After Sandy: Too Sick To Ride

The storms have passed.  Most of today was overcast and rather chilly. I don't mind either.  At least the wind and rain are gone, for now.

So, I thought, I'd finally get out for a good long (or longish) ride this weekend.  And I would do something charitable.

Well, it didn't happen today.  I started to feel aches and congestion earlier this week.  On Thursday, one of my classes was observed, and I could just barely get through it. I rested yesterday but still felt tired and congested today.  And my cough has gotten more persistent.

I felt so drained that I didn't even volunteer to help storm victims in the Rockaways, as I'd planned on spending at least some time this weekend.  

Of course, this isn't the first time I haven't felt well enough to ride.  It's also not the first time I had to cancel or postpone plans to be of service to the community.  But it might be the first time both happened.  So, as best as I can recall, this is the first time I have felt both cheated and guilty.  It sounds like a weird combination, I know.  But the last couple of weeks have not been ordinary.  

Well, at least I know that even at my age, there is still plenty of time left for bike rides and service to others.

Hoping That It Doesn't Become Merely A Memory

From Steve Greer Photography

I came across this image that reminded me of a ride I used to take at this time of year when I was in college.

Turns out, the cyclist in the photo is taking the same ride.  

He's pedaling the Delaware and Raritan Canal towpath, which winds for seventy miles through Central New Jersey, from the Raritan River in New Brunswick to the Delaware River in Bordentown.  

Paths were built along it, as they were along other canals, to allow mules to tow the barges.  Those paths fell into disuse as steam engines were used to propel the boats and, eventually, the canals themselves fell into disuse as railroads and, later, highways cut through the land.

The D&R Canal provided some of the best foliage rides in New Jersey--and, I daresay, the region.  One problem with it, though, is that it's in a flood-prone area.  Now, in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, I wonder whether the canal or the nearby rivers have spilled over onto the paths, and the land around it. I also wonder how many of those trees are still standing.

Although I haven't ridden the D&R in a long time, I hope that a favorite ride of my past doesn't become merely a memory.  For that matter, I hope the same fate doesn't befall the Rockaways, Point Lookout or Coney Island.

When Chattering Bike Geeks Perform A Public Service

If your bike is stolen in New York City, you have about a two percent chance of getting it back.  

Agata Slota didn't expect to beat those odds.  Her bike--which her brother built for her--was lifted near Union Square five years ago.  She posted an ad and photo on Craigslist.  A week later, they expired and she had not received any responses. She and her boyfriend started to plan on a replacement.

However, a friend posted the photo and an announcement of the theft on an online chat room for fixed-gear enthusiasts.  Several weeks later, someone posted a response after seeing Ms. Slota's bike locked up outside a Quizno's restaurant in Midtown.  This led to a series of a series of messages that resulted in Ms. Slota getting her bike back.

Jack Drury, a former bike messenger who was interning at Transportation Altenatives, was one of the people who read the post.  He went to the Quizno's restaurant.  The bike wasn't there, but on a hunch, he went inside and talked to the person behind the counter, who said the bike belonged to a delivery man who paid $200 for it. 

After negotiating a deal to buy the bike, Drury then enlisted a group of volunteers to go with him to the Quizno's, where the man with the bike was supposed to meet them.  He didn't show, but another employee told them about the man's second job as a dishwasher in an Upper West Side restaurant.  So Drury and his posse rode uptown where they met the man, who wasn't a very enthusiastic negotiator.  Drury then pulled out his cellphone and dialed the police.  While he was waiting to be connected, the man gave in.

Drury doesn't believe the man stole the bike and doesn't harbor any ill will toward him.  In fact, he offered the man one of his own bicycles and gave him his number. He hasn't heard back.

Needless to say, Ms. Slota has become more vigilant about bike theft.  From Drury, she learned not to lock her bike to a horizontal bar of a construction scaffold, as it is fairly easy to unscrew.  Better to lock it to the vertical post. 

She applied that lesson recently, when she saw two men admiring a Bianchi track bike in the way prospective thieves would.  When she asked the men about the bike, they took off.  Then, she got one of her own locks out of her office and secured the bike (which had been attached to the horizontal bar) to the vertical bar.    

She left a note with her phone number, and a message that she would unlock the bike after its owner called her.  Clearly, her own experiences motivated her to help prevent something similar (though with the probability of a less-happy outcome) from happening to somebody else.

And she's still riding the bike her brother built for her.

Cycling On Pavement--Or Sidewalks

Photo by Richard Drdul on Flickr

"Luv 2 Cycle"'s most recent post raises a very interesting issue.

Its author, Zandranna, is a pensioner who lives in the Dorset countryside and uses her bicycle as her only means of transportation.  In the post in question, she discusses Rule 64 of Britain's  1931 highway code, which forbids cyclists from cycling on pavement.

Being a Yank, I wondered, "Why would they keep cyclists off the roads?"  Then I remembered that in Albion, "pavement" refers to what most Americans call a "sidewalk."

As she points out, the rule made sense in 1931: Nearly everybody walked, and they used their bicycles for distances that were too great to walk.  Hence, pavements were full of couples and families out for a stroll or to shop, people going to work or school on foot, and children playing.  There was little automobile traffic, and it traveled at much slower speeds than today's vehicular throngs.  Moreover, she says, drivers were more conscious of cyclists, as most were, or had recently been, cyclists themselves.

On the other hand, she says, there is far less pedestrian traffic--in some places, practically none--today.  And for cyclists--especially older and less athletic ones--riding with fast-paced automobile traffic can be dangerous.

As I read her post, I thought about some of my experiences cycling in Florida.  As in Zandranna's Dorset, there is little pedestrian traffic outside of the downtown shopping districts of larger cities like St. Augustine or Daytona Beach.  Nearly everyone relies on motorized vehicles for transportation as well as recreation (sometimes to carry a bike to a trail!), and drivers routinely exceed speed limits. 

Interestingly, some of the concrete ribbons that would be sidewalks or pavement in other areas are designated as bike lanes.  Many of them cross driveways of houses, some of which are set a considerable distance from the road.  And, of course, they cross intersections, which is not an ideal situation for the cyclist or driver.  The latter is anticipating, if anything, a pedestrian who will, of course, cross at a lower speed and in front of stopped traffic.   And, in Florida, pedestrians--particularly senior citizens--pause at intersections, even when they have the green light.

In addition, in Florida (at least the parts I've cycled), drivers are allowed to make right turns at red lights.  This is particularly dangerous for cyclists who are crossing from a sidewalk as a pedestrian would.  When a light turns as a cyclist crosses a traffic lane and motor vehicles begin to make right turns on red, at least the cyclist and motorists can merge safely.  A cyclist who begins to cross from a sidewalk or pedestrian lane runs a much greater risk of getting clipped if the light turns and motorists begin to make right turns.

I've noticed the same hazard on poorly-designed bike lanes that are separate from traffic lanes or sidewalks.  They often end in, or cross, intersections in the same way as a sidewalk or crosswalk would.  The Dutch, Danes and Swiss--and, to a lesser degree, the Germans and French--seem to have eliminated such hazardous crossings from most of their bike lanes.  At least, I don't recall encountering so many such crossing as I have in Florida or even here in New York.

Even Better Than Walking On Water

I don't remember whether I heard or read this bit of advice: Never ride through water if you can't see the bottom.

I'm sure most of you have heard something similar, perhaps in a parental lecture.  Yet, I'm sure most of you have gone against that admonition at some time or another.  I know I have on numerous occasions, with and without fenders and raingear.

It's almost inevitable that you'll ride through some inundated pothole, or slosh through some area where water has backed up because of a stopped or overflowing drain, especially if you use your bike as a vehicle after a storm like Sandy or the Nor'easter that's raging up this way.  If you've spent any amount of time riding off-road--especially if you ride cyclo-cross or  cross-country, as I did--you're almost certain to slice across a stream or muck your way through a marshy area.  And you more than likely won't know what you've gotten yourself into until you're soaked or covered with mud!

A British cyclist in the Lake District took the challenge of riding through a (visually, anyway) bottomless body of water.  Sixteen-year-old Matt Whitehurst claims he rode across 75 foot-deep Lake Buttermere last July.

He claims that Photoshop was not involved in any way, shape or form. 

What's that lump under his rear tire?  Could he be on the back (or head) of the Loch Ness Monster?  Hmm...If that's the case, does his feat qualify as cycling--or surfing?