Bowled Over

 My neighbors in my senior citizens’ complex think I’m a “kid.” Compared to some of them, I am:  After all, I am in midlife.

But some days I feel I’ve lived too long.  Like today: I learned that there is actually a “Pop Tart Bowl.”

What I think of what college sports has become could fill at least a few more posts.  As far as I know, the system in which colleges and universities in effect are minor leagues in service to the NFL and NBA (and, to a lesser extent, other professional sports leagues) is unique to the USA.  Even more singular is college football’s “Bowl” constellation. Years ago, there were only a few, such as the Rose, Orange and Sugar Bowls.  Now it seems anything advertised on TV has its own bowl game.

Now, I won’t judge you if you’re still eating those sugar bombs.  After all, as I related in an earlier post, they—especially the frosted brown sugar cinnamon flavor—were an “energy food” for me and my mountain bike buddies back in the day.

But a strawberry (as pink as you can get!) Pop Tart mascot accepting a marriage proposal—or grilling ‘tarts’ like they’re burgers, hot dogs or chicken wings?  Even on the most intense cinnamon sugar high, I couldn’t have imagined such things!

A Danger To All

 As a cyclist, I have always thought, to some degree, like a pedestrian. While I agree, again to some degree, with the late John Forrester’s philosophy of vehicular cycling—after all, in a auto-centric society like the United States,  cyclists are treated as second-class citizens because bicycles aren’t seen as vehicles in the way cars are—I have also seen that much of what’s good for pedestrians is also good for cyclists.  

That conclusion has been reinforced by living in a senior-citizens’ complex located next to a very busy intersection.  I frequently cross it.  So do people who get around with canes, walkers and wheelchairs.  The two streets that meet at that point are busy:  One is a major thoroughfare; the other is a two-way “main street” for this part of the Bronx. One end of that street connects to a “stroad”—Southern Boulevard—that feeds into a highway and includes entrances to the New York Botanical Garden. And too many drivers are impatient or distracted when my mobility-impaired neighbors are crossing to catch a bus.

Sometimes I wonder whether such drivers would behave differently, or if traffic safety laws would be better enforced, if not only drivers themselves, but also those who make policy and infrastructure, understood how often motorists’ bad behavior inconveniences, or even endangers, other drivers.

A wry, sardonic caption accompanied the above photo: “Bonus points for blocking 1/2 of the car lane, too.”

Merry Christmas!

 Merry Christmas!