In Michigan: A Ride To Reconnect And Remember

 In many places, COVID-19 restrictions are loosening or being abolished altogether.  This has resulted in a number of “firsts “:  People are going places and doing things they haven’t seen or done in more than a year.  Last night, I had my first sit-down dinner in a restaurant since the pandemic began.  A friend treated me for helping her to buy, and fix, her bike.

Speaking of which: Club and other group rides are reconvening. For most cyclists, such rides are a time of joy, or at least relief.

They and other “firsts” can, however, be tinged with sadness and grief.  A favorite cafe may have closed or a chef or server might be gone. So might some riding buddies.

Photo by Trace Christensen, from the Battle Creek Enquirer 

Such was the case for a group of Michigan cyclists who rode together on Tuesday evening.  As they embarked from Mike’s Team Active Bikes in Battle Creek, owner Mike Wood, who rode with them, reminded everyone of five riders who were not with them.

From left: Melissa Ann Fevig Hughes, Suzanne Sippel, Debbie Bradley, Tony Nelson and Larry Paulik

On that day five years earlier, Debbie Bradley, Suzanne Joan Sippel, Lorenz John (Larry) Pauli’s, Fred Anton (Tony) Nelson and Melissa Ann Fevig Hughes were mowed down by an impaired driver in a pickup truck.  Four other cyclists who accompanied them survived the experience, but are still dealing with the physical and emotional trauma that resulted.

As with many other “firsts,” Tuesday’s ride in Battle Creek was a time to reconnect—and reflect.

Rust Belt Reverse Robin Hood

It’s  bad enough when a bike shop is robbed.  I feel for the owners and employees who are trying to make a living while providing valuable services.

A robbery is all the more galling when its target is a non-profit shop committed to making bicycles to everyone who can ride.  It’s worse still when such a shoo is located in an area where the need is great.

The scenario described in the previous paragraph took place on Sunday night, around 9:30. A surveillance video shows someone smashing a cash register in the parking lot.  According to reports, the amount of cash the perp took was not great, but it surely matters to a shop like Toledo Bikes.  

So did the bike he took from the showroom floor—and another bike taken yesterday morning by someone who entered through the door broken by whoever filched the first bike.

A man has been arrested in relation to yesterday‘s theft. Police haven’t yet confirmed whether he, or someone else, is responsible for the first robbery.

A local glass repair company, no doubt cognizant of Toledo Bikes’ value to the community (and its probably-minuscule budget) has offered to replace the broken glass door.

Cycles And Carrots In Cuba

 Although bicycle commuting and transportation is on the rise here in the USA, the bicycle is still commonly associated with pleasure, fitness, recreation and sport. That, I believe, is why cyclists incur resentment and antagonism from drivers:  Most Americans drive because their communities and lifestyles all but require it.  Even in my hometown of New York City, there are “transportation deserts,” defined as places more than a 15-minute walk from a subway or bus station. Truth be told, many of us who ride to work, school or wherever have other options.

In other parts of the world, the situation is different:  People pedal because they don’t have other options.  In fact, many associate bicycles with poverty and hard times. Irina Echarry describes this in her article published in today’s Havana Times.

She also draws a very interesting connection: whenever the economy takes a turn for the worse in Cuba, “two things flourish: fields and bikes.”  People “turn to planting their own crops so they don’t die of hunger,” she explains, and “turn to bikes so they can keep moving.”

When she draws that comparison between planting a vegetable garden and riding a bike, she is saying that both are means to self-sufficiency,  and even survival.