The Myth Of His "Accident"

Without even trying, I came across more than twenty articles about what happened to Shawn Bradley.  But only one called the incident what it is--or, more precisely, said what it isn't.

On 20 January, he was riding his bike near his St. George, Utah home when a driver struck him from behind.  Such collisions normally don't garner more than a report or two in a local or regional news medium.  The reason why this story captured more attention can be summed up from a sentence in the statement announcing his plight:  "Doctors have advised him that his road to recovery will be both long and arduous,  perhaps an even more difficult physical challenge than playing professional basketball."

The italics in the previous sentence are mine.  While Shawn Bradley's situation is terrible--he is paralyzed, with a traumatic spinal cord injury--it's unlikely that anyone beyond whatever communities he lives in or belongs to would have heard about it. But it just happens that one of his communities is that of former National Basketball Association players.  While he wasn't a star on the level of Magic Johnson, Michael Jordan or LeBron James, his career spanned 12 years--a geologic age in the NBA--more than eight of which he spent with the Dallas Mavericks, where he earned a reputation as a shot-blocker and rebounder. 

Shawn Bradley.  Photo by Jeff Mitchell, for Reuters

But, even with all of the attention paid to Bradley's story, there is one thing that every media account I saw, save for one, got wrong.  They called the collison an "accident."

Henry Grabar, in his Slate article titled (appropriately enough) "It's Never A 'Bicycle Accident,'" corrects this error. "A child falling off his bike in the park is a bicycle accident," he writes.  "A wipeout in the Tour de France is a bicycle accident." But, he admonishes, "Getting rammed from behind by a car is not a bicycle accident." 

Safe-streets advocates have tried, for years, to convince reporters, police officials and engineers not to use the word "accident" to describe car crashes.  As Grabar points out, the use of this word implies "the carnage could not be avoided through better policy and design." The use of the word particularly egregious when, say, a cyclist is run over by a minivan driven by someone who is looking at a screen rather than the road, or who is intoxicated.  It allows the police to spin the incident as a result of a bicycle malfunction--or, worse, to imply that that the cyclist was at fault.  "The press repeats the assertion, and the myth of the bicycle accident is renewed," Grabar observes.

Since retiring from the NBA fifteen years ago, Bradley has become a dedicated and, from all accounts, very skilled cyclist.  So it doesn't seem likely that he did something stupid, careless or illegal.  And I have to wonder:  How could a driver not see a guy who's 7'6"  (232 cm) tall?

So, of everyone who reported on Shawn Bradley being struck from behind while riding his bicycle, only Henry Grabar managed to say what the incident wasn't.  Unfortunately, it will take many more folks like him to dispel the myth of the bicycle accident.

A Theology Of Bike Repair For All

 In the spring of 2017, I spent two months volunteering at the Jubilee Soup Kitchen in Pittsburgh.  One day, a 70-year-old black man named Rupert showed up with a nasty bruise over his eye.  A bicycle accident because of faulty brakes, he said.

John W. Miller recounts this experience in America:  The Jesuit Review. After asking around, "I was stunned by how many people rode bicycles to come get their meals," he recalls.

In his article, he reports something I've described in other posts:  In cities like Pittsburgh and New York people who cycle by choice--whether for transportation, recreation or fitness--tend to be younger, better-educated (and whiter) and have better incomes than those who cycle out of necessity.  In fact, those in the latter category are in the lowest income categories and include the unemployed and those who receive public assistance--and, of course, use soup kitchens.

From Dreamstime

He also makes an observation I've related:  Poor cyclists are, as often as not, riding bikes in dire need of repair and maintenance. They may be riding bikes purchased from flea markets, yard sales or on the street--or inherited, or rescued from a curbside or fished out of a dumpster.  

Miller applauds organizations and initiatives that give bikes to the poor--and, in the case of programs like Recycle a Bicycle, teach people how to resurrect bikes that might have otherwise met their fate in a landfill.  But he also points out that it's necessary to keep those bike maintained so more folks don't end up like Rupert.  Even more to the point, a reliable bike is reliable transportation--to school, a training program or a job.  

Finally, since he's writing in a Jesuit magazine, Miller makes the point that everything he recommends is consistent with the teachings of the Catholic Church--and the current Pope has expressed his approval of bicycles.  Given that he's expressed more genuine concern for the poor than other prelates, it's not a surprise.

Nothing But Happiness Through Your Door

 Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Well, I wonder how happy it will be--for you, for me, for anybody. In a sad irony, my city--New York--and many others shut down on this day last year.  The day before last St. Pat's was the last time I set foot on campus, and some shops have yet to open.

Once again, the parade will not be held in person.  But, I hope to go for a ride later today.  This old Irish blessing captures the spirit of cycling for me:

May your troubles be less

and your blessings be more

and nothing but happiness 

come through your door.

(Illustration from Lula Bell)

P.S. I got my first dose the other night.

The Unbearable Whiteness Of Cycling

When a (n-word) comes in with a nice bike, I know he didn't buy it.  I know it's a stolen bike.

The owner of a shop in my undergraduate university town made that pronouncement.  I hadn't thought about him--probably gone--and the shop--long gone--in a long time, until I wrote posts about Black and Native American cyclists being cited at much higher rates than White riders for helmet infractions.

I got to thinking about it, again, when I came across a report of a study, "Where Do We Go From Here?"  People for Bikes conducted it, and Charles T. Brown of Rutgers University's Vooorhees Transportation Center led it.  

Among its conclusions:  The increased popularity of cycling--accelerated by the COVID-19 pandemic--in US cities has largely been a White phenomenon.  Focus groups conducted in ten cities reveal that, in addition to economic barriers (something I mentioned in my earlier posts), non-Whites, and Blacks in particular, cite a non-inclusive cycling culture and infrastructure.  Some participants said they saw cycling as a "white thing," in part because of images of cyclists projected, consciously or unconsciously, by the media and the cycling community itself.  "Whenever I see pictures of cyclists or anyone on a bicycle," one participant explained, "I just think it's not for me as someone who is over a size 10 and Black."  

(By the way, I am over a size 10 and probably always will be, no matter how much weight I lose!)

Pedal Possse Divas. Photo by David Swanson, for the Philadelphia Inquirer

The study's conclusions are all valid.  Our culture needs to be more inclusive, and its infrastructure more accessible.  But I also can't help but wonder whether some non-White people--young Black men in particular--are deterred because of how the police and criminal justice system treat them when they ride.  In addition to being disproportionately cited for not wearing helmets in places like Seattle, they are more likely to be ticketed for violations like riding on the sidewalk* --or simply stopped for "suspicion" if they're riding a nice bike.  

In short, as the People for Bikes study concludes, we won't see more non-White cyclists if Blacks, Native Americans and others don't see themselves in images of cycling--or sipping lattes in cycling cafes.  But I think the changes have to include not treating non-White cyclists as criminals when they ride the same bikes in the same ways as White cyclists.

Our bikes come in all sizes and colors.  (So do many cyclists' jerseys!)  Why shouldn't our images of cyclists?

*--Every cyclist I've met, or heard of, who's been cited for riding on the sidewalk in New York City is not White.

Visiting The Visiting Nurses

 My late-Saturday ride brought me to the light.

No, I didn't have a religious experience.  Rather, the last dusk before Daylight Savings Time--a little more than a week before the Spring Equinox--cast a glow on this city's streets and seemed to capture the flickerings of hope so many yearn for, after a year of the pandemic.

 

Nurses are widely celebrated as heroes.  They deserve an entryway like the one on this building, next to the Oxford Nursing Home.  The fellow sitting in front (he offered to move; I told him "It's OK") and his friend told me that the building now serves as artists' studios and offices for arts organization.  Not surprisingly, they added, the building was a residence for the nurses and other personnel.

The street on  which it's located--South Oxford--is nestled among the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Atlantic Terminal-Barclays Center and recently-built offices.  The Visiting Nurses building is just one treasure on a street chock-full of them.  Oh, and I wasn't the only person on a bicycle.