Lincoln's Ride

As a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, you may not be doing your regular commute.  I have mixed feelings about not doing mine:  a varied route, I enjoyed it--especially the stretch in Randall's Island--but as a result of not doing it, I've had more time--at least when I'm not getting doored or shoveling snow!--to ride for fun.

I wonder whether Abraham Lincoln felt the same way about his commute.  

For three summers (1862-64), he moved to a cottage in Petworth.  Today it's a fashionable neighborhood in the northwestern part of Washington, DC.  In Lincoln's time, however, it was still mainly rural.  And, although contraptions we'd recognize as bicycles had been created, they weren't in wide use.  So, Abe made the three-mile trip from Petworth to the White House on a horse.

Although he moved to the house for space and fresh air--and, one assumes, to escape from the pressures of leading the nation during its Civil War--he liked the commute because it brought him into contact with those affected by his decisions, according to Jenny Phillips of President Lincoln's Cottage.  On his route he would have seen, among other things, the Captiol building, which was under construction. He also passed First National Cemetery, which predated Arlington and where 40 bodies were buried every day.

In the summer of 2018, the Cottage and DC Cycling Concierge hosted a bike tour that re-traced the 16th President's route.  Unlike them, Lincoln rode alone--until someone shot at him. (The bullet went through his top hat.)  After that, he agreed to ride with a cavalry.  

He requested that Mary, his wife, not be told.  I suspect, though, that none of the DC Cycling Concierge or the Cottage had to hide the details of their ride from anyone.  I'm sure they're wishing him a happy birthday today!

Between Snowstorms

Yesterday afternoon I pedaled along the Queens and Brooklyn waterfronts to Coney Island.  More snow was on the way, so I wanted to get a few miles in.  

Along the way, I encountered a few things I expected, such as snow piled (deliberately?) on the bike lanes and ice patches.  

And on the Coney Island Boardwalk:

Even the sea and sky seemed to reflect the storm's residue:

The funny thing is that the Verrazano Narrows promenade (the one that passes under the bridge), which I rode on my way home, was snow- and ice-free--and teeming with people out for late-day walks.  I think I saw two or three other cyclists.

I admit that I wasn't riding fast.  But it was good, all good.

 

Another Kind Of Justice

 The second Senate impeachment trial continues today.  But I am going to talk about another kind of justice:  the poetic kind.

One fine day in 2017, Juli Briskman rode her bike in Sterling, Virginia.  Minivans passed beside her.  That in itself is not unusual. Even the fact that they were black would not have been noteworthy, especially given the proximity of Ms. Briskman's route to the nation's capital city.

But she knew who was in one of those vehicles:  the owner of the nearby golf course. She made a gesture toward him because she knew he probably wouldn't have heard what she might have said:  Truck Fump.

All right, that's an anagram of what she could have said.  So you know what kind of gesture she made.  Who among us has not made it at motorists who cut us off or did other things to endanger us?

Normally, such an incident would go unnoticed.  But someone posted it, and it went viral.  Someone brought it to the attention of her employer--a government contracting firm.  As a result, she lost her job as a marketing executive because her bosses decided she'd violated the company's code of conducted.

Now, there are all kinds of ways people deal with the loss of their jobs.  They depend mainly on the fired employee's circumstances and temperament:  They can look for another job, sue, go into business for themselves, go back to school or pursue something they've always wanted to do, among other things.

Juli Briskman decided to run for office.

In November, she won a seat in the Algnonkian District of the Loudon County Board of Supervisors.  Sworn in last month, her new job includes overseeing leisure facilities.  

In that capacity, she's already helped to build bicycle lanes in her district.  Oh, and she's worked to remove a Confederate monument and release funds for COVID-19 relief.

And she's a Democrat.

Hmm...a Democrat working to build bike lanes and remove Confederate monuments--and release funds for COVID-19 relief.  In just a few weeks, she's managed to accomplish three things Mango Mussolini would hate.  It sounds like poetic justice to me.

Photos in this post by Brendan Smialowski, from Getty Images.