Many, if not most, of us own at least one coffee-table book about bicycles or bicycling. We even open them now and again; perhaps our non-cycling friends peek into them out of curiosity.
But I'll bet none of you has a proper coffee table for such a book. (OK, I don't, either!):
Today I'm going to talk about one of those topics about which none of us wants to think: accidents.
Specifically, I'm thinking about motorists hitting or, worse, running down cyclists.
One reason it's on my mind is that last night, I had one of the closest calls I've had in a while.
I had just traversed the Pulaski Bridge from McGuiness Boulevard in Greeenpoint, Brooklyn to Jackson Avenue in Long Island City, Queens--a crossing I've made hundreds of times. On Jackson, I turned left and followed it to 50th Avenue. Then I turned right on Vernon Boulevard, which skirts the East River and takes me within a few blocks of my apartment.
Daylight, such as it was, fell into night. Showers were turning into a downpour. Even that, in itself, is not so unusual, especially at this time of year. I exercised my usual caution: I rode a little bit slower and gave myself extra time and distance to brake. I expected nothing more inconvenient than wet clothes (I was riding Vera, which has full fenders and a flap, but I had not brought any rain gear.) on the rest of my trip home.
But as I approached the "Y" shaped intersection of Vernon with 45th Avenue and 10th Street, a car shot out from behind me and seemed to miss my front wheel by inches. A quick turn of my handlebars saved me.
The intersection was well-lit, so my "blinky" lights and reflective vest should have been sufficient for the driver to see me. There was no light or "stop" sign in the intersection, and I proceeded as far to the right as I could without making a turn.
However, that driver had to be going at least twice the speed limit for that street. And, given that it was early on Saturday night, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that his blood-alcohol level was over the legal limit.
In thinking about the incident, I realize that in every one of my close encounters with automobiles in which road conditions or inadequate signals or signage weren't the cause, the driver was speeding. And, I would suspect that there was a better-than-even chance that the driver was drinking.
Then, just a little while ago, in doing some research (i.e., surfing the web), I came across this account of a 70-year-old cyclist in India who was mowed down by a speeding mini-bus. As it turns out, the driver has a record of speeding and recklessness.
That got me to wondering whether speeding is the main cause of accidents between cars and bikes in which the motorist is at fault.
Look at the picture, but don't look at the little box in the lower left hand corner. (Yeah, right!) This photo is the cover of a magazine. What kind of magazine? (Remember, you're not supposed to look at the box! ;-))
The same magazine featured this on the cover of another issue:
Lest you think they were concerned only with the French countryside, at least as a cyclist might experience it, take a look at this cover.
OK, so it's from 1970. I think even Kirkus Reviews had a psychedelic edition around then. Paul de Vivie might not have approved, but they can be forgiven.
Some of you may know that Le Cycliste, which was published from 1887 until 1973, was founded by someone who wrote under the name of "Velocio." What you may not have known is that he was none other than Paul de Vivie, also known as "the patron saint of cycling."
If he isn't so recognized by Rome or anyone else, he should be known as the progenitor of a genre of cycling and the godfather, as it were, of a development in bicycle technology that most of us take for granted but wasn't allowed in the Tour de France during his lifetime.
That piece of machinery is, of course, the derailleur. Whether or not he invented it, or even came up with the idea for it, is disputed. What is generally beyond doubt is that he did more to make it a part of nearly all high-mileage (and some not-so-high mileage) cyclists' steeds.
If there is any other person who did as much to popularize the derailleur--as well as other pieces of equipment that are included in every cyclotourist's (and racer's) kit--it's someone whose drawings regularly graced the magazine's pages.
You guessed: Daniel Rebour.
Now to the kind of riding Velocio inspired, through his writing as well as his own riding: It's what you all know as randonneuring. And, of course, there are variations on it, such as the Audax and Gran Fondo.
Now, of course, when he was doing those 800-kilometer rides in five days through the mountains, Velocio did not have to stop at any check points or get a booklet stamped. However, in every other way, his rides are prototypes of randonnees and audax rides: They were not races, but he always attempted (and usually succeeded) in covering a certain number of kilometers, to a particular destination and back, with as few and infrequent rest stops as possible.
He was not, as some of his critics charged, "hypnotized by speed"or "intoxicated by distance". Rather, he was enamored of the ways in which such long hours of riding opened his senses to details no one could notice from a car or train (or plane). A passage Dr. Clifford Graves quotes in an early issue of Bicycling! magazine is evidence of that.
Velocio/de Vivie (With a name like that, why did he need a nom de plume?) died in 1930. The magazine continued for more than four decades after. I haven't been able to find out why it ceased publication. Perhaps the reason is that the number of serious randonneurs and cyclotourists declined in France, as it did in the rest of Europe, after the devastation of World War II was replaced, rebuilt or simply abandoned. About a decade or so after the war, relatively large numbers of people could afford automobiles and drive them on the newly-created autoroutes.
Now, with a resurgent bicycle touring community in the Old World as well as in America, Le Cycliste would probably do well--especially given that cyclists tend to appreciate tasteful, crafted work as well as nature. Le Cycliste combined them beautifully. Thankfully, a current cycle publication seems to be doing something very similar: Jan Heine's Bicycle Quarterly.
