As a teenager, I followed the journey of John Rakowski, who rode his bicycle around the globe. In all, it took him three years to pedal through every continent except Antarctica.
Up to that time, one other journey so captured my imagination: the Apollo 11 flight. Exactly fifty years ago on this date, Neil Armstrong alighted from the space capsule and became the first human to set foot on the moon.
I must say, though, that the moon landing didn't sustain my interest in the same way Rakowski's trip did, mainly because the trip from Cape Canaveral to the lunar surface took only four days, and a few days later, Armstrong and fellow astronauts Buzz Aldrin (who followed in Armstrong's steps) and Michael Collins returned.
Moreover, you couldn't escape (even if you wanted to) seeing or hearing about Apollo 11: literally everything else, from Bewitched to ballgames, was pre-empted for moment-by-moment coverage of the event. It really took no effort to follow the moon mission. On the other hand, the only news, it seemed, you could get about Rakowski's trip was his serialized accounts in Bicycling!, which came out every month.
I mention him and the astronauts today because of an interesting Wired article. Rhett Allain is a physicist who can actually explain his work in terms that folks like me can understand. Heck, he's even entertaining. But what makes his article so wonderful is that he takes a seemingly idle question (which, I admit, I have pondered) and answers it in a way that makes the process of scientific research comprehensible and fascinating while showing its complexities.
The question is this: How long would it take to ride a bicycle to the moon? The short answer is 267 days, but that assumes that the cyclist weighs 75 kg (165 pounds) and puts out the same amount of energy as a Tour de France cyclist would--for 24 hours a day. He acknowledges that such a combination of factors is impossible, and that other things come into play, such as what sort of cable or other contraption would serve as the rider's route between worlds and a bicycle capable of being ridden on it.
One thing that's great about Dr. Allain's article is that it reveals just how complicated a task it was to land humans on the moon, and why accomplishing it little more than six years after JFK's proclamation was nothing short of miraculous.
Alert: The video includes footage of a truck striking a cyclist.
This one hits close to home--no pun intended!
When I lived in Park Slope, Brooklyn, I cycled along Fifth Avenue nearly every day. Those weren't my "fun" rides--far more pleasant streets and Prospect Park were close by--but I did much of my shopping, as well as a number of errands on Fifth.
Then--the '90's and early '00s--the Avenue was lined with small shops of all kinds. Some had been in the same family for a couple of generations; others were owned by young people who sold the sorts of books, clothes and music you wouldn't find in "big box" stores. As the avenue is narrow, traffic could be congested and chaotic, but there was at least some level of respect between drivers--many of whom were making deliveries--and cyclists and pedestrians. So, even though there was no bike lane, I never worried while threading through traffic and parked vans.
Fifth Avenue still doesn't have a bike lane, protected or otherwise. I still ride there occasionally, but my recent experiences confirm something I've heard from other cyclists--and read in a news report: Drivers aren't good about sharing the road.
Those accounts also confirm something else I've experienced on Fifth Avenue and elsewhere: Some of the most reckless riders are on Citibikes. A police officer has said as much to me: When he sees someone with earbuds blowing through a red light, or making a careless turn, there's a good chance he (Sorry guys, they're usually young men!) is on one of those blue share bikes.
Such was the case Tuesday morning, when a Citibiker cut across traffic in both directions--against a red signal--and was hit by a truck.
While the cyclist in question--identified only as a 39-year-old man--is expected to survive, he was knocked unconscious and suffered serious injuries. The crumpled Citibike was still on the side of the road during the evening rush hour.
Now, I might sound like one of those New Yorkers who blames tourists for everything she doesn't like, but I really believe that, to some degree, Citibike has made cycling--and, for that matter, walking--less safe than it was. While some commuters ride Citibikes, more are used by people who are in town for a day or a few days and are not accustomed to riding here or are just more careless because they figure they won't be here long enough to have to face the consequences of their actions.
To be fair, similar things could be said about many of the drivers found along Park Slope's Fifth Avenue today. They come and go: There's a good chance that the one you see today (or tonight), you'll never see again. In contrast, I used to see the same delivery drivers, as well cyclists and pedestrians, several times a week, if not every day. In other words, those folks were, in essence if not in fact, friends and neighbors. That, I believe, is a reason why drivers, even if they didn't understand cyclists, didn't harbor or express the kind of hostility we often experience today.
Oh, and it's a lot easier to see cyclists as "them" when their bikes all look--or are--the same.
That said, I hope the fellow who was struck on Fifth Avenue recovers--and that he and the drivers he encounters are more mindful of each other.
As I've recounted in several (too many!) posts, cyclists are struck, or even killed, by motorists--and not much happens to the motorist. If anything, the motorist is given tea and sympathy, and the cyclist is blamed for his or her own misfortune, even if the motorist was clearly violating the law.
What does it take to hold a lawless driver to account?
I think the answer might have just come from San Antonio, Texas: when the cyclist in question is a police officer on patrol.
On the evening of 29 June, two San Antonio officers were patrolling the area around Cattleman's Square on bicycles. They noticed a vehicle that made a turn without signaling and followed it until it stopped a few blocks later.
One of the officers walked up to the driver, 22-year-old Jonathan Ray Martinez, and asked him to identify himself as the other officer parked his bicycle in front of the car Martinez was driving.
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| Jonathan Ray Martinez |
The officer who parked his bike noticed that Martinez was reaching into the center console and looked nervous. Believing that Martinez might attack, he reached into the car to grab Martinez's hands. He couldn't get a hold, and Martinez started to drive away.
The officer's arm was hit, and his bicycle was run over. Another officer, in a car, started to chase, but lost, Martinez. San Antonio police, however, were able to link him to the incident through the license plate.
Martinez was charged with aggravated assault on a public servant and was booked on an unrelated assault warrant. His bail totaled $57,000.
Although I sometimes complain about the way police officers treat us, I am glad that the officer who tried to stop Martinez wasn't more seriously injured, and that Martinez is being punished for endangering a cyclist's life with a deadly weapon (his car). But the cynic (or realist?) in me says that he would have gotten off with a lighter penalty had the person on the bicycle not been a police officer.
Not long ago, suggesting that I equip any of my bikes with a horn or bell would have elicited the same response from me as saying that I should give up my cat, my books--or, of course, my bikes themselves. No "superfluous accessory"---and, thinking like the testosterone-besotted youth I was, "accessories" were, by definition, "superfluous" (As a woman, my thinking has definitely changed!) --would ever beclutter any of my sleek, beautiful machines. Or even the ugly ones I parked on the street.
Another rationale for my refusal to add the 140 extra grams (That's just a wild guess. I've never actually weighed a bell or horn!) to my pride and joy is that, like most humans, I was born with effective signaling devices, the main ones being located between my head and chest, and at the ends of my wrists. Moreover, my voice and hands (specifically, fingers; even more specifically, one finger in particular) could communicate nuance that no brass, aluminum or plastic device ever could. Plus, I could yell some version of "On Your Left!" in about four or five languages.
Ray Keener, who's close to my age, is wondering, "Ou sont le OYL d'antan?" As he notes, back "in our 52-42/13-21 days", we passed other cyclists (many, I admit, older than ourselves) rather frequently. Whether we were on secluded paths or in city traffic, shouting "On Your Left!" was a common courtesy. More important, it kept riders from being spooked and making sudden moves when approached.
Now, those of us who are "of a certain age" find that we are passed more frequently. But that verbal custom seems to have gone by the wayside. A few cyclists use horns, bells or other signaling devices. As often as not, however, younger and faster cyclists silently slip by us. Worse, some of those passers are on electric cycles, which are even quieter than most regular bicycles.
Interestingly, pedestrians seem more baffled than anything else when they hear a bike bell. I guess that, if anything, they expect us to howl, "Watch out!" or something less suited to a blog intended for general audiences.
I think the trend Mr. Keener and I have noted is part of a larger phenomenon. (I hate that last clause, but it works.) It seems that, at least in large US cities, people are less aurally attuned to their surroundings in general. Today, you see lots of people, especially the young, walking, running, cycling or skateboarding with earbuds.
This trend began, I believe, with the widespread use of the Walkman. When those devices first came to market, they were a way to hear your favorite music wherever you were, whatever you were doing. They soon turned into a way to shut out the environment: Not only could you listen to Culture Club or whoever while you were running; you didn't have to listen to traffic or parents yelling at their kids.
So, I think Ray Keener is right in noting that "On Your Left!" is a common courtesy that, well, isn't so common anymore. He doesn't blame the Walkman or technology in general. Rather, as he observes, "riders going 8MPH faster than me aren't in my space long enough for a verbal cue to work." His solution: "Get a bell." You know, I rather like them: The brass ones from Japan are as pretty as they sound. Of course, if you're a weight weenie, there are titanium bells.
Then again, if you're a real weight weenie, just remember that you already have built-in signaling devices!
In my youth (Yes, I once had that!), a couple of my poems were published in a small magazine. It was a big deal to me, and I thought it would lead to fame, if not fortune. Still, I was surprised when a stranger on the street recognized me as “the poet.” I blushed. “I’m not the only one,” I demurred.
“But you’re going to be The One. You’re going to be famous—and rich.”
He even said something about becoming a millionaire. “Well, not many people become millionaires from poetry. Or even thousandaires.” At that point in my life, I wasn’t even a hundredaire.
These days, I am just as surprised as I was then when a total stranger recognizes me. If anything, I reassure myself that the statute of limitations has run out for anything I did—and I am a different person, literally, from the one I was—in my wayward, footloose days.
Such concern, however, we’re unwarranted yesterday, as I was spinning along the Rockaway Boardwalk, when a young man pedaled up to me. “I read your blog!”
Turns out, Luca was on the return leg of a ride to Point Lookout. So was I. He had a bit further to go, though: to Jersey City, where he manages Jersey Cycles. He’s an “alumnus,” if you will, of a few area bike shops I’ve frequented.
Some of those shops have been taken over by Danny’s, a regional chain. We talked a bit about the business: It’s tougher than most people realize. And it’s changed in all sorts of ways. It occurred to me later that it might account for his, and my, tastes in bikes—and blogs. In particular, he mentioned “The Retrogrouch.”
You might say that my encounter with Luca was a momentary brush with fame. Ironically, he revealed a way I might’ve attained fortune. One of the shops in which he worked was part of the Metro chain, which became part of Danny’s. The entrepreneur who started those shops, Luca said, “was all about real estate. He didn’t care about bikes.” Hmm...Had I understood that when I had opportunities to open up a bike or book store, I might have retired by now.
Still, I’m glad I didn’t. Although I wouldn’t mind having more money, I’m not sure about having a fortune. As for fame—moments of it are fine, at least if the recognition comes from someone as cool as Luca.
