Coloring

 Sometimes bicycle safety really is a matter of covering your rear end.

Instagram post by Manish Kamdar

 

A Winning Look?

A politician fears that his campaign will suffer if he doesn't wear a bicycle helmet.

No, that's not an April Fool's joke.  A local assembly member who wants a seat in the assembly is visiting his constituents in his small district.  Its narrow streets and alleyways are more navigable on two wheels than four.

By now, you may have realized that the politician is not running for office in the United States.  In Japan, it's not unusual to solicit votes, at least in local elections, on a bicycle.  In fact, it's not unusual, from what I understand, to go anywhere by bicycle in the Land of the Rising Sun.  But, until recently, wearing helmets isn't the norm that it is in much of North America.

The headgear situation is about to change, however,  in the Pacific nation.  Today a new rule saying that cyclists should try to wear a helmet goes into effect. 

Note the way I described the new rule.  It's been said that Italians treat laws as suggestions, but Japanese people don't need laws because they feel such a sense of duty to authority.  So, while the rule doesn't prescribe penalties for not wearing helmets, it's expected that people--especially public figures--will comply.

So, the fellow campaigning for a campaign seat knows that if he shows up bareheaded on a bicycle, he will not be setting a good example.  On the other hand, if he wears a helmet and other candidates don't, his will arrive with his hair a mess while other candidates are well-coiffed.  

Oh, and when he put on his helmet, his kids laughed at him.  But, in such a duty-bound country with such strong family ties, I imagine they would vote for him anyway.

Delivering Hate And A Death Threat

Yesterday afternoon, I hopped onto Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bicycle, and pedaled with no particular destination in mind.  I simply wanted to spend an hour or two riding before the rain came and I had to get back to work.

After zigging, zagging and looping through "Hipster Hook" and eastward to the closest thing this city has to a stetl--the Hasidic enclave in Williamsburg--I found myself riding down the unprotected bike lane on the left side of Tompkins Avenue, a one-way southbound street in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood.  Although the lane is nothing more than lines painted on pavement, I'd had no issues during previous rides along its length.  In fact, I rather enjoyed it because it passes a park and some of the most colorfully-decorated stores and cafes you'll see in this city.  

Note my use of the past tense.  It doesn't mean I'll never go back; it means only that the string of pleasurable rides was broken.

Between Madison Street and Putnam Avenue, a USPS truck parked in the lane, on the left side of Tompkins, probably to make a delivery.  Those trucks often take up more than the width of a lane so, perhaps not surprisingly, there was a traffic "bottleneck."  In that queue was another USPS truck, just a couple of vehicles behind me to my right.  The driver seemed to lean on her horn as she shouted out the window--at me, it turned out, even though I waited behind the parked truck so she could pass.

Well, as they say, no good deed goes unpunished.  She veered her truck toward me and yelled racist, "Fuckin' white tranny bitch!"  (Hey, she scored a trifecta:  racism, sexism and transphobia, all in one!)  At the next intersection--Jefferson Avenue--she pulled over to retrieve mail from a box.  I stopped and yelled, "What was that all about?"

"Mind your own fuckin' business."

"I am.  When someone tries to kill me, it's my business."

"Fuck you, white tranny bitch!".

Since USPS trucks don't have license plates, I snapped this photo of the truck number.  Then I took a photo of her, from the side, as she came out of the truck.  Proud of herself, she posed for me.

I have filed complaints with the USPS and the local NYPD Precinct.