So She Goes

 Today I am going to do something you probably hoped I wouldn't do:  Talk about an event you've surely heard about. To do that, I will invoke the Howard Cossell rule.

The event in question is, of course, the death of Queen Elizabeth II.  It was reported yesterday but, according to some rumors, she had already passed when her illness was reported and the news was withheld because of the transfer of the Prime Minister's office from Boris Johnson to Liz Truss. (I never could get away with giving a name like that to a character in a novel!)  While I don't normally truck in conspiracy theories, I think there may be something to that one--or the ones about Lady Diana's death.

Anyway, what does "the end of an era" mean, exactly?

Well, I have to say there is something to be said for someone who stays in the same job for 70 years.  Never mind that she didn't have to post her resume on Linkedin or subject herself to a committee interview on Zoom (or much of anything)—or that she got her job because of, shall we say, her connections. (A wise guy— I mean, a sage—once said, “Nepotism?  Keep it in the family!”) Even if I live as long as bicycles have existed and work until the end, I won't achieve such a milestone.

Then-Princess Elizabeth (r) with her sister Margaret, circa 1945.

And it's true that she met, probably, hundreds of world leaders.  It's fair to ask, though, how much influence she actually had on them.  On the other hand, it's also fair to ask how much influence she had on the ways the world changed during her reign.  Britain entered and left the European Union and lost colonies during that time. But she can't be blamed or credited for those events if for no other reason than, as I believe George Bernard Shaw quipped, the sun never sets on the British Empire because it never rose over it in the first place.

Some might argue that the reason why she's so important is simply that she's been the Queen through all of my life and those of most people living today. In fact, on the occasion of another anniversary of Elizabeth ascending to the throne, my mother told me that her coronation was one of the first things she and her family watched on their then-new television set. 

Her longevity might be, paradoxically, the reason why I never thought much about her.  Of course, being American and therefore never having been one of her subjects, I have an excuse.  Still, because I speak English, have a British relative, studied English Literature (yes, with a capital L) as an undergraduate, ride bicycles from one of the last traditional British builders (Mercian), and count among one of my most loyal readers an English woman who lives in Scotland,  one might expect that I'd think more about the Queen.

Oh, and  one of my favorite bands has long been Queen and I live in, yes, Queens.

So will--or should--I mourn the death of Queen Elizabeth II?  The answer to both is "yes," if only for two reasons: King Charles and Queen Camilla.

King. Fucking. Charles.   Queen. Fucking. Camilla.

Well, it's not as bad as having Trump for President, I guess.  

A Bike Lane To His Death

In earlier posts, I have lamented "bike lanes to nowhere."  They start or end without warning or don't provide safe or convenient routes to any place a cyclist--whether he or she is pedaling for transportation, recreation or training--might actually want or need to go.  Such lanes, I have argued, will do nothing to encourage people to trade four wheels and one pedal for two wheels and two pedals, even for short trips.

The worst such "lanes to nowhere" are not mere inconveniences; they are veritable deathtraps.  Such ribbons of illusory safety end by merging into traffic. The most perilous paths of all lead cyclists onto multiple lanes of cars, SUVs, trucks and other motorized vehicles traveling at high speed.  In the most dire of scenarios, there is no way for cyclists to avoid such a merge and no other way to anywhere else but the road onto which the path merges.

Although I have never seen it, I feel confident that my description fits the Longview Lake loop in Kansas City.  Longtime cyclist Athol Barnes' delight at the Loop's construction was muted because he noticed exactly the flaw I've described. As cyclists approach the intersection of SW Longview Road from the north, along View High Drive, the bike lane runs out past the intersection of East 109th Street, forcing cyclists to merge onto the road with drivers.

Charles Criniere (in cap) with his wife Megan and nine of his ten children.

He became especially worried about that merge after he encouraged his friend, Charles Criniere to start riding.  The middle-school teacher and father of 10 started by accompanying Barnes on early-morning rides during which they talked about the things that mattered to them:  family, faith, youth and eighth-grade math students. 

Criniere quickly gained cycling savvy, but Barnes' worst fears came true the Saturday before last.  Around 6:15 am, police were called to the intersection I mentioned earlier in this post.  A vehicle, which police believe to be a white Acura MDX, fled the scene.

Criniere was declared dead.  Police are looking for the driver.

In this photo, the photographer, Jeremy Van Deventer rides past a memorial for Charles Criniere.

Although he is glad the city is creating more bike lanes, Barnes also knows--and this incident confirms--what I've long known:  All else being equal, cyclists are safer on the road, and the real hazards are drivers, who aren't cognizant of, or are hostile to, cyclists and are driving bigger vehicles faster and distractedly.

I'll Bet You've Never Had A Ride Home Like This One

Ya gotta love Ukraine.  In the worst moments of its recent history--its invasion by Russia-- its citizens have been resourceful and resilient.  They  even make us smile.

Case in point:  Chichi was found wandering the streets of Kharkiv, the country's second-largest city.  It makes sense that she was disoriented:  She's a chimpanzee who escaped from the city zoo.

Now, I can understand her, or any other animal's, wanting to bolt from such confinement.  Such a desire is particularly understandable when you realize that she'd been transferred to that zoo from Feldman Park, an outdoor preserve on the war's frontlines. 

But she is no safer roaming an unfamiliar city in a warzone than any human would be.  If anything, she's in more danger, as she doesn't know her way around and doesn't speak Ukranian or Russian.

Oh, and she didn't have an umbrella.  And it started to rain.

That's when she spotted, and ran to, one of the zoo's keepers.  They embraced.  The keeper slung a yellow rain slicker over the animal--and propped her on the seat of a bicycle.

Now Chichi's ride is over and she's back in the zoo.  But even though it's more secure than Feldman Park, neither she nor the keeper are out of danger:  Several volunteers who helped to evacuate the animals have been killed during Russian attacks.

Whatever happens, I suppose Chichi won't ever forget her bike ride.