What If We'd Worn Them?

If you're of my generation, you didn't wear a bike helmet when you were a kid.  But, if you have kids, you probably are making them wear helmets when they ride--at least if you're in the US.

That got me to wondering:  What would our childhoods have been like if we wore bike helmets?

From Pixabay

You Don't Need Math To Do This

A few years after graduating from college, I bumped into a classmate in the Columbus Circle subway station.  Working for a then-new technology company, she said she liked the work and it paid decently but "nothing is what I expected it to be."

She explained that she got into the work she was doing after being a lawyer for a couple of years and "hating it even more than I thought I would."

"So you went to law school even though you didn't think you'd like practicing law?"

She nodded.  "Why?," I wondered.

"Because I didn't know what else to do.  And I can't do math."

That, for a time, was a running joke:  You got your undergraduate degree in whatever and you can't figure out what to do with it.  You may not know what you can or want to do, but at least if you can't do math, there's always law school.

I considered law school for about 15 minutes, but of course never went.  I must say, though, that some of my other choices have been influenced by my numerical ineptitude:  majoring in English literature and history as an undergraduate, working in publishing and public relations, writing and, of course, teaching.   None of the work I've done has required more computational skill than balancing a checkbook.

Now I'm going to make a confession:  One of the reasons I'm such a dedicated cyclist is that it, too, does not require any math.

All right, that's not really true.  But whether you are an astrophysicist or someone who uses a calculator to figure out how much your lunch cost, you can enjoy cycling. Just ask Nick Charalambous.

Nick Charalambous.  Photo by Ken Ruinard for the Anderson Independent Mail

The Anderson, South Carolina native undertook around his home state.  Yes, literally around it:  His route zigged and zagged along its Atlantic coastline, Savannah River banks and the border with North Carolina.  He'd been battling a rare form of lymphoma, and his ride was a way to celebrate his recovery and raise money for the Lukemia and Lymphoma Society.

He completed the ride.  But two mathematical calculations made it even more of a success than he'd anticipated.

First of all, he calculated that his 14-day ride would span 820 miles.  But, at the end of his ride, he realized his tabulations were erroneous:  When he looked at his maps and other information, he found out he'd actually pedaled 930 miles.

His second numerical mistake had to do with the money he raised.  His original goal was around $1000, and his pledges, he thought, would bring him to that amount.  But he underestimated his sponsors' generosity:  In the end, he raised $5250.

Nick Charlambous may not be very good at math.  But he makes up for that with his determination, which is how he completed his trip, even though he had never before taken a bike ride approaching its length or scope.  He also credits his faith which, he said, showed him that he was given "a body new" after his illness.

What he didn't gain, of course, was mathematical ability.  But he doesn't need it:  After all, who said you have to be any good at it to ride your bike?

The Sidewalk Was The Path To His Death

One thing I've learned during my trips to Florida is that many sidewalks are de facto bike lanes.  

More precisely, there are ribbons of concrete that wind and wend alongside multilane roads where the speed limit is 45 MPH (70 KPH)--which, in Florida, means 65 MPH.  One rarely sees a pedestrian on those "sidewalks", so there are no prohibitions against cycling on them.  

The good thing about them is that they are usually separated by at least a meter of something--usually grass or other vegetation--from the roadway.  Interestingly, I almost never see motorists pulling into them. I don't know whether there's a law against doing so.  My theory is that the drivers know some of those little "lawns" might actually be mini-swamps, and their vehicles could get stuck in them.

Riding on the "sidewalks" isn't bad:  Most are well-maintained and rather spacious.  But there are two major hazards I've found, both of which might be reasons why Florida has, by far, the highest death rate for cyclists in the US.

One is crossing traffic intersections.  Nearly all of those sidewalks lead cyclists and pedestrians into the path of right-turning vehicles, who are often going fast.  To make things worse, sightlines are often poor, so even the most conscientious of drivers could hit a cyclist who's clad head-to-toe in safety yellow.

Another is that, sometimes, parts of those sidewalks are blocked, without warning.  So, if you are moseying along and suddenly you find a crew from the power or water company drilling into your path, you have nowhere to go--except the roadway which, as often as not, doesn't have a shoulder.

Dr. Robert Dalton Jr.

Dr. Robert Dalton Jr. encountered such a scenario while pedaling from his home to the Maitland Sun Rail station where, on a normal day, he'd catch the train that would take him to Orlando Health, where he practiced his profession as a cardiologist.

His work no doubt saved more than a few lives.  But nobody could save his on 17 December, when he was struck by a driver.

The sidewalk was blocked for construction of an apartment complex.  This has led to some finger-pointing between the local officials--who say that the construction company should have erected scaffolding that would have allowed cyclists and pedestrians to pass underneath--and the construction company, who say that the city or county or whomever should have put out blinking lights or other warnings for drivers to slow down.

Of course, the scaffolding would have been the better alternative.  But even that would not have addressed other problems, like the ones I've mentioned, that are found on Florida sidewalks-cum-bike lanes.  And, of course, nothing will bring back a well-regarded doctor and beloved member of his family and community.