Debris Causes Fatal Bike Crash

One of the least-acknowledged hazards to cyclists is debris.

Once, I flatted when I ran over a metal strip used to bind bundles of lumber or bricks together for shipping to construction sites.  Work crews were leaving them on sidewalks and in streets until the city cracked down on them.  My tire was punctured near Tompkins Square Park; I fixed it in part because I wasn't takin' no stinkin' subway home when I could pedal.  Also, I might've been too poor to take the train!

I can joke about it now, but I'd heard of cyclists who suffered more serious accidents, resulting in serious injuries, as a result of running over those straps.  I've also heard of riders who crashed as a result of other kinds of debris or from sharp bumps that result from cement dripping from trucks and drying.  

As a result of my experiences, and of the stories I've heard, I occasionally clean up the section of bike lane that runs by my apartment, and pick up potentially-hazardous objects I find.  I like to think I'm helping to make conditions safer, and to prevent an accident.

Bill Woodard, about to embark on his last bike ride, 13 April 2021.  

Like the one that befell Bill Woodard in St. George, Utah.  Shortly before 11 am last Tuesday, responders were dispatched to Woodard, who lay on the side of Route 7.  He'd been riding with longtime friend and riding partner Gordon MacFarlane when he rode over a piece of metal that lodged into the spokes of his front wheel.  

The object that caused the crash.

Apparently, MacFarlane didn't hear it and assumed his friend was rolling behind him until a vehicle pulled up alongside him. Its driver yelled to him that a cyclist was lying on the side of the road.  He turned around and headed back to find ambulance crew members performing CPR on Woodard.

They--and MacFarlane--at first assumed that Woodard, who was 75 years old, suffered a heart attack or other medical issue.  But, it seems that anything they'd done would've been to no avail:  His neck was broken and he incurred serious head trauma.  Since Woodard never regained consciousness after falling, he couldn't tell anyone what happened, and the cause of his accident wasn't surmised until the object that lodged in his spokes was found.  

Kevin Kitchen, a spokesman for the Utah Department of Transportation, confirmed that debris is a "serious problem" in area roads and "much of the debris" the maintenance force finds "appears to have come from loads consisting of construction materials."

There is another little-acknowledged problem--much of the debris that is hazardous to cyclists, and to the general public, is a result of construction, especially in places like southern Utah that are experiencing construction booms. 

420 On 419

 Today is Cannabis Day.  According to at least one story, this date was chosen because "420" is police parlance for "pot smoking in progress." (With weed becoming legal in many state, this will become an interesting bit of history.)  Another account says that it this date comes from Bob Dylan's "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35":  Multiply those numbers and you get 420.  Ohh-kaay.  Some have also tied it to the fact that it's Adolf Hitler's birthday, though what he has to do with it is beyond me.

The most plausible explanation I've found is that it started with a group of Marin County high-schoolers who met at 4:20 in the afternoon on this date (or some fine day) in 1971 to "toke."  If that's true, today would mark the 50th anniversary of that historic encounter.

I have to wonder whether this "holiday" will grow or decline in importance now that "weed" is being legalized or decriminalized in one jurisdiction after another.  

One reason I mention 420, though, is its possible connection to another "chemical" holiday--one that is connected to a bicycle ride and about which I was remiss in not mentioning!

On 19 April 1943, Swiss chemist Albert Hofmann, often called the father of psychedelic medicine, took (dropped) lysergic acid diethylamide--at 4:20 pm--and went for a bike ride.  This might be the reason why the experiences--which, for some, resemble an almost-cinematic evolution of sensual stimuli-- that ensue from dropping acid are called a "trip."

From Double Blind

Believe it or not, it didn't become illegal to possess LSD in the United States until 24 October 1968.  But 19 April didn't become a holiday, if an unofficial one, until 1985, so it couldn't be called "Acid Day" without attracting the attention of authorities. You're a lot more likely to get busted for dropping than for toking:  For the latter, the gendarmes, depending on where and what race you are, might look the other way.  Thus did 19 April become World Bicycle Day.

As for Hofmann himself:  He described his experiences in rather vivid detail.  And he lived to be 102.  Maybe it had something to do with his bike-riding.

Dragons, Rescues And Purple Tulips

An early spring weekend of riding turned out to be a slalom:  I wove my way between bouts of rain and threats of rain, and among momentoes to death and loss and life's renewal.

First, to Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, the home of the Unisphere.  If you haven't been there, you saw it in "Men In Black."  I rode a route that took me through the park because I wanted to see the cherry blossoms.  The ceremony the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens holds was canceled this year, as it was last year.  It's still a great place to see the blooms because of the walks and paths lined with the trees, and the variety of cherry blossoms grown at the Gardens.  But those of us in the know will tell you that if you want to walk through a pink canopy without the throngs of selfie-takers, there's no better place in this city than FM-CP.

I think I might've been a bit early--or the trees might be blooming a bit later than they did last year:  The buds, lovely as they are, do not burst with color in the same way.  Like all buds, however, they are a visual reminder of hope and the future.  So, I can look forward to going back in a few days--I hope.

I did, however, see "Leo."

During the past few years, an inordinately high number of trees have toppled in this city's parks and on its streets.  Part of the reason is that once-in-a-century storms are striking every ten, five or even fewer years.  Another, as a park ranger told me, is that many trees are old and have been decaying from within for years.  

So, contrary to a rumor I may have just started, there isn't a dragon named Leo who knocks the trees down.  Maybe he's kept at bay by coolers of--Gatorade?  beer?--left for him!

My riding took me into Manhattan, the whole length of the island and beyond.  At its base, Battery Park--where you get the ferries to the Statue of Liberty and Staten Island--there's a memorial to members of the Merchant Marine who were wounded or killed in World War II.

According to the inscription, the sculptor was inspired by a photo.  I don't doubt it, but if said sculptor could also have claimed inspiration from something else:

I mean, can you imagine what the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel would look like had someone besides Pope Julius commissioned--or Michelangelo (one of my artistic heroes) painted it.  

(Fun fact: Michelangelo didn't want to do the ceiling.  He was at work on other projects and insisted he was primarily a sculptor rather than a painter.  During the course of working on it, he wrote poems, tinged with sarcasm, about his displeasure at working on the fresco.)

Another irreverent thought occurs to me:  Both Michelangelo's fresco and the sea sculpture can be seen as Rorsach tests of a sort:  When you see one hand reaching out to another, do you think the stronger one should grasp the other and pull the other up?  Or do you think the person being to whom the hand is being extended should learn to fend for himself?  Will the guy in the water start to swim and, if he doesn't, does he deserve help?  

At one time such a test would have classified me one way, and now it would reveal me in a different way.  All I'll say is that my days of writing editorials for libertarian publications are long past!

Anyway, near the monument is a cafe for tourists.  I must say that I was impressed with the garden around it:

With a setting like that, the cafe could serve sludge from the water and people would enjoy it!  Me, I enjoyed my weekend of riding, even if it wasn't high-mileage.