Caterina, Charlie (I), Candice, Charlie (II), Max and Marlee.
I have loved them all. I miss Caterina, both Charlies and Candice. At least I have Max and Marlee.
They all did, and gave, everything I ever could have wanted from the likes of them. Well, all except one thing.
I never could get any of them to do this:
For that matter, I've never been able to persuade any cat to ride with me.
A few years ago, on New Years' morning, I stopped for a cat I saw and who looked almost pleadingly at me. As soon as I got off my bike, he darted to my ankles and rubbed himself against me. I picked him up. For a moment, he curled on my shoulder and I tried getting on my bike, figuring I could start off the new year by rescuing a feline friend. But he was having none of it: As soon as I lifted my leg over the bike, he dropped himself off my chest and landed on his feet.
I tried a similar rescue about a year ago, on another cat who greeted me. It ended much like the first one I tried: When I got on the bike, the cat decided to go airborne.
Perhaps those felines--and my own--saw this sign:
Well, now I know what they're doing while I'm riding! Hmm...Maybe that's the reason they won't ride with me.
Even though it's something I haven't done often, I've done it too frequently.
I am talking about writing posts like this one—in which I describe an encounter between a bicycle and a motor vehicle results in a dead cyclist. Or dead cyclists, plural.
In too many such incidents, the driver was intoxicated. Or, worse, the driver simply took off after running down a bike rider.
From what I've read so far, the tragedy I'm about to relate doesn't fit into either of those categories. It seems that the driver in question simply didn't see the cyclist: a plausible scenario, especially given a few factors I'll mention in this post.
Abigail Dougherty, a University of Florida student just a couple of weeks from turning 21, was riding southbound on NW 17th Street in Gainesville and was starting to cross University Avenue.
A garbage truck was rumbling along the same street, in the same direction at the same moment. It, however turned right to go west on University.
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| Abigail Dougherty |
A local news report said she "collided" with the garbage truck. It's difficult to imagine how she could have done such a thing--unless she rode into the intersection as the truck was in the process of turning.
The more likely scenario, it seems, is that she was partway into the intersection when the driver started to round the corner for the turn. If things transpired that way, it's not difficult to imagine how the driver might have lost sight of her, or never saw her in the first place, especially since garbage truck drivers don't have the best sight lines.
Having cycled for decades in New York, I have had tailed, dodged and weaved around all manner of vehicles, including garbage trucks. Probably the only vehicles with worse sight lines are long-haul trucks. The best chance I have with garbage trucks or long-haul drivers, it seems, is to get them to see me.
Of course, I do not know how Abigail Dougherty fell victim to a turning garbage truck. An investigation is ongoing, as of now; officials aren't even sure of who had the right-of-way. According to a local attorney, motorists are expected to yield to cyclists and pedestrians before making a turn. If footage of the incident can be found, I would think the question of right-of-way would be fairly easy to solve.
Whatever the answer, we--cyclists and motorists, as well as pedestrians--need to be more cognizant of each other, and how each of us has different needs, but the same responsibilities, on the road.
Now that Ms. Dougherty's death has sparked a conversation about cyclists and drivers on the road, I hope it won't lead to misguided attempts--like bike lanes that, too often, are more dangerous than the streets--to make cycling "safer".
Whatever comes of this tragedy, I hope it helps to prevent more like it. After all, who wants to hear about another cyclist (or anyone else, for that matter) cut down in the bloom of youth?
I grew up thinking today was All Saints' Day.
Later, I learned that it was also called All Souls' Day.
Either way, it was the reason Halloween (All Hallows' E'en) existed.
Then I learned that those two days, and the one that follows are celebrated as Dia de Muertos in Mexico, and now in Mexican communities here in the US.
Actually, only the southern part of Mexico, where Aztec and other indigenous cultures were still strong, celebrated it until the middle of the 20th Century. Until then, the north--which was almost entirely Roman Catholic and mainly of European ancestry--commemorated All Saints' Day in a fashion similar to the rest of the Catholic world. What that meant, mainly, was going to Mass and, for some families, a commemorative meal or other event for their dear departed.
I must say, though, that for a time in my life, it didn't seem to have anything to do with death--unless, perhaps, the weather was particularly gloomy. Catholic schools, including the one I attended, were closed that day. We were expected to go to church, but other than that, we were free. At least, I was, because my family didn't do anything special for the day.
I can remember going for bike rides on the first of November, both as a child and as an adult. According to the calendar, this day is the first day of the year's penultimate month. Some years, the weather told us that the cycling season was winding down, or even on its last legs.
Whatever the day was like, the sensual feast of October would soon be over and the more austere beauty of November would lead to rides that shortened with the amount of daylight available but grew in intensity, sometimes physically but more often emotionally.
Today I rode to work and I might get to sneak out for a "quickie" before riding home. Whatever I do, I am sure to think about not only my rides past, but also the people who rode (some of) them with me--and the person I was on those rides. And, of course, about the rides ahead.
Yes, on the Day of the Dead.
About the Images: The first is the box from a special edition "Day of the Dead" Bicycle playing card set. The second, third and fourth are by Heather Calderon and are titled "Hollywood Bicycle Woman," "Hollywood Bicycle Man" and "El Panadero", respectively.
