In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
As I've mentioned in other posts, tatoos aren't my thing. Sometimes I enjoy seeing other people's "tats", but I have never had any inclination to "get inked" myself. Perhaps I still hold, on some level, the attitudes I was inculcated with: that only sailors, Harley riders and other rough-and-tumble characters get themselves tatooed. If so, I don't know whether, let alone how or when, I'll change. But if I were going to use a part of my body as a "canvas", if you will, I might consider this:
This image, etched and painted in the King of Ink tatoo studio of Ankara, Turkey, depicts the late, great Miles Davis as the denizens of then-Bohemian Greenwich Village remember him: astride his bicycle, peering through his huge spectacles. Even if he didn't wear such distinctive outfits (never the same one more than once, according to people who recall him), he would have been a memorable sight on his bike. Still, it's hard to imagine that the sight of him was more memorable than his music!
I had luck with the wind again today. I was glad because it was stronger than it was yesterday. Or, perhaps, it just seemed that way because most of today's ride took me along shorelines. Also, the sky was even clearer than it was yesterday, and large bodies of water magnify the sun's rays. Sometimes I think long exposure to direct sunlight tires me out even more than the wind, or anything else. Anyway, I rode to Point Lookout today. It's not as long as the ride to Connecticut, and it's almost entirely flat. There is one fairly long gradual incline up Woodhaven Boulevard from Jamaica Avenue to Forest Park. Even though it's near the end of my ride, it isn't very arduous. Best of all, the wind was at my back, as it was from the time I turned on to the Veterans Memorial Bridge from Rockaway Beach. That meant, of course, that I pedaled into the wind on my way out, and that it blew from the Atlantic onto my right side on my way to the Point, and onto my left on my way back. The thing that struck me most about today's ride, though, was at Point Lookout. The tide was out--and I mean really out. There were no boats in the water. Most telling, though, was this:
A family picnic on the sandbar! I've never seen it so long or wide. It was like a boardwalk, with all of the people walking their dogs and toddlers toddling on it. Naturally, no one was fishing.
Now, I am no climate scientist. In fact, I can't claim to be a scientist of any sort. So perhaps I am revealing my ignorance in describing the observation you are about to read and the question I will pose from it. As I understand it, the extreme blizzards so many places experienced during the past few winters are actually a result of global warming: Increasing temperatures, especially in the oceans, are causing the atmospheric instability that leads to all kinds of storms, including blizzards and ice storms as well as hurricanes and tornadoes. So I wonder whether tides that are receding further out (I've noticed this in other places besides Point Lookout) are a result of the rising sea level. Just as the tides are higher and stronger, could the pull-back also be stronger--enough to pull the tides further from the shoreline when they recede? Again, I emphasize that I am not a scientist: What I am saying and asking is based entirely on observation and logic. Also, I know it doesn't directly relate to cycling. But what I see in the oceans, on the shorelines, in the hills or anyplace else is part of my rides. I can't help but to wonder what I will and won't see on future rides!
Today I rode Arielle, my Mercian Audax, to Greenwich, Connecticut. I am so lucky: I had the day this day off, and conditions were perfect, by almost anybody's definition: It wasn't too warm and on the way up, I rode into a breeze that flickered shadows of leaves and waves of light. And I sailed home, or so it seemed! I had no great epiphanies or revelations, just a good time. And I really didn't want much more. But I did notice something that somehow escaped me on previous rides. Greenwich Commons--the site of the war memorial and some lovely gardens--also has a few big, beautiful old trees. One of them towers over the gate. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw this:
Oh, no! I cried out loud. I thought the tree, which has stood for, probably, longer than anything else in the area, had a branch snapped off in a storm. I couldn't, however, recall any wind or rain we'd had recently that would have been strong enough to do such a thing--unless, of course, one of the storms that missed us in Astoria struck Connecticut.
Turns out, there was no break, no fracture, no rupture. The branch simply curved downward, possibly from its own weight. Whether it can remain that way, I don't know. Whatever happens, I hope it stands long enough for me to see it on another ride, and another, and another...
In previous posts, you might say that I've touched upon the sociology and demographics of cycling. What I wrote in those posts was not confirmed by empirical data; rather, it was based on my observations.
I realize now that, in one way or another, all of those posts relate to this question: Who cycles out of necessity, and who cycles by choice?
In one sense, you might say that I'm a cyclist of necessity: I can't imagine my life without riding. There is also another way in which I'm that sort of rider: I not only don't own a car; I also don't have a driver's license.
Those circumstances, however, are a result of choices I've made: Through most of my adult life, I have lived in large cities. When I haven't, I still managed--whether through choice or chance--to be in situations where I could get to work, school or wherever else I needed or wanted to be without having to drive.
Now, I must admit that I had the opportunity to make such choices. While I have never been rich (at least not by the standards of any developed country), I have education and skills--and, at times, have had the connections--that have allowed me some leeway in my choice of jobs and living arrangements. I have been able to turn down jobs, or leave one job for another, in order to have manageable (i.e., an hour or so on my bike or mass transit) commute--and to have time to ride my bike for fun.
It's also not hard to believe that my race and my former gender had something to do with my ability to base much in my life around cycling. After all, as I've recounted in some of my earlier posts, nearly all of the "serious" and recreational cyclists I used to see while riding during my youth were male. Even though I see increasing numbers of female cyclists (including sometime riding partners of mine), the vast majority are still male.
While there isn't a law prohibiting women from cycling, I think there are (yes, still are) some cultural deterrents, especially for women of certain backgrounds. Let's face it: Unless you have exceptionally thick skin, or are just extraordinary in some way, you aren't likely to do something unless you see someone who's like you, in whatever way, doing it. And unless you have an unusually independent sort of spirit, you probably won't do something if people around you give subtle (or not-so-subtle) cues not to do it. Just ask any woman who wanted to be an engineer but got steered into nursing or elementary school teaching--or being a stay-at-home mother.
(Mind you: I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with a woman working as a nurse or teacher, or staying at home with her children. If a woman is going to choose such a career, I want her to do exactly that: choose.)
Would I be a dedicated cyclist--one who takes day trips to neighboring states and tours in other parts of this country and the world-- today if I had grown up as a girl named Justine instead of a boy named Nicholas? Of course, I have no way of knowing the answer to that. I can't help but to think, though, given the milieu in which I, and other women my age were reared, that it would be less likely.
Likewise, I have to wonder whether I'd be riding because I can and because I want to had I grown up in a lower socio-economic class (You might say that I was blue collar-near the-threshold-of-middle class.) and not had the opportunities to expand my horizons (if not my bank account) that came my way. And, of course, I have to wonder whether those opportunities would have come to someone of my background had I been living in the gender I am now. Or if my skin had been darker. Or I spoke another language as my first, or had a different cultural or religious background from mine.
Jenna Burton
I found myself thinking about those questions a few days ago, when I wrote about the folks who are trying to make Reading, Pennsylvania more hospitable for those who ride because they have no other means of transportation: the very sorts of riders of whom most urban planners and cycling advocates are unaware. I am thinking about them, again, after coming across this article describing the work of Jenna Burton, one of the co-founders of Red, Bike and Green (RBG), as well as other community activists and groups who are working to not only get more people of color and women on bikes, but also to bring more cycling infrastructure to neighborhoods that are poorer and darker than the ones that usually get the bike lanes and bike-share ports.
RBG has expanded from Ms. Burton's adopted hometown of Oakland, California into other cities. With a slogan of "It's bigger than bikes!", the group aims to use bikes as tools to improve the health of Black people, support Black-owned businesses and to work on reducing pollution and other environmental problems that disproportionately affect Black and other "minority" communities.
Even more important, people like Ms. Burton and groups like the Ovarian PsychoCycles are trying to address some of the inequalities that accompany bicycle infrastructure inequalities. A Black or Hispanic cyclist has a 25 percent greater chance than a White cyclist of being killed while riding. That is, at least in part, a result of another disturbing reality: low-income areas (which are most likely to be Black or Hispanic) are where the most crashes involving cyclists and pedestrians take place. That, in spite of the fact that those are the places where people are least likely to walk or cycle (unless they have no other choice), or to do any other kind of exercise. Those neighborhoods are also where the most dangerous streets, with the highest rates of crashes, are found. That, along with other factors endemic to such communities--like high levels of noise and low air quality--tend to deter people from cycling, or engaging in other kinds of exercise or outdoor activities.
Ovarian Psycho-Cycles
So, perhaps, it's not an exaggeration to say that environmental, racial and economic justice, as well as gender equality, will be furthered by making it easier, more practical and more affordable for people from every sort of background to ride bicycles, for transportation and for recreation. In other words, it's not a stretch to say that if we want a better world, we can't leave it all up to white guys in spandex, though they can be valuable partners--and can even be a lot of fun. And I'm not saying that because I once was a white guy in Spandex!)
If you are of a certain age (i.e., my age), you recall the early years of Saturday Night Live. Some of the most memorable moments came during some of the shows-within-the-show.
One such show was "What If?", which took zany, absurd takes on historical figures and events. One episode featured Superman landing in Nazi Germany instead of Kansas; another had Napoleon fighting the Battle of Waterloo with a B 52 bomber. Perhaps the most famous episode of all was the "What If Eleanor Roosevelt Could Fly?" sketch.
That got me to thinking: What if the Wright Brothers couldn't--or didn't--fly?
Or what if they had stuck to their original occupations as bike mechanics and designers?
I found this propellered bike on Strangefunkidz.com, but couldn't find any other information about it. I'd love to know how it was built and how much it was ridden--or whether it's still intact!
