I Haven't Gone Away

I have not met most of you, but I have missed you.

Perhaps a week is not a long time, in the scheme of things, not to post on a blog.  But, considering that I've posted nearly daily for most of the past dozen years, it seems like an eternity.

This year has been, at once, utterly routine and strange, so far.  According to the weather forecasters and climatologists, this has been one of the mildest winters on record.  And we've had no snow of any consequence.  Yet this has been, probably, the worst winter for my health, both physical and mental.  If nothing else, that lends credence to what I've long believed:  Moving to Florida, or any place that doesn't have seasons as we have (actually, have had) them in this part of the world probably won't help me in my old age, whenever I reach, or admit that I've reached, it.

Anyway, I have been afflicted with what seems to be a "rebound" of the respiratory infection* that struck me at or after the end of my Paris trip last month.  When "catching up" with a friendly neighbor I hadn't seen in months, I mentioned it. "Maybe you didn't want to come back."

"Actually, I didn't.  Things are so crazy here."

She nodded.  "I know.  We're lucky to be here," she said, referring to New York. "But I don't know how much longer it will be before the rest of the country, and here, is like the place I left":  a state that, while it has a somewhat sane governor, has a legislator every bit as maniacally antithetical to LGBTQ equality, bodily autonomy and anything else I regard as a basic human value.

I mentioned my illness, in its onset and recurrence.  "I think you really didn't want to come back," she said.

I nodded.

"You should have requested asylum."

My eyes widened. "I would have. But how?"

"Well, look at all of the crazy people who've been elected.  They're a danger to your life."

"Yes.  I get more and more scared every day."

She took a long look at me.  Her dog sniffed around my ankles and clambered up my leg.  I stroked his ecru curls.

"I don't blame you."

"Since I came back, I don't feel as if I've been home--except for when I write and ride my bike."  And, I added, my illness has sapped me of the energy to do either.

The good news is that I finally did some riding this past weekend.  More about that later.

*--I have been reluctant to talk about it with anybody because, these days, if you're not well for more than two days in a row, too many people are quick to assume that it's COVID--which my doctor assures me that it isn't.  Not that having COVID is a marker of one's character (My vaccines are all up to date, BTW).  I just get tired of, not only the assumptions, but the gaslighting and irrelevant "advice" (thinly-disguised admonitions) that too often accompany them.

Because We Take Up "Too Much Space"

 "You take up too much space."

I admit that I don't have the body of a supermodel or some triathletes.  But the driver who bellowed that complaint wasn't referring to my physique.  Rather, he was referring to a collective "you" of me and and fellow cyclists.  He believed we were "taking" space from "his" street.

That charge has been leveled against us in other contexts. It's used as an excuse for not letting us bring our bikes into business establishments or other buildings.  It's also a rationale for charging us exorbitant fees to bring our bikes onto trains and planes.

And, apparently, ferries.

Never mind that said vessels--specifically, the ones operated by Brittany Ferries--carry cars and trucks.  The company operates commuter and cruise ferries between its French homebase and the UK, Ireland and Spain.  

Anyway, that was the excuse BF gave for wanting to charge 75 GBP to allow Lee Craigie's mountain bike to accompany her from Portsmouth, England to Santander, Spain.  At that price, "can we expect a valet service," the former pro mountain biker wondered aloud.  Actually, she asked that question on a Tweet, which is sort of the same thing.

In response, she and her bike riding chums--who would have had to pay, collectively, 230 GBP--came up with a creative solution:

This was our workaround @BrittanyFerries wanting to charge us £230 to wheel our bikes on board! Our thanks to all the wonderful staff who thought we were funny and weird rather than annoying. Next stop Ainsa… #NoFlyWinterMigration pic.twitter.com/XhnI6hjlrI

— lee craigie (@leecraigie_) February 8, 2023

They brought bike bags with them, disassembled their machines and carried them aboard as if they were any other passenger carting a piece of luggage.  

For me, that begs more than a few questions.  One is this:  If they'd brought their bikes in a car and an employee spotted them, would they have been charged that 230 GBP for the "space" they took up?

Riding Thunder To Reach The Un-Housed

Years ago, I rode the front of a tandem bike, with a blind woman in the rear, on a ride co-sponsored by Lighthouse.

Sometimes I envision a fleet of tandems in a local Lighthouse chapter or some regional office or warehouse.  I also think about the ways different social-service organizations could use bicycles.

Such organizations might include ones that provide services and outreach to un-housed people.  A fellow named Mark Sniff in Little Rock, Arkansas is living proof that the great minds think alike. (LOL)

He is a case manager with the Ouachita Youth Center, a division of Little Rock nonprofit Ouachita Children, Youth and Family Services.  Once or twice a week, he delivers items like socks, blankets, first-aid kits and backpacks to people in the city's homeless encampments.  He often makes his deliveries on his Breezer Thunder mountain bike, "especially when the weather is nice."

One advantage to his bike of choice, he says, is that it can "handle everything from road to gravel to single track."  That is important, he says, because sometimes those camps are "difficult to get to," especially in a van or other motor vehicle.  He uses bags attached to a rear rack (which I suspect are panniers) and, when he needs more capacity, carries a backpack.

He says he's a "middleman" that connects un-housed people, especially the young, to services and facilities.  Being on a bike facilitates face-to-face connections, which builds trust.  Those facilities include the Drop-In, a space for people under 24 years old who are un-housed or in unstable housing. "People can come in, take a shower, and do laundry and take care of some of those basic needs," Sniff explains.

Many police departments maintain a fleet of bicycles for patrols that go into places that are difficult to reach by car.  Perhaps more social service agencies, especially those who serve the un-housed, could do the same, with folks like Mark Sniff leading the way. He is living proof of something I've said in earlier posts:  the bicycle can be one of the most effective tools for social mobility--and justice.