A Good Friday

Yesterday was Good Friday.  In all of the time I was in Catholic school, no one ever explained why it was called "Good."  I mean, if the person after whom the religion was named was executed on that day, what could be so good about that?

I was reminded of that while I was teaching Dante's Inferno this semester.  While it's usually read as a stand-alone book, it's really part of a trilogy--along with his Purgatorio and Paradiso--called the Commedia Divina.  Yes, the Divine Comedy.  Of course, students asked what was funny about it.  I explained that in ancient drama and epic poetry, a comedy is basically anything that isn't a tragedy.  Dante's trilogy proceeds from Hell to Purgatory to Heaven, which is a "happy" ending, if you will--which is what makes his work a "comedy."

I think that, in a similar way, the word "good" meant anything that had a felicitous conclusion.  According to Christian beliefs, the persecution and murder of Christ was "good" because it culminated in his resurrection.

Anyway, yesterday was a good day--in the sense most of us use that term today--because it was sunny and bright, if a bit breezy and cool.  So, I went for another coastal ride, this time to the Rockaways and, from there, to Breezy Point, Coney Island and Hipster Hook.  

I saw a lot of families, particularly Hasidic Jewish ones, on the boardwalks.  The kids ran, jumped rope and played all the games kids play, while their parents chatted and sometimes joined their kids.  As it happens, Passover is celebrated this week.

Anyway, I expected to see more cyclists than I did.  Maybe some didn't want to deal with the wind.  In any event, all of the action was on the boardwalk because the water is still too cold--about 8C (45F)--to swim.  Sometimes, on days like yesterday, one sees wet-suited surfers in the water.  Today I didn't see any.

I'm not complaining.  I had the best of both worlds:  I did a ride I've done many times before, and it felt great.  And, as I'd eaten only a croissant before riding, I worked up an appetite.  So the salsa (homemade) and chips I brought for my "picnic" sure tasted good.

I hope to have some more weather like I had yesterday before I go back to work next week! 

What Does It Take?

Not so long ago, I was actively writing another blog, Transwoman Times.  I have not given up on it, but I probably never will be as active on it as I once was--or as I am now on this blog.  

TT started off as a journal of the year leading up to my gender-reassignment surgery.  Then I wrote about, among other things, my life post-surgery.  But, as I had less and less to say about that, I found myself writing about any and all things related to gender identity and expression as well as sexual orientation.

That, I now realize, is one of the reasons I have not been writing on TT lately:  Too often, I found myself writing about people who were killed or suffered other forms of violence, not to mention discrimination and other kinds of bigotry, because of their actual or perceived gender identity or expression.  And, too often, I found myself recounting the indifference of law enforcement and other officials in the face of hate crimes--and of perpetrators who got off scot-free or slap-on-the-wrist punishments.

The latter is essentially what happened in the case of Alan Snel, the writer and cycling advocate who writes the Bicycle Stories blog.  The man who drove straight into his back didn't get so much as a ticket.  

Alan Snel in better times.

I guess the St. Lucie County authorities thought that because he was lying in a hospital bed, rather than six feet under, nothing serious had happened.  Now I'm starting to wonder whether the authorities in some places think that even turning cyclists into worm food isn't reason enough to bring charges against a motorist.

Back in June, I wrote about one of the more horrific instances of a motorist mowing down cyclists I've ever heard about.  Charles Pickett Jr. of Battle Creek, Michigan has been accused of plowing into a group of nine cyclists near Kalamazoo while intoxicated.  Of that group--who called themselves "The Chain Gang" and met for weekly rides--Debra Ann Bradley, Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Fred Anton ("Tony") Nelson, Lorenz John ("Larry:) Paulik and Suzanne Joan Sippel died.  

l to r:  Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Suzanne Sippel, Debra Bradley, "Tony" Nelson and "Larry " Paulik

Pickett was scheduled to go on trial later this month, with jury selection planned for the 24th and opening statements the following day.  Last month, however, his lawyer filed a notice to use the insanity defense.  That means Pickett has to undergo psychiatric evaluation for criminal responsibility, which means the trial had to be rescheduled.  Now jury selection is scheduled for the 18th of September and opening statements for the next day.  

That, after Pickett had been found competent to stand trial last August and ordered to stand trial in November.  Oh, and he has a previous DUI arrest--in 2011 in Tennessee--but the charges were dropped.

While I am all for due process, I still have to wonder what it takes for motorists who--whether through intoxication, carelessness or "road rage"--kill cyclists to be held accountable.

A Day In Court---For....?

Which is worse:

• laws, policies and regulations that govern cyclists but are conceived and enacted by people who don't ride bikes, or
• enforcement of said laws, policies and regulations by people who don't cycle?

A few months ago, I was caught in a "perfect storm", if you will, between the two.

It was around noon on a warm, late-summer day.  The sun shone brightly in a clear sky.  That meant something unusual for that time of the year in this part of the world:  very little humidity, which is probably the reason why I felt the light wind wasn't slowing me down, even though I was pedaling into it.  

At that moment, I was about two thirds of the way from my apartment to Greenwich, Connecticut.  So, unless that wind changed direction (it wouldn't), I could look forward to it giving me a "boost" on my way home.  Most important, though--at least at that moment--I was feeling really, really good:  I was astride Arielle, my Mercian Audax, and each pedal stroke seemed to invigorate me.  

Somewhere along  Halstead Avenue, one of the major thoroughfares in the Westchester County town of Harrison, I noticed a police officer perched on a motorcycle.  Alfred Hitchcock once said that if you are going to show a gun on a mantel, it has to be used to shoot somebody at some point during the movie.  I actually remember thinking about that--why, I didn't know--when I saw that officer.  

A couple of minutes later, I came to the town's major intersection: where Halstead crosses Harrison Avenue, next to the railroad station.  I saw trucks and construction crews on the other side of Harrison; as I approached the intersection, I could hear more trucks rumbling behind me.  

(Here is a Google image of the intersection, without the construction crews.)

Focusing on the construction work and trucks ahead of me, and seeing that no traffic was crossing Halstead from either side of Harrison Avenue, I increased my speed through the intersection so I could stay ahead of the trucks I'd heard rumbling behind me. I figured that I would be safer if they saw me ahead of them:  Truck drivers, in my experience, tend to be more careful than most drivers and give the right of way as long as they see you.  Also, I thought that if I crossed the intersection ahead of those trucks and whatever other traffic might be approaching behind me, I could more safely navigate the construction zone.

You can probably guess what happened next:  The cop on the motorcycle zoomed up alongside me.  At first, I didn't think anything of it.  Then he yelled, "You, on the bike.  Pull over!"  

I did. In front of a funeral home.  

"Let me see your license."

"What's the problem, officer?"

"You went through that red light."

"I did?"

He then lectured me about how New York State law says that bicycles are, in effect, vehicles and are governed in the same way.  That meant I had to stop for the red light at an intersection.  "You know, if there had been cross traffic, it could have ended really badly."

"But, officer, there wasn't any."

"You're still supposed to obey traffic signals."

I tried to explain to him that doing so could've landed me underneath one of those trucks.  He was hearing none of it.  Instead, he ran my license through his computer.  He ordered me to step back as he read the screen and printed out the summons.

"Have you ever dealt with the police before?"

"No, sir."   

Then, sotto voce, he told me to mail in the summons with a not guilty plea and the pre-trial date would be set.

Well, that day was the other day.  I went to the Harrison court house and stood on a line with about three dozen other people who had traffic summonses of one kind or another.  A man at a desk called each of us by name.  He called mine, and said that he was going to do me a "favor" and, as a result, I wouldn't have points on my license or a record of any kind.  

I then realized he was the officer who pulled me over and wrote the summons.  "Go to the line on your right, Miss Valinotti," he ordered. "Have a good day."

While waiting on line, a few of us got to talking.  It seems that Harrison has a reputation for issuing lots of traffic tickets.  One person remarked that it's the town's second-biggest source of revenue, after property taxes.  He might not have been kidding.

(Maybe I'm not the first one to think the town should be re-named "Harassment" or "Harrass-son".)

Anyway...I should mention that the day I was pulled over was the last Saturday in August.  Although the officer who stopped me--or, for that matter, any other officer--would probably deny that there was a "quota" system in place, it's hard not to believe that I was stopped for any other reason.  

It was probably the easiest way for the town of Harrison, New York to get 175 dollars from someone who doesn't live there--and who might not ever pass through again.  

Getting Home Through The Gate Of Hell

Yesterday I took a late-day ride through central Queens and up to the North Shore.   From Flushing, it's west (actually, west-southwest) to my place.  That allows me to revel in a spectacle or two if I time my ride the way I did yesterday:

Here is the bay at the World's Fair Marina, just east of the airport everybody hates, i.e., LaGuardia.  Yes, that is the midtown and uptown Manhattan skyline in the distance.

From there, I followed the bay and the East River to Astoria Park, which is only a couple of miles from my apartment.  If you've ever taken the train between New York and Boston, you rumbled over this park, which lies underneath one end of the bridge.

That span is known as the Hell Gate Bridge, named for the stretch of waterway under it.  In other posts, I've recounted the origins of the name.  Last night, the visibly strong current helped that stretch of the East River (which is really a tidal estuary) live up to its name.

And I rode under that bridge--through the gate, if you will--to go home.  If riding through Hell is so beautiful, I'm in no hurry to get to Heaven!

A Project's Maiden Voyage

The other day was a fine early-spring day.  Yesterday was just like it, only warmer and with less wind.

It seemed like a good day for a maiden voyage.  Yes, I took my winter project out for a ride.  I'd planned to take it for a "shakeout" of, say, 20 kilometers.  Then I'd go home, have lunch and take a ride on one of my Mercians.

But a ride to the World's Fair Promenade and Flushing Meadow park turned into a North Shore jaunt that took up the late morning and early afternoon.  The day was just so nice that I didn't want to go back inside.  Also, I was starting to form a few early impressions about the bike and wanted to spend some more time on the road to examine them, if not in depth.

Also, I wanted to see whether any problems would develop.  So far, I haven't found any.  I'll need to do only the things one normally has to do with a new build (even when using old parts):  Cables and spokes need re-tensioning and I'm going to tweak the saddle and handlebar position a bit.  So far, however, I don't think I'll need to make any major changes.

I reckon I rode 85 or 90 kilometers with a few hills and rough patches.  The bike is both more stable and sprightly than I expected it to be.  It seems, so far, to ride like a less refined version of Vera--which is not a bad thing, necessarily.

Years ago, I had a set of Weinmann 605 brakes on my Romic and one of my Treks.  I liked them then, and now I remember why:  They have a very firm response which, I believe, is enhanced with Mathauser (Kool Stop) brake pads.  I am especially pleased that they are playing nice with the inverse brake levers.

And I remembered what I liked so much about SunTour derailleurs back in the day:  They, like the brakes, have a positive response.  I wondered, however, what the shifting would be like with a modern chain on an old freewheel.  I wasn't so worried about whether they'd mesh:  The freewheel I installed hadn't been used much, if at all:  It was about as close to new as it could be without being new.  It is, though, a five-speed freewheel, which has wider spacing between the cogs than what's found on modern cassettes.  And the chain--a SRAM PC-830--is made for 8-speeds.  

Happily, I didn't miss a shift.  The "pickup" was quicker than I expected, and the chain engaged the cogs--on a SunTour Winner Pro freewheel--without any problems.  The drivetrain shifted and ran quietly.

In an upcoming post, I'll list the componentry. For now, I'll mention two interesting (to you bike geeks, I mean enthusiasts, anyway) things I did.

One is in the rear wheel, which I built.  The hub is spaced for a six-speed rear, with a 126mm over-locknut diameter.  I rearranged the spacing--shortening it by 5mm on the right (drivetrain) side and lengthening the left side by the same amount.  In other words, I spaced the right side for a 5-speed freewheel and, in adding the spacers to the other side, made the hub more nearly symmetrical. This reduces the amount of "dish" in the wheel which, I believe, will make it stronger.

The other thing I want to mention is the handlebar tape.  Yes, I used cloth tape--in this case, Tressostar gray and dark blue--and coated it with clear shellac.

That ornament on the stem?  It was an earring.  It was once half of a pair.  I lost its "mate".  So, I cut off the clamp, filed down the stub and attached it to the stem with Crazy Glue!

If you've been reading this blog, you've seen the bag before.  It's the great Randonneur bag Ely of Ruthworks made, which I've used on Vera for the past couple of years.  I hope she and this bike--which I've yet to name--don't fight for custody of it!