Riding The Divide For The Stories

Some of my best memories from my bicycle tours are the conversations and other interactions I had with local people.  

I'm thinking now of the old couple living by the point where the Garonne bends and begins its opening to the sea.  They took great pride in knowing the exact moments, twice a day, when the tide rolled in.  I'm also recalling my ride with You Sert, a PURE guide, that took us to Cambodian farms where one woman practiced traditional healing and her kids and their cat played with me, and another where a woman guided me through weaving grass for a roof.  

These encounters might be different from the ones that await Nate Hegyi. I feel confident, however, that whomever he meets and whatever he shares with them will be interesting.

A Public Radio-affiliated reporter in Boise, Idaho, Hegyi is embarking on a 900-mile bicycle trip along the Continental Divide.  He plans to visit eastern Idaho's ranching towns; Missoula, Montana; Wyoming's oil and gas areas and  the mountainous country of northern Colorado before ending his trip in Greeley.

Along the way he plans to file radio stories, post to an online blog and, in late October, release a podcast he will produce.  

"It's been a tumultuous year," Hegyi said.  "A pandemic grips the region and the economy is in freefall. But the voices of folks in the Mountain West's small towns and rural communities are often unheard in regional and national media outlets."  One purpose of the trip, he explained, is to "learn more about the area's residents and hear their stories."  

I am sure that whatever stories he hears aren't the ones one can hear from a car, tour bus or resort hotel!

Timing

Yesterday, Connecticut.  Today, Point Lookout. Sensing a pattern?

I'll bet they did

though it's not the same as mine.  How else could they time their feeding to the receding tide?

These folks, on the other hand, know only that it's a summer day:

Social Distancing In The Sky

Lately, on bike rides, I've been noticing unusual cloud patterns.

Perhaps the endorphins cycling releases is causing me to see more.  Or is something unusual going in the environment?

I mean, for a moment, I thought those clouds were practicing  social distancing.

The rest of my ride was fabulous.  And, yes, I practiced social distancing. You never know who's watching.

On Two Wheels To The 19th

The United States became an independent nation in 1776.  I would argue, however, that it took nearly two centuries for it to become anything like democracy, and that this evolution came in stages.

The last of those stages came with the Voting Rights Act in 1965.  Before that, the most important event in this evolution came one hundred years ago yesterday, when the 19th Amendment became part of the US Constitution.  It was written to guarantee women the right to vote.

(Interestingly, a few states, mainly in the western part of the nation, gave women the franchise while they were still territories.)

I mention the 19th because, well, it matters to me and because bicycles figure into it.  Although Susan B. Anthony didn't live to exercise the right she fought for, she did see changes, however gradual, in what was considered proper and sometimes even legal for women.  

As I've mentioned on other posts, she acknowledged the role of two wheels and two pedals in emancipating us:  

Let me tell you what I think of bicycling.  I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world.  It gives women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance.  I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel...the picture of free, untrammeled womanhood.

She beautifully described what kept me cycling during and since my gender transition.  I feel free and happy on my bicycle. Perhaps most important of all, I feel complete autonomy over my body and person.  If that is not a definition of becoming a woman, a full human being--or of feminism--I don't know what is.

A Field Without Dreamers

This afternoon I rode, again, to and around Flushing Meadows-Corona Park. On my way back, I passed CitiField, where the New York Mets play their home games.

Though I’m seeing more vehicular traffic on the streets, I encountered an empty parking lot that, at this time of year, would normally be full.

The reason is that live fans aren’t allowed to attend games.  The players are. Instead, playing before cardboard cutout figures.

It’s hard to imagine such figures lining the route of the Tour de France or Giro d’Italia!

Trigger Warning

Today's "Sunday funnies" post has nothing to do with cycling.  And I am including a "trigger warning."

More than a few times in my youth, I took chances I wouldn't take today.  Sometimes I was seeking thrills; other times, I thought I was trying to prove something to someone when I was really trying to prove it to--or run from it in--myself.

If I do say so myself, though, I don't think I did anything quite as dangerous as what, apparently, has become a fad: gun enthusiasts pointing their loaded pistols between their legs and posting the photos on Facebook.  

Well, the law of averages says that, eventually, one of them would discharge his weapon--and not the one he intended.

He posted a picture of himself in the hospital.  He was wearing a mask.  

Perhaps he'll be nominated for a Darwin Award.

He Wants To Prevent "The Kiss Of Death"

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I am not wholly enthusiastic about bike lanes.  In part, my attitude includes remnants of the late John Forrester's influence early in my cycling life.  I subscribed to his philosophy of "vehicular cycling" which, as the name implies, calls for cyclists to ride as if they were any other vehicle on the road.  This meant that, like him, I detested bike lanes.  He argued that bike lanes turn cyclists into second-class citizens and, worse, put them in more danger than they'd experience if they were to ride in the roadway.

These days, my lack of enthusiasm for bike lanes is rooted in something to which Forester sometimes alluded, and which I have experienced all too often:  those lanes, particularly here in the States, are, as often as not, poorly- conceived, designed and constructed.  

Dave O'Neill learned that lesson the hard way.  He has cycled across the country and "thinks nothing of" cyclng 150 miles a day.  Two weeks ago, he was cycling from the Nubbe Lighthouse in York, Maine to his home in Greenland, New Hampshire.  While pedaling through Portsmouth, a city that borders Greenland to the east, he experienced one of our worst nightmares:  He was "doored."

He was riding down the city's Middle Street bike lane, his friend ahead of him and his wife behind him.  Like too many recently-constructed bike lanes, it rims a curb and is separated from street traffic by a line of parked cars.

I avoid using such lanes whenever possible for two reasons:

  1.) Drivers often pull into, or park, illegally.  Sometimes they do so out of carelessness or disdain for others. Other times, lanes and parking spaces are not clearly delineated and drivers mistakenly park in the lane.  

2.)  In such a lanes, cyclists are riding to the right of parked cars.  Specifically, they are pedaling by the passenger side of parked cars.  In my experience, passengers are more likely than drivers to embark or disembark from vehicles--especially taxis and Ubers--without paying attention to their surroundings.

Dave O'Neill at the Middle Street Bike Lane

Dave O'Neill experienced a "perfect storm" if you will:  A passenger-side door opened on a car that was illegally parked. Worse, a utility pole abutted the street right next to where the door opened. "I had zero time to react," he recalls.  

When the car door flung into his path, it stopped his bike in its tracks and sent him airborne.  He  landed face-first. "I had gravel in my mouth," he says. "It was the kiss of death."  Still, he says, his injuries would have been "much worse" had he hit the pole instead of the door.

As a recent face-plant victim, I empathize with him.  I also recall a similar situation I faced before I started this blog.  I was taking one of my first post-surgery rides in the 34th Avenue bike lane, not far from my apartment.  That lane was configured in the same way as the one on Middle Street in Portsmouth, with the curb on the cyclists' right and a lane of parked cars on the left.  A passenger opened his door into my path.  

Fortunately for me, the door struck only my left side.  I wasn't seriously injured, but I got a pretty nasty bruise on my side.  And, for a couple of weeks, I looked like I was pregnant on my left side.

By the way:  I haven't ridden the 34th Avenue lane since that incident.  If Dave O'Neill doesn't ride the Middle Street lane, I couldn't blame him.  He believes that lane should be deconstructed and parked cars returned to the curb before someone experiences what he calls "the kiss of death."

Purple Reign?

Today I took Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike, for a spin.

By some strange coincidence, she took me by this garden:

And I was wearing a purple top.  Is she more of a fashionista than I realized? Or am I more of a fashionista than I was willing to admit?

The Summer Of Pre-Love?

COVID-19 has claimed all manner of victims and casualties.

In the latter category are restaurants and stores that closed for good.  I hope that  Broadway Silk will not join them.  In addition to  beautiful fabrics and sewing needs--including rare and unusual buttons and zippers --they sell handcrafted scarves, pens, bracelets, purses and other items.  The sign announcing their "temporary" closure on March 18 is still attached to the door.

On the other hand, there are businesses that have become victims of their newfound prosperity.  One of the first such enterprises I heard about was a funeral home that had to turn people away. Ironically, they are in the same boat, if you will, as many bike shops.

These days, most bikes, components and accessories come from China or other Asian countries.  Those supply chains have been disrupted.  Even bikes and parts that are still made in Europe or Japan are difficult to find because international transportation has been interrupted.

As a result, many bike shops are accepting trade-ins and buying used bikes wherever they can be found.  James Moore, the owner of Moore's Bike Shop in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, says that "folks call, then text me photos."  If the bike "meets our strategy," he explains, he will "go and make an in-person photo and pay on the spot."

His shop has "a reputation for good refurbished bicycles," so he doesn't expect the new bike shortage to slow him down.  Still, he's not taking any chances:  He recently bought billboard space in town and taken out newspaper ads.

Even though there's no shame in buying a bike that isn't new, especially in times like these, it seems that nobody wants to use the word "used."  Sites like Craigslist and eBay refer to "pre-owned" bikes.  Moore likes to call them "pre-loved."

Could 2020 be The Summer Of Pre-Love?

 

Steam And Heat

For the past five months, gyms have been closed here in New York.  That means lots of people can use, not only treadmills and exercise bikes, but also saunas and steam rooms.

During the past few days, though, it's been steamier than A Wish Upon Jasmine. (Picking on Fifty Shades of Gray is way too easy!) I mean, it's literally been steamy.  

This is what I saw from the shorline of Greenwich, Connecticut, where I rode the other day.

And this is what I saw from Point Lookout, on the South Shore of Long Island, where I rode yesterday.  That same mist filled the horizon along the Rockaways.

It was odd to see such heavy fog over the water when, only a kilometer or two inland, the sun burned through haze and on my skin.

So, as temperatures soared past 33C (92F), I pedaled 145 kilometers, with some hills, and 120 kilometers (flat) on consecutive days.  During any of the past few summers, this might not have been normal.  But this is the first time I've ridden as much in two days since my crash and hospital stay.

Oh, and I got to sweat even more than I would have in any sauna or steam room.  And I enjoyed a refreshment no gym could have provided!  

Urban Planning, In Brief

As an urban cyclist, I agree:

Mellow Johnny Sends A Loud, Clear Message

I love food and music.  So, some of you may find it unfathomable, or even criminal, that I've never been to Austin, Texas.

Perhaps I'll get there one day.  In addition to the sounds and savory stuff, there's another reason to visit.

I mean, even if you don't care about bicycles, how can you not want to check out a place called "Mellow Johnny's Bike Shop?"

Apparently, they're part of a chain in the area, each store with its own management.  So, a policy at Mellow Johnny's in Austin might not prevail at MJ's in, for example, Fort Worth.

Actually, that scenario is not as hypothetical as I made it seem. In fact, the Austin shop has done something that the managers of the Fort Worth store aren't--and don't agree with.

Will Black, the general manager Mellow Johnny's--Austin, has announced, on social media, that the shop won't be selling any more bikes to the city's police department.  "It was a staff-wide store decision," he said, "that we discussed for a pretty good length of time to make sure we were all on the same page and doing the right thing." 

No one incident sparked the decision, he explained.  Rather, he and his employees were concerned that, during Black Lives Matter protests in the city, officers were using the bikes to block Black Lives Matter demonstrators.

On Wednesday, when Black announced the decision, Mellow Johnny's was in the second year of a five-year contract with the police department, which has more than 150 bicycle patrol officers in its downtown area police command.   The shop's action follows similar moves in the industry.  BikeCo, the North American distributor of Fuji bicycles, suspended sales to police forces in June, citing the use of bikes as weapons in protest marches.  That move is significant because Fuji had been one of the major bicycle suppliers to police forces in the United States.

"We are not anti-police," Mellow Johnny's post continued. "We believe our local police will protect us from the threats we are receiving right now" on social media.  Thankfully, there have also been messages of support--which, I suppose, isn't too surprising, given Austin's reputation as a "progressive" community--and the sense of fairness and justice I have seen in cyclists throughout my decades of riding and working in shops.

The First Time Without Her

Around this time last year, I had just returned from my trip to Greece.

And it was my mother's birthday.  Little did I, or anyone, know it would be her last.

Before taking a quick ride out to Flushing Meadow Corona Park (site of the climactic Men In Black scene and the "the valley of ashes in The Great Gatsby), I called my father.  Though he is not religious, he went to church and lit a candle in honor of my mother, who was not terribly religious but attended mass and lit candles.  We agreed that it was strange--and, for him, lonely--to experience her birthday without her.

Of course, I was thinking about those rides I took along the ocean during my visits with her and Dad in Florida and my high school days in New Jersey.  She never rode with me (or anyone, as far as I know) but she never discouraged me from cycling.  She seemed to understand that it was, and always would be, part of who I am.

As she is.

It Wasn't Hiroshima, But....

Seventy-five years ago today, American soldiers dropped the world's first nuclear bomb on Hiroshima, Japan.

I will not try to debate whether the bombing, or the one in Nagaski three days later, was necessary or ethical.  The effect of those blasts was, I believe, best summed up two millenia earlier in a Calgacus speech, as recalled by Tacitus:  Ubi solitudenum facient, pacem appelant (They make a wasteland and call it peace.)

I have seen the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, and of various natural disaster.  I cannot, however, pretend to have ever seen devastation resembling anything wrought by those weapons. 

Even what I saw yesterday pales in comparison.

On the day after a not-quite-hurricane struck this area, I went for a ride in the direction of Connecticut.  Along the Pelham Bay Park trail, I had to detour around downed limbs and other parts of trees.  Still, my ride was going relatively smoothly until I crossed into Westchester County:

Less than a mile north of the city/county line, this tree toppled onto Mount Tom Road in Pelham.  So I backed up a bit and took a right, figuring that the road would take me, if in a more roundabout way, the direction of my ride.

Didn't get very far.

On that road, a couple of guys were sitting in their car.  "Be careful out there," the driver yelled.  He explained that his friend had just been out cycling and encountered broken power lines as well as downed trees.

At his suggestion, I cut through the golf course into a residential area of Pelham Manor.  I knew that I would end up at or near Boston Post Road, a.k.a. US 1, where I could re-orient myself.  At worst, I figured, I could ride US 1 for a bit, as it has a decent shoulder--and, I thought, was less likely to contain obstacles and hazards like the ones I'd encountered and been warned about:

So much for that idea, right?  I turned down another road blocked by a tree.  For a moment, I thought perhaps the storm was some cosmic conspiracy that threw down those trees as a "wall" to keep riff-raff like me out of the upper reaches of Westchester County and Connecticut.

Of course, that thought was no more rational than any comparison between what I was seeing and what the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki carried with them. 

What My Recovery Is Telling Me.

"Recovery tells you what it needs."

Madelyn, a social worker/addiction counselor uttered those words of wisdom years ago.  I worked with her, for a time, when I was conducting writing workshops for kids whose family members were in, or recovering from, addictions.

Her words are making a lot of sense to me now. To her pearl of wisdom, I would add that a recovery tells you what you're ready to do.   I want to ride as much, and at the same pace, as I did before my accident.  If I'd crashed back when I was working with her, it might have been possible.  Actually, I believe that it will be.  It's just taking longer than it might've in my youth.

Still, Madelyn probably would have told me--even then--that I was doing well.  (She wasn't a cyclist, but I think she spent some time in a gym.)  The other day, I did another ride to Point Lookout:  120 km round-trip.  Two days before that, I took my first ride to Connecticut since my crash.

My trek to the Nutmeg State was particularly gratifying, not only because it was longer (140 km) and hillier.  When I got home, I feel as if I'd finished the trip I took the day I crashed, when my ride back from Greenwich ended in New Rochelle, about 30 kilometers from my apartment.

I was happy to have done both of those rides, but they further enhanced the meaning of my old collaborator's words:  I was more tired at the end of the Connecticut ride than I'd been the last time I completed it. Oh, and even though I slathered my skin with sunscreen, my skin took on quite the lobster hue.  Whenever my skin absorbs a lot sun, I get sleepy.

I got what I needed before, during and after I rode.   Madelyn knew what she was talking about.

The Same Sky?

Today Isais blew through town.

To be fair, it wasn't quite as bad as I expected it to be.  Yes, we had a lot of rain this morning and early this afternoon. The wind broke a few twigs off trees and cardboard signs off stores.  

Worse was predicted.  The Weather Service even issued a tornado watch for this city, and a warning for Monmouth County, NJ (where I went to high school) and Suffolk County, about 50 kilometers from here.

As clouds thickened, the sky darkened, so the watch/warning was in my mind. So was this cloud formation I saw the other day:

It's hard to believe I was looking at the same sky today.

The Real Uses Of Bike Tools

Do you have a Campagnolo corkscrew?

Or a Park Tool pizza cutter?

Or a Maillard Helicomatic freewheel remover with a built-in bottle opener?

Well, then, you are misguided.  A real cyclist knows you don't need food- (or drink-) specific utensils:

I mean, you can eat pizza with a bicycle fork.  Right?

Well, all right:  As a New Yorker of Italian heritage, I would never, ever use anything besides my fingers to handle  Neopolitan or Sicilian slices. (A person of my background also does not allow any sort of topping on her pizza.  Pineapples?  Barbecued beef?  They're like chocolate chips in a bagel, as far as I'm concerned.)

So what do you eat with your cone wrench?

Girls Rule--The World!

Half a century ago, Beryl Burton broke the 12-hour time trial record.  Not "just" the women's record, mind you:  She broke the record by a full eight kilometers (five miles), which is something like a runner shaving five minutes off a marathon record.  

Almost two years ago, Denise Mueller-Korenek rode faster on a bicycle than any woman--or man--before her.  She beat a then-23-year-old record by 27.3 kilometers, or 17 miles, per hour.  At 296 kilometers per hour (183.93 mph), she rode faster than an Airbus A340 taking off.

Now, here's another addition to the pantheon of women breaking men's records:  Cat Dixon and Raz Marsden pedaled a tandem bicycle around the world in 263 days, beating the previous record by 18 days.

Cat Dixon (l) and Raz Marsden (r)

Their 29,391 km (18,263 mile) route took them through 25 countries, where they encountered everything from a continent-wide heat wave in Europe, monsoons in Asia and brush fires in Australia.  

But perhaps their most daunting challenge was one they couldn't have anticipated.  They caught one of the last ferries back to their native England--where they began their ride--on the day, in March, when the COVID-19-induced travel ban began.

Oh, and they're only a few years younger than I am!

Their feat has been recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records.

(Thanks to "voyage of the eye" for alerting me to Ms. Dixon's and Marsden's story.)

Going For A Cyclist's Jugular--Or His Neck, Anyway

Getting knocked or pulled--or simply falling--off your bike is almost certain to cause you injury.   Trust me, I know!

So when someone sent along this news clip, I felt rage at the cops.




What isn't clear is what, exactly, the kid did to warrant that kind of treatment. The street was closed off so neither the young man, nor the friends who were riding with him, "obstructed" traffic, as one of the officers claimed.

It seems that those boys did little, if anything, more than to taunt the cops: something that kids of that age, who naturally thumb their noses at authority figures, are wont to do.  

I have to wonder, in the wake of George Floyd'ss murder, what one of those cops was thinking when he went for the kid's neck.

Nobody's Flying

Here in New York, some people have returned to their normal workplaces and most stores, bars and restaurants--at least, the ones that survived the shutdown--are open, if operating at a fraction of their normal capacities.

If anything, life is more restrictive for people coming into this city--or New York State--from about 30 other states or territories.  Visitors, or people returning from, those places are required to self-quarantine for 14 days.  An airline ticket, especially if it's purchased online (as most are these days), makes it easy  for authorities to track arrivals.

As a result, yesterday morning, I took 50 kilometre ride along the north shore of Queens and Nassau County--that is to say, directly under the paths of flights that would normally take off from or land in LaGuardia International Airport--and didn't see a single aircraft in the sky.

This brand-new LaGuardia terminal disproves, at least for now, the notion that "if you build it, they will come" (or go).

Or perhaps it shows that even if something has wings, it might not fly.

If even s/he isn't flying, who else is?

A Socially-Distanced Peloton?

For many Americans, the beginning of the baseball season, however belated and truncated, was a sign that things were "returning to normal."

(What does "normal" mean anymore?  What did it ever mean?)

Well, less than a week into the new season, something that the league commissioner, team owners and others who had a vested interest did not anticipate--or simply ignored the possibility of--happened.   It seems that they if they foresaw anything, they envisioned one or two players on a time getting infected, and isolated.  

Instead, 17 members of the Miami Marlins tested positive for the virus.  As a result, at least the next four games on the Marlins' schedule have been postponed.  Given that the schedule is already belated, truncated and compressed, no one really knows how or whether those games will be made up.  Moreover, other games have to be postponed or rescheduled because the Marlins were playing in Philadelphia, and the next team that comes to town will either have to reschedule or find a way not to use the visiting team's clubhouse.

More important, though, are the family members, friends, girlfriends, flight attendants, restaurant or bar workers or others those infected players may have contacted--not to mention members of opposing teams.

I mention the Marlins because their situation got me to wondering about other sports, including bicycle racing.  Baseball is not a "contact" sport; players typically come within six feet of each other only when they run or slide into a base.  On the other hand, in basketball players. for example,  are normally within inches of each other, and are wearing very little.

What I said about basketball players also applies to bicycle racers in the peloton.  In major races, a hundred or more riders are pedaling--and breathing hard--in an area about the size of an eat-in kitchen in a New York apartment. 

I thought about all of this when I learned that the Vuelta a Burgos was running.  It's the first international race held since coronavirus shutdowns began in March. Race organizers tout the precautions they are taking and, to date, no rider has tested positive.  Still, one has to wonder whether the race will end without anyone coming down with the virus.




The same question could be asked about the Tour de France.  It would normally end about now, but has been rescheduled for 29 August to 20 September.  Tour organizers have devised two different sets of protocols.  Still, one has to wonder whether either would be sufficient, especially there seem to be new outbreaks in parts of Europe as well as the US.

A socially-distanced peloton?  Perhaps a race could be run that way.  But would it lose something, like a basketball game in which defenders can't stand between a the basket and an opponent dribbling the ball.

Would Renewable Energy Sustain This?

Yesterday I advanced the crazy idea that Samuel Beckett may have been a sustainable transportation advocate.

If he were, he probably would have favored renewable energy.

So, would he have approved of this?

It looks like something someone would have created during the days of the "penny farthing" (high-wheeled bicycle) were folks thinking about "renewable energy" or "sustainable transportation."