Sold--By Mistake

A onetime cycling buddy, Lewis, had his bike sold out from under him.  He didn't realize what had happened until several years later.

It's not that he was stupid or gave up riding.  He'd joined the Navy and was sent to far-flung locales.  He was in one of those places when his term of enlistment was about to end, and he signed up for another.  Four years later, he re-upped again.

All told, Lewis stayed in the Navy long enough to retire from it.  He said that, in a way, he couldn't really blame his family for selling his Frejus track bike--all-chrome, with blue decals that looked like stained-glass windows--because they really didn't know when he'd be back.  Even though he found other rides, and would eventually have a custom frame built for him, he missed that Frejus.  "It was the first really nice bike I had," he recalled.

The only thing that really upset him, he said, was that his parents sold the bike for $25.  Even in those days, that was a bargain price for a high-end bike that was in good shape.  "They didn't know any better," he explained.  "To them, a bike was a bike, and they were happy to get that much money for a used bike."

I hadn't thought about Lewis in a long time, until I heard about Allan Steinmetz of Newton, Massachusetts. Like Lewis' parents,  he sold a bike that had great meaning to another member of his family.  The bike, a Motobecane Grand Touring from the 1969-early 1973 era.  I say that from my knowledge of Motobecanes and looking at catalogue scans of that era.  Also, Steinmetz says it was new his father-in-law gave it to his wife "more than 45 years ago," when she was 16.  



He didn't say how much he got for the bike. But whatever it was, I'm sure it won't make his wife happy.  Her father was a Holocaust survivor and "made it a priority to give his family the very best."  Now, most of us wouldn't say the bike was "the very best," but it certainly was a very good touring bike for its time.  The frame was made from 1020, a carbon steel used in French bikes that weren't built from name-brand tubing like Vitus, Reynolds or Columbus.  That long-cage Huret Allvit rear derailleur is certainly a time capsule, as are the Huret levers that could be used to paddle canoes in a pinch. 

If I saw the bike in a garage sale, three things about it would tempt me:  the frame's long touring geometry, the Ideale 80 saddle and, best of all, the Stronglight 49D cranks.

Anyway, Steinmetz is pleading with the bike's buyer to return it.  "I can't win," he lamented.  "The only thing I can win is by getting this bike back."  His wife wanted to "give the bike to our granddaughter one day, which I didn't know," he said.

In a way, I could understand how and why Lewis' parents sold his bike.  But I wonder how Steinmetz could have "accidentally" sold a bike which, he surely knew, had so much meaning for his wife, whether or not she actually rode it.

From Mexico City To Colorado, And A New Purpose

There are times when I believe that cycling is the only reason why I have anything that can be described as mental or emotional health.  I become sad, even depressed, when I can't ride for significant periods of time.  Also, I took two bike tours that were, at least in part, attempts to restore myself to some degree of sanity, and another led me to the single most important transformation I had to make.  

The latter ride took me up the Col du Galibier as well as other famed Tour de France and Giro d'Italia climbs in the Alps.  I started that tour in Lyon, France as a guy named Nick.  Two years later, I began my current life as a middle-aged lady named Justine.

The other two tours followed crises in my life, one of which culminated in a sort of minor breakdown.  In both of those rides, I spent weeks--actually, months on the first tour--on my bike in foreign lands, living on a student's wages or less.  Don't get me wrong:  I experienced all sorts of pleasures on both of those rides, as well as the one in the Alps.  But they also were power-washes, if you will, against the detritus of some past experiences that had been causing me even more internal distress than I'd realized--or, perhaps, was willing to admit.

So when I came across Rafael's story, I felt as if I'd met someone after my own heart.  Of course, I don't imagine that his ride from Mexico City to Colorado will lead him to the sorts of changes I made.  But he does talk about the restorative powers of his ride, and how it led him to a mission, if you will:  fixing bicycles for underprivileged people in his newly-adopted community.

The next time someone asks you why you ride, ask yourself (and that person):  What would your life be like if you didn't ride?

Is This What It Takes To Charge A Driver Who Strikes A Cyclist?

If you read the post I wrote yesterday, you could tell I was angry.  I still am.  Another story that came my way intensified my rage.

In Omaha, a 26-year-old woman was arrested after hitting a cyclist with her car.

You can be forgiven for thinking that I should view this arrest as "progress" after a driver in my hometown got off with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from a police officer after he killed a cyclist.



But the driver wasn't charged with any injury she caused the cyclist. Instead, she was cited for DUI, reckless driving, child neglect (her infant was improperly restrained in the rear of her car) and having an open alcohol container.  

I guess I should be grateful that she was cited for anything at all.  I can't help but to think, however, that the only reason why she was charged with anything at all is that the cyclist in question was an Omaha police officer.

Death For Bike Messenger, Tea And Sympathy For Driver

Warning:  The video near the end of this post may be too much for some of you to take.

A couple of years ago, a woman was attacked and raped not far from where I live.  She'd been walking home at 3:45 on a Sunday morning when she was set upon by a group of young men who dragged her into a darkened parking lot.

Most people were, rightly, outraged.  But a few, even at such a late date and liberal neighborhood, asked, "What was she doing out at that time?"

The explanation, it turned out, almost exactly matched what I'd surmised:  She'd been working a Saturday night shift at a bar.   To the question of why she didn't take a cab or Uber or something, the answer was simple:  She lived only a block and a half away from the bar and had never before encountered any trouble.

It was a chilling reminder of the days, which I remember, when the first questions people--even other women--asked upon hearing of a sexual attack were, "What was she wearing?"  "What was she doing there at that hour?"  The implication was, of course, that she'd "asked for it"--even if the woman had been wearing "scrubs" and was in front of a church in the middle of the afternoon. (Yes, I heard of such a case once!)

I found myself thinking about such victims after a story  that made news in our area:  A 20-year-old female bike messenger was struck and killed yesterday morning, just as the workweek was beginning, in the bustling Flatiron district of Manhattan.

One reason I found myself thinking about the rape victims I mentioned is that news coverage seemed to emphasize two major points, one being that the messenger was a young woman.  Some of the coverage expressed more grief, if in a patronizing way, than she might've received had she checked the "M" box.   But some of those same reports--and, of course, other coverage--seemed to convey a tone of suspicion and scorn reserved for the rape victims I mentioned.  You could almost hear some news editor wondering, "What was she doing, working a job like that?"

The other salient point of the coverage, which also turned into another way to blame the victim, was that she was riding "in the middle of the street" and "not in a bike lane" when she was struck.

Robyn Hightman

I am very familiar with the block--Sixth Avenue between West 23th and 24th Streets--where the Robyn Hightman, recently relocated from Virginia, lost her life.  There is indeed a bike lane, which is frequently congested.  Anyone who makes deliveries, whether on foot, bike or in a motorized vehicle, knows that it's all about speed.  A messenger simply can't move quickly enough in a lane crowded with tourists on Citibikes.  

More to the point, though, is that the way the bike lane, like most others in this city, is designed.  Because it's at the curb's edge, and the "stop" line at each intersection is the same for bikes as it is for motor vehicles, turns--which you make a lot of if you're a messenger--can be dangerous if a motor vehicle is turning in the same direction.  This arrangement also makes crossing major intersection--23rd Street at Sixth Avenue is one--difficult, if not dangerous.

Moreover, when there are flexible or no barriers--as is the case on the Sixth Avenue lane--delivery vehicles and Ubers frequently pull in and out, especially in as busy an area as the one I'm mentioning. 

What makes the shaming of Robyn Hightman all the more galling is that the driver of the vehicle, who claimed he didn't know he hit her, got off with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from a police officer who arrived at the scene.  The driver claims this incident is his first "accident" (the word he used) in 14 years of driving for his employer.  An investigation, however, revealed that the truck he was driving has been cited with 83 summonses since 2015.  Most were for parking violations, but at least two were for speeding.



In 2018, ten cyclists were killed by motorists on New York City streets.  Robyn Hightman was the 12th in 2019, and the year isn't half-over.  And the driver got tea and sympathy--along with an assurance he wasn't in trouble--from an NYPD officer.

Bicycle Expressway Opens In Beijing

Just over a year ago, I wrote that construction of a 6.5 kilometer bicycle expressway was to begin in September.  It was designed to link the residential neighborhoods of Huilongguan in Beijing's Changping district with a rapidly-developing high-tech zone in the Haidan district, where about one in six Huilongguan residents work.

Well, that expressway has just opened. So why is it called an "expressway" instead of a "highway" or "lane"?  Well, it actually does speed up the commute, which could take an hour and a half because several busy highways had to be crossed.  The new Beijing bicycle expressway is elevated, so it crosses over those highways as well as other busy intersections.  As a result, the trip can be done in 25 minutes when a cyclist rides at the 20kph (12.5mph) speed  limit.

One really interesting feature of this new three-lane highway is traffic lights that allow managers to switch the direction of the center lane to accommodate traffic flow during the morning and evening rush hours.
  



Another stage of this bicycle highway is planned.  When completed, it will reach Zhuongguancun, often referred to as China's Silicon Valley.  Nearly one in five Huilongguan residents work there.

Could Beijing once again become the "Bicycle City" western tourists saw during the 1980s and 1990s?