Today the Pride March makes its way down Manhattan's Fifth Avenue to Washington Square Park. From there, marchers will turn on to Christopher Street and pass the Stonewall Inn. On this date forty-five years ago, patrons fought police officers who tried to raid the bar. This clash, first labelled as the Stonewall Riot and later the Stonewall Rebellion, is usually cited as the beginning of the modern LGBT equality movement.
As always, there will be some bicycles in the procession. Of course, nobody will ride very fast, and some of the bikes as well as cyclists will no doubt serve mainly as props for signs or floats.
I admire the spirit of these marchers in Vietnam, who are pushing for marriage equality in one of Asia's most repressive regimes:
We all know that such struggles are important. But we can't forget that sometimes the battle is won and lost with, and on, accessories:
One of these days, I'm going to post some photos from the bike tours I've taken and write some entertaining but factual(!) stories to go with them. I have to go through boxes full of images, find the ones that might be meaningful or at least interesting to you or any other reader, and have them scanned.
But for now I'll tell you that when I was pedaling alone in a foreign country (or simply away from home), carrying what I needed , I had moments of pure exhiliaration, when I felt proud of what I was doing yet humbled by the immensity of the world that surrounded me.
There were also moments, however, when I almost felt silly, like the time I rode up the Col du Portillon in the Pyrenees. I ascended on the French side and, nearing the highest part--the border between France and Spain--I was thinking that Hannibal had nothing on me. But I saw two creatures who did: a pair of brown mountain goats, watching me from the side of the road. I could almost swear that I heard them chuckling to themselves. "You think you're such a great mountain climber. We do this every day!"
And whenever I feel confident in myself for carrying everything I need on my bicycle, I should remember that there are people all over the world who haul far more, every day:
I must say, though, that the man makes almost as much of a fashion statement as the woman does!
A day off from work. Barely a cloud in the sky. Warm, but not overly so.
Sounds like a great time to ride, right?
And ride I did. On Arielle. The ride was even breezier than the day. In fact, at times, it seemed just as easy when I was riding into the breeze as when it blew at my back.
I did a metric century (105 km, or 65 miles, to be exact) and was no worse for it. In fact, I felt even more invigorated at the end of it. The only reason I didn't ride longer, or take another ride, is that I have a couple of things to take care of tonight to prepare for my participation in Pride Weekend events.
So where's the rub, you ask? Surely you don't read this blog for conflict-free stories (Is that an oxymoron?) and happy endings, now, do you?
All right, there was one slight problem. Along Rockaway or Coney Island Beach, I wanted to take some photos of Arielle with the Ruth Works bags and new handlebar tape. When I stopped at a spot along the reconstructed Rockaway boardwalk where I thought the light was particularly nice, I turned on the camera. Actually, it didn't turn on: The battery was dead!
I think I accidentally turned it on the last time I put it away. I have another battery that I keep in the charger and when I switch batteries, I put the depleted one in the charger. Unfortunately, the charged battery and charger were in my apartment!
So I took only this photo with my cell phone. It's not bad, given the phone and my skills. But I couldn't capture the kind of detail I'd hoped to have in new photos I would have used to update the blog. Oh well.
