Now we're having the sort of weather we normally get in the latter parts of November or Feburary. So many people in this part of the world are wondering whether or not we had winter.
Officially, Spring began about a week and a half ago. Of course, we all know that the beginning or end of a season hasn't much to do with an equinox. Or so it seems.
Some Irish people argue that Spring begins on St. Patrick's Day. Some old Sicilians say it starts with the feast of San Giuseppe (St. Joseph) on the 19th. (I don't think it does; however, it's a great excuse for eating a sfingi.) However, other Italians argue that the season commences with the Milano-San Remo race. In fact, the race is commonly nicknamed "La Primavera." Other Europeans think la primavera or le printemps begins on the day of the nearest one-day "classic".
One-day classics usually highlight a particular aspect of road racing such as sprinting (e.g., Milano-San Remo), climbing (La Fleche Wallonne) or the sheer ability to endure pain and torture (See the Paris-Roubaix, a.k.a., "L'enfer du nord."). As one might expect, the first ones are held in Italy and, from there, they move northward to France, Belgium and the Netherlands.
In times past, it was important for even the top racers to place well, if not win. Cycling, which until the 1980's was sponsored mainly by bicycle-related companies and other mom-and-pop businesses, didn't pay as well as other sports like soccer/football. Even Eddy Mercx built up his bank account--along with his muscles and his reputation--by winning more classics than any other racer in history. That is one reason why, Lance's seven Tour de France wins notwithstanding, Europeans still hold Mercx in higher esteem--more than three decades after his retirement-- than just about any other racer.
Ironically, Australians won this year's and last year's Milan-San Remo. In the native country of Simon Gerrans and Matt Goss, autumn was beginning when they won the race, as it was in 2009 when their countryman Mark Cavendish won.
I actually studied poetry with Allen Ginsberg. In addition to what I learned about my own writing, the experience furthered my appreciation for the poetry of Walt Whitman and--although he never mentioned his work--Pablo Neruda. They, and Allen, are poets who celebrated common things and people. So did Vachel Lindsay, but I never caught Allen's enthusiasm for his work.
Although Allen himself was never a cyclist, I feel that in some way, it was appropriate for me, as a cyclist, to have worked with him. After all, cycling brings us closer to the common things (and people) those poets celebrated. That is probably the reason why my bike tours of the French countryside are among my most treasured experiences.
However, even on a normal commute--or a wide to "unwind" after work, we can see beauty in the quotidian:
Last night, I managed to take a spin down to Sheepshead Bay after work. I arrived to find these regal and mysterious-looking swans.
And, just a little while ago, I was treated to this sight at the end of the day:
If cycling didn't help me to appreciate everyday sights, I don't know what could have!
Today's commute turned into a game of "playing chicken with the rain." Sometimes those commutes are the most fun because, when I do manage to dodge the rain, I feel like a kid who's gotten away with something.
The first half-hour of my commute felt like a ride across a big lawn lined with rotating sprinklers. It seemed that, as soon as dewy drops evaporated from my nose and hands, I'd get spritzed with another quick round of moisture.
However, about half an hour into my ride, heavier rain dropped from the sky. Suddenly, I could just barely see ahead of me. I ducked under a canopy in front of a store. What kind of a store it was, I wasn't exactly sure. The sign advertised photo finishing and passport service; inside I saw a jewelery case, a couple of fax/copy machines and a couple of desks. And, although the store appeared to be open, I didn't see anybody--not even an employee--inside. I wanted to thank somebody for providing such a good canopy exactly when I needed one!
Anyway, the rain stopped, but I saw lightning flash about a mile or so away. I trusted-- for that moment, anyway-- the wisdom in the old wives' (how sexist!) tale of how lightning never strikes twice in the same place.
Then it was back to riding in and out of the invisible rotating sprinklers. It wasn't raining when I got to work. About an hour later, the sun was shining and my students were staring out the window as I was teaching them the most important things anybody would ever teach them. Well, I probably wasn't, really, but I have to make them--and myself--believe that. Right?
This has been a strange season, to say the least. We had our only real snowfall at the end of October. There have only been two, maybe three, stretches during which the temperature remained below freezing for two or more days. Last week, the temperature reached 75F (24C) on consecutive days. And, yesterday, the temperature dropped from 52 at the time I rode to work to 27 at the time I rode home.
I knew that the temperature was going to drop, but I wasn't prepared for such a large drop. That has, in part, to do with the fact that I stayed about two hours later at work than I'd planned. Also, the wind, which blew briskly when I pedalled to work, grew even stronger by the time I pedalled home--and I was riding into it for part of the way.
Really, though, I shouldn't complain. Well, all right, I will anyway. I bought some nice wool stuff this year that I never used!
The number of bicycle commuters here in New York is certainly growing. Even auto-centric public officials admit as much; I know that I see many more people riding to and from work than I did even a couple of years ago.
While this has helped to raise, however slowly, public awareness of the viability of cycling for transportation, it is also causing us to experience what NYC motorists have long complained about: the lack of available parking, and the expense of off-the-street parking.
To its credit, the city is building more parking racks and stations. And, two years ago, it passed a law requiring commercial garages and parking lots to provide parking spaces for bicycles.
That all sounds really good. But commuting cyclists have encountered another drivers' dilemma: parking spaces in prime commuter destinations are very expensive.
The garage whose sign appears in the photo is at the low end of the price scale. The only problem is that, while it's in a neighborhood (Prospect Heights, Brooklyn) where many cyclists live, not many work there. On the other hand, prices for bicycle parking spaces in prime midtown Manhattan areas rival the fees for parking cars. As an example, one garage at Bowery and Canal Street charges $221 a month. Another near Columbus Circle charges $189 a month.
What's truly galling, though, is that some garages charge the 18.375 percent parking tax, which is supposed to apply only to motor vehicles. Given that the city never has enough inspectors for restaurants and such, it's easy for unethical garage and lot owners to charge the tax with impunity.
Still, I'm glad that such parking facilities exist, even though I haven't had to use them myself. But, who knows, one day I might. Hopefully, there will be other improvements to the lot of bicycle commuters by that time!
Perhaps you've never pondered the question posed in the title of this post. Now's your chance. Actually, I'll give you one possible answer I stumbled upon.
It seems there's a particular kind of whimsy that only the English can do. And, as best as I can tell, the Brits are the only ones who've applied that sort of mirth to cycling.
And then there is the kind of humor that only the Curry Cycle Co. of Leicester could do.
Curry placed a series of cartoons called "Strange But True" in British cycling magazines during the early part of the 20th Century. Those cartoons were compiled by a correspondent with the nom de plume of "Wheeler" and were drawn by well-known Leicester artist Frank Layton. He also designed Curry's head badge.
One of my favorite of the series in No.2, which includes the high-wire cyclist and one of the best epitaphs ever written:
On this spot at half-past nine o'clock, after watching the glorious sunset of Aug 3rd 1904, Thomas Gilbert Smith, M.D., aged 56, fell dead from his bicycle. Thunder and lightning immediately followed.
Henry Curry started building bicycles in 1884. His brothers joined in the business, and they continued building until 1932, when they began to sell Hercules cycles badged as Currys. They continued with the latter arrangement until some time during the 1960's, when Hercules, along with most British bicycle manufacturers, were absorbed by Raleigh.
Even the most jaded of us are marveling at the weather we've been having. Yesterday and the day before, the temperature reached 75F (24C), which is more typical of what we have in June. And not so much as a wisp of cloud smudged the blue skies. Such clouds gathered over the course of this day; the air grew cooler and the wind blew harder. Still, it was a fine day to ride.
These few days have followed one of the mildest winters most of us can recall. Strangely, the only significant snow fell at the end of October; since then, we've had a couple of bouts of flurries but no accumulations. In spite of this lack of snow, the season has not seemed unusually dry, though I can't recall any long stretches of rain.
This weather, needless to say, has been a boon to those of us who ride bicycles. However, it has brought another benefit that I noticed as I rode today.
I can't recall seeing the streets so clear at this time of the year. Last year, in the aftermath of the seemingly endless procession of snowstorms we had, the streets were full of sand and salt. The weather, and the sand and salt, meant that there were even more potholes and other breaks in the pavement than one would normally find.
What made things worse was that there were also other kinds of debris: everything from broken bottles to car parts. The snowstorms hindered, or even precluded, trash pickup. So, refuse left at curbside took flight when the wind gusted, or simply got pushed or brushed aside from passing cars and pedestrians.
This year, I've noticed that the only streets that have a lot of problems with potholes and other instructions are the ones that carry a lot of truck traffic. In most of the residential areas, like my neighborhood, the streets seem fairly smooth.
Hmm...I wonder if I should be saying all of these things. If City officials are reading this, they might think they can cut the street cleaning and maintenance budget. And, although I know, rationally, that I have no influence on the weather, something in the back of my mind tells me that I'm going to "jinx" us for next winter.
What can I say? I'm glad for what we've had and wouldn't mind more of it.
She is British. She lived her entire life in England before I brought her over in July. So it makes sense that Vera would be accustomed to weather like we had last night.
Upon leaving work, I encountered the densest fog I can recall having seen in New York. I literally could not see from one corner to the next, a distance of about 150 metres. Yet, I didn't feel I had to make much of an effort to get home: She seemed to be able to find the way. All I had to do was pedal, and that wasn't so hard.
It seems that the debate about wheel size won't ever go away. I'm not talking only about 650 vs. 700: I'm thinking about those sizes vs. 20 inch or smaller sizes.
There has always been a contagion of cyclists, bike designers and marketers who've maintained that smaller wheels are actually faster. Alex Moulton went so far as to "break" records with his bikes. (As it turned out, he rode against records that hadn't been challenged for years, or even decades.) Whatever you think of his bikes, recumbents or other small-wheeled bicycles, they do have loyal followings, particularly in Japan and a few other countries.
My experience with smaller-wheeled bikes (apart from what I rode early in my childhood) is limited to a couple of folding bikes. Perhaps I'll have the opportunity to ride others and, if I'm feeling ambitious, make a comparison with my own and other 700C bikes.
Or I could borrow this bike:
I've just stumbled across another bike site I like: #BikeNYC.
It's photographer Dmitry Gudkov's series of portraits and profiles of New Yorkers who ride bicycles to work or simply to get around.
Included is a portrait of what I'd like to look like, on and with my bike, in my next life. And there are lots of images of attractive, stylish people who ride. But Gudokov's photos aren't just "fashion shoots" with bikes as props. His subjects work in diverse fields (lawyers, janitors and everything in between) and live in a variety of neighborhoods throughout the five boroughs. One of my favorites is a guy named "Jamaica," who lives in the eponymous neighborhood in Queens. I think I've seen him; I work not very far from where he lives.
I haven't replicated any of Gudkov's phots here; he doesn't allow anyone to copy and paste them. Given that he is a photographer, I can understand his wish (and, possibly, need) to do so. So I'll just encourage you to visit his site. While you're there, check out this portrait of Hal, the longtime mechanic of Bicycle Habitat. He's the one who turned me on to Mercians, and who built the wheels for the ones I ride.
