Oops!

 A bicycle company rolls out a prototype of a new bike. Someone wins a race on it. The Union Cycliste Internationale bans it.

All right, that’s not the exact sequence of events. But it’s close, and the reality is as absurd as I’ve made it seem.

Jake Stewart pedaled Factor’s prototype aerobike to victory in the Criterium du Dauphine, a multi-day stage road race in France. At or around that moment—no-one seems to agree on the timing—the UCI issued a new set of rules that includes regulations on frame dimensions, in particular rear stay and front fork width.

Image Credit:  Will Jones, Cycling News

While none of the journalists covering the race could get close enough to the bike to measure it, almost all agreed that it’s at or beyond the limits, which will bind road bikes starting the first of next year and track bikes one year later.

Focus, perhaps not surprisingly, does not want to release details about, or grant access to, the bike. I can just imagine the reaction of the company’s designers, engineers and marketing folks if the UCI bans the machines, as I don’t think enough everyday cyclists, no matter how wealthy, would be in the market for it for the company to continue producing it.

Image credit: SW Pix

But if the timing is anything I described at the beginning of this post, I can imagine the folks at UCI exclaiming, “Oh merde!” when Jake mounted the podium—and not only because Stewart is British.

Ride Into a Changing Season

 Yesterday I pedaled to Point Lookout via the Rockaways. This is an interesting time of year for such a ride: it’s almost or actually summer, depending on whom you ask, but the temperature difference between the “mainland” and beach areas still is, or at least feels, as pronounced as it is early in the Spring.  According to some reports, temperatures reached 85-88F (29-31C) around my apartment and in other central areas of New York City. But the lifeguard stations along the Rockaways Boardwalk indicated 72F (22C). It certainly felt that way, with wind blowing from 59F (14C) water.

I didn’t need to know the numbers, however, to explain something I saw: Many people walking or riding the Boardwalk but hardly anybody swimming. And those statistics couldn’t have explained the differences, however subtle, I noticed in the light and color of the sky and water.

The Power of Loving

 Today I am going to, once again, invoke my Howard Cosell Rule. That is to say, this post won’t directly relate to cycling.

Nearly a decade ago, the film Loving came out. I exhorted my students to see it; some did. When we discussed it, I mentioned that the story on which it was based happened during my lifetime, one student exclaimed, “And you’re not so old!”

I was, and am, in midlife. Mildred Jeter and Richard Loving married in Washington DC in 1958, the year I was born. So why were they wed in the nation’s capital? Well, immediately to the south, in their home state of Virginia (as in other Southern states) their union was illegal: She was Black and he was White.

A few months into their marriage, cops broke down their door while they were in bed and hauled them off to the station house. The one-year sentence imposed on then was suspended for 25 years on the condition they leave the state. Which they did, but they missed their country home, families and friends. Their homesickness, and other difficulties, motivated Mildred to write to Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy (What happened to his kid?) who referred them to the American Civil Liberties Union.

The ACLU litigated their case all the way to the Supreme Court. On this date in 1967, it issued the ruling that banned all laws against interracial marriage in the US.

The Lovings were not political people and never spoke of their experience—except for one occasion, when Mildred expressed hope that Loving vs Virginia would lead to all people—she specifically mentioned LGBT people—could marry whomever they love.

The Lovings stayed together till death did them apart: Richard, aged 41 in 1975, struck by a drunk driver; Mildred at 68 in 2008 from pneumonia. But their story is a testament to, if not the power of love, then of the lovings.