A Problem That Grates On Us

The Villages is, as the name suggests, a complex of communities in north-central Florida, about an hours' drive from Orlando.

It's been described, both affectionately and derisively, as "Disney World for Boomers."  In reality, it's a planned community for retirees that seems, like others in the Sunshine State, to be built around golf courses.

According to a story that circulated in the media about a decade ago, The Villages had the highest rate of STDs in the USA.  While public health policy experts and health care professionals who have worked there and in other places have debunked that narrative, another stereotype about The Villages seems to hold true: In both the 2016 and 2020 Presidential elections,  Probably no other place voted as overwhelmingly for Donald Trump.

And, from a couple of accounts that have crossed my desk, I would infer that The Villages are like too many other jurisdictions, especially in so car-friendly Florida:  the safety of cyclists  doesn't seem to be a priority.

The area's auto-centricity has something to do with that.  So, I suspect do The Villages Operating Company and Sumter Landing Community Development District which, respectively, operate the complex and Collier, one of the Villages.

They are challenging a suit filed by James Heizer.  Two years ago, he says, he flipped over his handlebars when his bicycle tire was lodged in a sewer grate.

It's exactly the sort of accident I fear whenever I see sewer grates with slats that run parallel to the curb--or ones that have large gaps between them and the pavement.  I don't know whether the Villages uses either sort of grate, but they are the only ones in which I can imagine a bicycle tire becoming "lodged."

If that is the case, one can only hope that, in addition to reimbursing Heizer for his medical bills and other losses, that the sewer grates are replaced.  

A Path To A Fall Ride

 Question of the day:  Which is rarer:  an annular solar eclipse or a weekend day without rain?

Well, the celestial event wouldn’t have been visible in my part of the US, even if meteorological ones would’ve permitted it.

So the eclipse keeps that title—for now. Moreover, we yesterday we had—wait for it—a beautiful Fall day that kept the “Sun” in “Sunday.”

(I’ve heard that someone pointed to the glowing orb in the sky, nudged the man next to her and asked, “What’s that, Mulder?”)

So, I did what any right-thinking cyclist would do.  Yes, I went for a ride;  specifically to Greenwich, Connecticut on La-Vande, my King of Mercia.

Not only was the weather delightful in the way only the day after a rainstorm can be; everything—from the early fall hues to roads that seemed hewn for riding—seemed to conspire for a great ride.

Even the path through Pelham Bay Park seemed to be made for an October ride.

Cyclist, Covered

 Lately, I haven’t seen many people wearing masks.  I have to admit that I stopped wearing them a while back—until a week ago, when I donned one while awaiting the results of a COVID test. (Negative.) I’d been in proximity to someone who was infected and I was playing it safe. 

I found myself thinking back to the early days of the pandemic, when you hardly ever saw anyone’s face. Even some cyclists covered their noses and mouths. (I carried a mask when I rode and pulled it on when I stepped into a coffee shop or some other place.)

I don’t believe, however, that many cyclists concealed themselves in this way:

An After-Work Ride Falls Into Sunset

The other day, I took Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic on an after-work ride in Jersey City, Bayonne and Staten Island.  

I just missed a Staten Island Ferry to Manhattan.  The day was Classic Fall—clear, cool and crisp and I’d brought a book I’ve been reading (yes, a real book—nothing digital!) so I didn’t mind the wait—12 minutes, as it turned out—for the next boat.

That delay was rewarding—in an aesthetic sense, anyway.  What I witnessed from the deck of that ferry boat made me wish that my camera were as old-school (i.e. with film) as my book. Or, better yet, that I had an easel and palette.

There hardly could have been  a better ending to a Classic Fall day—and ride.  Some people say autumn sunsets are the most beautiful of all. I wouldn’t argue with them.

After I disembarked in Battery Park, twilight flickered to my left as I pedaled by the South Street Seaport, across the Williamsburg Bridge and up through the neighborhood for which the bridge is named to my place in Astoria.

A Path To My Recent Past

For about three years, a bike lane has lined Crescent Street, about 10 meters from my apartment.  In previous posts, I have expressed mixed-to-negative feelings about the lane: It’s not well thought-out or constructed and is now overrun with motor scooters.  

Crescent Street

And, lately, there’s been building destruction and construction along Crescent. The lane is therefore blocked or is crossed by workers bearing girders. That means  cyclist pedaling north on the lane has to detour onto the sidewalk—unless, of course, that’s also blocked—or squeeze between the contractors’ trucks and the southbound traffic. (Crescent is a one-way street.)

23rd Street 

So, lately, I’ve been doing what I did before the lane was constructed:  To reach the RFK Bridge or any other point north of my apartment, I’ve been riding 23rd Street, a one-way northbound thoroughfares that parallels Crescent.

Fighting A "Culture War" They Can't Win (I Hope)

There are moments that change history.  Everyone knows some of them; others, we think we know.  Then there are the ones that, while documented, are forgotten even though their significance is both deep and broad.

We've all heard the story of how Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the Castle Church door in Wittenberg, Germany five centuries ago.  While almost no one doubts he actually wrote the theses--and he sent copies of them to church and political officials--the story about him hanging them on a church door is in doubt.

On the other hand, there is a video of an unknown taxi driver who, perhaps unwittingly, launched the movements for sustainable transportation and economies--and the backlash against them that has launched a culture war between drivers and cyclists, among other people.

In 1972, the unnamed livery driver was incensed that his "right" to drive wherever he wanted was "taken" from him by city officials who had the temerity to close off a street.  Why would such overbearing functionaries arrogate unto themselves the authority to keep someone like him from driving down a thoroughfare paid for with his taxes?

Well, if the answer is that the driver in this story paid a larger share of his income in taxes than his counterparts in other places, it would be almost understandable.  Somehow, though, I don't think that he was preoccupied with that fact. Like many drivers, he simply wanted to take the shortest, most direct and convenient, route to wherever he was going.  If he were being paid per-trip rather than per-hour, his frustration would have been a bit more understandable, if not justifiable.

But I think he simply was impatient in the ways drivers often are:  I guess it can be frustrating to have something that can get you somewhere quickly and with minimal effort, only to be stalled by something, animate or not, that doesn't "belong" in the roadway.

That something, in the driver's way was a set of barricades.  Their purpose?  To designate a "children's only" street.

Perhaps it had something to do with having children--perhaps the ones who would have been on that street--that led citizens of that city to denounce the driver and push for safer streets for pedestrians, cyclists and other non-motorized travelers.

That city was Amsterdam which, in 1972, was as choked with auto traffic as many other European capitals.  Now, of course, it's known as one of the world's most bike- and pedestrian-friendly cities, and has led the way--along with cities like Copenhagen--in developing walkable, cycleable city centers.  

That taxi driver may never be as famous for pulling down barricades as Martin Luther was for (allegedly) hanging up what might have been the world's first viral message.  He did, however, ignite a culture war that has been largely won by those he fought against.  Such a story gives me hope because in more car-centric places, the reactionaries (who abound in, but are not limited to, conservative political factions) are riling up their constituents  against an imagined "war on cars" from the borough of Queens, NYC (where I live) to Queenborough, UK and Queensland, Australia.

We are a nation of drivers.

Most of us use a car every day and, for many, life would be difficult without their car.

But too often, drivers feel under attack.

That changes today with a long-term plan to improve drivers' experience on the road.

Here’s how 👇🧵 pic.twitter.com/yJvotPyyYy

— Rishi Sunak (@RishiSunak) September 30, 2023

  Those would-be defenders of the diesel tend to be older, while those who don't want to spend three hours of their day driving to work and parking tend to be younger, in chronology and, like yours truly, in spirit---even if I am in, ahem, midlife!  

My Pride

Today I am asserting my right as an Italian American to celebrate Indigenous People’s Day.

I take that back:  I am executing my duty to so observe this day.

You see, I come from a group of people that gave the world Michelangelo, Leonardo, Dante, Bocaccio and Galileo.  And Armani.  And Versace.  And Sophia Loren. And Paola Pezzo.  And Fausto Coppi.  Oh, and Campagnolo.

So how did a guy who got lost become a symbol of Italian pride?  I mean, I get lost all the time and no one has ever celebrated Justine Valinotti Day.

So, in keeping with the spirit of this day, and blog, I will leave you with this image of Alexis Vazquez and their partner Nanette Bayale.  Two years ago, after participating in Pedalpalooza, they organized an Indigenous/Native Peoples Ride:

Channeling Hinault? LeMond? Mondrian?

 What made it so popular?

It probably didn’t hurt that two cyclists who won, between them, eight Tours de France and a bunch of other races, wore it.

Nor did its design:  With its echoes of Mondrian, it still looks good nearly four decades later. A company that pioneered the kinds of pedals and helped to popularize the kinds of frames nearly all racers—and many wannabes—ride today used a similar design in its logo.

That company is Look.  The jersey in question is that of the La Vie Claire team.  I rode the jersey—and the pedals—in my youth.

I’m not surprised that the jersey is reproduced to this day.  Nor does it provoke consternation in me that an illustrator would be inspired by it:

It Folds. But It Won’t Come Tumbling Down.

 Last week, I wondered whether the folks at the World Meteorological Association were joking when they named a storm that dumped eight inches (20cm) in a day after a Shakespeare character who drowns.

Today I am going to question another naming choice.  Specifically, I have to ask why someone would name a folding bike after a structure whose walls came tumbling down.

No, I am not talking about Jericho.  And its designer isn’t named Joshua.  Nor is he named Donatien-Alphonse-François.

That last name, however, leads to a clue about the designer’s identity. D-T-F was the Comte de Sade, better known as the Marquis.  One of the world’s longest-running urban legends has it that he was in the confines of those walls when an angry mob stormed them.This myth has persisted even though he was transferred to another facility ten days before the revolt, probably because his most (in)famous work was later found in the rubble.

That facility is, of course, the Bastille prison. The bike in question is one that I might want to try:  It folds but, unlike Dahon, Brompton and other portables, the Bastille velo has full-size (27.5 inches, a.k.a 29ers). It would thus avoid one of the problems with smaller-wheeled bikes that caused me to sell my Dahon a year after I bought it:  getting caught in potholes.

To be fair, designer Gilles Henry—who also created the Voyo folding baby stroller—probably was thinking of the Bastille’s seeming indestructability:  It was a fortress before it became a prison.  Or he may realize that to many people, the name evokes the Place and Opera named for it and the fashionable cafés and shops that surround it.

Does He Understand Why People Don’t Cycle to Work?

 

Jalopnik is ostensibly about cars and “transportation.”  Quite a few of its articles, however, seem to be anti-bike rants in the guise of “reporting” about cyclists’ actual and perceived transgressions against motorists.

Then there is Owen Bellwood’s article, published yesterday.  The title—“0f Course People Don’t Want to Bike to Work”—is a clue to the tone, if not the content, of his article.

For a few paragraphs, Bellwood seems to be on the right track.  He cites poor infrastructure—including bike parking (or lack thereof), showers or other facilities for cleaning and changing clothes at workplaces (again, or lack thereof) and bike lanes—as a major reason why people in New York and other American cities won’t bike to work. He also mentions drivers who use bike lanes for passing, parking or picking up or discharging passengers or packages.

Bellwood also correctly identifies the poor design and pure-and-simple muddled thinking behind too many bike lanes.  As he wryly notes, “It’s not good enough to have a bike painted in the road to warn cars that a cyclist might come through.” And he echoes an observation I’ve made in previous posts: “[W]e can definitely do better than a few floppy plastic bollards separating a cyclist from a 4000 pound pickup truck.”

He sums up by saying that “space” is “all that cyclists are asking for.” We need “space on the road and space to park up,” he says.  I agree with him on those points. But he also falls into a common misperception that I once shared:  Educating drivers will help to improve cycling safety.  I know that many unfortunate encounters between drivers and cyclists result from motorists’ lack of awareness of what safe cycling actually entails, which doesn’t always align with motorists’ perceptions. On the other hand, many more cyclists are maimed or killed by road rage or drivers who simply don’t care about anyone but themselves.

That latter category of drivers won’t be changed through “education.” Though not uniquely American, such drivers are more common in the US because of our car-centered and individualistic culture. Bellwood can be forgiven, I believe, for not understanding as much—and that such motorists won’t be “cured” through “education”- because he is an Englishman.  But I also believe that at least his cultural background—and his familiarity with cycling culture in his home nation as well as countries like Denmark—gives him an awareness of how things could be better in my hometown and home country of New York and the USA.

Bringing Us Our Daily Bread

People curse and depend on them.  I'm talking about those food delivery workers on e-bikes who weave, at breakneck speeds, through traffic and buzz pedestrians and cyclists.  People complain when they're nearly struck, or simply scared, by those couriers whom they expect to bring pizza, tacos, General Tso's chicken, sushi or pad thai to their doors within 15 minutes after placing their orders.  And, since most of those delivery workers are paid by the number of deliveries they make, and depend on tips, they will continue to rush within a hair's breath of anyone who's walking or pedaling in "their" bike lane.  As much as that annoys, exasperates and freaks me out, I try not to be too angry with them:  After all, many of them are supporting families here and in their native countries (nearly all are immigrants, many of them undocumented) and have limited job opportunities because they speak English poorly or not at all and may have educational or professional credentials that aren't recognized here.

Still, as much as I respect their work ethic,  I have to admit that no delivery worker I've seen has anything on this one in Cairo, Egypt:

#video
bread delivery in Cairo 🥖
🚲#ifb #SaturdayKitchen #Food #bicycle pic.twitter.com/dxqQBUr64R

— You Must Do✍️SURVEYS (@youmustdo1) August 14, 2021

The Ghosts At Norwich

  “Ghost” bikes originated in Amsterdam during the 1960s. Anarchists painted bicycles white and left them on the streets for people to use.

Around the turn of this century, artists began to make “ghost” bikes from abandoned bikes, some of which were stripped of their parts.  They were purely artistic expressions until October 2003, when Patrick Van Der Tuin placed a white-painted bike and a sign reading “Cyclist Struck Here” on a St. Louis street. 

Within a couple of years, “ghost” bike monuments began to appear on streets in New York and other American cities. Soon afterwards, they started to show up in other parts of the world.

Nearly all of those monuments have been placed on or near the sites where cyclists were struck by motorized vehicles.  Members of the Norwich Cycling Campaign decided that members of their English city’s council need a daily reminder of the six cyclists who have been killed on city streets this year.  So, Campaign placed six “ghost” bikes outside the Council’s offices.

“Each of the white bikes symbolizes a failure to keep people safe on our roads,” declared Campaign chair Peter Silburn. He added,  “These deaths are not accidents, they are the result of policies that prioritize the convenience of car drivers over people’s safety.”

The Campaign wants the city to install more cycle lanes, lower speeds on urban roads and fewer cars. I hope the “ghost” bike installation helps to deliver the message—and results.

Riding In Ophelia’s Wake

Yesterday I took La-Vande, my King of Mercia, for a spin to Point Lookout.  The day was delightful—the first full day of sunshine after Hurricane Ophelia. I recently installed fenders on La-Vande, but I didn’t need them as much as I’d anticipated:  the roads and paths weren’t rivers and streams.  The storm’s wake, however, denied me, and everyone else access to Point Lookout Park.  Well, almost everyone:

They climbed the fence And the storm’s wake didn’t stop some intrepid beings from lining up on the nearby soccer field:

Might those birds have invented a new formation?

If You Don’t Jump The Shark, It Will Ride You

Nearly a decade ago (!), I wrote about my old Land Shark bicycle.

I got to thinking about it when I came across this:

An Emblem of Bicycle History

 Believe or not, bicycle manufacturers were major, or at least significant, employers in the US until World War II.

I’m not talking only about Schwinn.  A few years ago, I wrote about the Shelby Bicycle Company, which took its name from the Ohio community in which it was based.

Another example of such a relationship between a town and a bike-maker is that of Emblem Bicycles and Angola, a New York Stare village 3.3 kilometers (2 miles) from Lake Erie and 50 kilometers (22 miles) from downtown Buffalo.

Unless you are even deeper than I am into pre-War bikes, you probably haven’t heard of Emblem bicycles.  Apparently, they began making bikes during the first Bike Boom in the late 19th Century and continued until the eve of World War II. During the 1910s, Emblwm, like some other bike-makers, began to make motorcycles, which hadn’t evolved into their own category. As a matter of fact, Emblem, like other fabricators of two-wheeled vehicles, were identified—and identified by the public—as a bicycle company even when their production of motorized bikes exceeded that of traditional pedaled bicycles.

So, yesterday, when a fire burned in the historical building that the company called home, local media reports identified it as the “historic Emblem Bicycle building “—even  though Emblem bicycles haven’t been made there, or anywhere, in about 80 years.

Two dozen fire companies fought and contained the blaze.  Fortunately, no one was hurt.

Drowning In Irony

Perhaps the folks at the World Metrological Organization were playing a joke on us.  At least, someone in that august body has seen or read Hamlet and has a sense of humor or irony the Bard might appreciate.

I mean, why else would they name a hurricane Ophelia—after a character who drowned?

This morning it really looked like someone could be submerged simply by opening a door or window.  I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that the rainfall resembled a cataract.

If that metaphor works for you, the Crescent Street bike lane could have been its Niagara River or River Niger. The water finally receded, but earlier today it looked more like a stream than a path.

He Thinks He'll Be Out In 30 Days

It's bad enough to be struck or "doored" by a motorist who "didn't see" you even though you were dressed in reflective and fluorescent clothing and had your "blinkies" flashing even though it was midday.

And it's galling that, too often, such motorists get "slapped on the wrist" or incur no penalty at all.  Moreover, the cyclist, especially if he/she/they doesn't survive the "accident" is likely to be blamed, even if, in addition to wearing the bright vetements I described, also donned a helmet and obeyed all traffic laws.

What could be worse?

Perhaps what Jesus Ayala and Jzamir Keys did.

On 14 August, the duo joyrode four stolen cars--in a single day--and struck two cyclists and a car intentionally.

Yes, you read that right.  There is no conjecture about their intentions:  As Ayala drove the vehicles, Keyes filmed their "adventures" from the passenger side.  In the video, they can be heard laughing as Ayala drove into retired police officer Andreas Probst as he cycled down a Las Vegas street.  When Probst bounced off the windshield and onto the side of the road, one of the teens said to the other, "We gotta get outta here."

Yes, they are teens:  Keys is 16 and Ayala has turned 18 since the incident.  That means Ayala could be moved to an adult jail from the juvenile facility where he's been held since his arrest.  Keys fled and was caught a month later.

Ayala predicts, "I'll be out in 30 days, I'll bet you."  His reasoning, he said, is that it was "just a hit-and-run."

Except for a couple of small details.  In addition to injuring the other cyclist, who was not identified, Ayala's antics killed Probst. 

The cynic in me says that law enforcement officials are taking it more seriously than they might have because one of their own died.  But even if that is the case, I hope that it leads to Ayala getting the sort of punishment any driver deserves, but too rarely gets, for striking and killing a cyclist.  He won't have much to laugh about then. 

Google And Penny Farthings

Google turns 25 years old today.

So how does that relate to a bike race in England?

To my knowledge, the world’s most-used search engine has nothing to do with its sponsorship or organization. It may, however be a reason the race was run the other day.

I am talking about the 2023 Penny Farthing Championships.  Penny Farthing, as you may know, was a nickname for the high-wheeled bicycles that were popular before “safety” bicycles—like the ones we ride today—were developed. 

In contrast to today’s bikes, with chain-and-sprocket drives and wheels of equal, or nearly equal diameter, Penny Farthings were propelled by cranks attached directly to the axle of the front wheel, which was much larger than the rear. The proportion of the two wheels reminded English people of two of their coins, hence the name.

 

So, you may still be asking, what does Google have to do with a style of bicycle that all but disappeared by the mid-1890s?

Well, although I am in, ahem, midlife, I am old enough to remember—and have been an active cyclist—in the days before Google, or the Internet. In the 1980s and 1990s, vintage bikes, parts and accessories were all but impossible to find unless you chanced upon an old shop that was closing.  News of the few swap meets spread through word of mouth or printed notices, as often as not found at local club meetings.  

During that time, younger or newer cyclists were unaware of those beautiful old bikes, bags and clothing in traditional designs and materials.  Some companies that made them went out of business and no one was picking up the torch, so to speak.

Moreover, people who had older bikes and parts gave up on them when they couldn’t find replacements or people who knew how to work on, say, their old Sturney-Archer hubs. So, companies didn’t make or offer replacements or reproductions because “there was no demand.”

But the Internet—especially after the launch of Google—made not only bikes and parts, but information about them, more available.  Perhaps even more important, it allowed an aficionado of, say, vintage hand-built steel frames or randonneur bags who might be the only such person in his or her area to connect with someone in another town or even country.  I believe that such connections had much to do with increased i’interest in those bikes, parts and accessories—which, perhaps ironically, took off not long after Google launched.

Would the current interest in penny farthings, which has grown particularly strong in England, have happened without Google?  I can’t answer that.  All I can say is that I find the sight of Lycra-clad young people astride high-wheeled bikes charming, if incongruous.

You Can Ride It. Really!

 I have long believed that John Milton wrote “Samson Agonistes” for essentially the same reasons why he wrote “Paradise Lost.”  For one, I think he was trying to express his political beliefs.  For another, I think he had a poetic sensibility—almost entirely aural—that he simply had to express.

What is the difference between those two works? “Paradise Lost” is an epic poem, while “Samson Agonistes” is a play of a particular kind:  a “closet drama,” which is intended to be read rather than performed. (I would argue that, like “Paradise Lost,” it—or at least parts of it—has to be read aloud in order to truly appreciate Milton’s poetics.)

There seem to be analogies to “closet” dramas in the bicycle world: bikes and components that are created, not to be ridden, but because, well, someone could create them.  An example is a bike with square wheels, which I showed in a previous post.

But, it seems that someone has actually ridden it:

Shimano Crankset Recall

 I ride Shimano components—derailleurs, cassettes and brakes—on three of my bikes.  So what I am about to write will not be an expression of schadenfreude.

Here goes:  Shimano is recalling 2.8 million of its cranksets worldwide—760,000 in North America.  They include Dura-Ace and Ultegra 11-speed cranks manufactured between from 2012 to 2019 and sold, whether to individuals or to bike-makers, until this year.

The “Hollowtech” cranks were made with two more-or-less U-shaped aluminum alloy bars bonded with epoxy, which accounts for their appearance, light weight—and the problem that’s led to the recall.

 About 4500 crank arms de-laminated—in other words, came apart—as cyclists pedaled them. Some of those incidents resulted in injuries though, apparently, none were life-altering.

Shimano has provided a list of model names and numbers, along with date codes (which can be found on the backsides of the crank arms). 

No Bikes On The Right

Since the death of Generalissimo Franco in 1975, Spain has gone from being a conservative Catholic bastion to one of the most seemingly liberal and progressive countries in Europe and, indeed the world.  As an example, in 2005 it became the third nation on the planet--after the Netherlands and Belgium--to legalize same-sex marriage.

Note that I used the word "seemingly."  As in other countries, liberalism and tolerance of racial, ethnic, sexual and gender-expression minorities is found mainly in the large cities.  Rural areas and other places far removed from cities either remained conservative or were part of a "backlash" --which included animus against immigrants--that boosted right-wing politicians and parties into power.

In this sense, a recent development in Elche is not surprising.  A coalition of right- and far-right parties now rules the third-largest city in the Valencia region. They are un-doing what previous administrations did or started--including a bike lane in the center of town. 

Moreover, the city's new government wants to increase the amount of space allotted for cars on the city's streets because--tell me if you haven't heard this before--bike lanes "take away parking spaces" and "cause traffic jams."

It seems that right-wing politicians and their supporters see cyclists and bike lanes as easy targets.  Part of that, I believe, is that in a departure from times past, much of the native working class--who form much of the base of support, as they do for the Republican Party in the United States--either work in auto-related industries or are car-dependent in one way or another.  Cycling is therefore seen as attack on their way of life.

Also, in Elche the bike lane, like others in European cities, was funded in part by a European Union fund to develop "low emission zones"--of which the newly-dismantled bike lane.  Right-wing nationalists can therefore depict bike lanes and other sustainability projects as "overreach" by far-away bureaucrats, whether in Brussels (for the EU) or in Washington DC or state capitals (in the US).

It seems that everywhere a nation or group of people tries to make its country or community more sustainable and livable, the pushback comes from the political right--and bicycles and cyclists are among the first targets.

Their City Is Dying. Blame The Bike Lane.

Recently, another neighbor of mine lamented that the bike lane on our street--Crescent, in Astoria, Queens--is "ruining the neighborhood."

"How?" I asked.

"It used to be so easy to park here.  Now it's impossible," she complained.

I didn't express that I found her cri de coeur ironic given that she doesn't drive.  I believe, however, that she knew what I was thinking:  "When I did drive, one of the reasons I moved here from Manhattan was so that I could have a car.  So did a lot of other people."

To be fair, the reason she doesn't drive is an injury incurred in--you guessed it--a car crash.  So while I conceded that some folks--like the ones who pick her up for errands and outings--need to drive, I pointed out that others could do their chores by walking or biking and their commutes on buses or trains--or bikes.  "Didn't people find it harder to park as more cars came into the neighborhood."

"Yeah, but the bike lane made things worse."

In one sense, I agree with her:  the bike lane was poorly-conceived and -placed.  But blame for decades' worth of traffic and parking congestion on bike lanes that are only a few years old seems, to me, just a bit misplaced.

It seems that such mistaken vilification is not unique to my neighborhood or city--or to American locales in general.  In the UK city of Doncaster, "cycle paths, pedestrianisation and poor bus planning" are "slowly choking our wonderful city centre."  Nick Fletcher, a Tory MP, heaped on the hyperbole, begging planners to "reverse this trend" before "Doncaster becomes a ghost town."

What is the "trend" he's talking about?  The one he and others claim they saw unfold in nearby Sheffield:  a plan to turn downtowns into "15 minute cities," where all of the businesses and services a resident needs are within a 15 minute walk or bike ride. Fletcher and other conservative MPs see such plans the way much of today's Republican Party sees vaccination, mask-wearing during a pandemic, teaching actual history and science and shifting from fossil to sustainable fuels:  as "socialist conspiracies."

Doncha' no"?  They're part of a socialist conspiracy to destroy their city!

Where I live is, in effect, a 15 minute city:  Whatever one's needs, interests or preferences, they can be reached within that time frame, without a motorized vehicle.  Even midtown Manhattan is reachable in that time when the trains are running on time.  And in my humble judgment, Astoria is hardly a "ghost town."  Nor are neighboring Long Island City, Sunnyside or Woodside--or Greenpoint in Brooklyn-- all of which are, or nearly are, 15 minute cities. 

Oh, and from what I've heard and read, Sheffield and Doncaster are both "post industrial" cities in South Yorkshire.  Steel is no longer made in Sheffield, once the nation's center of that industry, just as coal and mining were once, but are no longer, synonymous with Doncaster's identity.  Both cities have endured losses of population that disproportionately include the young and the educated.  So it seems as ludicrous to blame bike lanes and bus routes, even "poorly planned" ones, for turning those cities into "ghost towns" as it does to blame a poorly-conceived bike lane for the lack of parking in a neighborhood to which people moved from Manhattan so they could have cars.

Riding In Beauty

 Some of you would  cringe if I quote a Carpenters’ song. I wouldn’t blame you.  But I’m going to cite one of their tunes anyway: “Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”

Today is a very rainy Monday.  I don’t mind:  Yesterday, Saturday and Friday afternoon comprised one of the most glorious weekends for cycling I’ve had in this part of the world. The skies ranged from clear azure to swirly silver and blue with the sun piercing through—and temperatures from 15 to 25c (60 to 77F).

Friday afternoon was a ramble along the Brooklyn and Queens waterfronts between my apartment and the Williamsburg Bridge, and out to the Hispanic and Hasidic neighborhoods of the non-gentrified areas of Williamsburg and East Williamsburg.  

Saturday was ideal for a trek to Greenwich, Connecticut: I pedaled into the wind through the Bronx, Westchester County and over the ridge into the Nutmeg State.  That meant I rode the wind home.

I had the same kind of luck with the wind yesterday, when I pushed my way out to Point Lookout and glided home. The wind seemed to have blown out of the south-southeast:  I had to put more effort into the first stretch, going mostly south from my apartment to Rockaway Beach, than I did on the mostly-eastward section from Rockaway to the Point.

I didn’t take any photos on Friday or Saturday because, as beautiful as those experiences were, they are rides I’ve done many times and I didn’t see anything unusual. That will probably change soon enough, at least on the Connecticut ride, when Fall begins to paint the trees and foliage from its pallette.

On yesterday’s ride, though, a vista from the western end of the Long Beach boardwalk reflected the way this weekend’s rides felt:

I rode in beauty, or at least its light, this weekend. Maybe this rainy Monday won’t get me down, at least not too much.

(In case you were wondering, I rode Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear on Friday. Saturday, Dee-Lilah, my Mercian Vincitore Special, took me to Connecticut.  And yesterday La-Vande, my King of Mercia, brought me to the beaches.)

Clothes Make The Rider

Some cyclists simply cannot imagine wearing anything but Lycra while riding. For a time, I was such a rider.

These days, I don't wear Lycra--though, perhaps, not for the same reason as this rider:

Can you imagine him in an outfit like this?: