I actually studied poetry with Allen Ginsberg. In addition to what I learned about my own writing, the experience furthered my appreciation for the poetry of Walt Whitman and--although he never mentioned his work--Pablo Neruda. They, and Allen, are poets who celebrated common things and people. So did Vachel Lindsay, but I never caught Allen's enthusiasm for his work.
Although Allen himself was never a cyclist, I feel that in some way, it was appropriate for me, as a cyclist, to have worked with him. After all, cycling brings us closer to the common things (and people) those poets celebrated. That is probably the reason why my bike tours of the French countryside are among my most treasured experiences.
However, even on a normal commute--or a wide to "unwind" after work, we can see beauty in the quotidian:
Last night, I managed to take a spin down to Sheepshead Bay after work. I arrived to find these regal and mysterious-looking swans.
And, just a little while ago, I was treated to this sight at the end of the day:
If cycling didn't help me to appreciate everyday sights, I don't know what could have!
Today's commute turned into a game of "playing chicken with the rain." Sometimes those commutes are the most fun because, when I do manage to dodge the rain, I feel like a kid who's gotten away with something.
The first half-hour of my commute felt like a ride across a big lawn lined with rotating sprinklers. It seemed that, as soon as dewy drops evaporated from my nose and hands, I'd get spritzed with another quick round of moisture.
However, about half an hour into my ride, heavier rain dropped from the sky. Suddenly, I could just barely see ahead of me. I ducked under a canopy in front of a store. What kind of a store it was, I wasn't exactly sure. The sign advertised photo finishing and passport service; inside I saw a jewelery case, a couple of fax/copy machines and a couple of desks. And, although the store appeared to be open, I didn't see anybody--not even an employee--inside. I wanted to thank somebody for providing such a good canopy exactly when I needed one!
Anyway, the rain stopped, but I saw lightning flash about a mile or so away. I trusted-- for that moment, anyway-- the wisdom in the old wives' (how sexist!) tale of how lightning never strikes twice in the same place.
Then it was back to riding in and out of the invisible rotating sprinklers. It wasn't raining when I got to work. About an hour later, the sun was shining and my students were staring out the window as I was teaching them the most important things anybody would ever teach them. Well, I probably wasn't, really, but I have to make them--and myself--believe that. Right?
This has been a strange season, to say the least. We had our only real snowfall at the end of October. There have only been two, maybe three, stretches during which the temperature remained below freezing for two or more days. Last week, the temperature reached 75F (24C) on consecutive days. And, yesterday, the temperature dropped from 52 at the time I rode to work to 27 at the time I rode home.
I knew that the temperature was going to drop, but I wasn't prepared for such a large drop. That has, in part, to do with the fact that I stayed about two hours later at work than I'd planned. Also, the wind, which blew briskly when I pedalled to work, grew even stronger by the time I pedalled home--and I was riding into it for part of the way.
Really, though, I shouldn't complain. Well, all right, I will anyway. I bought some nice wool stuff this year that I never used!
The number of bicycle commuters here in New York is certainly growing. Even auto-centric public officials admit as much; I know that I see many more people riding to and from work than I did even a couple of years ago.
While this has helped to raise, however slowly, public awareness of the viability of cycling for transportation, it is also causing us to experience what NYC motorists have long complained about: the lack of available parking, and the expense of off-the-street parking.
To its credit, the city is building more parking racks and stations. And, two years ago, it passed a law requiring commercial garages and parking lots to provide parking spaces for bicycles.
That all sounds really good. But commuting cyclists have encountered another drivers' dilemma: parking spaces in prime commuter destinations are very expensive.
The garage whose sign appears in the photo is at the low end of the price scale. The only problem is that, while it's in a neighborhood (Prospect Heights, Brooklyn) where many cyclists live, not many work there. On the other hand, prices for bicycle parking spaces in prime midtown Manhattan areas rival the fees for parking cars. As an example, one garage at Bowery and Canal Street charges $221 a month. Another near Columbus Circle charges $189 a month.
What's truly galling, though, is that some garages charge the 18.375 percent parking tax, which is supposed to apply only to motor vehicles. Given that the city never has enough inspectors for restaurants and such, it's easy for unethical garage and lot owners to charge the tax with impunity.
Still, I'm glad that such parking facilities exist, even though I haven't had to use them myself. But, who knows, one day I might. Hopefully, there will be other improvements to the lot of bicycle commuters by that time!
Perhaps you've never pondered the question posed in the title of this post. Now's your chance. Actually, I'll give you one possible answer I stumbled upon.
It seems there's a particular kind of whimsy that only the English can do. And, as best as I can tell, the Brits are the only ones who've applied that sort of mirth to cycling.
And then there is the kind of humor that only the Curry Cycle Co. of Leicester could do.
Curry placed a series of cartoons called "Strange But True" in British cycling magazines during the early part of the 20th Century. Those cartoons were compiled by a correspondent with the nom de plume of "Wheeler" and were drawn by well-known Leicester artist Frank Layton. He also designed Curry's head badge.
One of my favorite of the series in No.2, which includes the high-wire cyclist and one of the best epitaphs ever written:
On this spot at half-past nine o'clock, after watching the glorious sunset of Aug 3rd 1904, Thomas Gilbert Smith, M.D., aged 56, fell dead from his bicycle. Thunder and lightning immediately followed.
Henry Curry started building bicycles in 1884. His brothers joined in the business, and they continued building until 1932, when they began to sell Hercules cycles badged as Currys. They continued with the latter arrangement until some time during the 1960's, when Hercules, along with most British bicycle manufacturers, were absorbed by Raleigh.
