Right Where They Belong

 Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

Somehow, leprechauns look like they belong on bicycles. Maybe it’s because they always look happy, and bike riding makes people happy.

That said, should we admonish them to wear helmets?

She Loves To Ride But Needs A Special Bike

 Kids (and adults) who are neurodivergent often have lots of physical energy but few socially-accepted outlets for it.

One such child is Mallory Siegman of Cape Coral, Florida. The 11-year-old looks forward to her adaptive physical education session at school, where she rides a specially-designed tricycle.

As much as she loves to ride, she can’t venture out on her own because she has autism.  It’s especially important for her to get exercise, her mother Danielle explained, because she was recently diagnosed as a borderline pre-diabetic.

So, she is entering Mallory into The Great Bike Giveaway, presented by The Friendship Circle of Michigan, a non-profit that provides programs and support to individuals and families with special needs. Turns out, Mallory has two siblings who are also autistic. Planning activities, Danielle says, is a challenge.

She hopes to win an ET 2611 tandem from Freedom Concepts, which retails for $10,000. One way it differs from other tandems is that it can be steered from the rear and the front steering can be disabled.  That means Danielle or her husband can ride in the rear (what is often called the “stoker” position on a traditional tandem) while Mallory or one of her siblings rides in the front (often referred to as the “captain’s” position). Most important, according to Danielle, is that she is “always right there” for Mallory and is “able to help her so she doesn’t get hurt.”

More information about the Giveaway—and to donate, go to the Friendship Circle page.  Mallory has her own page, where you can vote for her.

Bike Mistaken For Deadly Weapon In Gaza

Armed conflicts often lead to a form of hyper-vigilance I’ll call “war paranoia.” (There’s probably  a clinical term for it.) Everyday people, objects and situations are seen as threats or dangers and met with brutal or deadly force.

Such was the case in Gaza, where an Israeli military strike targeted what was believed to be a rocket propelled grenade launcher.

It was bicycle, and its rider died in one of the most horrifying ways possible.

To The Next Stage Of My Ride

 Over the past week and a half, what little riding I’ve done has been for commutes or errands, the latter of which has to do with an upcoming life change.  More about the latter soon. All I’ll say, for now, is that it will include a view of something I’ve ridden to and by many times:

Bike Thieves Prey On Crash Victim

The late, great Tom Cuthbertson--author of "Anybody's Bike Book" and "Bike Tripping"--wrote that stealing a bike from someone who loves and depends on it is one of the lowest things one human being can do to another.

As someone who loves and depends on my bikes, I agree.  But I also believe that some forms of bike theft are lower than others.  

On 23 February, some time between 5:30 and 6:30 pm local time, a young cyclist fell off his Carerra Vengeance mountain bike and suffered serious injuries.

Two men in their 20s stopped by on the premise of helping him.  They did indeed help him to his feet and waited with him until medical help arrived.  They were not, however, the Good Samaritans they pretended to be.  The victim's vulnerability became an opportunity for them to get a free bike--which they took with them as they fled into the York (UK) city centre.

A police spokesperson is urging anyone who might have information to contact Constable Eleanor Stevens.  

Why Do I Have A Cat?

This is why I have a cat:

What Do A Bike Race And An ‘80’s East Village Club Have In Common?

During my youth, there was a joke:  If you want to clear out an East Village club, all you had to do was walk in and yell, “DEA”—meaning “Drug Enforcement Agency.”

The East Village has gentrified enough that I doubt any of those clubs still exist.  About fifteen years ago, Brooklyn’s Bushwick neighborhood was more or less like the EV of my memory.  I guess it’s a sign that I really am well into midlife that I don’t know where the current epicenter of the club scene is—or whether they can be cleared out by yelling “DEA!”

I was reminded of that old joke when I read about an eight-day stage race in Spain. One week ago, on Day/Stage 6, 130 of the 182 riders bailed out because of “flat tires” and other maladies that coincided with the arrival of Spanish anti-doping authorities the way plane crashes, defenestrations and “accidental” poisonings follow expressions of dissent from, and other opposition to, authoritarian regimes.

Alvaro Marza, a former time trial champion who finished eighth in the race, noted that relationship between flat tires and the arrival of the anti-drug officers. “It is not a complicated mathematical formula, but it is the harsh reality,” he wrote in an Instagram post.

Susan B.Anthony, Muhammad Ali And Flight:370

 Today is International Women’s Day.

Whatever your gender identity or your anatomical configuration, if you are a cyclist, you should recognize the importance of women in cycling and, well, the world.  For one thing, we are the majority of humanity.  For another, there have been many great female cyclists, most of whom have ridden without recognition and support. A few, including Beryl Burton, have even beaten men’s records.

But perhaps the most important reason of all is that anyone who cares about gender equality needs to recognize the role the bicycle has played in the long journey toward that goal. After all, Susan B. Anthony said that the bicycle did more to liberate women than anything else. (That is why oppressive regimes like the Taliban forbid or discourage women and girls from riding them.) Bikes provided, and continue to provide, independent mobility. They also released women from the constraints of corsets and hoop skirts which, I believe, helped to relax dress standards—and thus make cycling easier—for everyone.

Today also happens to be the anniversary of two events that occurred during my lifetime.  One is one the greatest aviation mysteries of all time:  the disappearance of Malaysia Flight 370 ten years ago. Such an incident would have caused consternation in any time, but have become much rarer over time.

While that tragedy may not seem to have much in common with bicycles or bicycling, the other event is somewhat more related.  On this date in 1971,”the fight of the century” took place between Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali. Joe won that bout, but Ali would win two rematches.

To this day, I can’t recall another sporting event-and very few events of any kind-that were preceded by as much anticipation and hype. I’m no boxing expert, but I doubt that there has ever been a title match between two opponents so equally matched in talent and skill but so different in style. Also, Ali had been stripped of his titles—and his boxing licenses—for three years because of his refusal to register for the military draft that could have forced him to serve in the Vietnam War.

So why is “The Fight” worthy of mention on this blog?  Well, as I mentioned in a previous post, a boy named Cassius Clay might never have grown up to become Muhammad Ali, “The Greatest,” had his bicycle not been stolen. In recounting his loss to á police sergeant, he vowed to “whup” the thief.  The sergeant, who just happened to train boxers on the side, admonished young Clay that he should learn how to fight first.

So..did you ever expect to see Susan B. Anthony and Muhammad Ali mentioned in the same post—much less one that includes Malaysia Airlines Flight 370?

Why Are More Cyclists Dying On NYC Streets?

The New York City Department of Transportation has reported that 2023 was the deadliest year for cyclists since 1999.  A total of 30 people lost their lives on two wheels. That represents a more than 50 percent increase from the fatality rate of the previous year, or the year before it.

Cyclist deaths in New York City

(Purple bar-traaditional bicycles.  Pink bar--eBikes)

E-bikes

Traditional bicycles

30 deaths

23

25

20

15

10

7

5

2009

2011

2013

2023

2015

2017

2019

2021

(Source:  New York City Department of Transportaion)

The number of cyclists who were killed while riding traditional non-motorized bikes (7) actually declined from any of the previous 15 years. So, the vast majority of the city's cycling fatalities were on eBikes.  Moreover, those 23 deaths in eBike crashes is more than double the number of any other year for which records have been kept.

That number is, in part, a reflection of the degree to which eBikes have, as some cyclists and pedestrians say, "taken over."  Indeed, no eBike casualties are recorded before 2014 because, before that time, there weren't significant numbers of motorized bikes on this city's streets. 

(That era--the early to mid 2010's--was also, interestingly, when the popularity of motorcycles was at its lowest ebb in at least half a century.)  

But one theme has remained constant in the past quarter-century.  About half of all bicycle and eBike deaths are a result of crashes with trucks.  A major reason for that, I believe, is that truck drivers simply don't see cyclists.  Also, delivery trucks often pull into bike lanes or the rightmost traffic lane, which is used by cyclists when a separate bike lane isn't present. Some drivers, I imagine, don't know how else to make deliveries.  Plus, there is simply more traffic of all kinds on this city's streets, in part because of ride-share services that began to proliferate at around the same time as eBikes.

A Conflict In The Mist

 Yesterday’s high temperature (68F or 20C) in NYC broke a record for that date, which was set some time before I was in midlife.

I pedaled to Point Lookout and experienced something I normally encounter a few weeks later. As I crossed the Veterans Memorial Bridge over Jamaica Bay, I felt the temperature drop precipitously. At least, that’s how it seemed. At this time of year, the water temperature of the Bay and ocean is only 4 to 5C (38 to 40F). So the wind was invigorating or brisk, depending on your point of view.

A mist shimmered over the ocean waves at the Rockaways and Point Lookout.  Lovely as it was, I know it was the smoke, if you will, of a conflict between the warm air and cold water, magnified by bright sunlight.

GOAT—Or Just Horny?

 Until recently, I thought “goat” denoted an an animal that lives in the mountains and has horns.  

Only a few years ago, I learned that “GOAT” is an acronym for the “Greatest Of All Time.”

That title has been bestowed upon Michael Jordan, Tom Brady and other record-setting athletes. It’s commonly agreed that cycling’s GOAT is Eddy Merckx.

More than one of my old cycling buddies probably thought of themselves as the “GOAT.” Of course they weren’t.

But they were goats in one other way:

Did cycling make them horny?

Hipster Girls And The Black Hat Hole

“Very well then, I contradict myself (I am large, I contain multitudes)”

Walt Whitman may have given us one of the best definitions of good mental health. A corollary to that might be that maturity is understanding that we all have our contradictions:  After all, who tries to live by any book or idea, to the letter, once he or she has had to hold down a job

Anyway, I won’t try to assess whether, or how well, some Hasidic men in Brooklyn understand their own internal (and sometimes external) juxtapositions.  I do, however, find it interesting that when Citibike went online just over a decade ago, the Ultra-Orthodox community of South Williamsburg included some of the bike-share program’s most enthusiastic users—and some of its fiercest opponents.

While “Williamsburg” became synonymous with “hipster” and “gentrification,” the area south of the eponymous bridge to Manhattan remained one of this city’s two major Hasidic enclaves. (Borough Park is the other. East Williamsburg is, arguably, the heart of the Big Apple’s Puerto Rican community.) One notable difference between Hasidim and the hipsters and Nuyoricans is family size.  That leaves little, if any room, for a bicycle in their living quarters.

Another visible difference is that from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday, streets on Hasidic neighborhoods are deserted, except when people are walking to or from shul. And, of course, there is sartorial style: It, shall we say, leaves much to the imagination.

That last point was an argument against installing Citibike ports in the neighborhood. Some Hasidic rabbis and other community leaders complained that those blue bikes streamed “immodest” riders—or, in thr words of one Reddit commenter “sexy ass hipster girls” —down their neighborhood’s streets.

A result of this tension was the “Hasidic hole” or, as one wag put it, “black hat hole” of Citibike availability. Hasidim were walking as much as a mile to access the bikes.

The map on the left reflects Citi Bike last year. The map on the right is the current coverage. (The green zone is the Brooklyn Navy Yard, which is not a public area)

Recently, freshman City Council member Lincoln Restler, who is Jewish but not Hasidic or even Orthodox, has been doing what his predecessor Stephen Levin (also Jewish but not Orthodox) couldn’t. He has negotiated with Hasidic leaders to shrink that “hole” and make Citibike—which now includes eBikes—more accessible. He is also working to bring more bicycle infrastructure to a part of the city that is better-served than most.

His efforts might allow a community to accept its contradictions:  People might profess shock and dismay over “sexy ass Hipster girls” (who, I assure them, don’t include me!) but they appreciate the convenience and fun of cycling.

Recalling Dave

 

Cannondale is recalling some “Dave” 26-inch bikes due  to two reports of frame failures caused by damage to the head tube/down tube weld.  No injuries were reported.

The recall encompasses 660 bikes sold in the US and 113 in Canada during the model years 2021 through 2023. The bikes and framesets were finished in deep teal and stealth gray. “Dave” is painted on the top frame tube and “Cannondale” on the down tube.

If you think you have one of the affected bikes, call Cannondale at 800-245-3872 from 9 am-6pm ET Monday through Friday. Or you can email C’dale at ridersupport@cannondale.com or go to http://www.cannondale.com/en/safety-and-recalls and click on “Recalls & Notices” at the bottom of the page.

Leaping Wheels

 This date comes once every four years.

If you were born on this date, Happy Birthday.

Three Leap Year Days ago, Seven Bicycles made a special-edition machine.

Whither Campagnolo?

Photo by Will Jones

I can still remember the day I finally attained a full-Campagnolo Record-equipped bicycle.

My Trek 930 racing bike, made from Columbus SL tubing, had one last non-Campy part:  Galli brakes.  They were essentially lighter-weight Italian versions of late-1970s Dura-Ace.  I'd bought them for another bike because the price was reasonable and they were gold anodized--which, I thought, looked really bad-ass on the bike which, like the Trek, was black.

One of the mail-order companies--Nashbar, I believe--ran a dead-of-winter sale on Campy and other stuff.  I bought the brakes, for even less than I could have had them with my employees' discount (i.e., wholesale price) at Highland Park Cyclery, where I'd been working the previous season.  Frank, the owner and head mechanic, said he didn't blame me for buying them at that price--$59.00, if I remember correctly.  (They typically sold for around $80-100 in the early 1980s.)  

Did the Campagnolo Record Brakes stop or modulate any more efficiently than the Gallis?  No.  But in those days, having a bike that was tutti Campagnolo was like having a book by your favorite writer inscribed and signed by that writer.  Just as having such a volume wouldn't make you a better writer,  having a set of components designed by Tullio himself, and made by little elves in Vicenza (all right, I know that's not true)--and, more to the point, ridden by nearly everyone in the professional peloton--didn't make you ride faster or break the wind for you.  But it sure felt as if Campy's stuff--even his gold-plated corkscrew--held some sort of mystique.

Oh, and better yet, I had an all-Italian bike.  Well, sort of.  The Trek frame was made in the US--by Tim Isaacson--but, as I mentioned, from Columbus SL tubing (the lightest available at the time) in a more-or-less Italian style.  Oh, and the French Mavic rims and Ideale 2002 saddle (my favorite racing saddle at the time), were "honorary Italian:"  members of the peloton and rich Sunday riders alike rode them on their Campy-equipped machines.  Ditto for the DT spokes.

Now, to be fair, Campagnolo Record components had a mostly-deserved reputation for performance and durability.  To this day, I don't think a better traditional ball-bearing hub or bottom bracket has been made.  While the brakes weren't the best at braking, and the cranks sometimes cracked under heavy use, they held up well for most riders and were beautiful.

But even if you never won--or entered--a race, having a Campagnolo Record-equipped bike gave you cred, to yourself and possibly to others who shared your obsession or were simply status seekers.

It's that last group of riders --or, in some cases, non-riders-- who, according to Will Jones, Davide Campagnolo (the grandson of founder Tullio) is courting.  The Cycling News tech writer, in sighing, "meh!" to the Campagnolo's latest offerings, wondered about the company's direction, if any.  He got his answer in Signor Davide's declaration that Campagnolo is becoming a "sports luxury" brand.

He's thus said the quiet part out loud. Although Campagnolo had a near-monopoly on the peloton for about two decades, many weekend cyclists bought their stuff as much for prestige as for performance.  So, in that sense, for those who weren't racing or racking up thousands of miles every year, Campagnolo has been indeed a luxury brand.

Jones inferred that the emphasis will be on "luxury."  That, to me, begs this question:  How would whatever Davide is planning be different from, say,  Armani or Versace offering bicycle clothing? Or Ferragamo cycling shoes or Gucci bike bags or other accessories?

Here is another indication that the emphasis will be on status and fashion:  Last year, among World Tour teams (the ones that compete in the Tour de France, Giro d'Italia and other prestigious races)  only AG2R-Citroen's bikes sported the Italian maker's components. This year, no World Tour team is riding them.

A Good Step—But Is It Enougih

 

The Federal Government defines them as “micromobility devices.” Soon, however, one state might, in essence, classify them as motorized vehicles.

That might seem like a mere matter of semantics—or the sort of thing that occupies lawyers and policy wonks with too much time on their hands.  But it could have real consequences for eBike owners and riders.

Last month, Bill S2292 was introduced in the New Jersey Senate. It’s said to be “gaining traction “ as it moves the required Senate committee reviews. A date for a vote, however, has not been set.

In essence, the bill, if passed, would require “low speed electric bicycles” and “‘motorized bicycles” to have the same liability insurance as motorcycles or cars.

For the purposes of the bill, a “low speed electric bicycle “ is defined as a two- or three-wheeled vehicle with operable pedals and an electric motor of less than 750 watts that provides assistance when the rider is pedaling or ceases to provide assistance when the rider reaches 20 mph. A “motorized bicycle “ is one with pedals and a motor whose maximum piston displacement is less than 50cc or whose motor is rated at no more than 1.5 brake horsepower. Or, the bike is powered by an electric drive motor and does not reach more than 25 MPH on a flat surface.

Under those terms, eBike owners would be required to have insurance against potential bodily injury, death or property damage caused by their vehicles. In addition, eBike owners would need to carry personal injury protection in case their eBike causes bodily injury or death to another person.

The bill seems to be a response to the recent spate of crashes—and fires caused by eBike batteries. In that sense, I think it’s a good idea and think we should have a similar regulation here in New York. On the other hand, critics say that it could make eBike ownership “prohibitively expensive.” I also wonder how it could be enforced, given that many eBike purchases are made “off the books,” if you will, by undocumented immigrants.

A Translation of “Hasta La Vista, Baby!”

 As cheesy as it sounds, I have envisioned a movie, video or play ending with the main character mounting a bicycle and intoning, “See you later, alligator!”

SaddleUp This Summer

 

When we think of “summer jobs,” images  of young people working as lifeguards, sandwich-makers, bike mechanics and camp counselors come to mind.

If you have been reading this blog for a while, you probably know that I’ve been a bike shop mechanic. I have  also worked as a counselor/instructor at a day and a sleep-away camp. At both, I worked with teenagers on their poems, stories and other writings, and helped to compile a magazine and yearbook.  Although I enjoyed the work, after my sleep-away camp experience I made a vow—which I’ve kept through the ensuing decades—that I would never again live on my job site.

Once I started college teaching (Hey, if I can do it, so can you!), “summer job” became “summer work” and meant teaching a class or two.

Now I have learned about a new kind of summer job:  one I might’ve wanted when I was young (which, as I like to tell young people, I once was, believe it or not). Some might say it’s an “only in Portland” position.

WashCl Bikes, a community bike shop in Hillsboro, Oregon is, in many ways like New York’s Recycle-a-Bicycle and other “community “ bike shops. It “recycles” bikes that might otherwise have ended up in landfills and sells them, alongside helmets, lights, locks and other necessities for transportation cycling.  Washco also does repairs and conducts repair classes.

The new summer position, however, isn’t as a mechanic, salesperson or workshop instructor. As it turns out, Washco runs SaddleUp. It’s not strictly a bike camp:  traditional summer camp activities like arts and crafts are included.  Campers reach those activities, held on different sites, by bicycle.  Those rides, along with rides in the community and on trails, are used to teach bike skills, safety and etiquette.

Full- and part-time positions are available at “competitive”pay.  WashCo is accepting applications now.

He Didn’t Leave Us In A Funk

 Some things are named after the people who discovered, invented or popularized them.  Hence Curium, Pasteurization, Petrarchean sonnets and Sheldon’s fender nuts.

Sometimes it’s a good thing when folks don’t name their creations, inventions or discoveries after themselves.For example, we should be as thankful for that the man scientist who discovered vitamins so named them.

On this date 140 years ago, Casimir Funk was born in Warsaw, Poland.  He earned a doctorate in chemistry at the University of Bern when he was 20.  His early career included work at the Pasteur institute in Paris and the Lister Institute in London. 

Being the skilled observer he was, he couldn’t help but to notice that certain foods helped to prevent diseases.  In particular, he noted that people who ate brown rice were less vulnerable to beri-beri than those who ate the white stuff.

He set out to learn what, in foods, promotes health or prevents illness.  He isolated substances in them and saw that they contained amines—members of a group of compounds that include amino acids. 

Over three decades he discovered 13 such amines, which he called vita amines—the life amines.  That name became, of course, vitamins.

So why am I writing about ohim on a bike blog?  Well, most cyclists I know are at least somewhat nutrition-conscious.  And the way competitive cyclists eat has changed greatly, especially within the past three decades or so.

Training tables for cyclists and other athletes consisted of foods chosen by trainers who, as often as not, had no training in anatomy or physiology, let alone nutrition. So what athletes ate and drank was guided by long-held notions about particular foods. (Oh, and many racers smoked because it was believed to “open up the lungs.)

As cycling teams began to hire nutritionists and doctors who were knowledgeable about sports medicine, emphasis shifted from the foods themselves to what is in them. And racers started to take supplements. 

The way cyclists and other athletes think about nutrition, then, has been made possible, at least in part, by Casimir Funk’s work in isolating vitamins.

We should be glad he didn’t call them Funkies. 

Malcolm X

 On this date in 1965, Malcolm X was assassinated.

On this date in 2015, I wrote a post commemorating the 50th anniversary of that tragedy:

50 Years After Malcolm X

On this date fifty years ago, Malcolm X was assassinated in the Audubon Ballroom.  Today the site of the Audubon, in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Upper Manhattan, is a laboratory for Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center.  I have ridden by it many times and, in fact, once went inside the Ballroom.  Every time I passed or visited the site I thought, however briefly, about his importance, not only to the history of the US and the world, but in my own life.

I first read Malcolm’s autobiography when I was about twenty.  It was around the same time I discovered African-American writers like Ralph Ellison, James Baldwin, Richard Wright and Zora Neale Hurston—and when I first heard Bob Marley.  In one way or another, they all not only expressed the burning desire to be free, but also made oppression—which is to say, the things that turn people into slaves of all kinds—clear and vivid.

I identified with their wishes and feelings for, as it turned out, reasons very different from theirs.  How could mine not be different?  After all, as difficult as my grandparents’ lives were, nobody brought them here in chains.  Even more to the point, I knew who my grandparents and their grandparents were, even though I had never met the latter.  So, even though I knew that so much of what I learned in school was a whitewashed (Yes, I am conscious of that word choice!) version of the truth, I wasn’t—couldn’t be—conscious of it in the profound way that Malcolm and all of those black writers and artists were. 

So, in my own clumsy way, I reacted to the injustices that persisted long after Malcolm’s murder and the deaths of the others I’ve mentioned though their polemics, rhetoric, rhythms, intuition and sense of irony.  What I did not understand was that they could use those tools or gifts or whatever you want to call them because they mastered them in ways that exact terrible, terrible costs.  (Baldwin has written that any people who has a language of their own has paid dearly for it.) What I could not understand was that I was paying my own dues, as it were, but I did not yet understand what I was paying for.  So I borrowed anger, grief, pain and a very dark kind of humor in my own feeble attempts to come to terms with why I could not live the kind of life for which I was being trained—or why anyone should want that kind of life.

So why am I mentioning such things on this blog?  Well, for one thing, being a cyclist has freed me from a lot of things.  I think of all of the time and money I didn’t have to spend on buying, fueling, maintaining and parking cars.  That is part of the reason why I have been able to live in New York and spend time with things I love:  I didn’t have to work in some job or in some business that would have destroyed my psyche or other people’s lives.  Being a cyclist when it wasn’t fashionable also, I think, has made me less vulnerable to propaganda and groupthink, if it hasn’t made me a better critical thinker or more creative person (though I think it’s done the latter for me). 

Of course, for me, freedom has meant living as the person I am.  Anyone who cannot live with integrity and with dignity is a slave or a prisoner or worse.  One way I identify with Malcolm is that it took him as long as he did to truly come into his own, even if he accomplished a lot else before doing so.  His descent into slavery, as it were, came when, in spite of his academic success and oratorical skills, his eighth-grade teacher mocked his dream of being a lawyer. When he, as an inmate in the Charlestown (MA) Penitentiary, became a disciple of Elijah Muhammad, he found a voice.  However, it took him much longer, I think, to find his voice.

Our voice, if you will, is how we express our authentic selves in the world.  For some, it is in their careers or vocations.  For others, it is in creative work or performing:  I think of Jimi Hendrix’s guitar as his voice.  Others express it through a passion or relationship.  Actually, I think that for most of us, our “voice” is a combination of the things we do and are.  Whatever it is, if it isn’t authentic, we’re still slaves or prisoners.  For me, that is the real importance of Malcolm X’s life and work. 

https://midlifecycling.blogspot.com/2015/02/50-years-after-malcolm-x.html?m=1

A Ride Through Snowscapes

 On Saturday more snow fell than we’ve seen in a long time.  Three inches (7.5 cm) stuck to the ground here in Astoria and in Manhattan; not far away, on Staten Island and in North Jersey, some places had three or even four times as much.

Although the temperature hovered near the freezing mark, the snow was pretty fluffy—enough so that, a block from me, I thought I was looking at a cotton tree.

I don’t imagine, though, that the snow did much to protect these bikes:

The streets and, yes, even the bike lanes were plowed rather promptly—enough so that yesterday, on a Presidents’ Day ride to Point Lookout, I had to steer clear of a snow pile only once. On my return trip, I walked up the ramp to the Veterans Memorial Bridge out of precaution: I saw ice on it on the ride out.

The remaining snow made for an interesting view

that seemed like an inversion of what I saw on a previous Point Lookout ride.

Did those white caps spill their foam on the sand and grass?

Presidents And Bicycles

 One week ago, I noted the birthdays of Abraham Lincoln—and Charles Darwin.  

When I was a child, Lincoln’s and George  Washington’s birthdays were commemorated with their own holidays on the 12th and 22nd of February, respectively.  Some time in my early puberty—when the deluge began!—that tradition ended in favor of the generic Presidents’ Day, on the third Monday of February:  today.

OK, now I’m going to get political on you, dear reader.  On one hand, I’m offended that this holiday, in essence, elevates Donald Trump to the same plane as Washington, Lincoln and Franklin D. Roosevelt. On the other hand, it’s part of the reason why February is Black History Month, which I wholeheartedly support.  Originally, there was a Black History Week that included Lincoln’s Birthday.  When Abe lost his own billing, the commemoration of a long-deleted part of this country’s heritage was expanded into the month.

Anyway, in an earlier post, I mentioned that during the late 19th Century Bike Boom, Washington’s Birthday was Bicycle Day. Dealers and manufacturers debuted new models and offered special deals, often accompanied by a lavish party.  Bicycle Day morphed into Auto Day, which became part of the current Presidents’ Day.

When Washington’s Birthday was Bicycle Day, electoral campaign images often included bicycles, sometimes with the candidates riding them.

The “bad” government on the left (!) was that of Democrat (!) Grover Cleveland; the “good” on the right was the prospective administration of William McKinley.

So, since I broke a promise I never made to never discuss politics, I will mention one of my beefs with McKinley:  His administration included the lynching of, I mean war against, Spain, which was predicted on a lie. (Sound familiar?) The spoils, if you will, for the US included Puerto Rico, Cuba, Guam and the Philippines (which, ironically, gained its “independence” from the US on the 4th of July, in 1946). Some historians argue that the war also made the invasion, I mean annexation, of Hawai’i possible.

What's In A Name?

 If you live in the English-speaking world, you almost certainly call someone you know "Mike."  Chances are, he's a boy or man named Michael.

So, if "Mike" is short for "Michael:"