Riding In Ophelia’s Wake

Yesterday I took La-Vande, my King of Mercia, for a spin to Point Lookout.  The day was delightful—the first full day of sunshine after Hurricane Ophelia. I recently installed fenders on La-Vande, but I didn’t need them as much as I’d anticipated:  the roads and paths weren’t rivers and streams.  The storm’s wake, however, denied me, and everyone else access to Point Lookout Park.  Well, almost everyone:

They climbed the fence And the storm’s wake didn’t stop some intrepid beings from lining up on the nearby soccer field:

Might those birds have invented a new formation?

Beating The Men At Their Game

One of my early posts discussed Beryl Burton.

She was one of the dominant competitive cyclists of her time.  Not one of the dominant female cyclists, mind you:  one of the dominant cyclists.

Whether or not she could beat most male cyclists of her time wasn't a matter of speculation:  It was a settled answer.  Among other things, for two years in the late 1960's, she held the distance record for twelve hours.  Mind you, she didn't beat the old record by a few yards:  Her 277.25 miles was five miles more than any other cyclist, male or female, had ridden over that amount of time.

I am mentioning her in relation to something that only indirectly relates to cycling or, more precisely, women's cycling.  When the US Women's National Team in soccer (football to the rest of the world) won the World Cup in 2015 and 2019, some wondered whether they could beat most men's squads.  That question seemed especially relevant given that the team's star, Megan Rapinoe, grew up playing on boys' teams against other boys’ teams.

This year, the team won its group. Last week, however, for the first time in the history of the tournament, the US Team lost in the Round of 16. While self-styled "patriots" like the ones at Faux, I mean Fox, News and Donald Trump are using the occasion to display their prejudice against women, LGBTQ people and "wokeness," the question remains of whether that team, at its peak, could play against the US men, who haven't had nearly as much success internationally.  Some also wonder whether teams like Sweden's, Japan's and perhaps those of England, France or the Netherlands might be as good as, or better than many men's teams.

Well, such a question is not new. In fact, another women's team answered it a century ago.  

During World War I, large numbers of British men--many of whom just happened to play football--went off to fight. That meant women kept guns, locomotives and other machinery running--and rolling off factory lines. (Think of them as forerunners of "Rosie the Riveter" in World War II USA.) During their lunch and tea breaks, some of those women played pickup games in the factories’ lots.

Some of them became quite good--enough to beat young male apprentices.  Such was the case of the women who worked in the Dick, Kerr and Company factory in the northwestern city of Preston, which had a well-regarded men's professional team.  An office administrator, Alfred Frankland, recognizing their talents and skills, organized them into a team that played exhibitions to raise money for injured servicemembers.

Soon, spectators weren't showing up only out of curiosity:  If nothing else, English fans know when they're seeing good football.  They filled venues like Old Trafford (home of Manchester United), Liverpool's Goodison Park (Everton) and  London's Stamford Bridge (Chelsea).  They beat not only local factory and semi-professional teams, they also took matches from France's national squad during an international tournament in 1920.

Whatever the English fans thought of those women, the sport's governing authorities were not amused.  The following year, the Football Association banned its members from allowing women's teams to use their fields.  Their stated reason:  "[T]he game of football is quite unsuitable for females and should not be encouraged."  Some have speculated that the F.A. feared that the popularity of teams like Dick, Kerr and Company would eat away at the attendance--and profits--of men's teams.

The Dick, Kerr women, undeterred, went on tour--to North America. Upon arrival in Canada, that country also barred them from playing.  The United States--which was experiencing a brief soccer boom (only baseball, bicycle racing and boxing were more popular) proved more receptive, though there were no organized women's teams.  So they played nine games against men's teams of the professional American Soccer League (yes, such a thing existed!).  winning three, losing three and playing to three draws. 

While public reception of them was generally favorable, some  newspaper coverage reflected stereotypes of the time:  One account referred to them as "brawny Amazons" and another was accompanied by ads for corsets, skin cream and dishwashing soap.  Perhaps the worst indignity was this:  The money their games raised was used to cover the expenses of sending the US men's soccer team to the 1924 Olympics in Paris.

But, through such difficulties, the women continued to play, renaming themselves the Preston Ladies in 1926. The F.A. finally lifted its ban in 1971--some six years after the Ladies played their last game.

In the team's history, they compiled a record that I doubt any other team--male, female or otherwise--could boast:  They lost only 24 of the 828 matches they played.  Perhaps most impressive of all was a record set by the team's best-known player.  Lily Parr, a 6 foot chain-smoker "with a kick like a mule" netted 43 goals in her first season.  When she retired three decades later, in 1951, she was believed to have scored 900--many more than any other English soccer player of any gender identity.  In 2002, she would also become the only female player enshrined in the English Football Hall of Fame's inaugural class.   

Bikes On The Walls

Here in the USA, the news we hear about Argentina tends to fall into two categories:

           its football (soccer) team and players

           the bad news.

In the latter category was, during my youth, the Peron regime.  These days, it's about hyper-inflation:  People spend their money as soon as they get it because it loses value faster than a dot-com stock in 2000.

What's often forgotten, though, is the country's creativity:  Not for nothing has its capital, Buenos Aires, been called "the Paris of South America."

And the city's and country's artistry isn't limited to what ends up in museums or on pedestals in public squares.  From what I've heard, few cities have more murals.  And those displays that adorn the city's walls encompass all kinds of styles--and subjects, including bicycles and bicycling.

Mart Aire started to grace buildings and other structures with his artistry in the 1990s---when he was 12 years old.  I just love the way his colors and sheer whimsicality express the flights of fancy and sheer freedom I experience when I'm spinning along a seashore, pumping up--or coasting down--a hill or zigging and zagging through city streets.

Women Ride In Copenhagen. Why Not Here?

In an earlier post, I wrote about how women's greater propensity for obeying the law--or simply our risk-adverseness--actually puts us at greater risk of injury and death while cycling.

In that post, I wrote about how the "Idaho Stop" could help to close that "gap."  Briefly, the "Idaho Stop"--so named because the Gem State legalized it all the way back in 1982--allows cyclists to treat red lights like "Stop" signs and "Stop" signs like "Yield" signs.  In other words, cyclists can proceed through a red light if there is no cross-traffic in the intersection.  That allows cyclists to proceed through the intersection ahead of any traffic--including right-turning trucks and buses--that might be following them.

I got to thinking about that in reading Cara Eckholm's comparison of bicycle commuting in Copenhagen, where she spent her early twenties, and New York, where she currently resides.  She points out that in the Danish capital, female cyclists actually outnumber their male counterparts, but on the Big Apple streets, men outnumber women on bikes by a factor of three to one, even though women outnumber men in "spin" and other indoor cycling.

Some of that difference, she contends, has to do with the state of bicycle infrastructure in each city (and country).  Studies show that women's participation in cycling tends to increase when there are more protected lanes and other cycling infrastructure. But she also believes that the cultural norms around gender and cycling are perhaps more important.  As an example, she cites reports--and I can attest--that drivers are more likely to encroach on a female cyclist's space that that of a male rider's.  

Moreover, women are far more likely to be using their bikes to ferry their children to school or ballet or soccer practice, or to shop or do household errands, than men are.  For such riding and riders, the monocoque carbon frames and spandex riding outfits featured in most ad and p.r. campaigns aren't very practical.  Eckholm contends that showing women--whether on city, cargo or e-bikes--in non-bike clothing with their kids, groceries, books or other items that don't fit in a jersey pocket would probably encourage more women--and members of racial and ethnic minorities--to think, "Hey, I can ride a bike!"

Illustration of "New Woman" by F. Opper in Puck magazine, 1895.  From the Library of Congress.

That is more or less the image cycling has in places like Copenhagen.  And, ironically, it harkens back to the images of the 1890s that showed proud, confident women in their "bloomers" and derby hats astride two wheels.  

The Incredible Shrinking Distance Between Bikes And Cars

Apparently, I am not the only one who perceives what I am about to describe.  Moreover (How many times have I used that word on this blog?), there is empirical evidence to back it up.

In New York City, where I live, as well as other American municipalities, there are more bike lanes than at any time since, probably, the 1890s bike boom. Of course, that is not to say that you can get from anywhere to anywhere you want or need to go in a lane separated from traffic, but you can spend at least some of your cycling time secluded from large motor vehicles.

Well, at least in theory, that's possible.  But there is something else that's mitigating against cyclists' safety.  As more "cycling infrastructure" is being built (too often, from misconceptions about cycling and traffic), motor vehicles are getting bigger.  Twenty years ago, a typical family vehicle was a Toyota Camry or some other sedan.  Today, it is a sport-utility vehicle (SUV) like the Kia Ascent or pickup truck like the Ford F-150. As an infographic from Transportation Alternatives shows, that means the typical amount of "elbow room" between a cyclist and a vehicle has shrunk from 18 inches to 4 (46 to 10 cm), a reduction of about 75 percent.

The trend toward larger vehicles began and accelerated well before cities like New York started to build bike lanes.  So, encounters between motor vehicles and cyclists were already getting closer.  That means drivers can't use the excuse that bike lanes were "taking away" their space for driving.  

On the other hand, as I've said in other posts, lines of paint does not a bike lane make.  Many family vehicles*  on the road today take up the entire width of a traffic lane.  So, if someone is driving their Toyota 4Runner to their kid's school or soccer practice and is trying to pass another driver, or has to swerve for any other reason, there's a good chance that the SUV will veer, or even careen, into the bike lane. At least one driver has done exactly that right in front of me.

Of course, a couple of lines of paint or a "neutral" buffer strip between a bike and traffic or parking lane won't protect a cyclist--or change a motorist's behavior--in such a situation.  Then again, so-called "protected" lanes don't, either:  Most of the objects used to segregate lanes, like bollards or planters, are easy to knock over, especially with a multiton vehicle.  

The size and weight of the vehicles presents another problem.  Safety experts say that driving even a mid-sized SUV like the Buick Enclave, let alone a full-sized one like the Cadillac Escalade, is more like driving a truck than a family sedan of the 1990s.  With all due respect to all of those parents who ferry their kids and aging parents, most of them don't have the driving skills of someone who operates a long-hauler.**  So, Sarah or Seth driving their Honda CR-V to pick up Ian or Beth can easily misjudge the distance between them and other vehicles--or pedestrians or cyclists. Worse, the larger size and heavier weight of their vehicles means that a blow that might have struck a pedestrian or cyclist in the middle of their body and caused damage that could be serious but was probably survivable had the vehicle been a Honda Accord or Ford Escort could, instead, trap the benighted person riding along the street or crossing it underneath the grille or the vehicle itself.

So, while the effort, if not the results, to build "bicycle infrastructure" is laudable, it won't make much difference in cycling (or pedestrians') safety if typical family vehicles continue to grow in size, along with the sense of entitlement that some drivers have.

*--I'm not talking about delivery trucks and the like, which have remained more or less constant in size.

**--Although I've never driven such conveyances, I am aware of the differences in driving skills between people who drive them and the average driver:  One of my uncles and a close friend, both departed, drove trucks for a living and another uncle and a cousin did so for significant parts of their working lives.

 

The Next Tour?

 World War II suspended the Tour de France and most other cycling and athletic-related events.  For one thing, many riders were called to fight for their countries.For another, had the events been held, riders' safety could not be ensured.

So I was surprised to learn that a race transversing one of the world's most war-torn countries last week.  One thing that makes the race all the more interesting is that it is being promoted as a counterpart to the Tour de France.  Burkina Faso was a colony of that country, called Upper Volta, until 1984.

Eighty cyclists are riding the race, some of them Europeans.  (They say they're not worried about safety because "the military are everywhere.") Perhaps most prominent among them is Paul Daumont, who also competed in this year's Olympics in Tokyo.  The good news is that, at 22, he still has a lot of riding ahead of him.  

But he admits that it hasn't been easy for him, or other cyclists from his country.  The country's cycling federation gave him a bike when he showed potential but, he says, you need a really good bike which few of his compatriots can afford.  Also, I imagine that his team and others in Africa simply don't have the budgets or facilities of their European counterparts.  

Daumont has already raced, not only in Japan, but in other countries like Switzerland.  It's fair to wonder whether he and other talented cyclists will follow their counterparts in football (soccer) to careers in Europe, where teams from the English Premier League to Serie A feature star players from Africa and other parts of the world. The French national team won the World Cup in 1998 and 2018 largely thanks to the efforts of their African and Middle Eastern players.

Two things Daumont and other African cyclists share with their football-playing counterparts are ambition and a willingness to work very, very hard.  So, perhaps, we might see Africans win the Tour, Giro and Vuelta sooner rather than later.

  

He Says We're Charity Cases

When laws or policies are enacted so that members of "minority" groups can love and marry whomever their hearts desire, get jobs commensurate with their education and skills, and live in communities they can afford--and where their children will enjoy the same opportunities as their majority-culture peers--some folks whine that we're getting "special privileges."

This phenomenon is, sadly, hardly unique to the US.  It persists in other places, though the "minority" group in question might be different.  And the fear and resentment echoed in that complaint might be expressed in different language or other ways.

An example Patrick Lefevere's answer when presented with the idea of starting a women's cycling team in the manner of Movistar, FDJ or Trek-Segafredo.  The Decuninick-Quickstep team boss, widely regarded as the most succesful cycling team manager in history, hails from Belgium, arguably the most cycling-intense country in the world.  So, if anyone seemed a likely candidate to launch a top-tier women's team, he would be the one.

So how did he respond?  "I'm not the OMCW"--a Belgian welfare organization.

To be fair, he claimed he doesn't have "the experience, time, money or desire" for such an undertaking.  Perhaps his pockets aren't as deep (or it's more expensive to start a team)  and the time commitment in running a team is greater, than we suspected. Also, he's 66 years old, so he may want to spend whatever time he has on other pursuits--or his grandkids.  

But his experience?  While female racers differ from their male counterparts, I think someone like him can spot talent and train people.

Belgian Team Liv member celebrates her victory ahead of Elisa Longo Borghini in La Vuelta Stage 4 (Getty Images)

Again, in the interests of fairness, I should point out that he doesn't know how to convince someone with the requisite talent and skills to become a professional cyclist--a pursuit that, at times, has more in common with the life of a monk or nun than a rock star.  And, he claims that there's a chasm between the level of Belgian female cyclists and their peers in neighboring Netherlands, which has turned out champions like Marianne Vos.

Now, if he'd stuck to his claims about talent levels or what he was able and willing, or not, to commit to a women's team, he at least would have had some credibility.  But to liken such an undertaking to a welfare organization is to say, in essence, that we're charity cases.  We aren't, any more than the US Women's Soccer team is.  

Why She--And I--Aren't Going To Arkansas

A few US states have a problem with gender identity and variance.  Cycling, as a competitive sport and as an activity, shouldn't join them.

That is what Molly Cameron says in her Bicycling online article.  She is referring, specifically, to the bill in Arkansas that would ban trans girls and women  from competing on school and university sports teams consistent with their gender identity.  It would also ban young trans people from getting the health care they need.

About that second issue:  health care, for trans people of any age, is not just about hormones and surgery.  In fact, many trans and non-binary people choose to forego them (or, sometimes, just the surgery) for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is cost. In the following paragraph, I'll mention some of the things involved in transgender health care. In it, I'll mention a few intimate and painful details of my life.  If you are not comfortable about reading such things, you can skip the rest of this post.

If you embark on a gender-affirmation (what people used to call gender transition or gender change), or simply explore the possiblilty of one, you have to go through a few rigorous processes that involve various health care and social service providers.  (That is, of course, unless you buy hormones and get surgery on the "black market," which too many trans people, especially the young or nonwhite, still do.)  Your primary doctor and specialists such as endocrinologists examine your physical fitness for the process.  You also spend lots of time with mental health specialists--I saw a therapist and social worker every week--who, not only want to ascertain that you have a clear and accurate idea of what it will really mean to live in your "new" gender, but also to sort through the trauma as well as the positive effects of having performed a gender you were assigned at birth.  To some degree, your primary doctor, endocrinologists and other health-care professionals may deal with them, too.

The positive aspects include, for many of us, achievements.  I ran, wrestled, played soccer and cycled long distances, in part, in the hope that they would make me more masculine.  Whether or not they did that is debatable, but at least becoming an athlete, at least in some fashion, mostly stopped the bullying I'd experienced.  The bullies, I am sure, turned to gossip and rumor-mongering, or other low-level forms of aggression, but at least I wasn't getting beat up every day.  

Also, I was a fairly good student.  And, it may well be that my experience is, if not the reason, then a factor in my becoming a writer and teacher.  While I have met too many homeless or otherwise food- and housing-insecure trans people, I have also met, and know of, many who achieved much.  One such trans person is Dr. Marci Bowers, who performed my surgery.

On the other hand, almost all of us carry the often-toxic detritus of having to live as someone else.  Too many of us--including some of the high-achievers, and me--have struggled with substance abuse, failed relationships and other problems. More than a few of us have attempted suicide, and some, including two friends of mine, actually took their lives because they couldn't deal with the struggle anymore.  I can't help but to wonder whether, had they gotten help (which was unavailable to them, as it was to me, because of the times and places in which we lived) earlier in their lives, they might still be living and thriving as their true selves today.

From Cyclocross Magazine

That help, for some, includes participation in a sport--and, just as important, not having to pretend to be someone else in order to participate in that sport.  I can't help but to think that at least some of the politicians who proposed Arkansas' bill—and other related legislation, such as North Carolina's "bathroom bill"--have positive memories of participating in some sport, whether in school or in another organization like Little League or Pop Warner football.  I would assume that most, if not all, of them did not have to pretend to be someone else in order to play--or to use the bathroom once the competition is over.

Molly Cameron has drawn attention to the Arkansas bill for several reasons.  For one, she is a trans woman. For another, she has been involved in Cyclo-cross, as a racer and event promoter, for more than two decades.  Which leads to the final reason:  a Cyclocross World Cup event is scheduled for the state in October, and it will host the 2022 Cyclocross World Championships.  

She is not calling for a boycott at the moment, but she says that if the events are held in Arkansas, she won't be going.  She adds, "I won't be spending any money in Arkansas or any other state that is passing laws to discriminate against the LGBTQ community."  Finally, though, she offers her prescription:  "I am putting in the work and am hopeful that things will change."

Her optimism is not unfounded.  Change is indeed coming, however slowly, whether or not legislators in Arkansas or other states want to acknowledge it.

 

Our Bodies, Our Bikes

Two weeks ago, I wrote "The Unbearable Whiteness of Cycling."  In it, I discussed some of the possible reasons why the current "bike boom" is largely a Caucasian phenomenon.  A major factor is the images of cyclists portrayed in advertising and the media in general:  Nearly everyone astride a two-wheeler is white.

And young, unless the cyclist in question is a celebrity--in which case, said cyclist probably looks younger than he or she is .

And easily idenitifiable as male or female:  There is little or no gender amibiguity or "queerness" among  cyclists shown in promos.

And thin, especially if the cyclist is female.

That last issue is the subject of a new video, "All Bodies on Bikes," directed by Zeppelin Zeerip, Its stars, Kailey Korhauser and Marlee Blonskey, remind us of a basic fact:  "To be a cyclist, you just have to be a person riding a bike."

As I watched this video, I was showing it to two other people:  My early-childhood self and the person I was early in my gender-affirmation (what I used to call my gender-transition) process. Before I started running, wrestling, playing soccer and riding long distances, I was a fat kid.  And, when I embarked on my journey from life as a man called Nick to a woman named Justine, I wondered whether I'd have to give up cycling.  I even raised that question to my social worker, a transgender man, and my therapist, a heterosexual cisgender woman--who, as it turned out, were cyclists themselves, though "not like you," as both told me.

I now realize that those fears showed how I'd internalized the images of cyclists I'd encountered, and how they were reinforced by my experiences: Until fairly late in my life as Nick, nearly all of the cyclists I knew were white and male, and if any were at all overweight, it was by only a few pounds.

My social worker and therapist used my question about cycling to re-pose (Is that a word?) another question to me:  How did I envision myself?  When I identify myself as female, how do I see that?  That, of course, is a question any therapist or social worker poses to anyone who believes he or she may be transgender, because it's fundamental:  Are you seeing yourself as Angelina Jolie or Jennifer Lopez (icons of the time when I embarked on my process )  or as the housewife or single mother you see in the market--or as your own mother, or someone else?

Although I've lost some weight and have been told I'm looking good, nobody will mistake my body for Christy Turlington's or Rihanna's.  Part of that is, of course, genetics and my body structure:  As I mentioned in my earlier post, I probably never will be smaller than a size 10.  That is true of many other women, including many who, at least to my eye, are quite beautiful.  

So, the issue of body shape is not just one of dress size (a sexist measurement).  It's also one of biology, class--and race.  Members of some ethnic groups, such as natives of American Samoa (which produces National Football League players far out of proportion to its population), are just naturally bigger than other people.  

This question of what a cyclist should look like is an example of what Kimberle Crenshaw defined as "intersectionality." For the most part, what we've seen in advertising and the rest of the media shows us that cyclists are supposed to be young, thin and white--and, by extension, of a certain social and economic class.  If we are to truly gain acceptance from larger society (and less hostility from motorists), the imagery of cycling has to be more inclusive.  "All Bodies on Bikes" is one step in that direction.

Pictures Of A Double Standard

Megan Rapinoe and the US Women's Soccer Team have used their dominance in the sport to expose the inequities between the ways men and women are treated in the sports world.

Their advocacy work has focused on the differences in pay and facilities, but has also highlighted the root of the problem:  There are few women in high-level executive posts, not only on teams and sports leagues and federations, but also in the industries related to them.

One result of that dearth of female management is that female candidates are held to very different standards from men, in areas outside of, as well as in, their sports. It's hard not to think, for example, that one reason why, after nearly a quarter-century of play, the Women's National Basketball Association (WNBA) still plays in lesser venues than most college teams is that the majority of players are black (and tall) and that many are, or are perceived as, lesbians--no small matter to potential sponsors who are worried about boycotts led by right-wing and religious organizations.  

(Although Rapinoe and other members of the USWST are openly lesbian or bisexual, the team first became media darlings after its 1999 World Cup victory. Everyone on that squad, with the exception of goalkeeper Briana Scurry, was white and all were seen as "the girls next door.")

I can just see Tara Gins nodding knowingly. From 2016 to 2020, she raced professionally in Belgium, where fans can name literally anyone, professional or amateur, in the peloton or on the track.  She sounds like just the person to become the directeur sportif of a team, right?

Tara Gins

Well, the management of an under-23 team thought so.  That is, until some photos came their way.  Apparently, because the team--which Gins could not name, for various reasons--is under-23 and thus not bound by UCI rules, they could make agreement verbal, without a written contract. That, of course, made it easier for them to get out of the agreement when, they claim, potential sponsors objected to the photos.

It's not clear which photos caused the team to renege, but Gins believes that they were part of photoshoots she did for Playboy last May and for a Belgian company's calendar two months later.  The calendar is distributed only to the company's customers, so the photos weren't made public.  

Gins acknowledges that in the Playboy photos she is "nude" with "some areas covered" so they are "not vulgar." In the calendar photos, she says, she's topless and the photos have "nothing to do with cycling."  So it's interesting, to say the least, to wonder who "leaked" those photos--or if the team's director sought them out.  She was told that a team staff member came across them and sent them to other staff members in a group chat.

As Gins points out, the photos "harmed no one" and the phots were taken before she was offered the job.  More to the point, she says, her experience points to a "double standard" in the sport.  "In a men's race, they want flower girls to dress very sexy and that is OK," she explains. But if someone wants a job in men's cycling "who used to be the sexy girl," then "it's not OK."  

Even before the job offer was withdrawn, Gins had experiences that pointed to the "double standard" of which she speaks.  While she raced, she had demeaning encounters with team leaders or soigneurs.  "I was literally assaulted," she recounts.  A mechanic "crept into a shower with me after a workout;" she was kissed and heard inappropriate comments directed toward her.  "I had a manager come in when I was getting a massage to say how horny I looked," she recalls.

During my youth, there was an ad (for, ironically, a brand of cigarettes) that exclaimed, "You've come a long way, baby!" Well, if you'll indulge me a cliche, we have a long way to go.  Just ask Tara Gins.

1000 Books For A Bike

As a Scout, I earned a merit badge for reading.

Until I saw it in Clayton and Magee, the Red Bank, NJ  men's and boys' clothier  that sold Scout uniforms and equipment, I didn't know that such a thing existed.  Nor did my scoutmaster, or anyone else in the troop.  To get the badge, I had to document that I'd read at least 12 books in a year--something I normally do--and write reports, reviews and critiques on them.  

My English teacher, Mrs. McKenna, was also unaware of the badge until I mentioned it. She happily signed off on it and mentioned it to the rest of the class, which included a few other Scouts.  To my knowledge, only one other kid pursued that opportunity.

I don't remember exactly how many books I read, but I know that I easily exceeded the requirements.  I don't think I read 1000, though.

Ayan Geer and Kristopher Depaz did, however.  For their achievement, the Riverhead, Long Island residents got a reward that I never could have dreamed of:  new bicycles, presented to them the other night at their town's public library.

Not to take anything away from their achievements, I will mention that Ayan's favorite books were "Crocodile and Hen" and "Pete the Cat." Kristopher didn't specify a favorite, but mentioned that he loves playing soccer with his father and wants to be a professional player when he grows up.  
One more thing I should mention:  Ayan and Kristopher each read 1000 books before starting kindergarten.

Forget about a merit badge:  They should get medals.  Solid gold ones.  And bicycles for life.

Celebration Rides

Yesterday's post was rather depressing, if necessary.  So today I'll be a bit more cheerful.  Or, at least, I'll follow Walt Whitman and celebrate myself.

Last Thursday, on the Fourth, I said I'd "sneak in" a ride before going to a barbecue with friends.  Well, that barbecue started a bit later than planned and, of course, there was no rule about being there when it started.  

When does a barbecue "start" anyway?  When the first burger or chicken wing is placed on the grill?  Or when the first one is eaten?  Even if you can fix a "start" time, when is someone "late" for a barbecue?  When the food runs out?  

Cyclists Resting at the Top of Pendle Hill by Gosha Gibek

Anyway, the ride I "snuck" in took me to Connecticut and back:  137 kilometers, or about 85 miles.  

A ride and a barbecue:  Really, what more could I want on my birthday--which just happens to be US Independence Day!


The other day, I celebrated another "birthday".  On Sunday, the 7th, I took another ride to Connecticut. I took a longer route, though, from Rye to the Nutmeg State, over a series of roads that climbed ridges and looped around farms north of Greenwich.  Then I descended one of those ridges into the town of Greenwich.  In all, I rode 169 kilometers, or 105 miles.

When I set out on my ride, though, I didn't realize I was celebrating another "birthday":  It's something that occurred to me while I was climbing one of the ridges.  On that day, exactly ten years ago (7 July 2009), I had my gender reassignment surgery.  It kept me off my bike for a few months and I started this blog not long after I started riding again.

Oh, and while I was riding/celebrating, the US Women's Soccer/Football team won the World Cup.  If I were just a little more self-centered, I'd say they did it for me, or there was some sort of cosmic convergence.  But I have just enough humility to believe in coincidences that I can't explain.

Then again, when you can celebrate, do you really need to explain?

It Was Always The Future--Until Now?

A sportswriter once joked that soccer (what the rest of the world calls football) will always be the sport of the future in America.

And an economist once said, only half in-jest, that Brazil will always be the country of the future.

Likewise, back in the '70's Bike Boom, bicycles were being touted as the "transportation of the future."  Around 1979 (the time of the second American "gas crisis") I saw, in a shop window, a touring bike with a sign hanging from it proclaiming it "the RV (recreational vehicle) of the '80's."

Then, of course, Ronald Reagan was elected and put the kibosh on anything--except nuclear power--that might've reduced this country's dependence on fossil fuels.

Through the '80's and '90's, bicycle sales in the US basically flatlined, with a few upticks in the middle of each decade.  Anecdotally, I don't recall seeing many more cyclists on the road in the late '90's than I saw around 1983, when I first moved back to New York.  When I was mountain biking in the mid- and late '90's, I would sometimes see new faces on the trails, but they never seemed to do any other kind of cycling.  I wonder how many of them still ride.

I got to thinking about these phenomena after I came across Clive Thompson's article in Wired. "The Vehicle of the Future Has Two Wheels, Handlebars and is a Bike," exclaims the title.   I checked my cynicism at the door and read it.  He made one really interesting point:  The same technologies that are bringing us driverless cars and other things that seemed like the stuff of science fiction not so long ago are bringing us back to a reliable technology that's more than a century old, i.e., the bicycle.

Photo by Noah Berger

One of the main drivers, if you will, of that would-be trend is bike-sharing programs.  As he pointed out, they were tried way back in the '60's but, with no way to track the location of the bikes, the programs quickly died.  When the first of the modern share programs started just over a decade ago, the technology that gave rise to "smart" phones and their apps made it possible to track bikes--and, in the early programs, to create docks where bicycles could be secured.  Newer programs are, of course, dockless because they rely on another technology--phone apps.

Thompson didn't intend any pun when he said that to see the future, we don't have to re-invent the wheel.  And I don't mean a pun when I say that perhaps technology is bringing us full circle.

Bicycles just might be the transportation of the future--right now.

Why Was I Doing My Commute On Sunday?

Sometimes I joke about "going through the Gate of Hell to get to work every day."  The truth is, I ride over Hell Gate and by the Hell Gate Bridge when I cross the RFK Memorial (a.k.a. Triborough) Bridge every morning.

On Sunday I took Bill and Cindy by it.  If that was supposed to scare them into living on the straight and narrow, it wasn't very effective.  Then again, how could I scare, or persuade, anybody or anything into being straight?  


But I digress.  We were riding to Van Cortland Park.  They wanted to take the Greenway along the Hudson River (and the West Side Highway.)  While I like the views and that it's so close to the water, I knew that on a sunny Sunday, half of the cyclists, 70 percent of the skateboarders and 99 percent of the people with dogs or baby strollers would be on that path.  Pedaling through the Port Morris industrial area--deserted on Sunday--and Bronx side streets would be bucolic by comparison.

So, after taking Bill and Cindy through, or by, the Gates of Hell, we descended (literally) to Randall's Island where we rode underneath the Amtrak viaduct.  After the Gate, these arches were rather impressive.  Funny thing is, I don't normally see them that way:  They are, after all, part of my commute.

So are these houses on Alexander Avenue in the Bronx:

Not far away are these houses.   Save for the graffiti next to the "fish" building, almost nobody expects to see them in the South Bronx:

They're diagonally across from each other on the Grand Concourse.  The mansion is the Freedman House, built in the 1920s for formerly-wealthy people who had fallen on hard times. Now it contains an event space, art studio and bed-and-breakfast. It's almost jarring to see such a classically Florentine house across the Concourse from the Art Deco building with its mosaic. 

Anyway, Cindy had an appointment and had to leave us before we reached Van Cortlandt Park. Back when I lived on the Upper West Side and in Washington Heights, I used to take quick spins to the park, where I would check out whatever was on display in the Manor or watch the Irish rugby and soccer players. Time marches on, and now there are different folks playing a different game.

The clouds thickened, but never threatened rain.  But they didn't portend anything like Spring, either.  Rolling across the hills of Riverdale, they broke against the shore of Spuyten Duyvil, another place almost nobody expects to find in the Bronx:

When Carelessness And Distraction Collide

In my high school, one of the science teachers was also the soccer coach.   I heard that he used to give his students a "problem":  If a ball is rolling at 10 mph, a 140-pound player is running at it from one direction and a 180-pound player is running from another direction, what will be the trajectories of the players and the ball?

Then he would tell his students, "We can go down to the field and find out."  For the rest of class, they would watch the team (which included me) at practice.

Now here's another real-life physics problem, albeit without much humor:  A woman is driving a Buick at 62 MPH in a 45 MPH zone.  She picks up her cell phone.  

What will happen to the cyclist who just happens to be riding along the same road, in the same direction?

Jeffrey Gordon Pierce

Well, the answer to that one is grim, to say the least.  Jeffrey Gordon Pierce, a 53-year-old teacher at the Inman (South Carolina) Intermediate School was thrown off his bike after he was hit by said Buick, driven by Heather Renee Hall, an Inman resident.

Heather Renee Hall

Well, she was an Inman resident until yesterday.  Her new residence, for now, is the Spartanburg County Detention Center.  Jeffrey Gordon Pierce, meanwhile, is in the South Carolina earth:  He died at the scene of the crash.

And, yes, he wore a helmet.  Even that wasn't enough to prevent a horrible crash, let alone influence its outcome, when carelessness and distraction collided.  

R.I.P. The Bicycle Chef

A few days ago, I wrote about Stephen Ambruzs' bike shop/ cafe, "Downshift", and how it--and other bike cafes--could be affected by the repeal of "net neutrality."

Today, nearly any municipality with a community of a few hundred or more cyclists has at least one place where you can have espresso or Earl Grey--or even a craft beer or cider--and chat, check your e-mail or check out some books and magazines while your brakes are being adjusted.  It's sometimes hard to believe that just a decade ago, very few such places existed.

One of the first bicycle cafes--or, at least, one of the first places to bill itself as such--opened in Sacramento (near Davis), California in 2005.  Business owners, especially restaurateurs, often name their enterprises after themselves.  Well, the fellow who started the bicycle cafe I'm about to mention did just that--well, sort of.  Bicycle Chef was indeed begun by someone who was a bicycle racer--Category II, to be exact--and a certified chef.

Actually, by the time he started the cafe, he was no longer racing:  a back injury ended his career. But he never gave up his passion for pedaling:  He continued to ride and coach young riders--as well as football (soccer) players--even as the responsibilities of his business and family took up most of his time.

Christopher Davis-Murai with his wife, Jennifer Davis-Murai, and their children, Naomi and Toshiro.

It never seems fair that, like the rest of us, such a person has only a limited amount of time in this world.  For Christopher Davis-Murai, that amount of time totaled 51 years, and it ended last Thursday when he collapsed just after stepping outside his house. 

Jennifer Davis-Murai has just lost her husband, and Naomi and Toshiro their father.  Many others in their community lost a mentor and friend.  And, many of us could say we've lost a pioneer who helped to create an idea--a bicycle cafe--that is part of today's cycling landscape.