Following Bliss At The Beginning Of Fall (Apologies to Joseph Campbell)

Fall began the other day, though you wouldn't have known it from the weather.  Today was more like it:  cool and breezy, with bright sunshine showing, like the leaves, just the slightest hints of change in hue.

This also means the days are growing shorter.  So, if you want to ride the same number of miles or kilometers you were riding a few weeks earlier--in daylight--you have to leave earlier in the morning.  Or ride faster.

Today I woke up later than I anticipated.  Still, I decided to sit and enjoy a breakfast you won't find at very many training tables.  I blame the nice, warm baguettes I encountered in the bakery two blocks from my apartment.  (Well, now you know one reason why I'm not as skinny as I was!)  And I just happened to have a nice, ripe slice of Brie in my refrigerator. I took it out before I set out for the bakery.  When I got back, it hadn't started to run, but oozed flavor nonetheless.

Perhaps incongruously, I washed everything down with green tea.  I find, increasingly, that it's what I prefer to drink before a ride, especially since I've started to keep un-bagged tea (from Japan, no less) and an infuser in my apartment.  I'm going to keep those things in my office, too!

(Of course, while in Paris, I drank coffee before rides.  Why wouldn't I?  Who goes there to drink tea?)

Yesterday the weather forecasters told us that last night we would have rain and wind, which would bring in the weather we had today--which began with a heavy cloud cover that broke up through the morning.  Hearing that prediction, I planned on taking a ride to Connecticut.  But I wondered how realistic that plan would be, at least if I wanted to get home in daylight.  After all, it was nearly noon when I got on my bike.

And I started my ride in the teeth of a 30KPH wind. I realized that, if I wanted to return home in daylight, I had three choices:  push myself, ride to Connecticut and, if need be, take the train home from there or some other point on the way back, or just ride as far as I could in a couple of hours and turn back, whether or not I reached Greenwich.

Just about all the way up, I was pedaling into that wind.  But the ride wasn't as strenuous as I expected.  Perhaps it had something to do with the weather:  temperatures of 12 to 17 C (55 to 64 F) with muted but gradually brightening sunshine.  Also, I was riding Arielle, my Mercian Audax, which always seems to make me faster,  without trying.  And, hey, I was just feeling so, so good simply to be out riding!

Even though I took the long route up--which also happens to be the route with more hills--I got to Greenwich more quickly than I expected:  about two hours and forty-five minutes.  That meant about three and a half hours to sunset.  And I would have the wind at my back!

Mind you, I wasn't trying to better a personal record (I didn't) or prove anything to myself.  I simply felt so good today that I couldn't help but to have a great ride.  And, of course, Arielle gives such a smooth ride that I can keep on pedaling without pain, without strain and still get a good workout.

Oh...When I got home, I still had a bit more than half an hour to spare before the sun would begin to set, having pedaled 140 kilometers--and lounged for about half an hour in the public garden by Greenwich Hospital.  Most important, though, I felt so, so good! 

Is It A Junk Food? Or An Energy Bar? Or A Performance-Enhancing Substance?

Sometimes I give advice in topics about which I have absolutely no business advising anyone.  Sometimes I'm pressed into it:  Someone thinks I know something about some topic on which I'm about as well-versed as Hon. Dana Rohrabacher is on atmospheric science.  Other times, I think I know more about something than I actually do, or--believe it or not ;-)--lose sight of that (very thin!) line that separates my opinions from facts.

When people assume I know more than I actually do about something, they ask--and I give advice--about dating, family relationships, how to deal with co-workers and bosses, love, education, politics, fashion, careers or the existence of God(s).  When I think I know more than I actually do, I find myself giving advice about any and all of those topics, as well as health and almost any academic subject.  (I hope my department chair isn't reading this!)  And, of course, when I start conflating my opinions with knowledge, I start advising people about cycling equipment!

There is, however, at least one area in which I never have given, and do not plan to give, advice.  

Even when I was skinny and in excellent condition, I never presumed to tell any cyclist--or anyone else--what or how he or she should eat.  It's not for lack of knowledge:  I know, probably, as much as any layperson about nutrition--current notions as well as almost any from the past 40 years or so.  Nor is it from any noble desire to do good or not to do harm.  Rather, my reticence about proffering nutritional advice has more to do with the fact that I would have trouble doing such a thing with a straight face.

No matter what kind of advice I might give on the subject, I would be a hypocrite.  Even when my body-mass index was lower than my age, my diet would have appalled just about any nutritionist--whether of the orthodox, holistic or any other variety.  Not only did--do--I eat pretty much whatever I liked, whenever I wanted it, I gulped exactly the things we were told not to touch when riding, or ever.

Now, in my defense, I'll say that while I was on bike tours, I was more interested in sampling the local fare than I was in maintaining a regimen that would keep me at my maximum efficiency. (You would be, too, unless you were in a race!)  So, while in Europe, I downed lots of bread and cheese and dark chocolate--though, to be fair, I also ate plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables I picked up from roadside stands and farmers' markets.  

So..when I should have been gnawing on Power Bars or downing Energy Gels, I munched on jambon-beurre all over France.  In fact, one j-b I ate in a truck stop between Menton and Frejus--more than thirty years ago--remains one of the best sandwiches I've ever had.  Hey, if a place like that can elevate something with three ingredients--a demi-baguette, ham and butter--to an art-form, why in the world would you want a Clif Bar?

But my food choices while cycling have not always been even that elevated.  I was reminded of that today when, before starting a ride to Coney Island, I ate something I haven't had in a while:  Pop Tarts.

Yes, I admit it!  In fact, for a time, I never left for a ride without tucking one of those packets with two 'tarts into my jersey pocket or Camel Back. My riding buddies were doing the same, especially when rumbled up and down the trails in Vermont and upstate.

What made them so popular with our sub-segment of the mountain biking community in those days--about two decades ago--was the "rush" we got practically the second we swallowed a bite of one.  Especially from frosted brown-sugar cinnamon Pop Tarts:  I think they contained every kind of sugar ever concocted in a food processing plant!

Today I ate two cherry 'tarts'.  I was always partial to them, and to the blueberry and strawberry ones. Then again, it's hard to go wrong with any of those fruits.  But coming up with the brown-sugar cinnamon tarts was a real accomplishment.  As far as I know, neither the UCI nor the Olympic Committee has banned them!

I hear that now there's a whole-grain version.  Does that assuage your guilt?

How Fast Does He Ride To Work?

This morning I was running late.  I worried: I didn't want to be late to a still-new job.  Still, I took the time to talk to, and stroke, Marlee and Max before I left my apartment.

Of course, frolicking with my felines didn't buy me any more time.  So, I knew that I'd have to ride at a pretty brisk pace to get to work on time.

If there are bicycle-commuting gods or goddesses, they were definitely on my side today.  I didn't feel as if I'd been pedaling particularly hard or fast, or as if I'd been flying up 29th Street, across the RFK Bridge, through Randall's Island or across Bruckner Boulevard. But, somehow, I managed to make it to the college earlier than I'd been arriving when I left home on time, or even early.

How did that happen?  Well, it had nothing to do with breakfast, because I hadn't had any (except for a cup of green tea).  My legs felt nice and supple, not tense, afterward.  Still, I'm not sure that my pace had anything to do with my conditioning. 

Or with traffic. During a break between classes, I re-ran my commute through my mind. As best as I can recall, I didn't have to stop for any lights--and, no, I didn't run through any red lights!

But I'm not sure that even my luck with traffic signals had much to do with my timing.  One thing I know for sure:  It didn't have to do with my bike.  I was riding my heaviest and slowest machine, the one with the thickest tires ( the LeTour).  And I had a pannier filled with papers, books, small tools, a pump, an inner tube and a few other things.  

Hmm...I wonder how much faster I would have been had I been riding something like this:

Last week, this Aerovelo Eta set a new speed record of 144.18 kilometers per hour (89.59 MPH)  during the International Human Powered Vehicle Association's annual Human Powered Speed Challenge.  Contestants rode a course along State Route 305 just outside of Battle Mountain, Nevada.  The route included an 8 kilometer  (5 mile) acceleration zone followed by a 200-meter "speed trap" at an altitude of 1408 meters (4619 feet).   The contest was held in this setting for the 18th year in a row.

Eta's pilot broke the record he set last year. Todd Reichert, a Canadian cyclist who holds a PhD in Aeronautical Engineering, also designed the machine--and co-founded Aerovelo.  His specialty is in the design of aircraft as well as land streamlined land-based vehicles, and says he is specifically interested in "blending the functional with the beautiful".  

I won't dispute that he has achieved those goals with the Eta.  But, as the saying goes, beauty must suffer.    Or, more precisely, someone suffers for it:  In this case, I think it was Dr. Reichert himself, when he was inside that capsule!

As much as I admire both his design and his ride, I simply cannot imagine myself inside that cockpit with my rear end hovering just a couple of inches above East 138th Street!  And--as someone who was once in his position, in another manner of speaking, I have to wonder how he felt about riding with his "family jewels" only a few hairs' breadth away from a wheel spinning at nearly 90 MPH! 

On Track, Or Off The Rails?

If someone mentions a "track bike", you're likely to think of something that's meant to be ridden on the velodrome.

 

Such a bike will, more than likely, have a frame with a very short wheelbase and steep angles, a single fixed gear and no brakes.  If you actually race with such a bike, you're likely to equip it with very light tubular (sew-up) tires and rims, a very sharply angled handlebar stem and handlebars with a large drop and a very small flat area.

Also, if you're racing, you are likely to, at some point, ride on the top part of the embankment.  On some tracks, you will be riding almost horizontal position, as if you were riding along a wall.  I found that the best way to do this was simply to look ahead, not down, and keep on pedaling at a steady pace.

Now, if you're not confident of your ability to ride on a track, you can always try this:

That bike reminds me of the first "mountain bikes" Gary Fisher and friends concocted from old Schwinn cruisers and parts modified to fit them.  One difference is, of course, that those early mountain bikers barreled down northern California fire trails, while the bike in the photo would be ridden on railroad tracks, which are almost always flat.

 

Apparently, that bike wasn't "Stinky Pete"'s first "track" bike.  A vintage Panasonic touring bike met an untimely demise when it derailed (and you thought only derailleurs were supposed to do that!) at 16 MPH.

Talk about "going off the rails"!  Let's hope his second attempt stays on track!

 

Girls Just Wanna Ride Bikes....In Iran

If you were going to start a movement, would you ban 51 percent of the people from participating in it?

Perhaps that seems like a rhetorical, or merely silly, question. 

It is, however, one that is begged by a turn of events in a country full of paradoxes.

I'm not talking about the US Presidential election campaign.  Rather, I am referring to a something that happened in a country where such things normally don't happen--and what resulted in one part of that country. 

The nation in question is performs more gender-reassignment surgeries than any country except Thailand.  Yet its leader once famously declared that there are no homosexuals in his country.

By now, you may have realized that I am talking about Iran. 

It's not a country noted for its advanced environmental policies.  So more than a few eyebrows were raised when, in November 2015, environmental activists in Aran, an industrial city in the western province of Markazi, introduced the idea of "Tuesdays Without Cars" or, more generally, "Clean Tuesdays", on which people are invited to leave their cars at home and, instead, commute by bicycle. 

The idea quickly spread and now all of the Iran's provinces have joined in.  Now it's on the verge of becoming a national event.

But national events aren't easy to coordinate in a country like Iran.  I have never been there, but I have been told that in at least one sense, it's like neighboring Turkey, where I have spent some time:  there are great cultural differences from one region to another.  So, in a city like Tehran or Istanbul, there are neighborhoods full of people who live lives not too dissimilar from those in Western capitals.  However, in both cities, there are also conservative religious enclaves.  So, it almost goes without saying that in the countryside, customs and interpretations of Islam are, shall we say, not exactly liberal.

In Marivan, a county of Kurdistan province about 500 kilometers from Markazi, some women were stopped on 29 July for the crime of...cycling.  At least, some police officers had the idea that women on bikes were haram.  For the time being, women can't ride bikes on the streets in the area.

While there is nothing in Iranian legal codes that prohibits women from cycling, in places like Marivan, the idea of a woman riding a bicycle goes against traditional religious values--or, at least, interpretations of them.

Now, I am certainly no expert on the Qu'ran or Sharia law, but I don't think anything in either would exclude women from riding bicycles, specifically.  But some would interpret those texts, which warn against shameful acts, to mean that women should not ride bicycles.

Or, at least, they would interpret them to mean that women should not be seen riding bicycles in public.  Upon hearing about the July incident, Mamousta Mostafa Shirzadi, the Friday prayer Imam for Marivan, said that officials of the Sport and Youth Organization "need to provide" the women an "appropriate indoor space" for cycling.

In response, organizers of Tuesdays Without Cars pointed out that women, as much as men, need to be able to use their bikes as transportation-- and not just for exercise or recreation, which is all that an indoor space would allow.

Here is a video from a protest against the ban:



Below is a still from a video of a mother and daughter defying the de facto ban on women cycling:

A mother and daughter defy the fatawa against women cycling.

Davis: Still Trying To Set People On The Path Of Cycling

"It was Portland before Portland was Portland."

That is how someone described Davis, California for me. 

 Today, when you ask people to name a "bicycle-friendly", they are likely to think of the City of Roses.  I will not quibble with its reputation:  Few American cities have done more to promote bicycling as a viable means of transportation (though, as in most places, some of those efforts have been misguided).  Portlanders adopted their first bike plan in 1973; after meeting its goals, which included 190 miles of bike paths, new bike plans followed in 1996 and 2010.

It should be pointed out, however, that Davis was developing a reputation as a bicycle haven as early as the 1950's, at a time when few American adults cycled--and Portland was still a lumber-and-mining town.  (When Bill Walton arrived to play with the Trailblazers, the local NBA team, he was dismayed to find a "redneck" burg.)  The local agricultural college had just become the University of California-Davis (UC's seventh campus); the city's flat terrain and warm climate as well as enthusiasm over a new educational project attracted a diverse group of people who were willing, well, to try something new.  

According to local lore, the real driving (pun intended!) force behind the city's pro-bike efforts were a family who returned from a year in the Netherlands in the early 1960s.  They found sympathetic ears in a newly-elected city council that, no doubt, saw bicycling as a way to promote their city as well as the new UC campus. In 1967, Davis striped what were claimed to be the first bicycle-specific lanes in the US.  

Other efforts and experiments soon followed, which included facilities  and ways of accommodating bicycles at traffic signals.   The university invented the bicycle roundabout, now used on many other schools, to handle the large number of bicycles on campus.  Today, the city of ten  square miles boasts 50 miles of on-street bike lanes the same amount of off-street bike paths.

Even after other cities have ramped up their efforts to make themselves more appealing to cyclists, Davis is still seen as a cyclist's paradise--at least, in comparison to other American locales.  A far higher percentage of its citizens cycle to work or school every day than in almost any other city of its population (67,666, according to a 2015 estimate).  Still, Susan L. Handy muses, "Perhaps even more interesting than the fact that so many people in Davis cycle is the fact that so many more don't."

Professor Handy is the Chair of the Department of Environmental Science and Policy at UC-Davis.  She is also Director of the Sustainable Transportation Center, part of the Federal University Transportation Centers Program.  She is probably  in as good a position as anyone can be to understand patterns of bicycle usage--and, more important, what might be behind those patterns.

She also uses what is, arguably, some of the best bicycle infrastructure in the United States. Still, she says it is not enough.  "[W]hile good infrastructure is necessary to get many people bicycling, it is not enough to get most people bicycling".  The experience of Davis would seem to bear this out:  Although a higher percentage of Davis workers ride their bikes to their jobs than their colleagues even in nearby Berkeley (home to another UC campus)  or Palo Alto (Stanford University), or in other campus towns like Ithaca, New York (Cornell University)  and Boulder, Colorado, the number for Professor Handy's hometown is still only 15 percent.  

Still more telling, a similar percentage of children cycle to their soccer games, even though most don't have to go very far.  

According to Professor Handy's research, whether or not children cycle to their soccer games is influenced by whether or not their parents also ride.  Ditto for whether or not they--or their older siblings who attend high school--ride their bikes to classes.  Of course, as in most places, whether or not kids ride to their high schools is also a function of whether or not they have drivers' licenses or access to automobiles.

Interestingly, according to the research, friends' and peers' attitudes about cycling have little or no effect on whether kids or teenagers ride to school or their soccer games.  Based on my own admittedly informal observations, I would say the same for whether or not adults ride their bikes to work.

Another factors that  helps to depress the numbers of cyclists who ride to school or work is the perception of safety:  People often express fear of traffic, crime or other factors.  (I often hear such anxieties expressed here in New York.) Perhaps not surprisingly, women express these fears more than men do.  And then there are those who simply don't like to ride bikes.

Nobody seems to know how to influence that last category. (I failed with a spouse and a couple of romantic partners!) They, like those who come from families who don't ride or worry about their safety, are not pedaling to work because of their attitudes about cycling.  And, as Professor Handy says, attitudes are even more important than infrastructure in getting people to forsake the steering wheel and grab a handlebar.

If there is anything discouraging about Professor Handy's conclusions, it is this:  She came to them in one of the few places in the United States with two generations' worth of "cycling memory", if you will.  In most other places in this country, most drivers have little or no idea of how to act around cyclists because they haven't ridden a bike  on a street, for transportation or other utilitarian purposes, since they were children--if indeed they even rode then.  In much of Europe, by contrast, far greater numbers of drivers are still cyclists, or have ridden recently in their lives.  And they are more likely to have come from families with at least one member who regularly cycled.  

I offer myself as an example:  I am the first--and, to date, only-- member of my family to regularly ride a bike beyond the age at which I could hold a drivers' license.  (I am also the first to do a number of other things, such as earn a high school diploma and college degree, and to do things that are the subject of my other blog!)   But I am an anomaly:    I simply found that I enjoyed riding and never lost that love.  I rode, even with a complete lack of infrastructure , very little cycling culture and few peers who rode. And I continue to ride. On the other hand, I have never been successful at enticing anyone to ride who wasn't already inclined to do so. The complaints and excuses were the same then as the ones I hear now.  

As Professor Handy points out, the real challenge is to change those attitudes--if they can indeed be changed.  She seems to think it possible.

Miles, Sounding Off The Miles

As I've mentioned in other posts, tatoos aren't my thing.  Sometimes I enjoy seeing other people's "tats", but I have never had any inclination to "get inked" myself.

Perhaps I still hold, on some level, the attitudes I was inculcated with:  that only sailors, Harley riders and other rough-and-tumble characters get themselves tatooed.  If so, I don't know whether, let alone how or when, I'll change.  

But if I were going to use a part of my body as a "canvas", if you will, I might consider this:

This image, etched and painted in the King of Ink tatoo studio of Ankara, Turkey, depicts the late, great Miles Davis as the denizens of then-Bohemian Greenwich Village remember him:  astride his bicycle, peering through his huge spectacles.  Even if he didn't wear such distinctive outfits (never the same one more than once, according to people who recall him), he would have been a memorable sight on his bike.

Still, it's hard to imagine that the sight of him was more memorable than his music!

What The Tide Left

I had luck with the wind again today.  I was glad because it was stronger than it was yesterday.  Or, perhaps, it just seemed that way because most of today's ride took me along shorelines.  Also, the sky was even clearer than it was yesterday, and large bodies of water magnify the sun's rays. Sometimes I think long exposure to direct sunlight tires me out even more than the wind, or anything else.

Anyway, I rode to Point Lookout today.  It's not as long as the ride to Connecticut, and it's almost entirely flat.  There is one fairly long gradual incline up Woodhaven Boulevard from Jamaica Avenue to Forest Park.  Even though it's near the end of my ride, it isn't very arduous.

Best of all, the wind was at my back, as it was from the time I turned on to the Veterans Memorial Bridge from Rockaway Beach.  That meant, of course, that I pedaled into the wind on my way out, and that it blew from the Atlantic onto my right side on my way to the Point, and onto my left on my way back.

The thing that struck me most about today's ride, though, was at Point Lookout.  The tide was out--and I mean really out.  There were no boats in the water.  Most telling, though, was this:

A family picnic on the sandbar!  I've never seen it so long or wide.  It was like a boardwalk, with all of the people walking their dogs and toddlers toddling on it.  Naturally, no one was fishing.

Now, I am no climate scientist.  In fact, I can't claim to be a scientist of any sort.  So perhaps I am revealing my ignorance in describing the observation you are about to read and the question I will pose from it.

As I understand it, the extreme blizzards so many places experienced during the past few winters are actually a result of global warming:  Increasing temperatures, especially in the oceans, are causing the atmospheric instability that leads to all kinds of storms, including blizzards and ice storms as well as hurricanes and tornadoes.  

So I wonder whether tides that are receding further out (I've noticed this in other places besides Point Lookout) are a result of the rising sea level.  Just as the tides are higher and stronger, could the pull-back also be stronger--enough to pull the tides further from the shoreline when they recede?

Again, I emphasize that I am not a scientist:  What I am saying and asking is based entirely on observation and logic.  Also, I know it doesn't directly relate to cycling.  But what I see in the oceans, on the shorelines, in the hills or anyplace else is part of my rides.  I can't help but to wonder what I will and won't see on future rides!

This Branch Did Not Break (Apologies to James Wright)

Today I rode Arielle, my Mercian Audax, to Greenwich, Connecticut.

I am so lucky:  I had the day this day off, and conditions were perfect, by almost anybody's definition:  It wasn't too warm and on the way up, I rode into a breeze that flickered shadows of leaves and waves of light.  And I sailed home, or so it seemed!

I had no great epiphanies or revelations, just a good time.  And I really didn't want much more. 

But I did notice something that somehow escaped me on previous rides.  Greenwich Commons--the site of the war memorial and some lovely gardens--also has a few big, beautiful old trees.  One of them towers over the gate.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw this:

Oh, no!  I cried out loud.  I thought the tree, which has stood for, probably, longer than anything else in the area, had a branch snapped off in a storm.  I couldn't, however, recall any wind or rain we'd had recently that would have been strong enough to do such a thing--unless, of course, one of the storms that missed us in Astoria struck Connecticut.

Turns out, there was no break, no fracture, no rupture.  The branch simply curved downward, possibly from its own weight.  Whether it can remain that way, I don't know.  Whatever happens, I hope it stands long enough for me to see it on another ride, and another, and another...

Justice: It's Bigger Than Bikes

In previous posts, you might say that I've touched upon the sociology and demographics of cycling.  What I wrote in those posts was not confirmed by empirical data; rather, it was based on my observations.

I realize now that, in one way or another, all of those posts relate to this question:  Who cycles out of necessity, and who cycles by choice?

In one sense, you might say that I'm a cyclist of necessity:  I can't imagine my life without riding.  There is also another way in which I'm that sort of rider:  I not only don't own a car; I also don't have a driver's license.

Those circumstances, however, are a result of choices I've made:  Through most of my adult life, I have lived in large cities.  When I haven't, I still managed--whether through choice or chance--to be in situations where I could get to work, school or wherever else I needed or wanted to be without having to drive. 

Now, I must admit that I had the opportunity to make such choices.  While I have never been rich (at least not by the standards of any developed country), I have education and skills--and, at times, have had the connections--that have allowed me some leeway in my choice of jobs and living arrangements. I have been able to turn down jobs, or leave one job for another, in order to have manageable (i.e., an hour or so on my bike or mass transit) commute--and to have time to ride my bike for fun.

It's also not hard to believe that my race and my former gender had something to do with my ability to base much in my life around cycling.  After all, as I've recounted in some of my earlier posts, nearly all of the "serious" and recreational cyclists I used to see while riding during my youth were male.  Even though I see increasing numbers of female cyclists (including sometime riding partners of mine), the vast majority are still male. 

While there isn't a law prohibiting women from cycling, I think there are (yes, still are) some cultural deterrents, especially for women of certain backgrounds.  Let's face it:  Unless you have exceptionally thick skin, or are just extraordinary in some way, you aren't likely to do something unless you see someone who's like you, in whatever way, doing it.  And unless you have an unusually independent sort of spirit, you probably won't do something if people around you give subtle (or not-so-subtle) cues not to do it.  Just ask any woman who wanted to be an engineer but got steered into nursing or elementary school teaching--or being a stay-at-home mother.

(Mind you:  I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with a woman working as a nurse or teacher, or staying at home with her children.  If a woman is going to choose such a career, I want her to do exactly that:  choose.)

Would I be a dedicated cyclist--one who takes day trips to neighboring states and tours in other parts of this country and the world-- today if I had grown up as a girl named Justine instead of a boy named Nicholas? Of course, I have no way of knowing the answer to that.  I can't help but to think, though, given the milieu in which I, and other women my age were reared, that it would be less likely.

Likewise, I have to wonder whether I'd be riding because I can and because I want to had I grown up in a lower socio-economic class (You might say that I was blue collar-near the-threshold-of-middle class.) and not had the opportunities to expand my horizons (if not my bank account) that came my way.  And, of course, I have to wonder whether those opportunities would have come to someone of my background had I been living in the gender I am now.  Or if my skin had been darker.  Or I spoke another language as my first, or had a different cultural or religious background from mine.

Jenna Burton

I found myself thinking about those questions a few days ago, when I wrote about the folks who are trying to make Reading, Pennsylvania more hospitable for those who ride because they have no other means of transportation:  the very sorts of riders of whom most urban planners and cycling advocates are unaware.  I am thinking about them, again, after coming across this article describing the work of Jenna Burton, one of the co-founders of Red, Bike and Green (RBG), as well as other community activists and groups who are working to not only get more people of color and women on bikes, but also to bring more cycling infrastructure to neighborhoods that are poorer and darker than the ones that usually get the bike lanes and bike-share ports.

An RBG ride in Atlanta

RBG has expanded from Ms. Burton's adopted hometown of Oakland, California into other cities.  With a slogan of "It's bigger than bikes!", the group aims to use bikes as tools to improve the health of Black people, support Black-owned businesses and to work on reducing pollution and other environmental problems that disproportionately affect Black and other "minority" communities. 

Even more important, people like Ms. Burton and groups like the Ovarian PsychoCycles are trying to address some of the inequalities that accompany bicycle infrastructure inequalities. A Black or Hispanic cyclist has a 25 percent greater chance than a White cyclist of being killed while riding.  That is, at least in part, a result of another disturbing reality:  low-income areas (which are most likely to be Black or Hispanic) are where the most crashes involving cyclists and pedestrians take place.  That, in spite of the fact that those are the places where people are least likely to walk or cycle (unless they have no other choice), or to do any other kind of exercise.  Those neighborhoods are also where the most dangerous streets, with the highest rates of crashes, are found.  That, along with other factors endemic to such communities--like high levels of noise and low air quality--tend to deter people from cycling, or engaging in other kinds of exercise or outdoor activities.

Ovarian Psycho-Cycles

So, perhaps, it's not an exaggeration to say that environmental, racial and economic justice, as well as gender equality, will be furthered by making it easier, more practical and more affordable for people from every sort of background to ride bicycles, for transportation and for recreation.  In other words, it's not a stretch to say that if we want a better world, we can't leave it all up to white guys in spandex, though they can be valuable partners--and can even be a lot of fun. And I'm not saying that because I once was a white guy in Spandex!)

Propelled To Insanity

If you are of a certain age (i.e., my age), you recall the early years of Saturday Night Live.  Some of the most memorable moments came during some of the shows-within-the-show. 

One such show was "What If?", which took zany, absurd takes on historical figures and events. One episode featured Superman landing in Nazi Germany instead of Kansas; another had Napoleon fighting the Battle of Waterloo with a B 52 bomber. Perhaps the most famous episode of all was the "What If Eleanor Roosevelt Could Fly?" sketch. 

That got me to thinking:  What if the Wright Brothers couldn't--or didn't--fly? 

Or what if they had stuck to their original occupations as bike mechanics and designers?

I found this propellered bike on Strangefunkidz.com, but couldn't find any other information about it.  I'd love to know how it was built and how much it was ridden--or whether it's still intact!
 

My Two-Bit Observations Of A "Smart" Lock

A few years ago, it seemed that if you were a Smart Young Person --or just wanted to look like one--you came up with an idea for some tech gadget that did nothing you couldn't have done without it.  

And you "crowdsourced" it through a Kickstarter campaign.

Some of those ideas never came into fruition.  Others took longer to execute and deliver than anyone anticipated.  Many more, though, simply were not what they were hoped or hyped to be.

Nearly three years ago, some folks in San Francisco (where else?) concocted the Bitlock, which promised "keyless bike security" and "low-cost bike sharing", and launched a Kickstarter campaign to pay for its initial development and manufacturing costs.  

According to its developers, Bitlock allows users to lock and unlock their bikes based on the proximity of their smartphones to their bikes, or directly within the app.  That, of course, allows users to ditch those clangy, clunky metal keys they've been carrying.  It also allows users to share bikes by allotting and revoking digital keys as they see fit.  

Upon launching their campaign, Bitlock's developers promised that their product "cannot be defeated using any kind of bolt cutter or hacksaw" and that its internal electronics were sealed and waterproofed to operate "under an extended temperature range".  Perhaps best of all, its projected battery life was five years, based on five locking/unlocking motions a day.

According to the company's initial press release, the program for the lock also show the location (based on the smartphone's GPS) where the bike was last locked, as well as activity data such as time and distance ridden.  And if a user loses his or phone, there were other alternative ways of opening the lock available.

Well, it seems that three years later, Bitlock has experienced many of the problems that have bedeviled other Kickstarted tech gadgetry:  delays in manufacturing and shipping, poor quality control (at least in early batches) and issues with suppliers.  This, naturally, has led to customer complaints  and the company trying to do damage control.

While I respect the efforts of the Bitlock's makers, I still have to wonder why, exactly why anyone still wants one.  More to the point:  Who needs it?  

Perhaps even more to the point:  I have to wonder whether this lock--or any other electronic lock--is actually more vulnerable than a lock with a metal key.  After all, hackers have found ways to break into "keyless" cars.  Perhaps I am uninformed about such matters, but I would think that it would take more time to pick a lock with a conventional key than it would to hack a "smart" lock.  Also, to pick a conventional lock, the would-be thief would have to put his or her hands on it, while a hacker does not have to be in such proximity as long as he or she has a way to replicate or bypass a code or password.

Even if the flaws of Bitlock or other electronic locks are worked out, I don't anticipate buying one:  I don't have a Smartphone and don't plan on getting one any time soon!

Off The Railroad And Onto Bikes: Reading, Pennsylvania

Whenever a city builds bike lanes or starts a bike share program, there is resentment.  As often as not, it's voiced as a class argument:  Cyclists are seen as young, rich and "privileged", and that poor working blokes are subsidizing their fads and fetishes.

One reason for this, I believe, is that most urban bike lanes have been built, and most bike share ports installed, in central downtown areas or in nearby areas where the young and affluent (who, as often as not, come from someplace else) congregate.  As an example, here in New York, the first Citibike ports installed outside of Manhattan were placed in the Brooklyn and Queens neighborhoods closest to Manhattan:  the "Hipster Hook" communities situated directly across the East River and at the ends of bridges.  You won't find many marked paths or  Citibikes in East New York or South Jamaica, or even in relatively affluent (but further from Manhattan and less hip) areas like Mill Basin and Fresh Meadows.

What is often forgotten, however, is that in neighborhoods like the South Bronx and East New York--and in cities like Newark--there are people who ride to work, or wherever else they need to be, not because it's fashionable, but because they can't afford any other way besides walking.

They don't have the funds or a credit card to buy a new Linus "Dutch" bike or a Trek Chelsea.  The bikes they ride, in fact, may have come from tag sales or dumpsters, or been given to them.  Those machines may have parts that were not intended for them:  For example, a wheel may have been replaced by one of a different size.  And those riders aren't stopping in the trendy bike cafes for Marin Macchiatos or Linus Lattes.  If anything, they might be holed up in the local Dunkin' Donuts, if they can afford even that.

The communities in which they live have low percentages of people who ride to work.  Part of the reason for that is, well, a lot of them don't work:  They lost jobs and weren't able to find others, or they didn't have jobs in the first place.  

Many of them live in areas where there is little or no mass transit--and, even if it was available, it would be a strain on their budgets, if not financially out of reach altogether.  Or the nearest bus stop or train station is, say, a 45-minute walk away (as is the case for some residents of Red Hook, Brooklyn).  That makes it difficult, to say the least, to keep appointments with doctors, government agencies and the like, let alone get to work on time and have any time left for anything besides commuting and working.

Reading resident Harrison Walker doesn't own a car and bikes everywhere.

Almost everything I have said in the previous four paragraphs can be said about the city of Reading, Pennsylvania and its people.  Once a thriving railroad hub (If you've played the classic version of Monopoly, you've bought and/or sold the Reading Railroad!) situated halfway between the anthracite coal mines of central Pennsylvania and Philadelphia, this city was beset by many of the problems older industrial cities like Detroit and Cleveland experienced when their industries died or moved away.   

Five years ago, the New York Times published an article declaring Reading the poorest city (of 60,000 or more people) in the United States.  More than 40 percent of its residents were living below the Federal poverty line.  Things seem not to have changed much:  While the official unemployment rate has dropped, at 8.3 percent it still is three percentage points higher than the national average.  And, of course, that number doesn't include the people who gave up on trying to find a job or whose unemployment benefits ran out--or those who returned to school or entered some sort of retraining program after they could not find jobs in the industries in which they had been working.

Those un-, under- and never-employed Reading residents make up most of the city's cyclists. "Reading's poor, and a lot of people who live here are poor," explains Dani Motze of ReDesign Reading, a nonprofit group that's trying to revitalize the city.  "[S]o bike riding is how they get from place to place."  

The demography of Reading's cyclists may be a reason why the city hasn't attracted the attention of urban planners involved with cycling infrastructure--until now.  Craig Peiffer became the city's zoning administrator a few years ago.  He was shocked at what he found.  "As a planner here in Pennsylvania," he relates, "I've seen smaller towns--significantly smaller towns--where they were already putting in designated bike lanes."

He and a colleague decided they were going to make Reading a more hospitable place for cyclists. However, their aim in doing so would be different from what has motivated officials in other cities to make them more "bike friendly."  In those communities, bike amenities are often used to attract outsiders--especially affluent millennials and sustainability advocates.  "Other cities have used biking because biking is cool and hip," declares Brian Kelly, executive director of ReDesign Reading.  He has no problem with that, he explains, but that is not the point of what he, Peiffer and others are trying to do in Reading.  

Jason Orth, manager of the Reading Bike Hub, fixes a bike for a customer.

Instead, they are--in addition to working on acquiring the money for bike lanes--making cycling more affordable and convenient for the city's residents.  Bike racks have been installed on all of the city's buses.  The city has also launched a bike-share program.  But, perhaps most important of all, it opened Reading's first bike shop. Unlike the bike boutiques of trendy neighborhoods, the Reading Bike Hub, in addition to conducting safety workshops, sells used bikes and affordable parts--and loans tools.  "If I were to go buy this tool, I'd have to go to Sears,"  says Harrison Walker, who rides his bike "everywhere".  The tool he had just borrowed from the Hub would "probably cost upwards of $20 just for this one wrench," he observes.

I am glad that the folks at National Public Radio, where I learned of Reading's programs, were able to see and communicate some of the challenges faced by people who are forced to rely on their bicycles for transportation.  It is only with such knowledge that American cities can make bicycles a viable transportation option for all of their citizens.