The Ride He Didn’t Take

The laments were punctuated by more “what if’s” than on any other day in the history of New York City, my hometown.

That day, some experienced transit delays, vehicular breakdowns or other emergencies.  Others called in sick.  Still others changed or cancelled other routines for all sorts of reasons.

That morning, they didn’t go to their offices, shops, kitchens or other workplaces.  Some missed a day’s pay; others worried—only a for a while, as fate would have it—about their reputations, or even their jobs.  But only for a while, a short while.

Erik Timbol may have had a smaller worry, but his “what if” resonates just as much as those of the people who didn’t go to work—or who, for what other reasons, weren’t in the World Trade Center at 8:46 a.m. on 11 September 2001.

Erin Michelle Ray

He often joined Erin Michelle Ray—one of Nevada’s top triathletes—for a ride.  He’d planned on doing that, along with four other friends, last Thursday.  But he had to work a shift at Las Vegas Cyclery.

Thomas Chamberlin Trauger

Ms. Ray went for that ride, along with fellow Las Vegas residents Gerard Suarez Nieva, Michael Todd Murray, Aksoy Ahmet and Thomas Chamberlin Trauger.  

Michael Todd Murray 

They will not ride with Mr. Timbol—or anyone else, or by themselves—again.  A truck struck and killed them. 

Gerard Suarez Nieva

Aksoy Ahmet

The crash was ruled an accident.  Erik Timbol, however, was saved by fate-or a schedule-making decision.  In any event, I am sure he is grieving the loss of his training partners and friends: Erin Michelle Ray, Gerard Suarez Nieva, Michael Todd Murray, Akhsoy Ahmet and Thomas Chamberlin Trauger.

A Meditation On A Ride

Two hours at a time...

That seems to be the pace of my latest recovery.  I've been taking two-hour rides, mainly in and around my neighborhood.  I probably could ride longer, but I am following the orthopedic doctor's advice and erring on the side of caution.

Even so, the rides are invigorating--and interesting:

It would have been one thing to find something like this house in one of this city's Chinatowns--in lower Manhattan, Flushing or Sunset Park.  But this house is on Anthony Avenue, in a neighborhood that is almost entirely Hispanic and African American.  About half a mile to the north is Fordham University and the Arthur Avenue district, often called "the Little Italy of the Bronx."

When you look at the adjoining house, you can see that its bones, so to speak, are like those of nearby houses, even if the skin, if you will, is that of an ashram.  

When I looked at it for a couple of minutes, its location seemed a little less incongruent.  After all, I had to pedal up a hill--not steep or long, but a hill nonetheless--to reach it.  Also, since Zen practice is not (at least as I understand it) about social status or material wealth, it may make sense that it's in a neighborhood that hasn't been struck by gentrification.

Whatever the reasons why it is where it is, seeing it made the ride more interesting--and caused me to forget about the slowness of my recovery.  

It's All In Our Heads!

I think most of us agree that cycling is good--if not absolutely necessary--for our mental health.

Perhaps this is the reason why:

 

From Rateeshirt

Into The Sunset, With All Things Bicycle

 A gathering place "for all things bicycle."  It sounds like what this blog has become, doesn't it?

But, in real life, such a thing is in the works.  This week, the San Diego City Council approved plans for a $2.6 million regional center in Liberty Station.  

Part of the new center's site. (From the San Diego Union-Tribune)

The new center is slated to have areas for lectures, exhibits, safety seminars, group gatherings, bike repair and "limited" commercial activity.  

That last item may be one reason why the plans were approved:  Some of the project's  funds could come from fees paid by businesses that operate in the facility.  The sale of naming rights is also under consideration.  Whatever else is done, the San Diego County Bicycle will hold a fundraising campaign for the center. 

Part of the center will be in an abandoned US Navy building.  The site is near San Diego Bay where, I am told, the sunsets are spectacular.

You Can Ride--Perhaps--If It's "Contemplative"

Hanukkah began last night. 

Many moons ago, I taught in a yeshiva.  It was, to say the least, an interesting experience.  The rabbis and students were Orthodox, but not Hasidic.  So the boys--all of the students were boys--wore black ties and trousers with white shirts.  Yarmulkes topped their heads.  I dressed in a similar way--yes, I wore a yarmulke--when I was in the school.

You can imagine how I felt in such an atmosphere.  I was still living as male, but struggled with my gender identity.  The only female in the school--if you don't count me--was the secretary. She was the head rabbi's mother, and the head rabbi was not a young man!

I knew, probably, as much about Judaism as any non-Jew who grew up in Brooklyn would know--which is to say, more than most non-Jews in most other places, if I say so myself. Still, I had a lot of questions, especially when the holidays came around.  

For one thing, I wanted to know about gift-giving customs.  Many Reform and secular Jews celebrate Christmas and are just as extravagant about gifting and decorating as the Catholics I grew up with.  But the head rabbi confirmed what I'd thought:  the more Orthodox--which is to say, those  who were less or not at all "co-opted" by American/Christian/Capitalist-consumerist culture, in the eyes of someone like the rabbi--followed the custom of giving gelt.  

In the old Jewish communities of Europe, it was actual coinage, though most people today give chocolates shaped like coins and wrapped in gold-colored foil.  The rabbi said that it probably started with the prohibition against accepting money for teaching the Torah, which led to giving those teachers--who, as you can imagine, are highly esteemed in their communities--gifts which, according to Halakhic law (most interpretations of it, anyway), are not the same as payment for teaching.

(I think the same sort of logic motivated my, and other kids', parents in giving gifts to the nuns who taught in the Catholic school I attended:  In those days, they received only a very small amount of money to cover "personal expenses.")  

My old head rabbi (Hmm, that's kind of an odd phrase for me, isn't it?) also suggested that the custom of giving gelt to teachers may have had something to do with language and semantics.  What I didn't know, until he told me, is that Hanukkah actually means "dedication."  The word for education is very similar: hinnukh.

Anyway, I wanted to ask him this:  Does all of this mean that an Orthodox kid probably wouldn't get a bicycle for Hanukkah, but a Reform or secular kid might, for Hanukkah--or Christmas?

I did, however, on another occasion, ask him this:  On shabat  or high holy days, is it OK to ride a bicycle?  

From KilkennyCat Art

"The answer to that, like so many other questions, isn't black-and-white," he said.  (How many times have I said that to my students?)  But, he said, a purpose of shabat and the holy days is devotion, and anything that is a "distraction" from that should be avoided. 

 Of course, much is left to how one interprets the Torah--and, perhaps, the Hebrew language itself.  Almost everyone agrees that one shouldn't "work" during those days.  Some say that it simply means you shouldn't be doing whatever you do during normal business (or school) hours.  Others, though, believe that anything that has a secular purpose is "work." So they, for example, have non-Jewish neighbors turn light switches on and off.  Also, some traditional Jewish foods--most notably cholent  (Think of it as a kosher cassoulet.), came about because the very orthodox believe you can't do anything related to food preparation once shabat or the holidays begin.  

(To make cholent, people assembled pans of beans, potatoes, onions, meat, spices and whatever else they liked and, on their way to shul,  either put it in their own ovens or left it with local bakers who had to keep their ovens lit on low heat.  Those pans would be retrieved at the end of shabat.)

So, this rabbi opined, whether or not you can ride your bicycle depends on your (or your sect's) interpretration of the Torah--and why you are riding.  Obviously, commuting would be out of the question. So would running errands, for some.  But he said that cycling "might be OK" if it's "contemplative."

Finding The Cream Of Bike Routes

 Three years ago, a man pedaled into the Lincoln Tunnel, a violation of Port Authority regulations.  So why did he wander into that 2.5 km-long tube under the Hudson?  The route was suggested on a phone app. 

Even if it weren't prohibited, I wouldn't cycle in the Tunnel--unless, perhaps, it were closed to traffic. On a scale from 1 to 4, with 4 being the most stressful, I think the fumes and claustrophobic space would make it a four-plus on a new interactive bike map.

The City of Milwaukee Department of Public Works has just developed such a map for the Cream City. It can be accessed from a computer or mobile device and rates each street from low (1) to high (4) stress, based on factors such as how many people drive on it and whether or not it has a bike lane.  Riders can use the map to plot a route that includes as many low-stress streets as possible.

You can access the map here.

From the Milwaukee Sentinel-Journal

A Masked Slash And Grab

The good news about the COVID-19 epidemic (Did I actually write that?) is that more people are riding bikes.

The bad news is that more bikes are being stolen.  What's worse is that not all of the thieves are taking unattended bikes or breaking locks on parked machines. Perps know they're harder to identify when they're wearing masks, so some have become more brazen about how they part riders from their wheels.

Such was the case a month ago, just a few miles from my apartment.  Sometimes, during rides to or from Fort Totten or Nassau County, I'll stop in Flushing--the Chinatown of Queens--for dumplings or other tasty treats.  A young man who stopped in front of a restaurant near Main Street--may have had the same idea.

Whatever his intention, another young man started to talk to him.  The distraction allowed another young man to approach him from behind--and slash him in the face.

He dropped his phone and bike.  The guy who started the conversation scooped them up and took off.  The slasher ran into a subway station a few doors away.

Everything was captured on video.  I just hope someone can recognize the perps and call the NYPD hotline (1-800-577-8477 for English, 1-800-577-4782 for Spanish).

John, 40 Years Later

Some things really can make you feel old.

I know, it isn't all about me.  At least, what I'm about to relate isn't.  But I write this blog, ostensibly about bicycling, and end up talking about myself.  Then again, what blogger doesn't talk about him/her/themself?

So here goes:  Forty years ago, John Lennon was murdered by someone who claimed --like other actual and would-be murderers and assassins--to have been inspired by Holden Caulfield (who was, not a killer, but a teenage rebel who feels disgust for almost everything in the adult world) of Catcher in the Rye.

Four decades ago? Four decades ago!  At the time, I had lived barely half that amount of time.  On the other hand, John had lived as long (having turned 40 two months earlier) when he was shot.

In an earlier post, I relayed one of his fondest memories:  of getting a bike as a kid. He rode it everywhere and didn't leave it outside at night, as other people  in his neighborhood did.  His wheels accompanied him to bed, he said.

Of course, what is better-known is someone who accompanied him to bed:

Yes, a bicycle accompanied him and Yoko during their first "Bed-In For Peace" in Amsterdam.  I don't know whether they had a bike during their second Bed-In, in Montreal, but it wouldn't surprise me if they did.

Here they are in 1972, stopping for what has long been a quintessential New York experience, but one that is disappearing.  Those iconic Sabrett's hot dog carts are being replaced by Halal food trucks and carts that serve kebabs and chicken or lamb with rice, as well trucks and carts offering other tacos, pizza and other "street foods."

(As best as I can tell, John is riding a Bottechia ten-speed and Yoko is on a Dunelt or Rudge three-speed. At least, I'm sure it's a three-speed but not a Raleigh.)

John, apparently, never gave up his love for cycling, even when he and the Beatles were touring and turning out an album or two every year.  

Tell me:  Does that look like '60's England, or what?

It certainly looks like John, expressing his kind of joy.

For Her Brother

What motivates people to do charitable work?

My guess is that one common (if not the most common) impetus is the memory of a loved one, whether a blood relative, friend or anyone else who matters to the person doing the work.

Such is the case for Kay and Craig Collier.  For the past 27 years, the Brownwood, Texas residents have been collecting bicycles and distributing them for Good Samaritan Ministries and other non-profit charities.  The need is great in their area which, in spite (or some would say because of) Camp Bowie, has lower income and higher poverty rates than average for Texas or the United States.

Kay Collier (left) with Marie Smith of Good Samaritan Ministries (Photo by Derrick Stuckly)

One of the needy could have been Kay's brother, had he not become her brother.  Her parents adopted Sidney Collier Hanks through Catholic Charities when he was six years old.  For his first Christmas with his new family, Kay's mother asked Sidney what he wanted from Santa.  "He said it didn't matter, he never gets what he wants, but he really would like to have bike," Kay recalls.  

He soon came to be known "Sid on the Bike" in the community.  "He wore out a bike, and sometimes my mom would have to get him two a year," she remembers.  He rode "everywhere," she says, continuing even after getting his driver's license at age 18.

So far, that sounds like a typical story.  That is, until you consider a handicap Sid had to overcome:  one leg was 12 inches shorter than the other.  At the time he was adopted, he was living in a group home where the foster mother made booties but not shoes.  "My mother found someone to get him shoes made that were built up and very heavy."  Still, Kay says, "he rode that bike anyway."

Phlebitis developed in Sid's shorter leg.  Finally, he needed hip surgery because the shorter leg was causing so much stretch to the normal one.  He was on the verge of being relegated to a wheelchair when he passed away, at age 28.

At that time, Kay, now a receptionist for Good Samaritan Ministries, and Craig were expecting their first daughter, whom they named Sidney.  She is now 27 years old:  the same age as the couple's bicycle charity.

Are Acorns An Energy Food?

 Are squirrels genetically programmed to play chicken with cyclists?

It sure seems as if they are.  It seems that any time I pedal through a leafy area, one of those fuzzy creatures hops and scampers as close to my wheel as it can without getting tangled in my spokes.  Then it scampers away.

That leads me to wonder:  How would a squirrel ride a bicycle?

The image is available as a T-shirt.  I think it's kinda cute. 

They Walk In Carbon

I have never owned a carbon fiber bicycle--or even a component larger than a brake lever made from the material. I've ridden CF, and can appreciate its ride qualities.  Still, I'm not ready to plunk down my hard-earned money for it.

Some folks, though, simply must have it.  But they not only don't want to spring for it; they don't have the necessary funds (or credit lines).

Well, for such consumers, there's good news:  Specialized--one of the most-recognized names in the carbon fiber bike arena--has just introduced a machine that will sell for $999 in the US (999 GBP in the UK, which, at yesterday's exchange rate, translates to $1342.91).

The news gets even better:  The wheels, as well as the frame and fork, are made from carbon fiber.  So are the handlebars and stem.

 Now to the bad news:  If you were dreaming of a spot in the Tour, Giro or Vuelta, you won't be allowed to ride it on this bike:  It weighs only 2.1 kg (4.6 pounds). The Union Cyclisme International, the sport's international governing body, doesn't allow bikes lighter than 6.8 kg (14.991 pounds) in the races it sanctions.

But your kid might be able to ride it in a Tour, Giro or Vuelta for toddlers.  That is the intended market for this machine.  One reason why it's so light is that it doesn't have cranks, pedals, chain, derailleurs, shifters or brakes.  

It's a balance bike.  Yes, a carbon fiber balance bike, called the Hotwalk.

Here's my question:  Will buying this bike turn your kid into a champion--or an uber-consumer?

Santa Cruz Bicycle Recall

I know I shouldn't make light of a bike recall--especially if the reason for it is a problem that could cause serious injury.

But--whatever this says about me--I had a little laugh when I heard that Santa Cruz Bicycles is recalling some of its aluminum frames.

Why?  According to the company, some of their aluminum frames and rear triangles have a defect that can cause them to bend or buckle.

Now, I don't want anyone to get hurt because a frame or fork buckled under him or her.  And I am glad Santa Cruz bicycles is trying to make things right for their customers.

Still, I thought it was kind of funny that frames shaped like the ones in the recall are being replaced because they might bend.

I mean, someone not familiar with the bikes wouldn't know they were bent, would they?

The bikes and frames in question were sold from June 2019 to October 2020.

Swept By A Tide Of Poor Design

Yesterday’s  story told the tragic end of an award-winning journalist—and cycling enthusiast—on a Florida road.

The story I’m going to relate today didn’t end as badly—the cyclist survived.  But it had this in common with Tim O’Brien’s mishap:  It had a cause in something neither that cyclist, O’Brien (or, for that matter anyone else) could have foreseen.  That cause, however stemmed at least in part from poor planning, design or policy.

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, O’Brien was struck by a car that ricocheted after it was struck by a pickup truck making a left turn on Route A1A:  a two-lane road (for most of its length) where drivers drive at highway speeds and make left turns onto side streets where, as often as not, there are no signals or signs.  Also, on A1A, the sidewalks serve as bike lanes and, too often, shoulders or pull-over lanes for cars.

The cyclist I’m going to mention today was swept off his bike by a tide—while pedaling along a bike lane that skirted the edge of the water.

This near-tragedy struck on the path between Lake Michigan and Chicago’s Lakeshore Drive.  Although Michigan, like the other Great Lakes, is filled with fresh water, it—like Superior, Huron, Erie and Ontario—is really a vast inland sea with its own tides. 

Those tides are affected by the same things that whip up the oceans:  the moon’s gravitational pull, geocentric forces—and the weather, the wind in particular.

I know these phenomena quite well:  I often cycle along the Verrazano Narrows, Long Island Sound, Upper New York Bay (where the Hudson River ends) Jamaica Bay and the misnamed East and Harlem Rivers.  All are inlets or bays of the Atlantic Ocean:  something people living by them learned the hard way during Superstorm Sandy!  I have been reminded of the waters’ provenance a few times when waves spilled onto the paths or streets I was riding.

Now, some might say that my and that Chicago cyclist’s experience were unfortunate accidents that were just part of life in the big city.  There was, however, a flaw in the Chicago path that I’ve noticed on some waterside bike lanes I’ve ridden: It sits several feet lower than the adjacent roadway.  Oh, and there’s no barrier between the lane and the water.

A bike lane sandwiched between a major roadway and a tidal waterway—built several feet lower than the roadway, with no barrier between the lane and tides? If I were just a little more paranoid, I’d think that it wasn’t just bad planning and design: I’d believe it was designed to do away with cyclists!

He Could Not Escape Injustice

In earlier posts, I've mentioned that Florida, in spite of its climate and many communities with bike lanes, is terrible for bicycling in at least one way.  The Sunshine State is beclouded with the distinction of being the deadliest state for cyclists.  For about as long as I've been writing this blog, Florida has had the highest death rate for riders, and it's not even close.

More than a few reasons have been posited.  One is the state's car-centric culture.  Another is that because it's America's leading state for retirees (a.k.a. God's Waiting Room), there are lots of old drivers, some of whom shouldn't be driving anymore.  I think that characterization is only somewhat fair:  While riding in Florida, I've encountered any number of hot-rodding, or simply careless, young drivers.  Again, to be fair, their state doesn't have very stringent requirements for a driver's license.

Whatever the causes, the dangers (and pleasures) encountered by cyclists do not discriminate:  Accidents injure the young and the old, the rich and the poor.

And the famous as well as the anonymous.

The latest cycling fatality in Florida was a familiar face for many people.   He covered a number of major events, including the September 11 terrorist attacks.  For his contributions to CNN's coverage of that event, he won an Emmy. Another highlight of his career, "Escape from Justice," was one of the first exposes of Nazi war criminals living in the USA.

In addition to CNN, he covered the Supreme Court and other legal issues for 22 years at ABC.  An attorney by training, he was able to lend depth, as well as explain proceedings,  in terms comprehensible to folks like me.

Upon his retirement, he moved to northeastern Florida, near Jacksonville.  Like many before him, he relished the chance to spend days following one of his passions:  cycling.

My guess is that Tim O'Brien was a careful cyclist and, for a 77-year-old, his reflexes were still good.  They weren't enough, however, to avoid the fate that befell him.

According to police, a pickup truck traveling northbound on Route A1A turned left to Mickler Road in Ponte Vedra Beach.  The truck collided with a car traveling southbound on A1A.  

The force of the crash sent the car ricocheting to the sidewalk--where O'Brien was pedaling.  

Both drivers remained at the scene.  Police have not said whether either would be charged.  

Whatever their fate, it won't change the fact that someone they might've watched on their television screens is the latest cyclist casualty in Florida.

Faster Than Amazon?

The mayor of my city and the governor of my state raise the possibility of new lockdowns, which would mean "non-essential" businesses would be closed.  Government officials in other places are also speaking of such things.

At the same time, they are encouraging people to support small businesses.  I wholeheartedly agree, whether that "small business" is a bike shop, book store or beauty salon.  

One thing I fear, though, is that this might be the "last chance" for some establishments that barely survived the lockdowns of last spring. Whatever business they do might tide them over for the next couple of weeks, or however long they can operate before they're forced to close.

Another worry is that some customers who resorted to Amazon during the lockdowns won't return to their old shopping habits.  They may have been lulled by the convenience of having PlayStations or whatever brought to their doors.

What some small business owners have done, of course, is to start making deliveries.  Luca Ambrogio Santini is one of them.

He operates LibriSottoCasa, which he describes as "the smallest bookstore in the world."  How small is it?  Oh, about the size of one of those boxes that fits on a porteur-style front rack.

Santini once operated one of the best-known independent bookstores in Milan, Italy.  That is, until rent and management costs rose too high.  So, five years ago, he started to operate without a storefront--and with a delivery bicycle. Customers place orders on his Facebook page, on Whatsapp or via e-mail, and he delivers, mainly in the southern districts of his city.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the pandemic has been good for his business.  While he concedes that Amazon and other forms of e-commerce are convenient, he says "the physical presence of the bookseller who can advise and communicate with the customer" is "an added value" that "is disappearing" but "we must not lose."

In addition to being that bookseller we all love, he has another aspiration:  "I want to be faster than Amazon."

Shut Down Without A Lockdown

 I am feeling somewhat encouraged:  Over the weekend, I managed to take two rides.  I don't know exactly how much I rode, but I guess that I pedaled about 70 kilometers on Saturday and that much, or perhaps a bit less, on Sunday.

Each trek took me through various parts of Brooklyn and Queens.  One thing is that, although I had to navigate traffic in some of the shopping areas, I found some solitude, in expected and unexpected places.

Lockdowns have been imposed in other states and countries.  There has been talk of one here, too:  Schools reverted to remote instruction last week, and if infection rates rise, "non-essential" businesses could close. (Good thing I got my hair done on Monday, even if I'm not going on a date or to any weddings, graduations or other large gatherings!)  If I hadn't known any better, I would have assumed the city had shut down when I saw this:

 

Thirteenth Avenue in Borough Park has long been a busy commercial strip.  My father grew up just off it; as a kid, I can recall trips to stores and bakeries--and pizza runs!--when we visited his parents.  In the decades since, the neighborhood has become one of the world's major Orthodox (Lubavitcher Hasidic) Jewish enclaves.  That, of course, is the reason why everything was closed--and I could ride on Thirteenth Avenue as if it were some country lane.

Well, most stores were closed because of shabat.  Gino's--yes, the destination of our pizza runs--managed to survive the changes in the neighborhood at least until a year or so ago.   Any time I was anywhere the neighborhood, I'd stop by for at least a slice or two--they were still as good as my childhood memories!--though, it seems, they stopped making arancini, one of the world's great comfort foods, some time ago.  

I know time marches on and all that, but I couldn't help but to feel what I saw from the Canarsie Pier on yesterday:

Well, I am healing, at least physically.  I suppose I'll "recover" from losing Gino's, too, even if it was one of the last old-school Brooklyn pizza joints.  

What If You’d Worn It?

 If you are, oh, about my age, you didn't wear a helmet as a kid. Perhaps you still aren't wearing one.

If you wear a helmet now, you might wonder what might have happened had you not worn one:  Perhaps that wheelie or "flip" you did--or that tumble you took--might've ended differently.

But what if you had worn a helmet?

A Bike Part Or A Deadly Weapon?

Which bicycle part could be mistaken for a weapon?

A long quill stem comes to my mind.  Still, it seems like a bit of a stretch of the imagination.  A crank arm, seat post or rear derailleur (if held the right way) also come to my mind.

I admit that many people have more vivid imaginations (and greater minds) than mine.  Still, it seems a bit of a stretch, to me,  to confuse any bicycle component with an implement of destruction.  Perhaps someone from the Los Angeles Police Department--or the Los Angeles Times--could have been more specific.

According to their reports,  a 31-year-old mentally ill man was "holding a bicycle part that resembled a handgun" when an officer fatally shot him in January.

Victor Valencia's family members, naturally, want answers.  They claim that he "posed no threat" and wonder "what gave the reason" for the officer "to shoot down my cousin like he was nothing," in the words of Sara Cervantes.

Indeed.  I'd like to know what Mr. Valencia was wielding that made him seem like such a threat?

A Black Bike On Friday?

If I were to buy a folding or collapsible bike, there are two I would consider:  Brompton and Bike Friday.

 BF is holding a special sale for today, Black Friday.  They boast that they offer "2 colors of black."

I have a question:  If one were to order a bike in either shade, would he/she/they have a black Bike Friday?  Or a Bike Black Friday?

Just askin'.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 Happy Thanksgiving!

An Oracle?

Yesterday, I "outed" all of those cyclists--which includes nearly all, myself included--who've stopped for Dunkin' Donuts or other sweets during a ride.

With that in mind, I'll expose another cyclists' vice. If you haven't eaten it during a ride, you've almost certainly indulged in it apres randonee.  And if you've worked in a bike shop, it's almost certainly been your lunch (or dinner or midnight snack). Why else would Park make its PZT-2?

So, while taking another late-day ride yesterday, I wasn't sure of whether to tremble with fear or to be thankful for good luck (or genes) when I saw this:

America Runs On It. But Should We Ride It?

Come on, admit it:  You've stopped at Dunkin' Donuts during at least one of your rides!

(I'll admit to having stopped for all sorts of "munchies" during rides, including maple donuts at Tim Horton's in Montreal, croissants and pain au chocolat at various French bakeries, kaimaki in Greece and various fruit treats in Laos and Cambodia.  And, yes, for Boston Cream or blueberry donuts, or chocolate-dipped French cruellers, at DD!)

The thing is, Dunkin' Donuts knows we exist.  They may know our preferences in comestibles, but not necessarily in machinery.

I came to that conclusion after seeing a photo of DD's new tandem bicycle.

Yes, you read that right.  Dunkin' Donuts is dropping its usual offering of donut-themed holiday gifts, probably because people almost always purchase them on impulse in Dunkin' shops, where there are fewer customers owing to social distancing mandates.  The new tandem bike is available only as an online purchase.

While some might like a frame adorned with the pink-and-orange logo (I have to admit, it is kinda cute!), one has to wonder about the bike itself.  To paraphrase Molly Hurford at Bicycling , American may run on Dunkin', but nobody should ride a Dunkin' bike.

To me, it looks like a "chopper" without the banana seat.  Furthermore, it's offered in only one size--with a road-style configuration both in the front and rear.  Most one-size-fits-all tandems are step-through at least in the rear, if not in the front as well.

Perhaps worst of all, the rear seat is behind the rear wheel, which makes a good saddle position all but impossible for most riders.  Also, the front ("captain's") cockpit is all but impossibly long for a bike its size, and the rear is so short that all but the tiniest riders would have to sit upright.

Dunkin' Donuts website does not give specifications regarding standover height, let alone geometry or componentry.  I'm guessing that while the folks at DD might want us to "run on Dunkin'" they might not expect anyone to actually ride on their bikes.  If anything, the bike is a collector's item for the most fanatical Dunkin' devotee.  As for me, I'll stick to the Boston Cream and  blueberry donuts, and the chocolate-dipped French cruellers.

 

Pedal Power Loses Its Fleet

 Whatever you believe, or don't believe in, you probably agree that it's not OK to take other people's stuff without their permission.

Taking someone's bike is, therefore, a pretty low deed, as its owner almost always loves and/or depends on it.  For some, it might be the difference between having a relatively healthy childhood and becoming another statistic.

Susan Tuck and Mark Trumper understood as much.  That is what led them to start Pedal Power eight years ago in Minneapolis. Part of the mission in starting Pedal Power, according to Trumper, is to "bring the outdoors to children of color." As the organization's "About" page tells us, Tuck and Trumper were motivated by the "abrupt realization that a whole lotta kids never learn to ride a bike." I agree with their assessment:  "that's a problem--one that's worth tackling." 

As teachers, their motto could hardly be more fitting:  "Learn to bike.  Bike to learn." The thing is, to do either, you need a bike--and to know how to ride it.  So, with the help of small grants and donations, they assembled a fleet for the kids at Pillsbury Elementary School, where Trumper and Tuck teach-- and half of the kids are African-American and more than a quarter are Hispanic and 84 percent receive free or discounted lunches.  And realizing that some of them had never been on a bike, they taught kids how to ride.

Knowing what Trumper's and Tuck's efforts, and the bikes themselves, mean to the kids, it's was especially galling to lose, not just one bike, but all 30 in the fleet, along with pumps, reflective vests and cable locks.  

They were stored in an unmarked trailer on school grounds. Late last Thursday night, someone called the police to report someone trying to break in.  When Trumper drove by the following morning, the trailer and its contents were gone.  

Trumper summed up his, Tuck's and the kids' mood: "We're devastated."  They do, however, hope to ride again. To that end, Pedal Power is accepting donations.

You're Never Too Old For...

I will never change the name of this blog...

even if someone sends me this card: 

 

For $10,000 And A Bike

What would it take to get you to move to Arkansas?

With all due respect to natives of "The Natural State," I have to admit that question has never crossed my mind. I've heard that the state has lots of natural beauty, so I might want to take a bike trip there.  But I haven't ever thought of residing there.

Could I change my mind?  The folks at Northwest Arkansas Council seems to think so.  Or, at least they think they can entice city slickers like me.

To that end, as part of their Life Works Here Initiative, the Council is offering $10,000 and a free bicycle in the hopes of luring new residents to their part of the world. If you don't want the bike, you can take a membership to the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art or some other cultural institution in the area.

 Because many are working from home--and, for some, that home can be anywhere, they "are re-evaluating their priorities and their lifestyle," says Council president and CEO Nelson Peacock. "They are reconsidering where they are living and what they are prioritizing.

Here's another incentive:  the area has 162 miles of paved paths and 322 miles of mountain biking trails. You can choose whether you want a "street" or mountain bike for your premium.

If you're ready to say "goodbye, city life," you can fill out an application on the Initiative's website. 

A Ride Of Remembrance

If you can stand it...

I'm going to subject you to some more images of a late-day ride in the city.

As I rode, I reflected on the significance of this day.  For one, it's Transgender Day of Remembrance.  For another, on this date 75 years ago, the Nuremberg Trials began.

You can understand why TDoR is personal for me.  The day was first observed in 1999, one year after transgender woman Rita Hester was murdered in her Allston, Massachusetts apartment.  Her death came just a few weeks after a more-publicized case:  the killing of Matthew Shepard. 

The Nuremberg Trials are also, in their own way, personal for me.  I am not Jewish (at least, I wasn't raised as one:  a DNA test said that I have a small amount of Jewish heritage), but the Holocuaust is probably the largest mass hate crime event, with the possible exception of the Third Passage, in world history.  

(That same DNA test said I'm 4 percent African.  No surprise there:  That the human race began on that continent is Anthropology 101.)

Anyway, today's ride, like so many others, was a time to reflect.  

R.I.P. Eddie B.

He has been beatified as "Father of American Cycling."  He's also been villified as the one who brought "Old World methods," if you know what I mean, to this side of the pond.

Edward Borysewicz passed away on Monday from COVID-19.  Known as "Eddie B" to his proteges and detractors alike, he is best known for training and developing the first generation of American cyclists since World War I who challenged, and sometimes defeated, their European counterparts. 

Born in Poland, he was a finalist for the Peace Race (often called "The Tour de France of the East") before a misdiagnosis of tuberculosis led to a treatment he didn't need--which, in turn, led to liver damage that ended his career. "I went in feeling like a rooster and came out feeling like a pigeon," he recalled.  (It's been speculated that this "misdiagnosis" was retaliation for his father's outspoken anti-communism.)  He continued to race, if not at the same level, and later turned to coaching.

In 1976, he accompanied the Polish team to the Montreal Olympics where Mieczyslaw Nowicki, one of the riders he coached, won two medals.  From there, he took a vacation in the US, where by chance, he met Mike Fraysse.   

It just happened that Mike Fraysse was the team manager for the US cycling squad.  He also owned Park Cycle in Ridgefield Park, New Jersey.  In addition to being one of the premier pro shops, and employing the likes of Francisco Cuevas and Pepi Limongi to build custom frames, Park Cycle served as a training facility for some budding talent.

He spoke no Polish. Eddie B spoke no English.  So, on a ride, they talked about training and other things in French.  It was there that both Fraysse and Eddie B saw an opportunity.

It just happened that the riders passing through Park Cycle included, or would come to include, Alexi Grewal, Andy Hampsten, Connie Carpenter, Davis Phinney, Beth and Eric Heiden, Betsy Davis and Rebecca Twigg.  None of them would go to Moscow for the 1980 Olympics, as then-President Jimmy Carter imposed a boycott.  However, when the Games came to L.A. in 1984--and the Soviet Bloc countries, in retaliation, boycotted--the stage was set for victories American cyclists hadn't experienced since at least their grandparents' youth.

Eddie Borysewicz with Greg LeMond, 2006.  (Photo by Mitchel Clinton)

The US team brought home glitter the Trumps would envy.  Alexi Grewal won gold in the men's road race. Connie Carpenter took the same in the women's road race, with Rebecca Twigg winning the silver medal. Steve Hegg won gold in the individual pursuit while Mark Gorski and Nelson Vails (a former NYC messenger) finished 1-2 in the men's sprint.  Hegg, David Grylls, Patrick McDonough, Leonard Nitz and Brent Emery would combine for a silver medal in the team pursuit.  Nitz would also take bronze in the individual pursuit, which Ron Kiefel, Roy Knickman, Davis Phinney and Andy Weaver also won for the team time trial.

Before these victories, no American had won an Olympic medal in cycling since in 1912.  Two years later, another Eddie B-coached rider achieved something that was thought impossible for an American rider.  I am talking, of course, about Greg LeMond's first Tour de France win.

Rumors--some later substantiated--of doping and other risky practices have long beclouded the Tour and other major races.  LeMond, throughout his career, denounced these practices because of the risks they posed, and denied having "juiced" himself.  Although Lance Armstrong and others have attacked him, there has been no credible evidence of LeMond doping or otherwise cheating.

On the other hand, controversy would later descend upon the Olympic medalists when it emerged that some of them had received blood transfusions.  While not illegal at the time, the US Cycling Federation banned it in January 1985.  The transfusions were organized by Ed Burke, the Federation's athletic director, and Borysewicz claimed that they took place without his knowledge or approval.  Nonetheless, he and Burke were fined.

Eddie B would continue to coach elite cyclists to victory, including Lance Armstrong.  But he always proudest of LeMond, whom he called "a diamond."  He also took pride in discovering riders like Twigg.  

His biggest contributions to American cycling, however, may have been in changing the ways Americans approached cycling.  First of all, he used his academic training to create more scientific methods of training and nutrition for his riders.  Second, and perhaps more important, he helped to re-orient the mentality of American riders, and of the American public, toward cycling.  

He didn't want John Howard, arguably the top male American cyclist of the 1970s, on his team because he had a "Texan" mentality: He was, Eddie believed, focused on his individual success.  Americans of his generation, according to Borysewicz, did not share the European concept of cycling for and with a team.  For all of their individual successes, he trained his cyclists to ride as a team, even if they were in individual pursuits like the sprint.

All of that, I believe, ended American cycling's inferiority complex.  After the victories I mentioned, other American cyclists--and the American public--believed they could ride with the best in the world.  That, perhaps, is Eddie Borysewicz's greatest legacy.