge motor vehicle traffic, whether through "car counters" or other means, almost none have done even a rudimentary, let alone an accurate, count of bicyclists.  Worse yet, when we are counted, those tallies don't reflect where, when or for what purposes we ride. As an example, counts taken on bike lanes in central areas of cities will find commuters, while tallies taken on bike lanes leading out of those neighborhoods will find more recreational cyclists.  And if a bike census, if you will, depends on counts from bike share docking stations, yet another type of rider will be found.

A subtle bike counter. Photo by Christopher Porter,.

The problem is that jurisdictions that bother to count cyclists tend to use only one method to record riders.  The most common is volunteers stationed, with a clipboard and pen, in places where significant numbers of people ride.  I once was such a volunteer, for a day,  with Transportation Alternatives:  I stood on the Manhattan side of the Queensborough-59th Street Bridge and counted the cyclists and pedestrians (this was before motor scooters became popular)  descending from its ramp to First Avenue.  As diligent as I was, I am sure I missed riders or pedestrians.  Even if my count were completely accurate, I had to wonder how useful it would have been for anything but deciding whether to widen the bike lane--which would never happen.

As Kea Wilson points out in a recent Streetsblog article, cities need not only to start counting cyclists; they also need to employ a number of methods, including devices like the "car counters" many already employ and data from sources like Strava and even cell phone data. Although they, together, won't count 100 percent of riders --sometimes mechanical and electronic counters stop working or, if they're programmed to detect a certain level of speed, miss a cyclist who's riding faster than a bus-- they will do much to make us less under-countednand, more important, mis-counted, than we are now.  

Perhaps even more important, though, is a thoughtful analysis of the data collected.  Why are cyclists riding (or not)  where they're riding (or not)? Are they riding on one street rather than another, or instead of a nearby bike lane?  What are some of our common destinations?  Also, if a "census" is to be useful in improving bike safety, it needs to help in determining where crashes and injuries are most likely to occur.

Until cities and other jurisdictions start to make accurate counts of cyclists and assesments of how, where and why people ride (or don't), they won't build bicycle infrastructure or will continue to build more of the  poorly-designed, -constructed and -maintained bike lanes we too often see.

Update: Michigan And Jersey City

Today's post is a follow-up to two recent posts.

The cyclists who were killed in a Michigan charity ride, and the driver who ran them down, have been identified.  

On Saturday, Michael Salhaney of Bloomfield Hills, a Detroit suburb, posted a Facebook Live video telling his viewers that he faced a "tough day in the saddle":  112 miles through the middle of the state. Ann Arbor resident Edward Erickson was participating in the annual Make-A-Wish ride for the ninth time and, according to his participant website page, exceeded his fundraising goal of $3500.  He was riding on the team Salhaney captained.

From Edward Erickson's participant webpage.

"I hope we are able to ride together in 2022!" Erickson wrote.  He added that he was committed to raising money for Make-A-Wish Michigan to grant the wishes of children with critical illnesses.  "A wish replaces fear with confidence, sadness with joy and anxiety with hope.  And hope is essential for these courageous children, more than ever," he added.

Salhaney was a partner at a litigation law firm and a former prosecuting attorney at the Oakland County Prosecutor's Office.  It looks like his counterparts in Ionia County, where the ride ended for him and Erickson ended, are doing their job, so far:  Local resident Mandy Marie Benn has been arraigned and charged with two counts of operating while intoxicated causing death, operating a vehicle under the influence of a controlled substance, and a second notice of operating a vehicle while intoxicated.  She is being held on a $1 million bond in Ionia County jail.

I hope that Jersey City Council Member Amy De Gise is similarly held to account.  Two weeks ago, around 8 o'clock in the morning, she struck cyclist Andrew Black.  Although he caromed off the hood of her Nissan Rouge and his bike was trashed, he wasn't seriously hurt.  Still, De Gise continued on her way as if a pigeon ricocheted off her roof.  

A petition with around 5000 signatures calls for her resignation, which she resolutely refuses to do.  So far, she hasn't even acknowledged the hit-and-run incident.  It seems that she's been shielded, directly or indirectly, by her father:  Tom De Gise, the powerful longtime Hudson County Executive. 

I think that she should not only resign, she should also apologize and pay for any expenses Black has incurred (whether through medical costs, lost wages or his bike) from her own purse, not through some government insurance plan or slush fund. 

In the Michigan charity ride tragedy, three other cyclists, all men from the eastern part of the state, were injured. One is in critical condition but expected to recover; the other two were treated at a local hospital and released.  

Where Are Cyclists Most In Danger? On Stroads.

When a plane crashes, the first thing investigators look for is "pilot error."

When a motor vehicle crashes, the authorities ask questions like, "Was the driver intoxicated?  Was he or she texting?"

When a pedestrian is struck, the focus turns to matters like what the pedestrian was wearing.  Could he or she not be seen in the dark?

And when I crashed, the first things the police wanted to know were:  Was I wearing a helmet?  Was I following all relevant traffic laws?  Was I intoxicated?  ("Yes" to the first two questions; "No" to the third.)

In other words, when what are commonly called "accidents" occur, the first inclination of investigators is to look for "human error."  While some mishaps are indeed a result of drinking, texting or other distractions, or of carelessness, as often as not, the blame lies elsewhere.

Jessie Singer, the author of There Are No Accidents, offers this explanation:  We focus on individual blame because it makes it easier to believe that it couldn't happen to us.  As an example, I grew up in a place and time in which women and girls were blamed for getting raped:  If she hadn't been wherever she was whenever she was, wearing whatever she was, it wouldn't have happened to her. Or so people believed. But, as we all know, there are all sorts of situation in which someone "did everything right" and still suffered an "accident" or is somehow victimized.  

The problem with the focus on individual behavior, according to Singer, is that it prevents the structural changes necessary to prevent recurrences of crashes or other mishaps.  

Charles Marohn would agree.  He is an engineer who used to work on road design.  The most dangerous roads for everyone--but especially cyclists, pedestrians and the disabled--are what he calls "stroads":  thoroughfares that combine the worst traits of roads and streets.  Roads, he said, are designed to move people and vehicles from one place to another.  Well-designed roads, he explains, are usually wide, with lots of lanes and clear zones on either side to make driver errors less deadly. Streets, on the other hand, are places where people live, shop, eat and play.  The deadliest roads in America, like a stretch of US-19 on Florida's Gulf Coast, are what he would call "stroads": several lanes of high-speed traffic lined with big-box stores and other businesses that provide a steady stream of cars and trucks pulling in and out of those lanes.  

Of course, the design of such roads isn't the only reason why pedestrian and cyclist injuries and fatalities have increased:  Vehicles have grown bigger and, thus, deadlier.  But Singer and Marohn agree that re-designing roadways will do far more to improve safety for cyclists, pedestrians, people in wheelchairs--and drivers--than focusing solely on the behavior of people who use, or simply try to co-exist, with the road.  As evidence, they point out that the "hot spots" for cyclist and pedestrian fatalities and deaths are found in places as diverse as Port Ritchey, Florida (one of the communities through which US-19 passes), Langley Park, Maryland; Albuquerque, New Mexico; Los Angeles and Manhattan.  But nearly all of them have the kinds of "roads" or "stroads" Marohn warns against.

Intoxicated Driver Kills Two Cyclists On Charity Ride

Six years after one of the most horrific incidents of a motorist mowing down cyclists I've ever heard of, another such incident--if on a smaller scale--has taken place in Michigan.  Aside from taking place in the Wolverine State, the two tragedies have this in common:  an intoxicated driver. 

On Saturday morning, cyclists were in the middle of a Make-A-Wish charity ride that spanned the weekend and state.  Around 11:15 am, the driver of an SUV crossed the highway center line to pass another vehicle. The driver, whose name has not been released, struck five cyclists.  One was pronounced dead at the scene; another was airlifted to Grand Rapids hospital, where he died.  The other three cyclists suffered critical injuries.

The driver was arrested. Authorities are seeking two felony counts of operating while intoxicated, causing death.

Saturday's crash recalls, sadly, the one that killed Debra Ann Bradley, Melissa Ann Fevig-Hughes, Tony Nelson, Larry Paulik and Suzanne Sippel when they were out for a late-day summer ride six years ago.  The driver plowed into them, and other riders (some of whom were injured) while under the influence.  Four years ago, the driver--Charles Pickett, then 52 years old, was sentenced to 40 to 75 years in prison.

A Rock Ring? It Sounds Heavy!

As I've mentioned, I worked on and off in bike shops from the mid-1970s until the mid-1990s.  In one of those shops, I came across a bottom bracket lock ring  tool from Hozan.  Like other tools the Japanese company manufactured at the time, it looked sturdy and functional, if not as refined as its Campagnolo or even Park Tool counterparts.  

But it wasn't the finish or design that I remember.  Rather, it was the package.

It's easy to dismiss "Rock" as a simple typo.  But there are still Americans who mock the Japanese for their difficulty in pronouncing the "L" sound which, as I understand, doesn't exist in Japanese.  So I wondered whether the importer or whoever packaged the wrench was upset that some "Rittre Reague" kids from the Land of the Rising Son beat his son's baseball team in a tournament. 

For Once, Don't Listen To The Talking Heads!

Six years ago, Paris drained its Canal Saint-Martin to clean it, as the city does every fifteen years or so. Although the canal now bisects fashionable streets with chic cafes and shops, it was once bisected a rather gritty working-class area.  But, perhaps to no-one's surprise, the most commonly-found objects found in every canal-draining were wine bottles.

And the second-most common?  Bicycles.  The only difference is that in the most recent cleaning, many of the bikes came from Velib, the City of Light's share program.

Bicycle uncovered during most recent draining of the Canal Saint-Martin.  Photo by Yoan Valat for EPA.

The company that ran Rome's bike-share program abruptly ended its contract because so many of the bikes ended up in the Tiber.  Not exactly what Remus and Romulus had in mind, is it?

Amsterdam has had to resort to "fietsen vissen"--bicycle fishing--because bikes were piled so high in the city's canals that they scraped the flat-bottomed boats.  At one time, freelance scavengers picked them up on poles and sold them for scrap.  In the 1960's, the city's water agency assumed responsibility for the "harvest."  Now a corps of municipal workers trawl for the submerged bikes on boats equipped with cranes attached to hydraulic claw grapples.  The bikes are hauled  to scrapyards for recycling where, according to urban legend, they become beer cans. (Think about that the next time you grab a Heineken or Amstel!)

The phenomenon of bikes "sleeping with the fishes" (I grew up in a Mafia neighborhood. Gotta problem widdat?)  isn't limited to European cities.  In Tokyo, officials decided to drain a large pond in the middle of Inokashira Park to rid it of a non-native species of fish that was causing environmental damage. Their work uncovered another species that wasn't native to the pond:  bicycles.  And, in February 2019, a Citibike appeared--covered with barnacles and blisters--appeared overnight in an Upper West Side docking station. A Hudson River conservancy group expert estimated that evidence--including "oysters on the handlebars" (Upper West Siders pay good money for such things!)--indicated that the machine met its fate in the Hudson the pervious August, or possibly June.

Jody Rosen has just written an article on this phenomenon for the Guardian. It speculates on some of the reasons why so many bikes end up in waterways.  Some are dumped when by fleeing criminals--who are as likely as not to have stolen the bike they're drowning.  Others are tossed or accidentally ridden into the water by drunken revelers.  (Could recycling be contributing, if unintentionally, to bikes ending up in Amsterdam's canals?)  And there are a few instances of folks who "ended it all" by riding into murky waters, as one woman did after handcuffing herself to her machine.

But, as Rosen points out, a bicycle--especially one whose owner is unknown or a corporate entity--is an easy target for people taking out their frustrations.  I suspect that at least a few share bikes were tossed into canals, rivers, lakes and other bodies of water by folks--more than likely, young--who feel lost, alienated, abandoned or simply ignored by their societies, cultures or institutions that control their lives, and over which they feel they have no control.

As a lifelong cyclist, I cannot imagine myself tossing a bike that did nothing wrong to me into the water.  And, as an environmentally-conscious person, I cannot condone throwing anything into a body of water that its native species can't eat.  But, as we've seen, these days, where there are bikes, there are e-bikes.  That, unfortunately, includes waterways, where e-bikes and mopeds are even more of a hazard because of the rare metals and chemicals used in batteries and other components.  

So, if you have a bike, e-bike, moped or scooter you want to get rid of, sell it or donate it. But please don't follow the advice of a Talking Heads song!

A "Karen" Or Just A Jersey City Politican?

Over the years, I have cycled through Jersey City many times. On other occasions, I've also ridden there for some purpose, like work or a show, concert or other event.

But I've never ridden to Jersey City "just because."  I have long felt that it is one of the most bike-unfriendly places in the New York Metropolitan Area.  For one thing, the few bike lanes are even less practical and safe than even the worst ones I've seen in New York City.  One begins near Journal Square and winds up Bergen Avenue, one of the city's major north-south thoroughfares, before ending abruptly.  Along the way, it goes from being a two-way to a one-way lane.  

In most of New York City, if the bike lane is as useless or impractical as the one I've described, I'll just take regular streets. As I've ridden them for decades, I am familiar with traffic patterns and drivers' habits.  Plus, even in the oldest and most remote sections of the city, the streets are usually wide enough to give me at least some room to maneuver through traffic or parked cars.

The option I've described is less available in Jersey City.  The streets are narrower and, I believe, even more congested, as people depend more on motor vehicles, than in my hometown.  

While I don't think the drivers are necessarily more hostile toward cyclists than they are anyplace else.  Rather, I suspect that they are less bike-conscious as, for one thing, there are fewer cyclists and less of a bike culture than there is in some New York City neighborhoods or other locales in the Tri-State Area. Also, being a place where people drive more than they do in the Big Apple, drivers are still imbued with the old attitude that drivers have the primary right to the road: Pedestrians and cyclists are supposed to defer to them. If someone struck by a driver while walking or pedaling, someone is likely to ask what that cyclist or pedestrian was doing on that street.

But not even the least bike-conscious or bike-friendly person is ready to excuse what Amy De Gise did last Tuesday.  Around 8 am, she was driving through an intersection of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard--at first glance, over the speed limit--when she struck cyclist Andrew Black with her Nissan Rouge.

She had the green light.  Black said he thought he had it. Whether he inadvertently or deliberately rode against the light, just about everyone agrees that what she did--or, more precisely, didn't do--next was inexcusable.

Nearly two years ago, a driver "doored" me near the Belmont race track.  To her credit, the driver stayed with me as a passerby--an African American man who was probably around my age--ran to the nearby drugstore, picked up bandages and disinfectants--and treated me until the ambulance arrived.  (I wish I could find out who that man was: I definitely owe him!)  And she cooperated with law enforcement, which made it easy for me to deal with her insurer  (Geico) in paying for the resulting costs. 

Ms. De Gise did not extend similar courtesies to Mr. Black.  She didn't slow down, let alone stop, to check up on him.   Fortunately, he wasn't seriously injured:  He got up and continued riding.  Still, everyone who's commented on the situation agrees that even if he rode through a red light, there was no excuse for what Ms. De Gise what any interpretation of the law would describe as "leaving the scene of an accident."

Amy De Gise strikes Andrew Black at 1:01 of this video.

The cynic in me has two views of her.  One is that she is a common-variety "Karen."  The other, though, is that she was acting out of another kind of entitlement:  She is a council member in a city and state long known for political corruption.  Moreover, she is the daughter of a powerful local politician:  longtime Hudson County Executive Tom De Gise.

Contrast her response to the situation to that of passerby.  According to the Jersey Journal, after his shoes were knocked off his feet and his mangled bicycle skidded to the curb, he gathered himself enough to stand, put on one shoe and hobble to the sidewalk where, 

One woman brought him his other shoe.  People from a corner preschool set down a cooler so he could sit.  Cellphones were whipped out and a small group of people gathered around him to see how he was.  Several vehicles stopped, at least momentarily, and bystanders peered up the block to see what the SUV was doing.

Those folks should be, at the very least, commended.  I am sure everyone agrees with that.  I know that everyone, from public officials to everyday citizens, who have commented on the situation also agree with this:  Amy De Gise must resign.  Until she does, the driver who doored me will have taken more responsibility for what she did than Ms. De Gise has for her action and inaction.

A Chain Of Neglect

Police barricade tapes are bright yellow.  Construction-site cones are orange.  The bollards used to separate bike lanes from the street are finished in similar hues, or white.

Those color choices are not just fashion statements:  They are made for visibility.  It's pretty difficult for most people to claim they didn't see those tapes, cones or bollards.  

On the other hand, you don't have to be color-blind to miss chains--which are almost always dull gray-- drawn across roadways or bike lanes.  This is especially true in low-light conditions, such as night, the beginning or end of day, inclement weather, and under aqueducts, railroad trestles and highway overpasses. 

Such  chains are used to temporarily block off streets or paths for events like street fairs or for construction.  Unfortunately, cities and other jurisdictions that place them often forget to remove them when the event is done or construction work is finished.  Worse, an unsuspecting cyclist or scooter-rider who is paying attention to other road hazards can easily miss them.

The chain that entangled a cyclist--and his bike after the crash. Photo sent by reader of Bike Portland. 

That is what happened to one unfortunate cyclist in Portland, Oregon.  He was riding along North Holladay Street when he passed under the Interstate-5 overpass when he was suddenly entangled in a chain and thrown over his handlebars. He suffered significant injuries to his arm and both wrists.  He also incurred a minor impact to his head that, probably, could have been worse had he not been wearing his helmet.  

The street where he had his mishap, while not as popular for cycling as another nearby street, is nonetheless part of a designated bicycle route. The intersection is adjacent to the Oregon Convention Center. So, according to Bike Portland editor Jonathan Maus, the chain may have been installed to cordon off the street for an event. But, as he points out, that event was long over by the time the unlucky cyclist crashed.

I think that the neglect that led to the cyclist's injuries may have been a result of the auto-centric mentality of city planners.  A chain, debris or some other obstruction--like a sewer grate with wide slats that parallel the curb or divider-- might be mere inconveniences to cars, trucks or buses, but can snag bike tires--or cyclists themselves

I hope that cyclist has a swift and thorough recovery--and, as Maus recommends, city or other government agencies in charge of roadways, bike lanes and other infrastructure pay more attention to seemingly-small details--and basic maintenance.