The Constables' Response Boiled Someone's Bacon

 In January, I wrote about a British judge who, in sentencing two thieves, took into account that each of the bicycles they swiped costs more than many automobiles.  His thinking on this matter is more advanced than that of just about any of his counterparts in the US, or almost any American law enforcement officer.

In that post, I also expressed the hope that his insight also includes other effects of bicycle theft on the people who lose their machines.  While I empathise with the shop owner who loses multiple bikes with five-figure price tags, like the one who was victimized by the perps the judge sentenced, similar incidents probably don't comprise the vast majority of bike thefts.  More often, I imagine, those episodes include the nurse, teacher, store employee, student or someone else who locks their bike to a street sign outside their place of work or study in the morning and returns to find said sign sans velo at the end of the day.  Those incidents also include folks whose garages, sheds or homes are broken into and who may also lose other items or cash along with their bikes.

The latter scenario unfolded in Windsor.  As in the Duke Of.  The unfortunate property owner lost a Trek Madone with a graphite-colored Land Rover and other high-monetary value items.  In response, Thames Valley police tweeted an appeal for help in finding the bike.  Their message included a description, taken from surveillance videos, of the thieves and their getaway vehicle:  a white Audi A3 with plate number GN64 XMM.  

That message "boiled my bacon," in the words of one respondent.  For one thing, that person complained about the constables heading the tweet with the title "high value burglary" so that "some resident who is very very well off for a bob or three can pull strings!"

That respondent has a point, and amplified it with this, "Yet a local fella in Caversham has his electric bike stolen while in Reading and he can ill-afford to replace it until he's saved up enough earnings, and Thames Valley Police weren't interested."

That person has a great point.  While some ride electric bikes for pleasure or to commute to school or well-paying jobs, if the situation in England is anything like it is here in New York, I imagine that the majority of electric bikes are used by delivery workers.  Most of them are immigrants who speak English not well or at all and have few, if any, marketable skills or credentials recognized in their adopted country.  Therefore, as the person who reacted to the bobbies' tweet pointed out, they either save for their machines or buy them on credit or an installment plan, whether payment arrangements are made with their employer or bike dealer.

And the student or worker who parks and loses a battered old ten- or three-speed is losing his or her means of transportation and, possibly recreation or fitness.  Such things are often more important, especially where mass transportation is spotty or unreliable and for people who may not have the spare funds to join a gym or for other recreational activities.

I think the judge I mentioned in my earlier post and whoever reacted to Thames Valley Police tweet should get together and preside over a court for bike theft!

This Pyschologist Doesn't Think We're Crazy

If you cycle because you want to, non-cyclists probably have referred to you by any number of adjectives and epithets.  One of them might be "crazy."

I'll admit that I actually called one of my fellow cyclists "crazy."  So, however, did other members of our "crew."  Actually, Ray Tirado wasn't crazy so much as he was fearless and seemingly incapable of feeling physical pain. (All right, some might argue that such a combination of traits might add up to a listing or two in the DSM.) Most of our rides together were off-road and he made jumps and descents that, even when I still had most of my insecurity and testosterone, I wouldn't have dared.  Even on a straightaway on a the road, under a clear sky with the wind at our backs, I could see that his attitude toward riding, and life, was different from anything I could imagine.

That said, I admire him to this day.  Even though he seemed to be riding "gonzo," whether on off his bike, he always seemed to understand who he is--which meant that the risks he took weren't just acts of hubris:  He was pushing his boundaries because he understood what they were and didn't want them to be boundaries any more.

I must admit that, to this day, I value few compliments I've ever received  for anything more than the ones he gave me for my riding (!) and "for being you," as he once said.  "You know why you ride, or do anything you do."

He got half of that statement right.  To this day, I sometimes do things without knowing why.  Cycling is not one of them, which is why it's one of the few things I can't imagine my life without.

You see, after half a century of dedicated riding--which has included commuting, touring, racing, messenger work, riding on and off the road in all kinds of conditions in about two dozen different countries--I can say that I understand the risks of sluicing through city traffic, barreling down a rocky hill or pedaling into the teeth of a mistral as well as anyone.

And I know, as "Crazy Ray" surely did, that those risks are outweighed by the benefits, not the least of which are the ones for our mental health.  One of the world's most influential people also understands as much--which is why he got me to thinking about Ray.

He's just published his latest book, Rationality:  What It Is, Why It Seems Scarce, Why It Matters.  One way you know he's an academician is that the book title has a colon in it. But he's more than that:  a real intellectual, a thinker.  That means that, as much as he enjoys cycling, it's not an unconscious or reflexive act for him.  "Given the value you put on your life and the fact that there's even a very small probability of getting killed," he asks, "does it outweigh the pleasure and health benefits of continuing to ride?"

Steven Pinker.  

The people who can't understand why we ride are usually focused on the first part of his question:  the risk.  But Steven Pinker, a Harvard psychologist who specializes in psycholinguistics and social relations, has been thinking about why he rides for as long as he's been riding. For example, as a kid, he tried to understand how he could remain upright while riding, which would lead him to learn about the brain's workings and how they relate to Newton's law of gravity.  Also, while growing up, he heard about men--including three uncles and several of his father's friends--dying prematurely of heart attacks.  So, he says, as a young man he resolved to keep himself in good cardiovascular health.  His studies in neuroscience would confirm the wisdom of his choice:  "physical exercise is one of the best ways to extend brain health."

So, the Harvard researcher and my old riding buddy--who, by the way, was a plumber--would agree on this:  Riding a bicycle is as about as rational as anything a human being can do.
 

Riding From Hunger

 When you reach a certain age, you see young people who don't ride nearly as much or eat as well as you do, but are skinnier.

Here is one possible explanation:

This came from a New Yorker series, "Cyclist Hand Signals and Their Meanings," by David Ferrier.

I have to admit that I never worked an unpaid internship.  But I have worked for very little money and, like the cyclist in the illustration, survived on food not bought in my local bodega!