Not Enough To Send Me Back To Ayn Rand, But...

 Once upon a time, I was (or at least fancied myself) a true-blue Libertarian.  For me, the works of Ayn Rand, in spite of my misgivings about her as a writer, were as foundational as the Bible is for fundamentalist preachers.

While my politics, these days, align more with those of Elizabeth Warren than anyone else I can think of, I still think that government--and, urban planners in particular--can't solve everything. 

One of the problems is that planners don't always understand what they're planning as well as they think they do.  This is particularly true when they conceive and build "bicycle infrastructure."  Sometimes I wonder whether those planners have been on bicycles since they were kids, if ever.

That phenomenon, apparently, isn't limited to planners in the US.  According to one cyclist in England, boatloads of money were spent on an indoor bicycle parking facility that is no safer than streetside parking.

The Battersea Power Station bike parking facility, according to Jim Harris is accessible only by stairs or elevator.  As unpromising as that is, it's not the worst thing about the parking station.  There's a sign instructing users to  press a button to open a door. But there's no button and...the door is open. 

Once Jim entered, he found bike racks that were worse than useless.  Some can't be used if the bike has fenders, as many commuters' bikes--especially in England--have.  Worse yet, on some racks, only a wheel, but not the frame, can be locked. (I don't know how many wheels I've seen locked to lamp- and sign-posts.) 

There are also double-decker racks--that can't be pulled down. If you can't reach the upper level--or can't lift your bike for whatever reason--you have "get on your hands and knees" to use the lower racks.  And, Jim warns, "watch your head" because there are sharp edges on the upper racks.

So, he sums up,  seven billion (!) pounds gets you "the biggest, fanciest, least easy to access, most ill-conceived bike storage facility in London."

If that makes you wish Ron Paul had been elected Preseident, I understand.  I'm not ready to go back to being a Libertarian, but spending money on bad infrastructure helps anyone or makes anyone happy.  If anything, it upsets cyclists like me or Jim who see how useless it is--and it creates anger and resentment in others who pay taxes.

8/ So what £7 billion+ gets you is the biggest, fanciest, least easy to access, most ill-conceived bike storage facility in London.

Trebles all round! pic.twitter.com/lgn1iH267V

— Jim Harris is at work (@jimoutoffaf) December 24, 2022

The Biggest Bicycle Museum: Small Enough To Need Help

 It's a "small" museum.  But it's the biggest of its kind.

I'll trust the Pittsburgh Gazette's characterization of Bicycle Haven as a "small" museum.  I haven't seen it--or Pittsburgh, for that matter--but I'm sure that the Smithsonian, British and Metropolitan Museums and the Louvre--all of which I have seen--dwarf it.  Having seen a few other bicycle museums, I don't doubt that it's the largest of its kind.

Now Bicycle Haven is looking for donations.  That's nothing new for museums, or any other institutions that don't have major donors or endowments.  There is, however, a special urgency to BH's latest appeal for donations:  On Christmas Eve, a pipe froze, burst and caused $100,000 in damage.

To some of the big museums, especially those funded by wealthy private donors, that might seem like petty cash.  But for BH, it's like losing a few months' salary when the rent is due.  It's the creation of Craig Morrow, who built its collection over two decades before opening the museum in 2011.  That collection included everything from the extremely rare Bowden Spacelander, the first fiberglass bike (and one of the few ever made), in addition to "boneshakers."

As I understand, Pittsburgh punches well above its weight when it comes to its museums.  I certainly would make a point of visiting everything from the Carnegie to BH if I ever find myself in the "Steel City."  But there are, I am sure, people who go to Pittsburgh to see Bicycle Haven, or who visit it, but not the other museums, when in Pittsburgh.  As a proud New Yorker, I give all due respect--which is often ample--to cities like Pittsburgh for having museums like Bicycle Haven that would be considered "niche" or "cult" in other cities or by people who are not generally interested in the museum's focus.

My love of cycling is not the only reason, however, why I would visit Bicycle Haven.  I guess that even though I'm in, ahem, in the middle of my life, I am as much a sucker as any Millenial for the story behind something--at least, in the case of an institution like Bicycle Haven.  It is, after all, a reminder of how most museums, "major" or niche, begin:  with the collection of someone with a passion for whatever ends up in the display cases, or on the pedestals, that line said museum's corridors.

A Gap At The End Of The Day, The Beginning Of The Year

How did you begin your New Year?

How did I begin mine?  Not by asking annoying rhetorical questions.  Seriously, I stayed awake for the Times Square ball drop and the fireworks that followed. I didn't drink, sing or dance or do anything scandalous. (Trust me, my singing and dancing are scandalous!)  Still, I slept late, talked to friends and family on the phone and went for a late day ride.

On the Long Island City waterfront, a few meters from the iconic Pepsi-Cola sign, people walked alone, with each other and their dogs.  I stopped for one utterly adorable three-year-old spaniel-poodle mix who caught my glance.  That led to a conversation with their humans.  Actually, one of said humans was taking care of the pooch for her parents.  She and her partner looked like they were taking good care of each other. 

We watched the sunset over Manhattan.  What I captured in the photos isn't exactly "Manhattan-henge."  The light I saw caught my attention, however, because it struck me, and the two women I met, how unusual it is to see a gap in the Manhattan skyline--or, for that matter, in the Long Island City colony of towers behind us.  I recalled, for them, when LIC was an industrial area (part of it still is) and blue-collar workers lived with their families in the small row houses that are disappearing from the neighborhood.

Now, I know that nobody comes to New York to see a gap: If that's what you want, you go to the Grand Canyon.  I wonder whether we will be the last people to see the sun descend into an urban canyon, as it seems that developers are filling every vacant space they find. I know this city is "always changing," but I don't recall any other time like the one I'm witnessing.

Then again, according to Heraclitus, the only constant is change.  Perhaps it is the only certainty for the coming year, or any other.