Yesterday, on the 50th anniversary the first moonwalk, I wrote about Dr. Rhett Allain's wonderful article on what it would take to ride a bicycle to the moon.
If I live long enough to see all of that technology develop, and eat my vegetables and drink my milk (I do one of those things now!), I just might make it to the Sea of Tranquility.
Now that I think about it, I wonder whether I'd want to take such a trip. After all, if I could go to Paris and bump into someone I hadn't seen in twenty years, who knows who (or what) I might encounter in another world:
As a teenager, I followed the journey of John Rakowski, who rode his bicycle around the globe. In all, it took him three years to pedal through every continent except Antarctica.
Up to that time, one other journey so captured my imagination: the Apollo 11 flight. Exactly fifty years ago on this date, Neil Armstrong alighted from the space capsule and became the first human to set foot on the moon.
I must say, though, that the moon landing didn't sustain my interest in the same way Rakowski's trip did, mainly because the trip from Cape Canaveral to the lunar surface took only four days, and a few days later, Armstrong and fellow astronauts Buzz Aldrin (who followed in Armstrong's steps) and Michael Collins returned.
Moreover, you couldn't escape (even if you wanted to) seeing or hearing about Apollo 11: literally everything else, from Bewitched to ballgames, was pre-empted for moment-by-moment coverage of the event. It really took no effort to follow the moon mission. On the other hand, the only news, it seemed, you could get about Rakowski's trip was his serialized accounts in Bicycling!, which came out every month.
I mention him and the astronauts today because of an interesting Wired article. Rhett Allain is a physicist who can actually explain his work in terms that folks like me can understand. Heck, he's even entertaining. But what makes his article so wonderful is that he takes a seemingly idle question (which, I admit, I have pondered) and answers it in a way that makes the process of scientific research comprehensible and fascinating while showing its complexities.
The question is this: How long would it take to ride a bicycle to the moon? The short answer is 267 days, but that assumes that the cyclist weighs 75 kg (165 pounds) and puts out the same amount of energy as a Tour de France cyclist would--for 24 hours a day. He acknowledges that such a combination of factors is impossible, and that other things come into play, such as what sort of cable or other contraption would serve as the rider's route between worlds and a bicycle capable of being ridden on it.
One thing that's great about Dr. Allain's article is that it reveals just how complicated a task it was to land humans on the moon, and why accomplishing it little more than six years after JFK's proclamation was nothing short of miraculous.
Alert: The video includes footage of a truck striking a cyclist.
This one hits close to home--no pun intended!
When I lived in Park Slope, Brooklyn, I cycled along Fifth Avenue nearly every day. Those weren't my "fun" rides--far more pleasant streets and Prospect Park were close by--but I did much of my shopping, as well as a number of errands on Fifth.
Then--the '90's and early '00s--the Avenue was lined with small shops of all kinds. Some had been in the same family for a couple of generations; others were owned by young people who sold the sorts of books, clothes and music you wouldn't find in "big box" stores. As the avenue is narrow, traffic could be congested and chaotic, but there was at least some level of respect between drivers--many of whom were making deliveries--and cyclists and pedestrians. So, even though there was no bike lane, I never worried while threading through traffic and parked vans.
Fifth Avenue still doesn't have a bike lane, protected or otherwise. I still ride there occasionally, but my recent experiences confirm something I've heard from other cyclists--and read in a news report: Drivers aren't good about sharing the road.
Those accounts also confirm something else I've experienced on Fifth Avenue and elsewhere: Some of the most reckless riders are on Citibikes. A police officer has said as much to me: When he sees someone with earbuds blowing through a red light, or making a careless turn, there's a good chance he (Sorry guys, they're usually young men!) is on one of those blue share bikes.
Such was the case Tuesday morning, when a Citibiker cut across traffic in both directions--against a red signal--and was hit by a truck.
While the cyclist in question--identified only as a 39-year-old man--is expected to survive, he was knocked unconscious and suffered serious injuries. The crumpled Citibike was still on the side of the road during the evening rush hour.
Now, I might sound like one of those New Yorkers who blames tourists for everything she doesn't like, but I really believe that, to some degree, Citibike has made cycling--and, for that matter, walking--less safe than it was. While some commuters ride Citibikes, more are used by people who are in town for a day or a few days and are not accustomed to riding here or are just more careless because they figure they won't be here long enough to have to face the consequences of their actions.
To be fair, similar things could be said about many of the drivers found along Park Slope's Fifth Avenue today. They come and go: There's a good chance that the one you see today (or tonight), you'll never see again. In contrast, I used to see the same delivery drivers, as well cyclists and pedestrians, several times a week, if not every day. In other words, those folks were, in essence if not in fact, friends and neighbors. That, I believe, is a reason why drivers, even if they didn't understand cyclists, didn't harbor or express the kind of hostility we often experience today.
Oh, and it's a lot easier to see cyclists as "them" when their bikes all look--or are--the same.
That said, I hope the fellow who was struck on Fifth Avenue recovers--and that he and the drivers he encounters are more mindful of each other.
