In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
As I've mentioned, I worked on and off in bike shops from the mid-1970s until the mid-1990s. In one of those shops, I came across a bottom bracket lock ring tool from Hozan. Like other tools the Japanese company manufactured at the time, it looked sturdy and functional, if not as refined as its Campagnolo or even Park Tool counterparts.
But it wasn't the finish or design that I remember. Rather, it was the package.
It's easy to dismiss "Rock" as a simple typo. But there are still Americans who mock the Japanese for their difficulty in pronouncing the "L" sound which, as I understand, doesn't exist in Japanese. So I wondered whether the importer or whoever packaged the wrench was upset that some "Rittre Reague" kids from the Land of the Rising Son beat his son's baseball team in a tournament.
Six years ago, Paris drained its Canal Saint-Martin to clean it, as the city does every fifteen years or so. Although the canal now bisects fashionable streets with chic cafes and shops, it was once bisected a rather gritty working-class area. But, perhaps to no-one's surprise, the most commonly-found objects found in every canal-draining were wine bottles.
And the second-most common? Bicycles. The only difference is that in the most recent cleaning, many of the bikes came from Velib, the City of Light's share program.
Bicycle uncovered during most recent draining of the Canal Saint-Martin. Photo by Yoan Valat for EPA.
The company that ran Rome's bike-share program abruptly ended its contract because so many of the bikes ended up in the Tiber. Not exactly what Remus and Romulus had in mind, is it?
Amsterdam has had to resort to "fietsen vissen"--bicycle fishing--because bikes were piled so high in the city's canals that they scraped the flat-bottomed boats. At one time, freelance scavengers picked them up on poles and sold them for scrap. In the 1960's, the city's water agency assumed responsibility for the "harvest." Now a corps of municipal workers trawl for the submerged bikes on boats equipped with cranes attached to hydraulic claw grapples. The bikes are hauled to scrapyards for recycling where, according to urban legend, they become beer cans. (Think about that the next time you grab a Heineken or Amstel!)
The phenomenon of bikes "sleeping with the fishes" (I grew up in a Mafia neighborhood. Gotta problem widdat?) isn't limited to European cities. In Tokyo, officials decided to drain a large pond in the middle of Inokashira Park to rid it of a non-native species of fish that was causing environmental damage. Their work uncovered another species that wasn't native to the pond: bicycles. And, in February 2019, a Citibike appeared--covered with barnacles and blisters--appeared overnight in an Upper West Side docking station. A Hudson River conservancy group expert estimated that evidence--including "oysters on the handlebars" (Upper West Siders pay good money for such things!)--indicated that the machine met its fate in the Hudson the pervious August, or possibly June.
Jody Rosen has just written an article on this phenomenon for the Guardian. It speculates on some of the reasons why so many bikes end up in waterways. Some are dumped when by fleeing criminals--who are as likely as not to have stolen the bike they're drowning. Others are tossed or accidentally ridden into the water by drunken revelers. (Could recycling be contributing, if unintentionally, to bikes ending up in Amsterdam's canals?) And there are a few instances of folks who "ended it all" by riding into murky waters, as one woman did after handcuffing herself to her machine.
But, as Rosen points out, a bicycle--especially one whose owner is unknown or a corporate entity--is an easy target for people taking out their frustrations. I suspect that at least a few share bikes were tossed into canals, rivers, lakes and other bodies of water by folks--more than likely, young--who feel lost, alienated, abandoned or simply ignored by their societies, cultures or institutions that control their lives, and over which they feel they have no control.
As a lifelong cyclist, I cannot imagine myself tossing a bike that did nothing wrong to me into the water. And, as an environmentally-conscious person, I cannot condone throwing anything into a body of water that its native species can't eat. But, as we've seen, these days, where there are bikes, there are e-bikes. That, unfortunately, includes waterways, where e-bikes and mopeds are even more of a hazard because of the rare metals and chemicals used in batteries and other components.
So, if you have a bike, e-bike, moped or scooter you want to get rid of, sell it or donate it. But please don't follow the advice of a Talking Heads song!
Over the years, I have cycled through Jersey City many times. On other occasions, I've also ridden there for some purpose, like work or a show, concert or other event.
But I've never ridden to Jersey City "just because." I have long felt that it is one of the most bike-unfriendly places in the New York Metropolitan Area. For one thing, the few bike lanes are even less practical and safe than even the worst ones I've seen in New York City. One begins near Journal Square and winds up Bergen Avenue, one of the city's major north-south thoroughfares, before ending abruptly. Along the way, it goes from being a two-way to a one-way lane.
In most of New York City, if the bike lane is as useless or impractical as the one I've described, I'll just take regular streets. As I've ridden them for decades, I am familiar with traffic patterns and drivers' habits. Plus, even in the oldest and most remote sections of the city, the streets are usually wide enough to give me at least some room to maneuver through traffic or parked cars.
The option I've described is less available in Jersey City. The streets are narrower and, I believe, even more congested, as people depend more on motor vehicles, than in my hometown.
While I don't think the drivers are necessarily more hostile toward cyclists than they are anyplace else. Rather, I suspect that they are less bike-conscious as, for one thing, there are fewer cyclists and less of a bike culture than there is in some New York City neighborhoods or other locales in the Tri-State Area. Also, being a place where people drive more than they do in the Big Apple, drivers are still imbued with the old attitude that drivers have the primary right to the road: Pedestrians and cyclists are supposed to defer to them. If someone struck by a driver while walking or pedaling, someone is likely to ask what that cyclist or pedestrian was doing on that street.
But not even the least bike-conscious or bike-friendly person is ready to excuse what Amy De Gise did last Tuesday. Around 8 am, she was driving through an intersection of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard--at first glance, over the speed limit--when she struck cyclist Andrew Black with her Nissan Rouge.
She had the green light. Black said he thought he had it. Whether he inadvertently or deliberately rode against the light, just about everyone agrees that what she did--or, more precisely, didn't do--next was inexcusable.
Nearly two years ago, a driver "doored" me near the Belmont race track. To her credit, the driver stayed with me as a passerby--an African American man who was probably around my age--ran to the nearby drugstore, picked up bandages and disinfectants--and treated me until the ambulance arrived. (I wish I could find out who that man was: I definitely owe him!) And she cooperated with law enforcement, which made it easy for me to deal with her insurer (Geico) in paying for the resulting costs.
Ms. De Gise did not extend similar courtesies to Mr. Black. She didn't slow down, let alone stop, to check up on him. Fortunately, he wasn't seriously injured: He got up and continued riding. Still, everyone who's commented on the situation agrees that even if he rode through a red light, there was no excuse for what Ms. De Gise what any interpretation of the law would describe as "leaving the scene of an accident."
Amy De Gise strikes Andrew Black at 1:01 of this video.
The cynic in me has two views of her. One is that she is a common-variety "Karen." The other, though, is that she was acting out of another kind of entitlement: She is a council member in a city and state long known for political corruption. Moreover, she is the daughter of a powerful local politician: longtime Hudson County Executive Tom De Gise.
Contrast her response to the situation to that of passerby. According to the Jersey Journal, after his shoes were knocked off his feet and his mangled bicycle skidded to the curb, he gathered himself enough to stand, put on one shoe and hobble to the sidewalk where,
One woman brought him his other shoe. People from a corner preschool set down a cooler so he could sit. Cellphones were whipped out and a small group of people gathered around him to see how he was. Several vehicles stopped, at least momentarily, and bystanders peered up the block to see what the SUV was doing.
Those folks should be, at the very least, commended. I am sure everyone agrees with that. I know that everyone, from public officials to everyday citizens, who have commented on the situation also agree with this: Amy De Gise must resign. Until she does, the driver who doored me will have taken more responsibility for what she did than Ms. De Gise has for her action and inaction.
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