A Crash On The Island

If I ever go to the Upper Great Lakes region, I definitely would want to spend time on Mackinac Island. Situated between Michigan’s Upper and Lower Peninsulas, Mackinac is car-free. So how do people get around?  They walk, ride horses—and pedal. Oh, and eBikes are allowed only for people with disabilities—and the kinds of eBikes allowed on the island are limited.

If it all sounds idyllic and a paradise for cyclists, well, by all accounts it is. But even there one can face hazards while pedaling the well-kept streets. 

On Wednesday afternoon, a 77-year old woman from the Detroit area was enjoying a westbound ride along the island’s Main Street when she collided with a horse-drawn carriage traveling in the opposite direction.

She was taken to a nearby hospital where she later died from her injuries.

I feel bad for the lady and her loved ones. But I, as a New Yorker, have to wonder whether such mishaps occur in or around Central Park: to my knowledge, the only part of the city where horse-drawn carriages operate.

Riding After Ernesto

 Yesterday’s weather reflected May more than August: a high temperature of 24C (75F) and cumulus clouds drifting across a sun-filled sky. It followed a couple of days with similar conditions:  After the heavy rains of last weekend, could it have been a “gift” from Hurricane Ernesto.

During my ride, I saw other reminders of his visit. I cycled down to Rockaway Beach and east along the south shore of Queens and Nassau County to Point Lookout. Swimming was prohibited in all of the beaches I passed—and the ones I saw on my ride ride back, which I continued along the coast to Jacob Riis Park, Sheepshead Bay, Coney Island and the Verrazano-Narrows promenade before turning “inland” where Bay Ridge meets Sunset Park and pedaling through Brooklyn and Queens back to the Bronx.

One interesting phenomenon about the aftermath of a hurricane is its effect on tides. After a storm passes, the water’s calm surface may hide a strong undercurrent—hence the swimming ban.  It also can lead not only to strong high tides but, almost counterintuitively, cause the tide to recede even further than it normally does, as I saw at Point Lookout.  

Someone—a resident, I believe—remarked that on one of the most beautiful days, weather-wise, he’d experienced, he’d “never seen the tide so far out.”

Oh, and I should mention another reminder that a strong storm had passed:  It seemed that no matter which way I pedaled, a strong wind blew at my back or face.  I didn’t mind:  Even when I fought it, the wind seemed to make the day even more beautiful.

Oh, and by my calculations, I did a bit more than a “century” in miles (about 105, or 169 kilometers). Does that mean I’ve extended my “midlife” just a bit more.

Did Drillium Hit A “Wall?”

 If you are a cyclist in, ahem, late midlife, you remember the “drillium” craze of the 1970s and early 1980s. Some component manufacturers offered “holey” stuff—usually chainrings (which sometimes looked quite nice, especially if they were black and the holes were silver) and other non-weight bearing parts. Most manufacturers, however, advised against customers drilling at home: They claimed that their parts were already as light as they could be without compromising safety.

The “drillium” craze also included fluting and slotting parts like brake levers, stems and seatposts.  Then there is this Zeus crankset, which I recently saw on Craigslist:

During the time this crankset was made, one of the ways Zeus tried to appeal to racers and weight weenies was by offering stuff that was “lighter than Campy.” (They were one of the first manufacturers to use titanium.) To me, this crankset represents the heights or depths, depending on your point of view, of “drillium,” just as some listeners will say that Pink Floyd’s “The Wall,” which came out at around the same time, highlights the best or worst things about progressive rock.