A Crash By Any Other Name

This happened at a bicycle race in Matamoros, Mexico on 1 June 2008. One cyclist was killed.  Ironically, "Matamoros" means "Kill Moors" in Spanish.  (From VeloWorld)

A few years ago, a man used his SUV to run over five people on Long Island after getting into a fight with one of them.  He fled the scene of the accident.

Tell me:  What's wrong with the above passage?

It's in the last word:  accident.  The last time I checked my Oxford English Dictionary, none of the definitions of the word "accident" included intention, volition or causality.  Perhaps I should look again, just in case my memory is getting fuzzy.

Yet no less than the New York Times--and, presumably, the Nassau County Police Department-- used that word to characterize the incident.

Now, you might say that my perceptions are colored (clouded?) by being a writer and English instructor. Still, I contend that words are powerful, and the ones that are chosen shape the way people perceive whatever is being described.  And people's responses, or lack of them, are a result of their perceptions.

The Long Island man's use of his SUV as a weapon of mass destruction certainly wasn't the first--and probably won't be the last--time such an incident is referred to as an "accident."  It's also not the only kind of non-random collision that has been, or will be, so misnamed.

About two years before the Long Island incident, rapper Foxy Brown is said to have hit two cyclists on West Houston Street in Manhattan.  She originally claimed that her former friend, Ayesha Quattara, was at the wheel, but the testimony of the cyclists who were hit--and Quattara--indicated that the rapper (who is said to be losing her hearing) was the real culprit.  Quattara and the cyclists also said that Brown yelled, "Get out of my way, you dumb white faggots!"

That incident was also listed as an accident (and her friends claimed that she is neither a racist nor a homophobe).  Now, she probably didn't intend to run them down.  However, Brown herself admitted she was agitated as she was racing from one Louis Vuitton store to another before it closed.  So the incident can't be called an "accident" that "happened."

Calling such incidents "accidents", by implication, lessens the culpability of the drivers involved.  It also, I think, causes detectives and others charged with investigating such incidents to think that they are simply terrible fates that could not have been avoided.  I can't help but to believe that anyone who thinks that way will take their investigations less seriously and, perhaps, to be less diligent in them.  

On the other hand, if such incidents were classified as (attempted) homicides or negligence, the cops would be right on them.  Even classifying what Foxy Brown or her friend did as a hate crime would have gotten it more attention than it got as an "accident".

An Atala In Another Life

In my previous life--many years ago--I saw an Atala bicycle for the first time.  Then, it was as exotic to me as African masks and Japanese prints must have been to French artists in the middle of the 19th Century.  

Even next to other racing bikes I'd seen, it seemed almost other-worldly.  For one thing, it was probably the first bike I saw that was equipped with Campagnolo components--although I had no idea of what they were, let alone why they were so revered.  Hey, I didn't even know that the frame was made of Columbus tubing, which was the only equal to Reynolds 531.  

One thing I knew for certain was that the bike was pretty (even prettier than the one in the above photo):  painted in a kind of coral color with white bands and chromed lugs and dropouts, if I recall correctly.  In fact, I probably thought it was the prettiest bike I'd seen up to that time.

As I came to know about and ride other bikes, I was less impressed with Atalas.  Whatever awe I had for them was all but destroyed after I worked on a few in bike shops:  Other bikes, from Italy as well as other countries, had much better workmanship.

But seeing that Atala important for me for one other reason.  Atala was probably the first bike brand I encountered for the first time through its top racing model.  I knew of Royce-Union, Schwinn, Raleigh and a few other manufacturers through their three-speeds, baloon-tired bombers or their kids' "Chopper" or "Sting-Ray"-style bikes, and would later encounter their road bikes.  I first learned of Peugeot, Gitane and few other French makers through their lower-level ten-speed bikes, which seemed to appear like toadstools after a rainstorm during the early years of the BIke Boom.  A couple of years later, I would encounter Japanese bike makers like Fuji, Nishiki and Miyata in a similar fashion.

It wasn't until years later, when I went to Italy for the first time, that I saw an Atala city bike.  Back then, such bikes were all but unavailable in the US:  Bike shops would stock a model from, say, Peugeot or Kabuki; it wouldn't sell and everyone would conclude there was no market for such bikes.

Over the past two or three years, I have been seeing more city bikes from European and Japanese companies that, for decades, have been making them for people in their own countries.  One of those bikes is the Atala I saw tonight, parked just a few doors away from the apartment of a friend I was meeting.   

I'll bet that whoever rides that bike has never seen that Atala racing bike I encountered a long time ago, in another life. 

WE BIKE at Smorgasburg

Yesterday I promised to tell you about the event where I saw the Pashley Mailstar, which is used by the "posties" of Royal Mail in the UK.

Liz (R) showing two cyclists how to repair an innertube.

Liz Jose, the founder and president of WE Bike (Women Empowered through Bicycles) used the bike to transport a table tools and various WE Bike schwag to a repair workshop/recruitment drive held at Smorgasburg in Brooklyn.  

We volunteered our own bikes for "the cause"!

Actually, some might argue it wasn't a full-blown repair shop.  What we did was to teach some female cyclists (and, in a few cases, men who accompanied them) how to fix flats.  If a cyclist--especially a female rider-- learns to do only one repair, this should be the one.  If nothing else, knowing this basic skill can keep you from getting stranded.

Erin (facing to the side), Shelley (in pink t-shirt) and Liz (seated).

The fear of getting stranded by a deflated tire, and not knowing how to fix it, is one of the most common reasons why people won't take longer rides or use their bikes for transportation.  I think this fear is greater among female cyclists, for we (well, many of us, anyway) have more reason to fear for our safety if we are stuck in the middle of an unfamiliar or unsafe area by ourselves.  Also, I think that many women have been taught, implicitly or explicitly, to distrust their own abilities to fix even very basic things, not to mention to be self-sufficient in any number of other ways.  

Having been raised as male, I wasn't inculcated with that same distrust of my abilities.  Of course, I did not understand that until I started the transition that has culminated in living in the female gender of my mind and spirit.  I suppose that, in addition to some skills that I possess, that self-confidence might be what I can offer the women and girls who join and ride with WE Bike.

I hope that doesn't sound condescending, or as if I'm some well-intentioned  but misguided do-gooder.  I have been known to do things at least partially for altruistic reasons, and I can say that joining WE Bike is one of those things.  But the most important reason why I've decided to involve myself with it is that, since my transition, I've come to feel out of place in both the formal and impromptu men's cycling groups in which I've participated.  Even the so-called co-ed groups are dominated by males.  Not that I have anything against them:  I simply feel that I want and need other things now, as my motivations for (and, most likely, style of ) riding have changed.

Plus, so far, I'm enjoying the company of the women in WE Bike.  Isn't that the real reason to be involved with any group, whether or not it's formally organized?

As for the dilemma I faced: I managed to look presentable enough, I suppose, for the writing workshop.  I don't know whether anybody there noticed, but I was wearing a cardigan/jacket over the sundress in which I rode to the workshop--and to the WE Bike workshop.  But once I got to the latter event, I covered the top of my dress with something else:

I'd say that the fit might've been a bit snug, but the color worked!  And somehow I managed not to smudge the T-shirt or sundress in spite of the grease and dirt on my hands!

A Postie Bike In Brooklyn

Here's a bike we don't see every day, at least not in the US:

It's a Pashley Mailstar bike.  "Posties" all over the UK use them to deliver cards, letters, packages and whatever else can be sent through Her Majesty's service.

Liz, who rode it, bought it from a friend in South Africa.  It's come in very handy for her, as she has to lug a lot of equipment to various events, such as the one at which I saw this bike. The first time she rode it, she says, she found the riding and handling more responsive than she expected from such a bike.  That, from someone who rides classic road bikes and whose stable includes a Mercian.

It's not hard to imagine workers at the Olympics in London using this bike, or something much like it, to bring equipment to different venues of the Games.

I'll tell you more about that event tomorrow.  I'm getting sleepy:  a sure sign I didn't use enough sunscreen!  

All In A Day: Drafting Proposals And Patching Tubes

Tomorrow I will face a bit of a dilemma.

No, it's not about what to do with the rest of my life, although I've been thinking (and not feeling very encouraged) about that lately. Rather, it's something a bit more mundane, though the way I resolve it might affect other things in my life.

It's like this:  In the morning, I'm leading a writing workshop.  It's in a business environment, so I have to look more or less professional, even though it will be a Saturday. That means, among other things, no shorts, tank tops, T shirts or flip-flops.  I don't think sneakers would be such a great idea, either.

Once that workshop is done, I'm going to co-lead a bike repair workshop for WE Bike NYC (a.k.a. Women's Empowerment Through Bicycles).  This workshop will be a bit different from others in that people will bring in their bikes and we will show them how to make repairs or do maintenance they need.   Professional attire is, of course, not required. 

The logical thing--which, believe it or not, is what I'll probably do-- would be to pack clothes I wouldn't mind smudging with grease or staining with other substances and to change--either in the bathroom of the office building where I'll be doing the writing workshop or at Smorgasburg, where the repair workshop will be held.

Then again, a part of me wants to show up for the repair workshop in a skirt and heels.  I'm thinking of the day Velouria and I rode, when I switched the pedals and made a couple of other adjustments while wearing what I'd worn to work that day.  Somehow I managed not to make a mess.  But I don't know how long I could sustain that.  

But for all of those people who are intimidated by the prospect of working on their own bikes, I could send a message by showing up as a "working woman".  On the other hand, whatever I change into won't be bike clothes (i.e., no spandex), so I won't be projecting the image of a "bike jock" or "shop rat."  

Or would I?  I've just had a manicure and pedicure today.  


Note:  Photos were taken by Velouria and are on her blog, Lovely Bicycle!