Happy Mother’s Day

 Some would argue that I have never been a mother because I have never had human children.  I wouldn’t argue with them.

Others, mainly people who have pets, would say that I am a mama, or at least a parent, to Marlee—and that I was one to Max, Charlie II*, Candice, Charlie I, Caterina and Sara*. I often refer to the six cats and one dog I’ve housed, fed and loved as my children or “babies.”

There is at least one thing, though, I couldn’t do with them that, perhaps, I could have done with a human child: ride a bicycle. Perhaps even more important, I never could have taught them how to ride one.

In any event, to all of you who are moms (Your children are always your children even after they move out—or, felines forbid, die) : Happy Mother’s Day.

Check out this image, and others, here: https://www.redbubble.com/i/art-board-print/Mother-s-Day-Bicycle-Ride-by-kilkennycat/47181892.TR477

*—Sara was a beagle-hound pup I had briefly, before any of my cats. While out for a walk, a man petted and played with her.  “My grandkids would love a dog like that.”  They played some more. “They could play with it in our backyard…”

“Your backyard?”

“Yeah, in my house in Pennsylvania.”

I let them play for a moment. “How would you like to take her?”

The man’s eyes widened. “How much do you want for her?”

“Nothing. She’ll be happier in your house and yard than in my apartment. She gets to go outside only when I get home from work.”

The following weekend, he took me and Sara to his house, where I met his grandkids. She was happy to meet them. And I was happy for her.

If You Have To Ask, “How Much?”

 In my youth (Yes, I had one of those!), I saved my pennies (OK, nickels, dimes, quarters and dollars, too!) so I could buy a Colnago.  Back then, many serious riders (and wannabes) saw it as the be-all and end-all of racing bikes. 

And, yes, I did race on mine.  How much of a difference did the Colnago make?  Well, I didn’t exactly make my fantasy come true:  My Colnago Arabesque would be the last bike (frame, actually) I’d buy.  Someone, i.e., a race team sponsor, would buy me my next bike, whether it were a Colnago or something else.

Of course, I can’t blame the bike:  I started racing later than those guys named Eddy and Jacques and Bernard. And I probably didn’t spend as much training because, you know, I had another job. For those guys, training was their job: They spent at least as much time at it as I did in my non-cycling employment.

Anyway, I am remembering how I saved my money for the Arabesque because I just learned that Sotheby’s is auctioning a Colnago.  No, not the one I rode. Is it the one Tadej Pogačar pedaled to the podium? (Ok, I was taking poetic license!) Well, almost: It’s the same model-V4Rs—but with a twist:  It’s gold-plated.

How many pennies would I have to save for that one?  Well, if I skip a few meals and museum trips and don’t buy any more bike stuff or clothes, I can afford…to go to the auction. It’s being held in Monaco. But once I get there, will I be able to afford to park my yacht?😏

The Worst Bike Lanes In America?

 What makes for bad bike lane?

Poor conception, planning and execution.  Oh, and shoddy or non-existent maintenance.

Too many “bike lanes” are nothing more than strips of asphalt or concrete delineated by stripes or arrows from the main roadway.  Some are even worse:  You wonder whether whoever designed or built them has ridden a bicycle since childhood—and whether they rode beyond their family’s yard or the local playground—or whether they’re conspiring with vehicle manufacturers and fossil fuel extractors (and other Trump campaign donors) to kill off cyclists.

I lean toward the latter after seeing Momentum Mag’s “These Could Be The Worst Bike Lanes In America.” There are the kinds of lanes I’ve ranted about in previous posts:  the ones that begin or end seemingly out of nowhere, the ones that go nowhere and those that are all but impossible to enter or exit.  Oh, but there’s worse:  lanes that merge into, or emerge out of, highway traffic and one that is sandwiched between 70 mph (115 mph) lanes of traffic, separated only by lines of white paint.

Although I’ve ridden on some doozies here in New York, none from my hometown made Momentum’s “worst” list. That lanes in Texas and Florida (which has, by far, the highest cyclist death rate in the US) are in the article is no surprise, at least to me, as I have ridden in both states. But I find it astonishing that Seattle and some supposedly bike-friendly communities in California would also have such egregiously dangerous lanes that, in some instances, are even more hazardous for cyclists than the traffic lanes.