A Bicycle Mayor And An American In Denial

The United States is the most technologically advanced nation in the history of the world.  Aspiring scientists come here for training and research opportunities that far exceed those of any other country. 

Yet we have a President who, essentially, says those scientists don't know what they're talking about.  Of the recent report on global warming, which he claims to have read, he says, "I don't believe it."

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that my native country would elect such a person:  After all, we have more people--and a larger percentage of our population--who deny evolution, insist that the Book of Genesis tells the literal truth of our origins, assert that the Earth is 6000 years old and even believe that there were dinosaurs on Noah's Ark--than any other "advanced" country!

I suppose that something else shouldn't surprise me:  Wells Griffith, El Cheeto Grande's "adviser" on energy and climate, stood before an audience in Katowice, Poland and touted fossil fuels as the solution to our problems.

Now, Poland still burns a lot of coal, basically for the same reasons other countries use it:  It's cheap, and they have a lot of it.  But even there, as in other European countries, there is a consensus among leaders and everyday citizens that such a practice can't continue if, well, they want to have Katowice, Poland or this planet for themselves, their children or their grandchildren.

What also makes Griffith's pronouncement particularly tone-deaf (I guess I can't fault him for losing his hearing when he works for the shrillest President we've ever had!)  is that in Katowice, a summit dubbed "Paris 2.0" was in session.  And he audience he addressed was part of it.

That conference is a follow-up to the Paris Climate Agreement of three years ago.  Our previous President, Barack Obama, was one of the leaders in the effort to get nations all over the world to agree to reduce their emissions dramatically.  Most of the other signatories to the Paris agreement are still on board with it. But now we have a President who wants nothing more than to build a wall--as if it would keep out people who want to come to this country any more than it would keep countries and people--including citizens of the country he wants to seal off--from bringing environmentally sound practices into their homes, workplaces and other aspects of their lives.

Grzegorz Mikrut

Oh, and while he's cycling through advisers and cabinet ministers (Maybe that's why the unemployment rate is so low:  Look at all the vacancies he's created!), Katowice appointed someone to an office that exists in cities like Amsterdam, Sydney and Sao Paolo.  Meet Grzegorz Mikrut, the Bicycle Mayor of Katowice. 

Anna Luten of Amsterdam, the world's first "Bicycle Mayor"

Fitting, isn't it?, that he should assume this post just as a representative of the US is channeling his boss's denial of science--and common sense.

The Season Catches Up As I Race Daylight

The semester is ending and final exams are beginning. That left me with a "gap" yesterday.  So, of course, I went for a ride.

I don't mind cold weather, though I notice I have to be more careful when the temperature drops:  Muscles stiffen and puddles glaze with icy crusts.  At least there wasn't much wind, and a light show of sun and clouds drifted across the sky.

We are ten days away from the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. So, yesterday, we had only a few more minutes of daylight than we'll have on that day.  At this time of the year, we have about nine hours of daylight and, after I did the things I had to do, I had less than six hours left. 

Of course, I could have ridden after dark:  I often do just that on my commutes home.  Still, I prefer to stick to daylight whenever possible.  I would try to get myself home by sundown, but if I went a little bit later, that would have been fine.

Which I did, though not by much--and not for the reasons I anticipated.  Near the end of the ride--about 12 kilometers from home--my front tire started losing air. I was making a turn from Home Street (ironic, isn't it?) onto Fox Street in the Bronx when something seemed a bit off-balance.  I thought perhaps I'd run over something, or that maybe I was just getting tired.  But when I made my next turn, onto Southern Boulevard, I noticed that something definitely wasn't right.  A few blocks down, near 149th Street, I realized that my tire was indeed losing pressure. 

Slow-leak flats are often more difficult to deal with because the source of the leak isn't always obvious.  I didn't want to go to the trouble of locating a puncture or, worse, miss some small shard of something in the tire casing that would cause another flat if I were to patch or replace the tube.  

I was also near a subway stop and, although it wasn't dark, I could see the night approaching.

Plus, I had already ridden about 130 kilometers by that time, so I figured I'd had a decent afternoon's ride. Actually, it was more than decent:  I'd made it to Connecticut and pedaled up a few hills along the way.

One thing I must say, though:  I realized that I couldn't call it a "late fall" ride.  The bareness of the trees, and the light, definitely painted an early picture of winter:

His Reward For Helping Others Ride

Yesterday, I complained about boneheaded planners and inconsiderate (or just clueless) drivers.  So, dear readers, I figured I'd give you a feel-good story today.

Owen Werner's mother is justly proud of him.  The 11-year-old from Elk Rapids, Michigan learned that a man in nearby Kalkaska modifies bicycles for special-needs and low-income kids.  So, Werner started a fundraiser in his school to help the man's work--and get those bikes to disabled and poor kids.

His efforts paid off, in the way he hoped--and in a way he didn't expect.

You see, Owen is one of the kids he was trying to help--although he wasn't thinking of himself when he started the fundraiser.  But, apparently, someone else noticed--specifically, the owners of McLain Cycle and Fitness.  They gave him a specially-modified bike for his needs:  He has a condition that's kept his muscles and joints from developing normally.

Owen Werner

In watching the video of him, I couldn't help but to remember someone I knew in high school.  He walked and moved in a way similar to how Owen gets around.  But he had the misfortune of growing up in a place and time where it was believed that kids with similar handicaps were incapable of any sort of physical activity.  He was even left back a year because, in spite of having an otherwise-perfect academic record, he didn't pass Phys Ed.  

Fortunately for him, he was extremely (almost frighteningly) smart and talented in all sorts of other ways.  I have to wonder, though, what his life would have been like had he grown up now--or simply in some place with more forward-thinking people than my high school had in the mid-1970s.  

Seeing Owen Werner also reminded me of something that I see in my work and everyday life:  How often physical disability and poverty go hand-in-hand.  If you go to any public housing complex, you will find disproportionate numbers of people, young and old, in wheelchairs and walkers, or who need other kinds of physical assistance.  At number of them are, and have been, my students and have spent all or parts of their lives in "the projects".  

There are, of course, several reasons for that. One is that the physical disability of a child can impoverish a family.  Another is that disabled people, in spite of all of the technological and social advances of the past few decades, have much more difficulty finding employment, let alone anything that pays well.  Moreover, a kid from a low-income background--or an adult who has trouble getting a job with a good insurance plan--might not get treatment that could keep a low-grade malady from turning into a crippling disability.

On a more positive note, I also couldn't help but to think of how versatile cycling is.  Someone, I forget who, said that a bicycle (or tricycle) can be adapted to just about any physical disability besides blindness or deafness.  And, of course, deaf and blind people can ride a tandem with a sighted or hearing "captain." (I know:  I played that role on a few rides with blind riders.)

Somehow, though, I don't think anything is going to stop Owen from doing whatever he wants.  Aleasha Witt, his mother, has every reason to be proud.

Looking To Albuquerque

I know that what I'm about to say doesn't take a PhD to understand because, well, I don't have a PhD!

Here goes:

A parking lane is a place for vehicles to park.  It is not a place to drive.

A vehicle lane is a place to operate vehicles. It is not a place to park.

A bicycle is a vehicle. 

Therefore, a bicycle lane is not a place to park.

That, essentially, is the straightforward argument set out in an article D'val Westphal wrote for the Albuquerque Journal.

Members of the Albuquerque City Council understand that argument.  In fact, they have even made an ordinance, which will go into effect on the 19th of this month, based on it.  Better yet, for those of us who don't like to (or can't) read legalese, they've made a graphic of it, with captions in both English and Spanish.

Thank you, Albuquerque City Council and D'val Westphal.

Now we have to get folks in other cities to codify--and enforce--such rules.  If they need guidance, they can listen to this cheesy pop song from my pubescence:

The Migratory Patterns Of North American Cyclists?

When I was working at Highland Park Cyclery, a customer said he was going to start pedaling from New Jersey in October and arrive in Florida--where he had family--around Thanksgiving.   After that, he said, he would spend the winter there and start pedaling north in April.

I don't know whether he actually followed through with his plan.  And I hadn't thought of him in a long time, until I saw this:

Is the bear pedaling to the place where he or she will hibernate this winter?

I'd Join Their Club If...

Most bicycle clubs I've seen have just one requirement for membership:  Pay your dues.  That sounds worse than it actually is.  Let's say you're in such a club and something comes up in your life that keeps you from riding with the club for, say, a few months.  Well, if you can keep up your membership, at least you can stay in touch with fellow riders--and partake of whatever benefits the club might offer, such as discounts at local bike shops.

Then there are clubs that have other requirements for membership, such as age or gender.  Others--usually racing clubs--want riders who can keep up with everybody else in the group.  

Sometimes these bars to entry are placed to keep the club focused, whether by interest or simply people's level of comfort with one or another.  I've heard of a few clubs that simply want to stay small (or, at least, no bigger than X number of riders) for whatever purpose(s).

But there is one cycling club in London that limits its size for a possibly unique reason, which has to do with its name.

The Pickwick Bicycle Club, founded in 1870, is said to be the oldest continuously-operating bicycle club in the world.  In following a custom that was fairly common in England at the time, the Pickwick wasn't just a group of cyclists; it was also a sort of literary club.  Specifically, its members were dedicated to a particular work by a writer who died in the same month the club held its first luncheon.

The club's name is "Pickwick", as in "Papers".  Because he died just as the club started--a year after the velocipede appeared in London--Charles Dickens probably didn't ride a bicycle.  Characters in the "Pickwick Papers", or any other Dickens story, didn't, either.  At the time the club held its first rides, however, he was at the peak of his popularity:  Clubs and other organizations existed solely for the purpose of public or group readings of his works.  And, it just happened that the sorts of people drawn to those groups--mainly middle-to-upper-class city dwellers--were also the same sorts of people who took up the then-new sport of cycling.

Pickwick Bicycle Club riders at Hampton Court, 1877

The Pickwick Club's membership has always been limited to about 200.  If you want to join, they won't quiz you on the PP or any other Dickens work.  It does, however, take a certain amount of knowledge of the Dickens oeuvre to pull off something the club requires:  that you become one of the novel's characters.  At least, in club circles, you have to be known by that character's name.

As you can tell by the number of club members, there were a lot of characters--mostly peripheral, but in the book nonetheless.  That is because Pickwick Papers was originally a serial that was later assembled into a book.  Every novel, however--even one as sprawling as War and Peace or Les Miserables--has a finite number of characters.  So, even at 200 members, Pickwick is a fraction of the size of other clubs I've seen, and of which I've been a part.

Can you imagine if bicycle clubs today limited their memberships to the number of characters in a novel--or a TV show or movie?  I must admit that, even though I didn't like Batman Forever, I would join any cycling club--hey, any club at all--that would allow me to be Dr. Chase Meridian, even if I wouldn't look as good doing it as Nicole Kidman did!

P.S. Even if I were a famous racer or writer, or someone influential in the cycling industry, I couldn't join The Pickwick Club:  It's still a men-only affair!

What Fits In The Box?

Why should we encourage people to give up their steering wheels for handlebars?  Here is one possible answer:

You have a box, and it holds only so much, and once it gets beyond that--then you start to have problems.

The "box" to which economic development specialist Einar Tangen was referring is a city--in this case, Beijing.  But he could have been describing just about any old European or Asian capital--or a few US cities like New York, Boston and San Francisco.

Tangen was describing a reality of the Chinese capital:  It simply wasn't designed for 22 million people--or, even more to the point (for the purposes of this blog, anyway), 5 million cars.  To put that in perspective, Beijing has almost two and a half times as many people, and cars, as New York City.  

From what I've read, I don't think anyone even began to realize Beijing's limits until, maybe, two decades ago.  That is when industrialization--and, with it, migrations from the countryside to the cities--accelerated.  

Beijing traffic jam,  1975

In 1995, Beijing and New York had roughly the same population--around 8 million.  Commuters and visitors to New York--especially the central areas of Manhattan--complained about traffic jams.  Driving from the Hudson to the East River along 14th Street--a distance of about 4 kilometers, or 2.5 miles--could, and can, take as much as 45 minutes, while a bus ride along the same route might cost an hour.  Meanwhile, even if a Beijing cyclist encountered a traffic jam, it would mean that the road was clogged with other bikes, not cars.  That cyclist could pedal the same distance in half as much time as it took transverse Manhattan.

Today, both cities contend with traffic jams.  Starting in the early 2000s, the ones in the Big Apple started to ease up a bit, at least for a decade or so.  But since 2015 or thereabouts, motor traffic is on the rise once again, in spite of Uber's boast that its services would take a million cars off this city's streets.  Uber and similar services, unbound from many of the regulations that govern New York's taxis and limousines, put thousands of new for-hire drivers on the city's streets.  Also, Amazon and other online shopping services began to offer free shipping for very small orders (Previously, most had a minimum number of items or dollar amount for no-charge shipping), which meant more deliveries, nearly all of which come in trucks.

Beijing's traffic jams, on the other hand, now have the same composition of the ones in most other major cities:  cars and trucks--but especially cars, in Beijing's case. 

Beijing traffic jam, 2015

New York, Beijing and other cities are facing or denying this reality:  They simply can't shoehorn any more motor vehicles onto their streets.  If anything, those places, and others, should encourge bicycling--but make it truly safe and convenient for people going to and from work, not merely a way for the affluent to stretch when they get bored with the gym.

As Einar Tangen said, each of these cities is a box that's already holding more than it was designed to hold.  To keep that box from bursting, planners need to start thinking out of the (auto-centric) box.

Cyclists Are Good For Business. But How?

Is bike-friendliness good for business?

Two researchers at Portland State University are trying to answer that question.

More precisely, Jenny Liu, an assistant professor at the University's Toulan School of Urban Studies and Planning, and Jennifer Dill, director of a research institute at the University, are leading a study of how street improvement for bicycle and pedestrian mobility affects retailers and other businesses.

The first phase of the study, which explores data sources and methodologies, will include Portland, San Francisco and Denver.  A second phase will include Minneapolis, Pittsburgh, Indianapolis, Memphis and Washington, DC.  While previous studies show that the street improvements Lui and Dill plan to study have no impact or a positive effect on retail vitality, there was, according to Liu, "a lack of rigorous and systematic methodology" that "can produce consistent, replicable and applicable results."  What she and Dill hope is to provide policymakers and planners solid research and a practical foundation as they consider multi-modal transportation networks.

But, they say, they aren't looking to make only sweeping generalizations about how to make cities more "bike-" or "pedestrian-friendly."  Instead, they want to build on other research that addresses different components of the economic and business effects of non-motorized transport.  Among other things, they want to find out how spending differs between cyclists, pedestrians, mass transit users and drivers.  Such information could help, not only in making decisions about what types of infrastructure to build, but in helping stores, restaurants and other kinds of businesses to decide, say, whether and where to build parking facilities, where to place entrances and even on what goods or services they might offer.

This Isn't What We Mean By Track Riding

I admit that I grumble when a railroad crossing gate drops in front of me.  I guess I should be happy that such guards exist, though:



Surprisingly, that near-fatal encounter took place in Geleen---in the Netherlands, where we might expect such a crossing to be guarded, and a cyclist to know better.

Now I'm going to lecture you, dear reader:  Be careful at railroad crossings.  I admit, I'm saying so for selfish reasons:  I want you to come back and read this blog again.  Really, though, I don't like to see cyclists turned to road kill (track kill)?

He Played In Peoria--And The World

If you had any doubts that I spent much of my youth reading the wrong kinds of books, I will dispel them now.

Horatio Alger is one of those writers who, it seems, everyone has heard of but no one (at least no one living today) has read.  Although "Horatio Alger story" has become, justifiably, a synonym for "rags-to-riches tale", some of his works are interesting, if not for the quality of the writing, then for the window it offers into the customs and mores of his time.

For example, the phrase "Will it play in Peoria?" had its origin in Five Hundred Dollars, or, Jacob Marlowe's Secret, Alger's 1890 novel.  In it, a group of actors on tour say, "We shall be playing in Peoria" and "We shall play at Peoria."  This meant they were going to play, not only in the north-central Illinois city, but in front of a prototypical American audience.  

Alger's novel came out just as vaudeville was becoming popular in the US.   Travelling vaudevillians appropriated Alger's phrase and, when they used it, meant that they were on the road to success--which, in turn, gave rise to the phrase "Will it play in Peoria?"

Does this mean that Peoria audiences are really tough?  Or does it mean that because it's so representative of "middle America" (whatever that means today) that if it can "play in Peoria", it can play anywhere?

I would tend to believe the latter--or, at least, that it would have been the case in Alger's and the vaudevillians' time.  And vaudevillians weren't the only ones who could gauge their chances of success by how they "played in Peoria."  

Lake View Park--now the site of the Komatsu plant--was once an important, if not the major, stop on the American bicycle racing circuit.  Its half-mile track made and broke cycling careers in the 1890s, the heyday of American bike racing.

One of the folks who became a star in Lake View did so by defeating Tom Butler.  Although only cycling historians know his name today, the rider who defeated him has not been forgotten, for a variety of reasons.

That cyclist "put up a lot of numbers that would be hard to achieve today on a modern bike," according to Tim Beeney.  The Bike Peoria board member and longtime advocate added that this cyclist was "one of the highest-paid in the world at the time he competed."  And, like the ambitious vaudevillians of history as well as Alger's novel, this cyclist found fame throughout America, and the world, after his exploits in Peoria.

The cyclist in question is none other than Marshall "Major" Taylor.  The only athletes I've seen in my lifetime who may have dominated their sports in their time to the degree that Taylor did in his were Eddy Mercx, Martina Navratilova, Wayne Gretzky, Michael Jordan and Serena Williams.

One thing that makes Taylor's accomplishments all the more impressive is the obstacles he faced.  Sometimes he would come to an American city and not be allowed to eat in a restaurant, stay in a hotel--or even to compete in the race that was the reason for his coming to that city! He faced hostility, not only from spectators, but also from fellow racers, who believed that he should not be allowed to compete in--let alone dominate--"their" sport.  He wasn't even allowed to join the League of American Wheelmen!

(I think now of the hate mail and even death threats Henry Aaron received in the 1970s when he was in pursuit of Babe Ruth's career home run record.  He still gets them. I also recall how, when Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were on track to break the single-season home run record, many people wanted McGwire to finish with the new record.)

More than a century after his victories--and 85 years after his death--it seems that Major Taylor is getting some renewed recognition.  This past Saturday, Peoria-area bicycle clubs paid homage to him 140 years after his birth.  And, earlier this year, cognac maker Hennessy had a TV ad featuring Major.



That ad campaign makes perfect sense when you realize that he was most revered in France, where he went to race in the early 1900s--after he played in Peoria.

And, I suppose you could say he was a sort of Horatio Alger story in that he grew up poor but became very wealthy from his cycling.  Unfortunately, his story didn't have a Horatio Alger ending:  After a series of bad business investments, he died penniless.  

Still, though, he played--and made it, at least for a time--in Peoria, and the world.