It Doesn't Make Sense, And I'm Not Surprised

 If something is logical, it doesn't necessarily make sense.

I don't remember where I read, or from whom I heard, that.  But it has helped me to understand some strange and unusual developments--and to feel equal parts of shock and disgust but absolutely no surprise.

One such development is this:

The GMC Hummer EV All-Wheel-Drive e-bike is the Frankenstinian offspring of the maker of the world's most over-the-top motor vehicle and Recon Power Bikes.  

Before I say anything else, I should point out that a bicycle cannot be all-wheel-drive.  "All" refers to entities of three or more; then again, I guess "both-wheel-drive" doesn't have the same macho appeal.  

Now that I've done my writer/English teacher duty, I want to explain how this contraption makes perfect sense.  I will start by laying out an axiom that comes from years of observation:  The fancier the van or pickup truck, the less likely it is to be used for any sort of work.  So those souped-up diesel-powered rigs with the most unnecessary  accessories and flashy (or garish) paint jobs are, more than likely, being driven by some 20-year-old (whether chronologically or emotionally) dude who's overcompensating for how little he contributes to society and where he's lacking in his body, if you know what I mean, as well as his mind.

The ridership of fat-tire electric bikes is very similar to the drivership of those begirded, bejeweled (well, at least it's jewelry for the ones who drive them) behemoths.  By straddling a two-wheeled vehicle that has pedals, even if they're used only to start the engine, riders of those machines think they're projecting an image of hard work and toughness.  Put them on a bike without a motor and even I, at my age, could run rings around most of them.

Anyway, if a Hummer driver is going to bring a bicycle with him, I don't think it would be a light, airy road machine or even a high-end mountain bike.  Such bikes simply won't do for someone who's trying to compensate for, well, all sorts of things.  If he's going from four wheels to two, he simply cannot give up that feeling of invincibility he gets from the roar of an engine and the width of his tire tracks.

So...In its way, the new Hummer eBike is completely logical, at least given its target market.  But does it make sense?  Probably not, to or for anyone not in that target market.

For Their Final Ride...

Es el segundo dia de los muertos. (It's the second Day of the Dead.) With that in mind, I bring you this:

A few years ago, my father insisted that I write a will.  Of course, I didn't want to, but I'm glad I did.  What interested me more, however, than what would happen to my, shall we say modest, wealth is what will happen to me.  To wit:  I've specified that I don't want a funeral and that I want to donate my body for medical research.

But whatever happens, my body will have to be transported.  I didn't mention that, but now I know how I want it to be brought from wherever to whichever research facility.  For that, I have Isabelle Plumereau to thank.

She runs "The Sky and the Earth," a small funeral home in Paris.  Her brainchild is the "corbicyclette."  The name says it all:  It's a portmanteau of "corbillard" and "bicyclette," the French words for "hearse" and "bicycle."  Essentially, it's a cargo bicycle designed to carry full-size coffins.  

Plumereau says she is trying to bring environmentally sustainable practices to the funeral industry.  She also had, however, other motivations when she created her vehicle for the "final journey."  For one thing, it "allows for a slow, silent, quiet procession, to the rhythm of the steps of the people who walk behind and who make the procession."

That comment reminded me of a conversation with a neighbor who's studying to be a funeral director.  As he described some aspects of the job, I realized why they're called "directors:"  a funeral is as much a performance and a production as anything staged in the Globe or on Broadway--or done in the classroom.  Plumereau seems to understand that; if anything, from the comment I quoted, I'd liken her to a choreographer.

Another motivation for her was the aesthetics of the vehicle itself.  "I am as attached to the form as I am to the content," she explained.  "For me, it is very important to accompany the families by proposing to put meaning in the ceremony, but also by proposing to put beauty.  Because beauty is also what will bring comfort."

I wonder whether she feels the way I do about typical funeral hearses:  They disturb me, not only because they carry dead people, but because they're just so ostentatiously intimidating in their appearance.

  

While Isabelle Plumereau's "corbicyclette" is the first of its kind in France; it's not the first in the world:  A few similar bicycle-hearses exist in Denmark and the United States.  But a funeral home, however small, using such a vehicle in a city as prominent as Paris--and in a country like France which, like other European countries, has an aging population--may well influence others, in her own city and country and others.

Oh, by the way, the corbicyclette has an electric assist to help its operator up hills.  Still, I have to give Ms. Plumereau and anyone else using such a vehicle "props." (I was going to say that I'd be "eternally grateful" but that's, well, somewhere I felt I couldn't go if I'm going to continue calling this blog "Midlife Cycling!")

 

If We Ride, We're Not Dead

 Today is Dia de los Muertos--the Day of the Dead.  Actually, it's the first of two Dias de los Muertos. Like most Americans, I assumed it was simply today, the day after Halloween, which I knew as "All Saints' Day" when I was growing up.  But, as it turns out, today's commemoration is for deceased children; tomorrow is for departed adults.

As a kid, I always thought it was weird to have a solemn "All Saints' Day"--when we were supposed to attend Mass (I served, as an altar boy, in two ASD masses)--the day after Trick or Treating. Perhaps that was a way of inculcating us with Catholic Guilt (TM): You pay for pleasure with pain, or at least drudgery.

Interestingly, Dia de los Muertos, at least as it's celebrated in Mexico and Mexican immigrant communities, bears more resemblance to our Halloween than to a somber church holiday.  Notice that I used the word "celebrated."  That's exactly the point of the costumes and festivities: to celebrate the lives of the departed.

I know that there are organized bike rides with cyclists in costume. I can't go to one of those, but I will ride later today with some old riding buddies.

  

Yes, they're old bike riders. Me, I'm Midlife Cycling! I go wherever the journey takes me.

(Photos taken at Fort Totten, 30 October 20222)