A Testimony And An Anniversary

Today is quite the interesting day.

One reason has nothing--that I know of, anyway--to do with cycling.  It is, of course, the confirmation hearing about Judge Brett Kavanugh's nomination to the Supreme Court.  

I have great respect for Christine Blasey Ford, who is testifying about the sexual assault she experienced from a drunken Kavanaugh when they were in high school.  For a number of reasons, I believe her, as I did Anita Hill, and am sympathetic to both.  


The other thing that makes today interesting is actually even more related to cycling than most people realize.  Twenty years ago today, the ubiquitous search engine Google was launched, when the Internet was just starting to gain wide usage among the general public.

Google, along with the Internet itself, has changed the world of cycling in all sorts of ways.  For one thing, I assume that some of you reading this found your way to this blog via a Google search.  Now, I don't think too many people type "transgender woman bike blog" into their search bars.  But I suspect at least some of you ended up here after looking up something or another related to cycling and followed other related links or websites.

Also, it's changed the way many of us find information related to cycling and purchase cycling equipment.  I'm sure that most of you have, by now, investigated a repair question or did a comparison of, say, one saddle or tire vs. another with a Google search.  And, I'd bet that a good portion of internet sales for retailers like Modern Bike, Velo Orange, Tree Fort Bikes and Harris Cyclery--and most, if not all, Amazon purchases--come by way of Google.

Through the bike-related sites and blogs we find as a result of Google searches, I think many of us are aware of a greater variety of bicycles and ways of riding them, not to mention accessories and other equipment related to them, than we had been (or might have been if we weren't around before the Internet).  Ironically, Google--a development of the digital age--has had much to do with the interest in retro (and retro-inspired and -styled) bikes and accessories. 

Finally, this increased access to products and information has led, for some of us, to contact with cyclists we might otherwise never have encountered.  Some I have met in person and accompany on rides.  Others, though--you know who you are--converse with me on bikes and a variety of other topics from California, Illinois, Finland, Ohio, Scotland, France and other places far from where I live.

I can't predict what will come of the hearings or Google.  Good things, I hope.

Where Cycling Isn't All Sunshine

For years, Florida has had, by far, the highest death rate for cyclists and pedestrians of any US state.  One study found that in 2012, as many cyclists were killed by motor vehicles in the Sunshine State as in Great Britain, which is roughly the same size, but has three times as many people and about as many more cyclists.

So, perhaps, it is no surprise that the Tampa Bay area has the highest cyclist fatality rate of any metropolitan area in the US, and that Pinellas--one of the four counties that comprises the area--has the highest rate of any county.

Florida's and the Tampa Bay Area's statistics are part of a study conducted by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration and reported yesterday in The Wall Street Journal.   

The article also included another interesting and disturbing--for folks who cycle in Florida (as I do for a few days every year), anyway.  Of the 50 major metropolitan areas in the US, the four with the highest rates of cyclists killed by motor vehicles--Tampa Bay-St. Petersburg, Jacksonville, Orlando and Miami--are all in Florida.  

I have cycled in Miami and near Jacksonville and Orlando.  For all the pleasure I've had in riding in those places, I can't say I'm surprised.  I do exercise more caution when I cycle in the land of manatees and armadillos than I employ even in New York, my hometown, or Paris.  I have my reasons.

For one thing, Florida, like much of the southern and western US, has an infrastructure and culture that is more auto-centric than they are in The Big Apple.  Although there are many nice side roads and trails, many of them are accessible only by highways or other heavily-trafficked roads.  And those main roads, as often as not, don't have a shoulder, let alone a dedicated bike lane.

Also, while there are more vehicles in New York than in any Florida city, people from the Keys to the Panhandle drive more often and longer.  That means traffic that can be as heavy as--and less regulated than--its counterparts in Northeastern or West Coast metropoli.

That also means drivers are more likely to be driving only themselves.  In my experience, solo drivers are more likely to take risks or simply lapse in concentration than drivers with passengers.

And, as we all know, Florida is a haven for senior citizens.  I have found nearly all of them to be careful, courteous drivers.  But--and I mean no offense to any seniors reading this--after a certain age, people's reflexes slow down, their sight dims and their hearing dulls.  I have seen at least a few people during my travels (and, to be fair, here in New York) who probably shouldn't be driving any more.

Finally, as the Journal article mentions, alcohol and distracted driving also play roles.  They also are hazards for cyclists in other places, but if my own experience is any indication, there is more of both in Florida than in other places I've ridden.  To be fair, I think the police, at least in some areas of the state, are making more of an effort to crack down on drinking or texting while driving.  But even the most vigilant gendarmes can catch only a small number of offenders and, I believe, there isn't as much of a cultural taboo against drinking and driving in Daytona Beach as there is in, say, Park Slope or Back Bay.

Across Rivers, Oceans--And Aeons

It's funny how a bit of travel can make you see a familiar bike ride in a new way.

So, for that matter, can doing the ride with new partners--or with partners if you'd previously done it solo.

That's how I found myself seeing the roads and trails of the Palisades when I pedaled them with Bill and Cindy the other day.

It's also the first time I've ridden with either of them in a while:  They've been spending their weekends in a secret hideaway they told me about. 

Seeing this plant--a giant fern, a small tree or something else--made me visualize, if for a moment, some of the flora and fauna I saw while riding in Cambodia.

And this sheer rock face made me forget--even though I've seen it before--that it's just across the river from the Cloisters--which, in turn, can make you forget that you're in Upper Manhattan.

The further you ride into the trails, and the closer you get to the river, the easier it is to feel you're not within a few kilometers of the George Washington Bridge.

But something one of them said really made me see this old familiar ride in a new way:  "You can almost imagine what it was like when the native people lived here."

Yes, sheer rock faces and colorful plants seem like eons as well as worlds away from the West Side Highway.  It almost seems possible to remember that whatever structures were in the area weren't made of steel or glass--or even brick.

As we were imagining people who are long gone and vistas changed, I found myself thinking back to Cambodia, where most of the population are Khmers, the people who have lived on that land for milennia.  Much of their landscape hasn't changed in centuries, whether in jungles that haven't been touched or the Angkor Wat and other temples, which were standing for centuries before the land we rode yesterday was called "New Jersey" and the other side of the river was named "New York", or even "New Amsterdam."  

Those temples still stand today, seemingly as much a part of the land as the rock face we saw.

Note:  The penultimate photo was not, of course, taken on the New Jersey Palisades.  The others, however, were.

The Angkor Wat photo, as well as the first two in this post and the "blueberry" photo near the end, were taken by me.  Bill took the others.