He Survived The Un-Survivable

Once, the chair of a department in which I taught asked for lesson plans, assignments and other materials "in case you get hit by a truck."  My father implored me to write a will for the same contingency.

"Getting hit by a truck" has long been a metaphor for spontaneous, sudden, instantaneous death.  And one's demise usually is the result of such an encounter with a multi-ton, many-wheeled vehicle, especially if there's nothing between the person who is struck and the bumper of the truck but a jacket--or the rear wheel of a bicycle.

Donald Graham of Omaha is an exception.

He was riding his bicycle on the shoulder of Highway 75 North when he veered into the traffic lane--and the path of a truck.

According to Police Captain Wayne Hudson, Heyl Trucking driver Danile Forno did everything he could to avoid hitting Graham.  Forno said he saw another vehicle move to another lane to avoid hitting Graham.

Hudson said that Forno will not be charged but Graham, who suffered a broken leg and brain bleed, might be ticketed.  Because he was riding home from the "Forgot Store" bar,  Hudson believes that alcohol "may have played a role" in the crash.

Even with his current woes, I imagine Donald Graham is one of those rare people who survived getting hit by a truck.  I have to wonder how, or whether, he wants to remember--and, given his alcohol consumption, how much he will remember.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day!

This day is not only a time to honor the woman who gave birth to, raised--and did so much else for--me, but also the other women who have been our inspirations, guides, role models, friends, mentors and companions.

In other words, this is for the women who rock.  And roll!

I've never had children.  But Marlee seems to think I'm her mama.

She Lost Her Parking Space

When people ask you why you ride to work or school, you might say that it saves you money, gives you exercise or simply brings you to your office, shop or classroom in a better mood than you would have been if you'd had to fight traffic or the crowds in the train or bus station.

But, do you remember what got you pedaling to work in the first place?  Was there some specific event that caused you to dust off that bike you hadn't ridden in years and use it as your commuter?

Here in New York, some long-time bicycle commuters got their start during transit workers' strikes.  Here, and in other places, there are people who rode to class or work when they were poor students or low-wage employees and never stopped even after their economic circumstances changed.  Still others simply were trying to regain health and stamina they'd lost--or to gain such qualities after not having them in the first place.

For Amy Graff in San Francisco, the impetus was losing her parking spot at her job.  So, a month ago, she pumped up the tires on her 22-year-old Specialized Stumpjumper and started navigating the city's narrow streets and steep climbs.  She recounts her experiences in a SFGate article, "What I Learned After Riding My Bike For Three Weeks."

Some of the things she learned aren't surprising:  San Francisco is hilly, but biking is often the fastest way to get around the city. That second point could also be made about riding in New York, along with "getting doored is a real thing," "drivers are clueless about cyclists" and "people wear suits, even skirts, while biking."  

But my favorite "lesson" is this:  "the streets are cleaner than the sidewalks."  That's also something I could say about New York:  Even though we have a "pooper scooper" law; I've dodged (and stepped in) more doggie doo, vomit and other vileness left by blameless animals and clueless (or manner-less) drinkers. Let me tell you, those things are really difficult to clean out of your tire treads, which you certainly want to do if you want to bring a bike into a New York or San Francisco apartment!

West Fargo Bicycle Medics

Police departments all over the world have started bicycle patrols for very practical reasons.  For one, tight spaces, crowds or other conditions can make it difficult to reach a person needing help or some other emergency.  Also, not being encased in glass and steel, and not having a motor droning in front of them, makes it easier to see or foresee situations that warrant a response.

Those are also the reasons why, last week, the fire department of West Fargo (North Dakota) unveiled four new bicycles to be used by two fully-equipped teams of medics.  Those teams will work with ambulance staff who will assist if someone needs more specialized care or transportation  to a hospital.  

The creation of medical bicycle units was motivated, in part, by the city's growing population and, specifically, the increasing popularity of downtown events that draw large crowds.  Because such events are usually held during the summer, people can be overcome by heat or dehydration.  Also, the crowds or blocked-off streets can keep other kinds of vehicles from passing into other parts of town where there might be an emergency.

West Fargo FD Captain Jason Carriveau with one of the new medic bikes.

Each team consists of two medics who are trained, on-call firefighters.  They ride custom Trek mountain bikes.  One member of the team carries a trauma kit and defibrillator machine, while the other team member has a bag of supplies needed for common medical emergencies.  Every one of the medics has undergone 40 hours of specialized training for this new undertaking.  

Fire Chief Dan Fuller said the medics may travel to nearby areas such as Moorhead and Fargo to work in larger events such as the Fargo Marathon. 

A "Mean Girls Clique"?

I wandered lonely as a cloud

Even if he'd never written another line--or if everything else he wrote had "moon" and "June" rhymes--William Wordsworth would be rightly celebrated as one of the great English poets.  Besides, with an name like that, he really couldn't be anything but a writer of some sort!

Anyway, we all know that clouds don't get lonely. (Or do they? ;-))  But nobody ever went to Wordsworth for a police report because he had what we call "poetic license."

I'm going to borrow it for a moment.  Yesterday, I took a ride to Connecticut.  At the Greenwich Common memorial, I saw this:

Does that vermillion-ish red flower feel lonely next to that sea of pink?  She's on the outside, after all!

And if she feels lonely, does that mean those pink tulips are the "mean girls clique"?