A Nomad And A UFO

Whenever I am in Florida, as I was a few days ago, I see lots of recreational vehicles as well as "campers".  In fact, when I ride along A1A, I pass by at least one RV or camper park.

Although trailers towed behind cars or carried on the backs of trucks are referred to as "campers", and people who use them--or even RVs--say they are "camping", I have a difficult time equating them with the camping I have done.  
There were days when I pedaled until I got lost, or couldn't pedal or see--or just didn't want to ride--anymore and simply unfurled my sleeping bag in a field or stretch of woods, or under a bridge.  There were also times when I pitched a tent or simply strung a piece of canvas or plastic between trees or other immobile objects and slept under it.  Perhaps having had such experiences makes it difficult for me to think that a person watching a wide-screen TV, even if he or she is in the open air, is "camping". 

Still, I can understand why people travel with "campers" or RV's:  They want to travel whenever they want, wherever they want, with as many of the conveniences of home as they can take with them.  That is also one of the reasons why they don't, and probably wouldn't, tour or camp by bicycle:  Even if you have front and rear panniers, a handlebar bag and a seat pack, you can't carry many of the comforts of even the most basic homes.

Perhaps a UFO could get them to travel by bicycle:

UFO stands for Urban Freedom Outlander, and this trailer is the Mark II model.  If there were camper trailers in ET, they might look something like that!

If the space-alien look isn't your thing, perhaps you might consider this:


Would sleeping in either of those trailers fit your definition of "camping"?  Even if it doesn't, at least pedaling either of them constitutes a bona fide outdoor activity--and, I would imagine, a workout!

Why I Didn't Ride Today

Thick gray clouds blanketed the sky.  Still, today was mild for this time of year, with the temperature rising to 45F (8C).  Even after a week of sunshine and temperatures in the 70s, as I experienced in Florida, I would have gone riding on a day like today.

But I didn't.  Why?  

Well, believe it or not, there was something I felt I simply had to do.  If you followed the news today, you probably know what I'm about to tell you:  I marched in Manhattan.

To tell you the truth, I spent more time standing than marching.  A few hundred thousand other people can say the same:  At times, we were literally standing shoulder-to-shoulder.  

I should have known how crowded the streets would be when I rode across the 59th Street/Queensborough Bridge and, as soon as I descended the ramp on the Manhattan side, I could ride no further.   

Even though there seemed to be no room even for another flyer or sign on the Manhattan side, I found a signpost on which I was able to lock my LeTour.  I returned, hours later, to unlock and ride it back over the bridge.  

Some might say that I wasted my time, that such a march "won't change anything".  Of course, it won't nullify the result of the elections.  But it did bring together people who feel the same way: that the result of this election does not represent them, does not represent us.

Why was it important for us to come together?  We--most of us, anyway, I suspect--are angry about that the Orange Man was inaugurated yesterday.  We were not, however, acting upon our rage: doing so would have brought us down to the level of his campaign and the hatred it manifested.  I realized as much when I saw how respectful, even nice, marchers were toward each other.  Each of us, I think, was happy that the other marchers were there, whatever their reasons or motivations.  Many of us are "outsiders" or "minorities" of one kind or another; just about everyone else, I suspect, loves or is loved by someone who fits those descriptions.  Because we were there, together, we were not alienated, and the message behind our signs and shouts is that we will not allow ourselves to be alienated by the powers that are seizing control.

Tomorrow, I hear, will be like today, weather-wise--at least until mid-afternoon.  Perhaps I will ride.  But I will not regret that today I could ride over the bridge a mile from my apartment, and no further.  There is still further to go.  I can still go further.

What Now? What Next?

Like many of you, dear readers, I have dreaded this day for the past two months.  Longer than that, actually:  Unlike those of my friends and acquaintances whose world  view was best depicted by a famous New Yorker  cover`, I didn't believe Trump's victory "couldn't" or "will never" happen.

The world view of those said it "never could" or "never would" happen.

Some pundits are counseling us to "wait and see".  I wonder whether they actually believe that "it might not be so bad" or they are simply in that kind of denial into which people often descend after accidents, disasters, abuse or other kinds of life-changing truamae.  

It may well be true that the Trump presidency (assuming, of course, he makes it through his term) might be very different from what some of us might expect.  After all, he holds--or, at least, has expressed--all sorts of contradictory views, and has been known to change them "in a New York minute" or less.

For example, probably no President-elect since Reagan has expressed more disdain for environmental issues--and has been more of a cheerleader for fossil fuel exploitation--than The Orange-ator.  (Whatever else you want to say about him, Nixon was more of an environmentalist than any of his successors besides Jimmy Carter.    Yes, Obama called attention to climate change and got China to sign onto the Paris accords, but he also pursued policies that exacerbated the environmental effects of domestic energy development and, to a large degree, exported our dirty energy sources.) Given that most cyclists--or, at least, the ones I know--tend to be more environmentally conscious than the average American, one would expect them (us) to be horrified at the prospect of a The Donald in the White House.  

Moreover, he has expressed disdain for adult cyclists, especially after John Kerry crashed.  He once sniffed that he hasn't ridden a bicycle since he was a kid.  After all, real men drive Rolls Royces, right?  Actually, no:  They hire other people to drive them.

But here's where things get interesting.  You see, Trumplethinskin once sponsored a bicycle race.  Not any old bike race, mind you:  the largest one ever held in this country, at least since the days of the six-day races.  The Tour de Trump ran for two editions before he withdrew his sponsorship (citing financial difficulties) and Du Pont took over both the financial obligation and the right to name it after themselves.





Some cursory research (i.e., a glance through Google) confirmed what I'd suspected:  since the Tour deTrump/Tour Du Pont ran for the last time, in 1996, there hasn't been another stage race of quite the same stature in the USA. Raul Alcala, who won the second and fifth editions, placed as high as eighth in the Tour de France and seventh in the Vuelta a Espana.  The fourth edition of Trump/DuPont was won by a former Tour winner: Greg Lemond.  And he who is unmentionable (at least in the cycling world) won the final two editions of Trump/DuPont.  In its heyday, the race was even envisioned, by some, as part of a "Grand Slam" that would include the three major European tours and some race or races in Asia.  

It's interesting, to say the least, that Trump actually sponsored such an event, however briefly.  My research (again on, ahem, Google) indicates that no other President has ever been associated with a bicycle race, whether as a sponsor or participant--even though every President from Eisenhower onward, with the exceptions of Reagan and, ironically, Nixon, cycled during his adult life.  Even they, however, never made a point of expressing hostility toward cyclists the way Trump has.

So...What are we to make of the fact that the Inaugural Parade proceeded along a bicycle lane?