Ya Gotta Start Somewhere, Right?

Could this be why some bike shops don't allow test rides?

Cycling Into A Season

 This weekend is the first of Fall.  Leaves have not yet begun to change their colors, and the air does not brace one's skin. Still, there are some unmistakable signs the season is changing:  Sunlight flickers rather than glares against the surface of a sea still nearly as warm as the air on the beaches and boardwalk, which were nearly as deserted as they'd be on a winter's day.

A couple of guys took to the water on Point Lookout, the destination of my day's ride.  So did a few boats.

Amid the sorrow and chaos of the past few months, today's ride gave me moments to reflect.  Riding itself has rarely felt so good.  I could hardly ask for more.

Cyclist Struck By Hate

It’s one thing when a motorist strikes a cyclist accidentally.

It’s something else when done with intention.

But I’ve heard of few things more despicable than this:



The driver not only drove into a Black Lives Matter protester on a bicycle intentionally; she made a point of expressing her hate.

The latest report says the cyclist’s injuries are not life-threatening. But he may have emotional scars that will take a long time to heal, if they ever do.

I am no lawyer, but I reckon that the woman should be charged, at the very least, with assault with a deadly weapon.

Out Of Line In The Lane

After taking a late-day bike ride, eating a dinner and reading, I dozed off, with Marlee curled up on me.  A couple of hours later, she woke me for some food and water. Then I  stepped out of my apartment for a few-minute ride on the deserted streets and bike lanes.

Well, they weren’t totally  deserted:

The cops were looking at their smart phones.  I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that the NYPD is using those devices to communicate with their officers.

I will write about that bike lane soon.

 

How Long Could He Hold It?

It boggles the mind to realize that on the last day of a three-week race, a lead of less than one minute in overall time (for the whole three weeks) is considered "insurmountable"--unless, of course, you're Greg Lemond or Tadej Podacar.

The one explanation I can come up with is from my own (admittedly) very limited experience with racing:  It's a lot harder to make up time than to lose it. Really, it doesn't take much to give up a minute or more to an opponent:  a flat tire or other malfunction, a slip or fall,  a miscalculation of an opponent's move--or simply a wrong turn.

At least, those are the things we hear about in race reports.  I wonder whether riders have lost races due to events that would be inconsequential in daily life.  

Specifically, I'm thinking of "nature calling."  If we're not racing, we stop when we find a place to "let go." But I suppose that's not possible in a race.

Or if you're being pursued by cops.  

On Saturday night, a 38-year-old man was riding light-less on a Yakima, Washington street.  A constable pulled up toward him, intending to talk to him about the dangers of what he was doing.  But when the officer turned on his bright lights, the man took off. 

After making a few turns, he ditched his bike and backpack and started running down a driveway.  He tripped on a low fence.  The officer threatened to use his Taser on him if he tried to continue his flight.

Then, according to the officer, the man put his hands up and exclaimed, "I just need to poop."

Later, when the police searched the bag the man tossed, the found three cell phones, brass knuckles, a pill cutter, $240 in counterfeit currency, more than 100 blue oxycodone pills laced with fentanyl, nine suboxone strips, two pipes, a scale, knives and some suspicious checks.

Oh, and the police discovered the guy had felony warrants for a Department of Corrections violation, possession of heroin and identity theft.

This leads me to wonder:  What if he'd just "held it" a little longer--and stayed on his bike?