Jeff Whitehead Is No Crazier Than Any Of Us

No matter how much you've cycled, it seems that any time you decide to pedal any further than the nearest corner, someone will tell you you're crazy.  

That is what happened to Jeff Whitehead when his neighbors learned he was riding from his home in Laguna Park, near Waco, to Rockport, in another part of Texas.

About 300 miles separate Laguna Park from Rockport.  Jeff Whitehead wasn't going that distance to train for a randonnee or race, see a monument, meet some personal goal or visit a friend or relative.  At least, he wasn't going to see any relatives or friends he knew before he took his ride.

The people he would meet in Rockport became his friends--and, some might say, relatives after he arrived.  You see, he was motivated to take his ride by seeing the television coverage of Hurricane Harvey, which devastated so much of the Lone Star State's Gulf Coast.  "I decided that it was just time to come to do whatever I could to help," he explained.

The destruction wrought by Harvey would make driving a car impossible.  That was one reason why Whitehead decided to ride his bike.  Another is that being on two wheels, instead of four, and not being surrounded by metal and glass "made it easier to go around talking to people" because his mode of transportation had him "in the same boat as they are."  Still, he realized that because he could take that ride, he was luckier than they:  "I did it through a choice; they didn't have one."

His neighbors still might think he was crazy.  To me, he's no crazier than any one of us who's gone out of our way to help strangers--or ridden a bike 300 miles.  In other words, he's as crazy as any other dreamer or hero.  And I'm sure the folks in Rockport appreciate whatever form of insanity Jeff Whitehead might possess! 

Para Esas Mujeres, Una Opportunidad Fantastica

More than 120 years ago, Susan B. Anthony said that the bicycle has done more than anything else in the world to emancipate women.  She certainly had a point:  Cycling itself gave women freedom and mobility we hadn't previously experienced.  It also led to less-restrictive clothing than women had previously worn which, of course, freed us in all sorts of other ways. I mean, I simply can't imagine living in a whalebone corset and petticoats.

Still, the bicycle's potential for emancipating women hasn't come close to being realized.  While I still wish that women's racing would get the attention it garnered, say, 30 to 35 years ago (in the days of Rebecca Twigg and Jeanne Longo), I think the real power of cycling for women lies elsewhere.

One example is in VeloCuba in Havana.  Three years ago, Nayvis Diaz left her job in the Ministry of Foreign Trade and sold her Peugeot car to finance the opening of this rental and repair shop.  All of its seven employees are women, including Dayli Carvo, who once raced for Cuba's national team. 

One of VeloCuba's employees works on a bike.

In addition to repairs and rentals, VeloCuba also conducts bicycle tours of the Cuban capital.  "We place great emphasis on knowing historical matters," Diaz says of her guides, who conduct tours in English, French and German as well as Spanish.  "We are very keen for our visitors to discover art, architecture, new places they can go at night, and learn about Cuban society," she explains.  

VeloCuba has, in its brief history, expanded to two locations--one in the central neighborhood of Vedado and the other in Old Havana.  It has not arrived at its success, however, without running through a couple of obstacles. 

One is something that even the expertise Diaz gained in her old job couldn't resolve:  how to get bicycles.  In spite of its relatively rich history of cycling, the island has no bike industry.  So, VeloCuba has had to buy bicycles from tourists visiting the island.  

The other is that for more than half a century, Cuba, like other Communist countries, had no advertising. Even today, there are few advertising venues. The shop's clientele, therefore, has been built mainly through word of mouth. At the risk of sounding sexist, I daresay that is something we, as women, rely on in so many areas of our lives.

In addition to bicycle rentals and repairs, VeloCuba repairs and maintains wheelchairs--for free.  Diaz sees it as a way to "offer some help to society."

The goodwill she is creating may help her to realize another dream she has:  that "one or two days a week, only cycling is allowed in the city."

I think Ms. Anthony would approve.

What Do You Have To Stand On?

There have been maybe a couple of times in my life when I was genuinely proud of myself.  

One of them was the first time I did a "track stand."

Back in those days, we didn't have cell phones.  It's a good thing, probably.  Then again, the NYPD doesn't enforce the ban on talking on your phone while driving.  Then again, it may not apply to cycling.

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I swear, I wasn't talking on a phone.  I was listening to an invisible sea shell!

Would You Go To Summer School For That?

I am going to make what is possibly the most startling confession for an educator:  I wasn't the best of students.

I wasn't terrible, mind you:  I was one of those students who did just well enough: sort of like the Italian football squad in the opening round of the World Cup tournament.

Oh, I made dean's list a couple of times, but that was in spite of myself.  You see, I was (and still am) one of those kids who loves to read and write, but hates to do schoolwork.

I always figured that if I moved on to the next grade, if I went from being a sophomore to a junior or whatever without getting into too much trouble (which meant, at times, that I just didn't get caught--wink, wink) I was doing well enough.

Another rationale for my under-achievement was this:  I never had to go to summer school.  To most kids, that was like the death penalty.  And I survived.

But if they'd given out cool stuff for going to summer school, I just might've gone voluntarily.

Apparently, a couple of folks up in the Finger Lakes region of central New York State realized there are other kids who feel the same way.  So they approached Newark Police Chief David Christler  to administer a fund, which they started, for "deserving young people who, for whatever reason, did not have a bike or performed service worthy of reward."

According to Christler, the couple realized that "bike ownership influenced their lives when they were young and now it seemed right for them to pass on their good fortune."  He added that establishing the fund was easy; the hard part was establishing criteria for deciding who should receive the bikes.

Jahmariyan Cornwell receives a certificate for a new bike for his attendance and particiaption at summers school. Neark (NY)  Police Chief Dave Christler is at the left; next to him is summer school principal Kari Hamelinck.  To Cornwell's left are Newark detective Gary VerStraete and K-9 Officer Dan Weegar.

School superintendent Matt Cook and summer school principal Kari Hamelinck decided, with input from teachers, that the bikes should be awarded on the basis of "attitude, citizenship and summer school attendance."  On those bases, one student from each summer school class--18 in all-- received a certificate redeemable at the local Wal-Mart for a new bike, helmet and lock.

OK, so it's Wal-Mart. Still, getting a bike when you didn't have one is something.  And, if it keeps kids in school--and performing better than they would have otherwise--it sounds good.

Hey, I might've even gone to summer school for that!

To Fall!

Today the autumnal equinox arrives at 4:02 pm EDT.

I'll be on my bike by then.  In fact, I might have even finished my ride.

I haven't decided where I'm riding.  Then again, apart from the usual changes (Is that phrase an oxymoron?)--you know, the shorter days and the changing colors of the leaves--we never really know what a new season will bring, do we?

From Treehugger

For that matter, you or I can take a ride we've taken dozens or even hundreds of times before.  We know the way; we know the terrain and the road conditions.  But we don't always know what lies ahead on any given day, on any given ride.

Out for a ride. On to a new season.