The End—Or Just Change?

 

The past few days have been hectic.  It’s “crunch time” at work and I’ve had to attend to a few things that might lead to a change in my life. Whether that will be good or bad, or just change, I don’t know.

I did manage to squeeze in a late-afternoon ride to and from Fort Totten the other day.  I rode Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, as I often do on short rides. On my way home, I stopped to enjoy the end-of-day light from the Malcolm X Promenade, which rims mFlushing Bay from LaGuardia Airport.

As much as I enjoyed the spectacle, upon looking at a photo I took, I can’t help but to wonder whether it portends what will come from the change, should it come to pass.

Off The Rails

 When I had a mountain bike with suspension, I thought I could ride over anything.

That included railroad tracks. I assumed they were abandoned…until I heard a low rumble, clackety-clack and blaring horn.

It’s a good thing my reflexes were great. (I was younger!)

Even with suspension, riding those tracks was rough. Perhaps this is what I needed:

Destroying What They “Didn’t See”

At the end of my block—where Crescent Street meets Broadway in Astoria, Queens—there is a row of on-street bike racks.

Like other such racks in New York and a few other cities, it’s at the end of a parking lane that’s supposed to serve as a “barrier” between the bike and traffic lane.  Too often, though, drivers turn it into a passing lane.  On one occasion, a ride-share driver barged into the Crescent Street lane a couple of SUV lengths behind me, blaring his horn and his mouth. I have seen other incidents like it.

That is the reason I don’t use those racks:

I don’t know whether the driver who “taco’ed” that rear wheel and frame did so deliberately. If they did and were caught, I can imagine their defense: “I didn’t see it!”

That is what a driver in Portland claimed after causing this:

That bike was its owner’s sole means of transportation. Worse yet, she—Cole—witnessed its destruction from across the street. In talking to the driver who made the claim she deemed “dubious,” she noticed  that his SUV, which took out a whole row of bikes in addition to hers, had no license plates. She got his name and contact information and contacted the police who, not surprisingly, didn’t seem interested.

She would appreciate monetary help in buying a new bike. I have to wonder whether the owner of the wrecked bike at the end of my block could replace it. I don’t have to wonder, however, about this: whether other bikes have met untimely ends in supposedly “safe” bike parking corrals.

If you want to contribute to Cole’s next bike, you could send to her CashApp account—$colesodcash—or to Jonathan Maus, the etditor and publisher of Bike Portland, who will forward it to her.

(The first two photos are mine. The others are from Bike Portland.)