The ‘Bike Man’ in Washington

 Earl Blumenauer has done, possibly, more than any other politician to encourage cycling in the United States. Representing a district around Portland, Oregon (where else?) since 1996, he is responsible for, among other things, the bike lane on Pennsylvania Avenue—the location of the White House.

His wins include gaining tax benefits for bicycles commuters. On the other hand, a bill that would have provided subsidies for eBikes was yanked from the Inflation Reduction Act at the last minute.

In his interview with David Zipper, Blumenauer revealed that the loss (which he regards as temporary)of the eBike subsidies was a result of lobbyists.  

What we in the cycling community often forget is that the largest companies in the bicycle industry are minnows next to the whales and sharks of other industries.  Some of those corporations, particularly in the energy, automotive and tech industries, provide financial and other support to alternative-energy sources and electric cars.  Of course those corporations are acting in self-interest or, more precisely, their stockholders’ demands.  

Perhaps they see the current boom in bikes and eBikes in the same way as the ‘70’s Bike Boom.  But, as Blumenauer points out that “Boom” was really just a fad that petered out in part because no meaningful policies came from it.

Perhaps one day soon investors in alternative energy and electric cars will see that those enterprises are related to bicycles and eBikes—and Representative Blumenauer will once again be vindicated.

Why They Left Out Bicycles

On Sunday, the US Senate passed the Inflation Reduction Act. Perhaps not surprisingly, the vote split along party lines, with the 50 Democrats voting for it and 50 Republicans rejecting it.  Vice President Kamala Harris, a Democrat, broke the tie.

As I understand it, the Inflation Reduction Act is a shrink-wrapped, rebranded version of what Biden and other Democrats actually wanted. The fact that some things that were included in the Build Back Better Act, which passed in the House of Representatives, were omitted from the IRA is no more an oversight than calling it the "Inflation Reduction Act" was not an attempt to make the energy- and environmentally-related aspects of it more palatable to the Senate's two most right-leaning Democrats, Kirsten Sinema and Joe Manchin.

One key omission were tax breaks and other subsidies for bicycles and other two-wheeled vehicles that are powered wholly or in part by human energy. The original Build Back Better proposal included a $900 tax credit for the purchase of an electric bicycle and a pre-tax benefit to help commuters with the costs of bicycling to work.  

That tax credit was available to cyclists before 2017, when Republicans repealed it as part of the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act.  The Build Back Better Act would have essentially restored it but I think Chuck Schumer, the Democratic leader of the Senate, who worked with Manchin on the IRA, realized that he had to take out some of its "greener" parts to get Manchin and Sinema to agree to it.

I say that it's unfortunate, not only because I am a cyclist.  As Harvard Kennedy Center visiting  fellow David Zipper told Alex Dougherty of POLITICO, "We need not just to shift people from gasoline to electric cars. We need people to shift from cars, period." But, as he points out, there's nothing in IRA that "makes that process easier or faster or more likely to happen."

Any piece of legislation that ostensibly has anything to do with the environment or energy but omits bicycles is a bit like a bouillabaisse without fish or a caponata without eggplant. 

Fuel For Thought

Yesterday, my brother told me he'd spent over $100 to fill his gas tank.

On one hand, I sympathise with him.  For one thing, he is my brother. (This is what age does:  I didn't say, "in spite of the fact that he's my brother." LOL)  For another, he lives in an area that's more car-centric than my hometown of New York.  Even if that weren't the case, he'd rely on his car because medical conditions constrain his physical activity, at least somewhat.

On the other hand, I remind myself that petrol prices are only now surpassing levels I saw when I first set foot (actually, bike tires) in Europe, back in 1980.  I could get into a rant about how playing nice with Saudi Arabia and giving tax breaks to oil companies wouldn't have continued to keep down the price at the pump forever, but it would be just that--a rant.  Others with far more expertise in national and global politics and energy markets can explain it better, or at least in more depth, than I ever could, even if I were to hijack the focus of this blog (really, it exists).

But what my brother told me is nonetheless relevant and can perhaps be best illustrated by something I've just come across.  In Electrek, Micah Toll points out that at the current average cost of gasoline in the US--around 5 dollars a gallon (around a euro a liter)--it would take only five fills of an F-150 truck's tank to buy an entry-level electric bike.  Or, it would take someone fueling an evil SUV six times, while a sober, sedate sedan would need to be topped off seven to eight times to buy a basic e-bike like Ancheers being sold on Amazon--and driven by many delivery workers here in New York.

Photo from Electrek

The old adage "your mileage may vary" applies in more ways than one. If you live here in New York or in California, where gasoline averages more than $6 a  gallon, it would take even fewer fills to equal the cost of an ebike.

Of course, a regular bicycle, especially a used one, can be had for less, even as we enter a third year of COVID pandemic-induced shortages.  I don't know whether the gas-bike equation I've described will persuade many people would persuade to give up driving, even for short local trips.  But it's certainly food, or fuel, for thought.  So is this:  Once gas is burned, it's gone.  A bike, however, can last for years, or even decades.

 

Not Making Money In The Bike Shop? Blame Schwinn, He Says

 When I worked in bike shops, friends and family members couldn’t understand how I made so little money when bikes cost so much.

Mind you, that was when few bikes had four-figure price tags, let alone the five-figure tags attached to some of today’s machines.

I would try to explain that small local shops didn’t make much profit—and, as often as not, none at all on bikes themselves, especially high-end bikes.  For one thing, it’s expensive to run a shop:  To do it, you need a lot of space, which is pricey in any good location for a shop. Then, a shop needs fixtures specifically for displaying and working on bikes, as well as tools and machines.  And a shop owner has to pay to keep the lights on—and keep the tax authorities happy.*

On top of all of that, the shop has to have inventory, as some shop owners learned the hard way during the pandemic.  In pre-pandemic times, some bikes could sit in display racks for months, or even years.  That wasn’t as much of a problem back when, say, one year’s Peugeot or Raleigh wasn’t so different from the previous or following year’s models, and component manufacturers stuck with the same designs for decades. But the bicycle industry now follows the planned-obsolescence business model that prevails in other industries, like the automotive.  That means a bike that doesn’t sell at full retail price by the end of the season has to be significantly marked down if it is to sell at all.  Because of the planned-obsolescence model, some manufacturers don’t allow retailers to return bikes, and penalize dealers for not meeting sales quotas.

The business model I’ve described gives bike companies a lot of power over shops, especially small ones.  Among other things, it gives companies like Specialized and Giant the ability to mandate the amount of merchandise shops must purchase, and at what price.  It also gives those companies the ability to control retail prices.  That is why you won’t find much price variation from shop to shop among models from the major brands—except, perhaps, during end-of-season sales, which usually involve the extreme sizes and colors that weren’t popular.

What all of this means is that when dealers have to pay high prices and are told they can sell at a price that yields a relatively small margin—from which they have to pay the costs of running a shop—they have to keep those costs down wherever they can. As often as not, that means low wages for shop employees.

In times past, shops made most of their money from repairs or accessories, helmets, clothing, shoes and gloves and, to a lesser degree, from parts.  Now, though, most of those items are available at significantly lower prices from online retailers.  One shop owner lamented that people came to his shop to try on shoes and helmets they later bought online.

According to Ray Keener, who’s been in the bike industry for about as long as I’ve been alive, one bike manufacturer had much to do with making the current situation.  

To people under 40, Schwinn is just another bike brand sold in Target and Wal-Mart. But, for three decades or so after World War II, it was the only American bike marque with even a pretense of quality.  This gave it the power—upheld in several court cases—to control, not only prices, but what shops could and couldn’t sell.  This, he argues, also effectively gave Schwinn the ability to depress bike shop wages.

And that is why the Bicycle Industry Employers Association’s guarantee of a $32K annual income to mechanics who complete their training can be touted as progress, even if it’s not a living wage in most American cities!

*—Sometimes, there are also “unofficial” taxes—like the one by a waste-hauler who told the owner of a shop I patronized, “You will use our services.”

New Law In Old Dominion

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I'm critical, sometimes even cynical, about bicycle-related laws--especially when they are presented as being in the interest of "safety."

So when I heard that a new law is to take effect 1 July in Virginia, I thought, "What now?" 

According to the new law in Old Dominion, drivers are required to change lanes when passing cyclists unless the lane is "very wide."  It also stipulates that two cyclists are allowed to ride abreast of each other if a single is approaching.  These rules apply only to regular streets and roads; when cyclists are in a designated bike lane, neither they nor drivers will need to do anything different from what they do now.

It will be interesting to see the effects of this new law.  I think requiring cars to move over makes sense, but I wonder about cyclists riding next to each other with trucks passing at 50 or more MPH.  If cycling in Virginia (which I haven't done) is anything like cycling in Florida (of which I've done a fair amount), the scenario I described wouldn't be uncommon, especially in rural and other remote areas, where the only road might be a county or state road.

Entirely predictable were some of the ignorant comments that followed a news story announcing the new law.  They were full of stereotypes about cyclists and complaints that cyclists were taking "their" roads that they "paid for."  One said that cyclists should be taxed--apparently not realizing that bicycle infrastructure is usually paid through transportation funds, which come from the same pot of tax money into which we all pay.  Still someone else said bicycles should be allowed only on designated bike paths, sidewalks and roads on which the speed limit is not greater than 25 MPH.  

What those commenters don't seem to realize is that today, a greater number of cyclists than ever are pedaling for transportation, and not solely for recreation.  The new law--at least part of it--seems to show some cognizance of that fact.

  

May Day For Today's Workers

Today is May Day.

This day was, and continues to be, a celebration of Spring, especially in northern European cultures.  Some believe it's rooted in a Roman festival for Flora, the goddess of flowers.  

To this day, throughout Italy, Calendimaggio is celebrated with performances, rituals and gifts that are believed to have their roots in Roman celebratory customs.  And, in France, individuals and workers' are allowed to sell lily of the valley flowers--which Charles IX received as a lucky charm and he, in turn, offered every year to the ladies of the court--tax-free. Perhaps the most elaborate celebrations of this day are found in England and Scotland, where children still perform Maypole dances, a "May Queen" is crowned and traditional poems are recited and songs sung.

In 1889, this day became International Workers' Day, celebrated in some countries as Labor Day.  This date was chosen for its proximity to the anniversary of the Haymarket Massacre, in which a Chicago labor protest rally turned into a riot.   The protestors were calling for, among other things, an eight-hour workday. 

The protestors, and those on whose behalf they were protesting, were mainly blue-collar workers:  factory laborers, longshoremen, construction workers and the like.  Many of those workers--and demonstrators--were immigrants.

Most of those jobs have since disappeared.  And the, ahem, complexions of the immigrants have changed*.  So the sorts of people who would have been working in the factories and on the docks are now making deliveries, whether of building materials on Amazon vans, dinner via electric bikes or documents from a Wall Street brokerage to a midtown legal firm via bicycle.  Dmitry Bondrenko seemed to understand as much when he created this poster:

The "alley cat" race announced in the poster was a benefit for Emily Glos, a Toronto bike messenger who was struck by a car. She survived, but a broken wrist and elbow kept her off her bike, and from making a living, for two months.

*-I recently learned that when Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the first minimum-wage legislation into law, he got Southern Democrats--at that time, the largest bloc in the party--to agree to it by excluding farm and domestic workers--who, in the South, were mainly black. Also, that exclusion garnered support from the large corporate growers in places like California's Central Valley, where most workers were Mexican migrants.

I also learned, not too long ago, that the roots of South Africa's Aprartheid laws were sown by the gold and mining industries, and were designed, in part, that workers in those industries--most of whom were Black--would be virtual slaves.

Shelby Cycle Museum

More than two years ago, I wrote about a municipality that was best known for its epomymous bicycle company.

From 1925 until 1953, Shelby Bicycles were manufactured in the Ohio city for which they were named.  While most of their wares were sold under other names, such as Goodyear, Firestone and AMF, others bore the company's name and are prized by collectors for their stylishness.  One was even ridden to a transcontinental record.

While some manufacturers, such as Schwinn, Raleigh and Peugeot, were major employers, it can be argued that none was as integral to its community as the Shelby Cycle Company was to its town.

Restored 1938 Shelby. Photo by Aaron W. Legand

At the time I wrote my earlier post, the Shelby Cycle Historical Society, a tax-exempt organization, was forming and seeking members.  On Tuesday (perhaps appropriately, the day after Labor Day), it received a grant to create the Shelby Bicycle Museum on the grounds of the original Shelby Cycle factory.

I can't help but to wonder how many other bicycle "company towns" existed late in the 19th, and early in the 20th, Centuries. In those days, bike manufacturers were smaller and their markets were mainly local: No giant (with a capital or small "g") manufacturer or conglomerate dominated the industry.

Who Owns The Road In Gaborone?

I own the road:  I pay road tax.

I've heard some version of this argument over the years.  What drivers often forget is that those of us who don't drive are paying all of the same taxes as those who use their cars to get to the corner store.  As I pointed out to someone who accused me of taking "his" parking space, the only tax I don't pay that a driver pays is the one levied on gasoline.  But, in a sense, I pay for it, as other taxes, at least to some degree, subsidize the relatively low cost of petrol here in the US, just as the deductions from my paychecks help to pay for road building and maintenance.

The "I pay, I own" argument is even more emphatic, or vehement, in those places where a newly-emergent middle class is forsaking two wheels and pedals in favor of four wheels and gas pedals.  That, of course, was the story of Chinese cities early in this century.  Now it seems to be the narrative in Gaborone, the capital of Botswana.

Whereas most people rode bikes to school or work just a few years ago, now the bicycle has a double stigma:  It is seen as archaic and something that you use only if you're poor.  

I've never been to Gaborone, but according to BBC correspondent Sharon Tshipa, it's "the worst place in the world to ride a bike."  Not only are the drivers as reckless as the worst kinds of teenagers, they are quite open in expressing their hostility toward cyclists.  Some even threaten or promise to mow down riders.

These dangers to bicycle riders’ physical safety and mental well-being are compounded by hazards to their internal medical condition. Gaborone has some of the world’s worst air quality.  The sheer volume of vehicular traffic would, by itself, be enough to degrade the city’s environment.  But a particular quality of the city’s fleet makes things worse.  While some new cars are imported from neighboring South Africa, many more used vehicles come from other countries, where they failed to meet emission standards.

Whether or not Gaborone is the worst place to cycle, it’s sad to see people forsake their bikes, and disturbing that such hostility has developed against remaining cyclists.  From what I understand, some Chinese cities are re-discovering the bicycle.  Perhaps Gaborone will do likewise one day.

Who's Paying Their "Fair Share"?

Sometimes a motorist's animosity toward bicycle riders stems from a negative experience with a scofflaw cyclist--or one who is following the safest and most sensible practices but somehow manages to inconvenience said driver.  Other times it comes from our actual or perceived "privileged" status:  While many of us are indeed better-educated and younger (I am, in spirit!) than the population generally, there are also some who pedal because, for whatever reasons, they can't drive.  

Notice a word I used in the previous paragraph:  "perceived".  Perceptions, as we all know, are not the same thing as reality.  More than once, I have had non-cyclists berate me and other cyclists because of inaccurate notions about us.  

I think now of a time when, on a narrow Brooklyn street, a man driving just behind me wanted to park in a space I was passing at that moment.  He leaned on his horn; I glanced back at him and lipped, "Excuse me."  Then he let out a stream of profanities and what sounded like a threat. 

I turned back and said, "Excuse me, sir?"

Then he went into a rant about how careless cyclists are because we "get to use the same streets but don't have to pay for them."  I asked him to explain himself.  "I have to pay all sorts of taxes to maintain these streets."

"I do, too.  We all do, whether or not we drive. All of that is funded from what's deducted from our paychecks--or what you pay if you're an independent business owner."

He had the frustrated look of someone whose anger had, against his will, been defused.  "Yeah, but I'm still paying more taxes than you."

"Probably not.  Do you have kids?  A mortgage? Any loans?"

He looked confused.


"I am a single renter.  And I can't claim the deductions that some people claim. I don't get those big refunds I hear about from other people--if I get a refund at all."

He actually seemed to be listening to me. "The only tax that you pay, and I don't, is for the gas in your car.  But even there, I pay, too, because the price of gas is subsidized.  Why do you think we don't pay 10 dollars a gallon, like they do in France and Germany?"

From there,  our exchange became less acrimonious, and I wished him well.

 

I thought about that encounter, again, when I came across a letter to the editor containing the "If they want to use our roads, let them pay for it!" canard.  It's amazing how the misconception that we don't pay our "fair share" still exists.

What bothered me almost as much is the editor's response:  That Oregon cyclists are indeed paying their share with the bicycle tax that was imposed two years ago.

What was that about two wrongs not making a right?

Citizens and Business Owners

A motorist once accused me and other cyclists of using "for free" the things he and other non-cyclists pay for.  I pointed out that he pays only one tax that I don't pay:  for gasoline.  Roads and other infrastructure are not, as he and others believe, wholly funded by that levy on fuel.  In fact, in most US states--including New York--most of the money for roads comes from general taxes, whether at the local, state or federal level.

In essence, I was telling that driver that I am as much of a citizen as he is, and that cyclists pay their share as much as anybody does.  If anything, we are taxed more heavily because motorists can often deduct the expenses of owning and operating their vehicles.

Now, if cyclists are citizens, just as motorists are, what does that make bicycle shop owners?

Business owners.  Mostly, small business owners.

That is the point made by several bike emporium proprietors in a letter to Washington, DC Mayor Muriel Bowser.  In it, they point out that their interest in Vision Zero--which, they believe, Bowser's administration has been slow to implement--is for the benefit not only of their customers, but also the community as a whole.  They say a few things about themselves that, really, any conscientious small business owner could say:

Bikeshops are active in their communities. Although we compete for the same customers, we share the same goal: put more people on bikes. More people on bikes helps all of us as business owners and the city where our shops are located.

We provide emergency repairs and some of us provide free tool use to get our customers and neighbors moving again.

We donate to local charities.

We create jobs and train young people that have just started working.

We create positive activity in retail corridors.

We create sales tax revenue for the District.

In other words, they're saying that they are serving, not only cyclists, but the Washington DC community as a whole.  That also reinforces the argument I made with the motorist I mentioned at the beginning of this post:  Cyclists are part of the community, too:  We come from "every Ward and all walks of life," in the words of the letter.  We hold the same kinds of jobs, have the same kinds of families, live in the same kinds of places and have all of the same needs as other members of the community.  One of those needs is safety, and the one major difference between us and motorists, or other citizens is--as the writers of the letter point out--we are more vulnerable on the roads.

Oh, and we are customers, not only of bike shops, but the other businesses in their vicinity:  greenmarkets, book sellers, hardware stores, haircutters and beauticians, clothing boutiques, coffee shops, supermarkets and eateries of any and all kinds.  If I owned any of those businesses, I would want my customers to remain safe--and alive. 

Will The Idaho Stop Come To Oregon?

Until recently, I was a disciple of John Forester's "bicycle as vehicle" philosophy.  It's explicated in his "Effective Cycling" book, which--along with the C.O.N.I. manual (which has, possibly, the most beautiful cover illustration of any cycling book)--were my touchstones for cycling.

I haven't looked at the C.O.N.I. manual in a long time.  I'm sure it's still valuable, though some of its specifics might be dated. (To my knowledge, no new edition of the book, at least in English, was published after 1972.)  But I still check out Forester's book on occasion.  Some of its information is dated. That is inevitable, of course:  The book came out about 40 years ago, and, for example, much of the equipment he mentions is no longer made.  But I think his notions about how to cycle in traffic are just as dated.

But they were needed at the time.  As I've related in other posts, many was my commute or training ride in which I would not encounter another cyclist.  Most motorists--which is almost the same thing as saying most adults, as defined by law--didn't ride and regarded the bicycle as a kid's toy.  And if they saw an adult riding, they thought it must be for a bad reason, such as loss of driver's license or inability to afford a car.  The "car is king" attitude was, I believe, even more prevalent than it was now.  Forester was, I think, trying to establish the bicycle as a viable and valid means of transportation for grown-ups in the US.  Four decades ago, that meant cyclists asserting themselves themselves on the road and behaving exactly like drivers in the ways we took lanes, made turns and such.

The conditions at the time also meant that almost no policy-makers were cyclists.  So, whatever laws and policies were created in the name of "safety" were wrongheaded, if not flat-out malicious.  Thus, while folks like Forester advocated for more enlightened rules, they knew that they would be a long time a'coming, if they ever came at all.  Cyclists asserting their rights as operators of vehicles therefore seemed like the best way to "establish" cycling, if you will, in the US.

Now, I'm not sure that drivers' attitudes toward cyclists have changed much.  If anything, I think some have grown more hostile becuase they feel bike lanes are taking away "their" traffic lanes, and because they have the misinformed notion that we use roadways and other infrastructure without paying for it. In fact, a driver parking in Brooklyn (at the formoer site of the library I frequented in my childhood, no less!) made that accusation as he shouted other fallacies and epithets at me.  I waited for him; he probably expected me to punch him in the nose.  But I calmly informed him that the only tax he pays that I don't pay is on gasoline.  I don't know whether he was more surprised by what I said or my demeanor.

Anyway, while drivers might be hostile for different reasons than they were four decades ago, there are some changes in the wind.  There are, at least in a few places, a few policymakers who cycle to their offices, and perhaps elsewhere.  And at least a few of the drivers I encounter have ridden a bike, say, within the last month.  So there is a small, but growing recognition, that while bicycles aren't the lawless hooligans some believe us to be, we also can't behave exactly like motor vehicles and live to tell about it.

That bikes aren't the same as cars is a point made by Jonathan Maus, the editor/publisher of Bike Portland.  In an excelllent article he published the other day, he uses that point to advocate for something that has become one of my pet causes, if you will, as a cyclist:  the Idaho Stop.

As I've mentioned in other posts, the Idaho Stop is when you treat a red signal as a "stop" sign and a "stop" sign as a "yield" sign.  In essence, it means that you don't have to come to a complete stop at an intersection unless traffic is crossing. That improves our safety immensely because if we can cross before the light turns green, we get out in front of whatever traffic might approach from behind us, as well as oncoming traffic--which keeps us from being hit by a turning vehicle.

Maus wrote his article because a similar law is up for vote in the Oregon state senate.  Governor Asa Hutchinson recently signed a similar law in Arkansas, and Utah is considering something like it.  A few municipalities in the US as well as the city of Paris have enacted similar policies during the past decade.  But it's called "The Idaho Stop" because the Gem State has had it on the books since 1982, and for about a quarter-century, it was the only such law in the United States.

Let's hope that Jonathan Maus's words move the legislators of Oregon.  Let's also hope that as Oregon goes, so go New York, Connecticut, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida and...well, you get the idea.

Taxes Were The Least of It

Yesterday was Tax Day in the US.  Except for those who are getting big refunds, nobody was happy.

Some of us look for good news on the day.  Alas, not much was to be found.  Two items made the woes of owing (and, yes, I was one of the people who owed--thank you, Donald!) trivial in comparison.

One of those stories is happening here in the US.  "Retrogrouch" confirmed rumors that I'd heard for some time:  Rebecca Twigg, one of the greatest American female cyclists--actually, one of the greatest American cyclists--is homeless.  She doesn't even have a bicycle anymore.

Of course, it's tragic for anyone to live on the streets, with only ragged blankets, large garbage bags and, if he or she is lucky, a refrigerator box, to protect him or her from cold, wind and rain, along with the dirt and other hazards imposed by other humans.  And Rebecca is not the first elite athlete or other celebrity to end up with nothing of her own and nowhere home.  But her story is especially disturbing because, if you were around during the '80's and '90's, you recall her as someone who "had everything going for her".  Her Olympic medals and other victories brought her endorsement contracts; her looks generated modeling gigs and her intelligence (and hard work) got her into college at age 14.



From the moment she got on a bike as a toddler, she says, she knew she was "born to" ride.  And she exercised that birthright, if you will, to its fullest:  She was as fiercely competitive as she is talented.  Most of us envy people who find their "calling", if you will, before they can even call it that:  the painter who knew he would be creating his life on canvas at age 5; the teacher who knew she'd spend her life in the classroom when she was even younger than the kids she's teaching now; the doctor whose vocation was revealed to him not long after he learned how to read.  

I have known that painter and doctor, both of whom are gone now, and the teacher is a friend who just happens to be granddaughter of my friend Mildred.  Having such a clear vision of their lives at such an early age helped all of them:  They knew what they needed to do and focused on it. 

One difference between them and Rebecca, though, is that they found themselves in professions they could practice for their entire working lives (or, in the case of the painter, his entire life).  None of them (except for the teacher, if she decides to change careers) will ever have to experience something Rebecca, and many other professional athletes, had to endure:  a transition from a life of days structured around sport to the daily routines of a "normal" job or career.

In Rebecca's case, that career was in Information Technology.  She studied it (Computer Science) at Colman College after earning a bachelor's degree in Biology at the University of Washington.  There are people who love that kind of work; others, like Stuart--the Australian fellow with whom I rode in Cambodia--hated it.  I don't know whether Rebecca disliked the work per se or whether she simply couldn't abide being in an office and at a desk. In any case, in spite of her talent and hard work, she seemed to have difficulty in holding down jobs.  Or, perhaps, her trouble came because of her talent and hard work:  She may have simply felt that there was no "victory" at the end of it.

The prospect of not "winning" may also be a reason why she finds it so difficult to accept help.  Perhaps doing so would be an admission of defeat for her.  Also, bicycle racers tend to be rather solitary figures, and even in that world, racers like Rebecca are rather like monks:  Her best event, after all, was the 3000 meter individual pursuit race.

Anyway, I hope her story turns into something better.  I hope the same for la Cathedrale de Notre Dame in Paris.  At least the people in charge of it are already getting, and accepting help in rebuilding after the awful fire it incurred yesterday.  

My friend Michele and I exchanged e-mails about the news. Les francaises sont tres choques--The French are very shocked, she wrote.  To which I replied:  Tout le monde est choque.  La cathedrale est un tresor du monde--The whole world is shocked. The cathedral is a treasure of the world.



I mean, what building besides the Eiffel Tower and, perhaps, the Sacre Coeur de Montmartre, is more embematic of the City of Light?  I still recall, during my second day in Paris (more years ago than I'll admit), sitting in the square by the Notre Dame and listening to the bell on a warm June day.  I felt like I'd become, at that moment, part of a city that has become so much a part of me:  New York is the only city I know better.  

At least it seems that more of the cathedral can be saved than officials originally thought.  President Macron has vowed to rebuild it, and wealthy magnates as well as more anonymous citizens are already donating money.  However the work is done, the real restoration will not be on the structures themselves:  Rather, it will be a healing of the minds and spirits that have been so moved by its grandeur, the light coruscating through its stained-glass windows or the views from its towers--or simply by images of those towers, windows and the spire.  



Sir Kenneth Clark, often called the high priest of Art History, once said that he could not define "civilization" in abstract terms.  But, as he turned to the Notre Dame in his famous "Civilization" series, he declared, "I know I'm looking at it."

For me, a non-religious person, that's reason enough to care about the Notre Dame.   Taxes are just a pimple on the face of my life, which is part of the multitude which, I hope, have helped to contribute in whatever small ways to civilization or "the human project" or whatever you want to call it.

Lower Bicycle Taxes--In Belgium?

I've bashed the US President more than a few times on this blog.  But, to be fair to El Cheeto Grande, I must point out that he isn't the only one who's come up with a completely pointless tax on bicycles.  Oregon imposed their own state tax a little less than two years ago; other jurisdictions either have done, or are considering, something similar.

Of course, in the US, about three generations of adults didn't cycle. So, we are just starting to understand that the bicycle is a viable means of transportation as well as enjoyable means of recreation and exercise rather than just a kid's toy.

On the other hand, Europeans still see the bicycle as I've described it.  In some countries, masses of people never traded two wheels for four; in others (or in parts of some countries), the auto-centric culture hasn't persisted as long as it's had its grip on America.  Thus, to people to ride again, and safely, Europeans can tap into memory, if you will, that hasn't gone dormant or extinct.

Such is the case in Belgium.  That country has more bicycle-related events, from races to randonees to rallies, and more talented cyclists, per capita than just about any other nation.  I haven't spent a lot of time there, but it's easy to see that bicycles and velocipedic culture are never very far from Belgians' consciousness.

That might be the reason why some law makers over there understand that the way to build useful and sensible infrastructure, preserve a country's bicycle industries and, well, encourage people to ride, is not to impose more taxes on bikes, whether at the retail level or when they enter the country from someplace else.  

Bicycles parked by medieval houses in Ghent, Belgium

At least, that's the impression I have after the Belgian parliament voted through a bill to impose a lower sales tax for bicycles and e-bikes than the current Value Added Tax levied there and in other European Union nations.  If approved by the European Commission, the surcharge for bicycles and e-bikes would be lowered from the standard VAT of 21 percent to 6 percent.

Belgian politician Laurent Devin has been championing such a measure for some time.  Other political leaders agree, including Ahmed Laaouej, agree.  He  leads the Belgian Socialist Party, which happens to be the second-largest party in Belgium's parliament.

While some EU member states have been able to reduce the VAT on bicycle repairs, no other country has attempted such a widespread reduction on the taxes levied on two-wheelers.  In 2017, 445,000 bicycles were sold in the country, of which 218,000 were e-bikes--in a country of 11.35 million people.  On a per capita basis, that is roughly the same number of bikes sold in the US, but Belgians, like other Europeans, tend to keep and ride their bikes longer than Americans, so fewer are first-time bike buyers than in the US.

Performance: The End Of An Era?

When I first became a dedicated cyclist, as a teenager, I discovered the mail-order catalogues.  They had all sorts of exotic bikes and parts, most of which I couldn't afford and weren't found in the local bike shops.  I pored over those catalogues the way other kids devoured comic books or teen magazines--or the way some young person in a remote village might indulge him or her self in magazines filled with images of the latest fashions from New York or Paris.

Before the '70's Bike Boom, there was Gene Porteusi's Cyclopedia, that printed cornucopia of, seemingly, all things bike-related.  He was one of the old-timers who kept the flame flickering during the Dark Ages of cycling in the US.  

Somehow I don't think much of anything changed in his catalogues during their history.  For most of his career, he was dealing with a small audience--few American adults were cycling during the quarter-century or so after World War II--and a limited selection of goods.  Actually, in the later years of Cyclopedia's run, he limited his selection:  He didn't offer any Japanese parts, not even a SunTour derailleur, even after people started to choose them for custom-built frames.

For making those wonderful V-series and Cyclone derailleurs, and other great stuff from the Land of the Rising Sun, widely available, much of the credit goes to the mail-order companies that launched in the wake of the Bike Boom.  I am thinking now of Bike Warehouse, which later became Bike Nashbar; Bikecology, renamed Supergo; and, possibly the 800-pound gorilla among them:  Performance Bike.

Well, it looks like Nashbar is the last catalogue standing.  Well, not exactly:  Nashbar still exists, but I reckon that hardly anybody shops from its catalogue anymore. For all I know, they might not even have a printed catalogue these days:  I'd guess that, save for their outlet store, all of their sales are on the web.

And the web, ironically, is one of the things that destroyed the other two.  Actually, Performance took over Supergo.  But now it looks like Performance is nigh:  Its parent company filed for bankruptcy protection last fall, and all of its retail stores will close next month.  In addition, over 100 staff members have been laid off at Performance's Chapel Hill, North Carolina headquarters.

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Although you could buy stuff from Performance's website, it never seemed to generate business in the same way that other retailers' websites did for them.  Plus, the web made it easier to order from overseas retailers when they offered better prices or the exchange rate was favorable. As an example, during the past few years, it's often been cheaper to buy Shimano components--Performance's bread-and-butter, if you will--from UK retailers like Ribble or Chain Reaction because, in addition to the favorable exchange rates, US customers benefited from not having to pay the value-added tax (VAT) levied on purchases made by native or European Union customers.

The coup de grace for Performance, though, might have been tariffs the Trump administration imposed last year on bikes, e-bikes and products related to them.  An already-reeling Performance was hit with higher overhead costs and, from what I've read, had no choice but to raise prices.  That, of course, would drive away an already-dwindling customer base that was attracted mainly by the company's low prices.

So, for better or worse, we may be witnessing the end of an era: the one of the mail-order catalogue, in the bicycle industry as well as in other businesses.