Attacked, Left To Die On The Island

Right now, I am alternating between feeling guilt and rationalizing a choice I often make.

I have pedaled on and through Randall's Island many, many times.  It lies under the RFK Memorial (formerly Triborough) Bridge.  The misnamed Harlem and East Rivers separate it from Manhattan and Queens, respectively, and a deceptively inert ribbon of water--the Bronx Kill--runs between it and the borough for which the body of water is named.

Most days, it's either uneventful or relaxing:  Most of the island is parkland.  The firefighters' academy occupies part of it; another piece is taken up by a water treatment plant.  A small bridge connects the island to Ward's Island, the site of a mental hospital and homeless shelter. Bike lanes wind around Randall's from the Connector, a bike-pedestrian bridge spanning the Bronx Kill, down the main road and up the Harlem River side near Ward's.

That last stretch is one of the more remote parts of the island.  Diana Agudelo rode it to and from her job at the Museum of the City of New York, the northernmost museum of Manhattan's famed "Museum Mile." I would imagine that she took that route mainly for the same reasons I have:  It is both convenient and relaxing.

That last quality is also what leads some people let their guard down.  I am not saying that Ms. Agudelo was not mindful of her surroundings, but in that island of calm amidst the city's hustle and bustle, it's easy to let one's guard down.  

So she probably had no inkling of what was about to happen to her on Friday night:  About half an hour before midnight, someone attacked and brutally beat her, taking her eBike and cell phone and leaving her to die.  Someone out for a walk found her, unable to move or speak.  She still can't do either, which is making it difficult for police to identify her attacker.

The guilt I mentioned at the beginning of this post is over knowing that someone has suffered a tragedy in the course of doing something I have done many times.  I hope it doesn't become "survivor's guilt."  At the same time, I have been offering rationales to people who've heard Agudelo's story and are admonishing me to "be careful" or simply scare me out of riding on the Island.  I have long been aware of the risks of riding the particular stretch of bike lane where she met her fate, and I almost never ride on the Island after sunset.  

All I can do now is hope that she is a "miracle:"  The doctors have given her a very small chance of surviving.  Oh, and I hope that the thug(s) who attacked her is/are caught.

 

Rainy Day Voyage

 Rain, drizzle, mist, rain. That was today’s weather sequence. Rain when I woke up. Drizzle through my commute. A  curtain of mist when I entered my workplace. And rain cascaded me exit.  

I wimped out and took the train home.  But I got back in time to spend a couple of hours in the Botanical Garden.

A show about Van Gogh and nature will begin Friday. I plan to attend: Flowers? One of my favorite artists?  What’s not to like?

I figured, correctly, that if nothing else, the aftermath of the rain that had subsided by that time would enhance the flowers’ and trees’ scents. It also seemed to amplify birds’ songs. Perhaps I heard them so clearly because they had to share the park with so few visitors.

Even though most of the lilacs—my favorite flowers—are gone, the scents of those that remained found my nose even before I reached the lilac garden.

On my way back to my apartment, I detoured to visit a friend.

Maria. She and other New York bodega cats are a species of their own.

Marlee didn’t seem jealous. They rubbed against my ankles as I walked through the door.

“They Took The Grips”

 Many years ago—before I knew better—someone took the rear wheel from a bike I’d parked.

I thought it was secure because I’d used the most expensive Kryptonite or Citadel lock—I forget which; they were the two “name brands” in U-locks. Anyway, the thief took my rear wheel but left the front which, like the front, had a quick-release lever. And the two wheels were a pair:  the same rims, and hubs that came out of the same box.

Part of the reason why that loss stung so much, apart from cost, was that those wheels were the first I’d built successfully. And I was angry and exasperated in the same way one is when losing one of a pair of something: say, the sock that the washing machine or dryer “ate” or the earring that fell off some time during a busy day.

For a moment, I thought the thief was someone who “had it in” for me or a CIA agent or someone engaging in psychological warfare—why? Because of a protest I attended?

Anyway, l learned to lock up my wheels. But on another occasion, years later, I locked up a bike I normally wouldn’t have left on the street. It cost me a Brooks saddle and seatpost. That was more expensive, I think, than any parking ticket issued on that block:  34th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues, next to the Empire State Building.

Of course, now I know that a bike locked to a parking meter, streetlight pole, fence or any other outdoor structure in a large city is a buffet table for thieves, whether of the organized, professional variety or those who commit crimes of opportunity. I have seen many bikes stripped to their bare frames after a few days—or even hours—on a New York sidewalk.

Notice that I said such things happen in any large city. Some poor soul in London also learned about that the hard way. His brand-new Specialized Sirrus X 5.0–“the most expensive bike I ever bought”—lost its wheels and most of its drivetrain. “They even took the grips off my handlebars,” he lamented. Oddly enough, the perp(s) didn’t take the pedals, some of the most commonly stolen parts. According to the owner, the way the bike was parked may have made them difficult to remove.

But the hardest lesson our benighted cyclist learned may have been the insurance company’s denial of his claim. He used two Gold locks, but the insurer refused to reimburse him because the bike wasn’t behind a locked door. 

So…Even if you have the best locks, remember to read your insurance policy carefully. Oh, and don’t leave wheels and other expensive parts vulnerable.