It's Here: The Randall's Island Connector!

OK, I won't be sarcastic. Or snarky. I'll even try to dispense with irony. (Actually, if you're trying, it isn't irony anyway.)  I'll be appreciative, maybe even polite and respectful, too. 

But, I must admit, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You see, something I never thought would happen in my lifetime came to pass.  No, I'm not talking about $200-a-month apartments on the Upper East Side.  Or a sale at Sotheby's.  Or that Congress will pass legislation banning the production of any new movie with "Ocean's" in the title--or any sequel or remake. Or that gender theorists will stop using any form of the word "performative".

So what is this epochal event to which I'm referring?

 

 

The bicycle/pedestrian bridge from Randall's Island, a.k.a the Randall's Island Connector (catchy, isn't it?) to the Bronx has just opened.   I used to joke that it's been under construction ever since the island (and the rest of North America) split off from Pangaea.  All right, that's an exaggeration.  But it did seem to take longer to build than Stonehenge or the Great Wall of China. 

 

So, of course, I just had to cross it, just to be sure that I wasn't having a flashback from something I don't remember taking.

It spans the Bronx Kill between the island and 132nd Street, just a couple of blocks east of where the RFK Bridge bike/pedestrian lane enters the Bronx.  What makes this new bridge better is that it's flat, lets pedestrians and cyclists off in a less-trafficked area than the RFK Bridge does and has much better sight lines.

 

 

Interestingly, it has a grade-level railroad crossing on the Bronx side. If the bridge is ever shut down for a passing train, it could take a while to open:  The bridge enters, and the train tracks cut through, an industrial area and trains can be more than a 100 cars long.  Just as interestingly, the bridge runs underneath an Amtrak trestle.  The effect is enigmatic:  like being in an open-air (at the sides) tunnel.

I wonder whether the RFK Bridge lane will be kept open.  Even though it has a rather steep ramp with sharp turns and is rather squalid, it's better to have it as an option if, indeed, one has to wait an hour for a train to pass through the Bronx side of the new bridge.  Plus, this is one bike lane that purely and simply makes sense, a trait not shared by many other bike and pedestrian lanes.

I know, I said I wouldn't be sarcastic. Or snarky.  Oh, well.  I tried.

So Winter Starts...Now?

The Winter Solistice will come at 11:48 pm--just twelve minutes before midnight--in this part of the world.   As I'm not a Druid, I'm not going to engage in some ritual or another unless I'm at Stonehenge--which doesn't seem likely.  It's hard to think of the coming of winter when the early-morning low temperature was higher than the typical high temperature for this day, and is still climbing well after sunset.

What's even stranger is that weather forecasters say the weather will continue to get warmer all the way until Christmas Eve, when the high temperature is projected to pass the old record (17C, or 63F) for the date by about 5C, or 8F.  Christmas Day is predicted to be almost as warm.

That leads me to wonder whether we'll have an exceptionally mild winter--or whether we'll have this spell of warm weather before temperatures plunge and we have a major snowstorm some time after New Year's Day.

In other words, will my winter rides look like this:

or this?:

Gambling With Cyclists' Lives: Cara Cox Lost Hers

Here in New York City, those of us who ride often complain about the conditions of bike lanes and streets, and about the seeming hostility or cluelessness of some drivers.  While we all have our stories about the perils of the street, my experiences of cycling in other parts of the US have shown me that, poorly-conceived bike lanes notwithstanding, we have it a little better than riders in other parts of the country.

Other municipalities and states, I believe, actually are more hazardous than the Big Apple.  One reason, I think, is that much of the nation, particularly in parts of the South and West, are more automobile-centric than this city.  Cyclists are still seen  as anomalies in many places. As a result, drivers don't know what to do when they see us.  Some even feel resentment and hostility toward us for being on "their" roadway.

One city with such conditions, it seems, is Las Vegas.  I was there once, nearly three decades ago, and from what I understand, the city's permanent population has exploded and, as a result, traffic is much denser than it was back then.  So it's not surprising that I've been hearing and reading that 'Vegas has a "problem" with bike-car collisions and that it has a large number of fatlities in proportion to its population.

Cara Cox

The latest such casualty is Cara Cox, who was struck by a 74-year-old motorist more than two months ago.  She lay in a coma until her death the other day.  Ms. Cox thus became the ninth cyclist to be killed by a motorist in the Las Vegas area this year. A month before  her accident, 500 cyclists particpated in a safety awareness rally and ride in nearby Summerlin.  The eighth cyclist to be killed, Matthew Hunt, brought them together. "[M]atthew did everything right," according to his brother, Jason. "At this point, it's up to the drivers to pay attention," he added.

That some don't is the reason someone like Alan Snel can say, "Every bicyclist I know can share a story about a motorist endangering their safety."  Mr. Snel is a self-described "cyclist who pays the bills as a newspaper writer/reporter" who has written about Ms. Cara, Mr. Hunt and others who died after being struck by cars victims--as well as other stories about cycling in the area--for the Las Vegas Review-Journal.  He also writes a blog, Bicycle Stories, where I learned about Ms. Cara's tragic death.

"For the life of me, I can't understand how society accepts killed cyclists," he writes, "as just part of the regular carnage out there on the roads."

I couldn't have said it any better.  I hope that the day comes when there will be no need to say it at all.

Who Is Santa Claus? The Bike Lady!

Friends, neighbors and co-workers who don't ride bikes refer to me--sometimes affectionately, other times derisively--as "The Bike Lady".

Of course, I don't mind the title at all.  But they should know who the real Bike Lady is.

She's a single mother who lives with her two kids near Columbus, Ohio.  Since 2008, she and her donors have been providing bikes, helmets and locks to the Holiday Wishes program of the Franklin County Children Services, and to other protective services that help abused, neglected and abandoned children. 

Last year, Kate Koch expanded her reach beyond her home turf and into the Tri State (Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana) region, which encompasses Cincinnati and Louisville.  Many of the kids who receive  the bikes probably never imagined they'd get anything at all, let alone a two- or three-wheeler, for Christmas.  Even with all of the electronic toys now available, getting a new bike at Christmas is still a dream for many boys and girls. And, were it not for Kate Koch, a.k.a. Bike Lady, it would be nothing more than a dream.




Her organization--called Bike Lady--accepts donations of bikes as well as money, which is used to buy bikes, helmets and locks at wholesale cost.  Of course, Bike Lady--Ms. Koch as well as the organization--are at work all year on the project so that the Bike Lady can be Santa.

When A Cassette Becomes A Nutcracker

It's one of two pieces of Christmas music to which I could listen all year long. Handel's Messiah is the other.

You might have guessed the other:  The Nutcracker. I know, it's a ballet, and one really should go to a theatre or concert hall for a performance.  It is quite the spectacle.  I realize, however, it's not always possible to attend a staging.  Lucky for us, the music is very, very listenable. 

That the music, by itself, is so thrilling is not a surprise when you realize who wrote it:  Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Marius Pepita choreographed the original production of the ballet, which is based on a story written by E.T.A. Hoffmann  and adapted by Alexandre Dumas, who is probably best known as the author of The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers. 

"That's all really nice," you might be thinking, "but why is she writing about it in this blog?"

Well, on this date in 1892, The Nutcracker premiered in the Imperial Marinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg, Russia (not Florida!).  Since then, it has been performed in ways that even Tchiakovsky himself, with his fertile imagination, probably never envisioned.  Here is one of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies:



Can you believe it was actually played on bicycle parts?  Cables and spokes were plucked for the stringed instrument sections, a disc brake hit simulates a triangle and percussion sections are really gears shifting, braking, shoes being clipped into pedals and other sounds familiar to those of us who ride.

San Francisco-based composer Flip Baber created this piece for Specialized, who wanted a Christmas music made only from bike sounds.  It became the company's musical Christmas card in 2006.

The Wright Day For A Couple Of Bike Mechanics

You probably know what happened on this date in 1903:  the Wright Brothers made the first controlled, powered and sustained heavier-than-air human flight in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.

It's often said, inaccurately, that the flight the Brothers made that day was the "first" flight.  Actually, people had flown for centuries before that in gliders, hot-air balloons and other airborne vehicles.  But those flights were wholly dependent on the speed and direction of the wind; they had no other power source and therefore could be kept up only for very limited amounts of time.  Other would-be inventors tried to make airplanes or gliders with wings that flapped or could otherwise be made to propel or steer them.  Needless to say, they proved unsuccessful.

The real innovations in the Wright Brothers' plane were that its wings were fixed,  it was powered by something other than the wind and that controls (which the Brothers invented) regulated the course of the flight. 

That control--known as the three-axis control-- may have been the most important innovation of all:  It's still used on all fixed-wing aircraft, from crop dusters to the Boeing 787 Dreamliner and the Airbus A 380. It's the reason that every one of those planes can keep their equilibrium, a.k.a. balance, throughout a flight.  If an aircraft can't be balanced, it can't fly.

Now...Think of another vehicle that can't move forward unless it's balanced.

Since you're reading this blog, the bicycle is probably the first such vehicle that came to  mind.  So, it should come as no surprise that the Brothers were bicycle mechanics and, later, manufacturers.  They studied motion and balance using bicycles in their homemade wind tunnel. Knowing this shatters the common misperception that when Shimano and other bicycle parts manufacturers, as well as bicycle makers, were making "aerodynamic" equipment, they were following the lead of the aerospace industries.  In fact, as we have seen, the Wright Brothers and other inventors were studying the aerodynamics of the bicycle eight decades before Shimano or other companies paid heed.

So...The next time you see an aerodynamic bike or part, you can thank (or blame) Orville and Wilbur Wright.

Riding Cyclo-Cross Because They Had No Other Choice

From New York City, you can ride north for three days or so (or drive about five hours) and come to Lake George, often called "The Queen of American Lakes". 

There's another lake in the area:  Placid.  Most of you know that the town named for the lake hosted the Winter Olympics, most famously in 1980, when an underdog US Hockey Team beat the mighty Soviet squad.  (Many people mistakenly think that the upset occurred in the championship game because the meme "The US beat the Soviet Union for the Gold Medal" has been repeated so many times.  The Yanks' victory over the Soviets actually came in the semi-finals.)  Lake Placid was also the site of the third Winter Olympiad, in 1932.

Even when there aren't Olympics Games in session, a trip to the lakes and the town--and to surrounding Warren County--is worthwhile.  Located in the Adirondacks, the area offers some of the most beautiful fall foliage anywhere as well as all sorts of stunning mountain and lake vistas, as well as many opportunities for hiking, cycling, skiing, canoeing and other outdoor activities. 

There was a time, though, when nearly all of the economic activity in Warren County related to farming (especially dairy) and logging.  Hardly any of the county's municipalities, including Lake George, Queensbury (the present county seat) and even Glens Falls were barely hamlets, and none of the few roads were paved.  During the spring rains, riders of high-wheelers sometimes found themselves slogging through mud that came up to the hubs of their tall front wheels.

Can you imagine cyclo-cross on a high-wheeler?  I imagine riding under the conditions I've described were difficult enough on a bike with two wheels of equal size.  That might be the reason why, in the days of the first American Bike Boom, a Glens Falls boy named Harry D. Elkes became a World Champion.

 

In 1964, Howard Mason wrote about Elkes and his upstate New York milieu.  Mason could recall the first bicycle he ever saw--a high-wheeler--some seventy-five years earlier.  He also mentioned a cycle industry that flourished in the area in spite of the sparse population and the fact that, for much of the year, cycling was all but impossible, given the road conditions and the bicycles available at that time, not to mention the spring rains I've mentioned and the heavy snows that fall from October through April.  It was particularly interesting to read about one dealer who, even decades after the Bike Boom died out, wanted no part of the auto business "because of the service after a sale".  Cars, and tires especially, were not very reliable in those days.

You can read more about the world of cycling in the 1890's in Warren County on the county Historical Site's website.  "Such were the so-called 'good old days' of the '90's," Mason wrote.  "You may have them."

When I Was A Night Messenger (Sort Of)

As I've mentioned in other posts, I was a bicycle messenger in Manhattan for a year. 

I was so, so young then.  I can say that now:  Many more years have passed since I made my last delivery than I had spent in this world before I made it.  Sometimes I wonder, though, if I've really made any progress since then or whether I've simply found jobs and other situations in which my quirks and flaws work for me, or are simply overlooked.

Perhaps the real reason I can say now that I was so young when I did it is that, really, I couldn't do anything else at that time in my life.  Rarely could I spend more than a couple of minutes with another person, or doing nearly anything else besides riding my bike without feeling anger or sadness or both.  In the space of not much more than a year, two people who were very, very dear to me had died--one suddenly, the other mercifully--and another committed suicide.  The only sort of job I could work was one in which I had only momentary interactions with people who could have told me that I was "wasting" my life by doing what I was doing or that, really, it was all I could do, all I could ever do.  I could satisfy people only for moments, episodically, and I simply had to do a job in which I would be remunerated for doing so.

Those--even more than my physical changes--are reasons why I couldn't do that job today, although sometimes I wish I could.  I understand now how it would be too easy for me to continue with a job in which I give and receive momentary satisfactions and rewards, not think about the future and not have to think about whether or not I was at my best because, really, there was no better or worst, only getting that next package, that next document, that next slice of pizza (Yes, I delivered a couple of those!) to the whoever needed it within the next fifteen minutes--and to never, ever think about it again, or at least until someone else--or even the same person--ordered such a delivery later in the day, the following day, the following week. 

In short, there was no future.  And there was no past because, really, no one else cared about anything else, as long as he (most of our customers were men) got a timely delivery. It didn't matter that I was a creative genius who had not been recognized or that I was stupid enough to believe I was one and angry enough to feel that others less deserving (which included just about everybody else) were being recognized and rewarded in ways I wasn't.

If I would have changed anything about my job, I would have wanted to work at night.   There was something I liked about navigating the city's byways in the dark--or by streetlights, anyway, and the shadows they and the nightlights of small offices and furnished rooms cast.  Of course, had I worked at night, I probably would have been making even more of those runs to then-seedy parts of the city (or to more gilded places with their own written codes of omerta) with envelopes and small packages, all the while pretending (or telling myself) I had no idea of what was in them.

There's nothing new about that aspect of being a bicycle messenger, a job that's been around for almost as long as the bicycle itself.  Back in the days of the first Bike Boom in the US (roughly from the mid-1880s until the first years of the 20th Century), night messengers delivered telegrams for telegraph offices.  They also, not surprisingly, ran side errands, such as fetching cigarettes and delivering "notes". I put quotation marks around that word because nightclubs, brothels and other establishments that operated after, say, 10pm sent and received them. So they were "notes" in the same sense as some of those envelopes I found myself delivering to the same addresses over and over again.

Those messengers were, as often as not, pre-teen boys.   In those days, kids were put to work practically the day after they learned how to walk.  But for jobs like those of night messenger and chimney-sweeper, the boys were often recruited out of orphanages or "reform" schools.  In other words, they were the ones "nobody would miss".

Jacob Riis documented them, as well as other children, women and immigrants who worked in squalid and dangerous conditions, in How The Other Half Lives.    His eloquent writing and starkly, beautifully poignant photographs helped people to learn about the conditions in which people like the messenger boys lived and worked.  They also were instrumental in passing legislation such as the New York law--among the first of its kind--prohibiting people under the age of 21 from working as messengers after 10 pm.

A few times I made deliveries after that hour, or before the break of dawn. Somehow I don't imagine they were co-op sales agreements or copies of professionals' credentials.  I know, though, that even though I was old enough to work those hours, I was still very, very young.

A May Ride In December?

I was riding in shorts and a short-sleeved top.

No, I didn't start my holiday visit to my parents in Florida early.  (Actually, in their part of Florida, there is no guarantee I'd have such weather at this time of year.)  Rather, I took a ride which I've ridden (and written about) a number of times:  to Point Lookout and back.

The temperature reached 20C (68F).  For some perspective, the old record for this date was 16C (62F), which was surpassed before 11 am.

Interestingly, it didn't feel as warm as I'd expected.  Some of that had to do with the wind, which, coming from the southeast, I pedaled into most of my way out. Also, riding by the sea, where local water temperatures are around 10C (50C) makes the air seem cooler.  For perspective, in early August, the water temperature reaches 23-24C (72-75F) and in early March falls to 3-5C (37-40F). 

On such a pleasant Sunday, I wasn't surprised to see more people than one would normally expect to see at the beaches.  They weren't swimming, but I noticed that some people weren't wearing much more than I was.  Also, a pretty fair number of young men (mostly) clad in wetsuits rode the waves.

I don't mean to boast when I say that even though I was pedaling into winds of 8 to 12KPH (14 to 20 MPH) most of the way out, I was pedaling rather effortlessly in my big chainring and on the sixth and seventh gears of my nine-speed cassette.  Am I starting to regain some of my old strength?  Or was it because I just felt so good to be on my bike on such a beautiful day?  I would be happy to accept either explanation, or no explanation at all.

Everything was so lovely that even seeing brown and yellow stems and leaves didn't seem so discordant with the spring-like warmth. 

Nor did the almost-winter light or the shortness of the day.

And I was riding Arielle.  Even a name like that is enough to make me feel as if I'm flying.  But, she's a great ride and, of course, the wind into which I rode on my way out pushed at my back and carried me home.

I really should have been grading papers.  Oh, well.



 

A Couple Of Views From The Saddle

Is a ride ever defined by what you see on the horizon?

During the past week, I pedaled into two very different, yet distinctly of-this-season-vistas.

As I pedaled north on the Hudson River Greenway, the sun--invisible even in the cloudless sky--refracted off the dull metallic surface of the river and shrouded the towers of the George Washington Bridge about three miles in front of me.

The other day, I was rolling down 38th Street in Astoria, just a few blocks from my apartment.  There sun, again invisible, would make its presence known only through the bare branches of the tree a mile or so down the street.


Are these the dying embers of a season, of a year?

All I Want For Christmas....

I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I got a bicycle for Christmas.

It's not that I didn't like the bike.  If anything, getting it made me like it even better--and made me more anxious and sadder.  Why?  Well, it was way too big for me.  Like most kids, I wanted to be like grown-ups--or, at least, kids who were older than I was.  The prospect of being able to ride my new Royce Union three-speed (with 26" wheels) tantalized me as much the dream of ascending Mount Everest intrigues and excites mountaineers.

All right... The fact that I got a bike I couldn't ride didn't make me doubt the existence of Santa Claus in the way I would later doubt the existence of God because I have the kind of mind and spirit I have in the kind of body I have.  Rather, I found my faith in Jolly Old Saint Nick dashed a couple of years earlier, when I was walking down Fifth Avenue (in Brooklyn) and saw four Santas--one black, another Puerto Rican--on the same block.

Anyway...I'm sure many of you got bikes that didn't fit, or weren't right for you in some other way, for Christmas.  I'm also certain that many of you found, under your family's tree, a two-wheeler you could hop on and ride immediately.   (Of course, if you lived in one of those places that typically were blanketed with snow during the holiday season, you had to wait a few weeks or months to ride.)  That, I imagine, is still--what with all of the electronic toys available--many a kid's fantasy.

I also imagine that some of you, when you were wee lads or lasses, found three-wheelers under your family's tinsel-wreathed evergreen boughs.  I have vague memories of riding a trike but, as best as I can remember, it wasn't a Christmas present.  In fact, given my family's circumstances at the time, it might have been a hand-me-down from a cousin or neighbor, not that I would have known the difference.

Somehow I don't imagine that as many kids dreamed of getting trikes as getting bikes.  But, if any kid had such fantasies, somehow I don't think it would run to something like this:




If anything, I'd bet that some parents with deep purses or pockets fantasize about buying something like the Vanilla Trike because, well, they could. And I suppose that even the best-heeled (best-tired?) of them wouldn't let their kids ride it.  First of all, it's an object d'art--or, at least, a piece de l'artisanat.  It belongs in a curio cabinet or on a coffee table, not on a sidewalk or in a park.  Second, what kid would know or care that he or she is riding a bike with a hand-brazed Chromoly frame, Brooks saddle, Campagnolo headset and Phil Wood hubs?




Not exactly your typical doormat, is it?

Of course, it's beyond a mere indulgence.  Still, I don't want to seem as if I'm mocking it or resenting anyone who can afford it.  Hey, if I could spend $10,000 without blinking an eye, I'd buy one, too.  Even if I never could ride it.  Even if it's not something I fantasized about when I was a kid.

Deck The Halls With...

Two weeks from today is Christmas Day.

I'll admit, I don't do much holiday decorating.  Part of it has to do with time constraints:  The holiday season coincides with the end of the semester. So, while other people are stringing lights and hanging globes and stars and such from trees, I'm grading papers, reading exams and explaining to students why they're not getting credit for a course in which they didn't attend half of the sessions and turned in the whole semester's work on the last day of class.

All right, I'll stop whining.  I didn't do a lot of decorating even when I wasn't teaching.  When I do have time, I'd rather ride, read, write or see people than to spend hours putting up things I'll have to take down a couple of weeks later.

Still, I sometimes like looking at other people's work and even admire some of those really over-the-top displays you can see in those New-York-City-in-name-only neighborhoods.

Then, of course, there are ornaments related to bicycles. Basically, they fall into two categories:  those that are made to look like bicycles and those that are made from parts of actual bicycles.  The latter category includes the sub-genre that might be called 1001 Uses For Bicycle Chains:

When ordering, be sure to specify 12, 11, 10, 9, 8/7/6/5 speed or 1/8".

In the category of ornaments that look like bikes (and riders), here are some interesting ones:

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Now, this one isn't specifically a Christmas ornament:

but I believe it conveys the sentiment of this season:

Cycling And Recycling

Whenever I can, I volunteer with, donate to and buy from Recycle-A-Bicycle.  They, like similar programs in other places, re-use old bikes and parts that might otherwise have ended up in landfills. 

In my mind, bicycles and recycling are always linked.  Perhaps that's because the time when I first became a dedicated cyclist--the 1970s Bike Boom--also witnessed the first attempts to make recycling a mainstream idea. The first Earth Day several years earlier got people (some, anyway) to thinking about the environment.   People started using words like "ecology" and "pollution" in everyday conversations and started to see the value of things like emissions standards.

The problem was that both cycling and recycling became popular mainly among the young, the highly-educated and the upper-middle-class (or what someone I used to know called "The Volvo Set").  Blue-collar families and communities almost never included cyclists who were old enough to have drivers' licenses.  Also, they, like many whose lives were day-to-day struggles to survive, saw recycling and environmentalism as trifles of the elite. So, when the oil-price shocks of the mid and late '70s sent gas prices to levels Americans had never before imagined, instead of cycling or walking to work or for errands, working-class people clung ever more tightly to their automobiles, and saw environmentalism and recycling as threats to their ever-more-precarious job security.

Ronald Reagan and his conservative allies played on those fears and overlaid them with the notion that conservation was inherently un-Christian. Also, during that time, the price of petroleum and other commodities dropped or remained the same (so that they essentially became less expensive to those whose incomes were rising).  That further eroded whatever incentive people might have had to conserve and re-use.  In fact, because the cost of finding new petroleum and other natural resources had declined, it was actually much cheaper to manufacture new plastic, glass and other materials than it was to recycle them.  

It was also during that time that the number of adult cyclists, and the bike market, stagnated or even declined.  Sure, some of us were still riding for fun and transportation.  But, for years, we rarely saw new faces among those who were pedaling to work or the park.

During the past decade or so, the number of people choosing bikes instead of cars or even mass transportation has increased, at least in large urban areas.  Paris and other cities began their bike share programs, and new bike shops opened with a (and some established bike shops shifted their) focus on "city" bikes and other utilitarian bicycles.  At the same time, people started to take environmental concerns seriously in the wake of unusual weather and natural (as well as manmade) disasters.  Cities and towns began mandatory recycling programs, and increasing numbers of people have begun to make (or try to make) more environmentally-conscious choices in the ways they live, work, shop and get around.

It will be interesting to see whether the current interest in cycling and recycling continues if prices of petrol or other commodities continue to fall, or if we manage to halt or reverse environmental degradation.

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town--Without Dasher, Danner, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Dunder and Vixem--Or Rudolph

Nearly two years ago, Bill de Blasio became the Mayor of New York City.  Practically from the moment he assumed the office (or so it seems), he promised to ban horse carriages like the ones that carry tourists through and around Central Park.

He's faced a lot of opposition.  About two weeks ago it was revealed that he's backing down and seeking only a partial ban, whatever that may mean.

As you can imagine, animal rights activists aren't happy.  I can't blame them:  After all, horses simply weren't meant to walk on asphalt or concrete or to breathe smog.  (The streets around Central Park have some of the heaviest vehicular traffic in New York.)  They are used to help perpetuate a romantic fantasy about New York:  In the days when people rode carriages because there weren't other means of transportation (except, perhaps, for the horses themselves), this city was a darker, more dangerous and more squalid than it is now--unless you were very, very wealthy.

I have to wonder, though, how the animal rights activists (with whom I am in sympathy most of the time) would react to Santa and his reindeer.  Now, because Donner, Blitzen, et al, fly through the air, their hooves aren't subjected to the impact that horses experience on Gotham streets.  On the other hand, they are flying (I assume) at high altitudes. That means there would be less oxygen for them to breathe.  Also, the effects of pollutants are magnified--which, in turn, could initiate or magnify respiratory conditions.

I think I might have found a solution for Santa--and Bill de Blasio--that just might make the animal rights activists happy:

From Bing images.

Imagine!

Who said this?:

 "As a kid I had a dream – I wanted to own my own bicycle. When I got the bike I must have been the happiest boy in Liverpool, maybe the world. I lived for that bike. Most kids left their bike in the backyard at night. Not me. I insisted on taking mine indoors and the first night I even kept it in my bed."

One clue might be "Liverpool".  I mean the one in England, not the one in upstate New York (where the locals joke that their town is so named because it has the same kind of weather as the British port city).  When you think of people from Liverpool, who comes to mind first?

OK, you can be forgiven for saying "William Gladstone" or "Clive Barker"--or, for that matter, Kate Sheppard or Peter Shaffer.  But if you're of my generation and know even less than I do about British or women's history, there is only one answer you can give.

That answer is, of course, The Beatles.  And who was the most literate and articulate of the "Fab Four".  You guessed it:  John Lennon.

 

Somehow it's not a surprise that he had such a dream, or was so happy that it was realized.  He had his flaws, but in the end, I think he really meant what he wrote in "Imagine". 



Ironically and tragically, a deranged man with a gun ended his life, thirty-five years ago today.  

The ensuing years have not lessened the shock of his murder.  I often find myself playing his songs in my mind--or even humming or singing them--as I ride and do other things.  It's appropriate, I think:  If more people, especially in developed countries, rode bikes to work, school, shop, or simply for fun, we might come closer to having the sort of world he envisioned. 

The Attack That Deflated Balloon Tires

Seventy-four years ago today, the Japanese Imperial Navy launched a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor.  Well, it was a surprise to most people, but some who were "in the know" saw the United States and Japan edging toward war for months before the attack.

Winston Churchill could barely conceal his glee:  At last the Americans would join his fight against Japan's nominal allies, Germany and Italy.  Never before, and never since, have Americans been so willing to go to war against another country.

It's almost a cliché to say that the attack, and US involvement in the World War, would change almost everything about American society and culture.  As an example, it could be argued that the War had as much of a role as any other event in bringing about the Civil Rights movements of the 1950s and 1960s.  Black American soldiers could sit at any café or pub table in Europe, but were separated from fellow citizens lighter than themselves within their own armed forces, not to mention in schools and other public places in their home towns, cities and states. 

Also, the war turned the wave of blacks migrating from the south to the north into a tidal wave, changing the face of numerous communities all over the United States. Having large numbers of African Americans concentrated in urban neighborhoods would make it easier for leaders to organize marches and other kinds of protests than it had been when the same people were dispersed over miles of southern countryside.  (Remember, this was decades before the Internet and Facebook!)

Now, since this is a bike blog, I have to tell you how the attack on Pearl Harbor--and the War--changed cycling, at least in this country.  At the time, the average adult bicyle weighed 57 pounds (about 26 kilos).  The government decreed that those bikes would be made ten pounds lighter, and that production of children's bicycles would cease altogether for the duration.

The reason for this change was that bicycles were being used in the military, and a lighter bike is easier to transport and maneuver.  Also, it used less of the materials that were rationed during wartime.   Those restrictions, of course, made fewer bicycles available for civilians to buy, but those who were able to get them discovered that they liked the lighter bikes.  Manufacturers took notice and started to make bikes lighter still.

Further accelerating the change in American bicycles were the machines service members saw--and sometimes brought back from--the places in which they fought.  The majority of the bikes to come to our shores came from England, but a few others came from Continental European countries.  Those bikes--yes, even the English three-speed and French "ballon" bikes--were lighter than the "lightweight" models American manufacturers were making during the war.

Could it be that if Pearl Harbor hadn't been attacked, we might still be riding on those balloon-tired Schwinns, Columbias and Huffys?  Hmm....

(Note:  I mean no offense to any of you who still remember--or experienced--the tragedies of that day that "will live on in infamy"!)

 

I Should Feel Guilty About This, But...

I know I should be worried about climate change. After all, so much of the world's economy, agricultural and otherwise, as well as much in our cultures, depends on the weather patterns we've had during the past few milennia.  If we in Western countries think we're having a "refugee crisis" now, to paraphrase Al Jolson, "We ain't seen nothin' yet."  We're just another drought or monsoon away from a veritable tidal wave of people with nothing. And, to quote the immortal Bob Dylan, "When you ain't got nothing, you've got nothing to lose".

But it's hard not to enjoy some things about climate change.  As an example, this fall has been warmer than normal in this part of the world. It seems that, for the past couple of decades or so, just about every season has been significantly warmer or colder or wetter or drier than normal.  This fall, so far, has been warmer and, I think, drier.  If I didn't see the wreaths and lights and decorations people have hung in their windows and doors and from lampposts during the past week or so, I would have a hard time telling that we're less than three weeks from Christmas.

Maybe it has to do with the way the leaves, which cover everything but the trees they fell from, flicker in the sun. Or with the fact that even the coldest night we've had so far didn't even give a hint of impending winter storms.  

It was another nice day to ride.  And I did. How could I not?  I tried to worry more about climate change.  Really, I did.

What Holiday Is It Today?

Surely you've heard someone say, "You learn something new every day". 

What, exactly, does anyone learn on any given day?  It may be a bit of information or a new skill.  Or, perhaps, a new way of doing, expressing or simply looking at, something one has always known.  For better or worse, we might learn something about our selves or someone else.

Sometimes it seems that I learn every day is a holiday or feast day I've never heard  of before.  Maybe it has to do with my Catholic upbringing:  I don't think any religion has more feast days or saints' days.  It wouldn't surprise me to know that I never even knew about most of them!

Just for the heck of it,  I checked to see whether there's a
"Saint Justine Day".  Sure enough, the 7th of October is the day on which Santa Giustina di Padova is commemorated.  Like many other saints, Giustina was canonized for converting someone prominent  (Cyprian, the pagan magician of Antioch) and her martyrdom.  Hmm...I'm not sure I want to martyr myself for anything.  As for conversions...well, I converted myself:  I used to be a guy named Nicholas.  I know, that's not the kind of conversion the College of Cardinals has in mind. 

(By the way, St. Nicholas Day is tomorrow. Yes, it's the 6th, not the 25th, of this month!)

So, is there a holiday today?

Turns out, there is, in the cycling world--at least a part of it.  If you're not part of it, that's not the only reason you haven't heard of this holiday:  After all, Global Fat Bike Day was proclaimed for the first time only three years ago.

A "fatty" on a trail in Killington last year.

Now, while I don't envision myself becoming a Fat Bike rider (as distinguished from a fat bike rider) and thus won't celebrate, I am glad the holiday is being observed as it is.  You see, it hasn't been taken over by any commercial enterprise:  It's a grass-roots day, as Earth Day was in the beginning.  And, unless Fat Bikes become a major part of the bike market, that's probably how the holiday will remain.

Today is Saturday.  So, in two years, this holiday will fall on Tuesday. (Next year is a leap year.)  Will they call it "Fat Bike Tuesday" and ride up and down the streets of New Orleans?  Bon temps rouler, as they say in "The Big Easy".

 

Proof That The Dutch Don't Have Tunnel Vision

Some of us are fortunate enough to cycle to and from work. 

Of course, such an arrangement is not feasible for everyone.  So, some people ride their bikes to another mode of transportation, such as a train or bus, that takes them to their jobs.  It's been a while since I've been that type of commuter.  But my memories of it are not fond, in part because I wasn't crazy about the jobs I was working--but, more important, the companies and agencies that operated the bus and train lines I used didn't make it easy.

Back when I was a multi-mode commuter, the stations I used (on the Long Island Rail Road and New Jersey Transit) had no provisions for cyclists. You found a pole or parking meter to which you locked your bike:  pretty much the same ordeal you faced if you took a bus, as I did for a time when I was living in New Jersey.

Many train stations pose a further inconvenience to cyclists:  If the train line happens to follow a street you want to cross, you have to take a detour if the tracks and platforms are at or near street level.  

If someone had told me that, one day, my local station would be completely navigable by bicyle--yes, that you could pedal to the platforms or under them to go through the station--I would have wanted to inhale whatever that person was smoking.  Even today, I'd wonder whether someone making such a prediction had taken his or her medications beforehand.

Well, it turns out there is such a station.  The tracks and platforms are raised above the street level.  Underneath them, at street level, a tunnel for cyclists and pedestrians passes through--and provides access to the platforms.

That station is--where else?--in the Netherlands.



This testament to good planning is in the Den Haag HS railway station, in the Hague.  The tunnel runs between Waldorpstaat and Stationsplen/Parallelweg in the home of the UN's International Court of Justice.

I'd say the tunnel does plenty of justice to cyclists and pedestrians.