As The Sun Sets On 2014

I guess I could say that I ended this year in a way that reflects the kind of year it's been:  rather lovely, but unexceptional.  

Early this afternoon, I boarded Tosca for a ride through familiar places to a familiar destination. Even the detours were familiar:  through backstreets lined with cute little brick houses and restaurants of various nationalities, by the tidal marshes by Jamaica Bay and up and down stretches of reconstructed, but still not reconnected, boardwalks in Rockaway Beach and Jacob Riis Park.  

Those detours, and the headwind into which I pedaled through much of my ride made it longer, timewise, than it would normally be.  Even though I did not consciously choose them, I believe that some internal guide steered me through them.  (If Thoreau were alive today, would he say write that if a person does not keep pace with his or her companions, perhaps it is because he or she is guided by a different GPS?)  And where might that internal navigator been leading me?

Where else?:  Coney Island, just as the sun was beginning to set.  Somehow it seemed just right for my last ride of 2014.

Thank you all for following me on my journeys through this blog. as wild or mundane as they may be.  I hope you will join me for more in 2015!

What Do Cyclists Want?

What do women want?

You weren't expecting to read that on this blog, were you? 

OK, so what do men want?

Although I am one of the few people who can plausibly answer both questions (!), this blog is not the place to do it.  After all, this  is a family blog. (ha, ha)  For that matter, I'm not so sure I could--or would want to--answer either or both on my other blog.  

So I'll stick to a sort-of related question:  What do cyclists want?

Please, please leave your answers to that in my comments section.  I don't want to prejudice you one way or another, but I think the San Luis Obispo County Bicycle Coalition came up with a very credible and useful answer.  Two years ago, 30 percent of SLOBC members said they wanted more bicycle education.  That was, by far, the most common response.

 

I will not argue against that.  SLOBC idenitified some obvious venues for bicycle safety education, including schools.  They also seem to have some innovative ideas about accomplishing their goal, such as making bicycle safety education a family endeavor.  That makes sense when you realize that the county--perhaps best known for its wines (Among California counties, only Sonoma and Napa produce more.) and San Simeon, the home of Hearst Castle--is mainly rural and suburban.  In fact, one of the stated goals of the Coalition's bicycle education is to help give more moms the confidence to ride with their kids in the park.

The other policies and ideas mentioned are all laudable and practical.  But I think that it leaves out one element that, to be fair, almost no one else (at least in the US) addresses:  educating motorists and other members of the public about cycling and cyclists.  As I have argued in other posts on this blog, the understanding drivers have of cyclists is what makes cycling in much of Europe safer than it is here.  Also, one doesn't find, on right side of the Atlantic, the sort of antagonism between cyclists and motorists that scares many Americans off cycling to work and leads to the angry diatribes against cyclists one often hears and reads in American media.

If anyone from SLOBC is reading this, I don't want to seem overly critical.  It seems like you are doing a lot to make your communities more bike-friendly.  And, I want to add that I haven't been there in a long time, but I recall much of SLO county as being quite lovely and having some of the best cycling in America.

 

The World's Fastest Bicycle

At this time of year, it's hard not to think about children, whether or not we have any of our own.  After all, we were all kids once, and most of us have memories--for better or worse, or both--of this time of year.

For some of us, those memories might involve a bicycle, specifically finding one under the tree.  "The Retrogrouch" wrote a nice post about that last week.  I responded with a comment about the time I got a Royce-Union three-speed bike when I was seven years old.  The bike was much too big for me; I wouldn't be able to ride it for another couple of years.  That bike also holds a special memory because it was the last gift my grandfather gave me.  In fact, that Christmas was the last day I spent time with him:  He died the following March.

But whatever the circumstances, I think any bicycle found under a tree on Christmas morning always holds a special place in a kid's heart, even long after he or she is no longer a kid.  Even if it's made from gaspipes, nothing can be prettier or shinier or faster than that bike left by "Santa"; if we can't ride our new steeds that day, nothing seems more worth the wait, whether for snow to melt or, in my case, to grow into the bike.



I think children's author Ken Nesbitt captured that feeling nicely in his poem, "The World's Fastest Bicycle."

My bicycle's the fastest
that the world has ever seen;
it has supersonic engines
and a flame-retardant sheen.

My bicycle will travel
a gazillion miles an hour --
it has rockets on the handlebars
for supplemental power.

The pedals both are jet-propelled
to help you pedal faster,
and the shifter is equipped
with an electric turbo-blaster.

The fender has a parachute
in case you need to brake.
Yes, my bike is undeniably
the fastest one they make.

My bicycle's incredible!
I love the way it feels,
and I'll like it even more
when Dad removes the training wheels.

(From The Aliens Have Landed At Our School. a book of children's poems by Ken Nesbitt)