I have ridden on two velodromes in my life: Kissena and "T-town". The first time I rode Kissena, which is just a few kilometers from where I live, it more closely resembled some trails I rode in Vermont than any other track. Another rider, who was a bit of a tinkerer, quipped that it was inspiring him to design the world's first dual-suspension track bike. The Lehigh Valley Velodrome--commonly called "Trexlertown" or "T-town", today known as the Valley Preferred Cycling Center--was like a mirror by comparison.
Riding on both tracks gave me butterflies in my stomach, along with an adrenaline rush. I don't know how fast I rode (Somehow, I don't think Chris Boardman or Francois Pervis had anything to fear!) but I know I was riding faster than I ever did on a road or trail--without even trying! and at angles I couldn't even imagine myself reclining or sitting! It was probably as close as I ever came to defying gravity.
One thing you have to remember when you're on a velodrome--or any time you ride a fixed-gear bike: Keep pedaling! If you stop, you'll fall off--and, if others are riding on the 'drome, into their path.
I have never ridden a high-wheeler ("penny farthing"). But I imagine that the same principle holds true: After all, if the wheel is moving, so are the pedals. I also imagine that if you suddenly stop pedaling, the resulting fall could be even nastier than the tumble from a modern track bike.
Perhaps one day I will ride a high-wheeler. But I simply cannot imagine riding it on the track. I wonder how these guys did it:
During one of my many rides to Point Lookout, I was riding between a traffic jam and the shoulder of Lido Boulevard, just west of the Meadowbrook Parkway entrance. As I recall, it was a weekday, so I wondered why there so many cars along the Boulevard headed away from Point Lookout.
I soon had my answer. Just past the high school, a truck crashed--apparently, from swerving. The light turned red; I stopped.
"Ma'am. Get over here!" I didn't think the burly man in a suit was yelling to me--until he scuttled in front of me.
"I'm talking to you! When I say come, come!"
"Why? You're not my father!"
"Don't get cute with me!"
"As if I could..."
"Listen, I don't wanna arrest you..."
"For what..."
"Never mind. See that truck over there."
I nodded.
"Well, there's a guy on a bike under it, with his skull crushed. Doesn't look like he's gonna make it."
"Oh, dear..."
"Listen, that coulda been you!"
"Well, I'm careful."
"Well, you were riding carelessly."
"How so?"
"You were riding between cars..."
I wasn't, but I didn't argue. Then he lectured me about bicycle safety, pointing out that he was a "bicycle safety officer" for the local police department. I had the impression that everything he knew about bicycle safety, he learned from one of those movies they used to show kids back in the days of "air raid drills".
"That's against the lore (translation: law), ya' no'."
Then he ordered me to take off my sunglasses. "Doesn't look like yer under the influence." Squinting, I slid them back onto my face.
"Where do ya live?" he demanded.
"Astoria."
"You rode all the way from Queens?" Again, I nodded.
"Well, at least you're wearing a helmet. The guy under the truck wasn't."
Silence. Then, "Listen, be careful. I really don't want you getting hurt. And remember...don't ride between cars. If I see you doin' that again, I'll hafta write you up."
Later, I looked up the traffic and bicycle codes for the town where I encountered that officer. I couldn't find any prohibition against riding between cars. Nor could I find any such regulation in county codes or New York State law. An attorney I contacted called that officer's assertion "nonsense".
Now, the officer I encountered that day may have been upset after dealing with a cyclist who got his head crushed under a truck. Or he may have been having a bad day for some other reason, or had some sort of unspecified rage--or a more specific animus against cyclists, or me as an "uppity" (at least, in the eyes of someone like him) female.
Or he may have just been suffering from what I call "Phantom Law Syndrome".
To be fair, police officers aren't the only ones prone to PLS. Lots of people think there are, or aren't, laws against one thing or another in their jurisdiction. So, they might break a law without realizing it, or keep themselves from doing something because they believe, incorrectly, that there's a law against it. Or they might accuse someone of breaking a law that doesn't exist.
Also--again, to be fair--laws change. Sometimes they're struck down, aren't renewed or replaced with other laws. Or they're passed with little or no fanfare. So, it's not inconceivable that some officer or detective wouldn't be aware of such changes.
I was reminded of those things, and the encounter I've described, when I came across the sad saga of Edward Adkins.
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| Edward Adkins |
Nearly two years ago, a police officer saw the Dallas native riding his bicycle, sans helmet, in his hometown. Apparently, the constable didn't realized that the city's ordinance mandating helmets had been struck down, at least for adults, a few months earlier. Adkins, 46 years old, lives off odd jobs and didn't have $10 to pay the fine.
Now there is a warrant for his arrest, which he can pay off--for $259.30.
Now, I am not a lawyer, and I certainly am not familiar with the police or courts in Dallas. Still, I can't help but to think that there must be a way to lift the warrant--and to void the ticket because it shouldn't have been issued in the first place.
Even if he has such recourse, though, I imagine it would be very difficult for Adkins to pursue. After all, doing so would take time and money that he, apparently, doesn't have.
It also doesn't help Adkins that, in addition to being poor, he is black and lives in a neighborhood comprised mainly of people like him. Living under such circumstances leaves you even more vulnerable to police officers and other authorities with PLS. For that matter, laws that actually do exist for such things as wearing helmets and against such things as riding on the sidewalk are more often, and more strictly, enforced in poor minority neighborhoods than in other areas. I have witnessed it myself: Not long ago, while riding through the East New York section of Brooklyn, I saw three officers grab one young black man who rode his bike on the sidewalk while a young white couple pedaled through a red light.
Now that I think back to that encounter with the "bicycle safety officer" on Lido Boulevard, I can't help but to wonder how it might've turned out if I'd been darker and poorer (or, at least, riding a bike that wasn't as nice as the one I was riding)--or if I hadn't been wearing a helmet, whether or not one was mandated.
Sometimes I wonder whether my subconscious is steering me into wrong turns.
Freud, of course, would argue that it doesn't. If you'd planned on going one way but finding yourself going another, deep down, you really wanted it.
Maybe he was right, although I still don't understand why I woke up next to at least a couple of the people I've woken up next to.
OK, this is a bike blog. And my rambling ultimately has to do with the ride I took today--and one I took last week.
I rode to Connecticut again today. I took a route that, for much of the way, follows the East Coast Greenway--I've been finding more and more of it--and takes me up a few climbs and along a ridge I discovered by making other "wrong turns".
On the way back, though, I managed to--among other things--ride in a circle of about 15km, unintentionally. I didn't mind: It took me by a couple of rocky streams of the kind you expect to see in New England postcards. Near those streams were some real, live, old-time farm houses and barns. I guess I should not have been surprised: I was in horse country.
I have ridden horses only a couple of times in my life. Given the chance, I would ride one again. In the meantime, I am happy to see them. They give me hope for the human race. Why? Well, only a century ago--even less in some places--they were beasts of burden. In addition to carrying humans on their backs, horses pulled various kinds of farm implements as well as carts on rough roads and barges that plied canals. Today, they do almost none of those things. But some people--some of whom don't ride--have seen fit to keep them, whether or not they serve any useful purpose.
They are beautiful, intelligent creatures who generally treat people well, whether or not people are doing the same for them. Humans can do well to learn from them.
The bicycle, of course, was one of the first things to take away some of the work horses once did. People could go faster and further on two wheels. Plus, even in postage-stamp-sized New York apartments, it's easier to store a bike--and cheaper to feed one--than a horse.
Perhaps we should thank horses for doing their work as well, and for as long, as they did--and for continuing to do it on demand.
Anyway, that loop through the horse farms and other bucolic scenes consisted of a couple of winding roads, one of which is called Round Mountain Road. That name should have told me something!
I guess I subconsciously took those "wrong turns" because I really, deep down, wanted to see something besides downtown Greenwich and Stamford, or even the coast of Long Island Sound.
Of course, when I am on vacation, I am always taking wrong turns. As an example, on a day in Paris, I might decide I want to visit a particular museum or to take a ride to some particular site. But I almost invariably end up following some street or alley or canal or another I hadn't planned on seeing. Likewise, when I was in the provinces of France or Italy, I might decide that the destination of my day's ride would be some town or site. But of course, I almost never took the "straight-arrow" route.
So why does my subconscious steer me along routes the GPS would never dream of? Well, I guess I am, if nothing else, inquisitive. I want to see more and know more. If I am going to spend time in a place, I want to become as familiar with it as I can. My wanderings make me feel as if I've had a more intimate experience of the place. For example, I have been to the Picasso Museum several times and can get to it pretty easily. However, my experience of it seems more complete when I ride through the surrounding area--Le Marais--and, perhaps, find a street or alley I'd never before seen, or hadn't seen in a long time.
Believe it or not, even in the cities and towns and rural areas I know relatively well, it's still not difficult to find and interesting, and even new experience--simply by making a "wrong" turn.
Note: I didn't take any photos today. Sorry! I guess I just got so immersed in my ride that I didn't think of taking pictures.
