I Rode Under This "Canopy"

 On Saturday, I did my 140 km ride to the Greenwich Commons, in Connecticut, and bike.  It was the first time I'd done the ride in nearly a month.  I decided on that ride because, well, it's become a favorite and clear skies, brisk breeze and high temperature of 24 C (about 75F) belied the hideous conditions that prevailed a couple of days earlier, when Ida breached my apartment.  

As lovely as the day was, I wondered what I'd find in Ida's wake.  There wasn't as much water as I'd expected but, not surprisingly, I encountered a few downed trees, including this one on the path through Pelham Bay Park in the Bronx:

Where others would see an obstacle that would detour or turn them back, I saw a canopy.  The "arc" was just barely high enough for me to ride through, bent down with my hands gripping the bottom of my Nitto 177 bars. But I made it through, slowing down only slightly.

I encountered a few large fallen branches along the back streets of Rye and Port Chester, and Glenville Street, which winds through woodlands and along the edge of the gentry's estates in Connecticut.  But at least I could easily ride around those, even if it wasn't as (ego-) gratifying as riding under the "canopy" in Pelham Bay Park.  

A Memorial On The Labor Day Tour

Every year from 1940 until 1942 and 1947 until 2019, the Tour of Sommerville--"the Kentucky Derby of cycling"--was held on Memorial Day.  That day, on the fourth Monday of May, is called "the unofficial beginning of Summer in the United States.

For many, today--Labor Day--is the unofficial end of the season.  The following day, most people have returned to work. (Grim but interesting fact:  Mohammed Atta, the "mastermind" of 9/11, chose that date because it fell on the Tuesday following Labor Day, when he figured almost everybody would be on their jobs--and thus provide more potential victims.)  So, I suppose it's appropriate that the Tour of Somerville, after being cancelled altogether last year, was re-scheduled to this date.  

Near the race course stands a monument to Furman Kugler, who won the event's first two editions.  Encased in Plexiglas is a photo of him next to the bike he rode--a Shelby Classic.  Interestingly, it bears more semblance to a track than a criterium bike of its time, with its wooden rims and fixed gear.  According to Tom Avenia, it was de rigeur at the time.  I'd take his word on that:  He rode in several editions of the Tour--on a fixed gear, during the 1950s and early 1960s.

Perhaps more to the point, neither Kugler nor Carl Anderson, who won in 1942, would return when the Tour resumed:  Both lost their lives while fighting in World War II.

Perhaps the monument to Kugler would be more fitting on Memorial Day.  But at least it's there, and the Tour is running again this year.

I Don't Think Elton John Had Him In Mind

This video reminded me of something I might've seen on a Saturday morning cartoon:

A man identified only as Wang--a common surname in his native Taiwan--purchased a small  jet engine designed for a radio-controlled airplane.  Then a university professor helped him in mounting it on his bicycle.

He took it for a ride in the city of Tainan, where he reportedly achieved a top speed of 133 KPH (82 MPH). Attached to his bike was a small bottle to hold rocket fuel.  But there was only enough to run the engine for 30 seconds.

I don't know what Wang was trying to achieve, but if it was a contract from a racing team or a commercial endorsement, he must have been disappointed when he answered the knock at his door:  Local police informed him that his ride violated multiple road and traffic regulations. The cost of his ride, therefore, won't be limited to the 330,000 yuan (11,900 USD) he spent to build his contraption.