What Ida Did

 The sun is shining brightly and the temperature is more like one would expect at this time of day mid-May rather than early September.  But I haven’t gotten on any of my bikes.  

No, I’m not deterred by the wind, which would be strong even if today were a March or April day. Nor is the fact that I don’t have anywhere to go today is a reason for me not to ride. And, thankfully, I haven’t had another crash. (Knock on wooden rims!)

Oh, and I’m home, but not because almost everyone else is.  The reason why most of them aren’t at work or school, though, is a reason, if indirectly, why I haven’t ridden—yet.

As you have probably heard, Hurricane Ida unleashed some of her fury on this part of the world.  Although we, here in New York, haven’t experienced the same level of devastation folks in New Orleans have endured, we had the single wettest hour in this city’s history.  That record downpour eclipsed the one we experienced two weeks ago, when Tropical Storm Henri blew up this way!

So how has Ida kept me from riding, so far, today?  Well, she spilled some of her rage into my apartment.  Fortunately, Marlee is OK and neither my bikes, my books nor anything else was damaged.  And, although the lights flickered a couple of times, my apartment didn’t lose power.  Still, I spent about half of the night drying out and cleaning up. I think it wasn’t the physical labor as much as the emotional stress that has left me exhausted.

I probably will take a nap after I post this.  Perhaps I’ll be up for a late-day or early-evening ride.  Otherwise, my bikes will have to wait until tomorrow.

The First—To Be Recognized

On this date 50 years ago, two baseball teams took to the field.  The game they would play would have little bearing on league standings:  One team held a comfortable lead in its division; the other was fighting to stay out of last place.

Two players,  however, noticed that something was different.  Pittsburgh Pirates’ catcher Manny Sanguillen recalls that his teammate Dave Cash alerted him that something unprecedented was happening.  “We have nine brown players on the field,” Sanguillen, a native of Panama, said to himself.

A quarter-century after Jackie Robinson became the first known* Black player in Major League Baseball, the Pittsburgh Pirates—who would win the World Series that year—fielded an entirely nonwhite lineup against their cross-state rivals, the Philadelphia Phillies.

I am mentioning that milestone on this blog because some have accused cycling of having a “color problem.”  I don’t disagree, though I believe the “problem” is different from what is commonly perceived.

If you look at images of cyclists in advertising and other media, you might come to the conclusion that cycling is “a white thing” or that “Blacks don’t ride.”

Just as African Americans have been playing baseball for as long as the game has existed (and Latin Americans for nearly as long), black and brown (and yellow and red) people have been riding almost since the first bicycles were made.  

Anyone familiar with the history of cycling knows about Major Taylor, the first Black cycling World Champion.  There have been other Black and Brown elite riders in the century since Taylor‘s victory, but they haven’t received the recognition, let alone the money, of white champions—including some who won by, ahem, questionable methods. Their lower visibility causes bike makers and related companies to conclude that people darker than themselves don’t mount.

If you live in any large US city, the kids riding BMX in the park are more than likely not to be White.  So are the folks who deliver portfolios or pizzas—or go to work in stores, warehouses or other places—by bicycle.

Oh, and I’ve seen more than a few groups, formally organized or not, of Black or Hispanic people, riding to train or just for fun. In fact, when I was a regular off-rode rider, I pedaled singletrack and local trails with a “posse” in which I was the only White rider.

The thing is, such riding usually goes unnoticed by those who form the public images of cyclists,  just as great Black and Latin American hitters and pitchers—who were at least the equal of their White counterparts—remained as invisible as most Little Leaguers when they played in the Negro Leagues rather than the self-appointed Major Leagues.

*—I have enormous respect for Jackie Robinson. But it’s entirely possible that he wasn’t the first Black Major League Baseball player: Others, including Babe Ruth himself, were rumored to be Negroes who passed as white.

How Many?

 An unfortunate fact of our lives is that we don’t have to wait very long or look very far to hear or read about a cyclist injured or killed by a motorist.

An online article from the Tampa Bay Times, however, grabbed my attention because its headline began with these two words: “Impaired Driver.”  

Brian Thomas was driving a 2017 Mitsubishi Outlander southbound along Seminole Drive.  Around 11:3O pm on Saturday, Nole Karcher was walking his bicycle across the Drive. 

Shortly afterwards, Karcher was declared dead at the scene and Thomas was in custody. 

Though there was no evidence of alcohol, Thomas failed some sobriety exercises and refused to take others, according to the Pinellas County Sheriff’s Office.  That led to deputies searching and finding several pills including clonezpam, a tranquilizer used to treat anxiety and seizures.  

Clonezpam is a controlled substance and Thomas did not produce a prescription.  So, in addition to a charge of causing death while driving under the influence, he is facing charges of illegal possession.  Oh, and according to the Sheriff’s Office, speed was also “a factor” in the crash.

While reading the account, I started to wonder:  In how many incidents of motorists running down cyclists is driver impairments the, or a, major factor? I suspect the number, or at least the percentage, is high.