Never Changing Their Stripes

Zebrakenko bicycles first appeared in the US during the mid-1970s, just past the Bike Boom's peak.

Like many other Japanese bikes of that era, their lugwork and paint were clean, and they came with good, high-value components from the likes of SunTour, Shimano, Sugino and Sakae Ringyo (SR).  

Somewhere along the way--I am guessing in the early or mid-1980s, the name was shortened to "Zebra."  It was, I reckon, an attempt to evoke the animal's agility, as I don't recall any of their bikes painted with black and white stripes.

Or, perhaps, whoever rebranded the bikes had this in mind:

The Need For Lanes--And Bridges

There are some things "real" New Yorkers never do.  They include walking three (or more) abreast on sidewalks, eating cupcakes*, going to Times Sqaure (at least since it's been Disney-fied), Hudson Yards, Radio City Music Hall or Statue of Liberty.

I confess that I once went to RCMH for a holiday performance and, honestly, enjoyed it.  But I've never been to the Statue of Liberty or Hudson Yards, and have only passed through TS en route to or from the Port Authority Bus Terminal since "the Deuce" was turned into a shopping mall/amusement park.  

Then there are things no "real"--or at least in-the-know--New York cyclist does.  Among them are riding across the Brooklyn Bridge for any reason or the Queensboro/Ed Koch (a.k.a. 59th Street) Bridge except to reach places in Midtown or Long Island City.  The last time I went across the BB, a couple of years ago, I had to dodge and weave around selfie-takers and people who stroll across it without understanding that, even though the path is closed to motor traffic, it isn't a bucolic lane in their hometown.  And, while I occasionally use the 59th Street, if I am going anywhere that isn't in Midtown Manhattan, I take another crossing, whether the Manhattan or Williamsburg Bridges for downtown Manhattan and the Staten Island Ferry) or the Triborough  for uptown spots and the George Washington Bridge.

Cyclists and pedestrians on the Queensboro/Ed Koch/59th Street Bridge.  Photo by Clarence Eckerson Jr, October 2019.

While the Brooklyn is full of people, sometimes nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, who aren't paying attention to their surroundings, the  59th Street Bridge (what real New Yorkers call it) bike/pedestrian lane is simply too narrow.  Others have echoed my complaint and have told me, or written on message boards, that they try to use the other crossings I've mentioned.  

The city, it seems, has heard our complaints.  Yesterday, Mayor Bill de Blasio has announced that new bike lanes will be built on the Brooklyn and 59th Street Bridges.  

I must say, though, that I have mixed feelings.  My hope is that the new lanes--and, more important, the approaches to them--will be well-designed.  As I've lamented in other posts, too many bike lanes are poorly-conceived or -constructed, going from nowhere to nowhere or, worse, leaving cyclists (and, often, pedestrians) in hazardous spots, forcing them to make stops and turns that leave them vulnerable to being struck by motor vehicles.  

I also must confess that new bike lanes will be built leaves me with another kind of apprehension.  Other cyclists have confirmed my impression that aggression and hostility from motorists has increased.  That rage was echoed in a "man in the street" interview broadcast on a local news station:  The interviewee, whose first name is Spiro (I didn't catch his last name) complained, "the mayor is building bike lanes when there's a pandemic."  He added, half-jokingly, that he was going to run for mayor and, if elected, the first thing he'd do is to "get rid of the bike lanes."

His comments were tinged, I thought, with class resentment:  I could practically hear him thinking that cyclists are "privileged" on the backs of poor and working people like him.  That, I think is what led him to the false equivalency:  Building bike lanes doesn't detract from the fight against COVID-19 or anything else.  If anything, building lanes, if done properly, can be part of the battle, and the work that needs to be done after:  Cycling is good for physical and mental health, and can be done while maintaining proper social distancing.

All we can do is hope:  that the new lanes will be well-designed and -built, and that folks like Spiro will come around.

*--In his Vanishing New York, Jeremiah Moss wondered, " [I]s there anything more blandly sweet, less evocative of this great city and more goyish than any other baked good with the possible exception of Eucharist wafers than the cupcake?"

An Explorer Joins Her Ancestors

What I do whenever I arrive in a foreign place or a place I have not been to before, is that I have a tendency to explore--either get on a bicycle and ride all over or I walk all over.  

Did I say that? If you've been reading this blog for a while, you might think I did.  But someone far better-known uttered it during the course of an NBCBLK interview in April 2018.

That she had a tendency to "explore" makes perfect sense when you realize that she was a pioneer:  She not only played characters (or actual people) who were strong and assertive, she also took the sorts of roles women of her race and background were expected to play and imbued them with depth and substance:  sometimes more than their writers or directors afforded them.

Right now, I am having a hard time believing she's gone, even though she was 96 years old.  Just the other day, I listened to an interview with her on the release of her memoir.

She wasn't just another great actress or beautiful woman:  Because of her, we have Diahann Carroll, Pam Grier, Halle Berry, Angela Bassett and Viola Davis.  I say as much because her talents and determination would not settle for anything less than being defined on her own terms.  

I am speaking of none other than Cicely Tyson, who passed yesterday. Her family and agent gave no details about her death.   Whatever the circumstances, I still have a difficult time believing it:  When I heard her on Tuesday, I had little doubt she'd live to 100 and beyond.

We could talk about all of her great roles and advocacy.  But I'll leave you with this:

Tell me, who has ever looked better with or on a bike?

Dutch Bicycling In The Snow

A snowstorm that dumped snow on the Midwest just barely grazed New York City the other day.  We had a few flakes, but more sleet and freezing rain.

Even though we've had a few noticeable snowstorms during the past decade, on the whole, there's been a lot less of the white stuff than in previous winters. 

Apparently, that is the case in much of the Northern Hemisphere.  Mark Wagenbuur, the Bicycle Dutch author, posted about riding in the first snow to fall in Utrecht in nearly two years.

As he recounts, the snow recorded at De Bilt, the Dutch weather agency, on the 16th was the first in 700 days:  a record for the station.  The coating was light enough that the city didn't clear it, figuring motorists would drive it away. ("Drive it away" sounds like an exorcism or a fight against an enemy attack, doesn't it?)  His video and commentary shows that, for all of the Netherlands' reputation as a cyclists' paradise, there are still intersections and other roadway features that aren't so bike-friendly.

Then again, folks like Wagenbuur cycle for transportation, not for recreation or sport, as his "about" page tells us.  People who use their bikes as vehicles are more likely to see the defects in cycling infrastructure because we see our bicycles as vehicles and ourselves as, in effect, drivers.

She Saved Jews On Her Bike

 In 1994, I took a bike tour from Paris to the southern Atlantic coast of France.  Along the way, I stopped in Bordeaux for a few days.  Wine isn't the only reason to visit:  Like other French cities, it's rich with architectural and artistic treasures.  

One of them is the Palais Rohan.  Originally built for the Archbishop of Bordeaux, it became the Gironde department's prefecture and later the Bordeaux Hotel de Ville (City Hall), the function it serves to this day.

In the parking lot were spaces reserved for various city functionaries--and Nazi officials.  The latter retained their markings and were not used, half a century after the city's, and France's, liberation from German occupation.

(I tried to find photos--which I'm sure I took--of those spaces.  If and when I come across them, I'll post them here.)

I am reminded of that encounter today, the anniversary of Auschwitz-Birkenau's liberation by the Allies (with African-American soldiers at the front).  The United Nations has designated today as Holocaust Remembrance Day.  

So why am I writing about it on a blog about bicycles and cycling?

Well, as I've mentioned in other posts, many people escaped, or helped others, escape death by pedaling away from the advancing storm or by riding from house to house, village to village, to warn people or deliver things that would help residents weather the attacks, hide Jewish refugees (or themselves) or pass on messages.  Cycling is faster than walking or running, and it's easier to evade roadblocks, checkpoints and other obstacles on a bike than in, say, a car or bus.

For that reason, Yad Vashem, the World Holocaust Remembrance Center in Jerusalem, includes a bicycle. Marie-Rose Gineste, a social worker in Montauban, France, donated it to Yad Vashem, where she was enshrined as Righteous Among the Nations in 1985.

On 26 August 1942, Pierre-Marie Theas, Bishop of Montauban, followed the example of Archbishop Jules-Geraud Saliege in nearby Toulouse and issued a pastoral letter condemning the deportation of Jews.  He knew that, for full effect, it needed to be read from all of the pulpits in his diocese.  He thus turned to Ms. Gineste to ensure that the letter would be replicated and distributed in time to be read the following Sunday, 30 August.

Marie-Rose Gineste in 1943

"It was with great enthusiasm that I accepted this mission," she recalled.

Remember, there was no Internet in those days.  And she knew that it wasn't feasible to send it through the post office, as the Vichy authorities would surely censor it.  So, she hopped on her ancient steed and delivered the letter to all of the parishes in the diocese.

That Sunday, the letter was read from the pulpits of all except one of the parishes, where the priest was a known Vichy sympathiser.  That pronouncement, along with that of Archbiship Saliege a week earlier, is seen as a turning point away from the Catholic Church's earlier passive attitude toward the Petain government and a signal to French citizens to protect Jews from deportation.

The bicycle Gineste rode.

But Ms. Gineste didn't stop there.  Bishop Theas noticed her commitment and called on her to find shelter for Jewish children and adults at various religious institutions and supply them with false identities. She accomplished those tasks, and more:  Gineste also obtained ration cards from government offices and warehouses, or received them from sympathetic government officials.  Working with Jewish clandestine organizations, she ensured that the cards went to Jews in hiding.

Marie-Rose Gineste, at her Montauban, France home in 2000, just before she donated her bicycle to Yad Vashem..

I believe that every bicycle has a story.  If they could talk, I don't think any of mine, or those of just about anybody I know, could recount anything as intense or important as what Marie-Rose Gineste experienced on the bike she gave to Yad Vashem on her 89th birthday!

Note:  All photos in this post came from the Yad Vashem website.