The Ultimate Guide To Bicycle Safety

Amidst the chaos that has been my life during the past couple of weeks, I received an interesting request from reader Courtney Fettu.

She has worked with the law offices of Jay S. Knipsel to create "The Ultimate Guide To Bicycle Safety".  She wanted some feedback on it, which I gave.  She then sent me a revised version, which I am going to reproduce here.

Even if you've been cycling a long time, I think you'll like the guide and find it useful.  It goes beyond the usual "rules of the road": In addition to giving safety tips for children as well as adult riders, mentions some of the laws regarding bicycle safety and what a cyclist should do if he or she is involved in an accident.  The information is presented in an engaging format, which should appeal to visual learners as well as those of us who are readers.  

Please share it with fellow cyclists, school and youth groups, and anyone else who might benefit from it:

Here is a link to the guide I will list it on the sidebar of this blog.  

Why Discounting Memberships Isn't Enough To Get Public Housing Residents To Join The Bike Share Program

Sometimes I wonder what's being taught in journalism schools--or, for that matter, in a lot of other schools--these days.

This article about New York City's Bike Share program (a.k.a. Citibike) seems to have been written by the  cut-and-paste method.  In recent years, I've seen any number of student papers--and, sadly, professional documents written by people whose credentials and pedigrees are supposedly superior to mine. 

OK.  Enough of my ranting.  The article, in spite of itself, raises some interesting and important questions about, not only the Bike Share/Citibike program, but of the nature and demographics of cycling--not to mention other social phenomena-- in the Big Apple.

According to the article, the 58,000 annual memberships sold as of mid-July include only 500 discounted memberships to residents of New York City Housing Authority apartments.  

NYCHA residents can purchase a membership for $60 instead of the normal $95 fee.

Citibike and the Department of Transportation distributing free helmets in New York City Public housing project. From The New York World

Notice that I wrote "residents" in the plural and "a membership" in the singular.  That, according to the article, is what seems to be happening:  NYCHA residents are sharing membership, which the Bike Share program forbids.

If they are indeed doing so (which I don't doubt), I can understand:  After all, NYCHA residents tend to come from lower on the household income spectrum than people in private housing.  Also, families who live in public housing are more likely to have family members or friends staying with them for a few weeks or months after arriving from out of town or the country, or during a bout of unemployment or other difficulties.  I imagine such long-term temporary residents (Is that an oxymoron?) are using their hosts' passes. 

Even if, say, five or six people are using each NYCHA Bike Share membership, residents of public housing are probably using the Bike Share program less, proportionally, than other people in New York.  

One major reason is, of course, that the shared bikes are less available to residents of public housing.  For example, the Bronx, eastern Brooklyn and southeastern Queens, which have large swaths of public housing, do not yet have any Bike Share ports.

Whether those areas of the city get ports any time soon is an open question, as they include some of the highest-crime neighborhoods (and most dangerous streets, traffic-wise) in New York.  Also, in talking with residents of those areas, some express concern or outright fear of cycling in their neighborhoods,  whether because of gang activity or other crime, or traffic, so one has to wonder whether they would ride.  

I don't know exactly which parts of which public housing projects are controlled by which gangs.  But I'm sure that significant parts are controlled by Bloods.  Their arch-rivals, the Crips wear blue:  the color of Citibikes.

Perhaps even more to the point, though, is the paradoxical resistance, and even hostility, one finds to cycling and cyclists in lower-income communities.  In Portland, people of color refer to bike lanes as "the white stripes of gentrification."  Though not articulated in quite the same way, many poor and working-class people of color--who comprise the vast majority of public housing residents--hold such attitudes.  (I know:  I've heard them.)  

So, if membership is indeed low in New York City's housing projects, I think  Bike Share/Citibike administrators will need to address the cultural as well as physical barriers to renting and riding bikes in the neighborhoods in which the projects are located.  Now, if people are sharing memberships, well, I don't know what to say.



 

 

A Ride Into The Memory Of A Storm

Life is slowly returning to normal, some eight months after Superstorm Sandy.

I saw evidence of this on my ride to Point Lookout yesterday.

A stretch of the Rockaways Boardwalk has been reconstructed, and another part has reopened.  What's interesting is that you can see both of them together:

Concrete and composites are being used to reconstruct the sections that were destroyed.  Of course, that fact begs the question of whether such a structure may still be properly called a boardwalk.

Then there were parts that were merely fixed.  You can tell these parts by the new guardrails:

It's hard to tell just how powerful the storm was when the sea looks so calm.  However, when I got to Point Lookout, the tide was in:

The water tumbled against those rocks just a few moments after I took that photo.  Although skies were clear and gave nary a hint of even a shower, it's hard not to remember the storm.

The Past Week--And The Future?

If you've been following this blog for some time, you know it's not like me to "disappear" for a week.  But I have good excuses, er, reasons for not having posted during the past seven days.

You see, I have embarked on some research and other projects.  They're not related to my "day" job but they are related to some of my deeper passions and inclinations, as well as to developments in my life during the past few years.  It's a bit early to discuss them at any depth; the fact that they've taken up so much of my mental (and, at times, physical) energy makes it difficult, if not impossible, to talk about them in any event.  However, I trust that I will have some interesting things to describe and discuss.

(Also,the recent heat wave broke for a stretch of some pleasant weather, so I've spent the little free time I've had on my bike!)

At least one of the experiences is bike-related and a direct result of previous volunteer work; another is related to things I've discussed on my other blog.  

I think I'm living in interesting (for me, anyway) times, and hope to make them interesting for you, dear readers.  Might the course of my life be changing yet again?

Without Women On Wheels

Yesterday marked 60 years since the end of the Korean War.

The South commemorates it in a rather somber way.  The North--the so-called People's Republic--celebrates it as a victory.

However one sees the conflict and the armistice, it's hard to think of them as a victory for women (or very many other people who aren't Communist officials) or cyclists on either side. 

powered by Fotopedia

Late last year, the PRK (North) ended a decades-old ban on women cycling.  However, just a couple of months later--in January of this year--the ban was reinstated.  Moreover, the current statute doesn't allow women to even ride on the rear (or front) of a two-wheeled vehicle.  

The current restriction, however, is even more draconian than the one that was revealed.  Previously, offenders could be fined 2000 to 5000 won (2.20 to 5.50 USD at current exchange rates). Now, authorities can confiscate bicycles on which women are pedalers or passengers.  

Ostensibly, PRK officials believe that women on wheels is a "violation of good socialist customs", i.e., they're offended by flapping skirts.  But, just three weeks ago, women were allowed to wear trousers and high heels.  I wonder what excuse the government will offer (not that they have to) now--or whether the ban will be repealed once again.

A Way I've Never Commuted

In my four decades or so of cycling to and from work, school or any other place I had to be on a regular basis, I carried stuff in a variety of ways. 

Most recently, I've used my Koki pannier and Carradice Nelson Longflap saddlebags for the purpose.  At other times, I've stuffed the panniers I used on my previous bike tour with books, manuscripts, student papers, changes of clothing and shoes, lunch or other food and a few things I won't mention.  At other times, I've used backpacks, messenger bags (I was a NYC messenger for a year.), front baskets, milk crates zip-tied (or cinched with old toe straps) on a rear rack and plastic shopping bags tied to my handlebars orframe (or dangled from my fingers),  I've carried everything from baguettes to an Andy Warhol work under my left arm as I steered with my right, and even balanced things on my handlebars or head. I've even carried pizzas in a variety of ways, including balancing i in my raised left hand (a la the Statue of Liberty) while steering with my right, or clamping the corners of the boxes between my thumb and forefinger while grasping my handlebars with the other three fingers of each hand.

But for all of the ingenious (if I do say so myself) and stupid tricks I've employed as a bicycle commuter and messenger, I have nothing on this person:

From Bike Roswell

Mackinac Island, Somewhere In Time

What do these images have in common?

Well, in both photos, people are on bicycles.  But there doesn't seem to be much else in common, right?

It's fairly obvious that the second photo was taken more than a century after the first. But they were taken in the same place--or the same locale, anyway.

I'm talking about Mackinac Island, Michigan.  It's in Lake Huron, between the state's Upper and Lower Peninsula.  

Motorized vehicles have been banned on the island since 1898.  The only exceptions are emergency vehicles (owned by the city that shares the name with the island), motorized wheelchairs and golf carts, which cannot be operated outside of the golf course.  Also, snowmobiles are permitted in winter.

In the 2010 Census, the Island had 492 permanent residents.  However, during the peak tourist season (summer), there are as many as 15.000 people.  Even then, neither visitors nor residents report a sense of being overcrowded. 

The Island also boasts the only state highway in the US--M185--where motorized traffic is not allowed. The road circles the island, hugging the shoreline, and thus affords some fine views.

Mackinac has one of the strongest historical preservation movements in the US.  As a result, the entire island is designated as a National Historic Landmark.  Among the most iconic structures is the Grand Hotel, which featured prominently in two films:  This Time For Keeps and Somewhere In Time, which was shot entirely on the island.

 Bicycling is said to be the most popular way of getting around the island.  Also, people walk a lot, and quite a few roller-skate.  All of that human-powered notion is no doubt fueled by the island's most famous product:  its fudge.

It's interesting and perhaps ironic that in a state that's synonymous with the automotive industry, there's a place where no cars are allowed.  Even more interesting, the now-115-year-old ban began right around the time that the auto industry was beginning.

Splitting Vintage

Every once in a while, I'll walk by a seemingly-ordinary bicycle parked somewhere or another and, without knowing why, turn back to look at it.

That's what happened today at a local library branch.  This is the bike that made me backtrack:

At first glance, it seems like one of the current Merciers.  Not a bad bike, but nothing exceptional:  The welded Reynolds 520 frame sports a combination of inexpensive but functional components.  And the color and trim are rather nice but, again, not exceptional.

However, I noticed an interesting little detail upon looking at the bike for the second time:

The model name is "Galaxy."  Why would I notice something like that?

Well, as far as I know, when Merciers were built in France, there was never a "Galaxy" model.  However, another bike-builder--in England--offered a "Galaxy" model:

Dawes was a family-owned bicycle manufacturer based in Birmingham--the center of the British cycle industry--for nearly a century.  They were known mainly for their touring models; the Galaxy was billed as one of the least expensive stock (what the Brits call "off the peg") quality touring models available.

In materials, design and construction, it was very similar to the Raleigh Super Course, though the frame workmanship, in my opinion, tended to be a little better on the Galaxy.  Also, the Galaxy had, if I'm not mistaken, a somewhat longer wheelbase than the Super Course.

While not as popular as Raleigh in the US, many new American cyclists early in the 1970's "bike boom" bought a Dawes Galaxy as their first "serious" bike.  More than a few were outfitted with racks, full fenders (They came with useless half-fenders.) and lights and ridden on the Bikecentennial.  

What's interesting is that Dawes and Mercier--like Windsor--were bike brands that had somewhat-more-than-modest popularity in the US during that time. Now Chinese- and Taiwanese-made bikes bearing all three of those brands--as well as the hugely popular Motobecane--are sold on the Internet.  

Bikes sold under those brands in the US have no connection to the original manufacturers, which no longer make bikes in the countries in which they were founded.  Mercier, which had a successful racing team, went bankrupt in 1985; the same fate befell Motobecane, which became MBK and now manufactures motor scooters.  Windsor used to build bikes in Mexico based on European designs; its "Profesional" (note the Spanish spelling) was a knockoff of a Cinelli racing bike.  Eddy Mercx rode a Colnago bike bearing Windsor decals when he set the one-hour distance record in Mexico City in 1972.

So Dawes is the only one of those bike brands sold on the Internet whose original namesake company still exists. (Dawes bikes in the UK are sold by dealers and aren't the same as the ones in the US.) It's thus ironic to see the name of one of the most popular models in its history appropriated by a "ghost" bike label--that was based in France, no less!

Dawes Galaxy Road Test in Bicycling, May 1969

 

Making Your Ride More Pleasurable

Almost any cyclist will tell you that one of the great pleasures in life is being massaged after a long, hard ride.  In fact, professional racing cyclists--as well as others--regard it as a necessity.

Of course, racers are usually rubbed on their legs, shoulders and other areas that bear the brunt of their rides.  I would assume that the same is true for those who aren't racers--depending, of course, on who is giving the massage!

If you wanted a massage while riding--especially in those areas that touch your saddle (and aren't touched by someone who's not intimate with you), you were out of luck--unless, perhaps, you were riding with someone on a tandem.

(I've ridden a tandem twice in my life, both times as the "captain".  Neither time was I or my "stoker" even thinking about massages--to my knowledge, anyway-- so I cannot say for certain whether it's possible for one tandem partner to stroke the other while riding!)

Well, now it looks like someone is going to fill a market niche I never knew existed.  SexShop 365, an online sex-toy retailer in the UK, is now offering "Happy Ride", a battery-operated vibrating seat cover.  The intensity of the vibrations can be controlled and, as Daily Mail correspondent Katy Winter says, it will "make journeys by bicycle that bit more exciting".

(Don't you just love that dry British wit?)

 It seems that the device is designed to cash in on two things:  a resurgence of popularity for cycling in Britain and the mania surrounding Fifty Shades of Grey and the movie based on it that is scheduled to be released next year.

Oh, it costs 28 GBP (about 45 USD at current exchange rates). Delivery is free in the UK.

Dans Le Soleil Couchant

Twice I have been in Paris for the end of the Tour de France.  

Now, I didn't go specifically to see the riders whisk down le Boulevard des Champs-Elysees:  I just happened to be in Paris so, of course, I squeezed my way into as good a viewing position as I could find.  Both times, I felt the effort was more than worthwhile, even though the race's overall winner had already been more or less decided.

Even though Chris Froome had pretty much wrapped up this year's General Classification title before the final stage began, I would have loved to have been in Paris to see this:

From Cycling Art Blog

I witnessed more than a few spectacular sunsets through the Arc de Triomphe:  If one stands at any point on the Champs-Elysees, one has to face west in order to see the Arc.  But I never saw anything quite like the show the sky and the Tour riders offered the other night!

Convincing Me Otherwise

Every once in a while, I think about repainting Vera. The finish is pretty scraped up, though actually not bad for a bike its age.  Also, I think about having shifter bosses brazed on and having the cable tunnels near the top of the down tube removed, as I use a down tube shifter.

Of course, one thing that deters me from doing so is money: It hasn't been abundant for me lately.  But seeing this bike may also keep me from altering and refinishing Vera:

It's a Holdsworth from, I'd guess the 1970's.  At least, the style of the lugs and paint as well as the Campagnolo Record gruppo (with a Nuovo Record rear derailleur) lead me to believe it's from that era.

All of the Campagnolo equipment--including the large-flange hubs--seems to be original.  About the only deviations I could see were the replacement brake blocks (Mathauser Kool Stop) and a non-Campagnolo headset I could not identify.  The latter component might have been a British-made TDC headset, which was often supplied with English frames.

Even though the paint was worn away on some parts of the frame, I didn't feel that it was battered or decrepit.  Of course, the fact that someone is using it makes it seem contemporary and relevant. But there's just something about high-quality lugged steel bikes--particularly the British ones, in my opinion--that seems to age well.

Of course, they also give sweet rides!

From Wheels To Feet

Nearly every cyclist has had the experience of cycling, for the first time, some street, road, lane or landscape over which he or she had previously walked or driven.

Today I had the inverse of that experience:  Walking, for the first time, a lane I had cycled many, many times before.

Marley had a medical emergency.  To my knowledge, the only place where I could take him on a Sunday morning is the Humane Society, just a block away from the Manhattan side of the Queensborough (59th Street) Bridge.  The subway neaerest to me (two blocks) stops only a block from the Humane Society.  I reasoned (correctly) that it probably be a quicker trip in a car (assuming I could get someone to drive me on such short notice) or even a taxi, if I could find one.  

Riding my bike might have been even quicker, but rigging a secure way to carry him would have taken even more time, probably, than the ride.  Also, I wasn't sure of how he'd take to being on a bike and, because he was sick, I didn't want to the anxiety he was already feeling.

So I took the "N" train to the Lexington Avenue and 59th Street station. Marley will remain at the Humane Society's treatment center for two, possibly three nights.  That meant, of course, that today I returned home without him.

If I were to ride from the Humane Society to my apartment, I would cover about three and a half miles, which would probably take me anywhere between ten and fourteen minutes, depending on which bike I rode, how I rode and what conditions I encountered en route.  Walking, as it turns out, is slightly shorter, distance-wise, as I can walk up a couple of one-way streets (including the one on which I live) around which I would have to detour were I using wheels.  However, the walk took nearly an hour, or five to six times the time I would need to cycle it.

Those facts of time and distance came as no surprise to me.   However, I was not prepared for a sensation I had while walking across the bridge's bike/pedestrian lane:  I felt nearly naked, and a bit vulnerable.  The heat and humidity that smothered us for the past week finally broke today, so even more cyclists crossed the bridge, in both directions, than would normally transverse it on a Sunday.  The lane is just wide enough for about three cyclists travelling abreast of each other in either direction, and even though the lane is divided (with paint) between cyclists and pedestrians, it's all but impossible to remain in one way or another.  If you're cycling in one direction, you're going to dodge cyclists (and, sometimes, skateboarders and scooter-riders) in the opposite direction, as well as tourists taking in the panorama.

Back in the day, not nearly as many cyclists used the bridge as use it today, and there were no skateboarders, rollerbladers or scooters.  If I recall correctly, those of us who cycled, walked or ran used a lane on the north side of the bridge.  (I didn't use the Queensborough regularly in those days, as I lived in Manhattan, then Brooklyn.)  The current lane rims the south side.  If there is/was indeed a lane on the north side, I wonder why it's no longer open.  Did it fall into disrepair?  I think the number of cyclists who use the bridge (and walk) will continue to grow, not only because more people are commuting or going into Manhattan to shop, dine and such, but also becuase--in a phenomenon all but unheard-of two decades ago--tourists are actually coming to Queens. 

Therefore, if there is a north lane, it should be repaired and opened.  If there isn't, one should be built.  Then, those of us who ride, walk, run, skateboard or otherwise travel motor-free between Queens and Manhattan will have the same choice as those who take the Manhattan Bridge, which has bike/pedestrian lanes on both its north and south sides.

The Hope of the Tour

It seems that, barring a mishap, Chris Froome is going to win the Tour de France.  Just as Brits cheered his rival and fellow Engishman Bradley Wiggins last year, they—and cycling fans around the world—want to see Froome take the title this year.

Even more important, I believe, is another hope expressed by his admirers—and one in particular:  a guy named Stephen Roche.
 

He’s the Irish cyclist who won the “Triple Crown”—le Tour, Il Giro d’Italia and La Vuelta d’Espana—in 1987.  I am not the only fan who believes he could have had a career to rival the greats like Jacques Anquetil, Eddy Mercx, Bernard Hinault and Miguel Indurain were it not for a chronic knee problem.  Like them, he was a great overall rider who excelled in the mountains and on time trials.  Also, he was as conscientious about his training as any cyclist who ever lived.

The thing that true cycling fans loved about him, though, was his form.  In spite of his chronic injuries, very few cyclists have ever been as graceful and as powerful in the saddle as he was.  Whether he was on a hors categorie climb or riding against the clock, he always exhibited the same fluid, symmetrical pedaling motion.  And the rest of his body seemed to support it, in unison.

Stephen Roche in 1987

Near the end of his career, he faced accusations of doping that were never conclusively proved.  That was quickly forgotten and never seemed to cast a shadow over his reputation.  Plus, if you ever saw him ride, you'd know that he didn't need drugs to win.


 I think cycling fans always respected Roche because he won, or at least placed highly” In the “classics”—races like the Paris-Nice and Tour de Romandy.  In other words, he did not focus his attention entirely on le Tour, il GIro or la Vuelta and disregard the rest of the cycling season.  So, when Roche says that Froome is the "next great hope", or something to that effect, people listen.

He has expressed hope that Froome actually is, and will remain, the “clean” rider he so far seems to be.  Plus, from what I’ve read and heard, just about everybody who’s met Froome respects and likes him.  If he can win clean, he—as Roche points out—will be a great ambassador for the sport.

On The Dock Of Newtown Creek

So how did I spend the hottest afternoon of the year?  (High temperature:  100F or 38C)  Riding, of course.

At least I know I wasn't the only one.  At the bridge to the Rockaways, I met Hal Ruzal, Bicycle Habitat's mechanic and wheelbuilder par excellence (and a kick-ass musician).  And his girlfried, who looks a bit younger than me (and him) was also on her bike.  Was she showing true love to Hal, or to cycling? Or--well, all right, I won't ask any more unanswerable questions (not in this post, anyway!).

In any event, I sensed that they wanted to ride together, so I coasted down the Rockaway side of the bridge before them.  I stopped in Rockaway Beach, near the site of the old Playland, went for a dip in the ocean and paid tribute to the Ramones.  Somehow I think that if they were all still in this world, they'd've been there to buoy the post-Sandy spirit of the place.

Anyway, I bumped into Hal and his belle again in Riis Park, where the storm leveled the dunes.  From there, I rode down to Breezy Point, across the Bay to Brooklyn and Floyd Bennet FIeld and Coney Island.  Finally, at the end of the day, I crossed back into Queens from Greenpoint:

I'm not sure this is quite what Otis Redding had in mind when he sang, "Dock of the Bay" (one of my favorite songs of all time).  But, it was about as idyllic as one could get on Newtown Creek, which the EPA rates as the most polluted body of water in the US--except in those years when the Gowanus Canal "wins" that "honor."

You Know It's Hot When...

Today the temperature is expected to reach 100F (38C).

Whether or not we reach that meteorological milestone, I know it's hot, and that it's been hot since Sunday.

I know it's hot when I'm riding the streets of this city and hope to see a bunch of kids (or grown-ups) cavorting around an open fire hydrant.  I pretend that I'm Charlton Heston--I mean, Moses--at the Red Sea except, of course, that the plume of water doesn't part to me.  Of course, I don't want it to.

It's hot when I don't mind some teenager aiming the spray at me--although I have to wonder about any teenager who wants to see an old lady like me in a wet T-shirt!

If I were this woman, I don't know that I would merely stand in front of the fountain on a day like today:

Diane Randall.  Image from VeloJoy.

Volunteering In Recycle-A-Bicycle's "Other" Center

This evening, i helped out at Recycle-A-Bicycle's Long Island City center.  I learned about it while helping out at RAB's DUMBO location.  

Both spaces are cluttered, as are most bike shops in New York CIty.  However, the Long Island CIty location feels more like a bike shop:  Spaces are used in ways that even most of us who've lived in postage stamp-sized apartments would have trouble imagining.  On the other hand, in DUMBO, some attempt is made to create space (or, at least the illusion of it) in the front area.  Also, the front of DUMBO is well-lit, both from the front windows as well as the light fixtures.  Even the image of such light is not possible in the more bunkerlike space at Long Island City.

As much as I enjoyed volunteering at the DUMBO spot, I think I'm going to continue helping out in Long Island CIty.  For one thing, it's much closer to where I live.  Also, the folks who run it--and those who volunteer--seem to be a more diverse group, even if there are fewer of them than there are at DUMBO.  I think it has to do with the way the neighborhood around the latter site has become chic in the way Soho was about twenty years ago (before it became the world's first mall with cast-iron architecture).  DUMBO is trying to appeal to a crowd that, I think, reads New York magazine when it isn't going to craft and food fairs.  In contrast, the neighborhood around the Long Island City site is still mostly industrial--as DUMBO was about thirty years ago--although new condo towers have opened nearby.

Oh, and I can't forget that the folks in Long Island CIty know from music.  It's always playing==everything from ''60's  rock classics, 70's funk and soul classics to rap from all over the world.

Finally, the Long Island CIty center has a greater selection of bikes: everything from a custom tandem to an early Trek carbon fiber bike, a couple of Peugeot PX-10s and a bike that looks like an imitation of a Flying Pigeon. (Why anyone would imitate such a bike is beyond me.)

And then there was an English three=speed with a missing head emblem and chainguard, but this chainring:

A First, But Not A Latest

According to sociologist E. Digby Baltzell, Philadelphia is a city of "firsts", Boston a city of "bests" and New York a city of "latests".

The last part of Baltzell's observation makes perfect sense if you ride along the Ocean Parkway bike lane, as I did today.

Many histories, and the New York City Parks Department, maintain that it is the country's first bike path.  Whether or not such a claim can be made for it, the five-mile ribbon of asphalt and concrete is almost certainly the oldest bike lane continuously designated for the purpose.

Baltzell's observation might well explain why I rode the entire length of Ocean Parkway in both directions and saw only one other cyclist.  Granted, the temperature reached 34C (94F), but one might expect to see people--whether or not they are "serious" cyclists--riding to Coney Island, at the southern end of the path.

But I rode in the morning, before the worst of the heat baked the path, so I would have expected to see more riders.  

Aside from the heat, I think one reason why there was only one other cyclist--and there weren't many more when I rode the path about two weeks ago--is that the younger and hipper cyclists are riding the newer bike lanes, like the ones along the East River in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and along the Hudson on the West Side of Manhattan.

Also, there are no Citibike ports anywhere near the Ocean Parkway lane.  The nearest ones, I believe, are at Prospect Park--at its northern end, near the Brooklyn Museum and Library.  Ocean Parkway begins at the southwestern end of the park, about two miles (three kilometers) away.  So, if one were to take a Citibike from the Prospect Park park, he or she would not be able to return it in time:  One-time renters must bring the bike back within half an hour, while those with annual memberships have 45 minutes.  Even if one is in shape to ride a major race, he or she would have great difficulty in riding to Coney Island (or even halfway there) and back, especially given that Citibikes are not built for speed.

In any event, I hope that the Ocean Parkway path is not forgotten.  I suspect that Citibike ports will be installed along its length, and in Coney Island itself.

The George Zimmarman Verdict

Alert:  Today's post has nothing to do with bicycling--not directly, anyway.  But I thought the issue was too important not to write about.

Being a trans woman, I know what it's like to be presumed guilty simply for being who and what you are.  And i have had people--including someone I mentioned recently on my other blog--use that aginst me.  And he got off nearly scot-free.

When a jury acquitted George Zimmerman in the death of Trayvon Martin, the storyline included everything in the previous paragraph, except for the trans part.  Zimmerman saw a black kid in a hoodie and figured he must have been up to no good.  And he knew that in an almost entirely white and very conservative part of Florida, many people would share his assumption of Martin's gullt.

To be fair, the jury--which consisted entirely of women, some of whom were mothers--expressed justifiable doubts about what they were hearing in both sides of the case.  Beause Trayvon Martin is dead, there is much that we will never know; whatever happened, George Zimmerman was probably not in a normal state of mind, so even if he was being entirely honest, his testimony (let alone his lawyer's) could not be entirely accurate.

Even if he were in a "normal" state of mind--which would have been all but impossible in such circumstances--I would still have doubts about his account of events. However, even if I or anyone else were to discount such doubts, I still believe that Zimmerman should have been indicted for something, if only manslaughter.

When I was in ROTC (!) a long time ago, I underwent firearms training.  The instructor--who, I was convinced at the time, could have ended up in prison instead of the Army had the screw been turned just a little differently--told us something I never forgot:  "If a gun is in your hand and a bullet comes out of it, you are responsible for where that bullet goes and what it does."

In other words, he said, if your gun fires "accidentally", you are responsible for whatever damage or loss of life results.  "If the bullet from your gun hits me, it'd better kill me," he warned.  "Otherwise, I'll find you wherever you are and finish the job."

That is not only the best (well, only)  instruction I ever got on firearms safety; it's one of the best lessons on personal responsibility anyone ever gave me.  

And so, whether Trayvon Martin was on top or on bottom, or wherever George Zimmerman aimed or didn't, he was responsible for Trayvon Martin's death. Perhaps the jurors didn't understand that, or whether or how they could have voted for a manslaughter convicion.  Or they may have simply been exhausted.  Whatever the case, justice was not done for Trayvon Martin and his family.

Le Quatorze Juillet: Victoire Sur Ventoux, Mais Pas Pour Un Cyclist Francais

Aujourd'hui, c'est la fete nationale francaise:  le jour de la prise de la Bastille.

If any Francophones or Francophiles are reading this, I apologize that I don't have diacritical marks on my keyboard!

Anyway, I spent le quatorze juillet in France four times, two of them on my bicycle.

In France, this date is always one of the most important in the Tour de France.  Or, at least, it's one of the dates on which the French pay most attention to the race.  Perhaps the best way I can describe it for Americans is this:  Imagine that, on the Fourth of July (le jour d'independence american), there was one baseball game.  Imagine what it would be like if most of the nation (or what seems to be most people in the nation) watched it before enjoying barbecues with families and friends and fireworks displays in their communities.

On all four of the years in which I was in France for le quatorze juillet, I was also there for le quatre.  On two of those occasions, I was in Paris and there were celebrations of American independence.  (The French--even Parisians--don't hate Americans, contrary to what you've heard.  It's more complicated than that.)  But in the other two years, when I was in les pays, enjoying the festivities of le quatorze made up for The Fourth simply being another day.  Well, almost:  The Fourth also happens to be my birthday!

Anyway, in the glory years of French cycling--when riders like Jacques Anquetil, Bernard Thevenet and Bernard Hinault won the Tour--a win in the stage on the 14th was almost expected.  And, in recent years, when the races has been won by cyclists from Spain, Italy, Colombia, the US (Greg LeMond still has his titles.), Germany and--helas (if you're French, anyway)--Britian, French cycling fans could console themselves with a victory--or the prospect of one--by a French rider on Bastille Day.

However, this year, it was not to be.  However, today's stage had an interesting outcome, in its own way.  Chris Froome--a Briton by way of Kenya and South Africa--won today's stage, which ended on the Tour's most difficult climb, Mont Ventoux.


Froome spoils French party by omnisport-uk

Ventoux is inherently a difficult (rated hors de categorie) climb.  But what makes it even more difficult for Tour riders is the fact that, unlike climbs like Galibier, les deux Alpes and Peyresorde (all of which I've done!), Ventoux is not part of a mountain chain.  It seems to come out of nowhere, so it's a shock to riders who've spent the day on the rolling-to-flat terrain that surrounds it.

One of the reasons why Froome's victory on Ventoux is so interesting is that the mountain claimed another famous British rider.  In 1967, Tom Simpson become the first cyclist from Albion to wear the yellow jersey, signifying the race leader, in the history of the Tour.  Some believed he would win the whole race, as he'd had an enormously successful racing season.

However, in pedalling up Ventoux, he suffered a stroke that killed him.  An autopsy revealed--to the surprise of few--that drugs played a part in his death.

There is a memorial to Simpson, and every Tour cyclist pays tribute--whether by waving his cap or with some other gesture--to the rider whose death, some argued, set back the hopes and dreams of British racers for at least a generation.

Three years after his death, one of Simpson's former teammates (on the French Peugeot team) won the stage that ended on le geant de Provence and paid tribute to him.

He was, arguably (Well, I won't argue, anyway!), the greatest racing cyclist who ever lived:  Eddy Mercx.

Dodging The Rain For The Light

The past two days have included bouts of rain.  A deluge bore upon us just after I woke up this morning; after that, it seemed to rain every two hours or so.

This afternoon, I decided to do one of my "playing chicken with the rain" rides.  I got on Tosca (She really seems to like those rides!) and dared the skies to spill their wrath on me.


After riding cirlicues of cul-de-sacs and alleys around La Guardia Airport and the World's Fair Marina, I pedaled up the incline from downtown Flushing to Bayside Avenue, which took me to the eponymous neighborhood--and one of my favorite cycling destinations in Queens:

Fort Totten, as I've mentioned in other posts, was built at the point where the East River (which separates Queens from Manhattan, the Bronx and Rikers Island) opens into the Long Island Sound.  Some say that this is where Gatsby's "North Shore" begins.  

It offers one of those "I don't believe I'm in New York City" views.  The great thing about it is that it's as wonderful on a day like today as it is when the sun is shining and there isn't a cloud in the sky.

Some would call the light I saw today "subdued" or even "melancholy".  I wouldn't disagree with either, and enjoy both aspects of it.  In a way, it's rather soothing, even forgiving:  It reminds me, just vaguely, of the light that illunminated many days (especially in the early spring or fall) I lived in Paris and some of the time I spent in Prague.  Although it's a light you in which you can immerse yourself after long periods of difficulty, it is not merely soothing for it brings a lot of things into relief in a way that most people (I include myself) could never do on their own.

As for "playing chicken with the rain":  I felt a few raindrops as I took the photo.  And a few more whisked me as I rushed through Jackson Heights.  But, at the end of the ride, most of the moisture on my skin was my own sweat:  As you might expect, the day was very humid.

Christo, Bike Burritos and a Peugeot P8

By now, you've seen the Bike Burritos I attach to Arielle and Tosca when I don't need a larger bag.

Now I'm going to ask a question you'd probably never ask: What might a bike look like if it were finished to match my Burritos?

Well, it's not an exact match, but you get the idea.  I saw the bike parked in Tribeca, near the home of the Film Festival named for the neighborhood.

If you look closely, you realize the bike wasn't painted in that pattern:

The "finish" seems to be some kind of contact- or wall-paper wrapped around the frame tubes.

From the unwrapped parts of the bike, I guessed that it's a Peugeot P8 from around 1983.  I feel confident in saying that because I assembled dozens of them while working at Highland Park Cyclery.

Now I know what one of those bikes might have looked like if the creator of the Bike Burrito and Christo had collaborated!

Croix de....?

Just a couple of pedal strokes away from my apartment, I chanced upon this:

I don't know whether the two crossed posts were intended to prop up the wires or the light fixture.  Perhaps they were intended as a monument to something.  Whatever their purpose, they looked ominious against a sky ready to drop its wrath.

For a moment, I recalled a cross I reached (but didn't bear) on bicycle:

Photo by Mute*

Yes, that is the Croix de Fer on top of Mount Royal in Montreal.  It's visible from just about anywhere in the city. (At least, it seemed to be when I last rode there, about a dozen years ago.)  The 1974 World Championships were held in Montreal; a Belgian racer said the climb up Mount Royal was one of the most difficult climbs he encountered in his career.

Said Belgian won the race.  Three guesses as to who he was...

(Yes, Eddy Mercx.)

Now, I wonder what the "cross" in my neighborhood was made from.  I don't think it's fer.