If A Cyclist Falls Into A Pothole...

 A few days ago, I was riding home from one of my bread runs in the Little Italy area of the Bronx.  After stopping at one of the fruit stands in Fordham Plaza, I proceeded up Webster Avenue.  A bit more than a block north of Fordham Road, I noticed a pothole so deep that I could see, on one side, the bedrock underneath and on the other, what looked like utility pipes.

That hole was there when I first moved into the neighborhood, just over a year ago.  The one good thing I can say is that because I know it's there, I barely have to look for it in order to dodge it:  It's as if an image of it, or its location, is lodged into my mental GPS, if you will.  But I wonder whether someone who isn't familiar with that stretch of Webster has been pitched off their bike when their front wheel dropped into it.  

That idle thought led to another:  If the person's bike was damaged or destroyed--or if they were injured--could they sue the city?

I don't know what New York City regulations say, or don't say, about such a scenario.  But I imagine that some lawyer could make a case for someone being reimbursed for a damaged or destroyed bike, medical bills and lost wages.  

In Palo Alto, California--home to Stanford University and a major technology hub--Peggy Hock-McCalley is bringing such a lawsuit against the city.  Last September, Roderick McCalley, her 81-year-old husband, was riding along Park Boulevard when he fell and sustained a major head injury and neck fracture.  Two days later, he died.

Cyclists on Park Boulevard, Palo Alto.  Photo by Gennady Sheyner for Palo Alto Online.

The city claims Mr. McCalley had entered a lane closed for construction when the accident occurred.  The suit filed by his widow maintains that he fell into an unmarked open construction ditch in the asphalt. So, while I have no firsthand knowledge of the case, I can understand--especially given my near-encounter with the pothole on Webster Avenue--how he or someone else could ride into a hole or depression he couldn't have seen, or wouldn't have known to look for, as he was riding.  

Also, Ms. Hock-McCalley maintains, "There were no warning signs" which made the ditch a "hidden hazard" for "persons who use the road every day."

She is seeking more than $35,000 from the city for creating dangerous conditions, negligence and wrongful death.  Whether or not she wins, if you'll indulge me a cliché, it won't bring back her husband.  And unless Palo Alto--and other cities--are more proactive in addressing road hazards, there will be other tragedies like the one that befell Roderick McCalley.

Earth Day Obsrvsnce

 What better way to observe Earth Day (today) than a bike repair class?

A Ride From One Season To Another

 It was still April.  But I took my first summer ride on Saturday.

Well, it was summer for part of my ride, anyway. I began early in the afternoon. After about 25 kilometers, I glanced at a NYC municipal public service announcement kiosk in Maspeth, Queens.  Temperature:  85F (29.4C)

At least I avoided one mistake I’ve made during other unseasonably warm and sunny spring rides:  I applied sunscreen to my arms, face and neck.  So at least I ended my ride without the sunburn I’ve incurred in previous summer-in-spring rides.  Those burns were particularly tiring and painful, I think, because at this time of year, areas of skin that were exposed for the first time in months are exceptionally pale and vulnerable.

Although I was prepared in one way, I was unprepared—or at least underprepared—in another. The air temperature in central-western Queens may have been a vernal ruse, but the ocean has just barely left winter behind:  the water temperature is still only about 45F (7.5C). So, as soon as I started pedaling into a headwind on the Addobo Bridge from Howard Beach to Beach Channel, the temperature seemed to drop about 10 or 15 degrees F, and further still when I transversed the Veterans’ Memorial Bridge to Rockaway Beach. 

Turns out, my perception wasn’t far off:  another kiosk near the beach reported a temperature of 58F (14C). Later, I saw an identical reading at Point Lookout, Long Island, where I turned around. 

I didn’t feel cold. In fact, I was enjoying the tingles I felt as the wind rippled my shirt—and the irony of my being dressed for summer while others wore parkas and scarves. But it was still surprising, if not disconcerting, to pedal from mid-summer to early spring in not much more than an hour!