One Person’s Trash Is Another Person’s Lifeline

 If one were to ask most Americans which possessions they most fear losing, their cars would be high on their lists.  Especially in areas outside city cores, away from mass transportation networks, people depend on their automobiles to get to work or school and for many everyday tasks.

For people who don’t own or drive cars—whether by choice or circumstances—bicycles can be their connection to the rest of the world.  I am one such person.  Others include a club in which I hope not to become a member:  people who don’t have housing. 

In New York, where I live, and in other cities, one often sees battered, grimy and rusty machines among tents, sleeping bags, shopping carts, boxes and shipping crates sprawled under bridge and highway underpasses, train trestles and in any public space with something spread, hanging or standing over it that can provide at least a partial shield from rain and other elements. Because those spaces are often squalid, through no fault of their inhabitants (Americans never have been very good at taking care of public spaces), whatever ends up in them—including their inhabitants’ possessions and the inhabitants themselves—are seen as disposable.

At least, that seems to be the attitude (mis)guiding some City of San Diego officials.  They, who fancy themselves the finest of the self-proclaimed “America’s Finest City,” went into encampments (Would they enter someone’s house or apartment without knocking on the door or ringing the bell?) and tossed unhoused people’s bikes into garbage trucks.

As activist Jacob Mandel pointed out, “For unhoused people, a bicycle can be a lifeline, providing low-cost/free transportation to employment that could break the cycle of poverty.”

He added, “The city is destroying those lifetimes.” Not to mention that if anyone else did what those officials did, it would be considered theft.

The @cityofsandiego throwing away bikes again. pic.twitter.com/AevAm0RDm9

— Michael McConnell (@HomelessnessSD) May 1, 2023

May Day!

 Today, the first of May, is commonly known as “May Day.”  In some countries, it’s the equivalent of Labor Day (which is celebrated on the first Monday of September in the US).  In others, it’s a celebration of Spring, marked by gifts and displays of flowers.

So how did the name of this day—“May Day”—become a distress call?  Apparently, in the early days of aviation, French was the lingua Franca, so the call for help was “M’aide!,” which was anglicized into the cry we hear today.

After a weekend of nonstop rain, it’s a beautiful morning here in New York. If I believed that the weather were decided by an all-seeing being, I’d say that the blue skies are a response to our “May Day!” cries.  Whatever the cause of today’s conditions, I’m  going to take a long route on my ride to work.

May The Best Creature Win

During my bicycle tour from France into Spain and back, I pedaled up some of the steepest climbs I’ve encountered.  As I pumped and grunted my way up a pass that crossed the border, some mountain goats seemed to line up for the spectacle.  I couldn’t help but to think they were chuckling, or even laughing, to themselves: “That human thinks he’s* all that.  We climb these mountains every day—and we don’t have low gears!”

I couldn’t have blamed them.  After all, compared to many other species, we’re not very strong, fast, agile, flexible or durable.  

If they learned how to ride bikes, would goats—or horses, cows or other creatures—beat us in a race? Or ride for longer?