On The Hook: Old Inner Tubes

Nearly two weeks ago, I mentioned Nicolas Collignon's article, in which he expresses consternation and frustration that "sustainable" urban and transportation planning, too often, doesn't include bicycles.

The other day, I wrote about a rather surprising (in that someone hadn't thought of it earlier) way transportation cycling and sustainability have been integrated:  bike lanes with solar panels in the Netherlands and South Korea.

Today, I am going to present another, if smaller, way in which cycling and sustainability meet.

What I am about to describe is also rather surprising, but not because it hasn't been done before.  Rather, it seems almost-unexpected because it's an idea that seems to be revived and forgotten every few years--and because many people don't remember, or weren't paying attention to, its previous iterations.  What also makes the fact that it's not more common so surprising is that, even with all that we toss, I think we, as cyclists, are more conscious of, and conscientious about, recycling than most of the public.

Lots of replaced bicycle parts are tossed out every day, by shops as well as home mechanics.  Most, I imagine, end up in landfills.  Some, like old cables and housings, are difficult to re-use because the metal is rusted or has lost too much of its strength from the stresses of use.  But other parts can find new life in all sorts of ways.

One such part is an inner tube.  On my Bontrager Race Lite Mountain bike, I strapped a Pedro's under-seat bag made from an old air chamber. In it, I carried--you guessed it--a spare inner tube in addition to a patch kit, tire levers and the great Park mini-multitool. I've seen other accessories made from old tubes and once even wrapped a pair of handlebars in them.

Another way I've used inner tubes are as tie-downs. Think of a bungee cord without the hook:  I've strapped small loads to rear racks and have bound together all manner of items, on and off the bike, for any number of purposes. 

I'm sure I'm not the first to have used old inner tubes in that way.  But it took someone with a more inventive or entrepreneurial mind than my own to come up with the Daily Hook.

It's what it sounds like:  a section of inner tube with a hook at the end of it.

The difference, though, is that the hook is better-made and more practical than any you've seen on a bungee cord:  It's machined from aluminum and fits onto the end of the tubing section through a stainless steel backplate.  I would imagine that it allows the hook to be re-used on another section of tube when the original one fails.

Speaking of which:  Daily Hook's Swiss manufacturer claims--correctly, in my experience--that the tube section will last longer than fabric cords, which have a tendency to unravel or break.  And, if and when the tube does fail, the hook won't get tangled in your spokes or cogs because it has a spring clasp that holds it mechanically to your rack or wherever else you attach it.  Moreover, if your rack is anodized or painted, the finish won't be marred, as the hook is coated in grippy rubber.

The Daily Hook weighs about the same as an elastic cord of the same length.  Its only drawback, as far as I can see, is its price, though if it outlasts a bunch of fabric cords, it could be worth the investment.

And, of course, it gives old inner tubes new life. 

What Will Be Influenced By This Report?

The 1980s gave us, in addition to The Smiths and some really good movies and TV shows, one of the most risible failures and one of the most-needed successes of American public policy.  

The failure is the so-called War on Drugs.  It did little, if anything, to reduce the demand for illicit substances.  If anything, it made criminals, in this country and others, rich and allowed gangs to become the de facto governments of neighborhoods and even, arguably, of whole countries in Latin America and other parts of the world.

Related to it is the success:  the campaign against drunk driving.  The relation of the War on Drugs and the crusade against inebriated driving is the subject of a longer piece of writing that would be far outside the scope of even this blog! Suffice it to say that both policies were two sides of the coin of a kind of puritanism that swept over this country and continues to blanket us today.

Now, I am not condoning drunk driving or, for that matter, the excessive use of any substance, legal or otherwise.  But, while the so-called War on Drugs did nothing to stop people from using or buying--or, for that matter, bring to account those who were responsible for its worst excesses--it can be said that while intoxicated driving hasn't been entirely eliminated, there is almost certainly less of it, and lives have been saved, as a result.

That said, I had a mixed reaction to a report documenting the rise of bike accidents in which the cyclist was under the influence of a drug.  

Because the statute of limitations has expired, I can now say that while some of youthful euphoria came from cycling itself, let's just say that feeling was, ahem, enhanced.  Now, being in middle age, I can tell young people "Do as I say, not as I did."  I really and truly do not recommend riding under the influence of mind-altering substances--even if they come in pint bottles or cans, and even if Dr. Albert Hofmann did it and lived to be 102.

While I laud the intention of the report--if indeed its intention is to call attention to intoxicated cycling and, by implication, warn against it-- I worry that folks who are already anti-cyclist will further demonize us.

You know how that works:  When any member of a minority group (and that's what we are in the US) commits a crime or does anything the rest of society doesn't approve--or is simply accused of such a thing--every member of that person's group is painted with the same broad brush.  

Also, as the report states, many of those cyclists were high or impaired by drugs, including opiods (and, in some states, cannabis) their doctors prescribed.  So were at least some drivers who struck and killed cyclists, including one I reported earlier this month.  But that incident, or others like it, don't cause drivers to be tarred in the way a single incident becomes emblematic of scofflaw cyclists.

So, in brief, while I laud any attempt to bring awareness to the problem of impaired cycling, I hope it isn't used to further marginalize us. 

Where Cycling Really Means "Power To The People"

A bit more than a week ago, I mentioned Nicolas Collignon's article, in which he wonders why bicycles aren't in planners' thoughts about sustainable transportation and other aspects of urban planning.

A bit more than a year ago, I described one of the rare examples in which transportation cycling has been made a part of sustainability planning:  a bike lane with solar panels in--where else?--the Netherlands.

Well, I have just learned of another bike lane with solar panels--in South Korea.  The Asian path, however, is not only much longer (about 32 km vs 330 meters), but also has a very different design from its European counterpart.

The Maartensdijk ribbon has solar cells embedded in its prefabricated concrete blocks.  The lane from Daejeon to Sejong--the country's administrative capital--sits in the middle of a major highway and is segregated, not only from that highway, but (at least in part) from the elements.  That lane is covered by a series of canopies of solar panels, which, its designers say, not only generates clean energy, but also encourages cycling in less-than-ideal weather conditions--and shields melanin-deficient folks like me from the rays that are being harnessed for power.

The Korean bike lane has been open and widely used since 2014.  Given all of the talk about sustainability, I wonder why so little attention has been paid to it.

I also wonder why there aren't more similarly integrative solutions to the problems of sustainability.  And, like Nicolas Collignon, I wonder (actually, I know some of the reasons why, but still...) why bicycles aren't included in the first place, especially here in the US.

A Concrete Example

During the many years I've cycled and worked in bike shops, I've seen plenty of "innovations" that made me wonder, "Why?"

Sometimes, of course, the answer is, "because we can!"  I'm sure would've been the answer from the creators of a concrete bicycle.  

Yes, you read that right:  a bicycle made from the same stuff that lines sidewalks and encases the enemies of organized crime bosses tossed into bodies of water.

Of course, there is no earthly reason for such a bike:  It's too heavy and inefficient to move faster than a crawl.  That's probably a good thing because the bike is too brittle to survive much more of a shock than a crack in one of the sidewalks that could have been made from its material.

At least they gave me a good subject for my weekly "Sunday funnies" series.

Riding Into Their Sunset

The other day, late in the afternoon, I rode to East Williamsburg for my monkeypox booster.  Something told me to be sure I had my lights with me.  Good thing.  On my way back, I made a couple of wrong turns then took a couple of deliberate detours through industrial areas that straddle Brooklyn and Queens.

At that time of day, factories and warehouses close and the evening exodus begins.  On some streets, I zigged and zagged among 18-wheelers, pickup trucks and hipsters on scooters--the latter on their way to clubs found, sometimes, on the same block as, or around the corner from, the workshops where workers--none on scooters--were leaving.

 My wanderings took me to an industrial area on the Queens side--in North Maspeth, to be exact--that I'm not sure any of the scooter crowd is even aware of.  A railroad track that looks like it hasn't been used in decades (but still marked by a sign warning people not to stop or loiter on it) winds  through it:  the factories and warehouses on one side, the worn, sometimes shabby, tenements and small houses occupied, it seems, by families who have been there longer than the factories and warehouses, on the other.  

Whatever outsiders see in a place is almost never seen by those who have always lived in it.  So I wonder what they might have made of me, an outsider--the fact that I was on a bicycle was almost enough, by itself, to mark me as one--taking photos of their sunset.  Or, more important, whether they see the unique light it casts on the tracks and everything it divides.

We Were Doored. It Could Have Been Worse For Him.

Nearly two years ago, I experienced one of a cyclist's worst nightmares:  I was "doored."

At least the woman who opened the door into my path stayed with me as others--including a man who ran across the street to a drugstore for rubbing alcohol and bandages--stayed with me--helped in one way or another.  The woman apologized profusely and called me several times after the incident to see how I was. The worst thing I can say about her is that she was careless.

The same cannot be said for the man who opened his door into the path of Trev Walker.  The British cyclist was pedaling along a road in his native Yorkshire on 2 September when a driver, passing at what appears to be high speed, flung his door into Walker's path, slamming into his left hand.

The incident was recorded for posterity--and the local police--on a camera affixed to the rear of his bike.

Walker is a paramedic, so when he felt pain and saw swelling in his hand, he went for an X-ray.  When the pain didn't subside, he went for another, which revealed a fracture.  He says, "it could have been worse."  But I can just imagine the emotional trauma he might be experiencing:  If he is re-living the incident, it could be worse my reliving my experience because the driver who "doored" him did so deliberately.

But he summed up the seriousness of what happened to him the way I, and others, summed up mine:  Opening a car door on a cyclist could result in someone being killed.

Why Did The Collage Cross The Road?

When I delivered newspapers in New Jersey (more years ago than I’ll admit!), I had to watch for dogs In thar suburban milieu, people let their canines roam in their Un-fenced yards.  Sometimes those pampered pooches didn’t realize—or care—that they were supposed to stay on their human families’ patches of lawn.

Since then, I’ve had to contend with other animals crossing my path—though, thankfully, not attacking me: cats, chipmunks, squirrels, deer, raccoons, snakes, armadillos, macaques and, yea, an elephant.

But never before have I or my bike been stopped by creatures like these:

Connecting Ithaca

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know thar one of my pet peeves is “bike lanes to nowhere “:  ribbons of dirt, concrete or asphalt that begin or end abruptly and do not connect common destinations in any meaningful way.  They are a reason for motorists’ animosity towards cyclists;  As long as bike paths are seen merely as “nice places to ride” rather than transportation conduits, drivers will see us as over-privileged pleasure- or thrill-seekers who are “taking “ their lanes and parking spaces. 

So, I am glad to hear news that Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, secured a Federal grant to connect the Black Diamond and Gateway Trails, two bike lanes on opposite ends of Ithaca, an upstate New York town best known for its gorges and Cornell University.

Where Is His Bike?

Last week, I wrote of a cyclist's nightmare:  a bike falling off a car carrier.  Worse yet, when Dara Gannon turned around to pick up her bike, it was gone.

Another incidence of compound misery befell Nicolas Roche*, the retired Team Sky and BMC rider.  He was on his way home to Monaco from London when his Easy Jet flight was cancelled.  His checked bags--which included his custom-made bicycle--went through, however.

Needing to get home for a work appointment, he took another flight to Nice.  When he arrived, he saw his front door--but not his bags.

Nicolas Roche's custom bike. Photo courtesy of Fifty-One.

The bike, like other custom bikes, is built to his physique and riding style.  But its design also includes graphics including his Irish road race championships, Olympic participation and Vuelta a Espana stage victories, which means it can't be mistaken for any other. 

Still, eleven days later, no airline or airport employee seems to have any idea of where his bike might be.  Worse, EasyJet told him that because he flew to Nice, it is now the responsibility of that city's airport to locate the bike, despite all evidence indicating that his machine is--assuming it hasn't been "found"--still in Gatwick Airport. 

Roche explained that because he was trying to travel lighter than he normally does, he used different bags for his bike, kit and other items from what he'd used previously. So, in his haste, he didn't put any tracking tags on those bags, as he has done with his other bags. 

Unfortunately, Roche's ordeal is hardly unique.  With the return of mass air travel, understaffed airlines and airports are cancelling and re-routing flights.  That has resulted in record amounts of lost luggage--including the bikes of a Canadian pro rider on his way to the Tour de France.  

*--Nicolas Roche is indeed the son of Stephen Roche, the 1980s Tour de France and Giro d'Itaila winner.

A Weekend With Dee-Lilah

I decided to spend the weekend with Dee-Lilah, my custom Mercian Vincitore Special.  There was no particular reason why I chose to ride her.  She is a special bike because I gave her to myself for a round-number birthday, but like anything special, I shouldn't need a special occasion to enjoy her.

All right...Saturday was, save for the wind, one of the best days, weather-wise, I've experienced in a while.  I chose to pedal to Point Lookout because it meant pedaling into the wind on my way out and riding the wind on my way home.  Dee-Lilah liked that idea, too.

The conditions surrounding our ride were of the kind one encounters for a few days around this time of year, between the unofficial and official ends of summer.  The day's high temperature was only a couple of degrees higher than the water (74 F or 23F), so some people swam or at least waded into the water.

Also, the sun shone but didn't bear down on me.  So, I didn't need to use quite as much sunscreen as I'd needed on other recent rides.  Thus, while I didn't feel drained as I often do after riding under unfiltered sunlight, I needed to drink as much water as I would on a hot day, because the wind brought dry air with it.

Yesterday was a bit warmer and I woke up later.  So I simply wandered along the waterfronts, and through some of the back streets, of a few Queens and Brooklyn neighborhoods.  Dee-Lilah thought the light around the Statue of Liberty and Valentino Pier flattered her.  I agreed.

This weekend was not a special occasion. But, with Dee-Lilah, it was a Dee-Light!

Our Bikes, Our Selves?

Do bicycles reflect their riders?

Or do cyclists  mirror their machines? 

Why Don't They Include Bicycles?

One of the more interesting (to me, anyway) ironies of my life is that I often ride in or through Flushing Meadow-Corona Park, the site of the 1964-65 World's Fair. 

My now-vague memories of having attended with my parents and younger siblings (whose memories are probably even vaguer than mine, if they have any at all!) include visions of flying cars and sidewalks that weren't because, well, people didn't walk:  They were conveyed on belts to their destinations.

It was a time when progress was depicted as inevitable, limitless and always aided and abetted by technologies that made our daily lives less arduous--and took ever-greater quantities of resources.  Nuclear energy would be the power source of the future because advances in its technology would render it "too cheap to meter." In those days, "sustainable" was not part of planners' vocabularies.

Sometimes I wonder just how much we've moved on from such thinking.  In his article for Next City, Nicolas Collignon points out that even as cities like New York  Paris Milan and Bogota invest in bike lanes and other incentives to trade four wheels and one pedal for two wheels and two pedals, too much of today's planning is based on such innovations as self-driving cars and flying delivery drones. At the same time, according to Collignon, too many planners neglect the role bicycles can play in making cities more livable, sustainable and affordable.

So why do planners have such a blind spot for our favorite means of transportation and, well, just having fun?  Well, since you, dear readers, are smart people, you probably have the answer:  money.  Specifically, where the money comes from:  automotive and high-tech companies, which have much deeper pockets than any in the bicycle industry.  

Photo by Francois Mori

Of course, those auto and tech companies--even the ones that tout themselves as "green"--have ties to the fossil fuel and military (given our recent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, I cannot call it "defense") industries.  That may be a reason why those planners have similar blind spots to the effects clean-looking technologies and "cleaner" automobiles actually have--or why they bought Uber and Lyft's sales pitch that their services would reduce traffic.  If you live in almost any major city, you can see how much that prophecy has come to pass. 

I also can't help but to think that those companies--and, sometimes, the urban planners themselves--are, openly or covertly, stoking drivers' resentments toward cyclists.

British Cycling Told Them To Stop For The Queen

If a US President were to die in office and your club told you not to ride during his/her/their funeral, would you?

When William Henry Harrison and Zachary Taylor succumbed to illness (Harrison just a month after taking the oath of office) and Abraham Lincoln was shot, bicycles weren't, well, bicycles as we know them.  

At the time James Garfield was shot (only four months after he assumed his role), the US and Europe were on the eve of their first bike booms.  A few years later, "safety" bicycles (with two wheels of more or less equal size and chain-driven gearing) would displace high-wheelers and fuel the fin de siecle bike craze.  A few years after that, at the dawn of the new century, William McKinley would suffer the same fate as Lincoln and Garfield.  Bicycling was still a major part of American, European and other economies and cultures. But I could find no records of any club or public official's recommendation that people not ride their bikes during those Presidents' funerals or other memorials.

By the time Warren G. Harding died of a sudden heart attack, in the 1920s, the automobile had mostly displaced the bicycle as a primary means of transportation and recreation in the US.  There were still, however, a significant number of adult cyclists and six-day races would develop an enthusiastic following.  But, as with the deaths of Garrison and McKinley, I could find no calls not to ride.

That I could find no such pleas following the deaths of Franklin D. Roosevelt and John F. Kennedy is not surprising:  When FDR died, the US was entering what Sheldon Brown called its "Dark Ages" of cycling; when JFK was assassinated, the nation was a few years away from emerging out of that benighted era.  

When Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme tried to kill Gerald Ford, the 1970s Bike Boom had recently crested; when John Hinckley tried to end Ronald Reagan's presidency, the Boom had ended but millions of American adults were still cycling.  Had Ford and Reagan not survived those attempts, would any clubs (which were numerous by then) have told their members not to pedal to work or school, or for training or fun?

Now, you might be wondering why I am asking such questions.  It's not because today is a "slow news day" or I'm not riding.  Rather, I read that British Cycling called on its country's citizens not to ride their bicycles during Queen Elizabeth II's funeral scheduled for Monday.  

Photo by Stephen Fleming

Of course, cyclists of all kinds did not take kindly to this recommendation:  One cyclist said it was "worthy of the Stasi."  A bike commuter pointed out that ceremonies "coincide with my working hours." Others called it a "joke" or "farce" or referred to it in even less flatering terms.

British Cycling later admitted that it erred and apologized for any harm or inconvenience it caused to cyclists, especially those who rely on their bikes for transportation or their livings. The organization then amended its recommendation to say that official events should be cancelled, but individuals should be free to ride.

Two Drivers Struck Cyclists. One Is Being Held To Account

Last week, I wrote about Charles Criniere, the Kansas City teacher and father of 10 who was killed by a hit-and-run driver.  

On one hand, I faulted the design of the lane he rode:  It ends with a sudden merge into a multilane road. But, as too often happens in such tragedies, the driver's behavior was, shall we say, less than exemplary.

Wisconsin resident Kyrie Fields admits that she’d taken her eyes off the road to text a friend when she struck Criniere.  As if such indifference to anyone else who might’ve been on the road weren’t bad enough, she took off after she struck him.

She left the scene.  But her car left some of its parts. Detectives used them to determine that the vehicle was a white Acura MDX.  They found the rest--or, I should say, the remains--of it the following day. According to detectives, it looks as if had been set ablaze.

Oh, but what I’ve described so far isn’t the only reason to vilify her.  In addition to being distracted, she was high on Percocet when she struck Criniere.  And, upon arresting her, authorities found that she’d been driving with a suspended license and without insurance.

Distraction.  Intoxication.  And, ahem, a less-than-sterling driving record.  Those—and even-less-sterling records of citizenship—are, too often, common denominators of motor vehicle-on-bicycle crashes.  In short, the perpetrators aren’t exactly pillars of society.

Speaking of which…Amy DeGise, the Jersey City Council member who plowed into a cyclist (who, fortunately, suffered only minor injuries) has become more defiant in her determination not to apologize, let alone resign. Like other motorists who’ve struck cyclists (some of whom I’ve mentioned in this blog), her bio includes a litany of other offenses:  She has an unregistered vehicle and numerous unpaid tickets and lives in subsidized housing intended for families earning a third of what she, as a single childless woman, makes.

While some officials and many ordinary citizens have called for her resignation, too many other officials—including New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy—have not joined that chorus.  I can’t help but to think that they are afraid of her father, a longtime Hudson County Executive who is one of the Garden State’s most powerful politicians.

A Wall Across A Bike Lane--In Portland

Sometimes I won't use a bike lane because it is poorly-conceived, -built or -maintained.  Other times, as is often the case on the Queensborough-59th Street Bridge lane, it's simply too narrow and crowded, especially with ebikes and motorized scooters.  Or the lane may simply not go in the direction I need to go--or doesn't go anywhere at all.

I've mentioned those reasons in other post, along with the fact that some drivers park or pass--sometimes out of spite--in the lanes.  Also, cops often plant their patrol cars in them as they're taking breaks.  

There's another reason that I don't believe I've mentioned:  debris and obstacles, sometimes deliberately placed.  They range from broken bottles, tacks and nails to bricks, cinderblocks and larger objects.  Lately, someone built an actual wall across a bike lane in Portland, Oregon.

No one is sure of who built it, but some have observed that its architect and constructers must have been "amateurs."  While that could have made the structure even more hazardous than it could have been, it made the barrier easier to take apart.  

Remnants of the wall built across the N Concord bike path in Portland. (Photo by Jonathan Maus)

There is another interesting twist to this story, though.  In Portland, relationships between cyclists and non-cyclists are as contentious as they are in other place in the US.  But the wall's construction may have had little or nothing to do with antipathy toward cyclists.  Rather, it seems to have been placed to block a passage that connects two parts of the Overbrook neighborhood.  Homeowners live on one side; homeless encampments stand on the other.

So...The construction of the wall may have been illustrative of just how politicized not only the United States, but local communities, have become.  While the target may have been homeless people, but cyclists became collateral damage, if you will, whether or not that was the wall builder's (or builders') intention.

 

Bike Falls Off Car On Way To Ride For Fallen Officers

As cyclists, there are things we fear happening to ourselves and our bikes.

As for what can happen to ourselves, the dire scenarios almost always involve crashes and injuries.  Perhaps the biggest fear for anyone who rides in traffic--as I, a city dweller, do almost daily--is getting "doored."  It's happened to me three times--once when I was riding in a bike lane, and the worst incident two years ago, which resulted in 30 stitches.

Then there is the fear of what can happen to our bikes.  Some scenarios, like crashes, can damage or destroy both our bodies and bikes.  But when it comes to what can befall the bicycle, theft might be the primary concern for many cyclists.

Another nightmare scenario has less chance of happening to me because I don't drive.  But, on those occasions when I've gone to a ride with someone who does, I worry when my bike is attached to a rack, no matter how solid.   Bumper racks expose bikes to more harm because, well, another car bumping the bikes instead of the bumper will have more dire consequences for the bikes than the bumper.  But even on the best roof racks, there is a chance of something knocking the bike off.

I don't know which kind of rack Dara Gannon was using when she drove to a three-day training ride.  She was preparing for a Massacusetts-to-Washington DC ride that honors police officers killed in the line of duty, one of whom was her husband.  

The Yarmouth, Massachusetts resident saw her white Specialized road bike with "Gannon" stickers on it fly off her car.  As if that weren't bad enough, when she turned around to retrieve it, it was gone.

Dara Gannon with her bike.

Not surprisingly, the police in her Cape Cod community have taken interest in her case.  She and they hope that whoever "found" the bicycle will return it, as it means more than just a pair of wheels and pedals to her:  She has used it for other rides like the one for which she was training.

Anyone with information about her bike can call Chief Frederickson at 508-775-0445, ext. 2156, or e-mail him at ffrederickson@yarmouth.ma.us. 

A Feast In More Ways Than One

 Saturday was warm, sunny and breezy.  Even though Monday, Labor Day, was the “unofficial “ end of summer, people flocked to the beaches. I followed them—by bicycle, of course.  On Vera, my Mercian fixed-gear, to be exact.

However we got there, the conditions were all but perfect for however one chose to enjoy the sand and water, as this couple did in Point Lookout.

There are some people, however, who make me wonder why they bothered to  go:

However you go and whatever you do when you get there, you need sustenance.

I’ve passed that house, on an Ocean Boulevard closed to traffic, many times.  But I’d never seen that giant squash.  Vines with those plants covered the side of that house. There was even an audio description of that plant species.

Of course I didn’t pick the squash.  I’d packed some Ghirardelli’s dark chocolate and a few strawberries.  They were great and the day nourished my psyche.

A Generation After The Ones Who Didn't Come Home

Today, I am not going to treat or subject (depending on your point of view) you to my "Sunday funnies" feature.

Rather, I am taking this opportunity to commemorate the 21st anniversary of the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks, and the downing of a flight in Pennsylvania.

This anniversary is significant because at the age of 21, most people in most parts of the world have all or most of the rights and responsibilities of an adult.  So, some might argue, a whole generation has been born since that terrible day.

I also can't help, as a long-ago bike messenger, to think of all of those messengers and other workers--including firefighters and other first responders and office workers in the Towers--who never made it home that day. I am also thinking of those who were spared because they had the day off, were late or were on their way when their train or bus came to a halt.

And there are the bikes that were never retrieved.

  

Bike rack at the 9/11 Memorial

Restfulness, I Hope

The other day, a late-afternoon ride along familiar routes turned into more of a journey than I imagined it could be.

Along the Malcolm X Promenade (formerly the Flushing Bay Promenade), workers who didn't have a "break room" were doing the best they could to take a break from work much harder than mine:

They were reclining by the water, in the way people can recline only when they're by the water.  A few miles away, in Fort Totten, I saw upright structures in, and by, the water.

Nearby, in Crocheron Park, Golden Pond allowed me, for a moment, to pretend that I'm Monet.

I hope that the men I saw early in my ride got their well-deserved rest--and, just as important, the calm I felt seeing the sailboats in the bay and blooms in the pond.

So She Goes

 Today I am going to do something you probably hoped I wouldn't do:  Talk about an event you've surely heard about. To do that, I will invoke the Howard Cossell rule.

The event in question is, of course, the death of Queen Elizabeth II.  It was reported yesterday but, according to some rumors, she had already passed when her illness was reported and the news was withheld because of the transfer of the Prime Minister's office from Boris Johnson to Liz Truss. (I never could get away with giving a name like that to a character in a novel!)  While I don't normally truck in conspiracy theories, I think there may be something to that one--or the ones about Lady Diana's death.

Anyway, what does "the end of an era" mean, exactly?

Well, I have to say there is something to be said for someone who stays in the same job for 70 years.  Never mind that she didn't have to post her resume on Linkedin or subject herself to a committee interview on Zoom (or much of anything)—or that she got her job because of, shall we say, her connections. (A wise guy— I mean, a sage—once said, “Nepotism?  Keep it in the family!”) Even if I live as long as bicycles have existed and work until the end, I won't achieve such a milestone.

Then-Princess Elizabeth (r) with her sister Margaret, circa 1945.

And it's true that she met, probably, hundreds of world leaders.  It's fair to ask, though, how much influence she actually had on them.  On the other hand, it's also fair to ask how much influence she had on the ways the world changed during her reign.  Britain entered and left the European Union and lost colonies during that time. But she can't be blamed or credited for those events if for no other reason than, as I believe George Bernard Shaw quipped, the sun never sets on the British Empire because it never rose over it in the first place.

Some might argue that the reason why she's so important is simply that she's been the Queen through all of my life and those of most people living today. In fact, on the occasion of another anniversary of Elizabeth ascending to the throne, my mother told me that her coronation was one of the first things she and her family watched on their then-new television set. 

Her longevity might be, paradoxically, the reason why I never thought much about her.  Of course, being American and therefore never having been one of her subjects, I have an excuse.  Still, because I speak English, have a British relative, studied English Literature (yes, with a capital L) as an undergraduate, ride bicycles from one of the last traditional British builders (Mercian), and count among one of my most loyal readers an English woman who lives in Scotland,  one might expect that I'd think more about the Queen.

Oh, and  one of my favorite bands has long been Queen and I live in, yes, Queens.

So will--or should--I mourn the death of Queen Elizabeth II?  The answer to both is "yes," if only for two reasons: King Charles and Queen Camilla.

King. Fucking. Charles.   Queen. Fucking. Camilla.

Well, it's not as bad as having Trump for President, I guess.  

A Bike Lane To His Death

In earlier posts, I have lamented "bike lanes to nowhere."  They start or end without warning or don't provide safe or convenient routes to any place a cyclist--whether he or she is pedaling for transportation, recreation or training--might actually want or need to go.  Such lanes, I have argued, will do nothing to encourage people to trade four wheels and one pedal for two wheels and two pedals, even for short trips.

The worst such "lanes to nowhere" are not mere inconveniences; they are veritable deathtraps.  Such ribbons of illusory safety end by merging into traffic. The most perilous paths of all lead cyclists onto multiple lanes of cars, SUVs, trucks and other motorized vehicles traveling at high speed.  In the most dire of scenarios, there is no way for cyclists to avoid such a merge and no other way to anywhere else but the road onto which the path merges.

Although I have never seen it, I feel confident that my description fits the Longview Lake loop in Kansas City.  Longtime cyclist Athol Barnes' delight at the Loop's construction was muted because he noticed exactly the flaw I've described. As cyclists approach the intersection of SW Longview Road from the north, along View High Drive, the bike lane runs out past the intersection of East 109th Street, forcing cyclists to merge onto the road with drivers.

Charles Criniere (in cap) with his wife Megan and nine of his ten children.

He became especially worried about that merge after he encouraged his friend, Charles Criniere to start riding.  The middle-school teacher and father of 10 started by accompanying Barnes on early-morning rides during which they talked about the things that mattered to them:  family, faith, youth and eighth-grade math students. 

Criniere quickly gained cycling savvy, but Barnes' worst fears came true the Saturday before last.  Around 6:15 am, police were called to the intersection I mentioned earlier in this post.  A vehicle, which police believe to be a white Acura MDX, fled the scene.

Criniere was declared dead.  Police are looking for the driver.

In this photo, the photographer, Jeremy Van Deventer rides past a memorial for Charles Criniere.

Although he is glad the city is creating more bike lanes, Barnes also knows--and this incident confirms--what I've long known:  All else being equal, cyclists are safer on the road, and the real hazards are drivers, who aren't cognizant of, or are hostile to, cyclists and are driving bigger vehicles faster and distractedly.

I'll Bet You've Never Had A Ride Home Like This One

Ya gotta love Ukraine.  In the worst moments of its recent history--its invasion by Russia-- its citizens have been resourceful and resilient.  They  even make us smile.

Case in point:  Chichi was found wandering the streets of Kharkiv, the country's second-largest city.  It makes sense that she was disoriented:  She's a chimpanzee who escaped from the city zoo.

Now, I can understand her, or any other animal's, wanting to bolt from such confinement.  Such a desire is particularly understandable when you realize that she'd been transferred to that zoo from Feldman Park, an outdoor preserve on the war's frontlines. 

But she is no safer roaming an unfamiliar city in a warzone than any human would be.  If anything, she's in more danger, as she doesn't know her way around and doesn't speak Ukranian or Russian.

Oh, and she didn't have an umbrella.  And it started to rain.

That's when she spotted, and ran to, one of the zoo's keepers.  They embraced.  The keeper slung a yellow rain slicker over the animal--and propped her on the seat of a bicycle.

Now Chichi's ride is over and she's back in the zoo.  But even though it's more secure than Feldman Park, neither she nor the keeper are out of danger:  Several volunteers who helped to evacuate the animals have been killed during Russian attacks.

Whatever happens, I suppose Chichi won't ever forget her bike ride.

Could A Charity Ride Break Up Their Club?

 Imagine that you’re going to ride in another country. (You like this post so far, right?) You arrive at your destination, go to pick up your bike and…a customs officer says you have to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars or euros or pounds (or its equivalent) to be reunited with your wheels.

That is the nightmare scenario faced a Welsh club faced. They were on their way to do a charity ride in Spain that had been postponed by COVID.

The Tap It Out Cycling club had raised more than 16000 GBP for Prostate Cymru. Perhaps not surprisingly, some members have prostate cancer, so the ride was a personal quest.

Some of the riders flew to Spain and sent their bikes ahead of them, by ferry.  When they went to pick up their bikes, border police told them they had to pay an 8500€ (7300£) tariff. 

Since Brexit, goods from Wales, which is part of the United Kingdom, have been subject to import fees.  The Spanish customs officials were not willing to consider the riders’ appeal that they were not “importing “ the bikes.  “It never entered our minds that we were going to sell bikes or be accused of selling bikes,” said group leader Nicky Morgan.

Nicky Morgan

He went on to relate that the club raised money from the club’s coffers to pay for the bikes and commence their ride. But, unless they win their appeal and get their money back, they will have to “fold the club, shut it down,” according to Morgan.