Why An E-Bike Shop Burned

 Fires know no boundaries.

People on Madison Street, in New York's Chinatown, know that all too well.  Earlier this week, a fire in an e-bike shop spread from its first-floor location to the apartments above it.  As a result, two people are dead and several others remain in the hospital.

The fire is practically an exhibit with all of the problems associated with e-bikes, specifically the lithium-ion batteries that power them and some of the shops that sell and service them.

The shop where the fire broke out had been cited earlier for violations of the city's still-weak regulations regarding e-bikes and their batteries.  A previous citation (which levied a $1600 fine) resulted from the wiring and storage of batteries.  I can understand that shop owners are trying to optimize their limited space, but in that shop, like others, stored batteries in a space in a front shed without ample room or protection from the elements.  Also, according to reports, that shop and others (as well as individual e-bike owners) often use extension chords when charging batteries, or try to charge several at once on a power strip.

Also, I suspect that the electrical wiring and outlets in that shop and building were old.  When new, they probably wouldn't have been strong enough for charging lithium-ion batteries, but after decades of use, they're fire hazards.

There's another shop just like it--on the first floor of building, with apartments above it--across the street from the one that burned. I wonder how well the people in those apartments are sleeping.

(I don't mean to make light of this tragedy.  But I realize that this is the second day in a row I've written about e-bikes.  In my next posts, I'll go back to writing about good old pedal bikes.) 

When Is It A Motorcycle?

The other day, during a ride in Queens and Brooklyn, I detoured to the Ridgewood Reservoir.  Because the loop around it is flat, I can ride around it a few time and add a few kilometers/miles to my ride without trying.  (I recently learned that the loop is 1.2 miles, or about .7 kilometers:  longer than I thought it is!) I was enjoying myself on a sunny, breezy afternoon when I made the turn near the Brooklyn side.  There, two young men on ebikes without pedal assists whipped around the curve.  One of them popped a wheelie and veered to his left-my right.  I had almost no room to maneuver:  I was well near the right edge of the lane and, even if I could have cut in front of him without colliding, I almost surely would have hit, or been hit by, the other guy on eBike, a cyclist riding in the opposite direction, or a group of people walking with a dog.

The guys on eBikes were going as fast, it seemed, as the car traffic on the nearby Jackie Robinson Parkway. Lately, I've wondered whether those bikes seem faster because I'm getting older and slower.  But that experience--and a couple of reports that have come my way--show me that those machines are indeed getting faster and because prohibitions against them on bike and pedestrian lanes and speed limits are never enforced (if indeed they exist), too many riders seem to feel no compunction about endangering other people.

Folks like David Rennie in Park City,Utah are having similar experiences to mine on bike lanes and hiking trails. In a letter to the Park Record,  he says that allowing such bikes on trails is "an accident waiting to happen" and can "see no reason why throttle-controlled e-bikes should not be treated exactly the same as a petrol-driven bike, and subject to the same licensing and use rules."

From Electric Bike Action

In another Park Record letter to the editor, Mike Miller echoed his concerns and concluded that throttle-driven bikes without pedal assists are really "motorcycles" and should be treated as such.

Voices Of My Rides

In "Sounds of Silence," Paul Simon wrote, "the words of the prophets are written the on the subway walls."

I've been riding daily and haven't been on the subway.  But I have seen, if not the words of the prophets, then at least expressions of the zeitgeist, if from different points of view.

During my Saturday ride to Point Lookout, I chanced upon this in Lido Beach:

I don't think I've seen such a large US flag anywhere else, let alone in front of a suburban house.  When I stopped to take the photo, I talked to a man walking his dog.  He said the house is "outsize for this neighborhood" and that he's seen "the flag more than the people who live there."  I quipped that I've lived in apartments smaller than that flag.

Not only is its size overwhelming:  It's placed so that in whichever direction you walk, ride or drive, you can't not see it.

As I've said in earlier posts, ostentatious displays of outsized flags--often seen on the back of "coal rollers"--seem less like expressions of patriotism and more like acts of aggression.

In contrast, during yesterday afternoon's ride down the waterfront, from my Astoria apartment to Red Hook, I saw something more inclusive on one of the last ungentrified blocks of Long Island City.

The author of that bit of graffiti, I suspect, also gave us this:

That person is not the enemy of the flag-flaunters and coal-rollers--and would surely know that I'm not, either.