The Pulaski Bridge Bike Lane Is Open. It's A Victory--Almost

One sure way to elicit chuckles or groans, or both, from a longtime New Yorker is to mention the Second Avenue Subway.  It has been planned for nearly a century, and construction on it began in 1972, only to be halted by the city's near-bankruptcy in 1975.  

The tunnels were dug in three non-contiguous sections.  By the time new construction on the line began eight years ago, those tunnels were unusable.  So, the whole line has to be built from scratch.  It was supposed to open last year; now the city's Metropolitan Transit Authority is saying, in effect, "maybe next year, or the year after."

On this blog, I have also mentioned the Randall's Island Connector, which seemed to take nearly as long to build and open as it took for the island--and neighboring Manhattan, Long Island and the Bronx--to form during the Taconic and Acadian orogenies.  Finally, in spite of the snark and cynicism (entirely warranted!) of people like me, it opened late last year, and is actually a good, well-designed bike route.  My only complaint is that the Bronx entrance, while not difficult to access, is easy to miss if you're not familiar with the area.

Speaking of difficulty in access:  That has always been one of my complaints about the Pulaski Bridge pedestrian path.  That difficulty in entering it--especially if you're coming from the east on 49th Avenue or the north on 11th Street, which just happen to be the two ways I usually access the bridge--is one of the reasons I usually ride in the traffic lane.  Another reason is that the pedestrian path is so narrow--actually, there are signs telling cyclists to walk their bikes across the span--and heavily used by pedestrians (some with dogs), skateboarders, skaters and others, that it's actually easier and safer to ride the traffic line, where visibility is pretty good.

 

I get the feeling that when the bridge--which connects Long Island City in Queens with Greenpoint in Brooklyn--opened in 1954, nobody anticipated that so many pedestrians and cyclists use it.  As I've mentioned in other posts, I can recall riding over it, and through the neighborhoods it joins, twenty or thirty years ago and not seeing another cyclist.  Then, most of the people who lived on either side of the bridge were longtime blue-collar residents who stopped riding bikes as soon as they got their drivers' licenses--if, indeed, they ever rode bikes in the first place.  Now, of course, Greenpoint and Long Island City--as well as nearby neighborhoods like Astoria (where I live) and Sunnyside in Queens, or Williamsburg and DUMBO in Brooklyn, are full of young people who've discovered that it's OK to ride a bike even though they're old enough to drive.

Someone in the city's Department of Transportation no doubt noticed the changes I've described.  So, that person reasoned, a dedicated bike lane was in order.  A plan to create one was first proposed about four years ago. Then, we were told, it would take about two years to complete.

Now, I understand there were challenges in creating that particular lane.  For one, the bridge carried six lanes of traffic over the entrance to the Queens-Midtown Tunnel and near entrances to I-278, and is located near industrial areas.  Thus, the bridge receives a fair number of vehicles, some of which are trucks and vans.  Surely, the drivers of those vehicles--who, in some cases, are independent contractors and businesspeople of one sort and another--would not be happy about losing traffic lanes.

Another difficulty in creating the bike lane is that the Pulaski is a drawbridge.  So, anything used to separate the bike lanes from traffic would have to be sturdy enough to do the job yet could be separated when the bridge is opened for a ship. 

Then, of course, there are the usual causes of delays, such as obtaining funds and working with contractors.  Those wrinkles were ironed out and, when I rode down 11th Street the other day, I saw--yes!--cyclists using the lane.  That, even though the path is not officially open:  ribbon cutting is supposed to take place today.

While I am glad for the lane, I think it doesn't resolve one problem of the pedestrian path:  access.  On the Long Island City side, one still has to make awkward turns across lanes of traffic, and on the Brooklyn side, the "merge" with the traffic lane is fairly smooth for cyclists coming off the bridge, but makes it difficult to enter the lane.

So--we got our lane, better late than never.  But, as with too many other bike lanes, the person who planned it probably isn't a cyclist and therefore doesn't realize that simply providing a separate lane for cyclists does not ensure our safety.

 

Because I Am Not A Horse

Having the day off from work on Monday is one of life's guilty pleasures.  I feel as if I'm getting away with something when I see kids going to school and adults doing the work they normally do on weekdays.

Of course, I sometimes forget about the traffic that results from all of that activity.  At least, where I rode today, I encountered only two real clots in the circulatory system of this city's traffic.  When I rode through and around them, I experienced more guilty pleasure.  Surprisingly, the drivers didn't look as angry or resentful as some of them can be.  Perhaps with the beautiful weather we had--a high of 23C (72F), sunshine, high clouds and strong breezes that made things a bit cooler by the ocean--nobody could be really upset.

In fact, some were taking it easy:

And those knots of traffic I experienced were balanced by this:

Yes, it's the same parking lot that was totally full the last time I rode to it, the Saturday before last.

So, if you're a regular reader of this blog, you might have an idea of where I rode.  Here's another clue:  105 kilometers, round trip.

I did indeed ride to Point Lookout.  Of course, outside the gas station and shops, nobody was there to work.   So the relaxed vibe came as no surprise.

Oh, and the tide was out.  People and their dogs skipped along the sandbars, their manes bouncing and billowing in the wind.

Mine did, too.  I confess:  I rode for a few kilometers without my helmet, just to feel the breeze that rippled the sea and the embryonic reeds that are being planted along the newly-built dunes.

I put my helmet back on--because I am not a horse.

Crystal-Clear: Aurumania Is Expensive!

When I first started reading Bicycling magazine--about four decades ago!--Lambert of England was advertising a 24-karat gold-plated "Professional" bicycle.  It went for the princely sum of $279.88.

Apart from the gold plating, this, erm, model was interesting in other ways.  For one thing, it was filet-brazed:  that is to say, constructed without lugs.  The joints were built up with brass solder and brazed at a low temperature.  While Lambert was not the first to employ this method of construction, it was one of the few to do so--and, apart from the Schwinn Sports Tourer (which later became the Superior), one of the few high-quality mass-production bikes to feature it.

As for the frame material--it was called "aircraft tubing" but was just straight-gauge chrome-molybdenum steel.  Plenty of moderately-priced bikes have used it, but it was nothing unusual.  The forks, however, were often called the "death fork", as a number of them broke.

Most of the bike's components were made in-house and patterned after other well-known parts of the time. So, for example, their centerpull brakes looked like Weinmann Vainqueurs and the cranks resembled those of TA.  However, some of those parts had their own proprietary specifications.  As an example, the bottom bracket--probably the worst part of the bike--had an axle that didn't taper, so the cranks had a habit of working loose and getting gouged.   Also, the threadless bottom bracket assembly was held into the shell with circlips and was not interchangeable with other setups.  So, when the crank (or simply the bottom bracket) had to be replaced, the frame's bottom bracket shell had to be tapped to accept standard bottom brackets.

But, oh, that gold-plated frame!  At the time those Lamberts were made, the price of gold had risen from $35 to $58 per ounce.  As of this writing, the going price is $1236.  I wonder whether it would be possible to simply take off the gold plating and melt it down.

If I am thinking that way, I am obviously not in the market for a bicycle that was produced a few years ago.  It, too, is gold-plated--not just in the frame, but on all of the major parts, including the cranks, hubs and rims.  As near as I can tell, the parts are standard:  the sort of stuff you'd find on fixed-gear bikes today.  And the Brooks saddle and hand-sewn leather handlebar covers are the brown, just like the ones you can buy in your neighborhood shop.  They sure look good with the gold frame.



But perhaps the most striking part of the bike is the headlugs.  Adorned with 600 Swarovski crystals, they wrap like glittery necklaces and bracelets around the frame's headtube, top tube and down tube.




The bike, created by Aurumania, was made in very limited quantities--ten or fifty, depending on whom you believe.  If the latter numer is true, then you have to buy the wall rack that goes with the bike.  You're not going to prop the bike against your carved mahogany door, are you?




And let us not forget the Campagnolo gold-plated corkscrew you'll need to celebrate your new bike  After all, you're not going to use something you found in Bed Bath and Beyond to pop open that bottle of Romanee-Conti Grand Cru you're going to drink in celebration, are you?

Bike Bard

Four hundred years ago today, William Shakespeare died.  

Interestingly, this date--the 23rd of April--might also be his birth date.  We do not know his birthday with any certainty; the first record that exists of him is his baptismal certificate, dated the 26th of April, 1564.  

I am so thankful for Bill.  After all, if he didn't exist, I'd have to torture my students in some other way.  And, really, it's not as much fun to torment people with Tennyson or Chaucer.  I couldn't really haunt my students with Milton, because I'd have to spend more time explaining Paradise Lost than I would for any of the Bard's plays.  By the time I'm finished, most of my students would be too dazed to be terrified.

(That last statement is conjecture.  Now I'll make a confession:  I've never tried to teach Paradise Lost, or any other poem by John Milton.  I'd bet a lot of English instructors today could say the same.)

Seriously, though...Where would we be without Shakespeare?  He has given us so many of the figures of speech and common expressions we use every day.  The only source of more of those pithy words and phrases is the Bible.  And, even if that book is directly inspired by God, as many believe, I'm sure that it wasn't all written by the same person.  Then again, every generation or so, someone makes the claim that not all of Shakespeare's works were written by the same person because, as one commentatior put it, "How could one person write all of that?"

Even if there was not one "Shakespeare"--or, as some have said, the name was an alias--I'd probably still believe that he (or she?) existed.  S'il Dieu n'existait pas, il faudrait l'inventer:  According to Voltaire, if God didn't exist, it would be necessary to invent him.  I think of Shakespeare in the same way.

Now, even though I am a writer (yes, really!) and I teach English (would I lie?), you are probably wondering why I'm devoting a whole post in a bicycling blog to the Bard.  Well, he was an avid cyclist.  Oh, come on:  You don't believe all of the official versions of history, do you?  Especially the ones that say the bicycle wasn't invented until two centuries after Shakespeare died?  Well, if you read almost any of his plays, you realize that time isn't linear--at least, not in his plays.  (One notable exception is his last play, The Tempest.)  He shifts action back and forth between places and times, three centuries before moving pictures--let alone split screens and other effects--were invented. 

From Morna Murphy Martell

So, it's not only likely he pedaled; it's certain.  The clues are sprinkled throughout his works.  To wit:

       "...thou and I have thirty miles ere dinner time".  Henry                IV Part I, Act III, Scene 3.

I mean, if that isn't something somoene would say during an audax or brevet, I don't know what is.

During such a ride, he was almost surely complaining about his equipment:  

         "to ride with ugly rack" --Sonnet 33

         "thou hast worn out thy pump"--Romeo and Juliet, Act                II, Scene 4


And the ride continued after dark:

         "Lights, lights, lights!"--Hamlet, Act III, Scene 2

         "Lights, more lights!"--Timon of Athens, Act I, Scene 2
          
Hey, he even rode in  Critical Mass:

          "For tis the sport to have the enginer hoist with his                     own petard."--Hamlet, Act III, Scene 4

One thing about Bill:  He liked to kick back at the end of a ride:

          "do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude                            rascals?"--Henry VII, Act V, Scene 4

  

The Wheelie Bar

The eve of the 1970s North American Bike Boom was, interestingly, the heyday of "muscle" cars and "chopper" races.  So, it's no surprise that bicycles were made to evoke, in every way possible, the roaring engines and screeching tires of Daytona, Indy, LeMans and other motorized races.

The best-known of those bicycles were probably the Schwinn "Krate" series and Raleigh "Chopper".  Sometimes I think the latter name referred to what happened to bones when we attempted some of the stunts we saw on "Wide World of Sports".

Whatever our skill (or stupidity) levels, we all could do "wheelies".  We didn't need "training wheels", as we derisively called this item: