An Early Spring Reverie

Yesterday definitely felt like Spring.  The weather was pleasantly cool and the skies almost preternaturally bright. Breezes blew from the ocean, sometimes turning into winds.

It was a great day, in short, for a ride of, oh, about 105 or 110 kilometers.  A trip to Point Lookout and back falls very neatly into that range, depending on whether and how I vary my route.

I didn't see as many people along the Rockaway boardwalks as I expected.  However, a lot of people were roaming around the area, and on the beach, both in the Rockaways and in Long Beach.  And, while I enjoyed a piece of English Blue Stilton cheese and two whole wheat bagels, a few families stopped at Point Lookout to take portraits on the rocks, with the waves in the background.

Well, all right, there weren't any waves. Or, at least, they weren't the kind that lash against the rocks.  I don't think I've ever seen the tide recede as much as it had yesterday.

On other rides, I've seen sandbars form on the north side of the bay.  But yesterday, for the first time, I saw another on the south side.  They almost merged:

Meantime, Vera was soaking up some sun.  She's getting and giving some good rides. Don't worry:  My other Mercians will see the road this soon--actually, this week, I hope.  I was doing some maintenance on them and now I have a few days off for spring break!

And, yes, my project Trek will also see some "duty", too!

How Many Bananas?

Last week, while out for a ride, I stopped at a Halal cart for a falafel.  It got me to thinking about how much the definition of "street food" has changed here in New York.  

In addition to falafel, hummus and those tasty chicken-and rice or lamb-and-rice dishes the Middle Eastern street cooks/vendors offer, it's possible to buy tacos, pizza, curries, waffles, sushi, various kinds of sandwiches, fried chicken, lobster rolls, crepes, salads, meat-on-a-stick and cupcakes as well as familiar fare like ice cream and almost anything based on coffee or tea from various trucks and carts all over the city.

It wasn't so long ago that "street food" in the Big Apple meant "dirty water" hot dogs (with mustard and barbecued onions), knishes and pretzels that were baked dry, then burnt on the hot plates the vendors used to warm them up.

Ruminating about such urban delicacies (as if I don't have better uses for my brain cells!) led me to recall the days when "energy bars" hadn't been invented.  Back then, we carried "trail mix" or other combinations of dried fruits, nuts (and, for some of us, chocolate) as well as other fruits--especially bananas.

In fact, when I was co-editing a club newsletter, we had a five-banana rating system for rides.  The most difficult rides, of course, got five while the easiest rides were marked with only one.

That system would have been entirely useless had someone shown up to ride in this:

From Extreme Mobility

A Story I Didn't Want To Repeat

One of the things my students learn--if they don't already know it--is that the same stories repeat themselves, whether in literature, the other arts, journalism or "real life".

As for the latter:  Yes, another story repeated itself in life.  In fact, it's one I wrote about just yesterday in this blog.  Unfortunately, it's not the sort of account I, or anyone else, enjoys repeating.  But here goes:

Another motorist drove into the back of another cyclist in Florida--in more or less the same part of the Sunshine State, no less.  

Frank Atkisson in the Florida State Legislature, 2003

Yesterday, I told you about Alan Snel.  He survived the ordeal, although he still has a lot of recovery ahead of him.  Frank Atkisson, on the other hand was not as fortunate:  The force of 26-year-old Kristie Jean Knoebel's car ended his life shortly after he was struck while riding at around 7pm the other day.

Although Snel's experience garnered a lot of attention among cycling advocates and journalists--Alan is both--it didn't reverberate through the general population the way Atkisson's unfortunate encounter has.  At least, his tragedy has caused the general public--in Florida, anyway, to take notice.

You might say that it's because Atkisson, unfortunately, died.  But another reason is that he served in the Florida House of Representatives for eight years, and was also a city council member and the mayor of Kissimmee as well as a Commissioner in Osceola County.

I don't want to trivialize his death, or even to seem overly cynical, when I say that his visibility to the people of Florida--especially to his fellow politicians--might be the impetus to make conditions safer in what is the deadliest state for cyclists.

Maybe, just maybe. We can always hope.  But for now, we can only mourn him--and be thankful that Alan Snel is still with us.