In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
For about three years, a bike lane has lined Crescent Street, about 10 meters from my apartment. In previous posts, I have expressed mixed-to-negative feelings about the lane: It’s not well thought-out or constructed and is now overrun with motor scooters.
Crescent Street
And, lately, there’s been building destruction and construction along Crescent. The lane is therefore blocked or is crossed by workers bearing girders. That means cyclist pedaling north on the lane has to detour onto the sidewalk—unless, of course, that’s also blocked—or squeeze between the contractors’ trucks and the southbound traffic. (Crescent is a one-way street.)
23rd Street
So, lately, I’ve been doing what I did before the lane was constructed: To reach the RFK Bridge or any other point north of my apartment, I’ve been riding 23rd Street, a one-way northbound thoroughfares that parallels Crescent.
There are moments that change history. Everyone knows some of them; others, we think we know. Then there are the ones that, while documented, are forgotten even though their significance is both deep and broad.
We've all heard the story of how Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the Castle Church door in Wittenberg, Germany five centuries ago. While almost no one doubts he actually wrote the theses--and he sent copies of them to church and political officials--the story about him hanging them on a church door is in doubt.
On the other hand, there is a video of an unknown taxi driver who, perhaps unwittingly, launched the movements for sustainable transportation and economies--and the backlash against them that has launched a culture war between drivers and cyclists, among other people.
In 1972, the unnamed livery driver was incensed that his "right" to drive wherever he wanted was "taken" from him by city officials who had the temerity to close off a street. Why would such overbearing functionaries arrogate unto themselves the authority to keep someone like him from driving down a thoroughfare paid for with his taxes?
Well, if the answer is that the driver in this story paid a larger share of his income in taxes than his counterparts in other places, it would be almost understandable. Somehow, though, I don't think that he was preoccupied with that fact. Like many drivers, he simply wanted to take the shortest, most direct and convenient, route to wherever he was going. If he were being paid per-trip rather than per-hour, his frustration would have been a bit more understandable, if not justifiable.
But I think he simply was impatient in the ways drivers often are: I guess it can be frustrating to have something that can get you somewhere quickly and with minimal effort, only to be stalled by something, animate or not, that doesn't "belong" in the roadway.
That something, in the driver's way was a set of barricades. Their purpose? To designate a "children's only" street.
Perhaps it had something to do with having children--perhaps the ones who would have been on that street--that led citizens of that city to denounce the driver and push for safer streets for pedestrians, cyclists and other non-motorized travelers.
That city was Amsterdam which, in 1972, was as choked with auto traffic as many other European capitals. Now, of course, it's known as one of the world's most bike- and pedestrian-friendly cities, and has led the way--along with cities like Copenhagen--in developing walkable, cycleable city centers.
That taxi driver may never be as famous for pulling down barricades as Martin Luther was for (allegedly) hanging up what might have been the world's first viral message. He did, however, ignite a culture war that has been largely won by those he fought against. Such a story gives me hope because in more car-centric places, the reactionaries (who abound in, but are not limited to, conservative political factions) are riling up their constituents against an imagined "war on cars" from the borough of Queens, NYC (where I live) to Queenborough, UK and Queensland, Australia.
We are a nation of drivers.
Most of us use a car every day and, for many, life would be difficult without their car.
But too often, drivers feel under attack.
That changes today with a long-term plan to improve drivers' experience on the road.
Those would-be defenders of the diesel tend to be older, while those who don't want to spend three hours of their day driving to work and parking tend to be younger, in chronology and, like yours truly, in spirit---even if I am in, ahem, midlife!
Today I am asserting my right as an Italian American to celebrate Indigenous People’s Day.
I take that back: I am executing my duty to so observe this day.
You see, I come from a group of people that gave the world Michelangelo, Leonardo, Dante, Bocaccio and Galileo. And Armani. And Versace. And Sophia Loren. And Paola Pezzo. And Fausto Coppi. Oh, and Campagnolo.
So how did a guy who got lost become a symbol of Italian pride? I mean, I get lost all the time and no one has ever celebrated Justine Valinotti Day.
So, in keeping with the spirit of this day, and blog, I will leave you with this image of Alexis Vazquez and their partner Nanette Bayale. Two years ago, after participating in Pedalpalooza, they organized an Indigenous/Native Peoples Ride:
